No one red or white much cared for the Kronks
Fri, 2015-05-15 05:00
News Staff
Under pressure from the Mexican government to give the Karankawas one more chance, Anglo- American colonists signed a peace treaty with the flesheating Indians on May 13, 1827.
Generations before the white man came on the scene, the Kronks were driven from Louisiana by neighbors outraged by their loathsome taste for human flesh. United by intermarriage and cannibalism, the confederation of five clans soon roamed coastal Texas from Galveston to Padre Island. The first European to lay eyes on the Karankawas and live to tell about it was Cabeza de Vaca, the shipwrecked Spaniard who waded ashore at Galveston in 1528. In contrast to most native North Americans who were short and squatty, powerfully built Karankawan warriors averaged well over six feet. A collage of bizarre tattoos added to their frightening appearance. Early Texans joked they could smell a Kronk long before they could see him. To protect themselves against the mosquito, the eternal curse of the GulfCoast, the Indians coated their naked bodies with alligator grease. The noxious odor given off by the insect repellent forced visitors to pay attention to the prevailing breeze because no one dared stand downwind of a Kronk. During the century and a half following Cabeza de Vaca’s departure, the Karankawas changed very little. Living mainly off the sea, the prize catch was the occasional lost European who wound up the main dish at the next village feast. In a 1685 expedition to find the mouth of the Mississippi River, French explorer La Salle missed the mark by hundreds of miles and landed at Matagorda Bay. While their confused guide searched in vain for the missing tributary, anxious seamen built Fort St. Louis. The Kronks patiently bided their time until Christmas Eve 1688, when word reached them of La Salle’s death. Feigning an innocent desire to share the holiday with their French friends, the Indians talked their way into he fort and slaughtered the inhabitants. Thirty years later, another Frenchman fell into Karankawan hands and witnessed a cannibalistic victory celebration. Simars de Belle-Isle watched in horror as the Kronks gleefully devoured the corpse of a slain enemy. When the Spaniards finally established a permanent foothold in Texas in the early eighteenth century, zealous priests sought to save the souls of the Karankawas. Encouraged by evangelical success among more receptive heathen, missionaries naively pictured pews packed with docile, God-fearing Kronks. Although they accepted free food and shelter from the friars, the Karankawas refused to reform. Contemptuous of manual labor as well as church rules, the Indians preferred to plunder the missions and urdered any priest that got in their way. Years of sermons and handouts produced pitifully few converts. Even the most pious men of the cloth eventually gave up hope of ever convincing the Karankawas to mend their wicked ways. Stephen F. Austin bent over backward to ensure fair treatment for the Karankawas and other tribes. In 1824 he ordered that “no person within this colony shall ill treat or in any manner abuse any Indian without just cause.” The problem was the Kronks often gave more than ample cause. As the colonists predicted, the incorrigible cannibals
promptly violated the provisions of the May 1827 treaty. No longer able to hold back the angry Texans, Mexican officials approved reprisals, and Kronk losses mounted in a running war with well- rmed whites and traditional Indian foes. In the opening round of the Texas Revolution, the Karankawas volunteered to fight on the rebel side. Understandably suspicious of their motives, the Texans turned the offer down flat. Karankawan luck went from bad to worse. On the same afternoon, one band of braves managed to catch bullets from both Mexicans and Texans. Finding a Texan’s farm deserted, the Kronks helped themselves to some free beef. Suddenly challenged by a party of Mexican soldiers, they explained the absent owner was an amigo. The Mexicans opened fire on the friends of a hated revolutionary. The survivors ran into a force of mounted Texans, and in an attempt to avoid further bloodshed loudly proclaimed, “Viva Mexico!” Shot rang out and the remaining Kronks joined their dead brothers. In the 1840’s, the scattered remnants of the Karankawan clans slipped across the Rio Grande in search of sanctuary. Border residents, government troops and hostile Indians mercilessly reduced their already depleted ranks, and by 1860 the Karankawas were just an unpleasant memory. Bartee welcomes your comments and questions at
haile@pdq.net or P.O. Box 152, Friendswood, TX 77549 and invites you to visit his web site at barteehaile.com