An Indigenous Woman Left to Die at Seattle’s Mechanic Wharf
When five Indigenous people were rescued from a capsized canoe in Seattle’s harbor, a local resident threw one woman into the mud and left her to die.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
At about 1:30 P.M. Friday, two officers of the fire department, while at the corner of Commercial and Mill Street, were suddenly startled by loud and pitiful cries, evidently from some person in great distress. Hurrying off in the direction of the sound, they were soon at Mechanic Wharf and found under the new uncompleted portion of the structure lot of Indians struggling in the water. It was quite dark, a light rain was falling and a heavy wind blowing at the time, while the waves broke among the piles of the wharf from the bay in angry concourse.
The Indians, five in number, including three squaws, had out on a fishing expedition, and in coming round under the wharf their canoe had been capsized in the heavy sea. They were found clinging to the piles for dear life, while each heavy swell swept clear over them, and would for a moment hush their loud cries and shrieks. The officers walked out on the unplanked stringers and hooked up one after another until they had them all out and on the wharf. They were all in a half-drowned condition, and nearly chilled to death.
The Indians and two squaws were taken down to the dock at the foot of Washington Street, where a roaring fire was kindled up for them under a temporary shed thrown up with some loose boards. The other squaw was so nearly exhausted, however, that the officers were obliged to take her to one of the little houses near the beach, back from Plummer's stable, and asked permission to leave her there until they could find a place for her. This was granted, and after they had got the rest of the party en comforted in comfortable quarters they returned for her; but, to their surprise found that the poor creature had been dragged out of the house and thrown into the street opposite by the heartless occupant of the cabin, where the mud and water was several inches deep. She was just breathing her last when they reached her, and before they had got her back to the others she died.
When they reached the camp with her body, the grief of the poor Indians who had survived knew no bounds. They wept and shrieked aloud, as they gathered about the dead body, in the wildest and most touching manner. If the facts are as reported, we think the unfeeling brute who would under such circumstance drag a dying squaw out into the mud to perish, as he is represented to have done, should meet with condign punishment.
This 1877 account of an Indigenous woman’s death in Seattle highlights the violent displacement and lack of legal protection for Native peoples during the city's founding era. The newspaper's outrage at the 'heartless' act reflects a rare moment of moral clarity, yet it underscores how quickly colonial infrastructure (the wharf) and casual cruelty could erase Indigenous lives from the historical record.
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