me, Saturna Robbie

Thursday, 28 February 2013

His - Story.

I hurriedly checked my  Blackberry for a translation App in case he spoke to us before he killed us! 

He raised his tomahawk even higher ......then he pointed it at Inka's flashing collar.  

He wanted her flashing collar!  BOL....Yippee!

We all rushed to take it off and give to him. You bet he could have it!  I have read about peace offerings so I knew it was not appropriate to ask for anything in return even though Lacey and Tansy said to ask if he had any treats on him as they were getting hungry. Just where did they think he was hiding treats???

Margaret handed up the collar  (we are all too short to reach a warrior on horseback) ....he took it from her very gently, and said in perfect English ..'thank you, Ma'am'.!  Actually, it may have been Spanish or Apache or?  When you have a magic Blog strange things can happen. What was important was that we understood him and he could understand us.

But wait...he really was speaking English.

'My name is Billy Smith'. he said. He climbed down off his pony and squatted on the ground beside us. We formed a paw circle around him.

This is his story:

At the age of sixteen  in 1756, I was part of group opening a wagon road for the army when I was captured by Indians.

Three Indians stuck a few bushes in the ground and hid behind them, about fifteen yards from the road. I had been sent back, to hurry up some chow wagons. When we came opposite the decoy bushes they fired at me. My horse started instantly and threw me, and the Indians immediately ran up and took me prisoner.

On approaching their camp large numbers of naked, painted savages formed into two long rows and I had to run between them while they beat me.  I was told that if I ran quickly it would be so much the better, as they would quit when I got to the end of the rows. I started in the race as fast as I could. When I had got near the end of the lines I was knocked to the ground with a stick or the handle of a tomahawk.

When I regained consciousness I tried to get up but the Indians beat me and beat me. I remember wishing they would kill me and get it over with but they sent me they sent to a hospital and carefully restored me to health.

I asked one of the Indians who could speak some English, if I had done anything to offend them which caused them to beat me? 'No,' he replied, 'it was only an old custom the Indians have, and was like "how do you do?"  This Indian also told me "that as soon as I recovered, I must go with the party and be made an Indian myself. 

They pierced my nose and ears, and fixed me off with earrings and nose jewels. Then they ordered me to strip off my clothes and put on a breech-cloth, which I did. Then they painted me in various colors. They put a large belt of wampum on my neck, silver bands on my hands and right arm.

The Chiefs gave me a pipe, a tomahawk, and a pouch containing tobacco, also flint, and steel. The Indians then came in dressed and painted, seated themselves, and for a long time smoked in silence. At length one of the chiefs spoke:

"'My son, you are now flesh of our flesh, and bone of our bone. By the ceremony just performed every drop of white blood was washed out of your veins; you are taken into our nation and initiated into a warlike tribe. You are adopted into a great family, and received with great seriousness and solemnity.  My son, you have now nothing to fear; we are now under the same obligation to love, support, and defend you, that we are to love and defend one another, therefore you are to consider yourself as one of our people.'

I have lived with my tribe as a son and brother for many, many years. They kept their word to treat me as one of them… but my white blood is still in my veins.  I truly grieve for my sweetheart who I left behind and I want my dear Mother to know that I am well ...and alive…sort of.

Help me Please!

 WOW!  Margaret, Tansy, Hurley, Inka and Blue....What now Gang?