Woman's Lonely Saga Left a
Mystery
CECILIA RASMUSSEN

The world knows of Ishi, ballyhooed as "the
last wild California Indian" and the last of his Yahi tribe, who stumbled
out of the wilderness into the gold mining town of Oroville in 1911.
But more than 50 years earlier, another
sole survivor, the "Lone Woman" whom the priests named Juana Maria,
was taken from the only home she had ever known and where she lived alone for 18
years--San Nicolas Island.
The mystery of her origins may be tied up
with another and sadder story: the notorious massacre that wiped out most of the
men of the island when she would have been a young child.
This wind-swept wilderness--one of two
Channel Islands now under Navy control--was named for a saint, but it served as
the setting for sinners, in the massacre of the Nicoleno tribe.
For thousands of years Nicolenos had
scratched out a living on this 3-by-9-mile semidesert island, navigating its
choppy waters in their canoes. These handsome natives lived peacefully for many
generations--but the arrival of sea otter hunters at California's coast ended
that.
In 1811, when Juana Maria would have been
at least a toddler, hunters began scouring the California coast for the
"soft gold" of extraordinarily lush otter pelts with a ruthlessness
that almost brought the creatures to extinction. An American sea captain under
contract to a Russian-American trading company had hired 30 fierce Kodiak
Indians from Alaska to hunt otters. He dropped them off on remote San Nicolas
Island.
The Kodiaks lost no time in slaughtering
almost all of the native males and taking the women as slaves. And then the
Kodiaks disappeared. History isn't clear on whether they simply left, or whether
Nicoleno women avenged their husbands by killing the murderers as they slept.
Some scholars
speculate that Juana Maria was younger than her contemporaries believed, and may
have been the child of a forced coupling between a Kodiak man and a Nicoleno
widow. Other historians believe that she arrived with her family sometime after
the massacre, and was not a Nicoleno at all.
From the two songs and four words
transcribed by Juana Maria's rescuer, Pamela Munro of UCLA's Department of
Linguistics found that her language showed the influence of the Luisenos of
Northern San Diego County and of the Juanenos near San Juan Capistrano. Both
traded with the American Indians of the Channel Islands.
By 1835, about 20 Nicolenos remained, Juana
Maria among them. Unable to hold off Mexican and American forces or better-armed
tribes, they were removed by the missionaries of Santa Barbara.
As they were boarding the schooner Peor es
Nada, Juana Maria discovered her infant was missing and dived overboard. Ashore,
she frantically searched for the baby basket she had fastened to a tree.
Finding signs that her child had been eaten by wild dogs, she sat alone, weeping
for days, near death.
Meanwhile, the other Nicolenos aboard ship
were taken to Los Angeles, and most went to the San Gabriel Mission. A Nicoleno
named Black Hawk, who had suffered a head injury during the massacre more than
two decades earlier, moved in with some hunters at San Pedro. He soon became
blind, and fell from a steep bank and drowned.
Plans to rescue Juana Maria were put on
hold while the Peo es Nada hauled lumber to San Francisco, where it capsized and
sank. Ships were few and far between then, and interest in her rescue faded.
Alone on the island, Juana Maria proved
quite resourceful. She cast fishing lines with hooks made from shells. She built
a hut of whale bones. She replaced her worn clothing with garments made from the
feathers of cormorants.
At night, she silently crept to the seams
in cliff crags to snatch the sleeping birds from their roosts. She used a bone
needle and threads made of seal sinews to sew their shiny green feathers
together, carefully matching them so the finished garment looked to be made from
solid material.
In 1850, 15 years after Juana Maria jumped
ship, Father Gonzales of the Santa Barbara Mission paid shipowner Thomas
Jeffries $200 to find her. But Jeffries was more interested in the money, and
his half-hearted attempt failed; he merely circled the island without touching
land.
Still, his casual search led to her rescue.
Jeffries' tales of frolicking seals and barking sea otters caught the attention
of George Nidever, a Santa Barbara fur trapper and adventure-seeker. Twice,
Nidever
sailed to San Nicolas to hunt sea otters and valuable sea gull eggs, all the
while looking for Juana Maria.
They found her footprints and possessions
scattered far and wide. One crewman claimed he saw her running along the shore,
beckoning and shouting. But fierce wind and rain kept the ship away. In 1853,
Nidever and his crew made a third trip. This time they found "the Lone
Woman of San Nicolas Island."
A crew member spotted her high on a ridge,
surrounded by several dogs, skinning a seal with a knife made from a piece of
iron hoop. Talking to herself as she worked, she occasionally paused to watch
the men's progress. Unaware that a crew member was closing in from behind, she
first silenced the dogs with a "shrieking cry," then crouched in
terror when she saw him.
When all the men were seated around her,
she relaxed and served them a meal of roasted roots. They believed her to be
about 40 or 50 years old, of medium height and a "rather thick build."
Her hair, once black, was now densely matted and bleached to a dull brown.
"Her features were pleasant with an unwrinkled face," wrote Nidever,
"but her teeth were worn to the gums." She wore a sleeveless,
ankle-length garment tied at the waist and sewn from cormorant skins. A second
such dress was in a basket nearby.
After their meal, she placed her belongings
in her baskets, which the men carried as she accompanied them back to the
schooner. She stopped along the way to wash herself.
For a month, the crew camped on the beach
hunting sea otters, while she supplied them with water and firewood and made
baskets. The men stuffed a dead sea otter pup and hung it by a string from the
ceiling of her shelter.
A crew member who coveted her feather
garment sewed her a petticoat of cotton ticking and swapped it, along with a
man's shirt and black necktie, for one of her two dresses. One was later sent to
the Vatican, where it disappeared.
In Santa Barbara, she moved in with the
Nidevers, who protected her from being exhibited as some kind of freak. Although
no one understood her, she nonetheless told her story vividly in sign language.
She sang and danced for a steady stream of curious guests. She accepted their
gifts politely, but when they left, she gave the presents to the Nidever
children. She returned the kindness with small gifts of shells, necklaces, bone
needles and baskets.
Local Indians tried in vain to converse
with her, but no one could understand her language. Messengers were sent to find
her kinsmen, but none were located.
Juana Maria's fondness for green corn,
vegetables and fresh fruit caused severe attacks of dysentery. In her weakness,
she fell from Nidever's porch and injured her spine.
On Oct. 18, 1853, only seven weeks after
her arrival, she died. On her deathbed, she was christened Juana Maria. She was
buried in the Nidever family plot at the Santa Barbara Mission cemetery. Nearly
75 years later, the Daughters of the American Revolution placed a plaque
commemorating her.
Nearly a century after her brief sojourn in
American civilization, her solitary life became immortalized in the character of
Karana in the children's novel "Island of the Blue Dolphins."
http://www.latimes.com/news/state/20010318/t000023730.html

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