Glynn Patrick & Associates: Capturing Forever
All pages copyright 2006: Jody Glynn Patrick
Ephraim Webster, Jr.:
He Preferred An Indian Lifestyle

My son wandered about in this fashion until he fell in with the Six Nations about 150 miles west of Albany at Onondaga. For the next
four years, to his belief, he was the only white man in the area. He adapted well. He built a shanty and found means of trading rum
and ammunition. Ephraim also became adept with the Indian language, another instinct which saved his life. One night after drinking
with a few Indians, he understood them to say they were going to kill him, because they believed he was a man who had, in the past,
destroyed their wigwams. Soon two of them came and sat down, Ephraim said, one on each side of him. I can't even imagine his fear
when one Indian held his arms and the other took the hatchet and told him that he was going to sing his "death song" and kill him.  
However, on reflection, it is true that each of my children had extraordinary strengths and weaknesses, and in Ephraim's life, they
were one and the same -- no fear.

Ephraim understood their culture as well as their language, and he motioned as if requesting a taste of their rum for a final drink. He
took the cup and drank a toast to their chiefs, naming them in turn, beginning with Brant Buller. This caused great emotion, and the
Indian with the hatchet threw it down, by this sign “burying it” forever with Ephraim. “You no enemy, my brother,” he reportedly
said, and the man threw his arms around my son’s neck and, Ephraim said,  the man then "wept like a child." From that day, they
were as brothers. My son often claimed that his Indian brothers would "go through fire and water for him and would not do any
business without his orders."

By the time he found his way home to visit us, Ephraim could speak or write six Indian languages. He was certain of his place in the
Indian culture. Often he served as their interpreter for two dollars a day, and whatever he said or did, he told us, "was fixed as the
laws of Meads and Persians." One time he was hired at his $2-per-day rate to take a journey of 900 miles through the wilderness to
help make a treaty between two tribes. He was sent by Indians on one side of the treaty to go in disguise; he was so adept with
language and manner that he was to pass for Indian with all who met him, and then, at night, to find a place to retreat and to write all
that happened through the day. He selected 45 men to accompany him and then he set off with ceremonial face paint. He "wore ear
jewels such as only chieftains wore, and donned a belt of rich wampum" (tiny shells meticulously polished, shaped, and strung, which
were used as money). Although Ephraim could pass for an Indian in most ways, his hair was light brown, and so he wore a cap large
enough to cover it.

The disguise didn't fool everyone. Ironically, it was the white man who mistrusted him to be English. A soldier overseeing the treaty
negotiations came to him one day and lifted his cap, but made no comment. Soon after, another soldier later invited him to dinner,
but after Ephraim entered the room, the soldier locked a door and took a sword to Ephraim’s throat, insisting he confess whether he
was English or Indian. Ephraim pulled his knife, and made his own stand. The soldier considered, and then told him to leave. He did
not, as Ephraim must have considered, reveal his identity to the other soldiers or the Indians on whom he was spying, or Ephraim
surely would have been killed.

When his business was concluded, Ephraim set for home. However, he soon was taken gravely ill. The Indians traveling with him
made a sort of bier and carried him through the woods, and they were credited with great acts of charity toward my son. One man
ran 10 miles to bring him drinkable water, and another ran five miles to find him apples. Ephraim recovered from his sickness and
finally arrived at Onondaga with 40 of his traveling party. Five had died during the arduous journey, though they carried their friend
safely home. Ephraim returned to his shanty and he took an Indian maiden as his wife. According to Indian custom, he "pledged to
be her husband for so many moons, and when that time came, the marriage contract was dissolved and each was at liberty to marry
the same or someone else."

Henry is the brother, as I have mentioned, that Ephraim most often visited, perhaps because Henry was so appreciative of his
brother's stories. I think he idolized Ephraim because Ephraim was of such strong constitution, while Henry himself was so frail. The
stories are fanciful -- I know that, sharing them for you today -- but yet we all believed Ephraim's version to be true, and not
embellished. Henry was the family scribe; he captured the stories as they were told, with pen and ink, and because of him, I can
relate them to you with great assurance of their accuracy. As for their validity, you have to take my word that Epharim was a man of
his own word.

As you might expect, Ephraim's story did not end sitting in a wigwam with his Indian princess.

After he had remained with a tribe for many years, Ephraim was trusted as intermediary with whites. When the Indians sold their
land to the State of New York, Ephraim took the money and divided the land they reserved among them. He reserved a square mile
for himself and certain other tracts for his Indian friends. Eventually, he and the tribe adopted more customary white ways, and he
married a white woman, but he remained on the reservation. When war was declared with England in 1812, a man wanted to take
command of a party of American Indians. Ephraim Webster was chosen to do this, and so he led them into battle. After the war, my
son returned to his farm and lived there a few years more. Still involved in Indian trade, he died suddenly while 200 miles from
home, while on expedition to buy ginsing.
The stories of Ephraim and his sons are based on research of Ephraim Webster's family,
historical facts of the time, and also other Webster Family researchers' facts. GP&A has woven
all of the sources into a consistent story form, borrowing the voice of Ephraim Webster.
Our appreciation to Dorothy & Allistair Frasier of British Columbia for their published depository and research of this branch of the
Webster family, which served as our guide in writing these biographies. Of particular assistance was the family's document written by
Henry Wester, Ephaim's son, of Jericho, VT., in 1847.
My son Ephraim tired of shoemaking only a year past his twenty-first birthday. He seemingly
inherited my dissatisfaction with leaving a destiny to a father’s whim, and he left to seek his fortune.
Ephraim tried his luck in the towns of Boston, Philadelphia and New York City, but his fortune was
not to be found in a city. Ephraim complained that although he could make a decent wage in all three
big cities with his trade, he couldn’t catch bears, kill deer, or sleep in the open air with the leaves of
the forest for a bed, and the heavens for a covering. He wanted wolves and catamounts for
companions, and the smell of a smoking wigwam. He went to Albany, but soon left even more
embittered, embarking for the wilderness.

Ephraim found his elusive Indian hunting party and thrived in their company. After the hunt, alone
again, he slept contentedly in the woods on the cold ground, rolled in his blanket, with his gun in his
arms.

One night, as he lay sleeping in this way with no person within many miles, he was awakened by the
howling of a nearby wolf. The snow had put out his fire and had covered him thickly. The wolf
scented him and howled for a companion to join in the kill. He approached Ephraim, pawed the snow
viciously, then backed away and called again for its partner. Approach and retreat, approach and
retreat. Ephraim had fallen asleep with his arms crossed, and he laid as still as humanly possible,
fearful that the move to reposition his gun would give the wolf, who stayed within breath of him,
opportunity to lunge for his throat. At length, after much calling for help and receiving none, the wolf
retreated. Ephraim then slept soundly until morning, when he went on about his business.