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Title: Early western travels, 1748-1846, volume 7
Editor: Reuben Gold Thwaites
Author: Alexander Ross
Release date: June 28, 2024 [eBook #73930]
Language: English
Original publication: Cleveland: The Arthur H. Clark Company, 1904
Credits: Richard Tonsing, Greg Bergquist, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EARLY WESTERN TRAVELS, 1748-1846, VOLUME 7 ***
Early Western Travels
1748–1846
A Series of Annotated Reprints of some of the best and rarest
contemporary volumes of travel, descriptive of the Aborigines and Social
and Economic Conditions in the Middle and Far West, during the Period of
Early American Settlement
Edited with Notes, Introductions, Index, etc., by
Reuben Gold Thwaites, LL.D.
Editor of “The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents,” “Wisconsin
Historical Collections,” “Chronicles of Border Warfare,” “Hennepin’s New
Discovery,” etc.
Volume VII
Ross’s Adventures of the First Settlers on the Oregon or Columbia River,
1810–1813
[Illustration: [Logo]]
Cleveland, Ohio
The Arthur H. Clark Company
1904
COPYRIGHT 1904, BY
THE ARTHUR H. CLARK COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The Lakeside Press
R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY
CHICAGO
CONTENTS OF VOLUME VII
PREFACE. _The Editor_ 9
ADVENTURES OF THE FIRST SETTLERS ON THE OREGON OR COLUMBIA RIVER:
being a Narrative of the Expedition fitted out by John Jacob
Astor, to establish the “Pacific Fur Company;” with an account of
the Indian Tribes on the Coast of the Pacific. _Alexander Ross_,
one of the Adventurers
Author’s Preface 21
Author’s Table of Contents 23
Text 33
Appendix
Chinook Vocabulary 321
A Table of the Weather at the Mouth of the Columbia River, from
March 22nd till July 22nd, 1811 330
ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOLUME VII
Map of the Columbia 18
Facsimile of original title-page 19
PREFACE TO VOLUME VII
The present volume is occupied by the reprint, from the original London
edition of 1849, of Alexander Ross’s _Adventures of the First Settlers
on the Oregon or Columbia River_ from 1810–13.
No less than three members of the Astorian expedition[1] published
personal narratives, each of them a work of much merit. As a source for
the study of this first attempt in behalf of the United States to
colonize the North-west Coast, the account of Ross supplements in many
particulars that of Gabriel Franchère, the French Canadian clerk whose
notable tale of adventure is published in volume vi of our series.
Ross’s narrative was not made public until twenty-nine years after the
appearance of the first (French) edition of Franchère’s book; but it was
based upon journals written at the time, and has the value of a
first-hand relation.
Ross was a Scotchman, who left his father’s home (1804) to seek a
fortune in the then “dissolute, extravagant, and butterfly” Province of
Canada. He confesses that only stern Scotch pride kept him from
returning to the parental roof, for which he secretly longed during
several years after his departure. In the new land his fortunes did not
flourish. Endowed with a good education, he at first eked out a scanty
livelihood by teaching school; but after five years purchased some land
in Upper Canada, and turned farmer. The reports of Astor’s enterprise
and of fortunes to be acquired in the fur trade, tempted him to abandon
the soil and embark in the promising project for a Columbia settlement,
and he was a member of the contingent that sailed from New York in the
“Tonquin,” in 1810. Arrived at Columbia River, Ross was soon assigned to
a post in the interior, where he whiled away the tedium of existence by
studying Indian languages and characteristics, by copious journalizing,
and much reflection. Nor was incident lacking to divert the isolated
fur-trader, as the various brigades of the rival North West Company
swept up and down the Columbia, and the fate of Astoria hung trembling
in the balance. Most of the “Nor’ Westers” were Scotchmen like himself,
and Ross’s sympathies appear to have been enlisted strongly in their
behalf. As the books of reminiscence written during his retirement grew,
they took on the form of apologies for McDougal and McKenzie, the Scotch
partners of the American house, and virtually became tirades against the
associates of Astor, and his business management as well.
Upon the consummation of the sale of Astoria (October, 1813), Ross was
easily induced to enter the service of the new British owners, and he
remained upon Columbian waters so long as the Nor’ Westers operated in
that district. With accustomed Scotch canniness he stipulated for an
agreement in writing that he should be promoted at the end of seven
years’ service; but just before the expiration of that term the North
West Company merged with its great rival, the Hudson’s Bay (1821), and
Ross’s hopes were again dashed. However, the governor of the Hudson’s
Bay Company placed him in command of a large brigade for hunting and
exploring the country of the Snake Indians—the vast region of the Rocky
Mountain divide, in the present states of Montana and Idaho. Here for
two years (1823–25) he led his motley crews of Canadians, half-breeds,
Iroquois, and Hawaiians, crossing and recrossing the path of Lewis and
Clark, and exploring the fastnesses of the Snake and Salmon rivers.
But the wilderness had now lost its charm, and Ross returned to at least
the borders of civilization, there to live in quiet and rear his
half-breed children. In recognition of his services, the Hudson’s Bay
Company granted him a hundred acres of land in the Red River Valley,
where he became one of the earliest and most prominent citizens of the
present city of Winnipeg. His estate was known as “Colony Gardens,” and
upon the profits of his trade among the settlers and of his relations
with the aborigines he grew wealthy and influential. Being chosen the
first sheriff of Assiniboine (the present province of Winnipeg), he was
later (1835) appointed a member of its first Government Council. Some
account of his life as a settler, and a few of his letters, are
published in the Historical and Scientific Society of Manitoba
_Transactions_ No. 63 (Winnipeg, 1903).
At last blessed with leisure, Ross now turned author, and published
three works detailing the differing phases of his life. The first—
_Adventures of the First Settlers on the Oregon or Columbia River_—
relates his experiences as a fur-trader in American employ, and was
issued from a London press in 1849; this book we here republish. The
narrative of his life upon Western waters under the direction of British
companies, appeared in 1855, as _The Fur Hunters of the Far West_. His
final essay was a history of _The Red River Settlement, its Rise,
Progress, and Present State_, which appeared in 1856, the year of the
author’s death. All of these books are written in a simple, clear,
unpretentious style, being mainly narrations of daily events.
Referring specifically to the _Adventures_, which we have chosen for
reprinting, it is evident that the author’s interest in topography was
but slight. It is surprising to find a man who has had many years of
intimate acquaintance with the interesting regions penetrated
transiently by Lewis and Clark along narrow trails, contributing so
slightly as does Ross to the world’s knowledge of the country; whereas
Lewis and Clark brought back from their hurried journey a wealth of
detailed information. With ethnology, Ross exhibits greater concern. His
alliance with an Okanagan woman, and his constant contact with the
natives of the coast, gave him a command of tribal habits, traditions,
and beliefs which makes his work a valuable source for the study of
Western Indian life. The last four chapters present a good sociological
treatment of the natives of the Shahaptian family—their religion,
government, family life, and characteristics—in the primitive state,
before contact with the whites had brought modification and degeneracy.
Ross’s account of the Indians of the coast, the Clatsop and Chinookan
tribes, gives evidences of truth and accurate observation.
But it is chiefly as a narration of the fortunes of the Astorian
expedition, that we value Ross’s book. Unlike Franchère, he exhibits no
reserve, and unhesitatingly expresses his opinion of the conduct of
Captain Jonathan Thorn and Astor’s partners, during the now famous
voyage. His accounts of the adventures of the “Tonquin” and its
passengers are consequently the more vivid and personal of the two. The
dramatic situation evidently appealed strongly to our author’s
temperament; the incidents at the Falkland and Hawaiian islands, the
irascibility and unreasonableness of Thorn’s conduct, the useless
sacrifice of life to the strictness of naval discipline, are related
with no assuaging touch. Neither does the writer spare the reader an
account of the hardships and trials of the adventurers, the poor and
scanty food, the toil in felling trees and erecting buildings, the feuds
and ill feeling between the workers, and the caprices of the commanding
partners. Later, in describing the transfer of Astoria and its property
to British hands, our author unhesitatingly appears as an apologist for
the transaction, and an advocate of the pro-British party. His criticism
of Astor’s management, while partly justifiable from Ross’s standpoint,
seems to possess an element of personal pique; and for the clerks who,
like Franchère, chose to remain loyal to the American owners, Ross has
but few words of commendation. For a just estimate of the transaction,
the reader must balance probabilities between the conclusions of Irving,
Franchère, and Ross, and likewise take into consideration the
emergencies arising from the Anglo-American war.
Aside from its historical value, Ross’s _Adventures_ possesses abundant
interest for all who are stirred by clearly-delineated accounts of life
in the great silent places of earth. Our author has a graphic touch:
dangers from Indian treachery, perils of the forests and the waterways,
thrilling escapes of every sort, lose nothing under his pen; wilderness
life is vividly portrayed—the sharp contrasts between civilization and
savagery, the obstacles which beset man’s progress through the vast
solitudes of the North-west, the forbidding aspects as well as the
beauties of primeval nature; all these are presented with force and not
seldom with charm.
Assistance in annotating this volume has been received from Louise
Phelps Kellogg, Ph. D., and Edith Kathryn Lyle, Ph. D.
R. G. T.
MADISON, WIS., August, 1904.
ALEXANDER ROSS’S ADVENTURES OF THE FIRST SETTLERS ON THE OREGON OR
COLUMBIA RIVER
Reprint of the original edition (London, 1849)
[Illustration: MAP OF THE COLUMBIA.]
ADVENTURES
OF THE FIRST SETTLERS ON THE
OREGON OR COLUMBIA RIVER:
BEING
A NARRATIVE OF THE EXPEDITION FITTED OUT BY
JOHN JACOB ASTOR,
TO ESTABLISH THE
“PACIFIC FUR COMPANY;”
WITH AN ACCOUNT OF SOME
INDIAN TRIBES ON THE COAST OF THE PACIFIC.
BY ALEXANDER ROSS,
ONE OF THE ADVENTURERS.
LONDON:
SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL.
1849.
PREFACE
Having been one of the first commercial adventurers to the Columbia
River, and having spent fifteen years of my life travelling among the
savage tribes west of the Rocky Mountains, I was induced, from time to
time, to note down such incidents and opinions, illustrative of savage
life and manners, as appeared to me either new or interesting.
To the characteristic details of Indian life, I have added that of
personal adventure, the trials and misfortunes which the first
adventurers had to undergo among the Indians in that quarter; connecting
therewith an account of the trade and commerce of the country during the
early days of that bold spirit which animated the first explorers of the
Columbia.
These different subjects have been arranged and {iv} linked together in
their natural order, so as to form one complete narrative, embodying the
history of “the Pacific Fur Company.”
It is not an arm-chair narrative, derived from hearsay tales, but the
result of practical experience on the spot. From beginning to end, I had
personally to act my part in the scenes described; they passed under my
own eyes; and the account altogether may derive more value from being
authentic than from any adventitious embellishment bestowed on it.
While on this part of our subject, it may be observed that there is an
error which most travellers, especially those pioneers who first
penetrate into dark and remote regions, fall into: they generally run
into the extreme, and spoil a simple story by colouring. Not content to
leave nature in its simple garb, they must brighten or darken, magnify
or diminish, everything they describe, until at last the real likeness
of the thing is entirely effaced, and truth itself, by over-refinement,
is thrown into the shade.
What belongs to oneself is generally viewed with a partial eye; and
perhaps that partiality influences {v} my own opinion as to the interest
of the subject before us. In reference to this subject, however, others
have written on it as well as myself. Let our readers, therefore, judge
for themselves.
In presenting the present work to the public, I have no very sanguine
expectations. All I aim at is to lay before my readers a faithful and
impartial statement of what took place, during my own times, in a
quarter hitherto but little known.
Freedom from imperfection is not to be expected; yet, on the whole, I
hope that this volume will prove to the calm inquirer, in all matters
connected with the subject generally, a sure and satisfactory guide:
allowance being made for any changes that may have taken place since
this account was written—thirty years ago.
_Red River Settlement, Rupert’s Land.
Aug. 1, 1846._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
Introductory remarks—John Jacob Astor—Grasping views—Early traders
of Canada—The Hudson’s Bay Company—American fur companies—Astor’s
policy—Russian settlements—Coasting vessels—The Pacific Fur
Company—Flattering results—Oregon territory—New association—Mr.
Hunt—Golden prospects—Proposals accepted—List of adventurers—Land
party—Sea party—The ship _Tonquin_—Remarks—Opinion against
opinion—Observations—Land expedition departs—Sea party set off
for New York—Bark canoe—Spectators—Canadian voyageurs 33
CHAPTER II
The _Tonquin_ sails—Quarrels on board—The captain’s character—
Accommodations—A sudden squall—Flying fish—The captain’s
harshness—Cape de Verd Islands—Alarm of fire—A suspicious sail—
Crossing the line—Springing a leak—Short allowance of water—
Immense wave—The Falkland Islands—Rocky passage—Wild fowl—Port
Egmont Bay—The party on shore—Mr. Farnham’s gray goose—Old graves
renewed—Epitaphs—Party left behind—New dangers—Mr. Robert
Stuart’s determined conduct—Feuds on board—Cape Horn doubled—The
weather—Pilot fish—Trade winds—Rogues’ mess—Little pilot—Mouna
Roa—A man overboard—The mate in irons 43
{viii} CHAPTER III
Karakakooa Bay—The sailors desert—The captain’s conduct—Productions
of Owhyhee—Tocaigh Bay—Governor Young—Royal proclamation—Woahoo—
Ourourah, the residence of Tammeatameah—Harbour fees—Excursion on
shore—The Queen’s umbrella—The King’s appearance—Royal palace and
guards—Arsenal, or royal workshop—Royal dinner—His Majesty’s
fleet—Morais, or places of public worship—Sacred or puranee
ground tabooed—Storm—A sailor left to his fate among the natives—
Parting visit from his Majesty—His meanness—Diving of the
natives—Native proas: how made—Clothing—Customs and
peculiarities—Character of the women—White men at the Sandwich
Islands—The King’s disposition towards foreigners—Captain Cook—
Pahooas, or war spears—A sham fight—Religion—Tammeatameah
conqueror and king—Apparent happiness of the natives—Prophetic
hint—Distressed situation of a boat 57
CHAPTER IV
Departure from the Sandwich Islands—Bad weather—Live stock
destroyed—Columbia River—A boat and crew lost—Captain’s conduct
towards Mr. Fox—Mouth of the river—Bar and breakers—Cape
Disappointment—Point Adams—Narrow escape of the long boat—
Sounding the bar—A boat and crew left to perish—The ship in the
breakers—Critical situation—Melancholy narrative of Steven Weeks—
Search made for the lost boat, and narrow escape—Long boat
swamped—Fidelity of the natives—Preparations for leaving the
ship—Captain Thorn—The voyage concluded 74
CHAPTER V
Preparations for landing—Site of the new emporium of the west—
Astor’s representative—Hard work—Huge trees—Natives—Comecomly—
Mode of felling the trees—Danger—Trying scenes—Three {ix} men
killed—Three wounded—Party reduced by sickness—Disaffection—
Conduct of the deputy—Desertion—Mr. Astor’s policy—Climate—Indian
rumours—Comecomly’s intrigues and policy—Trip to the cascades—Mr.
M‘Kay and north-west notions—Anecdote—Exploring party to the
north—Several persons killed—Hostile threats of the Indians—
Potatoes and other seeds planted—New building—Astoria—Departure
of the ship—Dangerous situation of the whites—Great assemblage of
Indians—People under arms—Blunderbuss accident—Alarming moment—
Two strangers arrive—Mr. Thompson at Astoria—M‘Dougall’s policy—
The two great functionaries 88
CHAPTER VI
The ten tribes—Number of warriors—Their laws—Chief’s arbitrary
power—Dress, games, and arms of the men—Dress of the women,
slaves, and basket-making—Lewdness of the women—Food, ornaments—
The salmon—Superstitious customs—Sturgeon—Fathomfish—Roots and
berries—Circulating medium—Econé, or Good Spirit—Ecutoch, or Bad
Spirit—Etaminua, or priests—Keelalles, or doctors—War canoes—
Diseases—Winter houses—Temporary, or Summer houses—Fleas—Practice
of flattening the head—Colonization—Wallamitte—Cowlitz, or
Puget’s Sound—Conclusion 102
CHAPTER VII
First expedition into the interior—Number of the party—Tongue
Point—Canoe swamped—Sailing difficulties—Indian villages—Cedars—
First night’s encampment—Mount Coffin—Cowlitz—Wallamitte—Columbia
Valley—Point Vancouver—Difficulties—The Cascades—Concourse of
Indians—General appearance of the country—The portage—Description
of the cascades—The roll of tobacco—Pilfering—Mr. Thompson—
Exchange of men—The Long Narrows—Warlike appearance of the Indian
cavalry—Button contract—Critical situation of the party—Camp of
gamblers—The Narrows {x}—Hard work at the carrying place—A day’s
work—Description of the portage—Number of Indians—Aspect of the
country—The plains begin—End of the woods—Want of sleep—Demeanour
of the Indians 115
CHAPTER VIII
Columbia Falls—A canoe swamped—Suspicious behaviour of the Indians—
Stratagem—Umatallow—Walla Walla—Great body of Indians—Harangues—
Indian ceremonies—The great forks—Difference in the waters—Length
of the forks—The British flag—Mr. Thompson’s design—Indian ideas—
Salmon—European articles—Tummatapam—Departure from the Forks—
Indian honesty—Eyakema—Marl hills—Dead children—Superstitions—
Priest’s Rapid—Rattlesnakes—Appearance of the country—
Kewaugh-chen—Perilous situation of a canoe—The two sisters—The
old Indian—Hunting party—Horses—The priest—Piss-cows—Sopa—Great
assemblage of Indians—The comet—Oakinacken—Distance from Astoria—
Indian council—Resolve to winter—Some account of the place—The
stolen watch—The priest dismissed—Voyage concluded—The two
strangers—First building—Division of the party—Lonely winter—The
lost party—Indian trade—Mr. Stuart’s adventures 131
CHAPTER IX
Anxieties at Astoria—Indians depart—A schooner built—The _Dolly’s_
first trip—Criminal curiosity—The powder keg—The schooner
condemned—Mr. Astor’s cargoes—His policy—Remarks on the
North-West coast—Unwelcome rumours—Calpo’s statement—Rumours
renewed—Hard cases—Joe Lapierre—Kasiascall’s account of the
_Tonquin_—Strange Indian—Kasiascall’s conduct—His character—His
design on Astoria—Remarks 159
{xi} CHAPTER X
Land expedition—Hunt and M‘Kenzie—Montreal recruits—La Chine—Devout
farewell—Mackina in 1810—Fur traders of the South—Frolic parties—
Comparison between the South and North—Arrival at St. Louis—
Recruiting service—Yankees—Canoemen—Delays at St. Louis—
Difficulties—Mr. Miller—The Missouri—Canadian voyageurs—Winter
quarters—Mr. Hunt revisits St. Louis—M‘Kenzie—Mr. Astor’s policy—
The Yankees desert—Winter quarters broken up—Rocky Mountains—
Pilot knobs—New scenes—Columbia River—The horses abandoned—Take
to canoes—The canoes abandoned—Trappers—Mr. Miller—Party on foot—
Hardships—Starvation—Conflicting councils—Gloomy prospects—
Property _en cache_—The party divided—Three men perish—M‘Kenzie’s
speech—He arrives at Astoria—Mr. Crooks and others left behind—
Mr. Hunt’s arrival at Astoria—Voyage concluded 173
CHAPTER XI
Doings at Astoria—Three parties on foot—Their object—M‘Lellan’s
resolution—Hostile attack at the Long Narrows—Mr. Reed—Two
Indians shot—Heroic conduct of M‘Lellan—Difficulties adjusted—
Advance of the party—Remarks—Arrival at Oakinacken—Departure
again for Astoria—Scene at Umatallow—Mr. Crook’s adventures and
suffering—Yeck-a-tap-am—Umatallow left—Merit rewarded—Arrival of
the party at Astoria—The ship _Beaver_ there also 186
CHAPTER XII
General meeting of the partners—Resolutions passed—Departure of the
parties for the interior—Mr. Clarke—The cascades—Wyampam, or the
Long Narrows—Situation of the party—Loss of time—Mr. M‘Kenzie—A
stroll through the Indian camp—Mr. Clarke’s alarms—Command
transferred—Reed’s rifle recovered—A robber in irons—The five
shots—Yeck-a-tap-am rewarded—Mr. Stuart’s departure {xii} for St.
Louis—Second division—Summer trip to She Whaps—Boullard and his
squaw—Mr. Stuart’s arrival at Oakinacken—Departure for She Whaps—
Winter operations at Oakinacken—Visits—Travelling scenes—A night
in the snow—Jacque and his powder-horn—Mr. Stuart’s account of
his journey—Arrival at Walla Walla 194
CHAPTER XIII
Mr. Clarke—Stragglers—Hard Travelling—Cox’s pilgrimage—Visit to
Spokane—Trade—Mr. Pillet—Mr. Farnham—Cootanais and Flatheads—
M‘Lennan—Plunge in the lake—Adventures—Outposts—Catatouch chief—
Curiosity—Fracas—Introduction of civilization—Commotion—M‘Kenzie—
Great Snake River—Caches robbed—Canadian wanderers—Character of
the Shahaptains—Visit to Spokane—M‘Tavish—Account of the war—
Winter travels—M‘Kenzie at Astoria—New resolves—M‘Kenzie’s return
to his post—Indian chiefs—Bold enterprize—Property recovered—
Chiefs and their horses—Stratagems—Indians outwitted—Plotting—
Friendly Island—Conference—Marauding propensities—Treaty of
peace—System changed—Plentiful market—The island abandoned—
Arrival at Walla Walla—Commotions among the savages—Tummeatapam—
Arrival at Astoria 207
CHAPTER XIV
Mr. Stuart—Snake River—Trappers—Joyous meeting—Trapper’s
resolution—Crow Indians’ troubles—Horses change masters—Mr.
Stuart on foot—M‘Lellan left alone—Hardships of the party—Famine—
Le Clerc’s horrid proposition—The old bull—The old horse—Pilot
knobs—Winter quarters—Unwelcome visitors—Change of quarters—
Spring—Travelling at random—An Otto Indian—River Platte—Two
traders—News of the war—The Missouri—The old horse given for an
old canoe—St. Louis—Mr. Astor—Wallamitte—Falls—Scenery—Habits of
the Collap-poh-yea-ass tribes—Concourse of savages—M‘Dougall’s
letter—{xiii} M‘Kenzie’s stratagem—Indian disappointment—The ship
_Beaver_—Coasting voyage—Mr. Astor’s policy—Captains—Their
instructions—Mr. Hunt baulked in his plans—The Boston merchants—
Mr. Astor’s conduct—Difficulties of Mr. Hunt’s situation—The ship
_Albatross_—All the parties at headquarters 222
CHAPTER XV
Meeting of the partners—Warm discussion—M‘Kenzie—Eloquence of the
times—Reasons for dissolving the company—Dissenting partners
converted—Final resolve—The deputy’s powers—Departure of the
brigade—A canoe lost—A man’s leg in jeopardy—Rumours at the
narrows—Snake party—Rumours renewed—Tummeatapam’s counsel—Hostile
appearance at the forks—Number of Indians—Nez Percés’ fleet—Fears
of the whites—Indian visit—Strong guard—Mr. Clarke—Relic of the
silver goblet—Mr. Hunt at Astoria—Face of affairs changed—Mr.
Hunt departs from Astoria—North-West squadron—A great Eri duped—
Bill of sale—Petty manœuvring—Rumours of ships—The Astorians at
their post—Bill signed—Astoria delivered up—North-West Company 236
CHAPTER XVI
Mr. Franchère—Comecomly’s anxiety—His report of a sail—His
attachment to the Americans—Laframboise, the interpreter—Mr.
M‘Dougall’s visit—The _Racoon_ sloop-of-war—Comecomly grows
partial to the British flag—North-West partners—British officers—
Astoria changed to Fort George—Captain Black’s character—Mr.
Hunt’s voyage—Commodore Porter—Mr. Hunt leaves the Marquesas—
Arrival at the Sandwich Islands—Rumours—The ship _Lark_—Eight
persons perish—Columbian affairs—The property delivered—No ice—
The people assembled—Voyage—The Cascade banditti—Two North-West
canoes—North-West affray at the cascades—Mr. Stuart wounded—Mr.
Keith’s conduct—Preparations for war—The great expedition—Conduct
of the Cath-le-yach-é-yach Indians—Expedition fails—The effect—
Remarks 246
{xiv} CHAPTER XVII
Party to the Wallamitte—Hunt’s voyage concluded—The brig _Pedlar_—
M‘Dougall suspected—His character vindicated—Mr. Hunt’s remarks
on the late concern—His liberality—His farewell address to the
clerks—Final departure from Columbia—The party for Canada—Efforts
and disappointments—Snake expedition—The melancholy story of
Pierre Dorion’s wife—Massacre of the Snake party—Remarks—A winter
in the Blue Mountains—List of casualties—Astor’s hopes
disappointed—Comment on the late concern 261
CHAPTER XVIII
Origin of the Oakinackens—Religion—Good Spirit—Evil Spirit—Ideas of a
future state—Ceremonies—End of this world—Extent of country—Names and
number of tribes—Warriors—Population—Royal family—The great chief, or
Red Fox—Wild hemp—Long journeys—Barter—Emblem of royalty—Government—
Indian ideas—Council of chiefs—Manners—Employments—Plurality of wives—
Brawls—Dress and clothing—Stratagems—A savage in wolfs clothing—Painted
faces and sleek hair 272
CHAPTER XIX
Marriage contracts—National custom—Exchange of presents—Nocturnal
visits—The object—Purchasing the bride—Customs on the occasion—
Feuds and quarrels—Tla-quillaugh, or Indian doctor—His office—
Precarious life—Mode of paying him—Manner of treating the sick—
Customs and ceremonies on the occasion—Hard duty—Superstitions—
Knowledge of roots and herbs—Curing wounds—Diseases, or general
complaints—Gambling—Tsill-all-a-come, or the national game—Manner
of playing it—Bets—Gambling propensities—Hot baths—Manner of
using them—On what occasions—Indian qualifications—Gymnastic
exercise—Comparison—General remarks 283
{xv} CHAPTER XX
Social habits—Winter habitations—Economy of the winter—Summer
employments—Collecting of food—Fish barriers—Salmon—Division of
labour—Roots and berries—Scenes at the fish camp—Mode of catching
the deer—Preparation of food—Furnaces or ovens—Implements of
warfare—Spampt, how made—Pine moss—Bread, how prepared—Great
war-dance—Manner of fighting—Treaties of peace—Scalps—Slaves—
Funeral ceremonies—Mode of interment—Graves—Superstitions—
Emblems—Customs—Mourning—Punishments—Sedate habits and docile
dispositions 295
CHAPTER XXI
Calculation of time—Singular manner of naming children—Peculiar
modes of address—Anecdote of an Indian chief—Indian forbearance—
Conduct of the whites in Indian countries—Comparison of crime
between Indians and whites—Manner of swaddling infants—Hardships
during infancy—Savage customs—Indian constitution—Chief cause of
scanty population—A day’s journey—Calculation of distance—Rough
roads—Indian ideas—Social habits—Some remarks on the system
adopted for converting Indians to the Christian faith 304
APPENDIX
Chinook Vocabulary 321
Table of the Weather at the Mouth of the Columbia 330
ADVENTURES OF THE FIRST SETTLERS
ON THE COLUMBIA RIVER
CHAPTER I
Introductory remarks—John Jacob Astor—Grasping views—Early traders of
Canada—The Hudson’s Bay Company—American fur companies—Astor’s
policy—Russian settlements—Coasting vessels—The Pacific Fur Company—
Flattering results—Oregon territory—New association—Mr. Hunt—Golden
prospects—Proposals accepted—List of adventurers—Land party—Sea
party—The ship _Tonquin_—Remarks—Opinion against opinion—
Observations—Land expedition departs—Sea party set off for New York—
Bark canoe—Spectators—Canadian voyageurs.
When I first conceived the idea of writing the following narrative, my
design was to begin with a brief outline of the discoveries already made
on the coast of the Pacific, from Drake in 1579 to Vancouver in 1792;[2]
or, rather, down to the present time; but, on second thoughts, I felt
convinced that enough had been done already in that branch of {2}
inquiry; or, at least, that the further prosecution of it might be
better left to those who aspire to literary fame. Mine is an humbler
ambition—not to figure as an author, but to record faithfully, as a
trader, the events in which I bore a part; and, in so doing, to gratify
a desire kindled by an acquaintance with strange scenes and new fields
of action, in a remote country which is still but little known.
The progress of discovery contributes not a little to the enlightenment
of mankind; for mercantile interest stimulates curiosity and adventure,
and combines with them to enlarge the circle of knowledge. To the spirit
of enterprise developed in the service of commercial speculation,
civilized nations owe not only wealth and territorial acquisitions, but
also their acquaintance with the earth and its productions. The
illustration of these remarks will be found in the following pages.
* * * * *
Mr. Astor of New York, a German by birth, but a citizen of the United
States, raised himself, by his adventurous and enterprising spirit, from
small beginnings to be one of the wealthiest and most eminent merchants
in America. Soon after his arrival in the United States, about the year
1784, he commenced his commercial career in the traffic of furs: at
first on a very narrow scale, but gradually expanding as his means
increased. In this way he made visits to Canada, purchasing furs in that
country, and shipping them from thence to the London market: {3} and it
is supposed that at this period his buoyant and aspiring mind conceived
the vast project of grasping in his own hands, at some future day, the
whole fur trade of North America.[3]
The valuable furs and peltries scattered in former days over the
extensive forests, lakes, and rivers of the Canadas, like the rich mines
of Potosi and Mexico, invited many adventurers. The French, for some
time after settling there, carried on an irregular but lucrative traffic
in furs and peltries, with very little opposition, until the year 1670,
when the Hudson’s Bay Company, established by royal charter, took
possession of the territory now called “Rupert’s Land,” or Hudson’s Bay.
The Canada, or as it was more generally called, the North-West Company,
was formed in 1787; and these soon became the two great rival companies
of the north, as we shall have occasion to notice more fully hereafter.
Next on the theatre of action appeared the Mackina Company, which swept
the warm regions of the south, as the two others did those of the wintry
north, until the American Fur Company, established by Mr. Astor in 1809,
commenced operations; but he, finding the Mackina fur traders somewhat
in his way, bought out that Company, and added its territorial resources
in 1811 to those of the American Fur Company. This body corporate was
entitled the South-West, in contradistinction to the North-West
Company.[4]
Mr. Astor now saw himself at the head of all the {4} fur trade of the
south, and his intention was to penetrate through the barriers of the
Northern Company, so as eventually to come into possession of all the
fur trade east of the Rocky Mountains. With this plan still before him,
he now turned his views to the trade on the coast of the Pacific, or
that new field lying west of the Rocky Mountains, and which forms the
subject of our present narrative. In this quarter the Russians alone had
regular trading ports, opposite to Kamtschatka, where they still carry
on a considerable trade in furs and seal-skins, sending them across the
Pacific direct to China. Their capital is limited, and their hunting
grounds almost entirely confined to the sea-coast and islands around
their establishments. The American coasting vessels also frequent this
quarter, collecting vast quantities of valuable furs, which they convey
to the Chinese market. This casual traffic by coasters, yielded to their
owners in former days, by means of the returning cargo, an average clear
gain of a thousand per cent. every second year; but these vessels are
not so numerous of late, nor are the profits thus made so great as
formerly.
The comprehensive mind of Mr. Astor could not but see these things in
their true light, and perceive that if such limited and desultory
traffic produced such immense profits, what might not be expected from a
well-regulated trade, supported by capital and prosecuted with system:
at all events, the Russian trader would then be confined within {5} his
own limits, and the coasting vessels must soon disappear altogether.
Towards the accomplishment of the great plan which he had in view, Mr.
Astor now set about opening a new branch of the fur trade on the
Pacific, under the appellation of the “Pacific Fur Company,” the grand
central depôt of which was to be at the mouth of the Columbia River, the
“Oregon of the Spaniards.”[5] By this means he contemplated carrying off
the furs of all the countries west of the Rocky Mountains; at the same
time forming a chain of trading posts across the Continent, from the
Atlantic to the Pacific, along the waters of the great Missouri:
connecting by this chain the operations of the South-West Company on the
east, with that of the Pacific Fur Company on the west side of the
dividing ridge.
This grand commercial scheme, appearing now plain and practicable, at
least to men of sanguine disposition, gave much satisfaction to the
American public, who, from the results contemplated, became deeply
interested in its success; for all the rich cargoes of furs and peltries
thus to be collected annually over the vast expanse were to be shipped
in American vessels for the great China mart, there to be sold, and the
proceeds invested in a return cargo of teas, silks, beads, and nankeens,
and other articles of high demand in the United States; which would not
only prevent to some extent the American specie from going out of the
Union for such articles, but also turn the barren wilds of the north and
far {6} west into a source of national wealth. Some, however, of the
more sagacious and influential among the Americans themselves observed
to Mr. Astor at the time, that his plan would be likely to give umbrage
to the British, and arouse them to assert more speedily their claims of
prior discovery to the Oregon quarter, and that such a step would
operate against him. To these suggestions Mr. Astor simply observed,
“that he had thought of that, but intended chiefly to employ in his
undertaking British subjects, and that he should on that account give
less offence; besides,” added, he, “the claims of prior discovery and
territorial right are claims to be settled by Government only, and not
by an individual.”
Mr. Astor’s plans, hitherto known only to a few, now began to develope
themselves more publicly. On the first intimation of the scheme, the
North-Westerns took the alarm; for having already, in the prosecution of
their trade, penetrated to the west side of the Rocky Mountains, in the
direction of New Caledonia and the north branch of the Columbia, where
they expected to reap a rich harvest, they viewed Astor’s expedition to
that quarter with a jealous eye, according to the old adage that “two of
a trade seldom agree;” but others again extolled the brilliant project,
as the brightest gem in the American Union, and particularly many of the
retired partners of the North-West Company, who, not being provided for
in some late arrangements, had left that concern in disgust, and
therefore were the most likely {7} to oppose with effect the ambitious
views of their former coadjutors. These were just the men Mr. Astor had
in his eye; men of influence and experience among savages, and who from
their earlier days had been brought up in, and habituated to, the
hardships of the Indian trade. To several of these persons Mr. Astor
disclosed his plans and made proposals, whereupon Messrs. M‘Kay,
M‘Kenzie, M‘Dougall, and Stuart, entered into his views, and became
partners in the new concern.[6] The former of these gentlemen had
accompanied Sir Alexander M‘Kenzie in his voyages of discovery to the
North Polar Sea in 1789, and to the Pacific in 1793, the narratives of
which are before the public; and most of the others had equal
experience, and were all of them in some way or other related to the
great men at the head of the North-West Company.[7]
Articles of association and co-partnership were therefore entered into
and concluded at New York, in the spring of 1810, between those
gentlemen and Mr. Astor, establishing the firm of the Pacific Fur
Company, as already noticed; to which firm five other partners, namely,
Messrs. Hunt, Crooks, Miller, M‘Lellan, and Clarke, were soon afterwards
added.[8] The association was not a joint-stock concern; Mr. Astor alone
furnished the capital, amounting to 200,000 dollars, divided into 100
shares of 2000 dollars each, with power to increase the capital to
500,000 dollars.
The association was formed for a period of twenty {8} years, but with
this proviso, that it was to be dissolved if it proved either
unprofitable or impracticable, after a trial of five years; during which
trial, however, Mr. Astor, as stockholder, was alone to bear all
expenses and losses, the other partners giving only their time and
labour. Of the above shares, Mr. Astor held fifty in his own hands; Mr.
Hunt, as his representative and chief manager of the business, five;
while the other partners, who were to carry on the trade with the
Indians, were to have four each, in the event of the business
succeeding. The remaining shares were reserved for the clerks, who
joined the concern as adventurers, without any other remuneration than
their chances of success at the end of the five years’ trial. The only
exceptions were Mr. Robert Stuart and myself, who were to have our
promotion at the end of the third year. From the proportion of interest,
or number of shares in the hands of the stockholder and his
representative, it will appear evident that the other partners, however
unanimous they might be, could never have gained a majority of votes in
any case over those which might have been by proxy appointed to
represent Astor.
At the head depôt, or general rendezvous, was to be stationed Mr.
Astor’s representative. The person appointed to this important trust was
Wilson Price Hunt, a gentleman from New Jersey, who alone, of the whole
party, had never been engaged in the Indian trade; yet his active
habits, perseverance, and enterprise, soon made good his want of
experience, {9} and enabled him to discharge the duties of his station.
In him was also vested the chief authority, or, in his absence, in
M‘Dougall. It was therefore to either or to both of these gentlemen that
all Mr. Astor’s measures were made known, and all his cargoes consigned.
At the time when these novel schemes were first agitated, I was in Upper
Canada; and the first intimation I had of them was in a letter from Mr.
M‘Kay, the senior partner, requesting an interview with me at Montreal.
To Montreal I accordingly went in the month of May; and there, for the
first time, I saw the gilded prospectus of the new Company, and,
accepting the proposals made to me by Mr. Astor, was the first to join
the expedition;—and who at the time would not have joined it, for,
although the North-Westerns tried to throw all the cold water of the St.
Lawrence on the project, yet they could not extinguish the flame it had
spread abroad. The flattering hopes and golden prospects held out to
adventurers, so influenced the public mind, that the wonder-stricken
believers flocked in from all quarters to share in the wonderful riches
of the far west.
It need not be wondered at, if, under the influence of such extravagant
expectations, many applicants appeared; but in accordance with Astor’s
plan, that the business should be carried on only by persons of
well-tested merit and experience, for on their habits of perseverance
and enterprise alone rested all hopes {10} of ultimate success, his
assistants were selected with more than ordinary care, every poor fellow
that engaged being led to believe that his fortune was already made.
Here Messrs. Franchère, Pillet, M‘Gillis, Farnham, and M‘Lennan, besides
Mr. Stuart and myself, joined the adventurers;[9] besides five tradesmen
or mechanics, and twenty-four canoe men, the best that could be found of
their classes.
Operations were now deemed requisite for the accomplishment of the
Company’s views; therefore, while one party, headed by Mr. Hunt, was
ordered to make its way across the Continent by land, another party,
headed by Mr. M‘Kay, was to proceed by sea in the _Tonquin_, a ship of
300 tons, and mounting twelve guns. The _Tonquin’s_ course was round
Cape Horn, for the north-west coast. The Columbia River was to be the
common destination of both parties. The land party at its outset
consisted of only seventeen persons, but Mr. Hunt’s object was to
augment that number to about eighty as he passed along, by means of
American trappers and hunters from the south. Here M‘Kenzie strongly
recommended Mr. Hunt to take all his men from Canada, as too much time
might probably be lost in collecting them from the south; and besides,
Canadians, as he thought, would answer much better; but Mr. Hunt adhered
to his first plan.
The arrangement of these two expeditions, in which M‘Kay, whose life had
been spent in voyaging through the Indian countries, and who was nowise
{11} qualified as a merchant, had resigned the inland voyage to a
gentleman, bred to mercantile pursuits, but unacquainted with this new
mode of travelling, exhibited such an egregious inversion of the
ordinary rules of prudence, as gave rise to much comment.
Matters being so far settled, Mr. Hunt, who was now seconded by Mr.
M‘Kenzie, left La Chine, nine miles south of Montreal, with the land
expedition, in the beginning of July; and, on the 20th of the same
month, the ship party, consisting of three partners, five clerks, Mr.
Stuart, and myself, five mechanics, and fourteen canoe men, left
Montreal for New York, where we were to embark. Of this number, however,
M‘Kay and eight of the most expert voyageurs proceeded in a bark canoe
through the States: on all such occasions there is a kind of mutual
understanding between both parties, that is, between the canoe men and
the canoe, the former undertaking to carry the latter over the land part
of the journey, while the latter is bound to carry the others safe over
water. The appearance of this unusual kind of craft on the American
waters, with the cheerful chantings of its crew, their feathered caps
and sylvan appearance, as they approached the gay city of New York,
attracted such a crowd of spectators of all classes around them, as left
but little space to land; but what was the astonishment, when, in the
twinkling of an eye, two of the crew were seen to shoulder their craft,
capable of containing {12} two tons weight, and to convey it to a place
of safety on terra firma. Mr. Astor, who happened to be present, was so
delighted with the vivacity and dexterity of the two men, that he gave
them an eagle to drink his health; then turning round, observed to some
gentlemen who were standing by, that “six Americans could not do what
these two brawny fellows had done,” which observation gave rise to some
further remarks, when Mr. M‘Kay, with an air of confidence, challenged
the swiftest New York boat for a three mile race, offering to bet ten to
one on his canoe men, but, after what had been witnessed, no one
appeared disposed to risk his money. It is scarcely necessary in this
place to observe, that the Canadian voyageurs are among the most expert
and venturesome canoe men in the world.
{13} CHAPTER II[10]
The _Tonquin_ sails—Quarrels on board—The captain’s character—
Accommodations—A sudden squall—Flying fish—The captain’s harshness—
Cape de Verd Islands—Alarm of fire—A suspicious sail—Crossing the
line—Springing a leak—Short allowance of water—Immense wave—The
Falkland Islands—Rocky passage—Wild fowl—Port Egmont Bay—The party
on shore—Mr. Farnham’s gray goose—Old graves renewed—Epitaphs—Party
left behind—New dangers—Mr. Robert Stuart’s determined conduct—Feuds
on board—Cape Horn doubled—The weather—Pilot fish—Trade winds—
Rogues’ mess—Little pilot—Mouna Roa—A man overboard—The mate in
irons.
On the 6th of September, 1810, all hands—twenty-two belonging to the
ship, and thirty-three passengers—being on board, the _Tonquin_ set
sail, and a fresh breeze springing up, soon wafted her to a distance
from the busy shores of New York. We had not proceeded far, when we were
joined by the American frigate _Constitution_, which was to escort us
clear of the coast. On the 7th, in the afternoon, we passed Sandy Hook
lighthouse, and the next day the _Constitution_ returned, we dismissed
our pilot, and were soon out of sight of land, steering a S.E. course.
{14} So far all was bustle and confusion upon deck, and every place in
the ship was in such topsy-turvy state, with what sailors call live and
dead lumber, that scarcely any one knew how or where he was to be
stowed; and it was in settling this knotty point that the crusty
supremacy of the high-minded captain was first touched. Captain Jonathan
Thorn had been brought up in the American navy, had signalized himself,
and upon the present occasion he stood upon his own quarter-deck.
Matters went on well enough till we came to the mechanics: these young
men had been selected from the most respectable of their class, had been
promised by their employers situations as clerks in the trade whenever
vacancies should occur, and in consequence, serving in the twofold
capacity of clerks and tradesmen, they were entitled, by their
engagements, whilst on board ship to the same treatment as the other
clerks; but behold when the captain came to assign them their place, it
was not in either the second or the third cabin, no, nor in the
steerage, but before the mast among the common sailors. In vain did they
remonstrate, and equally vain was it for them to produce copies of their
engagements; right or wrong, forward they must go; but that was not all;
to the grievance of bad accommodations was added that of an insult to
their feelings, by being compelled, as a further punishment for their
obstinacy, to perform the duties of common seamen both by day and night.
After this bit of a row with the captain, they applied for {15} redress
to the partners on board, the very persons with whom they had executed
their agreements. The partners interposed, and in their turn
remonstrated with the captain, but without effect; he remained
inexorable. Both parties then getting into a violent passion, Mr. M‘Kay
said, “That his people would defend themselves rather than suffer such
treatment.” On hearing this, the captain, suddenly turning round on his
heel, defied Mr. M‘Kay and his people, adding, “that he would blow out
the brains of the first man who dared to disobey his orders on board his
own ship.” In the midst of this scene, Mr. David Stuart, a good old
soul, stept up, and by his gentle and timely interference put an end to
the threatening altercation.
This was the first specimen we had of the captain’s disposition, and it
laid the foundation of a rankling hatred between the partners and
himself, which ended only with the voyage, and not only that, but it
soon spread like a contagion amongst all classes, so that party spirit
ran high: the captain and his people viewing the passengers as the
passengers did them, with no very cordial feelings. Whilst these feuds
agitated the great folks at the head of affairs, we amused ourselves
with conjectures as to the issue of the contest. A new leaf was to be
turned over, the captain forbade the partners the starboard side of the
quarter-deck; the clerks, the quarter-deck altogether; and as for the
poor mechanics and Canadians, they were ruled ever after with a rod of
iron. All this {16} time the _Tonquin_ was speeding her way proudly over
the wide bosom of the Atlantic, until the 18th, in the morning, when she
was struck with a sudden squall, which backed all the sails and placed
her in a critical position for about two minutes; her stern going down
foremost was almost under water, when all at once she recovered and
relieved our anxiety. The next day two sail were descried a head, all
hands were mustered on deck, and each had his station assigned to him in
case of coming to close quarters. For some days past the flying fish
appeared in immense numbers, passing frequently through the ship’s
rigging, and now and then falling on the deck. We measured one of them
and found its length to be 5½ inches, circumference of the body 2
inches; the wings, situate near the gills, resemble in texture the wings
of the bat, and measure, when stretched, 5 inches between the tips. In
their flight they generally rise to 15 or 20 feet above the surface of
the water, and fly about 150 yards at a time. As soon as their wings get
dry they fall again into the water, and only fly to avoid their
pursuers. They are the prey of the dolphin and other large fishes.
On the 6th of October we made one of the Cape de Verd Islands, on the
coast of Africa. It proved to be Bonavista, in lat. 16° N. and long. 22°
47′ W. The land, covered with a blue haze, appeared broken, barren, and
rocky. The weather was overcast, and we had heavy rain and thunder at
the time. Near this place immense shoals of porpoises kept skipping {17}
on the surface of the water going southwards. They were said to
prognosticate the near approach of bad weather. We found the changes of
the weather here very remarkable, from calm to rough, from foul to fair;
clear, cloudy, wet, dry, hazy, and squally alternately, with the usual
finale of mist and rain, and not unfrequently all these changes within
the twenty-four hours.
After leaving the land, some of the gentlemen amused themselves one fine
evening with shooting at a mark suspended from the ship’s stern, under
which a boat lay secured; soon afterwards, in the dusk of the evening,
smoke was seen to issue from that quarter; the alarm of fire was given,
and in an instant all the people assembled on deck in a state of wild
confusion, some calling out to broach the water-casks, others running to
and fro in search of water, some with mugs, others with decanters, while
the _mâitre de cuisine_ was robbed of his broth and dish water—no one,
in the hurry and bustle of the moment, ever thought of dipping the
buckets alongside. At length to the inexpressible joy of all, it was
discovered that the smoke was occasioned only by the wadding of the guns
setting fire to some old junk which was lying in the boat astern. This
gentle warning, however, put an end to such sport in future. Some angry
words took place between the captain and Mr. Fox, the first mate, on
which the latter was suspended from duty, and ordered below: no other
reason could be assigned for this act but {18} the friendly and sociable
terms existing between the mate and the partners; for by this time such
was the ill feeling between the captain and the passengers generally,
that scarcely a word passed between them. After three days’ confinement
Mr. Fox was reinstated.
Just as we entered the trade winds, a sail appeared about two leagues to
leeward; she gained fast upon us, and dogged us all day, and the next
morning was close under our stern. She appeared to be an armed brig, and
pierced for twenty guns, and looked very suspicious; very few hands,
however, were to be seen on her deck, which might have been a manœuvre
to decoy us alongside. We were prepared for combat, at least as far as a
good display of numbers on deck: for to our numbers, and not to either
our skill or discipline, did we chiefly trust, and it is probable this
show had the desired effect, for she soon bore away and we saw her no
more.
On the 25th, in long. 26° 24′ W. we crossed the equinoctial line, and
here the usual ceremony of ducking was performed on such of the sailors
as had never before entered the southern hemisphere. The heat was
intense, the weather a dead calm, and the ocean smooth as a sheet of
glass. The thermometer stood at 92° in the shade.
In lat. 3° 17′ S. and long. 26° 40′ W. we spoke a brig from Liverpool
bound to Pernambuco. On nearing this old and ghastly-looking hulk, which
apparently had but few hands on board, we thought {19} ourselves
exceedingly strong compared to her, and I suppose from the bold front we
presented, put her in as much bodily fear as the armed brig some days
before did us.
On the 10th of November a violent gale came on, which lasted for fifty
hours without intermission, and did us considerable damage, our jib and
jib-boom being both carried off, and a leak of considerable extent
sprung; but as it was easy of access, we soon got it stopped again. In
the night of the 14th, an alarm of fire was again given; but after much
confusion it ended without serious consequences. Of all calamities that
of fire on board ship seems to be the most terrific, and every
precaution was taken to prevent any accident of the kind, for at nine
o’clock every night all the lights were, by the captain’s orders, put
out, and this rule was strictly observed during the voyage. In these
latitudes we saw many turtle, and caught some of them sleeping on the
water, one of which weighed forty-five pounds; we also frequently met
with what the sailors call a Portuguese man-of-war, or sea-bladder,
floating on the surface of the waters.
In lat. 35° S. and 42° 17′ W. we experienced another tempestuous gale,
which lasted upwards of forty hours. During this violent storm the ship
laboured hard, and sustained damage. Two new leaks were observed, and
many of the sails blown to rags. Although the top and top-gallant masts
had been lowered, six of the guns got dismounted, and {20} kept for some
time rolling like thunder on the deck, and the ship in a constant heavy
sea. For seventeen hours she scudded before the wind, and went in that
time two hundred and twenty miles; nothing alarming, however, took place
until eight o’clock in the morning of the second day, when a very heavy
sea broke over the stern, and filled us all with consternation. This
wave, like a rolling mountain, passed over her deck ten feet high, and
broke with a tremendous crash about the mainmast; yet, fortunately, no
lives were lost, for on its near approach we all clung to the rigging,
and by that means saved ourselves. On the weather moderating the
carpenter was soon at work, and succeeded effectually in stopping the
leaks. On the 20th our allowance of water, already short by one-half,
was lessened to a pint and a half per man, and on the 2nd of December to
a pint each man per day—then a gallon of brandy was offered for a pint
of fresh water! but on the 5th, when the joyful sight of land was
announced, a hogshead of water was offered in return for a pint of
brandy. In the afternoon of this day, we made the N. W. point of one of
the Falkland Islands, the rugged and solitary features of which
presented a truly romantic appearance. Near this spot are three
remarkable peaked rocks, or insular bluffs, of considerable height, and
nearly equal distance from each other. We soon afterwards came close in
with the shore, and beheld a rocky surface, with an aspect of hopeless
sterility. {21} Here we came to an anchor; but the captain not liking
the place changed his resolution of taking in water there.
During the few hours, however, which we spent on shore, while the ship
lay at anchor, one of the sailors, named Johnston, strolled out of the
way. The captain, nevertheless, gave orders to weigh anchor, declaring
that he would leave the fellow to his fate; but after much entreaty he
consented to wait an hour, adding, that if the man did not return in
that time he should never more set foot on board his ship. A party
immediately volunteered to go in search of the lost tar. This party
after beating about in vain for some time, at last thought of setting
fire to the few tufts of grass which here and there alone decked the
surface. This expedient succeeded, and the man was found, having fallen
asleep near the water’s edge. But the hour had unfortunately elapsed,
and the loss of a few minutes more so enraged the captain, that he not
only threatened the man’s life, but maltreated all those who had been
instrumental in finding him. We then set sail, and had much difficulty
in effecting a passage through a narrow strait which lay before us,
interrupted in many places by ledges of rocks, which were literally
covered with seals, penguins, white and grey geese, ducks, shags,
albatrosses, eagles, hawks, and vultures. After making our way through
this intricate pass, we again came to anchor.
{22} On the 7th of December we anchored in Port Egmont Bay, for the
purpose of taking in a supply of water. The bay or inlet of Port Egmont
is about a mile long, and half a mile broad, and sheltered from almost
every wind that blows. All hands now were set to work; two of the mates
and two-thirds of the crew, together with the mechanics and Canadians,
commenced replenishing the water-casks, whilst the other two mates with
the remainder of the people were employed on board repairing the
rigging, and putting everything in a fit condition for a new start.
During these operations the partners and clerks, and frequently the
captain also, went sporting on shore, where wild fowl of all kinds
stunned our ears with their noises, and darkened the air with their
numbers, and were generally so very tame, or rather stupid, that we
often killed them with sticks and stones, and the sailors in their boats
often knocked down the ducks and penguins with their oars in passing the
rocks. The only quadruped we saw on land was a wolverine of ordinary
size, which one of our party shot.
Our tent was pitched on shore, not above four hundred yards from the
ship; this was our sporting rendezvous. On the 10th all the water-casks
were ready, and the captain on going on board that evening said to Mr.
M‘Dougall, that the ship would probably sail the next day. Soon after,
however, Messrs. M‘Kay and M‘Dougall also went on board, where they
passed the night; but coming ashore {23} the next morning, they told us
that the ship would not sail till the 12th, and that all hands were
ordered on board on that night.
In the mean time Mr. Farnham, one of the clerks, had caught a grey
goose, which he tied to a stone between our hut and the landing-place,
in order to have some sport with it. Soon afterwards the captain,
happening to come on shore, and seeing the goose, he up with his gun to
shoot at it. Thinking, however, that he had missed it, he instantly
reloaded and fired again, and seeing the goose flutter he ran up to
catch it, when he discovered his mistake, on which we all burst out a
laughing. Nettled at this, he immediately turned round and went on board
again. Meantime, Messrs. M‘Dougall and Stuart started across the point
after game; whilst Mr. M‘Kay, myself, and some others, went up the bay a
little to repair two old graves which we had discovered in a dilapidated
state the day before. On one of these graves was the following
rudely-cut inscription on a board:—“William Stevens, aged twenty-two
years, killed by a fall from a rock, on the 21st of September, 1794;” on
the other, “Benjamin Peak died of the smallpox on the 5th of January,
1803, ship _Eleonora_, Captain Edmund Cole, Providence, Rhode Island.”
While we were thus eagerly employed, little did we suspect what was
going on in another quarter; for, about two o’clock in the afternoon,
one of our party called out, “The ship’s off!”—when all of us, {24}
running to the top of a little eminence, beheld, to our infinite
surprise and dismay, the _Tonquin_, under full sail, steering out of the
bay. We knew too well the callous and headstrong passions of the wayward
captain to hesitate a moment in determining what to do; with hearts,
therefore, beating between anxious hope and despair, some made for the
boat, whilst others kept running and firing over hill and dale to warn
Messrs. M‘Dougall and Stuart, who had not yet returned. In half an hour
we were all at the water’s edge; the ship by this time was three miles
out at sea. We were now nine persons on shore, and we had to stow,
squat, and squeeze ourselves into a trumpery little boat, scarcely
capable of holding half our number. In this dreadful dilemma, we
launched on a rough and tempestuous sea, and, against wind and tide,
followed the ship. The wind blowing still fresher and fresher, every
succeeding wave threatened our immediate destruction. Our boat already
half full of water, and ourselves, as may be supposed, drenched with the
surges passing over her, we gave up all hope of succeeding in the
unequal struggle, and a momentary pause ensued, when we deliberated
whether we should proceed in the perilous attempt or return to land. The
ship was now at least two leagues ahead of us, and just at this time the
man who was bailing out the water in the boat unfortunately let go and
lost the pail, and one of our oars being broken in the struggle to
recover it, our destiny seemed sealed beyond a doubt. A second
deliberation {25} ended in the resolve to reach the ship or perish in
the attempt. The weather now grew more violent; the wind increased; and,
what was worst of all, the sun had just sunk under the horizon, and the
fearful night began to spread its darkness over the turbulent deep.
Every ray of hope now vanished: but so shortsighted is man, that the
moment when he least expects it, relief often comes from an unseen hand;
and such was our case; for in an instant our hopeless anxiety was turned
into joy by the ship suddenly making down to our assistance: but here
again we had a new danger to contend with; for, on coming alongside, we
were several times like to be engulfed or dashed to pieces by the heavy
seas and rolling of the ship. The night was dark; the weather stormy;
and death in a thousand forms stared us in the face. At length, after
many ineffectual attempts and much manœuvring, we succeeded in getting
on board; having been in the boat upwards of six hours. That the
captain’s determination was to leave us all to our fate, there is not
the least doubt; for he declared so afterwards, in a letter written to
Mr. Astor from the Sandwich Islands, and he was only prevented from
carrying his purposes into effect by the determined conduct of Mr.
Robert Stuart, who, seizing a brace of pistols, peremptorily told the
captain to order about ship and save the boat; or, he added, “You are a
dead man this instant.”
During the night the gale increased almost to a hurricane, so that two
of our sails were torn to pieces, {26} and the side-rails broke by the
labouring of the ship; so we had to lie-to under a storm-staysail for
six hours. The reader is here left to picture to himself how matters
went on after the scene just described. All the former feuds and
squabbles between the captain and passengers sink into insignificance
compared to the recent one. Sullen and silent, both parties passed and
repassed each other in their promenades on deck without uttering a word;
but their looks bespoke the hatred that burnt within. The partners on
the quarter-deck made it now a point to speak nothing but the Scotch
dialect; while the Canadians on the forecastle spoke French—neither of
which did the captain understand; and as both groups frequently passed
hours together, cracking their jokes and chanting their outlandish
songs, the commander seemed much annoyed on these occasions, pacing the
deck in great agitation. Yet all this time the ship good was hastening
on her way.
On the 15th we saw Staten Land, whose forked peaks and rugged surface
exhibited much snow. Soon afterwards, Terra del Fuego came in sight; and
on the 19th, at 9 o’clock in the morning, we had a full view of Cape
Horn. But adverse winds meeting us here, we were unable to double it
before Christmas morning, and were carried, in the mean time, as far
south as lat. 58° 16′. While in these latitudes, notwithstanding the
foggy state of the weather, we could read common print at all hours of
the night on deck without the aid of artificial light. The sky was {27}
generally overcast, and the weather raw and cold, with frequent showers
of hail and snow, but we saw no ice. Here the snow birds and Cape pigeon
frequently flew in great numbers about the ship. After doubling the
Cape, a speckled red and white fish, about the size of a salmon, was
observed before the ship’s bow, as if leading the way. The sailors gave
it the name of the pilot fish.
With gladdened hearts, we now bent our course northward on the wide
Pacific. On the 19th of January, 1811, all hands passed the ordeal of
inspection, or as the sailors more appropriately called it, the “general
turn-out;” and as none could guess what this new manœuvre portended, we
all judged it to be a relic of man-of-war discipline, which the captain
introduced merely to refresh his memory; but the proceeding must be
described:—After breakfast, all hands were summoned on deck, and there
ordered to remain, while the officers of the ship got up the trunks,
chests, hammocks, dirty shirts, and old shoes belonging to each
individual, on deck. They were then ordered to empty out the contents of
the boxes, examine, and expose the whole to view, each man’s
paraphernalia separately. While this was going on, the bystanders were
ordered to claim any article belonging to them in the possession of
another. This declaration cleared up the matter, and set our judgment
right as to the captain’s motives; but to the credit of all, very little
stolen property was found—being only three articles, namely, a pamphlet,
a clasp-knife, {28} and a spoon, and even as to them the theft was not
very well proved; but the three individuals implicated were nevertheless
condemned, and placed on what is called the “rogue’s mess” for a month.
On the 24th we again crossed the Equator, and entered the northern
hemisphere, and here the pilot fish that joined us at Cape Horn
disappeared. During a run of upwards of 5,000 miles, our little
piscatory pilot was never once known, by day or night, to intermit
preceding the ship’s bow. On the 10th of February, the cloud-capped
summit of the towering Mouna Roa—a pyramidal mountain in Owhyhee, and
the loftiest in the Sandwich Islands—was visible at the distance of 50
miles.
As we drew near to the land, going at the rate of eight knots an hour, a
Canadian lad named Joseph LaPierre fell overboard. This was an awkward
accident, as all eyes were at the time gazing with admiration on the
scenery of the land. In an instant, however, the sails were backed,
boats lowered, and everything at hand thrown overboard to save the
drowning man; but before he could be picked up the ship had distanced
him more than a mile, and when the boatswain reached the ship with the
body, the captain, in his usual sympathizing mood, peremptorily ordered
him about to pick up all the trumpery which had been thrown into the
water. This took a considerable time. The apparently lifeless body was
then hoisted on board, and every means tried to restore animation, and
at last, by rolling the body in warm {29} blankets, and rubbing it with
salt, the lad recovered, after being thirty-eight minutes in the water,
and though unable to swim.
Mr. Fox, who had again fallen under the captain’s displeasure, and who
had been, in consequence, off duty for a week past, was reinstated this
morning. This was no sooner done, however, than the fourth mate, the
captain’s own brother, was put into irons. The young Thorn was as
factious and morose a subject as his brother; with this only difference,
that he had less power to do mischief. He had maltreated one of the
passengers; and the captain, in order to show impartiality, awarded him
the above punishment.
{30} CHAPTER III[11]
Karakakooa Bay—The sailors desert—The captain’s conduct—Productions of
Owhyhee—Tocaigh Bay—Governor Young—Royal proclamation—Woahoo—
Ourourah, the residence of Tammeatameah—Harbour fees—Excursion on
shore—The Queen’s umbrella—The King’s appearance—Royal palace and
guards—Arsenal, or royal workshop—Royal dinner—His Majesty’s fleet—
Morais, or places of public worship—Sacred or puranee ground
tabooed—Storm—A sailor left to his fate among the natives—Parting
visit from his Majesty—His meanness—Diving of the natives—Native
proas: how made—Clothing—Customs and peculiarities—Character of the
women—White men at the Sandwich Islands—The King’s disposition
towards foreigners—Captain Cook—Pahooas, or war spears—A sham fight—
Religion—Tammeatameah conqueror and king—Apparent happiness of the
natives—Prophetic hint—Distressed situation of a boat.
On the 13th of February the ship anchored in Karakakooa Bay, in the
island of Owhyhee, and within a mile of the place where the unfortunate
Captain Cook fell in 1779. The Sandwich Islands are eleven in number,
and lie between the 19th and 22nd parallels of N. latitude, and the
meridians of 151° and 160° W. longitude. The climate is warm but
healthy, and more temperate and uniform than {31} is usual in tropical
countries; nor is it subject to hurricanes and earthquakes. In their
customs and manners the natives resemble the New Zealanders, and like
them are a warlike people: all classes tattoo their bodies.
Karakakooa Bay is about a mile or more in extent, but sheltered only on
one side, which presents a high rugged front of coral rock, resembling a
rampart or battery in the bottom of the bay, facing the ocean, with two
bushy trees on it waving in the wind like flags. The shores, with the
exception of the above-mentioned rock, are everywhere low, with here and
there clumps of cocoa-nut and other trees, which give a pleasing variety
to the scene; and the land, rising gradually as it recedes to a
considerable height, looks down over intervening hill and dale upon the
delightful little villages of Kakooa and Kowrowa.
We were now near land, and the captain’s conduct to both passengers and
crew had fostered a spirit of desertion among the sailors: Jack Tar,
slipping off in the night, was seen no more. This new feature in our
affairs portended no good, but brought about a sweeping change, for the
captain had now no resource but to place his chief confidence in those
whom he had all along maltreated and affected to despise. In this state
of things, the natives were employed to bring back the deserters. One
Roberts, a yankee, was confined below; Ems, a Welshman, was tied up and
flogged; Johnston, an Englishman, {32} was put in irons; and Anderson,
the boatswain, could not be found. Storming and stamping on deck, the
captain called up all hands; he swore, he threatened, and abused the
whole ship’s company, making, if possible, things worse. I really pitied
the poor man, although he had brought all this trouble upon himself:
with all his faults he had some good qualities, and in his present
trying situation we all forgot our wrongs, and cheerfully exerted
ourselves to help him out of his difficulties. The clerks were appointed
to assist the officers, and the Canadians to supply the place of the
sailors in keeping watch and doing the other duties on shore; while the
partners, forgetting former animosities, joined hand in hand with the
captain in providing for the wants of the ship.
Order being now restored, the partners and some of the clerks went
occasionally on shore; meantime, the natives having paid several visits
on board, and sounded our bargain-making chiefs (for they are shrewd
dealers), a brisk trade commenced in plantains, bananas, yams, taro,
bread-fruit, sweet potatoes, sugar-canes, cocoa-nuts, and some pork, the
principal productions of the place. We had not been long here, however,
till we learned that the chief of the island resided at a place called
Tocaigh Bay, some distance off; and as we expected a further and better
supply there, we sailed for that place, where we had an interview with
the governor, a white man, named John Young. He received us kindly, and
with {33} every mark of attention peculiar to an Indian chief; showed us
his wife, his daughter, his household, and vassals—a strange assemblage
of wealth and poverty, filth and plenty.
Governor Young was a native of England, and belonged to an American
ship, the _Eleanor_, of which he was boatswain. That vessel, happening
to touch at the Sandwich Islands in 1790, left Young there to shift for
himself; but his nautical skill and good conduct soon recommended him to
the reigning prince, Tammeatameah, and he is now Viceroy or Governor of
Owhyhee. He is about 60 years of age, shrewd, and healthy; but, from his
long residence among the natives, he has imbibed so much of their habits
and peculiarities, that he is now more Indian than white man.
We had not been long at the village of Tocaigh, when Governor Young gave
us to understand that no rain had fallen in that neighbourhood during
the four preceding years, and that in consequence provisions were very
scarce, and good water was not to be found there at any time. These
details were discouraging. The natives, however, began a brisk trade in
fruits and vegetables; we, however, were desirous of purchasing hogs and
goats, but were told that the sale of pork had been prohibited by royal
proclamation, and that, without the permission of the king, who resided
in the island of Woahoo, no subject could dispose of any. Anxious to
complete our supplies, we immediately resolved on sailing to Woahoo.
{34} On the 21st of February, we cast anchor abreast of Ourourah, the
metropolis of Woahoo, and royal residence of Tammeatameah. This is the
richest and most delightful spot in the whole archipelago. On our
approaching the land, two white officers came on board; the one a
Spaniard, secretary to his majesty; the other a Welshman, the harbour
master: the latter brought us safe to anchor in Whyteete Bay, for which
service he demanded and was paid five Spanish dollars.
The royal village of Ourourah is situate at the foot of a hill, facing
the ocean, on the west side of the island. The houses were 740 in
number, and contained 2025 inhabitants. It will appear strange that so
few inhabitants should require so many houses, but this will be
explained hereafter. Behind the village there is an extensive field
under fine cultivation—perhaps it may measure 500 acres; but its
appearance was greatly injured by irregular enclosures, or rather
division lines, formed of loose stones running on the surface,
intersecting and crossing each other in every possible direction, for
the purpose of marking the plot claimed by each individual or family:
the whole is cultivated with much skill and industry, the soil teemingly
rich, and the labour abundant, with here and there small water-courses
and aqueducts.
Immediately after coming to anchor, Captain Thorn, accompanied by Mr.
M‘Kay and Mr. M‘Dougall, waited on his majesty, Tammeatameah, {35} and
after dining with him, returned on board. In the afternoon his majesty
and three queens returned the visit in state, the royal canoe being
paddled by sixteen chiefs, with the state arm-chest on board. Their
majesties were received with becoming ceremony. The flag was displayed,
and three guns fired. The king was conducted to the cabin followed by
his valet, who held a spitting-box in his hand, but the queens preferred
remaining on deck. While here, they very unceremoniously disrobed
themselves, plunged overboard, and after swimming and sporting for some
time in the water, came on board again and dressed themselves, after
which they joined Tammeatameah in the cabin, where they did ample
justice to a good collation, drank two bottles of wine, and left us
apparently well pleased with their reception. The chiefs remained all
the time in the royal yacht alongside.
Tammeatameah appeared to be about fifty years of age; straight and
portly, but not corpulent; his countenance was pleasing, but his
complexion rather dark, even for an Indian. He had on a common beaver
hat, a shirt, and neckcloth, which had once been white; a long blue coat
with velvet collar, a cassimere vest, corduroy trousers, and a pair of
strong military shoes; he also wore a long and not inelegant sword,
which he said he got from his brother, the king of England.
During these interviews and visits of ceremony, the captain had broached
the subject of pork to {36} his majesty; but this was not the work of an
hour nor of a day; pork was a royal monopoly, and the king well knew how
to turn it to his advantage on the present occasion, for several
conferences were held, and all the _pros_ and _cons_ of a hard bargain
discussed, before the royal contract was concluded. Time however,
brought it about, and the negotiation was finally closed; the king
furnished the requisite supplies of hogs, goats, poultry, and
vegetables, for all of which a stipulated quantity of merchandise was to
be given in return. Business now commenced, and good water and
provisions were brought to the ship in boat-loads; and as the king
further pledged himself, that if any of the sailors deserted he would
answer for their safe delivery again, this assurance, although the words
of kings are not always sacred, had the effect of relieving the
passengers from the ship’s duties; we were, therefore, enabled to go on
shore.
On walking up to the royal city on our first landing, we were met by two
of the queens, accompanied by a page of honour. They were all three
walking abreast, the page in the middle, and holding with his two hands
a splendid parasol of the richest silk, measuring six feet eight inches
in diameter. From this umbrella hung twelve massy tassels, weighing at
least a pound each. The ladies were very communicative, and after
detaining us for nearly half an hour passed on. We were soon afterwards
introduced to his majesty, who honoured us with a glass of arrack. Here
{37} we had a full view of the royal palace, the royal family, and the
life-guards. The palace consisted of thirteen houses, built so as to
form a square. All the buildings of the country are a kind of wicker
work, remarkable for their neatness and regularity; and although
slender, they appear to be strong and durable; nor did there appear any
difference between the royal buildings and the other houses of the
place, the square and courtyard excepted. The king occupied three of
these houses; one for eating, another for sleeping, and the third for
business, which may be called the audience chamber. Each of the queens
occupied three also; a dressing house, a sleeping house, and an eating
house. His majesty never enters any of the queens’ houses, nor do they
ever enter any of his: in this respect, they are always tabooed. There
is a house set apart exclusively for their interviews. The established
custom of the land is that each family, however poor, invariably
occupies three houses; and this will explain why so many houses are
required for so few inhabitants.
We also saw two of the king’s sons; one of them was in disgrace and
tabooed; that is, interdicted from speaking with anybody. We were next
shown the life-guards, consisting of forty men, accoutred in something
of the English style, with muskets, belts, and bayonets; but their
uniform was rather old and shabby. The parade-ground, or place where the
guards were on duty, lay just behind the royal buildings, on a level
square green spot made up for the {38} purpose, and on which were placed
eighteen four or six pounders, all mounted, and apparently in good
order.
From this we proceeded to a long narrow range of buildings, where a
number of artisans were at work, making ship, sloop, and boat tackling,
ropes, blocks, and all the other _et ceteras_ required for his majesty’s
fleet; while others again, in a wing of the same building, were employed
in finishing single and double canoes; the former for pleasure, the
latter for commercial purposes. At the far end of the buildings was
erected a blacksmith’s forge; and beyond that, in a side room, lay the
masts, spars, and rigging of a new schooner. The tools used by the
different workmen were very simple, slender, few, and ill-made, and yet
the work done by them surprised us.
While in the workshops, Mr. M‘Kay took a fancy to a small knot of wood,
about the size of a pint-pot, and asked it of the king. His majesty took
the bit of wood in his hand, and after looking at it for some time
turned round to Mr. M‘Kay and said, “This is a very valuable piece of
wood; it is the finest koeye, and what my Erees make their pipes of; but
if you will give me a new hat for it, you can have it.” Mr. M‘Kay
smiled, adding, “Your majesty shall have it.” So the bargain was struck,
but Mr. M‘Kay fell in love with no more of his majesty’s wood. They make
their own cloth, cordage, salt, sugar, and whisky.
{39} The king then invited us to dine; and entering a small wretched
hovel adjoining the workshop, we all sat down round a dirty little
table, on which was spread some viands, yams, taro, cocoa-nuts, pork,
bread-fruit, and arrack. The king grew very jovial, ate and drank
freely, and pressed us to follow his example. After dinner, he
apologized for the meanness of the place, by saying that his banqueting
house was tabooed that day. Dinner being over, he brought us to see a
large stone building, the only one of the kind on the island, situate at
some distance from the other buildings; but he showed no disposition to
open the door and let us have a peep at the inside. He said it cost him
2,000 dollars. We were told the royal treasure and other valuables were
kept there. Behind the stone building, and near the shore, was lying at
anchor an old ship of about 300 tons, with some guns and men on deck—
said to be the guard-ship. From this position, we saw sixteen vessels of
different sizes, from 10 to 200 tons, all lying in a wretched and
ruinous condition along the beach; some on shore, others afloat, but all
apparently useless. The day being excessively warm, and our curiosity
gratified, we took leave of his majesty, and staid for the night at the
house of a Mr. Brown, an American settler, who had resided on the island
for several years.
After passing an agreeable night, we bade adieu to our hospitable
landlord, and set out to view the morais, or places of public worship.
Of these, Ourourah {40} alone contains fifteen of this description. Each
morai is composed of several miserable-looking little huts, or houses.
Passing by all the inferior ones, we at length reached the king’s morai,
or principal one of the place. It consisted of five low, gloomy, and
pestiferous houses, huddled close together; and alongside of the
principal one stood an image made of wood, resembling a pillar, about 28
feet high, in the shape of the human figure, cut and carved with various
devices; the head large, and the rude sculpture on it presenting the
likeness of a human face, carved on the top with a black cowl. About
thirty yards from the houses, all round about, was a clear spot called
the “king’s tabooed ground,” surrounded by an enclosure. This sacred
spot is often rigorously tabooed and set apart for penance. It was while
walking to and fro on this solitary place that we saw Tatooirah, the
king’s eldest son, who was in disgrace. We were prevented from entering
within the enclosure. At the foot of this pagot, or pillar, were
scattered on the ground several dead animals: we saw four dogs, two
hogs, five cats, and large quantities of vegetables, almost all in a
state of putrefaction, the whole emitting a most offensive smell. On the
death of the king or other great eree, and in times of war, human
sacrifices are frequently offered at the shrine of this moloch. The word
_taboo_ implies interdiction or prohibition from touching the place,
person, or thing tabooed; a violation of which is always severely
punished, and at the king’s morai, with death.
{41} We had scarcely got on board, late in the evening, when a
tremendous gale from the land arose and drove the ship out to sea. The
fury of the tempest and darkness of the night obliged us to cut cable,
and two days were spent in anxious forebodings, ere we got back again
into harbour.
On the 27th, all our supplies, according to contract, were safe on
board; and from the good conduct of the sailors since our arrival, we
began to think matters would go on smoothly for the future; but these
hopes were of short duration—the hasty and choleric disposition of the
captain destroyed our anticipations. Two of the boats had gone on shore
as usual; but on the call for all hands to embark, three of the sailors
were missing. The boats, without waiting a moment, pushed off, but had
reached the ship only fifteen minutes before two of the three men
arrived in an Indian canoe. Notwithstanding the anxiety they manifested,
and their assurance that the boat had not been off five minutes before
they were on the beach, they were both tied up, flogged, and then put in
irons. But this was not all; Emms, the third man, not being able to
procure a canoe, had unfortunately to pass the night on shore, but
arrived the next morning by sunrise. On arriving alongside, the captain,
who was pacing the deck at the time did not wait till he got on board,
but jumping into a boat which lay alongside, laid hold of some
sugar-canes with which the boat was loaded, and bundled the poor fellow,
sprawling and speechless, at {42} his feet; then jumping on deck, kept
pacing to and fro in no very pleasant mood; but on perceiving Emms still
struggling to get up, he leaped into the boat a second time, and called
one of the sailors to follow him. The poor fellow, on seeing the
captain, called out for mercy; but in his wrath the captain forgot
mercy, and laid him again senseless at his feet, then ordered him to be
thrown overboard! Immediately on throwing the man into the sea, Mr. Fox
made signs to some Indians, who dragged him into their canoe and paddled
off to shore. During this scene, no one interfered; for the captain, in
his frantic fits of passion, was capable of going any lengths, and would
rather have destroyed the expedition, the ship, and every one on board,
than be thwarted in what he considered as ship discipline, or his
nautical duties.
In the evening, the Indians brought Emms again to the ship. Here the
little fellow implored forgiveness, and begged to be taken on board; but
the captain was inexorable, and threatened him with instant death if he
attempted to come alongside. Soon after he made his appearance again,
but with no better effect. He then asked for his protection, a paper
which the American sailors generally take with them to sea. The captain
returning no answer to this request, Mr. Fox contrived to throw his
clothes and protection overboard unperceived, at the same time making
signs to the Indians to convey them to Emms. On receiving the little
bundle, he remained {43} for some time without uttering a word; at last,
bursting into tears, he implored again and again to be admitted on
board, but to no purpose. All hopes now vanishing, the heroic little
fellow, standing up in the canoe, took off his cap, and waving it in the
air, with a sorrowful heart bade adieu to his shipmates; the canoe then
paddled to land, and we saw him no more.
Our supplies being now completed, the king came on board before our
departure; and it will appear something surprising that the honest and
wealthy monarch, forgetting the rank and pomp of royalty, should at his
parting visit covet everything he saw with us: he even expressed a wish
to see the contents of our trunks; he begged a handkerchief from me, a
penknife from another, a pair of shoes from a third, a hat from a
fourth, and when refused, talked of his kindness to us on shore; while,
on the other hand, he bowed low when presented with a breastpin, a few
needles, or paper-cased looking-glass, not worth a groat. Even the
cabin-boy and cook were not forgotten by this “King of the Isles,” for
he asked a piece of black-ball from the former, and an old saucepan from
the latter. His avarice and meanness in these respects had no bounds,
and we were all greatly relieved when he bade us farewell and departed.
Having taken leave of his majesty, I shall now make a few remarks on the
habits, dress, and language of the natives.
{44} The Sandwich Islanders are bold swimmers, and expert navigators.
They are like ducks in the water. As soon as we had cast anchor in
Karakakooa Bay the natives, men and women, indiscriminately flocked
about the ship in great numbers: some swimming, others in canoes, but
all naked, although the _Tonquin_ lay a mile from the shore. Few,
however, being admitted on board at once (probably a necessary
precaution), the others waited very contentedly floating on the surface
of the water alongside, amusing themselves now and then by plunging and
playing round the ship. After passing several hours in this way, they
would then make a simultaneous start for the land, diving and plunging,
sporting and playing, like so many seals or fish in a storm all the way.
During their gambols about the ship, we often amused ourselves by
dropping a button, nail, or pin into the water; but such was their
keenness of sight and their agility, that the trifle had scarcely
penetrated the surface of the water before it was in their possession;
nothing could escape them. On one occasion a ship’s block happening to
fall overboard, one of the natives was asked to dive for it in
thirty-six feet of water; but after remaining three minutes and fifty
seconds under water he came up unsuccessful; another tried it and
succeeded, after being under water four minutes and twelve seconds: the
blood, however, burst from his nose and ears immediately after.
Their voyaging canoes are made to ride on the {45} roughest water with
safety by means of a balance or outrigger shaped like a boat’s keel, and
attached to the canoe at the distance of five feet by two slender beams.
The canoe goes fully as well with as without the balance, skipping on
the surface of the water as if no such appendage accompanied it. When
the swell or surge strikes the canoe on the balance side, the weight of
the outrigger prevents its upsetting, and when on the opposite side the
buoyancy of the outrigger, now sunk in the water, has the same effect.
The climate here is so very mild and warm that the natives seldom wear
any clothing, and when they do, it is of their own manufacture, and
extremely simple. The inner bark of different trees (the touta in
particular) is prepared by beating it into a pulp or soft thin web, not
unlike grey paper, called tappa. The common people wear it in this raw
state, but the better sort paint it with various colours, resembling
printed cotton. Tappa is as strong as cartridge paper, but not so thick,
and can answer for clothing only in dry climates. The common dress of
the men consists of a piece of this tappa, about ten inches broad and
nine feet long, like a belt, called maro. The maro is thrown carelessly
round the loins, then passed between the thighs, and tied on the left
side. The females wear the pow or pau, a piece of tappa similar to the
maro, only a little broader, and worn in the same manner; but the queens
had on, in addition to the pow, a loose mantle or shawl thrown round
{46} the body, called kihei, which consisted of twenty-one folds of
tappa; yet when compressed it did not equal in thickness an English
blanket. The kihei is generally worn by persons of distinction, but
seldom of more than two or three folds, excepting among the higher
ranks. Like a Chinese mandarin, a lady here makes known her rank by her
dress, and by the number of folds in her kihei.
A custom prevalent here, and which is, I believe, peculiar to these
islanders, is, that the women always eat apart from the men, and are
forbidden the use of pork. The favourite dish among all classes is raw
fish, mashed or pounded in a mortar. Considering their rude and savage
life, these people are very cleanly. The houses of all classes are lined
and decorated with painted tappa, and the floors overspread with
variegated mats. The women are handsome in person, engaging in their
manners, well featured, and have countenances full of joy and
tranquility; but chastity is not their virtue.
The king’s will is the paramount law of the land, but he is represented
as a mild and generous sovereign, invariably friendly to the whites whom
choice or accident has thrown on these islands. To those who behave well
the king allots land, and gives them slaves to work it. He protects both
them and their property, and is loth ever to punish an evildoer. Near
Ourourah we saw eight or ten white men comfortably settled; and upwards
of thirty {47} others naked and wild among the natives, wretched
unprincipled vagabonds, of almost every nation in Europe, without
clothing and without either house or home.
I have already noticed the principal esculent vegetables growing here;
there are also some beautiful kinds of wood; that called koeye, of which
the war spears or pahooas are made, and sandalwood, are the kinds most
highly esteemed among the natives for their hardness and polish. The
cocoa-nut, in clumps here and there, forms delightful groves, and these
are often frequented by the industrious females for the purpose of
manufacturing and painting their tappa—preferring the cool shade and
open air to the heat of a dwelling-house.
At the place where Captain Cook was killed, which we visited soon after
our arrival, were still a few old and shattered cocoa-nut trees, pierced
with the shot from his ships; and a flat coral rock; at the water’s
edge, is still pointed out to strangers as the fatal spot where he fell.
The chief weapon used in their warfare is the pahooa or spear, 12 feet
long, polished, barbed, and painted. It is poised and thrown with the
right hand with incredible force and precision. His majesty ordered
fifty men to parade one day, and invited us to see them exercising, and
we were certainly much gratified and astonished at their skill in
throwing and parrying the weapons.
{48} After going through several manœuvres, the king picked four of the
best marksmen out, and ordered one of them to stand at a certain point;
the three others at a distance of sixty yards from him, all armed with
pahooas, and facing one another. The three last mentioned were to dart
their spears at the single man, and he to parry them off or catch them
in passing. Each of the three had twelve pahooas; the single man but
one. Immediately after taking his position the single man put himself
upon his guard, by skipping and leaping from right to left with the
quickness of lightning: the others, equally on the alert, prepared to
throw. All eyes were now anxiously intent; presently one threw his
spear, at a short interval the next followed; as did the third—two at a
time next threw, and then all three let fly at once, and continued to
throw without intermission until the whole thirty-six spears were spent,
which was done in less than three minutes. The single man, who was
placed like a target to be shot at, defended himself nobly with the
spear he had in his hand, and sent those of his opponents whistling in
every direction, for he had either to parry them off like a skilful
boxer, or be run through on the spot; but such was the agility with
which he shifted from one position to another, and managed the spear
with his right hand, that he seemed rather to be playing and amusing
himself than seriously engaged, for twice or thrice he dexterously
seized his opponent’s spear at {49} the moment it came in contact with
his own, allowing at the same time the latter to fly off, and this
shifting or exchanging spears is thought a masterpiece, being the most
difficult and dangerous manœuvre in the whole affair, and it is only an
adept that can attempt it with safety. When all was over, the man had
received a slight wound on the left arm; but it happens not unfrequently
that he who is thus placed is killed on the spot; for if he allows the
spear to be knocked out of his hand without catching another, he is
almost sure to fall, as the throwers are not allowed to stop while a
pahooa remains with them, and every weapon is hurled with a deadly
intention.
The king is said to be a dexterous pahooa man himself, and it was his
prowess and knowledge in war, and not his rank, that made him sovereign
of these islands. After the people had dispersed, the man who had acted
so conspicuous a part in the exhibition just described, came to us and
offered to risk his life for a handkerchief, at the distance of twenty
yards; telling us to select the best marksman among us, with a
fowlingpiece either with shot or ball, and he would stand before him,
and either win the handkerchief or lose his life! We were not disposed,
however, to accept the challenge, but gave the fellow a handkerchief and
sent him about his business.
All the islands of this group, excepting one, have {50} acknowledged
Tammeatameah as their king, and the jarring interests and feuds of the
different islands have at last sunk into a system of union which, if we
may judge from appearance, renders this country, under its present
government, an earthly paradise, and the inhabitants thereof as free
from care, and perhaps as happy, as any in the globe;—but mark!
civilized man has now begun to trade on its innocent and peaceful soil:
there is an end, therefore, to all primeval simplicity and happiness.
These people speak with a quickness which almost baffles imitation; and
in very many instances, the same word is repeated twice. The language is
bold and masculine; and, although the accent be clear, is very difficult
to be attained by the whites.
We shall now take our leave of the friendly and hospitable natives of
these islands. On his majesty leaving the ship, a boat was sent to shore
for a few remaining articles; meantime, preparations were made for
weighing anchor. The wind from the sea beginning to blow retarded the
boat’s return; and the delay so nettled our worthy commander, that he
gave orders to set sail, and the ship stood out to sea, leaving the boat
to follow as she could. The wind soon increasing to a gale, the boat had
to struggle with a tempestuous sea for six hours, during which time we
expected every minute to witness her destruction. The Falkland Island
affair was yet fresh in our {51} minds, and this seemed to equal, if not
surpass it in cruelty. At length, however, the ship bore down, and with
much difficulty rescued the boat’s crew from a watery grave.
{52} CHAPTER IV[12]
Departure from the Sandwich Islands—Bad weather—Live stock destroyed—
Columbia River—A boat and crew lost—Captain’s conduct towards Mr.
Fox—Mouth of the river—Bar and breakers—Cape Disappointment—Point
Adams—Narrow escape of the long boat—Sounding the bar—A boat and
crew left to perish—The ship in the breakers—Critical situation—
Melancholy narrative of Steven Weeks—Search made for the lost boat,
and narrow escape—Long boat swamped—Fidelity of the natives—
Preparations for leaving the ship—Captain Thorn—The voyage
concluded.
On the 1st of March, 1811, we took our departure from the Sandwich
Islands; steering direct for Columbia River. The first step taken, after
leaving the land, was to liberate those who had been put in irons. Poor
fellows! they considered themselves particularly unfortunate, and doubly
punished, in not having been partakers of the pleasures which the others
had enjoyed on shore. All our thoughts now tended to one point; and the
hope of soon terminating a long and irksome voyage made us forget all
former misunderstandings, and a few days passed in harmony and
good-fellowship, until the 12th, when the weather becoming squally and
cold, with snow {53} and sleet, the partners wished to serve out some
articles of clothing to the passengers, who now began to feel very
sensibly the change of climate; but the captain considered the broaching
of a bale or box as an encroachment on his authority, and a violation of
ship rules, and therefore steadily opposed it. This gave rise to bad
blood on both sides. The partners swore they would have such articles as
they wanted; the captain swore they should touch nothing. The dispute
went to such a height that pistols were resorted to, and all, from stem
to stern, seemed for a moment involved in the flame of civil war; but on
this, as on a former occasion, Mr. David Stuart and some others
interfering brought about a reconciliation. The partners desisted; the
captain kept his bales and boxes untouched; and the men froze in the icy
rigging of the ship until many of them were obliged to take to their
hammocks.
On the 14th, in lat. 37° N. and long. 137° W., a violent gale came on,
which increased almost to a hurricane, and lasted four days without
intermission, during which we were much puzzled in manœuvring the ship.
She had sprung a leak, but not seriously. Sometimes we had to let her
scud before the wind; sometimes she lay-to; sometimes under one sail,
sometimes under another, labouring greatly; and much anxiety was felt by
all on board. During this storm, almost everything on deck was carried
off or dashed to pieces; all our live stock were either killed or washed
overboard; and so bad was the weather, {54} first with rain, and then
with sleet, hail, frost, and snow which froze on the rigging as it fell,
that there was no bending either ropes or sails, and the poor sailors
were harassed to death. But bad and harassing as this state of things
was, it proved to be only the beginning of our troubles, and a prelude
to far greater trials. During this gale, we sustained considerable
damage in the sails and rigging, besides the loss of our live stock, and
other things on board.
On the 22nd of March, we came in sight of land, which, on a nearer
approach, proved to be Cape Disappointment, a promontory forming the
north side of the Great Oregon or Columbia River. The sight filled every
heart with gladness. But the cloudy and stormy state of the weather
prevented us seeing clearly the mouth of the river; being then about ten
miles from land. The aspect of the coast was wild and dangerous, and for
some time the ship lay-to, until the captain could satisfy himself that
it was the entrance of the river; which he had no sooner done, than Mr.
Fox, the first mate, was ordered to go and examine the channel on the
bar. At half-past one o’clock in the afternoon, Mr. Fox left the ship,
having with him one sailor, a very old Frenchman, and three Canadian
lads, unacquainted with sea service—two of them being carters from La
Chine, and the other a Montreal barber. Mr. Fox objected to such hands;
but the captain refused to change them, adding that he had none else to
spare. Mr. Fox then represented the impossibility of performing the
business {55} in such weather, and on such a rough sea, even with the
best seamen, adding, that the waves were too high for any boat to live
in. The captain, turning sharply round, said—“Mr. Fox, if you are afraid
of water, you should have remained at Boston.” On this Mr. Fox
immediately ordered the boat to be lowered, and the men to embark. If
the crew was bad, the boat was still worse—being scarcely seaworthy, and
very small. While this was going on, the partners, who were all partial
to Mr. Fox, began to sympathize with him, and to intercede with the
captain to defer examining the bar till a favourable change took place
in the weather. But he was deaf to entreaties, stamped, and swore that a
combination was formed to frustrate all his designs. The partners’
interference, therefore, only riveted him the more in his determination,
and Mr. Fox was peremptorily ordered to proceed. He, seeing that the
captain was immoveable, turned to the partners with tears in his eyes
and said—“My uncle was drowned here not many years ago, and now I am
going to lay my bones with his.” He then shook hands with all around
him, and bade them adieu. Stepping into the boat—“Farewell, my friends!”
said he; “we will perhaps meet again in the next world.” And the words
were prophetic.
The moment the boat pushed off, all hands crowded in silence to take a
last farewell of her. The weather was boisterous, and the sea rough, so
that we often lost sight of the boat before she got 100 yards from {56}
the ship; nor had she gone that far before she became utterly
unmanageable, sometimes broaching broadside to the foaming surges, and
at other times almost whirling round like a top, then tossing on the
crest of a huge wave would sink again for a time and disappear
altogether. At last she hoisted the flag; the meaning could not be
mistaken; we knew it was a signal of distress. At this instant all the
people crowded round the captain, and implored him to try and save the
boat; but in an angry tone he ordered about ship, and we saw the
ill-fated boat no more.
Mr. Fox was not only an able officer, but an experienced seaman, and a
great favourite among all classes on board; and this circumstance, I
fear, proved his ruin, for his uniform kindness and affability to the
passengers had from the commencement of the voyage drawn down upon his
head the ill-will of his captain; and his being sent off on the present
perilous and forlorn undertaking, with such awkward and inexperienced
hands, whose language he did not understand, is a proof of that
ill-will.
The mouth of Columbia River is remarkable for its sand-bars and high
surf at all seasons, but more particularly in the spring and fall,
during the equinoctial gales: these sand-bars frequently shift, the
channel of course shifting along with them, which renders the passage at
all times extremely dangerous. The bar, or rather the chain of sand
banks, over which the huge waves and foaming breakers {57} roll so
awfully, is a league broad, and extends in a white foaming sheet for
many miles, both south and north of the mouth of the river, forming as
it were an impracticable barrier to the entrance, and threatening with
instant destruction everything that comes near it.
The river at its mouth is 4½ miles broad, confined by Cape
Disappointment on the north, and Point Adams on the south; the former is
a rocky cliff or promontory, rising about 500 feet above the level of
the water, and covered on the top with a few scattered trees of stinted
growth; the latter a low sandy point, jutting out about 300 yards into
the river, directly opposite to Cape Disappointment: the deepest water
is near the Cape, but the channel is both narrow and intricate. The
country is low, and the impervious forests give to the surrounding coast
a wild and gloomy aspect.
After the captain ordered about ship, as already stated, some angry
words passed between himself and Mr. Mumford, the second officer, which
ended in the latter being ordered below. After passing an anxious night,
the return of day only increased the anxiety, and every mind was filled
with gloomy apprehensions. In the course of this day, Mr. Mumford
resumed his duties, and the ship kept beating off and on till noon, when
she cast anchor in fourteen fathoms, about a mile from the breakers; and
the weather becoming calm, Mr. M‘Kay, Mr. David Stuart, myself, and
several others, embarking in the {58} long boat, which was well manned
and armed, stood in for the shore, in hopes of being able to effect a
landing. On approaching the bar, the terrific chain of breakers, which
kept rolling one after another in awful succession, completely
overpowered us with dread; and the fearful suction or current became so
irresistibly great, that, before we were aware of it, the boat was drawn
into them, and became unmanageable: at this instant, Mr. Mumford, who
was at the helm, called out, “Let us turn back, and pull for your lives;
pull hard, or you are all dead men”. In turning round, the boat broached
broadside to the surf, and was for some time in imminent danger of being
engulfed or dashed to pieces; and, although every effort was made, we
were for twelve minutes struggling in this perilous situation, between
hope and despair, before we got clear, or the boat obeyed the oars, and
yet we were still two miles from the shore; and, had it not been for the
prompt and determined step taken by Mr. Mumford, the boat and every soul
on board of it must have inevitably perished. Notwithstanding our narrow
escape, we made a second and third attempt, but without success, and
then returned to the ship. The same afternoon, Mr. Mumford was sent more
to the south to seek for a channel, but to no purpose. The charts were
again examined, and every preparation made for next morning.
On the 25th, early in the morning, Mr. Mumford was again ordered in
another direction to go and discover {59} if possible the proper
channel, and ascertain the depth of water. After several trials, in one
or two of which the boat got again entangled in the breakers, and had a
very narrow escape, she at length came into 2½ fathoms of water, and
then returned; but the captain seemed to hint that Mr. Mumford had not
done so much as he might have done, or in other words, he was
dissatisfied; indeed, his mind was not in a state to be satisfied with
anything, not even with himself; but his officers, whatever they did,
were sure to displease.
The captain now called on Mr. Aikens, the third mate, and ordered him to
go and sound in a more northerly direction, and if he found 3½ fathoms
water to hoist a flag as a signal. At three o’clock in the afternoon,
Mr. Aikens, together with the sailmaker, armourer, and two Sandwich
Islanders, embarked in the pinnace, and proceeded to the bar. As soon as
the pinnace hoisted the flag agreed upon, the ship weighed anchor and
stood in for the channel; at the same time the boat, pulling back from
the bar, met the ship about half a mile from the breakers, in eight
fathoms, going in with a gentle seabreeze, at the rate of three knots an
hour.
As the ship and boat drew near to each other, the latter steered a
little aside to be out of the ship’s way, then lay upon her oars in
smooth water, waiting to be taken on board, while the ship passed on
within twenty yards of them in silence; nor did the people in the boat
speak a single word. As soon as the {60} ship had passed, and no motion
made to take the boat on board, every one appeared thunderstruck, and
Mr. M‘Kay was the first that spoke,—“Who,” said he, “is going to throw a
rope to the boat?” No one answered; but by this time she had fallen
astern, and began to pull after the ship. Every one now called out, “The
boat, the boat!” The partners, in astonishment, entreated the captain to
take the boat on board, but he coolly replied, “I can give them no
assistance.” Mr. Mumford said it would not be the work of a minute.
“Back a sail, throw a rope overboard,” cried the partners; the answer
was, “No, I will not endanger the ship.” We now felt convinced that the
boat and crew were devoted to destruction—no advice was given them, no
assistance offered, no reasons assigned for risking so cruel a sacrifice
of human life—for the place where the boat met us was entirely free from
the influence of the breakers, and a long way from the bar. It is
impossible, therefore, to account for the cool indifference manifested
towards the fated boat and her crew, unless we suppose that the mind of
the captain was so absorbed in apprehension, and perplexed with anxiety
at the danger which stared him in the face, and which he was about to
encounter in a few minutes, that he could not be brought to give a
thought to anything else but the safety of the ship.
During this time the ship was drawing nearer and nearer to the breakers,
which called our attention {61} from the boat to look out for our own
safety; but she was seen for some time struggling hard to follow the
ship as we entered the breakers, the sight of which was appalling. On
the ship making the first plunge, every countenance looked dismay; and
the sun, at the time just sinking below the horizon, seemed to say,
“Prepare for your last.” Mr. Mumford was now ordered to the masthead, to
point out the channel. The water decreasing from 8 to 2½ fathoms, she
struck tremendously on the second reef or shoal; and the surges breaking
over her stern overwhelmed everything on deck. Every one who could,
sprang aloft, and clung for life to the rigging. The waves at times
broke ten feet high over her, and at other times she was in danger of
foundering: she struck again and again, and, regardless of her helm, was
tossed and whirled in every direction, and became completely
unmanageable. Night now began to spread an impenetrable gloom over the
turbulent deep. Dark, indeed, was that dreadful night. We had got about
a mile into the breakers, and not far from the rocks at the foot of the
cape, against which the foaming surges wreaked their fury unceasingly.
Our anxiety was still further increased by the wind dying away, and the
tide still ebbing. At this instant, some one called out, “We are all
lost, the ship is among the rocks.” A desperate effort was then made to
let go the anchors—two were thrown overboard; the sails kept flapping
for some time: nor was the danger diminished by learning the fact {62}
that the surf dragged ship, anchors, and all, along with it. But there
is a limit to all things: hour after hour had passed, and terrific was
the sight; yet our faithful bark still defied the elements, until the
tide providentially beginning to flow—just at a time when it appeared as
if no earthly power could save us from a watery grave—brought about our
deliverance by carrying the ship along with it into Baker’s Bay, snug
within the Cape, where we lay in safety.
Here are two points for consideration; first, the time of sounding: and,
secondly, the time chosen for entering the breakers. In respect to both,
there was an unwarrantable precipitation—a manifest want of sound
judgment. We made the land in the middle of a storm, the channel and
coast both unknown to us, and without either pilot or guide: under such
circumstances, it was evident to all that no boat could live on the
water at the time, far less reach the shore; and our entering the
breakers at so late an hour, the sun at the time not being fifty minutes
above the horizon, the channel also being unexplored, was certainly a
premature and forlorn undertaking: but there existed such disunion—such
a spirit of contradiction on board—that the only wonder is how we ever
got so far. But I must now inform the reader what became of the boat.
In the morning of the 26th, Captain Thorn, Mr. M‘Kay, myself, and a few
men, left the ship, to take a view of the coast from the top of Cape
Disappointment, to try if we could learn any tidings of the {63} boats.
We had not proceeded fifty yards, when we saw Steven Weeks, the
armourer, standing under the shelter of a rock, shivering and half-dead
with cold. Joy for a moment filled our hearts, and running up to the
poor fellow, we inquired for his comrades, but could get no satisfactory
reply; we then brought him to the ship, and, after giving him some food,
resumed our inquiries; but he appeared so overpowered with grief and
vexation, that we could scarcely get a word from him; in short, he
seemed to reproach us bitterly. “You did it purposely,” said he, in
great agitation; but after some time, and when we had first told him
what we had suffered, he seemed to come round, as if his feelings were
soothed by the recital of our dangers; and then he related his
melancholy tale, in the following words:—
“After the ship passed us we pulled hard to follow her, thinking every
moment you would take us on board; but when we saw her enter the
breakers we considered ourselves as lost. We tried to pull back again,
but in vain; for we were drawn into the breakers in spite of all we
could do. We saw the ship make two or three heavy plunges; but just at
this time we ourselves were struck with the boiling surf, and the boat
went reeling in every direction; in an instant a heavy sea swamped her—
poor Mr. Aikens and John Coles were never seen after. As soon as I got
above the surface of the water, I kept tossing about at the mercy of the
waves. While in this state I saw the two Sandwich Islanders struggling
{64} through the surf to get hold of the boat, and being expert swimmers
they succeeded. After long struggles they got her turned upon her keel,
bailed out some of the water, and recovered one of the oars. I made
several attempts to get near them, but the weight of my clothes and the
rough sea had almost exhausted me. I could scarcely keep myself above
water, and the Owhyhees were so much occupied about the boat, that they
seemed to take no notice of anything else. In vain I tried to make
signs, and to call out; every effort only sank me more and more. The
tide had drawn the boat by this time out to sea, and almost free of the
breakers, when the two islanders saw me, now supporting myself by a
floating oar, and made for me. The poor fellows tried to haul me into
the boat, but their strength failed them. At last, taking hold of my
clothes in their teeth, they fortunately succeeded. We then stood out to
sea as night set in, and a darker one I never saw. The Owhyhees,
overcome with wet and cold, began to lose hope, and their fortitude
forsook them, so that they lay down despairingly in the boat, nor could
I arouse them from their drowsy stupor. When I saw that I had nothing to
expect from them, I set to sculling the boat myself, and yet it was with
much ado I could stand on my legs. During the night one of the Indians
died in despair, and the other seemed to court death, for he lost all
heart, and would not utter a single word. When the tide began to flow I
was roused by the sense {65} of my danger, for the sound of the breakers
grew louder and louder, and I knew if I got entangled in them in my
exhausted state all was lost; I, therefore, set to with might and main,
as a last effort, to keep the boat out to sea, and at daylight I was
within a quarter of a mile of the breakers, and about double that
distance short of the Cape. I paused for a moment, ‘What is to be done?’
I said to myself; ‘death itself is preferable to this protracted
struggle.’ So, turning the head of my boat for shore, I determined to
reach the land or die in the attempt. Providence favoured my resolution,
the breakers seemed to aid in hurrying me out of the watery element; and
the sun had scarcely risen when the boat was thrown up high and dry on
the beach. I had much ado to extricate myself from her, and to drag my
benumbed limbs along. On seeing myself once more on dry land, I sat down
and felt a momentary relief; but this was followed by gloomy
reflections. I then got into the boat again, and seeing the poor
islander still alive, but insensible, I hauled him out of the boat, and
with much ado carried him to the border of the wood, when covering him
with leaves I left him to die. While gathering the leaves I happened to
come upon a beaten path, which brought me here.” Such was Weeks’s
melancholy story: himself and the Indian being the only survivors of the
last boat, it follows that eight men in all lost their lives in entering
this fatal river.
{66} In the evening the Sandwich Islander who died in the boat was
interred on the beach where the boat came ashore; the other poor fellow
was carried to the ship, and afterwards recovered.
On the 27th I was appointed to head a party to go in search of the boat
that was lost on the 22nd; but after examining the coast for upwards of
forty miles southwards, not a trace of our missing friends was
discovered, nor did we ever learn any tidings of them.
We had on this occasion a specimen of Chinooke navigation. While
crossing the river in an Indian canoe, on our way back to the ship, we
were suddenly overtaken by a storm, and our craft was upset in the
middle of the passage. The expertness of the natives in their favourite
element was here put to the test. At this time we were upwards of two
miles from the shore, while eight persons unable to swim were floating
in every direction; coats, hats, and everything else adrift, and all
depending on the fidelity of the four Indians who undertook to carry us
over; yet, notwithstanding the roughness of the water, and the wind
blowing a gale at the time, these poor fellows kept swimming about like
so many fishes, righted the canoe, and got us all into her again, while
they themselves staid in the water, with one hand on the canoe and the
other paddling. In this manner they supported themselves, tossing to and
fro, till we bailed the water out of our frail craft, and got under
weigh again. Here it was that {67} the Indians showed the skill and
dexterity peculiar to them. The instant the canoe rose on the top of a
wave, those on the windward side darted down their long paddles to the
armpits in the water to prevent her from upsetting; while those on the
leeside at the same moment pulled theirs up, but kept ready as soon as
the wave had passed under her to thrust them down again in a similar
manner, and thus by their alternate movements they kept the canoe
steady, so that we got safe to shore without another upset, and with the
loss of only a few articles of clothing; but we suffered severely from
wet and cold.
During this time the Indians from the village which we had left, seeing
our critical situation, had manned and sent off two canoes to our
assistance. One of the boats from the ship was also despatched for the
same purpose; but all would have proved too late had we not been
fortunate enough of ourselves to weather the storm.
The Indians all the time never lost their presence of mind. Indeed, it
was supposed, from the skilful manner in which they acted afterwards,
that the sordid rascals had upset us wilfully, in order to claim the
merit of having saved us, and therewith a double recompense for their
trip. The boat which had put off to our assistance was upset on her
return to the ship; and had it not been for the two Indian canoes that
followed us, its crew would have all perished.
{68} On the 4th of April the long boat was swamped off Chinooke Point,
when ten persons were saved by Comecomly and his people. On this
occasion, however, many articles of value were lost, so that every hour
admonished us that we stepped on insecure and slippery ground. Every
succeeding day was marked by some new and alarming disaster; but a few
remarks will now suffice to conclude the account of our voyage, in which
we sailed, according to the ship’s log, 21,852 miles.
Captain Thorn was an able and expert seaman; but, unfortunately, his
treatment of the people under his command was strongly tinctured with
cruelty and despotism. He delighted in ruling with a rod of iron; his
officers were treated with harshness, his sailors with cruelty, and
every one else was regarded by him with contempt. With a jealous and
peevish temper, he was easily excited; and the moment he heard the
Scotch Highlanders speak to each other in the Scottish dialect, or the
Canadians in the French language, he was on his high horse, making every
one on board as unhappy as himself; and this brings us down to the
period of our departure from the ship, a period to which we all
anxiously looked forward, and the satisfaction both felt and expressed
was universal, when the general order was read that all the passengers
should prepare to land on the following day.
{69} CHAPTER V[13]
Preparations for landing—Site of the new emporium of the west—Astor’s
representative—Hard work—Huge trees—Natives—Comecomly—Mode of
felling trees—Danger—Trying scenes—Three men killed—Three wounded—
Party reduced by sickness—Disaffection—Conduct of the deputy—
Desertion—Mr. Astor’s policy—Climate—Indian rumours—Comecomly’s
intrigues and policy—Trip to the cascades—Mr. M‘Kay and north-west
notions—Anecdote—Exploring party to the north—Several persons
killed—Hostile threats of the Indians—Potatoes and other seeds
planted—New building—Astoria—Departure of the ship—Dangerous
situation of the whites—Great assemblage of Indians—People under
arms—Blunderbuss accident—Alarming moment—Two strangers arrive—Mr.
Thompson at Astoria—M‘Dougall’s policy—The two great functionaries.
For some days, much time was spent in examining both sides of the inlet,
with a view of choosing a suitable place to build on. At last it was
settled that the new establishment should be erected on the south side,
on a small rising ground situate between Point George on the west and
Tonquin Point on the east, distant twelve miles from the mouth of the
inlet or bar.
{70} On the 12th of April, therefore, the whole party, consisting of
thirty-three persons, all British subjects excepting three (eleven
Sandwich Islanders being included in that number), left the ship and
encamped on shore.
However pleasing the change, to be relieved from a long and tedious
voyage, and from the tyranny of a sullen despotic captain, the day was
not one of pleasure, but of labour. The misfortunes we had met with in
crossing the fatal bar had deadened all sensibility, and cast a
melancholy gloom over our most sanguine expectations. In our present
position, everything harmonized with our feelings, to darken our future
prospects. Silent and with heavy hearts we began the toil of the day, in
clearing away brush and rotten wood for a spot to encamp on.
The person who now assumed the command was the deputy-agent, Duncan
M‘Dougall, Esq., an old north-western, who, in the absence of Mr. Hunt,
held the first place in Mr. Astor’s confidence. He was a man of but
ordinary capacity, with an irritable, peevish temper; the most unfit man
in the world to head an expedition or command men.
From the site of the establishment, the eye could wander over a varied
and interesting scene. The extensive Sound, with its rocky shores, lay
in front; the breakers on the bar, rolling in wild confusion, closed the
view on the west; on the east, the country as far as the Sound had a
wild and varied aspect; while towards the south, the impervious and
magnificent {71} forest darkened the landscape, as far as the eye could
reach. The place thus selected for the emporium of the west, might
challenge the whole continent to produce a spot of equal extent
presenting more difficulties to the settler: studded with gigantic trees
of almost incredible size, many of them measuring fifty feet in girth,
and so close together, and intermingled with huge rocks, as to make it a
work of no ordinary labour to level and clear the ground. With this task
before us, every man, from the highest to the lowest, was armed with an
axe in one hand and a gun in the other; the former for attacking the
woods, the latter for defence against the savage hordes which were
constantly prowling about. In the garb of labourers, and in the sweat of
our brow, we now commenced earning our bread. In this manner we all kept
toiling and tearing away, from sunrise till sunset—from Monday till
Saturday; and during the nights we kept watch without intermission.
On our first arrival, the natives of the place appeared very friendly
towards us, owing no doubt to some trifling presents which they now and
then received from us; but still, circumstances occurred occasionally
which indicated treachery, and kept us always on our guard, against the
more distant tribes in particular, for their attitude was invariably shy
and hostile. Our ill opinion of them proved but too true in the sequel;
but we had all along received every assurance of fidelity and protection
from Comecomly, {72} the principal chief of the place, and in him we
reposed much confidence.
The frame of a coasting vessel, to be named the _Dolly_, was brought out
on board the _Tonquin_, and as soon as we had got a spot cleared, the
carpenters were set to work, to fit her up for immediate service; but
the smallness of her size, of only thirty tons, rendered her useless for
any purpose but that of navigating the river.
It would have made a cynic smile to see this pioneer corps, composed of
traders, shopkeepers, voyageurs, and Owhyhees, all ignorant alike in
this new walk of life, and the most ignorant of all, the leader. Many of
the party had never handled an axe before, and but few of them knew how
to use a gun, but necessity, the mother of invention, soon taught us
both. After placing our guns in some secure place at hand, and viewing
the height and the breadth of the tree to be cut down, the party, with
some labour, would erect a scaffold round it; this done, four men—for
that was the number appointed to each of those huge trees—would then
mount the scaffold, and commence cutting, at the height of eight or ten
feet from the ground, the handles of our axes varying, according to
circumstances, from two and a half to five feet in length. At every
other stroke, a look was cast round, to see that all was safe; but the
least rustling among the bushes caused a general stop; more or less time
was thus lost in anxious suspense. After {73} listening and looking
round, the party resumed their labour, cutting and looking about
alternately. In this manner the day would be spent, and often to little
purpose: as night often set in before the tree begun with in the morning
was half cut down. Indeed, it sometimes required two days, or more, to
fell one tree; but when nearly cut through, it would be viewed fifty
different times, and from as many different positions, to ascertain
where it was likely to fall, and to warn parties of the danger.
There is an art in felling a tree, as well as in planting one; but
unfortunately none of us had learned that art, and hours together would
be spent in conjectures and discussions: one calling out that it would
fall here; another, there; in short, there were as many opinions as
there were individuals about it; and, at last, when all hands were
assembled to witness the fall, how often were we disappointed! the tree
would still stand erect, bidding defiance to our efforts, while every
now and then some of the most impatient or fool-hardy would venture to
jump on the scaffold and give a blow or two more. Much time was often
spent in this desultory manner, before the mighty tree gave way; but it
seldom came to the ground. So thick was the forest, and so close the
trees together, that in its fall it would often rest its ponderous top
on some other friendly tree; sometimes a number of them would hang
together, keeping us in awful suspense, and giving us double labour to
extricate the one from the other, and when {74} we had so far succeeded,
the removal of the monster stump was the work of days. The tearing up of
the roots was equally arduous, although less dangerous: and when this
last operation was got through, both tree and stump had to be blown to
pieces by gunpowder before either could be removed from the spot.
Nearly two months of this laborious and incessant toil had passed, and
we had scarcely yet an acre of ground cleared. In the mean time three of
our men were killed by the natives, two more wounded by the falling of
trees, and one had his hand blown off by gunpowder.
But the labour, however trying, we were prepared to undergo. It was
against neglect and ill-treatment that our feelings revolted. The people
suffered greatly from the humidity of the climate. The Sandwich
Islanders, used to a dry, pure atmosphere, sank under its influence;
damp fogs and sleet were frequent, and every other day was a day of
rain. Such is the climate of Columbia at this season of the year, and
all this time we were without tents or shelter; add to this the bad
quality of our food, consisting solely of boiled fish and wild roots,
without even salt, and we had to depend at all times on the success or
good-will of the natives for our daily supply, which was far from being
regular; so that one-half of the party, on an average, were constantly
on the sick list; and on more than one occasion I have seen the whole
party so reduced that scarcely {75} one could help the other, and all
this chiefly owing to the conduct of Mr. Astor; first, in not sending
out a medical man with the party; and, secondly, in his choice of the
great pasha, M‘Dougall, whom he placed at the head of his affairs. The
sick and the sound both fared alike; the necessities of both were
overlooked, while he, himself, was served in state; for a good many
articles of provision had been put on shore before the ship sailed.
Our hard labour by day, with the watching during night, had not only
reduced our party by sickness to a mere nothing, but raised a spirit of
discontent, and plots and plans were set on foot to abandon all, and
cross the continent by land. This extravagant resolution was, however,
overruled by the more moderate of the malcontents, yet it resulted in a
party waiting on M‘Dougall with the view of bettering the existing state
of things, and opening his eyes to his own situation; but this produced
no good effect; it rather augmented the evil: and a second deputation
proved equally unsuccessful. At last four men deserted, and had
proceeded eighty miles up the river when they were laid hold of by the
Indians and kept in a tent; nor would the stern and crafty chief of the
tribe deliver them up until he had received a ransom for them.
Yet all this could not open the eyes of M‘Dougall, nor was it till he
had rashly ventured to provoke all classes, that he began to see clearly
that he was standing on the verge of a precipice. Everything at {76}
this moment seemed at a stand; the folly and imprudence of the man in
power had nearly extinguished all hopes of success. Another party of six
men, headed by one of the Americans, deserted, but were brought back the
third day by our friendly chief, Comecomly. We had some time ago found
out that the sordid hope of gain alone attached this old and crafty
chief to the whites.
The desertion of these parties, and the number confined by sickness,
began now to admonish the man at the head of affairs that he had
probably gone a step too far, and that it is much easier to destroy than
restore confidence. He suddenly changed for the better; tents were
distributed among the sick, and more attention was paid to their diet;
still there was no medical man to attend the sufferers. In this case we
surely look in vain for that sagacity and forethought which Mr. Astor
was thought to possess. His own interest was involved in the result, and
nothing could more clearly prove his reckless indifference for the lives
of his people than his not providing a medical man of some kind or
other, either for his ship or his infant colony.
But feuds and petty grievances among ourselves, arising chiefly from our
minds being soured by hardships, were not the only obstacles we had to
contend with; our weakness and forlorn situation began to open our eyes
to a sense of common danger, and fear began to exercise its influence,
so that unanimity alone could enable us to oppose a {77} common enemy.
Rumours from all quarters and suspicious appearances had raised an alarm
that the distant tribes were forming some dark design of cutting us off,
and reports countenancing this belief were daily brought us by Comecomly
and his people. We now established a regular patrol of six men, which
diminished our labouring body to a mere nothing, but under such
circumstances self-preservation obliged us to adopt every precaution.
Comecomly was sent for, and questioned on the occasion; but all we could
learn from him was, that the hostile tribes were a very bad people, and
ill-disposed towards the whites, and this we had no reason to
disbelieve, because Comecomly and his people were the only Indians who
had regularly traded with us; consequently, we were anxious to ascertain
the cause of this rupture between us and the distant tribes.
We had now begun to pick up a few words of the language, and were given
to understand that the crafty Chinookes, like the cat in the fable, had
fomented and nourished the misunderstanding between us and the distant
tribes; that they had artfully impressed the latter with the idea that
we were hostile towards them, and, by the same crafty policy, assuring
us of their enmity. By this stratagem, they kept them from coming near
us—thereby monopolizing all the trade themselves, by buying up all the
furs, and selling them again to us at double their first cost. As soon,
however, as we were convinced of the {78} intrigues of old Comecomly and
his people, we set about counteracting them. For this purpose, several
parties were sent up the country in different directions, to do away
with the unfavourable impressions, and to convince the natives, far and
near, of our friendly intentions to all.
On the 2nd of May, Mr. M‘Kay, accompanied by Mr. Robert Stuart, in a
small canoe, and four men, proceeded up the river to sound the
dispositions of the Indians, and to assure them of our good-will towards
them; and likewise to gain some information respecting the surrounding
country and state of the water. Having proceeded as far as the cascades,
a distance of 180 miles, made some presents to the principal men, and
convinced all the different tribes they saw of the friendly intentions
of the whites, the party returned again at the end of twelve days,
reporting most favourably of both natives and country.
Mr. M‘Kay had figured in the north-west as an Indian trader—was very
active, but whimsical and eccentric. An anecdote will picture the man:—
It is a habit among the grandees of the Indian trade to have May-poles
with their names inscribed thereon on conspicuous places, not to dance
round, but merely to denote that such a person passed there on such a
day, or to commemorate some event. For this purpose, the tallest tree on
the highest ground is generally selected, and all the branches are
stripped off excepting a small tuft at the top.
On Mr. M‘Kay’s return from his reconnoitring {79} expedition up the
river, he ordered one of his men to climb a lofty tree and dress it for
a May-pole. The man very willingly undertook the job, expecting, as
usual on these occasions, to get a dram; but he had no sooner reached
the top than his master, through love of mischief, lighting a fire at
the bottom, set the tree in a blaze. The poor fellow was instantly
enveloped in a cloud of smoke, and called out for mercy. Water was
dashed on the tree; but this only increased the danger by augmenting the
smoke, for the fire ran up the bark of the gummy pine like gunpowder,
and was soon beyond our reach, so that all hope of saving the man’s life
was at an end. Descending a little, however, he leaped, in despair, on
to a branch of another tree, which fortunately offered him a chance of
safety; and there he hung between earth and heaven, like a squirrel on a
twig, till another man, at no small risk, got up and rescued him from
his perilous situation.
Soon after M‘Kay’s return from the cascades, Mr. Robert Stuart, myself,
and five men, proceeded on an excursion to the north. It was here that
we became fully acquainted with the dangerous effects of the Chinooke
policy. The Indians, on our approach, flew to arms, and made signs for
us to keep at a distance. We halted, and tried to moderate their
ferocity by a display of presents; but they would not listen to us.
Their forces were collecting fast; every moment’s delay increased our
danger; and, fearful of being surrounded, we were deliberating on a
hasty {80} retreat, when, fortunately, a friendly Indian happened to
arrive, by means of whom we got into conversation with the others; and
the result was, that they explained and cleared up the matter to our
utmost satisfaction, and showed us several piles of furs laid up in
store waiting the Chinooke traders; but when they saw and compared the
prices we paid with that which the Chinookes were in the habit of giving
them, they put their hands on their mouths in astonishment, and strongly
urged us to return again, saying they would never more trade with the
one-eyed chief. We got back again to the establishment on the fifteenth
day; yet, notwithstanding the apparent friendly impression we had made
on these sordid and treacherous rogues, we had a very narrow escape in
crossing one of the rivers—for a party of them had got before us, taken
up a strong position on the opposite bank, and disputed the passage;
but, by a little manœuvring, we defeated their intentions. Soon
afterwards, however, one of our men was killed by them; and on another
occasion, a Mr. M‘Kenzie and his whole party, consisting of eight men,
were cut to pieces by them.
But we shall now return, for a moment, to notice what was going on at
the establishment. On the fourth day after our landing, we planted some
potatoes and sowed a few garden seeds, and on the 16th of May we laid
the foundations of our first building; but in order to procure suitable
timber for the purpose, we had to go back some distance—the wood on {81}
the site being so large and unmanageable; and for want of cattle to haul
it, we had to carry it on our shoulders, or drag it along the ground—a
task of no ordinary difficulty. For this purpose, eight men were
harnessed, and they conveyed in six days all the timber required for a
building or store of sixty feet long by twenty-six broad. On the 18th,
as soon as the foundation was completed, the establishment was named
Astoria, in honour of Astor, the projector of the enterprise.
The _Tonquin_, in the prosecution of her voyage along the coast, left
Astoria on the 1st of June, and crossed the bar on the 5th, when we saw
her for the last time. The captain had landed but a small part of the
cargo, intending on his return to put the rest on shore; but with his
ship all was lost, and Astoria, in consequence, was left almost
destitute of the necessary articles of trade. Mr. M‘Kay, as supercargo,
went on board with Mr. Lewis and two Canadians; but Mr. Mumford, the
second officer, was dismissed and sent on shore. On M‘Kay’s embarking,
he called me aside, and taking me by the hand recommended his son to my
care; then adding—“You see,” said he, “how unfortunate we are: the
captain, in one of his frantic fits, has now discharged the only officer
on board,” alluding to Mr. Mumford. “If you ever see us safe back, it
will be a miracle.” So saying, we parted, and he slept on board. The
departure of the ship unfolded to us the danger of our situation. It is
allowed by all experienced fur traders, {82} that in forming an
establishment among savages, the first consideration is safety; and
although we had been aware that the ship’s stay protected the embryo
settlement, and that her departure would proclaim to all the hostile
tribes around our defenceless state, yet was there any preparation made
for the event?—None. When the ship left us, not a gun was mounted; not a
palisade raised; nor the least precaution taken to secure either life or
property. Such was the character of the man whom Mr. Astor placed at the
head of his affairs.
The Indians from all quarters now began to assemble in such swarms, that
we had to relinquish all labour, and think only of defence. We naturally
put the worst construction on so formidable an array of savages in arms.
On the other hand, the arrival of the different tribes might have been
produced by the steps we had lately taken in regard to the Chinooke
policy, of assuring them of our friendly intentions; but the departure
of the ship had left us so powerless and weak, that we could not help
suspecting their intentions; and our suspicion was strengthened by the
absence of Comecomly and his people, who had avoided coming near us ever
since the arrival of the strangers. We had frequently sent for the
crafty chief, but he as frequently disappointed us, until he was given
to understand that a large present would be the reward of his good
offices in the present emergency, for we had reason to believe that now,
as on former occasions, he was very {83} busy in labouring to conceal
the truth, or, in other words, sowing the seeds of alienation, in order
that he and his people might as usual engross all the foreign trade
themselves.
At length Comecomly arrived; necessity compelled us to dissemble our
opinion of his conduct: he was received with open arms, behaved well,
and rendered us essential services. We now opened a friendly intercourse
with the strangers; traded with each tribe in turn; made some presents;
and they left us, apparently well satisfied with the friendly reception
they had experienced, while we were no less agreeably relieved by their
departure. The guard was reduced, and the people set to work as usual.
Comecomly and his two sons received each a suit of chief’s clothing; nor
did they omit to insinuate, that to their influence and good offices we
not only owed our safety, but were indebted for all the furs obtained
from our distant visitors.
Some days afterwards, however, an awkward circumstance took place, which
threatened to involve us again in serious troubles. While in the act of
removing some leaf tobacco, an Indian was detected in the act of
pilfering—for they are notorious thieves; the tobacco was taken from
him, and he was reprimanded for his conduct. “What!” said the fellow,
indignantly, “do you say I am a thief?” at the same time drawing his
bow. M‘Dougall then ordered him to be hand-cuffed and imprisoned, with a
sentinel over him, in one of the deep but open pits, out of {84} which a
large tree had been dug. In the night, however, he contrived to effect
his escape, carrying off not only his irons, but the sentinel’s gun
along with him. Next day Comecomly, accompanied by a large retinue,
arrived at Astoria; the great mufti, as usual, was ushered into the tent
of state. Here M‘Dougall was showing the Chinooke Tye-yea, among other
things, the properties of a blunderbuss, and in so doing made a woful
blunder, for off went the piece unexpectedly, shattering a corner of his
majesty’s robe. The report and the dense smoke issuing from the place
proclaimed danger, and the affrighted chief, darting out of the tent
without his robe, cap, or gun, began calling to his people, who in a
moment, giving the war-whoop and arming themselves, fiercely menaced the
whites with destruction. In the mean time one of our sentinels, hearing
the report of the gun, and seeing the tent enveloped in a cloud of
smoke, and the chief running off at full speed from it, supposed that he
had murdered M‘Dougall, and fired after him, calling out treason!
murder! at the sound of which our people flew to arms; and every man,
with his finger on the trigger of his gun, advanced to the spot.
M‘Dougall and myself, who fortunately knew the circumstances, hastened
to run in between the hostile ranks, making signs of peace, and after a
tumultuous moment, the mysterious affair was explained without
bloodshed; yet long afterwards the chief retained some suspicion that a
plot had been formed against his life.
{85} Among the many visitors who every now and then presented
themselves, were two strange Indians, in the character of man and wife,
from the vicinity of the Rocky Mountains, and who may probably figure in
our narrative hereafter. The husband, named Ko-come-ne-pe-ca, was a very
shrewd and intelligent Indian, who addressed us in the Algonquin
language, and gave us much information respecting the interior of the
country.
On the 15th of July, we were rather surprised at the unexpected arrival
of a north-west proprietor at Astoria, and still more so at the free and
cordial reception given to an opponent. Mr. Thompson, north-west-like,
came dashing down the Columbia in a light canoe, manned with eight
Iroquois and an interpreter, chiefly men from the vicinity of Montreal.
M‘Dougall received him like a brother; nothing was too good for Mr.
Thompson; he had access everywhere; saw and examined everything; and
whatever he asked for he got, as if he had been one of ourselves. Mr.
Thompson at once recognised the two strange Indians, and gave us to
understand that they were both females. His own visit had evidently no
other object but to discourage us—a manœuvre of the North-West policy to
extend their own trade at the expense of ours; but he failed. The
dangers and difficulties, which he took great pains to paint in their
worst colours, did not deter us. He forgot that in speaking to us, he
was speaking to north-westerns—men as experienced and as cunning as
himself. The {86} North-West had penetrated to the west side of the
mountains as early as 1804, and had in 1811 two or three small posts on
the waters of the Columbia, exclusive of the New Caledonia quarter.
Every one knew this, and knowing it, how could we account for the more
than warm and unreserved welcome Mr. Thompson met with from Astor’s
representative. Unless, as some thought at the time, M‘Dougall was
trying to pay Mr. Thompson back with his own coin, by putting on a fair
face, so as to dupe him into an avowal of his real object. This is more
than probable, for in point of acuteness, duplicity, and diplomatic
craft, they were perhaps well matched.
{87} CHAPTER VI
The ten tribes—Number of warriors—Their laws—Chief’s arbitrary power—
Dress, games, and arms of the men—Dress of the women, slaves, and
basket-making—Lewdness of the women—Food, ornaments—The salmon—
Superstitious customs—Sturgeon—Fathomfish—Roots and berries—
Circulating medium—Econé, or Good Spirit—Ecutoch, or Bad Spirit—
Etaminua, or priests—Keelalles, or doctors—War canoes—Diseases—
Winter houses—Temporary, or Summer houses—Fleas—Practice of
flattening the head—Colonization—Wallamitte—Cowlitz, or Puget’s
Sound—Conclusion.
All the Indian tribes inhabiting the country about the mouth of the
Columbia, and for a hundred miles round, may be classed in the following
manner:—1. Chinooks;—2. Clatsops;—3. Cathlamux;—4. Wakicums;—5.
Wacalamus;—6. Cattleputles;—7. Clatscanias;—8. Killimux;—9. Moltnomas;—
and, 10. Chickelis; amounting collectively to about 2,000 warriors.[14]
But they are a commercial rather than a warlike people. Traffic in
slaves and furs is their occupation. They are said to be decreasing in
numbers. All these tribes appear to be descended from the same stock,
live in rather friendly intercourse {88} with, and resemble one another
in language, dress, and habits. Their origin, like that of the other
aborigines of the continent, is involved in fable, although they pretend
to be derived from the musk-rat. Polygamy is common among them, and a
man may have as many wives as he pleases, but he is bound to maintain
his own children. In war, every man belonging to the tribe is bound to
follow his chief; and a coward is often punished with death. All
property is sacred in the eye of the law, nor can any one touch it
excepting the principal chief, or head Tye-yea, who is above the law, or
rather he possesses an arbitrary power without any positive check, so
that if he conceive a liking to anything belonging to his subjects, be
it a wife or a daughter, he can take it without infringing the law; but
he must, nevertheless, pay for what he takes—and their laws assign a
nominal value to property of every kind.
The Chinooks are crafty and intriguing, and have probably learned the
arts of cheating, flattery, and dissimilation in the course of their
traffic with the coasting traders: for, on our first arrival among them,
we found guns, kettles, and various other articles of foreign
manufacture in their possession, and they were up to all the shifts of
bargaining. Nor are they less ingenious than inquisitive; the art they
display in the making of canoes, of pagods, and of fishing-tackle, and
other useful instruments, deserves commendation. They show much skill in
carved {89} work, which they finish with the most delicate polish.
The men are generally stout, muscular, and strong, but not tall, and
have nothing ferocious in their countenances. Their dress invariably
consists of a loose garment, made of the skin of the wood-rat, neatly
sewed together and painted, which they wrap round the body like a
blanket; nor does the hardy savage, though constantly rustling through
the woods, ever wear a shirt, leggings, or shoes. The chief’s robe is
made of sea-otter skin and other valuable furs. All classes wear the
cheapool, or hat, which is made of a tough strong kind of grass, and is
of so close a texture as to be water-proof. The crown is of a conic
form, terminating generally in a point at the top, and the rim so very
broad as to screen the shoulders from the rain. The cheapool is
chequered or diversified with the rude figures of different animals,
particularly the dog and deer, not painted, but ingeniously
interwoven.[15] Their war garments are of two kinds, one is termed
clemal, of elk-skin, dressed and worked to the thickness of nearly half
an inch, and arrow-proof. The clemal nearly covers the whole body, with
an opening left on the right side to allow the arm free action in
combat. The other is a kind of vest, made of small round sticks of the
size and shape of arrows, twelve inches long: they are laid side to
side, and then sewed together, and fixed on the body like a waistcoat.
This is arrow-proof also. They carry a circular {90} shield, about
eighteen inches in diameter, which is likewise made of the elk-skin; but
in addition to its thickness it is hardened by fire and painted, and is
not only arrow-proof, but proof against the knife and the tomahawk also.
Their implements of warfare are guns, bows and arrows, knife, bludgeon,
and tomahawk, all of which they use with great dexterity. A Chinooke
Indian armed _cap-à-pie_ is a most unsightly and hideous being.
When not employed either in war or hunting, the men generally spend
their time in gambling. The chief game, chal-e-chal, at which they stake
their most valuable property, is played by six persons, with ten
circular palettes of polished wood, in size and shape resembling
dollars. A mat three feet broad and six feet long is spread on the
ground, and the articles at stake laid at one end, then the parties seat
themselves, three on each side of the mat, facing one another; this
done, one of the players takes up the ten palettes, shuffling and
shifting them in his hands, when at a signal given he separates them in
his two fists, and throws them out on the mat towards his opponent, and
according as the palettes roll, slide, or lie on the mat when thrown,
the party wins or loses. This he does three times successively. In this
manner each tries his skill in turn, till one of the parties wins. Whole
days and nights are spent in this game without ceasing, and the Indians
seldom grumble or repine even should they lose all that they possess.
During the {91} game the players keep chanting a loud and sonorous tune,
accompanying the different gestures of the body just as the voyageurs
keep time to the paddle.
Having noticed some of the characteristic manners and customs of the
men, I shall now indulge the reader’s curiosity with a few remarks on
the habits and accomplishments of the fair sex. The women are generally
of the middle size, but very stout and flabby, with short necks and
shapeless limbs; yet they are well featured, with something of a smile
on the countenance, fair complexion, light hair, and prominent eyes. In
addition to the rat-garment used by the men, the women wear a kind of
fringed petticoat suspended from the waist down to the knees, made of
the inner rind of the cedar bark, and twisted into threads, which hang
loose like a weaver’s thrums, and keep flapping and twisting about with
every motion of the body, giving them a waddle or duck gait. This
garment might deserve praise for its simplicity, or rather for its
oddity, but it does not screen nature from the prying eye; yet it is
remarkably convenient on many occasions. In a calm the sails lie close
to the mast, metaphorically speaking, but when the wind blows the bare
poles are seen.
Instead of the cedar petticoat, the women of some tribes prefer a breech
cloth, similar to the pow of the Owhyhee females, and is nothing more
than a piece of dressed deer-skin, six inches broad and four feet long,
which, after passing between the thighs, {92} is tied round the waist.
Words can hardly express the disgusting unsightliness of this singular
female dress. The women, when not employed in their domestic labour, are
generally occupied in curing fish, collecting roots, and making mats and
baskets; the latter, of various sizes and different shapes, are made of
the roots of certain shrubs, which are flexible and strong, and they are
capable of containing any liquid. In this branch of industry they excel
among Indian tribes. The neatness and good taste displayed in the
Chinooke baskets are peculiar to that article, which is eagerly sought
after as a curiosity.
The women here are not generally subject to that drudgery common among
most other Indian tribes. Slaves do all the laborious work; and a
Chinooke matron is constantly attended by two, three, or more slaves,
who are on all occasions obsequious to her will. In trade and barter the
women are as actively employed as the men, and it is as common to see
the wife, followed by a train of slaves, trading at the factory, as her
husband. Slaves are the fruits of war and of trade among the tribes
along the sea-coast far to the north, and are regularly bought and sold
in the same manner as any other article of property; but I never knew a
single instance of a Chinooke, or one of the neighbouring tribes, ever
selling his wife, or daughter, or any other member of his family.
Chastity is not considered a virtue by the Chinooke {93} women, and
their amorous propensities know no bounds. All classes, from the highest
to the lowest, indulge in coarse sensuality and shameless profligacy.
Even the chief would boast of obtaining a paltry toy or trifle in return
for the prostitution of his virgin daughter.
The females are excessively fond of singing and adorning their persons
with the fantastic trinkets peculiar to savages; and on these occasions
the slaves are generally rigged out the best, in order to attract
attention and procure admirers. All classes marry very young; and every
woman, whether free born or a slave, is purchased by her husband.
Children are suckled at the breast till their second or third year, and
the mother, in consequence, becomes an old hag at the age of
thirty-five.
The women have also their own amusements. Their chief game, called
omintook, is played by two only, with four beaver teeth, curiously
marked and numbered on one side, which they throw like dice. The two
women being seated on the ground, face to face, like the men at
chal-echal, one of them takes up the teeth, keeps shaking them in her
hands for some time, then throws them down on the mat, counts the
numbers uppermost, and repeating the sum thrice, hands the teeth over to
the other party, who proceeds in like manner. The highest number wins.
At this game, trinkets of various descriptions and value are staked. On
a fine day, it is amusing to see a whole camp or village, both men and
women, {94} here and there in numerous little bands, gambling, jeering,
and laughing at one another, while groups of children keep in constant
motion, either in the water or practising the bow and arrow, and even
the aged take a lively interest in what is passing, and there appears a
degree of happiness among them, which civilized men, wearied with care
and anxious pursuits, perhaps seldom enjoy.
These people live by hunting and fishing; but the greater part of their
food is derived from the waters. The Columbia salmon, of which there are
two species, are perhaps as fine as any in the world, and are caught in
the utmost abundance during the summer season: so that, were a foreign
market to present itself, the natives alone might furnish 1,000 tons
annually. The largest caught in my time weighed forty-seven pounds.
Sturgeon also are very abundant, and of uncommon size, yet tender and
well flavoured, many of them weighing upwards of 700 pounds, and one
caught and brought to us, measured 13 feet 9 inches in length, and
weighed 1,130 pounds. There is a small fish resembling the smelt or
herring, known by the name of ulichan, which enters the river in immense
shoals, in the spring of the year. The ulichans are generally an article
of trade with the distant tribes, as they are caught only at the
entrance of large rivers. To prepare them for a distant market, they are
laid side to side, head and tail alternately, and then a thread run
through both extremities links them together, in which state they are
dried, smoked, {95} and sold by the fathom, hence they have obtained the
name of fathom-fish.[16] Roots and berries likewise form no
inconsiderable portion of the native’s food. Strawberries are ripe in
January. The wapatoe, a perennial root, of the size, shape, and taste of
the common potato, is a favourite article of food at all times of the
year. This esculent is highly esteemed by the whites; many other roots
and berries are to be had, all of which grow spontaneously in the low
marshy ground.[17] Fish, roots, and berries, can therefore be had in
perfection, all along the coast, every month in the year. But not a fish
of any kind is taken out of the ocean.
The circulating medium in use among these people is a small white shell
called higua, about two inches long, of a convex form, and hollow in the
heart, resembling in appearance the small end of a smoking pipe. The
higua is thin, light, and durable, and may be found of all lengths,
between three inches down to one-fourth of an inch, and increases or
decreases in value according to the number required to make a fathom, by
which measure they are invariably sold. Thirty to a fathom are held
equal in value to three fathoms of forty, to four of fifty, and so on.
So high are the higua prized, that I have seen six of 2½ inches long
refused for a new gun. But of late, since the whites came among them,
the beaver skin called enna, has been added to the currency; so that, by
these two articles, which form the medium of trade, all property is
valued, and all exchange fixed and {96} determined. An Indian, in buying
an article, invariably asks the question, Queentshich higua? or,
Queentshich enna? That is, how many higua? or, how many beaver skins is
it?
All Indians are more or less superstitious, and we need scarcely be
surprised at that trait in their character, when even civilized men
respect so many prejudices. Every great chief has one or more pagods or
wooden deities in his house, to which, in all great councils of peace or
war he presents the solemn pipe, and this is the only religious temple
known among them.
They acknowledge a good and a bad spirit, the former named Econé, the
latter Ecutoch. The Etaminuas, or priests, are supposed to possess a
secret power of conversing with the Econé, and of destroying the
influence of the Ecutoch: they are employed in all cases of sickness to
intercede for the dying, that these may have a safe passage to the land
of departed spirits. Besides the Etaminua, there is another class called
Keelalles, or doctors, and it is usual for women, as well as men, to
assume the character of a Keelalle, whose office it is to administer
medicine and cure diseases. But the antic gestures, rude and absurd
ceremonies gone through by them in visiting the sick, are equally
useless and ridiculous, humming, howling, singing, and rattling of
sticks, as if miracles were to be performed by mere noise; yet if we
forget these useless gesticulations, which may be called the ornamental
part, we must {97} allow them to be a serviceable and skilful class of
people. Their knowledge of roots and herbs enables them to meet the most
difficult cases, and to perform cures, particularly in all external
complaints.
The property of a deceased person is generally destroyed, and the near
relations cut their hair, disfigure and lacerate their bodies; nor is
this all, at the funeral ceremony strangers are here, as among some
oriental nations, paid to join in the lamentation. All, excepting
slaves, are laid in canoes or wooden sepulchres, and conveyed to some
consecrated rock or thicket assigned for the dead; but slaves are
otherwise disposed of; that is, if he or she dies in summer, the body is
carelessly buried; but if in winter, a stone is tied about the neck, and
the body thrown into the river, and none but slaves ever touch a slave
after death.
When the salmon make their first appearance in the river, they are never
allowed to be cut crosswise, nor boiled, but roasted; nor are they
allowed to be sold without the heart being first taken out, nor to be
kept over night; but must be all consumed or eaten the day they are
taken out of the water; all these rules are observed for about ten days.
These superstitious customs perplexed us at first not a little, because
they absolutely refused to sell us any unless we complied with their
notions, which of course we consented to do. All the natives along the
coast navigate in canoes, and so expert are they that the stormiest
weather or roughest water never {98} prevents them from cruising on
their favourite element. The Chinook and other war canoes are made like
the Birman barge, out of a solid tree, and are from forty to fifty feet
long, with a human face or a white-headed eagle, as large as life,
carved on the prow, and raised high in front.
If we may judge from appearances, these people are subject to but few
diseases. Consumption and the venereal disease are the complaints most
common amongst them; from their knowledge in simples, they generally
succeed in curing the latter even in its worst stages.
In winter they live in villages, but in summer rove about from place to
place. Their houses are oblong, and built of broad, split cedar-planks,
something in the European style, and covered with the bark of the same
tree. They are sufficiently large and commodious to contain all the
members of a numerous family, slaves included. At the top or ridge pole,
an opening gives free passage to the smoke; they have one or more,
according to the number of families in each. But I never saw more than
four fires, or above eighty persons—slaves and all—in the largest house.
Towards the spring of the year, or as soon as the rainy season is over,
all the Indians on the coast break up their winter quarters, and form
large square sheds, for the purpose of drying and curing their fish,
roots, and berries. Within this huge enclosure they then live in hordes,
like so many cattle in a fold; but {99} these sheds are only for
temporary purposes; and it must have been on some such occasion that
Meares found Wickananish in his “household of 800 persons.”[18] They
migrate towards the interior sometimes for months together; war and
traffic in slaves often call them to a distance; and this may account
for the absence of inhabitants about Port Discovery and Desolation Sound
when Vancouver was there.[19] But another cause, and perhaps the best
that can be assigned, for their abandoning their winter domiciles as
soon as the warm weather sets in, is the immense swarms of fleas that
breed in them during that season. You might as well encounter a
bee-hive, as approach one of these deserted villages.
Among other fantastic usages, many of the tribes on the coast of the
Pacific, and particularly those about Columbia, flatten the heads of
their children. No sooner, therefore, is a child born, whether male or
female, than its head is put into a press, or mould of boards, in order
to flatten it. From the eyebrows, the head of a Chinook inclines
backward to the crown; the back part inclining forward, but in a less
degree. There is thus a ridge raised from ear to ear, giving the head
the form of a wedge; and the more acute the angle, the greater the
beauty.[20] The flatness of the head is considered the distinguishing
mark of being free born. All slaves are forbidden to bear this
aristocratic distinction. Yet I have seen one or two instances to the
contrary, where a favourite slave was permitted to flatten the head of a
first-born {100} child. No such custom is practised in any part of the
interior. But all nations, civilized as well as savage, have their
peculiar prejudices. The law of the land compels a South-Sea Islander to
pull out a tooth; a northern Indian cuts a joint off his finger;
national usage obliges a Chinese lady to deform her feet; an English
lady, under the influence of fashion, compresses her waist; while a
Chinook lady deforms her head. But Solomon hath said, “That which is
crooked cannot be made straight.”
As tracts suitable for agricultural purposes, may be mentioned several
fertile and rich flats on the Columbia, although the country generally
presents but a rocky, light, and sandy soil. On the south side, the
river is joined, about eighty miles above Astoria, by the Wallamitte, a
fine clear stream, 300 miles long, which, with its tributary rivulets,
fertilizes one of the finest valleys west of the Rocky Mountains. The
Wallamitte was always called by the whites, “the garden of the
Columbia.” For forty miles the river is navigable for boats of the
largest size, to the falls, but there it is barred across by a ledge of
rocks, over which the whole body of water descends—a height of 30 feet—
in one smooth green sheet. The climate of this valley is salubrious and
dry, differing materially from that of the sea-coast; and the heat is
sufficiently intense to ripen every kind of grain in a short time.
Descending from the Wallamitte to Puget’s Sound, north of the Columbia,
where there is a large and {101} convenient sea-port, or harbour, we
find here a tract ranking next, perhaps, in an agricultural point of
view. The plain is well watered by several fine rivers, and is far more
extensive than the valley of the Wallamitte, nor is the soil much
inferior; but there is a vast difference in the climate; rain falls near
the coast almost incessantly from the beginning of November till April,
and the country in other respects is gloomy and forbidding.
But, however inviting may be the soil, the remote distance and savage
aspect of the boundless wilderness along the Pacific seem to defer the
colonization of such a region to a period far beyond the present
generation; and yet, if we consider the rapid progress of civilization
in other new and equally remote countries, we might still indulge the
hope of seeing this, at no distant time, one of the most flourishing
countries on the globe.
The language spoken by these people is guttural, very difficult for a
foreigner to learn, and equally hard to pronounce. To speak the Chinook
dialect, you must be a Chinook.
{102} CHAPTER VII
First expedition into the interior—Number of the party—Tongue Point—
Canoe swamped—Sailing difficulties—Indian villages—Cedars—First
night’s encampment—Mount Coffin—Cowlitz—Wallamitte—Columbia Valley—
Point Vancouver—Difficulties—The Cascades—Concourse of Indians—
General appearance of the country—The portage—Description of the
Cascades—The roll of tobacco—Pilfering—Mr. Thompson—Exchange of men—
The Long Narrows—Warlike appearance of the Indian cavalry—Button
contract—Critical situation of the party—Camp of gamblers—The
narrows—Hard work at the carrying place—A day’s work—Description of
the portage—Number of Indians—Aspect of the country—The plains
begin—End of the woods—Want of sleep—Demeanour of the Indians.
Notwithstanding the departure of the ship, and our reduced numbers,
measures were taken for extending the trade; and the return of Mr.
Thompson up the Columbia, on his way back to Canada, was considered as
affording a favourable opportunity for us to fit out a small expedition,
with the view of establishing a trading post in the interior: we were to
proceed together, for the sake of mutual protection and safety, our
party being too small to attempt anything of the kind by itself.
Accordingly, Mr. {103} David Stuart, myself, Messrs. Pillette and
M‘Lennan, three Canadian voyageurs, and two Sandwich Islanders,
accompanied by Mr. Thompson’s party and the two strangers, in all
twenty-one persons, started from Astoria, at eleven o’clock on the 22nd
of July, 1811.
In two clumsy Chinook canoes, laden each with fifteen or twenty packages
of goods, of ninety pounds weight, we embarked to ascend the strong and
rapid Columbia; and, considering the unskilfulness of our party
generally in the management of such fickle craft, the undertaking was
extremely imprudent; but then, being all of us more or less ambitious,
we overlooked, in the prospect of ultimate success, both difficulty and
danger. After our canoes were laden, we moved down to the water’s edge—
one with a cloak on his arm, another with his umbrella, a third with
pamphlets and newspapers for amusement, preparing, as we thought, for a
trip of pleasure, or rather all anxious to be relieved from our present
harassing and dangerous situation. The wind being fair and strong, we
hoisted sail; but had not proceeded to Tongue Point, a small promontory
in the river, not three miles distant from Astoria, when the unfriendly
wind dashed our canoes, half-filled with water, on the shore; and, as we
were not able to double the Point, we made a short passage across the
isthmus, and then, being somewhat more sheltered from the wind,
proceeded, but had not got many miles before our progress was again
arrested by a {104} still worse accident; for, while passing among the
islands and shoals, before rounding Oathlamuck Point, at the head of
Gray’s Bay, the wind and swell drove us on a sandbank, where we stuck
fast—the waves dashing over us, and the tide ebbing rapidly.[21] Down
came the mast, sail, and rigging about our ears; and, in the hurry and
confusion, the canoes got almost full of water, and we were well
drenched: here we had to carry the goods and drag the canoes till we
reached deep water again, which was no easy task. This disaster occupied
us about two hours, and gave us a foretaste of what we might expect
during the remainder of the voyage. Cloaks and umbrellas, so gay in the
morning, were now thrown aside for the more necessary paddle and
carrying strap, and the pamphlets and newspapers went to the bottom.
Having, however, got all put to rights again, we hoisted sail once more,
passed Puget’s Island, and then the great Whill Wetz village, situated
on Oak Point, where the river makes a sudden bend to S.S.E.:[22] here,
on the south side, the rocks became high and the current strong, and
night coming on us before we could reach low ground, we were compelled
to encamp on the verge of a precipice, where we passed a gloomy night—
drenched with wet, without fire, without supper, and without sleep.
During this day’s journey, both sides of the river presented a thick
forest down to the water’s edge—the timber being large, particularly the
cedars. The sound, from Cape Disappointment {105} to the head of Gray’s
Bay, which we passed to-day, is about twenty-five miles in length, and
varies from four to seven in breadth.
On the 23rd, after a restless night, we started, stemming a strong and
almost irresistible current by daylight. Crossing to the north side, not
far from our encampment, we passed a small rocky height, called Coffin
Rock, or Mount Coffin, a receptacle for the dead: all over this rock—
top, sides, and bottom—were placed canoes of all sorts and sizes,
containing relics of the dead, the congregated dust of many ages.
Not far from Mount Coffin, on the same side, was the mouth of a small
river, called by the natives Cowlitz, near which was an isolated rock,
covered also with canoes and dead bodies. This sepulchral rock has a
ghastly appearance, in the middle of the stream, and we rowed by it in
silence; then passing Deer’s Island, we encamped at the mouth of the
Wallamitte.[23] The waters of the Columbia are exceedingly high this
year—all the low banks and ordinary water-marks are overflowed, and the
island inundated. At the mouth of the Wallamitte, commences the great
Columbian valley of Lewis and Clark; but in the present state of flood,
surrounded on all sides by woods almost impervious, the prospect is not
fascinating. The Indians appeared very numerous in several villages.
General course the same as yesterday, S.E.
On the 24th, after a good night’s rest, and having {106} made some
trifling presents to a principal chief, named Kiasno,[24] we proceeded
on our voyage; but had not gone far, when we passed another and larger
branch of the Wallamitte—so that this river enters the Columbia by two
channels, from the last of which the Columbia makes a gradual bend to
the E.N.E.
During this day, we passed the Namowit Village, Bellevue Point,
Johnson’s Island, and stayed for the night as Wasough-ally Camp, near
Quicksand River, which enters the Columbia on the left.[25]
Bellevue Point on the right-hand side of the river, although but low,
presents a scene of great beauty, compared to what we had yet seen
during the voyage: here the eye is occasionally relieved from the
monotonous gloomy aspect of dense woods, by the sight of green spots,
clumps of trees, small lakes, and meadows alternately.
On the 25th, early this morning, we arrived at and passed Point
Vancouver, so named after the celebrated navigator, and the extreme
point of Broughton’s survey of the Columbia.[26] From the lower branch
of the Wallamitte to Point Vancouver, the banks of the river on both
sides are low; but, as we proceeded further on, a chain of huge black
rocks rose perpendicularly from the water’s edge: over their tops fell
many bold rills of clear water. Hemmed in by these rocky heights, the
current assumed double force, so that our paddles proved almost
ineffectual; and, to get on, we were obliged to drag ourselves along
from point to point, by laying {107} hold of bushes and the branches of
overhanging trees, which, although they impeded our progress in one way,
aided us in another. After a day of severe toil, we halted for the
night. We saw but five Indians all this day; and, for the first time,
now came to our camp at night. The ebb and flow of the tide is not felt
here. The country, generally, has a wild and savage appearance: course,
E.N.E.
On the 26th, it was late this morning before we could muster courage to
embark. The burning sun of yesterday, and the difficulty of stemming the
rapid current, had so reduced our strength that we made but little
headway to-day; and, after being for six hours rowing as many miles, we
stopped, tired and rather discouraged: course, N.E.
On the 27th, we were again early at work, making the best of our way
against a turbulent and still increasing current: as we advanced, the
river became narrower, the hills and rocks approaching nearer and nearer
to the river on either side. Here the view was very confined, and by no
means cheering.
We, however, continued our toil till late in the evening, when, in place
of a uniform smooth and strong current, as usual, the water became
confused and ripply, with whirlpools and cross currents, indicating the
proximity of some obstruction. At the foot of a rocky cliff, which we
named Inshoach Castle,[27] we put ashore for the night; nor did we see a
single Indian all day. Mr. Thompson encamped on one side {108} of the
river, and we on the other. General course, to-day, nearly east.
During last night the water rose ten inches. This was supposed to be
occasioned by the tide, although, after passing Bellevue Point, the
influence of tide was not perceptible on the current. From the mouth of
the river to this place—a distance of a hundred and eighty miles—there
is sufficient depth of water for almost any craft to pass; even ships of
400 tons might reach Inshoach Castle had they power to stem the current.
As regards agricultural purposes, Bellevue Point and the valley of the
Wallamitte were the most favourable spots we met with. Generally
speaking, the whole country on either side of the river, as far as the
eye could reach, presented a dense, gloomy forest. We found, however, a
marked improvement in the climate. Here the air is dry and agreeable.
Fogs, mists, damp and rainy weather, ceased after we had passed the
Wallamitte.
On the 28th, early in the morning, Mr. Thompson crossed over to our
camp, and informed us that we were within a short distance of the
cascades. We then embarked, and proceeded together. After making some
distance with the paddles, we had recourse to the poles, and then to the
hauling line, till at length we reached the point of disembarkation.
We had no sooner landed, than a great concourse of Indians assembled at
a short distance from us, and, after holding a consultation, came moving
on in a {109} body to meet us, or rather, as we thought, to welcome our
arrival. The parley being ended, and the ceremony of smoking over, they
pointed up the river, signifying that the road was open for us to pass.
Embarking again, we pushed on, and passing the Strawberry Island of
Lewis and Clark, we continued for some distance further, and finally put
on shore at the end of the portage, or carrying place, situate on the
right-hand side of the river, and at the foot of a rather steep
bank.[28] Here the Indians crowded about us in fearful numbers, and some
of them became very troublesome. A small present being made to each of
the chiefs, or great men, in order to smooth them down a little in our
favour, they pointed across the portage, or carrying place, as much as
to say—All is clear; pass on.
From this point we examined the road over which we had to transport the
goods, and found it to be 1450 yards long, with a deep descent, near the
Indian villages, at the far end, with up-hills, down-hills, and
side-hills, most of the way, besides a confusion of rocks, gullies, and
thick woods, from end to end. To say that there is not a worse path
under the sun would perhaps be going a step too far, but to say that,
for difficulty and danger, few could equal it would be saying but the
truth. Certainly nothing could be more discouraging than our present
situation—obstacles on every side; by land, by water, and from the
Indians—all hostile alike. Having landed the goods, and secured the
canoe, we commenced the {110} laborious task of carrying, and by
dividing ourselves in the best possible manner for safety, we managed to
get all safe over by sunset. Not being accustomed myself to carry, I had
of course, as well as some others, to stand sentinel; but seeing the
rest almost wearied to death, I took hold of a roll of tobacco, and
after adjusting it on my shoulder, and holding it fast with one hand, I
moved on to ascend the first bank; at the top of which, however, I stood
breathless, and could proceed no farther. In this awkward plight, I met
an Indian, and made signs to him to convey the tobacco across, and that
I would give him all the buttons on my coat; but he shook his head, and
refused. Thinking the fellow did not understand me, I threw the tobacco
down, and pointing to the buttons one by one, at last he consented, and
off he set at a full trot, and I after him; but just as we had reached
his camp at the other end, he pitched it down a precipice of two hundred
feet in height, and left me to recover it the best way I could. Off I
started after my tobacco; and if I was out of breath after getting up
the first bank, I was ten times more so now. During my scrambling among
the rocks to recover my tobacco, not only the wag that played me the
trick, but fifty others, indulged in a hearty laugh at my expense; but
the best of it was, the fellow came for his payment, and wished to get
not only the buttons but the coat along with them. I was for giving him—
what he richly deserved—buttons of another mould; but peace, in our
present situation, was deemed the better {111} policy: so the rogue got
the buttons, and we saw him no more.
Before leaving this noted place, the first barrier of the Columbia, we
may remark that the whole length of the cascade, from one end to the
other, is two miles and a half. We were now encamped at the head or
upper end of them, where the whole river is obstructed to the breadth of
one hundred or one hundred and twenty feet, and descends in high and
swelling surges with great fury for about one hundred yards. Then the
channel widens and the river expands, and is here and there afterwards
obstructed with rocks, whirlpools, and eddies throughout, rendering the
navigation more or less dangerous; but there are no falls in any part of
it, either at high or low water, and with the exception of the first
shoot, at the head of the cascade, where the water rushes with great
impetuosity down its channel, they are, with care and good management,
passable at all seasons for large craft, that is boats.
All the Indians we saw about this place were in three small camps or
villages, and might number two hundred and fifty or three hundred at
most. They call themselves Cath-le-yach-ê-yachs, and we could scarcely
purchase from the lazy rascals fish and roots enough for our supper. In
dress, appearance, and habits, they differed but little from those about
Astoria; but they spoke a different language, although many of them
understood and spoke Chinook also.[29]
{112} At first we formed a favourable opinion of them; but their conduct
soon changed, for we had no sooner commenced transporting our goods than
they tried to annoy us in every kind of way—to break our canoes, pilfer
our property, and even to threaten ourselves, by throwing stones and
pointing their arrows at us. We were not, however, in a situation to
hazard a quarrel with them, unless in the utmost extremity; and it was
certainly with great difficulty, and by forbearance on our part, that we
got so well off as we did. After finishing the labour of the day, we
arranged ourselves for the night. The Indians all assembled again about
our little camp, and became very insolent and importunate; they looked
at everything, and coveted all they saw. Indeed we were afraid at one
time that we would have to appeal to arms; but fortunately, after
distributing a few trifling presents among the principal men, they
smoked and left us; but we kept a constant watch all night. The only
domestic animal we saw among them was the dog.
On the 29th, early in the morning, we prepared to leave the cascades;
but the bank being steep, and the current very strong where we had to
embark, we did not venture off before broad daylight, and before that
time the Indians had crowded about us as usual. Their pilfering
propensities had no bounds. The more we gave them the more they
expected, and of course the more trouble they gave us; and
notwithstanding all our care and kindness {113} to them, they stole our
canoe axe and a whole suit of clothes, excepting the hat, belonging to
Mr. M‘Lennan, which we were unable to recover. We had no sooner
embarked, however, than Mr. M‘Lennan in his usual good humour, standing
up in the canoe, and throwing the hat amongst them, said, “Gentlemen,
there’s the hat, you have got the rest, the suit is now complete,” and
we pushed off and left them.
Immediately above the cascade the river resumes its usual breadth, with
a smooth and strong current. The day being exceedingly warm, we made but
little headway. In the evening we passed a small river on our left, near
which we encamped for the night.[30] Here we had promised ourselves a
quiet night and sound sleep; but the Indians finding us out partly
deprived us of both, as we had to keep watch. They were but few,
however, and therefore peaceable. Course this day, N.N.E.
On the 30th we set off early, leaving the five Indians, who slept in our
camp last night, sitting by the fire, enjoying a pipe of tobacco. As we
proceeded, the country became more bold, rough, and mountainous; but
still covered with thick woods and heavy timber. The day being very hot,
we encamped early on a very pleasant and thickly-wooded island—course,
N.E.
On the 31st, after breakfast, Mr. Thompson and party left us to
prosecute their journey, and Mr. Stuart, in one of our canoes,
accompanied him as far {114} as the long narrows, nor did he return till
late in the afternoon, and then thinking it too late to start, we passed
the remainder of the day in camp, enjoying the repose which we had so
much need of. The two strangers remained with us.
On Mr. Thompson’s departure, Mr. Stuart gave him one of our Sandwich
Islanders, a bold and trustworthy fellow, named Cox, for one of his men,
a Canadian, called Boulard.[31] Boulard had the advantage of being long
in the Indian country, and had picked up a few words of the language on
his way down. Cox, again, was looked upon by Mr. Thompson as a prodigy
of wit and humour, so that those respectively acceptable qualities led
to the exchange.
On the 1st of August we left our encampment at daylight, but a strong
head-wind impeded our progress, and not being able to get on, we put
ashore, and encamped at a much earlier hour than we wished. Course, N.E.
On the 2d, at three o’clock in the afternoon, we reached Sandy Bay, at
the foot of the narrows. The Indians, being apprised of our coming, had
assembled, as might be expected, in great numbers, and presented to us
quite a new sight, being all armed _cap-à-pie_, painted, and mounted on
horseback. To us in our present situation they were rather objects of
terror than of attraction, but we had to put the best face we could on
things, so we landed our goods and invited them to smoke with us.
We had not hitherto settled upon any plan, whether {115} to continue our
route by water up the long narrows, or undertake the portage by land,
both appearing equally difficult and equally dangerous: at last we
adopted the latter plan, because it was recommended by the Indians, in
whose power we were either way. The plan being now settled, we bargained
with the chiefs for the carriage of the goods—ten metal buttons for each
piece was the price stipulated, which reduced our stock by exactly two
and a half gross: and in less than ten minutes after the whole
cavalcade, goods and all, disappeared, leaving us standing in suspense
and amazement. While we were in this painful state of anxiety, one man
and an Indian were left to guard the canoes, whilst the rest of us,
carrying what we could on our backs, followed the Indians on foot to the
other end of the portage, where we arrived at sunset, and found, to our
great satisfaction, all the property laid together in safety, and
guarded by the chiefs. Having paid the Indians what we promised, and a
small recompense to the different chiefs, we arranged our little camp
for the night, the chiefs promising us their protection. All the Indians
now flocked around us, men, women, and children, and spent the whole
night in smoking, dancing and singing, while we kept watch in the centre
of the ominous circle. During the night, however, notwithstanding the
chief’s guarantee of protection, we perceived some suspicious movements,
which gave us considerable alarm. We had recourse again and again to the
chiefs, who at last admitted {116} that there was some indication of
danger; but added that they were still our friends, and would do their
utmost to protect us. Just at this moment, as we were consulting with
the chiefs, several harangues were made in the camp, the smoking ceased,
and the women and children were beginning to move off. It was a critical
moment; we saw the cloud gathering, but could not dispel it; our fate
seemed to hang upon a hair. At last we hit upon a stratagem; we
persuaded the chiefs to come and stop within our little circle for the
night, which they did, and from that position they harangued in turn,
which had a good effect, and in this manner we passed the night, not
forgetting every now and then to give the chiefs some little toy or
trifle, to stimulate their exertions in our favour.
Early in the morning of the 3rd, four of us returned to the other end of
the portage, and by two o’clock got one of the canoes safe across.
Returning again immediately, we arrived with the other a little after
dark; one man still remaining across, taking care of the canoe-tackling
and camp utensils. The Indians all the day kept dancing and smoking, and
it was our interest to keep them so employed as much as possible; and no
one knew better how to do so than Mr. Stuart, his eye saw everything at
a glance, and his mild and insinuating manners won their affections.
As night came on, the Indians were to be seen divided in groups, as if
in consultation; but there {117} appeared no sign of unanimity among
them; each chief seemed occupied with his own little band, and we
learned that they were not all one people, with one interest, or under
one control, and this divided state no doubt added greatly to our
safety; for wherever we found one chief alone, he invariably pointed to
the others as bad men, calling them sho-sho-nez, or inlanders. Not
knowing, however, who were our friends or who our foes, we had to keep a
strict watch all night.
At daybreak on the 4th, three of our men crossed the portage for the
remainder of the goods, and arrived safely at an early hour, but had
enough to do to save their kettles from some scamps they met with on the
way.
The length of this dry and sandy portage is nine miles; and when it is
taken into consideration that we had to go and come all that distance
four times in one day, without a drop of water to refresh ourselves,
loaded as we were, and under a burning sun, it will be admitted that it
was no ordinary task. Under any other circumstances but a struggle
between life and death, it could never be performed; but it was too
much; the effort was almost beyond human strength, and I may venture to
say, all circumstances considered, it will never be done again.
The main camp of the Indians is situated at the head of the narrows, and
may contain, during the salmon season, 3,000 souls, or more; but the
constant inhabitants of the place do not exceed 100 {118} persons, and
are called Wy-am-pams;[32] the rest are all foreigners from different
tribes throughout the country, who resort hither, not for the purpose of
catching salmon, but chiefly for gambling and speculation; for trade and
traffic, not in fish, but in other articles; for the Indians of the
plains seldom eat fish, and those of the sea-coast sell, but never buy
fish. Fish is their own staple commodity. The articles of traffic
brought to this place by the Indians of the interior are generally
horses, buffalo-robes, and native tobacco, which they exchange with the
natives of the sea-coast and other tribes, for the higua beads and other
trinkets. But the natives of the coast seldom come up thus far. Now all
these articles generally change hands through gambling, which alone
draws so many vagabonds together at this place; because they are always
sure to live well here, whereas no other place on the Columbia could
support so many people together. The long narrows, therefore, is the
great emporium or mart of the Columbia, and the general theatre of
gambling and roguery.
We saw great quantities of fish everywhere; but what were they among so
many: we could scarcely get a score of salmon to buy. For every
fisherman there are fifty idlers, and all the fish caught are generally
devoured on the spot; so that the natives of the place can seldom lay up
their winter stock until the gambling season is over, and their
troublesome visitors gone. All the gamblers, horse-stealers, {119} and
other outcasts throughout the country, for hundreds of miles round, make
this place their great rendezvous during summer.
The narrows by water are not a great deal longer than the portage by
land. At the upper end, during low water, a broad and flat ledge of
rocks bars the whole river across, leaving only a small opening or
portal, not exceeding forty feet, on the left side, through which the
whole body of water must pass. Through this gap it rushes with great
impetuosity; the foaming surges dash through the rocks with terrific
violence; no craft, either large or small, can venture there in safety.
During floods, this obstruction, or ledge of rocks, is covered with
water, yet the passage of the narrows is not thereby improved.
Immediately above the rocks, the river resembles a small still lake,
with scarcely any current.
The general aspect of the country around the long narrows cannot be
called agreeable; the place is lone, gloomy, and the surface rugged,
barren, and rocky; yet it is cheering in comparison with the dense
forests which darken the banks of the river to this place. At the foot
of the narrows the whole face of nature is changed, like night into day.
There the woody country ceases on both sides of the river at once, and
abruptly; the open and barren plains begin. The contrast is sudden,
striking, and remarkable. Distance from the cascades to this place
seventy miles.
The great bend or elbow of the Columbia is {120} formed by the long
narrows: here, on the west side, terminates that long, high, and
irregular chain of mountains which lie parallel to the coast, dividing
the waters which flow into the Pacific on the west, from those running
into the Columbia on the east. This range abounds in beaver and elk, and
is often frequented by the industrious hunter. At the Indian tents we
saw several small packages of beaver, but we purchased none, our canoes
being too small; and, besides, they will always find their way to
Astoria. We have all along, however, impressed on the natives the object
of our visit to their country, and the value of beaver.
The Indians have been more troublesome, more importunate and forward
to-day than at any time since our arrival among them. They often
expressed a wish to see what we had in our bales and boxes. The chiefs
also gave us to understand that their good offices merited a reward, and
they could not comprehend why people who had so much as we were not more
liberal. We endeavoured to satisfy their demands, and towards evening
the chiefs were invited to sleep in our camp; but for us there was no
sleep: there is no rest for the wicked.
{121} CHAPTER VIII
Columbia Falls—A canoe swamped—Suspicious behaviour of the Indians—
Stratagem—Umatallow—Walla Walla—Great body of Indians—Harangues—
Indian ceremonies—The great forks—Difference in the waters—Length of
the forks—The British flag—Mr. Thompson’s design—Indian ideas—
Salmon—European articles—Tummatapam—Departure from the Forks—Indian
honesty—Eyakema—Marl hills—Dead children—Superstitions—Priest’s
Rapid—Rattlesnakes—Appearance of the country—Kewaughchen—Perilous
situation of a canoe—The two sisters——The old Indian—Hunting party—
Horses—The priest—Piss-cows—Sopa—Great assemblage of Indians—The
comet—Oakinacken—Distance from Astoria—Indian council—Resolve to
winter—Some account of the place—The stolen watch—The priest
dismissed—Voyage concluded—The two strangers—First building—Division
of the party—Lonely winter—The lost party—Indian trade—Mr. Stuart’s
adventures.
On the 5th of August, early in the morning, after making the chiefs a
few presents, we proceeded, and had the singular good luck to get off
with the loss of only one paddle. As we left the beach, the sullen
savages crowded to the water’s edge, and in silence stood and gazed at
us, as if reproaching themselves for their forbearance. As we proceeded,
the banks {122} of the river were literally lined with Indians. Having
ascended about seven miles, we arrived at the falls—the great Columbia
Falls, as they are generally called; but, from the high floods this
year, they were scarcely perceptible, and we passed them without ever
getting out of our canoes. In seasons of low water, however, the break
or fall is about twenty feet high, and runs across the whole breadth of
the river, in an oblique direction. The face of the country about this
place is bare, rugged, and rocky, and, to our annoyance, every point was
swarming with Indians, all as anxious to get to us as we were to avoid
them. Our exertions, and the want of sleep for the last three nights in
succession, almost stupefied us, and we were the more anxious to find
some quiet resting-place for the night. We halted a short distance above
the falls, and there encamped. The current was strong, and rapid the
whole of this day. Course, north.
On the 6th, after passing a comfortless and almost sleepless night,
owing to the crowd of Indians that had collected about us, we were on
the water again before sunrise, stemming a strong and rapid current.
About a mile from our last encampment, and opposite to a rocky island,
the river Lowhum enters the Columbia on the east side.[33] Its breadth
is considerable, but the depth of water at its mouth is scarcely
sufficient to float an Indian canoe, and over the rocky bottom it made a
noise like thunder. Proceeding from this place, we observed, a short
distance ahead, {123} a very large camp of Indians, and in order to
avoid them we crossed over towards the left shore; but found the current
so powerful, that we had to lay our paddles aside and take to the lines.
In this rather dangerous operation, we had frequently to scramble up
among the rocks. Soon after, a few Indians volunteered their services to
help us, and we found them very useful; but one of them, while
conducting the line round a rock, endeavoured to cut it with a stone; he
was detected, however, in the act, and just in time to prevent accident.
Had the villain succeeded, not only the goods, but in all likelihood
some lives would have been lost. The wind springing up, we hoisted sail;
but found the experiment dangerous, owing to the rapidity of the
current. We encamped at a late hour without seeing a single Indian.
Course as yesterday.
On the 7th, early in the morning, we passed the river Day—not broad, but
pretty deep, and distant about thirty miles from the river Lowhum.[34]
In all directions, the face of the country is one wide and boundless
plain, with here and there some trifling inequalities, but not a tree
nor bush to be seen. General course as yesterday.
On the 8th, after a quiet and comfortable night’s rest, we embarked
early; and hoisting sail with a fair wind, we scudded along at a good
rate till two o’clock in the afternoon, when, all of a sudden, a squall
overtook us and broke the mast of one of our canoes, which, in the hurry
and confusion of the moment, {124} filled with water, so that we had
great difficulty in getting safe to shore.
The day being fine, we set about drying our things, and for that purpose
began to spread them out, for every article had got thoroughly soaked;
but this task we had no sooner commenced than the Indians flocked about
us in great numbers. We therefore soon perceived the impropriety and
danger of exhibiting so great a temptation before their eyes. In a few
minutes we were almost surrounded by bows and arrows, one volley of
which might have extinguished the expedition for ever; and one of the
fellows had the audacity to shoot an arrow into one of our bales, as a
warning of what might follow. In short, we thought we could read in the
savage expression of their countenances some dark design; we therefore
immediately commenced loading. Wet and dry were bundled together, and
put into the canoes; and in order to amuse for a moment, and attract the
attention of the crowd, I laid hold of an axe, and set it up at the
distance of eighty yards, then taking up my rifle, drove a ball through
it. This manœuvre had the desired effect. While the Indians stood gazing
with amazement at the hole in the axe, our people were not idle. We
embarked and got off without a word on either side. Having reached a
small, snug island near the Suppa river, we put ashore for the
night.[35] Course as yesterday.
The 9th, we remained all day encamped drying the goods, and were visited
only by the Indians in one canoe, who sold us a fine salmon.
{125} On the 10th, at an early hour, we proceeded on our voyage, and met
with no obstacle till the evening, when we arrived at the foot of a long
and strong rapid, where we encamped near the mouth of a considerable
river called Umatallow, which enters the Columbia here. This river takes
its rise in a long range of blue mountains, which runs nearly east and
west, and forms the northern boundary of the great Snake nation.
Opposite to our encampment, on the west side, is situated a large mound
or hill of considerable height, which, from its lonely situation and
peculiar form, we called Dumbarton Castle.[36] During this day we saw
many Indians, all occupied in catching salmon. Course as usual.
On the 11th we commenced ascending the rapid—a task which required all
our skill and strength to accomplish; and paddles, poles, hauling lines,
and carrying-straps were in requisition in turn, and yet half the day
was consumed ere we got to the top. At the foot of this rapid, which is
a mile in length, the river makes a quick bend to the east for about two
miles, then comes gradually round again to the north from the head of
the rapid. The channel of the river is studded on both sides with gloomy
black rocks arranged like colonnades, for upwards of twenty miles. Here
are some sandy islands also, on one of which we encamped; and a dark and
cheerless encampment it was, surrounded and shaded by these gloomy
heights.
On the 12th we left our camp early, and in a short {126} time came to
the colonnade rocks, which suddenly terminated in two huge bluffs, one
on each side of the river, exactly opposite to each other, like
monumental columns. The river between these bluffs lies right south and
north.[37] The banks of the river then become low with sand and gravel,
and the plains open full to view again, particularly on the east side.
Close under the right bluff issues the meandering Walla Walla, a
beautiful little river, lined with weeping willows. It takes its rise in
the blue mountains already noticed. At the mouth of the Walla Walla a
large band of Indians were encamped, who expressed a wish that we should
pass the day with them. We encamped accordingly; yet for some time not
an Indian came near us, and those who had invited us to pass the day
with them seemed to have gone away; so that we were at a loss what
construction to put upon their shyness. But in the midst of our
perplexity we perceived a great body of men issuing from the camp, all
armed and painted, and proceeded by three chiefs. The whole array came
moving on in solemn and regular order till within twenty yards of our
tent. Here the three chiefs harangued us, each in his turn; all the rest
giving, every now and then, a vociferous shout of approbation when the
speaker happened to utter some emphatical expression. The purport of
these harangues was friendly, and as soon as the chiefs had finished
they all sat down on the grass in a large circle, when the great calumet
of peace was produced, and the smoking began. Soon {127} after the
women, decked in their best attire, and painted, arrived, when the
dancing and singing commenced—the usual symbols of peace and friendship;
and in this pleasing and harmonious mood they passed the whole day.
The men were generally tall, raw-boned, and well dressed; having all
buffalo-robes, deer-skin leggings, very white, and most of them
garnished with porcupine quills. Their shoes were also trimmed and
painted red;—altogether, their appearance indicated wealth. Their
voices were strong and masculine, and their language differed from any
we had heard before. The women wore garments of well dressed deer-skin
down to their heels; many of them richly garnished with beads, higuas,
and other trinkets—leggings and shoes similar to those of the men.
Their faces were painted red. On the whole, they differed widely in
appearance from the piscatory tribes we had seen along the river. The
tribes assembled on the present occasion were the Walla-Wallas, the
Shaw Haptens, and the Cajouses; forming altogether about fifteen
hundred souls.[38] The Shaw Haptens and Cajouses, with part of the
Walla-Wallas, were armed with guns, and the others with bows and
arrows. The names of the principal chiefs were (in the order of the
tribes) Tummatapam, Quill-Quills-Tuck-a-Pesten, and Allowcatt. The
plains were literally covered with horses, of which there could not
have been less than four thousand in sight of the camp.
On the 13th, we prepared to be off as early as {128} possible; but
Tummatapam would not let us go till we had breakfasted on some fine
fresh salmon. He told us he would be at the forks before us. We then
embarked, and continued our voyage. The banks on both sides of the
river, above the Walla Walla, are low, and the country agreeable. After
passing three islands, we arrived at the forks late in the evening, and
there encamped for the night. The crowd of Indians assembled at that
place was immense, and among the rest was our friend Tummatapam. The
Indians smoked, danced, and chanted all night, as usual, while we kept
watch in turn.
On the 14th, early in the morning, what did we see waving triumphantly
in the air, at the confluence of the two great branches, but a British
flag, hoisted in the middle of the Indian camp, planted there by Mr.
Thompson, as he passed, with a written paper, laying claim to the
country north of the forks, as British territory.[39] This edict
interdicted the subjects of other states from trading north of that
station; and the Indians at first seemed to hint that we could not
proceed up the north branch, and were rather disposed to prevent us, by
saying, that Koo-Koo-Sint—meaning Mr. Thompson—had told them so,
pointing at the same time to the south branch, as if to intimate that we
might trade there. The chiefs likewise stated that Koo-Koo-Sint had
given them such and such things, and among others the British flag, that
they should see his commands respected; but that if Mr. Stuart would
give them {129} more than Koo-Koo-Sint had done, then he would be the
greater chief, and might go where he pleased.
The opposition of the Indians on the present occasion suggested to our
minds two things; first, that Mr. Thompson’s motive for leaving us at
the time he did was to turn the natives against us as he went along,
with the view of preventing us from getting further to the north, where
the North-West Company had posts of their own; and, secondly, that the
tribes about the forks would prefer our going up the south branch,
because then we would be in the midst of themselves. But it was our
interest then to defeat these schemes, and so completely did we upset
Mr. Thompson’s plans, that I verily believe had he to pass there again,
he would have some difficulty in effecting his purpose. Mr. Thompson’s
conduct reminds us of the husbandman and the snake in the fable. That he
who had been received so kindly, treated so generously, and furnished so
liberally by us, should have attempted to incite the Indians against us,
in our helpless and almost forlorn state, was conduct which the world
must condemn.
At the junction of the two great branches of the Columbia, the country
around is open and very pleasant, and seems to be a great resort, or
general rendezvous, for the Indians on all important occasions. The
south-east branch is known by the name of Lewis’s River, the north by
that of Clarke’s, in honour of the first adventurers.[40] They are both
large rivers, but the north branch is considerably the larger {130} of
the two. At the junction of their waters, Lewis’s River has a muddy or
milk-and-water appearance, and is warm; while Clarke’s River is bluish,
clear, and very cold. The difference of colour, like a dividing line
between the two waters, continues for miles below their junction. These
branches would seem, from a rough chart the Indians made us, to be of
nearly equal length from the forks—perhaps 700 miles—widening from each
other towards the mountains, where the distance between their sources
may be 900 miles.
All the tributary rivers entering between this and the falls, a distance
of 200 miles, are on the east side. The most important fishing place on
the Columbia, after the long narrows, is here, or rather a little below
this, towards the Umatallow. Yet although the salmon are very fine and
large, weighing from fifteen to forty pounds each, they are not taken in
the immense quantities which some other countries boast of. A Columbian
fisherman considers it a good day’s work to kill 100 salmon, whereas, at
the Copper-Mine River, a fisherman will kill 1000 a day; and a
Kamtschatkan, it is said, will kill, with the same means, 10,000 a day;
but if these countries can boast of numbers, the Columbia can boast of a
better quality and larger size.
The only European articles seen here with the Indians, and with which
they seemed perfectly contented, were guns, and here and there a kettle,
or a knife; and, indeed, the fewer the better. They {131} require but
little, and the more they get of our manufacture the more unhappy will
they be, as the possession of one article naturally creates a desire for
another, so that they are never satisfied.
In the afternoon the chiefs held a council, at which Mr. Stuart and
myself were present. It was then finally settled that we might proceed
up the north branch, and that at all times we might count upon their
friendship. This being done, Tummatapam came to our tent, smoked a pipe,
and took supper with us; and as he was going off, Mr. Stuart presented
him with a suit of his own clothes, which highly pleased the great man.
The Indians having retired, we set the watch for the night as usual.
Tummatapam is a middle-aged man, well featured, and of a very agreeable
countenance; and what is still better, he is, to all appearance, a good
man, was very kind to us, and rendered us considerable service; but the
other two chiefs appeared to take precedence of him in all matters of
importance.
On the 16th, we left the forks and proceeded up the north branch, which
to the eye is as broad and deep here as below the forks. About twelve
miles up, a small river entered on the west side, called Eyakema. The
landscape at the mouth of the Eyakema surpassed in picturesque beauty
anything we had yet seen.[41] Here three Walla Walla Indians overtook us
on horseback, and to our agreeable surprise delivered us a bag of shot
which we had left by mistake at our encampment of last night—a
convincing {132} proof that there is honesty among Indians; and if I
recollect well, a similar circumstance, attesting the probity of the
Walla-Wallas, occurred when Lewis and Clark passed there in 1805.[42] We
saw but few Indians to-day, and in the evening we encamped without a
night watch, for the first time since we left Astoria. General course,
north.
On the 17th, we were paddling along at daylight. On putting on shore to
breakfast, four Indians on horseback joined us. The moment they
alighted, one set about hobbling their horses, another to gather small
sticks, a third to make a fire, and the fourth to catch fish. For this
purpose, the fisherman cut off a bit of his leather shirt, about the
size of a small bean; then pulling out two or three hairs from his
horse’s tail for a line, tied the bit of leather to one end of it, in
place of a hook or fly. Thus prepared, he entered the river a little
way, sat down on a stone, and began throwing the small fish, three or
four inches long, on shore, just as fast as he pleased; and while he was
thus employed, another picked them up and threw them towards the fire,
while the third stuck them up round it in a circle, on small sticks; and
they were no sooner up than roasted. The fellows then sitting down,
swallowed them—heads, tails, bones, guts, fins, and all, in no time,
just as one would swallow the yolk of an egg. Now all this was but the
work of a few minutes; and before our man had his kettle ready for the
fire, the Indians were already eating their breakfast. {133} When the
fish had hold of the bit of wet leather, or bait, their teeth got
entangled in it, so as to give time to jerk them on shore, which was to
us a new mode of angling; fire produced by the friction of two bits of
wood was also a novelty; but what surprised us most of all, was the
regularity with which they proceeded, and the quickness of the whole
process, which actually took them less time to perform, than it has
taken me to note it down.
Soon after passing the Eyakema, a long range of marl hills interrupts
the view on the east side of the river. Here two dead children were
presented to us by their parents, in order that we might restore them to
life again, and a horse was offered us as the reward. We pitied their
ignorance, made them a small present, and told them to bury their dead.
As we advanced along the marl hills, the river inclined gradually to the
N.W. After a good day’s work, we stopped for the night near a small camp
of Indians, who were very friendly to us. Here and there were to be
seen, on small eminences, burial-places. The dead are interred, and a
few small sticks always point out the cemetery.
On the 18th, we reached the end of the marl hills. Just at this place
the river makes a bend right south for about ten miles, when a high and
rugged hill confines it on our left. Here the increasing rapidity of the
current gave us intimation that we were not far from some obstruction
ahead; and as we advanced a little under the brow of the hill, a strong
{134} and rocky rapid presented itself in the very bend of the river.
Having ascended it about half way, we encamped for the night.
Here a large concourse of Indians met us, and after several friendly
harangues, commenced the usual ceremony of smoking the pipe of peace:
after which they passed the night in dancing and singing. The person who
stood foremost in all these introductory ceremonies, was a tall, meagre,
middle-aged Indian, who attached himself very closely to us from the
first moment we saw him. He was called Ha-qui-laugh, which signifies
doctor, or rather priest; and as this personage will be frequently
mentioned in the sequel of our narrative, we have been thus particular
in describing him. We named the place “Priest’s Rapid,” after him.
The name of the tribe is Ska-moy-num-acks; they appear numerous and well
affected towards the whites. From the Priest’s Rapid, in a direct line
by land to the mouth of the Umatallow, the distance is very short, owing
to the great bend of the river between the two places.
The Priest’s Rapid is more than a mile in length, and is a dangerous and
intricate part of the navigation. The south side, although full of rocks
and small channels, through which the water rushes with great violence,
is the best to ascend.
On the 19th, early in the morning, we started, but found the channel so
frequently obstructed with rocks, whirlpools, and eddies, that we had
much difficulty {135} in making any headway. Crossing two small
portages, we at length, however, reached the head of it, and there
encamped for the night, after a very hard day’s labour, under a burning
sun. From the head of the Priest’s Rapid, the river opens again due
north.
The ground here is everywhere full, covered with flat stones, and
wherever these stones lie, and indeed elsewhere, the rattlesnakes are
very numerous. At times they may be heard hissing all around, so that we
had to keep a sharp look-out to avoid treading on them; but the natives
appeared to have no dread of them. As soon as one appears, the Indians
fix its head to the ground with a small forked stick round the neck,
then extracting the fang or poisonous part, they take the reptile into
their hands, put it into their bosoms, play with it, and let it go
again. When any one is bitten by them, the Indians tie a ligature above
the wounded part, scarify it, and then apply a certain herb to the
wound, which they say effectually cures it.
On the 20th we left the Priest’s Rapid, and proceeded against a strong
ripply current and some small rapids, for ten miles, when we reached two
lofty and conspicuous bluffs, situated directly opposite to each other,
like the piers of a gigantic gate, between which the river flowed
smoothly. Here we staid for the night, on some rocks infested with
innumerable rattlesnakes, which caused us not a little uneasiness during
the night. From this place due {136} east, the distance, in a direct
line, to the marl hills left on the 18th is very short. At the southern
angle of this flat is situated the Priest’s Rapid, which we left this
morning. Course, north.
Early on the 21st, we were again on the water. The country on the east
side is one boundless rough and barren plain; but on the west, the
rocks, after some distance, close in to the water’s edge, steep and
rugged, and the whole country behind is studded with towering heights
and rocks, giving the whole face of the country, in that direction, a
bleak, broken, and mountainous appearance. We saw but few natives
to-day, but those few were very friendly to us. Towards evening we put
ashore for the night, at a late hour. General course, north.
On the 22nd we left our camp early, and soon reached the foot of a very
intricate and dangerous rapid, so full of rocks that at some little
distance off the whole channel of the river, from side to side, seemed
to be barred across, and the stream to be divided into narrow channels,
whirlpools, and eddies, through which we had to pass. At the entrance of
one of these channels, a whirlpool caught one of the canoes, and after
whirling her round and round several times, threw her out of the channel
altogether into a chain of cascades, down which she went, sometimes the
stem, sometimes stern foremost. In this critical manner she descended to
the foot of the rapids, and at last stuck fast upon a rock, when, after
much trouble and danger, we succeeded in throwing {137} lines to the
men, and ultimately got all safe to shore. Here we encamped for the
night, and spent the remainder of the day in drying the goods, mending
the canoe, and examining the rapid.
On the 23rd we again commenced ascending, and found on the right-hand
side a neck of land, where we made a portage: from thence we towed
ourselves among the rocks, from one to another, until we reached the
head of the rapid, and a most gloomy and dismal rapid it was. Both sides
of the river at this place is rocky, and in no part of the Columbia is
the view more confined. A death-like gloom seems to hang over the glen.
This rapid, which is called Ke-waugh-tohen, after the tribe of Indians
inhabiting the place, who call themselves Ke-waugh-tohen-emachs, is
about thirty miles distant from the Priest’s Rapid.[43]
Having got clear of the rapid early in the day, we proceeded on a smooth
current for some little distance, when the river makes a short bend
nearly west. Here, on the south side, were observed two pillars on the
top of an eminence, standing erect side by side, which we named the Two
Sisters.[44] They proved to be of limestone, and at a little distance
very much resembled two human figures. From the Two Sisters, the river
turns to the north again, where once more we had a sight of the open
country. Nature, in these gloomy defiles just passed through, wears the
dreary aspect of eternal winter. On the west, the hills are clothed with
woods; but on the east side, the plains are bleak and barren. On a {138}
beautiful green spot, near a small Indian camp, we put ashore and passed
the night. Here the priest, for the reader must know he had still
followed us, introduced us to a friendly Indian, called Ma-chy-keu-etsa,
or the Walking Bear. This gray-headed, little, old man made us
comprehend that he had seen eighty-four winters or snows, as he
expressed himself—he looked very old, but was still active, and walked
well.
On the 24th we embarked early, and soon reached the mouth of Pisscow’s
river, a beautiful stream, which empties itself into the Columbia,
through a low valley, skirted on each side by high hills. Its mouth, in
the present high state of the water, is eighty yards broad.[45] Here the
Indians met us in great numbers, and vied with each other in acts of
kindness. Sopa, the chief, made us a present of two horses, and others
offered some for sale. We purchased four, giving for each one yard of
print and two yards of red gartering, which was so highly prized by them
that horses from all quarters were brought to us; but we declined buying
any more, not knowing what to do with them. Our six horses were now
delivered over in charge to the priest, who was to proceed with them by
land.
The higher we ascend the river, the more friendly and well disposed are
the aborigines towards us. Sopa invited us to pass the day with him,
which we did, and were highly gratified to see the natives hunt the wild
deer on horseback. They killed several {139} head of game close to our
camp, and we got a two days’ supply of venison from them. Sopa and his
tribe kept smoking, dancing, and singing the whole night, and at every
pause a loud and vociferous exclamation was uttered, denoting that they
were happy now. The whites had visited their land, poverty and misery
would no longer be known amongst them; we passed the night without
keeping watch.
On the 25th we left Pisscows, and proceeded on our voyage, passing
another small river, named Intyclook, and from thence to Oak Point, at
the foot of a steep crag, where we passed the night.[46]
Early in the morning of the 26th we left our encampment, but the stream
becoming more and more rapid, we advanced but slowly, and towards
evening had a good deal of pulling or hauling to ascend Whitehill rapid,
where the river, almost barred across by a ledge of low flat rocks,
makes several quick bends. The west side is mountainous and gloomy to
the water’s edge. Encamping at the head of the rapid, we passed a quiet
night, nor did a single Indian trouble us.[47] Here we saw the ibex, the
white musk goat, and several deer,[48] and supped on a half devoured
salmon, which a white-headed eagle had very opportunely taken out of the
river. Course, north.
On the 27th we started early, and about ten o’clock passed a small but
rapid stream, called by the natives Tsill-ane, which descended over the
rocks in white broken sheets.[49] The Indians told us it took {140} its
rise in a lake not far distant. From Tsill-ane, the hills on the west
side receded, and the river became smooth. Meeting with some Indians, we
put ashore, and the priest, with his horses, joining us soon after, we
passed the night together. Here we got some salmon, roots, and berries
from the Indians, which proved a very seasonable supply. The Indians
were very friendly, communicative, and intelligent.
On the 28th, after despatching the priest with his charge, we left our
camp and pursued our voyage against a strong current. The country on
both sides was open, and the banks of the river low, yet many rapid
places detained us long, and this detention was increased by a strong
head-wind, which so fatigued us that we halted early. On our way to-day,
we saw many deer and some beavers swimming about, but they were very
shy.
On the 29th we reached the foot of a short but strong rapid, where the
river abruptly veers round to east. Opposite to this rapid enters a
tributary stream, which the Indians call Buttle-mule-emauch, or
Salmon-fall River.[50] It is less than the Pisscows, shallow, and full
of stones, having its source near the foot of some lofty mountain not
far distant. After making a discharge, we got over the rapid, and
encamped for the night. Here the Indians assembled in friendly crowds,
according to their usual habit—presented us with abundance of salmon,
offered many horses for sale, and were in all other respects exceedingly
{141} kind. Here also they invited us to remain, to build, and to winter
among them: they said their country abounded in beaver, nor should we
want for provisions.
On the 30th, just as we were pushing off from the shore early in the
morning, a large band of Indians, all mounted on horseback, arrived at
our camp: we immediately put about to receive them, which was no sooner
done than harangue after harangue, smoking, and speechifying commenced;
and after one party, another arrived, so that we were absolutely obliged
to remain the whole day where we were.
From the strangers we learned that there were whites before us, but a
long way off. The Indians showed us a gun, tobacco, and some other
articles, which they said had been purchased from the whites ahead,
which confirmed the report. We therefore at once suspected that it must
be a party of the North-Westerns; and here Mr. Stuart, for the first
time, began to think of finding a suitable place to winter in.
On the 31st, we parted early from our friendly visitors, and shaping our
course in an easterly direction along the bend of the river, we pushed
on for about nine miles till we reached the mouth of a smooth stream
called Oakinacken, which we ascended for about two miles, leaving the
main Columbia for the first time, and then pitched our tents for the
night. A great concourse of Indians followed us all {142} day, and
encamped with us. After acquainting them with the object of our visit to
their country, they strongly urged us to settle among them. For some
time, however, Mr. Stuart resisted their pressing solicitations, chiefly
with the view of trying their sincerity; but, at last consenting, the
chiefs immediately held a council, and then pledged themselves to be
always our friends, to kill us plenty of beavers, to furnish us at all
times with provisions, and to ensure our protection and safety.
During this afternoon we observed, for the first time, about 20° above
the horizon, and almost due west, a very brilliant comet, with a tail
about 10° long. The Indians at once said it was placed there by the Good
Spirit—which they called Skom-malt-squisses—to announce to them the glad
tidings of our arrival; and the omen impressed them with a reverential
awe for us, implying that we had been sent to them by the Good Spirit,
or Great Mother of Life.
On the 1st of September, 1811, we embarked, and descending the
Oakinacken again, landed on a level spot, within half a mile of its
mouth. There we unloaded, took our canoes out of the water, and pitched
our tents—which operation concluded our long and irksome voyage of
forty-two days.
The mouth of the Oakinacken is situate 600 miles up the Columbia, and
enters it through a low level plain, a mile wide. This plain is
surrounded on all sides by high hills, so that in no direction does the
view extend far.
{143} The source of the Oakinacken is 280 miles due north, and in its
course south the stream runs through three lakes: near its junction with
the Columbia, it is hemmed in on the east by a sloping range of high
rocky hills, at the foot of which the two rivers meet. On the south bank
of the Oakinacken, half a mile from its mouth, was the site pitched upon
for the new establishment.
The general aspect of the surrounding country is barren and dreary. On
the west the hills are clothed with thick woods—a dense forest: on the
south and east, the scene is bare; but to the north the banks of the
river were lined with the willow and poplar, and the valley through
which it meanders presents a pleasing landscape.
Here it may be remarked, that all the tributary rivers from this place
to the falls, a distance of 200 miles, enter on the right-hand, or west,
side of the Columbia, having their sources in the lofty range of
mountains which terminates at the great narrows, as noticed by me on the
4th of August; so that from this point, or rather a few miles below
this, the Columbia runs south to the narrows; nor is the distance from
this place to the Pacific, in a direct line due west by land, far off.
If we can rely on Indian report, it is not 150 miles.[51]
Soon after the tent was pitched, the priest arrived with his horses all
safe. In the course of the day, Mr. Stuart missed his time-piece, which
had been stolen out of the tent: a general search was made, and {144}
the watch was found, by hearing it strike, although concealed under the
dry sand in the face of the bank. The theft was traced to the holy man,
the priest, which circumstance greatly lessened the high opinion we had
formed of him. On this discovery being made, he was paid for his
services and dismissed.
This little incident taught us that, however strong might be the
friendly professions of the natives, it was still necessary to guard
against their pilfering propensities.
In the account of our voyage, I have been silent as to the two strangers
who cast up at Astoria, and accompanied us from thence; but have noticed
already, that instead of being man and wife, as they at first gave us to
understand, they were in fact both women—and bold adventurous amazons
they were. In accompanying us, they sometimes shot ahead, and at other
times loitered behind, as suited their plans. The stories they gave out
among the unsuspecting and credulous natives, as they passed, were well
calculated to astonish as well as to attract attention. Brought up, as
they had been, near the whites—who rove, trap, and trade in the
wilderness—they were capable of practising all the arts of
well-instructed cheats; and, to effect their purpose the better, they
showed the Indians an old letter, which they made a handle of, and told
them that they had been sent by the great white chief, with a message to
apprize the natives in general that gifts, consisting of goods and
implements of all kinds, were forthwith {145} to be poured in upon them;
that the great white chief knew their wants, and was just about to
supply them with everything their hearts could desire; that the whites
had hitherto cheated the Indians, by selling goods in place of making
presents to them, as directed by the great white chief. These stories,
so agreeable to the Indian ear, were circulated far and wide; and not
only received as truths, but procured so much celebrity for the two
cheats, that they were the objects of attraction at every village and
camp on the way: nor could we, for a long time, account for the cordial
reception they met with from the natives, who loaded them for their good
tidings with the most valuable articles they possessed—horses, robes,
leather, and higuas; so that, on our arrival at Oakinacken, they had no
less than twenty-six horses, many of them loaded with the fruits of
their false reports.
As soon as we could get the distant tribes, who had come to welcome our
arrival, dismissed, we commenced erecting a small dwelling-house,
sixteen by twenty feet, chiefly constructed of drift wood, being more
handy and easier got than standing timber; but, while the building was
in a half-finished state, Messrs. Pillet and M‘Lennan, with two men,
were dispatched to Astoria, as had been agreed upon. Mr. Stuart, with
Montigny and the two remaining men, set off on a journey towards the
north, or head waters of the Oakinacken, intending to return in the
course of a month; while I was to remain alone at {146} the
establishment till Mr. Stuart’s return; my only civilized companion
being a little Spanish pet dog from Monterey, called Weasel.
Only picture to yourself, gentle reader, how I must have felt, alone in
this unhallowed wilderness, without friend or white man within hundreds
of miles of me, and surrounded by savages who had never seen a white man
before. Every day seemed a week, every night a month. I pined, I
languished, my head turned gray, and in a brief space ten years were
added to my age. Yet man is born to endure, and my only consolation was
in my Bible.
The first thing I did after my friends left me, was to patch up the
house a little, and put the few goods I had, so tempting to Indians,
into a kind of cellar which I made in the middle of the house. This
done, I set to in earnest to learn the Indian language, and wrote
vocabulary after vocabulary; and although the task was a hard one, I
soon found, from my progress, that perseverance would overcome many
difficulties.
The novelty of white men, and particularly of a white man alone, drew
crowds of inquisitive Indians about the place. I mixed with them, traded
with them, and at last began to talk with them, and from a constant
intercourse soon came to understand them; but still the evenings were
long, and the winter dreary. Every night before going to bed I primed my
gun and pistol anew, and barricaded the door of my lonely dwelling; and
the Indians, {147} friendly inclined, always withdrew from the house at
dusk; yet they had often alarms among themselves, and often gave me to
understand that enemies, or ill-disposed Indians, were constantly
lurking about; and whenever they began to whoop or yell in the night,
which they frequently did, I of course partook of the alarm.
One night I was suddenly awakened out of my sleep by the unusual noise
and continual barking of Weasel, running backwards and forwards through
the house. Half asleep, half awake, I felt greatly agitated and alarmed.
My faithful gun and pistol were at hand, for they lay always at my side
in bed; but then all was dark, I could see nothing, could hear nothing
but the barking of Weasel, which was continually growing louder and
louder. I then thought there must be somebody in the house; for I was
ready to put the worst construction on appearances. In this perplexing
dilemma I got my hand, with as little noise as possible, to the muzzle
of my gun, and gradually drawing out the ramrod, tried, with my right
arm stretched out, to stir up the embers, so that I might see; but here
again a new danger presented itself; I was exposing myself as a mark to
a ball or an arrow, without the chance of defending myself, for the
light would show me to the enemy before I could see my object; but there
was no alternative, and something must be done. Between hope and despair
I managed to stir up the ashes, so that I could see little Weasel
running {148} to and fro to the cellar-door. I concluded that the enemy
must be skulking in the cellar. I then, but not without difficulty, got
a candle lighted. Holding the candle in my left hand, I laid hold of my
pistol. With the lynx-eye and wary step of a cat ready to pounce on its
prey, I advanced rather obliquely, with my right arm stretched out at
full length holding the cocked pistol, till I got to the cellar-door,
the little dog all the while making a furious noise; when, lo! what was
there but a skunk sitting on a roll of tobacco! The shot blew it almost
to atoms, and so delicately perfumed everything in the house that I was
scarcely able to live in it for days afterwards; but that was not all,
the trivial incident was productive of very bad consequences. Several
hundreds of Indians being encamped about the place at the time, no
sooner did they see the light, or hear the shot, than they all rushed
into the house, thinking something serious had happened. So far,
however, there were no great harm; but when they beheld two rolls of
tobacco and two small bales of goods, it appeared such wealth in their
eyes that they could scarcely recover from the surprise. These tempting
articles I had endeavoured all along to keep as much as possible out of
their sight, and dealt them out with a sparing hand, and as long as the
Indians did not see them in bulk all went well; but after the
overwhelming exhibition of so much property there was no satisfying
them. They became importunate {149} and troublesome for some time, and
caused me much anxiety. The time fixed for Mr. Stuart’s return had now
arrived, and I most anxiously looked for him every hour. Often had I
reason to curse the intrusion of the skunk into my house. After some
time, however, things settled down again to their usual level, and good
order and good feelings were again renewed between us.
October had now passed by and November also, but no Mr. Stuart came, and
various reports were circulated by the Indians as to his fate; and I
myself now began to despair of his return. The delay of Mr. Stuart’s
party had a visible effect on the conduct of the Indians; they became
more bold, neglected their hunting, and loitered about the place, as if
in expectation of some sudden change. Strange Indians were every day
swelling the camp; they held councils, too; altogether they were a
changed people.
Seeing this unfavourable change fast spreading among the Indians, in
consequence of Mr. Stuart’s delay, I set about counteracting it. I
assembled all the chiefs and other great men, and after smoking the pipe
of friendship, told them not to be uneasy at Mr. Stuart’s absence; that
I could easily account for it; that finding the country rich in furs as
he went along, and the Indians peaceable and well disposed, he had most
probably gone off to the white men’s land for more goods, and would be
back early with a rich supply and many people, so that {150} all their
wants would be satisfied; that those who hunted best would get most;
that they had better exert themselves in hunting and procuring furs;
that their success would entitle them to the favour of Mr. Stuart and
the great white chief; and that I would not fail to represent their
conduct in the fairest light. This harangue had the desired effect. The
Indians set to hunting in earnest, and kept bringing in furs regularly,
and in other respects behaved exceedingly well during the whole of the
winter.
Thus I wished to make them believe what I did not believe myself,
because in my critical situation safety required it. But to return to
Mr. Stuart: December now was passed, and the new year of 1812 ushered
in; but still there was no account of the absent party. January passed,
and likewise February, but no Mr. Stuart; nor was it till the 22nd of
March that little Weasel announced, early in the morning, the approach
of strangers, and I was rejoiced to meet again at my lonely dwelling my
long-expected friends all safe and well.
During Mr. Stuart’s absence of 188 days I had procured 1550 beavers,
besides other peltries, worth in the Canton market 2,250_l._ sterling,
and which on an average stood the concern in but 5½_d._, a piece,
valuing the merchandize at sterling cost, or in round numbers 35_l._
sterling; a specimen of our trade among the Indians!
Here follows Mr. Stuart’s account of his journey: {151}—“After leaving
this place,” said he, “we bent our course up the Oakinacken, due north,
for upwards of 250 miles, till we reached its source; then crossing a
height of land fell upon Thompson’s River, or rather the south branch of
Fraser’s River,[52] after travelling for some time amongst a powerful
nation called the She Whaps. The snow fell while we were here in the
mountains, and precluded our immediate return; and after waiting for
fine weather the snows got so deep that we considered it hopeless to
attempt getting back, and, therefore, passed our time with the She Whaps
and other tribes in that quarter.[53] The Indians were numerous and well
disposed, and the country throughout abounds in beavers and all other
kinds of fur; and I have made arrangements to establish a trading post
there the ensuing winter. On the 26th of February we began our homeward
journey, and spent just twenty-five days on our way back. The distance
may be about 350 miles.”
{152} CHAPTER IX
Anxieties at Astoria—Indians depart—A schooner built—The _Dolly’s_
first trip—Criminal curiosity—The powder keg—The schooner condemned—
Mr. Astor’s cargoes—His policy—Remarks on the North-West coast—
Unwelcome rumours—Calpo’s statement—Rumours renewed—Hard cases—Joe
Lapierre—Kasiascall’s account of the _Tonquin_—Strange Indian—
Kasiascall’s conduct—His character—His design on Astoria—Remarks.
Having in the preceding chapters given a detailed account of our first
expedition into the interior, we propose in the present briefly to
notice the state of things at Astoria after our departure, and the fate
of the _Tonquin_.
No sooner had we left the establishment in July last, than the natives
became more and more hostile and annoying to the whites at Astoria, so
that under the impression of danger, all other labour being suspended,
the hands and minds of all were employed both day and night in the
construction and palisading of a stronghold for self-defence; but after
various alarms the savage horde, without making any hostile
demonstration more than usual, took their departure {153} from the
place, leaving the whites once more in the enjoyment of peace and
tranquillity.
In the fall of the year, a schooner, of twenty-five tons, to be named
the _Dolly_, the frame of which had come out in the _Tonquin_, was built
at Astoria. This vessel was intended only for the coast trade; but in
the present instance was placed as a guard-ship in front of the infant
establishment. She was found, however, to be too small for the coast
trade, and even unfit for tripping up and down the river; and from her
unwieldiness, not so safe as either open boats or canoes. The people
were also awkward and unskilful, as might be expected, having never been
accustomed to such duties. In the very first trip up the river, she had
well nigh fallen into the hands of the Indians: getting becalmed one day
a little above the mouth of the Wallamitte, with only four men on board,
curiosity drew a crowd of Indians about her, and once on board it was no
easy matter to get them off again. Curiosity led to theft: every one
began to help himself, and to take whatever he could lay his hands upon.
The pillage was begun, when the interpreter boldly and opportunely
called out that he was going instantly to set fire to a keg of powder,
and would blow all up into the air, unless they left the ship that
moment: the Indians got frightened; those who had canoes jumped into
them, made for shore with the hurry of despair; others jumped overboard,
and in an instant the vessel was cleared of her troublesome visitors,
and let go before {154} the current. It will be recollected that Mr.
Aikens, the officer who had come out to take command of the _Dolly_,
was, with several others, unfortunately drowned on the bar. Having made
two or three trips up the river, she was condemned, and laid aside
altogether as useless.
It is a true saying, that the wisest of us is not always wise. In
appointing so small a vessel as the _Dolly_ to a station so dangerous,
was manifested a total ignorance of the character of the natives on the
coast. Mr. Astor ought to have known that even well appointed large and
armed ships often ran great hazards there, some of that class having
been taken and pillaged by the hostile savages of that quarter.
The American traders, with their usual spirit of enterprize, had long
carried on a lucrative business on the north-west coast; they knew well,
and none knew better than Astor himself, what was necessary and suitable
for that market; but we had got nothing of this kind. Instead of guns,
we got old metal pots and gridirons; instead of beads and trinkets, we
got white cotton; and instead of blankets, molasses. In short, all the
useless trash and unsaleable trumpery which had been accumulating in his
shops and stores for half a century past, were swept together to fill
his Columbia ships. That these cargoes were insured need not be told;
sink or swim, his profits were sure.
But these we might have overlooked, had we not {155} felt aggrieved in
other matters closely connected with the general interest. The articles
of agreement entered into, and the promises of promotion held out, when
the company was formed, were violated, and that without a blush, by the
very man at the head of the concern,—that man who held its destinies in
his hand. This perhaps may be rendered a little more intelligent, by
stating, that according to the articles of co-partnership made at New
York, two of the clerks were to be promoted to an interest in the
concern, or, in other words, to become partners, after two years’
service, and on that express condition they joined the enterprize; but
what will the reader say, or the world think, when it is told that a
young man who had never seen the country was, by a dash of the pen, put
over their heads, and this young man was no other than Mr. Astor’s
nephew. Although a little out of place, we shall just mention another
circumstance which may show how deeply and how sincerely Mr. Astor was
interested in the success and prosperity of his Columbia colony. When
the war broke out between Great Britain and the United States, the
Boston merchants sent out, at a great expense, intelligence of the event
to their shipping on the north-west coast, and applied to Astor for his
quota of that expense, as he too had people and property there at stake.
What was his reply? “Let the United States’ flag protect them.” Need it
then be told that we were left to shift for ourselves. So much did Mr.
Astor care about our safety.
{156} But from this disagreeable subject we turn to another still more
so, and that is the fate of the unfortunate _Tonquin_, which ship, it
will be remembered, left Astoria in June last.
On the 5th of August, Calpo,[54] a friendly Chinook Indian, informed
M‘Dougall that it was current among the Indians that the _Tonquin_ had
been destroyed by the natives along the coast, and this was the first
tidings the Astorians had of her fate: the report had spread quickly and
widely, although we remained ignorant of the fact; for not many days
after we had arrived at Oakinacken, a party of Indians reached that
place, on their return from the Great Salt Lake, as they called it, and
gave us to understand by signs and gestures that a large ship, with
white people in it, had been blown up on the water; and, in order the
better to make us comprehend the subject, they threw up their arms in
the air, blew with the mouth, and made the wild grimace of despair, to
signify the explosion. On our part all was conjecture and suspense,
unwilling as we were to believe what we did not wish to be true; but the
more we reflected, the more we were disposed to believe the report, from
the well-known fact that Mr. Astor’s choice of a captain was most
unfortunate: in this instance, he seemed to have wanted his usual
sagacity; and this was the first rock on which his grand enterprize had
split. A man who could deliberately leave, as we have already seen, nine
of his fellow-creatures to perish on the Falkland Islands; {157} who
could throw one of his sailors overboard, at the Island of Woahoo; who
could offer the Indians at Owhyhee a reward for the head of one of his
own officers; who could force from his ship four of his men in a storm,
to perish at the mouth of the Columbia; who could witness unmoved, from
his own deck, three of his men left to perish on Columbia bar; and, to
cap the climax of cruelty, we might, however disagreeable, mention
another circumstance. On the 11th of February, 1811, while sailing on
the high seas, a man named Joe Lapierre fell from the mainmast-head
overboard, the ship at the time going eight knots—a boat was instantly
lowered: in the mean time a hen-coop, binnacle, and some boards were
thrown into the water, but he failed to get hold of anything, and soon
fell a good mile or more astern. When picked up he was in a state of
insensibility, and the crew made all possible haste to reach the ship;
but, as they were approaching, the captain, in a peremptory tone,
ordered them back to pick up the hen-coop, binnacle, and boards, before
they came alongside, or put the man on board. The boat obeyed orders,
went back again, picked up all, and returned to the ship at the end of
fifty-two minutes—yet life was not quite extinct, for, after applying
the usual remedies of salt, warm blankets, and friction, Lapierre
revived.
But to return to the subject of Calpo’s report—the conduct of Captain
Thorn throughout, coupled with the fact of his having left Astoria
without a {158} single officer on board his ship, led strongly to the
conclusion that all was not right, and that the reports in circulation
might ultimately prove true. The facts above stated I myself witnessed—
fifty others witnessed them also: they cannot be denied nor gainsaid—yet
such was the man who enjoyed Mr. Astor’s unbounded confidence.
Various and conflicting were the reports that had from time to time
reached Astoria respecting the fate of the _Tonquin_; yet all agreed in
the main point—that is, in her destruction. She had also passed, by some
months, the time of her expected return, so that there remained but
little doubt of her fate; yet, subsequently to Calpo’s statement,
nothing transpired to add to our fears for a month or two, although
during that time various individuals and parties had been employed to
trace out the true story of her fate.
On the 12th of October, however, three Chinooks were fitted out, and set
off with the determination not to return until they should reach the
place where it was reported she had been cut off, or obtain certain
accounts respecting her. These men had not, however, proceeded far,
before they were met by a strange Indian, on his way to Astoria with the
unwelcome news of the _Tonquin’s_ tragical end: so the Chinooks turned
about, and accompanied the stranger back to Astoria, where they arrived
on the eighth day; and here the strange Indian made his report, which we
shall give in his own words:—[55]
{159} “My name is Kasiascall, but the Chinooks and other Indians
hereabout call me Lamazu. I belong to the Wick-a-nook tribe of Indians
near Nootka Sound. I have often been on board ships. The whites call me
Jack. I understand most of the languages that are spoken along the
coast. I can speak some Chinook, too. I have been twice at this place
before; once by land and once by sea. I saw the ship _Tonquin_; Captain
Thorn was her commander. I went on board of her at Woody Point harbour
in June last. We remained there for two days. We then sailed for
Vancouver’s Island; and just as we had got to it, a gale of wind drove
us to sea, and it was three days before we got back again. The fourth
morning we cast anchor in Eyuck Whoola, Newcetu Bay. There we remained
for some days; Indians going and coming, but not much trade. One day the
Indians came on board in great numbers, but did not trade much, although
they had plenty of skins. The prices offered did not please the Indians;
so they carried back their furs again. The day following the chiefs came
on board, and as usual asked the captain to show them such and such
things, and state the lowest price, which he accordingly did. They did
not, however, trade, but pressed the captain for presents, which he
refused. The chiefs left the ship displeased at what they called stingy
conduct in the captain, as they were accustomed to receive trifling
presents from the traders on the coast.
“In the evening of the same day, Mr. M‘Kay and {160} myself went on
shore, and were well received by the chiefs, and saw a great many
sea-otter skins with the Indians. We both returned to the ship the same
evening. Next day the Indians came off to trade in great numbers. On
their coming alongside, the captain ordered the boarding-netting to be
put up round the ship, and would not allow more than ten on board at a
time; but just as the trade had commenced, an Indian was detected
cutting the boarding-netting with a knife in order to get on board. On
being detected, he instantly jumped into one of the canoes which were
alongside, and made his escape. The captain then, turning round, bade
the chiefs to call him back. The chiefs smiled and said nothing, which
irritated the captain, and he immediately laid hold of two of the
chiefs, and threatened to hang them up unless they caused the delinquent
to be brought back to be punished. The moment the chiefs were seized,
all the Indians fled from the ship in consternation. The chiefs were
kept on board all night with a guard over them. Food was offered them,
but they would neither eat nor drink. Next day, however, the offender
was brought to the ship and delivered up, when the captain ordered him
to be stripped and tied up, but did not flog him. He was then dismissed.
The chiefs were also liberated, and left the ship, refusing with disdain
a present that was offered them, and vowing vengeance on the whites for
the insult received.
“Next day not an Indian came to the ship; but in {161} the afternoon an
old chief sent for Mr. M‘Kay and myself to go to his lodge. We did so,
and were very kindly treated. Mr. M‘Kay was a great favourite among the
Indians; and I have no doubt that the plot for destroying the ship was
at this time fully arranged, and that it was intended, if possible, to
save M‘Kay’s life in the general massacre. But not finding this
practicable without the risk of discovery, he, as we shall soon learn,
fell with the rest. When we were on shore we saw the chiefs, and they
seemed all in good humour, and asked me if the captain was still angry;
and on being assured that they would be well treated and kindly received
by him if they went on board, they appeared highly pleased, and promised
to go and trade the following day. Mr. M‘Kay returned to the ship that
evening, but I remained on shore till the next morning. When I got on
board, Mr. M‘Kay was walking backwards and forwards on deck in rather a
gloomy mood, and considerably excited; himself and the captain having,
as he told me, had some angry words between them respecting the two
chiefs who had been kept prisoners on board, which was sorely against
M‘Kay’s will.
“As soon as I got on deck, he called me to him. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘are
the Indians coming to trade to-day?’ I said, ‘They are.’ ‘I wish they
would not come,’ said he again; adding, ‘I am afraid there is an
under-current at work. After the captain’s late conduct to the chiefs, I
do not like so sudden, so flattering a change. There is treachery in the
case, or they {162} differ from all other Indians I ever knew. I have
told the captain so—I have also suggested that all hands should be on
the alert when the Indians are here; but he ridicules the suggestion as
groundless. So let him have his own way.’ M‘Kay then asked me my
opinion. I told him it would be well to have the netting up. He then bid
me go to the captain, and I went; but before I could speak to him, he
called out, ‘Well, Kas, are the Indians coming to-day?’ I said I thought
so. He then asked—‘Are the chiefs in good humour yet?’ I said I never
saw them in better humour. ‘I humbled the fellows a little; they’ll not
be so saucy now; and we will get on much better,’ said the captain. At
this moment M‘Kay joined us, and repeated to the captain what he had
just stated to me. The captain laughed; observing to M‘Kay, ‘You pretend
to know a great deal about the Indian character: you know nothing at
all.’ And so the conversation dropt.
“Mr. M‘Kay’s anxiety and perturbation of mind was increased by the
manner in which the captain treated his advice; and having, to all
appearance, a presentiment of what was brooding among the Indians, he
refused going to breakfast that morning, put two pair of pistols in his
pockets, and sat down on the larboard side of the quarter-deck in a
pensive mood. In a short time afterwards, the Indians began to flock
about the ship, both men and women, in great crowds, with their furs;
and certainly I myself thought that there was not the least danger,
particularly as the {163} women accompanied the men to trade; but I was
surprised that the captain did not put the netting up. It was the first
time I ever saw a ship trade there without adopting that precaution. As
soon as the Indians arrived, the captain, relying no doubt on the
apparent reconciliation which had taken place between M‘Kay and the
chiefs on shore, and wishing perhaps to atone for the insult he had
offered the latter, flew from one extreme to the other, receiving them
with open arms, and admitting them on board without reserve, and without
the usual precautions. The trade went on briskly, and at the captain’s
own prices. The Indians throwing the goods received into the canoes,
which were alongside, with the women in them; but in doing so, they
managed to conceal their knives about their persons, which circumstance
was noticed by one of the men aloft, then by myself, and we warned the
captain of it; but he treated the suggestions, as usual, with a smile of
contempt, and no more was said about it; but in a moment or two
afterwards, the captain began to suspect something himself, and was in
the act of calling Mr. M‘Kay to him, when the Indians in an instant
raised the hideous yell of death, which echoed from stem to stern of the
devoted ship, the women in the canoes immediately pushed off, and the
massacre began. The conflict was bloody but short. The savages, with
their naked knives and horrid yells, rushed on the unsuspecting and
defenceless whites, who were dispersed all over the ship, and in five
{164} minutes’ time the vessel was their own. M‘Kay was the first man
who fell, he shot one Indian, but was instantly killed and thrown
overboard, and so sudden was the surprise that the captain had scarcely
time to draw from his pocket a clasp-knife, with which he defended
himself desperately, killed two, and wounded several more, till at last
he fell dead in the crowd. The last man I saw alive was Stephen Weeks,
the armourer. In the midst of the carnage, I leapt overboard, as did
several other Indians, and we were taken up by the women in the canoes,
who were yelling, whooping, and crying like so many fiends about the
ship; but before I had got two gun-shots from the ship, and not ten
minutes after I had left her, she blew up in the air with a fearful
explosion, filling the whole place with broken fragments and mutilated
bodies. The sight was terrific and overwhelming. Weeks must have been
the man who blew up the ship, and by that awful act of revenge, one
hundred and seventy-five Indians perished, and some of the canoes,
although at a great distance off, had a narrow escape. The melancholy
and fatal catastrophe spread desolation, lamentation, and terror
throughout the whole tribe.
“Scarcely anything belonging to the ship was saved by the Indians, and
so terrifying was the effect, so awful the scene, when two other ships
passed there soon afterwards, not an Indian would venture to go near
them. I knew that the _Tonquin_ belonged to the whites at Columbia, I
was eighteen days on {165} board of her, and had started long ago with
the tidings of her tragical end; but falling sick, I was prevented from
coming sooner. There might have been twenty-four days between the time
the _Tonquin_ left the Columbia and her destruction by the Indians.”
Thus ended the sad story of Kasiascall, a story which we at the time
believed to be perfectly true; but not many days after, some Indians
belonging to the same quarter reached Astoria also, and gave a somewhat
different version of the affair, particularly as regarded Kasiascall
himself, and what convinced us that he had acted a treacherous part, was
the fact, that on hearing that the other Indians were coming, he
immediately absconded, and we saw him no more. These Indians confirmed
Kasiascall’s story in every respect as regarded the destruction of the
ill-fated _Tonquin_; but persisted in assuring us that he was not on
board at the time, and that he was privy to the whole plot. They said,
that before that affair he had caused the death of four white men, and
that, early in the morning of the _Tonquin’s_ fatal day, he had induced
the captain, through some plausible artifice, to send a boat with six
men to shore, and that neither he nor the six men were on board at the
time of her destruction. That in the evening of the same day, Kasiascall
himself headed the party who went, and brought the six unfortunate men,
after the ship was blown up, to the Indian camp, where they were first
tortured with savage cruelty, and then all massacred in the most inhuman
manner.
{166} We have now brought the tragical story of the fated _Tonquin_
nearly to a close. Wise men profit by experience, listen to counsel, and
yield to circumstances. Captain Thorn, on the contrary, looked upon
every suggestion as an attempt to dictate to him, despised counsel, and
treated advice with contempt. Had he profited either by the errors or
misfortunes of others, or had he listened to the dictates of common
prudence, and used the means he had at command, the savages along the
coast, numerous and hostile as they are, would never have obtained the
mastery, nor taken the _Tonquin_. We lament the fate of her unfortunate
crew and commander. Captain Thorn had many good qualities—was brave, had
the manners of a gentleman, and was an able and experienced seaman; but
his temper was cruel and overbearing,—and his fate verifies the sacred
decree, that “he shall have judgment without mercy, that hath showed no
mercy.”
The destruction of the _Tonquin_ left Astoria defenceless and almost
hopeless, and might have proved fatal to the enterprise; but, whilst
these scenes were yet fresh in the minds of the Astorians, and augmented
the gloom occasioned by their harassing and perilous situation, the
timely arrival of M‘Kenzie, with the first division of Mr. Hunt’s party,
overland, made them for a moment forget that their friends of the
_Tonquin_ were no more. This seasonable addition to their numbers, with
the daily expectation of others—for the main party had not yet arrived—
{167} hushed, for a time, the threatening tone of the Indians, and
relieved the whites from that incessant watching which prudence and a
regard to safety obliged them to adopt, ever since the first rumour of
the _Tonquin’s_ fate had reached their ears. The subject of the land
expedition we shall reserve for the next chapter, concluding the present
with a few cursory observations on the conduct of that perfidious
wretch, Kasiascall.
After absconding from Astoria, as already stated, he lurked for some
time among the neighbouring tribes, trying to stir them up to betray the
whites, and take Astoria. He had laid several plans for the purpose;
and, being desperate and daring himself, he had, on the 5th of December,
with twenty or thirty others of like character, approached the
establishment on the south side, through the woods, till within sight of
the back gate, with the intention of examining the place, in order to
make the attack sure the following morning; but, providentially, his
treason was baulked by one of those fortunate incidents which sometimes
intervene to save the innocent; for, that very evening, the Astorians,
as good luck would have it, had collected some Indians, who, with the
whites, made a display at the back gate, with the intention of
proceeding next morning to the chase, to hunt up some wild hogs which
were roaming at large in the woods; and were, as we were well informed
afterwards, seen by Kasiascall and his party as they were making their
approaches {168} to the fort. They, supposing from the armed array that
their own atrocious designs had been discovered, immediately took to
flight, leaving, in the hurry, a gun, a quiver full of arrows, and some
other things behind; so that, in all probability, to this circumstance
alone the place owed its preservation, and the whites their lives. How
precarious is the life of an Indian trader, if we take into
consideration the habits of the country and the spirit of the people he
has to live among—a people who feel no remorse in using the instruments
of death—a people who delight in perfidy! Perfidy is the system of
savages, treachery and cunning the instruments of their power, and
cruelty and bloodshed the policy of their country.
{169} CHAPTER X[56]
Land expedition—Hunt and M‘Kenzie—Montreal recruits—La Chine—Devout
farewell—Mackina in 1810—Fur traders of the South—Frolic parties—
Comparison between the South and North—Arrival at St. Louis—
Recruiting service—Yankees—Canoemen—Delays at St. Louis—
Difficulties—Mr. Miller—The Missouri—Canadian voyageurs—Winter
quarters—Mr. Hunt revisits St. Louis—M‘Kenzie—Mr. Astor’s policy—The
Yankees desert—Winter quarters broken up—Rocky Mountains—Pilot
knobs—New scenes—Columbia River—The horses abandoned—Take to canoes—
The canoes abandoned—Trappers—Mr. Miller—Party on foot—Hardships—
Starvation—Conflicting councils—Gloomy prospects—Property _en
cache_—The party divided—Three men perish—M‘Kenzie’s speech—He
arrives at Astoria—Mr. Crooks and others left behind—Mr. Hunt’s
arrival at Astoria—Voyage concluded.
We have already mentioned the departure of the land expedition from
Montreal, and now propose to follow up its history, through its zig-zag
windings and perils, to Columbia, the place of its destination.
The gentleman appointed to head the adventurous party was Mr. Wilson
Price Hunt, a citizen of the United States—a person every way qualified
for the arduous undertaking. Had Mr. Astor been as fortunate {170} in
his choice of a marine commander to conduct his expedition by sea as he
was in that of his land expedition, a very different result would have
ensued.
Mr. Hunt was also accompanied on this journey by Mr. Donald M‘Kenzie,
another partner, who had formerly been in the service of the North-West
Company. This gentleman had already acquired great experience in the
Indian countries, was bold, robust, and peculiarly qualified to lead
Canadian voyageurs through thick and thin. Mr. Astor placed great
confidence in his abilities, perseverance, and prudence. Under,
therefore, two such leaders as Hunt and M‘Kenzie, he had, in fact,
everything to hope and little to fear.
The trumpet of enterprize was, therefore, no sooner sounded at the
office of the new company for recruits, than crowds of blustering
voyageurs, of all grades and qualities, flocked thither to enroll
themselves under the banner of this grand undertaking. Money was
tempting, and Jean Baptiste has ever been fond of novelty. The list of
adventurers therefore might have been filled up in an hour; but a
different line was pursued. M‘Kenzie was too sagacious and wary to be
taken in by appearances; he drew a line of distinction, and selected
those only who had already given proofs of capacity. The picking and
choosing system, however, gave great offence to many; consequently,
those who had been rejected put every iron in the fire, out of pure
spite, to discourage those {171} already engaged, or about to engage;
and the money once expended, little persuasion was required to effect
their purpose.
Mr. M‘Kenzie, from his knowledge of the Canadian character, wished to
engage at once a sufficient number for the enterprize, so that no
subsequent delays might interrupt their progress; and this was generally
allowed to be the better plan, as we shall have occasion to notice
hereafter. But Mr. Hunt—grave, steady, and straightforward, himself—
detested the volatile gaiety and ever-changing character of the Canadian
voyageurs, and gave a decided preference to Americans, and the mongrel
Creoles of the south, who, as he alleged, might be got on the route,
either at Mackina or St. Louis; and this was the plan ultimately
adopted: so that no more Canadian voyageurs were taken than were barely
sufficient to man one large canoe. These men, however, were voyageurs of
the first class, whose well-tried experience on the lakes, rivers, and
frozen regions of the north, made them anticipate the pleasures of a
holiday voyage on the waters of the south—hardy veterans, who thought of
nothing but to toil and obey. Such were the men—second to no canoe men
in Canada—that joined the expedition at Montreal. The party now
assembled in high spirits, and after bidding a dozen adieux to their
friends and companions, embarked at La Chine on the 5th of July. On
arriving at St. Anne’s, the devout voyageurs, according to usual custom,
expressed a wish to go on shore to make {172} their vows at the holy
shrine before leaving the island. There, prostrated on the ground, they
received the priest’s benediction; then embarking, with pipes and song,
hied their way up the Ottawa or Grand River for Mackina, which place
they reached on the seventeenth day.
Michilimackina, or Mackinaw, was their first resting-place after leaving
La Chine; and here they had again to recommence the recruiting service,
as at Montreal—with this difference, however, that the Montreal men are
expert canoe men, the Mackina men expert bottle-men. That Canadians in
general drink, and sometimes even to excess, must be admitted; but to
see drunkenness and debauchery, with all their concomitant vices,
carried on systematically, it is necessary to see Mackina.
Here Hunt and M‘Kenzie in vain sought recruits, at least such as would
suit their purpose; for in the morning they were found drinking, at noon
drunk, in the evening dead drunk, and in the night seldom sober.
Hogarth’s drunkards in Gin Lane and Beer Alley were nothing compared to
the drunkards of Mackina at this time. Every nook and corner in the
whole island swarmed, at all hours of the day and night, with motley
groups of uproarious tipplers and whisky-hunters. Mackina at this time
resembled a great bedlam, the frantic inmates running to and fro in wild
forgetfulness; so that Mr. Hunt, after spending several weeks, could
only pick up a few disorderly Canadians, already ruined in mind and
body; whilst {173} the cross-breeds and Yankees kept aloof, viewing the
expedition, as an army views a forlorn hope, as destined to destruction.
Mr. Hunt now saw and confessed his error in not taking M‘Kenzie’s
salutary advice to engage more voyageurs at Montreal, but regretted most
of all the precious time they had lost to no purpose at Mackina, and
therefore set about leaving it as soon as possible.
But before we take our leave of a place so noted for gallantry and
gossiping, we may observe that it was, at the date of this narrative,
the chief rendezvous of the Mackina Fur Company, and a thousand other
petty associations of trappers and adventurers, all in some way or other
connected with the Indian trade. Here then Mackina was the great
outfitting mart of the south—the centre and headquarters of all those
adventurers who frequented the Mississippi and Missouri waters in search
of furs and peltries.
These different parties visit Mackina but once a year, and on these
occasions make up for their dangers and privations among the Indians by
rioting, carousing, drinking, and spending all their gains in a few
weeks, sometimes in a few days; and then they return again to the
Indians and the wilderness. In this manner these dissolute spendthrifts
spin out, in feasting and debauchery, a miserable existence, neither
fearing God nor regarding man, till the knife of the savage, or some
other violent death, despatches them unpitied.
In the fur trade of the north many have attained {174} to a competency,
not a few to independence, and many have realized fortunes after a
servitude of years; but in the slippery and ruinous traffic of the south
many fortunes have been lost, and an awful sacrifice made of human life;
so that of all the adventurers engaged, for half a century past, in the
fur trade of that licentious quarter, few, very few indeed, ever left it
with even a bare competency.
At Mackina, Mr. Crooks, formerly a trader on the Missouri, joined the
expedition as a partner. The odds-and-ends being now put together, and
all ready for a start, the expedition left Mackina on the 12th of
August, and crossing over the lake to Green Bay, proceeded up Fox River,
then down to Prairie du Chien by the Wisconsin,[57] and from thence
drifted down the great Mississippi to St. Louis, where they landed on
the 3rd of September.
No sooner had the St. Louis papers announced the arrival of Astor’s
expedition at that place, than the rendezvous of Hunt and M‘Kenzie
teemed with visitors of all grades, anxious to enlist in the new
company. Pleased with the flattering prospect of soon completing their
number, they commenced selecting such countenances as bespoke health and
vigour; but, alas! few of that description was to be found in the crowd.
The motley group that presented itself could boast of but few vigorous
and efficient hands, being generally little better, if not decidedly
worse, than those lounging about the streets of Mackina, a {175} medley
of French Creoles, old and worn-out Canadians, Spanish renegades, with a
mixture of Indians and Indian half-breeds, enervated by indolence,
debauchery, and a warm climate. Here, again, Mr. Hunt’s thoughts turned
to Canada; and in the bitterness of disappointment he was heard to say,
“No place like Montreal for hardy and expert voyageurs!” Several
Yankees, however, sleek and tall as the pines of the forest, engaged as
hunters and trappers; but here again another difficulty presented
itself, the sapient Yankees, accustomed to the good things of St. Louis,
must have their dainties, their tea, their coffee, and their grog. This
caused a jealousy; the Canadians, who lived on the usual coarse fare of
the north, began to complain, and insisted on receiving the same
treatment which the hunters and trappers had,—such is the force of
example; and dissatisfaction once raised is not so easily allayed again.
To adjust these differences, Mr. Hunt adopted an expedient which, in
place of proving a remedy, rather augmented the evil. Thinking it
easier, or at all events cheaper, to reduce his own countrymen, being
but few in number, to the Canadian pot-luck, rather than pamper Jean
Baptiste with luxurious notions, he issued his orders accordingly, that
all denominations should fare alike; but Jonathan was not to be told
what he was to eat, nor what he was to drink. Finding, however, Mr. Hunt
determined to enforce the order, the new comers shouldered their rifles
to a man, and, in the {176} true spirit of Yankee independence, marched
off with their advance in their pockets, and the expedition saw them no
more; and not only that, but they raised such a hue-and-cry against the
parsimonious conduct of the new enterprize, that not a man could be
afterwards got to engage; and this state of things the other traders,
and particularly the Missouri Fur Company, turned to their advantage, by
representing to the people the horrors, the dangers, and privations that
awaited our adventurous friends; that if they were fortunate enough to
escape being scalped by the Indians, they would assuredly be doomed,
like Nebuchadnezzar, to eat grass, and never would return to tell the
sad tale of their destruction.
While Mr. Hunt’s affairs thus seemed almost at a stand, a new impulse
was given to the expedition by the timely acquisition of another
partner, a Mr. Miller, who had been a trader up the Missouri, had
considerable experience among Indians along the route to be followed,
and was a great favourite with the people at St. Louis. As soon,
therefore, as Mr. Miller joined the expedition, people from all quarters
began again to enlist under the banner of the new company. Canoemen,
hunters, trappers, and interpreters were no longer wanting, and the
number of each being completed, the expedition left St. Louis, after a
vexatious delay of forty-eight days.
On the 21st of October the expedition started {177} in three boats, and
soon after reached the mouth of the Missouri, up which the party
proceeded. Our Canadian voyageurs were now somewhat out of their usual
element. Boats and oars, the mode of navigating the great rivers of the
south, were new to men who had been brought up to the paddle, the
cheering song, and the bark canoe of the north. They detested the heavy
and languid drag of a Mississippi boat, and sighed for the paddle and
song of former days. They soon, however, became expert at the oar, and
Mr. Hunt, who was somewhat partial to the south men, was forced to
acknowledge that their merits were not to be compared to the steady,
persevering, habits of the men of the north. Yet the progress was but
slow, scarcely averaging twenty-one miles a day, so that it was the 16th
of November before they reached the Nodowa, a distance of only 450 miles
up the Missouri, and there, from the coldness of the weather and
lateness of the season, they were obliged to winter.
Mr. M‘Kenzie, accustomed, during the days of the North-West, to start
from Montreal and reach the mouth of Columbia river, or Great Bear’s
Lake, the same season, did not much like this slow travelling, and had
his advice been acted on, the expedition, in place of wintering at the
Nodowa, would have wintered on the waters of the Columbia.
Here it was that Mr. M‘Lellan, another partner, joined the expedition.
This gentleman was one of the first shots in America, nothing could
escape his {178} keen eye and steady hand; hardy, enterprizing, and
brave as a lion: on the whole, he was considered a great acquisition to
the party.
After settling the winter quarters, Mr. Hunt returned to St. Louis,
which place he reached on the 20th of January, 1811, and before he
joined his wintering friends at the Nodowa River again, it was the 17th
of April.
During Mr. Hunt’s visit at St. Louis, orders arrived, among other
instructions, from Mr. Astor, that the sole command of the expedition
should be vested in him alone, although hitherto it was intrusted to
Hunt and M‘Kenzie. This underhand proceeding of Astor’s gave umbrage to
the other partners, and particularly to M‘Kenzie, and added new
difficulties to Mr. Hunt’s situation, by throwing the whole
responsibility of the enterprize upon him alone; but such was Astor,
that no confidence could be placed in his arrangements; his measures,
like the wind, were ever changing.
During Mr. Hunt’s absence, several changes had taken place in the
wintering camp; some of the men had deserted, others again, under
various pretences shook themselves clear of the ill-omened undertaking,
and even after Mr. Hunt’s return, several more turned their backs and
walked off, without the least compunction, and all those who so
unceremoniously and treacherously left the expedition, excepting one,
were Americans. Mr. Hunt, in his eagerness to press forward, was
perfectly worn out with anxiety.
{179} On the 22d of April, however, the adventurers broke up their camp,
or winter quarters, and bent their course up the strong and rapid
current of the Missouri, no less formidable in itself, than dangerous on
account of the numerous savage hordes that infest its banks.
On the 14th of September the party reached the heights of the Rocky
Mountains, safe and in good spirits, after many hairbreadth escapes, and
drew near to the Pilot Knobs, or _Trois Tetons_, that great landmark, so
singular and conspicuous, near which is the romantic source of Louis
River, or the great south branch of the Columbia.[58] From the Nodowa to
the Pilot Knobs occupied them one hundred and forty-five days.
The Pilot Knobs, so cheering to our wayfaring friends, proved but the
beginning of their real troubles: for, after various projects and plans,
it was resolved, on the 18th of October, to abandon their hitherto
serviceable and trusty horses, and they were, therefore, turned loose,
to the number of one hundred and eighty, and the party embarking in
fifteen crazy and frail canoes, undertook to descend the rugged and
boiling channels of the head waters of the great south branch of the
Columbia. Having proceeded about 350 miles, they were at last compelled
to abandon the project of navigating these bold and dangerous waters;
but not before one of their best steersmen was drowned, and they were
{180} convinced as to the impracticability of proceeding by water.
At this time, two small and separate parties, consisting in all of
twelve persons, were fitted out as trappers to hunt the beaver, and, to
the astonishment of all, Mr. Miller, in one of his headstrong fits,
turned his back on the expedition abruptly, and became a trapper also.
The canoes being now abandoned altogether, various plans were thought
of; two or three parties were sent out as scouts, to try and fall in
with Indians, provisions being now so scarce that the most gloomy
apprehensions were entertained. These parties, however, saw but few
Indians, and those few were destitute themselves. At this time a
starving dog that could hardly crawl along was a feast to our people,
and even the putrid and rotten skins of animals were resorted to in
order to sustain life. Whilst these parties were exhausting themselves
to little or no purpose, another party attempted to recover the horses,
which had been so thoughtlessly and imprudently left behind; but they
returned unsuccessful, after a week’s trial and hunger. A fifth party
was despatched ahead to explore the river, and they also returned with
the most gloomy presage—all failed, and all fell back again on the
cheerless camp, to augment the general despondency; the party now, as a
last resource, set about depositing and securing the goods and baggage,
by putting them in caches’, this done, the party finally separated {181}
into four bands, each headed by a partner, and the object of one and all
was, to reach the mouth of the Columbia by the best and shortest way.
That part of the country where they were was destitute of game, and the
provisions of the whole party taken together were scarcely enough for
two days’ journey. At that season of the year, the Indians retire to the
distant mountains, and leave the river till the return of spring, which
accounts for their absence at this time.
We have already stated that one man, named Clappine, had been drowned—
another of the name of Prevost had become deranged through starvation,
and drowned himself—and a third, named Carrier, lingered behind and
perished; these fatal disasters happened in the parties conducted by
Messrs. Hunt and Crooks. M‘Kenzie and his party were more fortunate: as
soon as the division of the men and property took place, that bold
North-Wester called his little band together,—“Now, my friends,” said
he, “there is still hope before us; to linger on our way, to return
back, or to be discouraged and stand still, is death—a death of all
others the most miserable; therefore, take courage; let us persevere and
push on ahead, and all will end well; the foremost will find something
to eat, the last may fare worse.” On hearing these cheering words, the
poor fellows took off their caps, gave three cheers, and at once shot
ahead. They kept as near the river as possible, and got on wonderfully
well, until they came into the {182} narrow and rugged defiles of the
Blue Mountains: there they suffered much, and were at one time five days
without a mouthful to eat, when, fortunately, they caught a beaver; and
on this small animal and its skin, scarcely a mouthful to each, the
whole party had to subsist for three days. At this time some of them
were so reduced that M‘Kenzie himself had to carry on his own back two
of his men’s blankets, being a strong and robust man, and long
accustomed to the hardships and hard fare of the north. He alone, of all
the party, stood the trial well; and, by still cheering and encouraging
his men on, he brought them at length to the main waters of the
Columbia, at Walla Walla, a little below the great forks; from thence
they descended with the current to the long-looked-for Astoria, where
they arrived safe and sound on the 10th of January, 1812.
Mr. Hunt and the other parties still lingered behind; and from the
severe trials and privations which M‘Kenzie, who was reckoned the
boldest and most experienced adventurer in the expedition, suffered,
fears were entertained as to the safety of the other parties, more
particularly as many gloomy reports had reached Astoria; some saying
that they had been killed by the Indians, others that they had died of
hunger in the mountains; but at last, on the 15th of February, the
joyful cry of white men approaching, announced at Astoria the glad
tidings of Mr. Hunt’s arrival.
The emaciated, downcast looks and tattered garments {183} of our
friends, all bespoke their extreme sufferings during a long and severe
winter. To that Being alone who preserveth all those who put their trust
in Him, were in this instance due, and at all times, our thanksgiving
and gratitude.
{184} CHAPTER XI
Doings at Astoria—Three parties on foot—Their object—M‘Lellan’s
resolution—Hostile attack at the Long Narrows—Mr. Reed—Two Indians
shot—Heroic conduct of M‘Lellan—Difficulties adjusted—Advance of the
party—Remarks—Arrival at Oakinacken—Departure again for Astoria—
Scene at Umatallow—Mr. Crooks’s adventures and suffering—
Yeck-a-tap-am—Umatallow left—Merit rewarded—Arrival of the party at
Astoria—The ship _Beaver_ there also.
As the spring advanced, various resolutions were passed, and
preparations made in furtherance of the views of the concern for the
current year. In the prosecution of these plans, three parties were set
on foot for the interior; one, consisting of three men, under Mr. Reed,
for New York, overland; another, under Mr. Farnham, for the goods left
_en cache_ by Mr. Hunt on his journey; and a third, to be conducted by
Mr. Robert Stuart, for Oakinacken, with supplies for that post.[59]
On the 22nd of March, all these parties, consisting of seventeen men,
left Astoria together, under the {185} direction of Mr. Stuart. On the
departure of the party, Mr. M‘Lellan, following the example of his
colleague, Mr. Miller, abruptly resigned, and joined the party for New
York. This gentleman possessed many excellent qualities, but they were
all obscured and thrown into the shade by a fickle and unsteady mind.
Everything went on smoothly till the party reached the long narrows;
that noted resort of plunderers, where few can pass without paying a
heavy tax; but there, while in the act of making the portage, the party
being unavoidably divided, they were furiously attacked by a strong
party of Indians. Mr. Reed, bearer of the express for New York, was
knocked down in the scuffle, and severely wounded; and had not M‘Lellan,
with a bravery and presence of mind peculiar to himself, leaped
dexterously over a canoe, he would have been felled to the ground; but
his agility saved him, and in all probability saved the whole party, for
he instantly shot the man who aimed the blow, then drawing a pistol from
his belt, shot him who had assailed Reed dead at his feet; then clapping
his hand to his mouth, in the true Indian style, he gave the war-whoop,
fired his rifle, and the Indians fled. During the critical scuffle, the
despatches were carried off by the savages, and a few other articles of
but little value. The firing and the war-whoop summoned in a moment all
the whites together, and the Indians, being panic-struck at M‘Lellan’s
heroic conduct, retired rather disconcerted, {186} giving Mr. Stuart and
his party time to collect their property, embark, and depart.
They had not proceeded far, however, when the Indians assembled again in
battle array, and taking up a position some distance ahead, appeared
determined to dispute the passage. But Mr. Stuart was on the alert, and
took up his station on a rock some distance from the shore, and from the
savages also; when, after a momentary suspense, and many wild flourishes
and threats on the part of the Indians, a parley ensued, and Mr. Stuart
had the good fortune to negociate a peace. Six blankets and a few
trifling articles satisfied the Indians, or at least they preferred them
to the doubtful issue of a second attack. As soon, therefore, as they
had received the stipulated oblation for their dead, they retired, and
our friends pursued their journey without any further molestation; but
for some days and nights after, our party kept a good look-out.
Mr. Stuart, although brave and prudent, erred in attempting to pass the
portage in the night; that stealthy proceeding revealed their fears or
weakness, and was, in all probability, the cause of the whole disaster.
Mr. Reed gradually recovered, but the despatches were lost; so that
there was an end to the expedition overland. Mr. Reed and his men
therefore accompanied Mr. Stuart, as did Mr. Farnham and the _cache_
party; it not being considered prudent to divide. The party now
continued their route together, and arrived safe at Oakinacken on the
24th {187} of April. Here they remained for five days, when the party
left for Astoria, in four canoes, carrying off with them 2500 beaver
skins. Mr. David Stuart and two of our men accompanied the party down,
leaving at Oakinacken only myself, Mr. Donald M‘Gillis, and one man.
On their way down, one morning a little after sunrise, while near the
Umatallow River, where a crowd of Indians were assembled together, they
were hailed loudly in English to “come on shore.” The canoes instantly
closed together, and listened with some anxiety to hear the words
repeated. They had no sooner done so than the voice again called out to
“come on shore.” To shore the canoes instantly steered; when, to the
surprise of all, who should be there, standing like two spectres, but
Mr. Crooks and John Day, who, it will be remembered, had been left by
Mr. Hunt among the Snake Indians the preceding autumn; but so changed
and emaciated were they, that our people for some time could scarcely
recognise them to be white men; and we cannot do better here than give
their story in their own words. The following is, therefore, Mr.
Crooks’s account of their adventures and their sufferings:—
“After being left by Mr. Hunt, we remained for some time with the
Snakes,[60] who were very kind to us. When they had anything to eat, we
ate also; but they soon departed, and being themselves without
provisions, of course they left us without any. {188} We had to provide
for ourselves the best way we could. As soon, therefore, as the Indians
went off, we collected some brushwood and coarse hay, and made a sort of
booth or wigwam to shelter us from the cold; we then collected some
firewood; but before we got things in order, John Day grew so weak that
when he sat down he could not rise again without help. Following the
example of the Indians, I dug up roots for our sustenance; but not
knowing how to cook them, we were nearly poisoned. In this plight, we
unfortunately let the fire go out, and for a day and night we both lay
in a torpid state, unable to strike fire, or to collect dry fuel. We had
now been a day without food, or even water to drink, and death appeared
inevitable. But Providence is ever kind. Two straggling Indians
happening to come our way, relieved us. They made us a fire, got us some
water, and gave us something to eat; but seeing some roots we had
collected for food lying in a corner, they gave us to understand that
they would poison us if we ate them. If we had had a fire, those very
roots would have been our first food, for we had nothing else to eat;
and who can tell but the hand of a kind and superintending Providence
was in all this? These poor fellows staid with us the greater part of
two days, and gave us at their departure about two pounds of venison. We
were really sorry to lose them.
“On the same day, after the Indians had left us, a very large wolf came
prowling about our hut, when {189} John Day, with great exertions and
good luck, shot the ferocious animal dead; and to this fortunate hit I
think we owed our lives. The flesh of the wolf we cut up and dried, and
laid it by for some future emergency, and in the mean time feasted upon
the skin; nor did we throw away the bones, but pounded them between
stones, and with some roots made a kind of broth, which, in our present
circumstances, we found very good. After we had recovered our strength a
little, and were able to walk, we betook ourselves to the mountains in
search of game; and, when unsuccessful in the chase, we had recourse to
our dried wolf. For two months we wandered about, barely sustaining life
with our utmost exertions. All this time we kept travelling to and fro,
until we happened, by mere chance, to fall on the Umatallow River; and
then following it, we made the Columbia about a mile above this place,
on the 15th day of April, according to our reckoning. Our clothes being
all torn and worn out, we suffered severely from cold; but on reaching
this place, the Indians were very kind to us. This man,” pointing to an
old grey-headed Indian, called Yeck-a-tap-am, “in particular treated us
like a father. After resting ourselves for two days with the good old
man and his people, we set off, following the current, in the delusive
hope of being able to reach our friends at the mouth of the Columbia, as
the Indians gave us to understand that white men had gone down there in
the winter, which we supposed must have been Mr. Hunt and his party.
{190} “We had proceeded on our journey nine days, without interruption,
and were not far from the falls, which the Indians made us comprehend by
uttering the word ‘tumm,’ which we understood to mean noise or fall;[61]
when one morning, as we were sitting near the river, gazing on the
beautiful stream before us, the Indians in considerable numbers
collected around us, in the usual friendly manner: after some little
time, however, one of them got up, and, under pretence of measuring the
length of my rifle with his bow, took it in his hands; another in the
same manner, and at the same moment, took John Day’s rifle from him. The
moment our guns were in their possession, the two Indians darted out of
the crowd to some distance, and assuming a menacing attitude, pointed
them at us; in the same instant, all the others fled from us and joined
the two who had carried off our guns. All began to intimate to us by
signs, in the most uproarious and wild manner, that some of their people
had been killed by the whites, and threatened to kill us in turn. In
this critical conjunction, John Day drew his knife, with the intention
of rushing upon the fellows to get hold of his gun; but I pointed out to
him the folly of such a step, which must have instantly proved fatal to
us, and he desisted.
“The Indians then closed in upon us, with guns pointed and bows drawn,
on all sides, and by force stripped us of our clothes, ammunition,
knives, and everything else, leaving us naked as the day we were {191}
born, and, by their movements and gestures, it appeared evident that
there was a disposition on their part to kill us; but after a long and
angry debate, in which two or three old men seemed to befriend us, they
made signs for us to be off: seeing the savages determined, and more of
them still collecting, we slowly turned round, and went up the river
again, expecting every moment to receive a ball or an arrow. After
travelling some little distance, we looked back and saw the savages
quarrelling about the division of the booty; but fearing pursuit, we
left the river and took to the hills. All that day we travelled without
tasting food, and at night concealed ourselves among the rocks—without
fire, food, or clothing. Next day we drew near to the river, and picked
up some fishbones at a deserted Indian encampment; with these we
returned to the rocks again, and pounding them with stones, tried to eat
a little, but could not manage to swallow any: that night also we hid
ourselves among the rocks, but at last we resolved to keep by the river,
and, as it seemed impossible to avoid death, either by the Indians or
starvation, to brave all dangers in the attempt to reach our good old
friend Yeck-a-tap-am—and Providence still guarded us.
“Soon after we arrived at the river, we unexpectedly fell on a small
Indian hut, with only two old people and a child in it: we approached
with hesitating and doubtful steps, but on entering the solitary wigwam,
the poor inmates were more {192} frightened than ourselves; and, had
they had timely notice of our approach, they would have certainly fled.
The good people, however, gave us fish, broth, and roots to eat; and
this was the first food we had tasted, and the first fire we had seen,
for four days and four nights. Our feet were severely cut and bleeding,
for want of shoes; yet we lost no time, but set off, and arrived here
three days ago, and our good old friend, Yeck-a-tap-am, received us
again with open arms, and gave us these skins to cover our nakedness, as
ye now see.
“The good old man then killed a horse, which his people cut up and dried
for us, and with that supply we had resolved to set out this very day
and retrace our steps back again to St. Louis overland, and when you
came in sight we were just in the act of tying up our little bundles;
regretting, most of all, that we had no means of recompensing our good
and faithful friend Yeck-a-tap-am.”
Mr. Crooks having concluded his narrative, Mr. Stuart called the old man
to him, and clothed him from head to foot for his friendly services. Mr.
Crooks and his fellow-sufferer then cordially shaking hands with
Yeck-a-tap-am, the party pushed off, and continued their voyage. On
arriving at the place where Crooks had been robbed, the party put on
shore; but the Indians, having notice of their approach, fled to the
interior; so that they had no opportunity of either recovering the guns
or inquiring into the affair.
{193} From the long narrows the party met with no interruption, but
continued their route till they reached Astoria, on the 12th of May,
where Crooks and all the party were greeted with a hearty welcome; and
what made the meeting more joyous was the safe arrival, three days
previous, of the Company’s ship _Beaver_ from New York, with a supply of
goods, and a reinforcement of men.
{194} CHAPTER XII
General meeting of the partners—Resolutions passed—Departure of the
parties for the interior—Mr. Clarke—The cascades—Wyampam, or the
Long Narrows—Situation of the party—Loss of time—Mr. M‘Kenzie—A
stroll through the Indian camp—Mr. Clarke’s alarms—Command
transferred—Reed’s rifle recovered—A robber in irons—The five shots—
Yeck-a-tap-am rewarded—Mr. Stuart’s departure for St. Louis—Second
division—Summer trip to She Whaps—Boullard and his squaw—Mr.
Stuart’s arrival at Oakinacken—Departure for She Whaps—Winter
operations at Oakinacken—Visits—Travelling scenes—A night in the
snow—Jacque and his powder-horn—Mr. Stuart’s account of his journey—
Arrival at Walla Walla.
All parties being now at their posts, for the first time a meeting of
the partners was convened, at which the following resolutions, among
others, were passed—“That Mr. David Stuart proceed to his post at
Oakinacken, explore the country northward, and establish another post
between that and New Caledonia:[62] That Mr. M‘Kenzie winter on the
Snake country; recover the goods left in _cache_ there by Mr. Hunt; and
report on the state of the country: That Mr. Clarke[63] winter at
Spokane, as an intermediate {195} post, between Mr. Stuart on the north
and Mr. M‘Kenzie on the south, in order to oppose and keep in check the
North-West Company established there: That Mr. Robert Stuart proceed to
St. Louis across land, with despatches for Mr. Astor.[64] That all these
several parties, for mutual safety, advance together as far as the
forks, or entrance of the great south branch.” It was likewise settled
at this council, “That Mr. Hunt should accompany the ship _Beaver_ to
the Russian settlements on his coasting trip.” These preparatory steps
being taken, the several parties, numbering sixty-two persons, left
Astoria for the interior on the 29th of June.
This was the first formidable and regular party that left Astoria, which
seemed to impart to the concern a character of permanency and success,
and was conducted by Mr. Clarke, the brightest star in the Columbian
constellation, as Mr. Astor expressed himself—for to him, by mutual
consent, was conceded the important command.
On their progress, no interruption impeded the party till they reached
the cascades, where the Indians were rather troublesome, and shot a few
arrows at the canoes as they passed; but on the party landing all was
submission; the portage was made; and the party advanced at a rapid rate
till they reached the long narrows: that intricate and gloomy pass is
constantly infested with gambling Indians of the vilest character.
Here, as usual, the thievish subjects of Wyampam assembled in numbers,
and showed a formidable and {196} determined front. To one used to their
gasconading threats, there was nothing in all this to intimidate; but to
Mr. Clarke, although a man of nerve on most occasions, the sight was
overwhelming. He stood appalled, and almost speechless. In short, he
looked upon all as irretrievably lost. To advance, to retreat, or to
stand still with safety, seemed to him equally hopeless. Guards and
patrols were stationed round the tempting bales of goods, and days and
nights wasted in useless harangues and parleys, without result. Mr.
Clarke’s lofty tent, pitched in the centre of the arena, as a beacon on
the top of a hill shining afar, was guarded on every side by trusty
Sandwich Islanders; while the rest, forming the circumvallation, had to
protect all within. This state of things continued for several days and
nights, until Mr. M‘Kenzie and Mr. David Stuart, taking a voluntary
stroll for upwards of two miles through the Indian camp, proved by their
safe return that the alarm and fears of Mr. Clarke were utterly
groundless, and urged him to press forward, as every moment’s delay only
increased the danger.
Mr. Clarke, however, viewed their situation as desperate, and the
thought of advancing as utterly hopeless. Mr. M‘Kenzie then told him
that he could wait no longer, but would proceed with his own party
alone; Mr. Stuart said the same. To this threat, Mr. Clarke replied,
that if they could pass he could pass also, but would not answer for the
consequences. Mr. M‘Kenzie replied that he would {197} answer for them,
and therefore took upon himself the command, and immediately ordered the
tents to be struck and the party to advance. The party advanced
accordingly, and by adopting judicious arrangements got through the
suspicious pass without molestation or loss.
Before we proceed further, however, we may here mention that whilst
M‘Kenzie and Stuart were on their ramble through the Indian camp, they
saw in a corner of one of the chief’s lodges the rifle which had been
taken from Mr. Reed when he was wounded, and they were resolved at all
hazards to recover it.
As soon, therefore, as all were safe above the narrows, M‘Kenzie took
eight men, well armed, with him, and went direct to the chief’s lodge;
then stationing four of his men at the door, he, himself, went in with
the other four, and demanded the stolen rifle; but the chief denied that
he had it, or that it was in his lodge. Mr. M‘Kenzie, however, insisted
that it was there, and said he was determined to have it; and seeing
that fair means would not avail he drew his dagger, and began to turn
over and cut up everything that came in his way, until at last the rifle
was discovered, when M‘Kenzie upbraided the chief for falsehood and
dishonesty, took the rifle, and with his party made for the door of the
lodge. The Indians were now assembling together in crowds; but before
they had time to decide on any step, M‘Kenzie and his men were out of
their reach, {198} carrying the rifle with them. The business was well
timed, for had they delayed some minutes longer in the lodge, it is hard
to say what the consequences might have been. Early in the morning our
party proceeded on their journey; passed the falls, and encamped for the
night near the spot where Mr. Crooks and John Day had been robbed on
their forlorn adventures down the river.
The Indians, however, flocked round our party as if nothing had
happened, and among the rest the ruffian who took John Day’s rifle was
recognised. He was immediately laid hold of and secured in one of the
canoes. Mr. Crooks’s rifle was alone recovered. Some were for hanging
the offender, others were for cutting his ears off; but after keeping
him a prisoner for two days, he was set at liberty without any further
punishment; and, under all circumstances, that was perhaps the wisest
course. Before he went off, however, Mr. M‘Lellan, to show him the
effect of fire-arms in the hands of the whites, set up a piece of board,
with a white spot on it, only two inches in diameter, and in three
successive shots, at a hundred yards distance, with his rifle he pierced
the bull’s eye; then stopping up the holes of two of the shots, put a
hazel-nut in the third, and broke it with two successive shots at the
same distance.
On passing the Umatallow, Yeck-a-tap-am was not forgotten, Mr. Crooks
giving him a chief’s coat in return for the kindness shown to the latter
while in distress.
{199} On the 29th of July, all the parties arrived safe at Walla Walla;
here they were to separate, and here it was that Mr. Robert Stuart,
after staying for two days with Tummeatapam, and purchasing ten horses,
the number requisite for his journey overland, took his departure for
St. Louis. The party consisted of Mr. Stuart, Benjamin Jones, Andrè
Vallar, Francis Le Clerc, and Mr. Crooks and Mr. M‘Lellan. The two
latter gentlemen relinquished all connection with the concern, and
joined the party for St. Louis. This little, bold, and courageous party
bade adieu to their associates, and commenced their perilous undertaking
on the 31st of July. In the mean time, the main party struck off at the
forks, leaving M‘Kenzie and Clarke on their way up the Snake River, or
south branch, to their respective destinations. We shall, for the
present, accompany Mr. David Stuart to his wintering ground, and back
again to this place, where the parties agreed to meet in the following
June. The histories of the other parties shall be recounted hereafter,
each in its proper place.
From the forks, Mr. Stuart and his party, ascending the north branch,
continued their voyage, and arrived at Oakinacken on the 12th of August.
Here it will be remembered that when the party left this on the 28th of
April for Astoria, I remained at Oakinacken, having only Mr. M‘Gillis
and one man, named Boullard, with me. On the 6th of May I started with
Boullard and an Indian, with sixteen horses, on a trading excursion, and
following Mr. {200} Stuart’s route of last winter, reached the She Whaps
on Thompson’s River, the tenth day, and there encamped at a place called
by the Indians Cumcloups, near the entrance of the north branch.[65]
From this station I sent messages to the different tribes around, who
soon assembled, bringing with them their furs. Here we stayed for ten
days. The number of Indians collected on the occasion could not have
been less than 2,000. Not expecting to see so many, I had taken but a
small quantity of goods with me; nevertheless, we loaded all our horses—
so anxious were they to trade, and so fond of tobacco, that one morning
before breakfast I obtained one hundred and ten beavers for leaf
tobacco, at the rate of five leaves per skin; and at last, when I had
but one yard of white cotton remaining, one of the chiefs gave me twenty
prime beaver skins for it.
Having now finished our trade, we prepared to return home; but before we
could get our odds-and-ends ready, Boullard, my trusty second, got
involved in a love affair, which had nearly involved us all in a
disagreeable scrape with the Indians. This was the very man Mr. Stuart
got from Mr. Thompson in exchange for Cox, the Owhyhee. He was as full
of latent tricks as a serpent is of guile. Unknown to me, the old fellow
had been teasing the Indians for a wife, and had already an old squaw at
his heels, but could not raise the wind to pay the whole purchase-money.
With an air of effrontery he asked me to unload one of my horses to
satisfy the demands of the {201} old father-in-law, and because I
refused him, he threatened to leave me and to remain with the savages.
Provoked at his conduct, I suddenly turned round and horsewhipped the
fellow, and, fortunately, the Indians did not interfere. The castigation
had a good effect: it brought the amorous gallant to his senses—the
squaw was left behind. We started; but were frequently impeded on our
journey by the sudden rise of the rivers. As we were often obliged to
swim our horses, our packs of beaver got now and then wet, but without
sustaining any serious injury; and on the 12th of July we reached home,
well pleased both with our trade and the reception we had met with from
the Indians. On this trip we had frequent opportunities of paying
attention to the aspect and topography of the country through which we
passed.
On the 25th of August, Mr. Stuart, with his men and merchandise, left
Oakinacken to winter among the She Whaps, appointing me, as a recompense
for my successful voyage to Cumcloups, to the post of Oakinacken.
Although not hitherto formally appointed, I had virtually been in charge
of it since its first establishment. Having escorted Mr. Stuart for
seventy miles, I returned to prepare my own post for the winter
operations. After spending all the autumn in trading excursions,
according to the custom of the country, I resolved on the 2nd of
December to pay a visit to Mr. John Clarke, at Fort Spokane, which place
we reached on the fourth day.[66] Spokane lies {202} due east from
Oakinacken—distant about 150 miles. The face of the country is rocky and
barren.
I had never seen Mr. Clarke before; but certainly a more affable,
generous, and kind gentleman in his own house could not be met with.
During the three days I remained with him, I had frequent opportunities
of observing the sly and underhand dealings of the competing parties,
for the opposition posts of the North-West Company and Mr. Clarke were
built contiguous to each other. When the two parties happened to meet,
they made the amplest protestations of friendship and kindness, and a
stranger, unacquainted with the politics of Indian trade, would have
pronounced them sincere; but the moment their backs were turned, they
tore each other to pieces. Each party had its manœuvreing scouts out in
all directions, watching the motions of the Indians, and laying plots
and plans to entrap or foil each other. He that got most skins, never
minding the cost of the crime, was the cleverest fellow; and under such
tutors the Indians were apt disciples. They played their tricks also,
and turned the foibles and wiles of their teachers to their own
advantage.
Leaving Spokane Fort, we turned towards home again. In the evening of
the 13th, not far from home, as we were ascending a very steep hill, at
the top of which is a vast plain, I and my man had to walk, leaving our
horses to shift for themselves, and climb up as they could; and so steep
and intricate {203} were the windings that I had to throw off my coat,
which, together with my gun, I laid on one of the pack-horses. The
moment we reached the top, and before we could gather our horses or look
about us, we were overtaken by a tremendous cold snowstorm; the sun
became instantly obscured, and the wind blew a hurricane. We were taken
by surprise. I immediately called out to the men to shift for
themselves, and let the horses do the same. Just at this moment I
accidentally came in contact with one of the loaded horses, for such was
the darkness that we could not see three feet ahead; but, unfortunately,
it was not the horse on which I had laid my coat and gun. I instantly
cut the tyings, threw off the load, and mounting on the pack-saddle,
rode off at full speed through the deep snow, in the hopes of reaching a
well-known place of shelter not far off; but in the darkness and
confusion I missed the place, and at last got so benumbed with cold that
I could ride no farther; and, besides, my horse was almost exhausted. In
this plight I dismounted and took to walking, in order to warm myself.
But no place of shelter was to be found. Night came on; the storm
increased in violence; my horse gave up; and I myself was so exhausted,
wandering through the deep snow, that I could go no further. Here I
halted, unable to decide what to do. My situation appeared desperate:
without my coat; without my gun; without even a fire-steel. In such a
situation I must perish. At {204} last I resolved on digging a hole in
the snow; but in trying to do so, I was several times in danger of being
suffocated with the drift and eddy. In this dilemma I unsaddled my
horse, which stood motionless as a statue in the snow. I put the saddle
under me, and the saddle-cloth, about the size of a handkerchief, round
my shoulders, then squatted down in the dismal hole, more likely to
prove my grave than a shelter. On entering the hole I said to myself,
“Keep awake and live; sleep and die.” I had not been long, however, in
this dismal burrow before the cold, notwithstanding my utmost exertions
to keep my feet warm, gained so fast upon me that I was obliged to take
off my shoes, then pull my trousers, by little and little, over my feet,
till at last I had the waistband round my toes; and all would not do. I
was now reduced to the last shift, and tried to keep my feet warm at the
risk of freezing my body. At last I had scarcely strength to move a
limb; the cold was gaining fast upon me; and the inclination to sleep
almost overcame me. In this condition I passed the whole night; nor did
the morning promise me much relief; yet I thought it offered me a
glimpse of hope, and that hope induced me to endeavour to break out of
my snowy prison. I tried, but in vain, to put on my frozen shoes; I
tried again and again before I could succeed. I then dug my saddle out
of the snow, and after repeated efforts, reached the horse and put the
saddle on; but could not myself get into the saddle. {205} Ten o’clock
next day came before there was any abatement of the storm, and when it
did clear up a little I knew not where I was; still it was cheering to
see the storm abate. I tried again to get into the saddle; and when I at
last succeeded, my half-frozen horse refused to carry me, for he could
scarcely lift a leg. I then alighted and tried to walk; but the storm
broke out again with redoubled violence. I saw no hope of saving myself
but to kill the horse, open him, and get into his body, and I drew my
hunting-knife for the purpose; but then it occurred to me that the body
would freeze, and that I could not, in that case, extricate myself. I
therefore abandoned the idea, laid my knife by, and tried again to walk,
and again got into the saddle. The storm now abating a little, my horse
began to move; and I kept wandering about through the snow till three
o’clock in the afternoon, when the storm abated altogether; and the sun
coming out, I recognised my position. I was then not two miles from my
own house, where I arrived at dusk; and it was high time, for I could
not have gone much farther; and after all it was my poor horse that
saved me, for had I set out on foot, I should never, in my exhausted
condition, have reached the house.
How my men weathered the storm we shall presently see. Two of them got
home a little before myself, but much frost-bitten. The other two had
not made their appearance yet; but some Indians were instantly
despatched in search of them; and {206} one was found that night; the
other not till the next day. He was carried home almost in a dying
state, but ultimately recovered. One of the horses was found dead; all
the rest were recovered, but the load which I had thrown off the horse
which I rode was totally destroyed by the wolves. Such a destructive
storm had not been felt in these parts for many years previous. An
Indian, with his whole family, consisting of seven persons, perished by
it; two more were severely frost-bitten, and more than twenty horses
were lost.
On the 20th of December, just six days after my return from Spokane, I
set out with one man on a visit to Mr. Stuart, at the She Whaps, and
arrived at Cumcloups on the last day of the year; soon after, Mr. Stuart
reached his wintering place. The North-West, jealous of that quarter,
followed hard at his heels, and built alongside of him. So that there
was opposition there as well as at Mr. Clarke’s place, but without the
trickery and manœuvring. M. La Rocque, the North-West clerk in
charge,[67] and Mr. Stuart, were open and candid, and on friendly terms.
The field before them was wide enough for both parties, and, what is
more, they thought it so; consequently they followed a fair and
straightforward course of trade; with Mr. Stuart I remained five days,
and in coming home I took a near and unknown route, in order to explore
a part of the country I had not seen before; but I chose a bad season of
the year to satisfy my curiosity: we got {207} bewildered in the
mountains and deep snows, our progress was exceedingly slow, tedious,
and discouraging. We were at one time five days in making as many miles,
our horses suffered greatly, had nothing to eat for four days and four
nights, not a blade of grass appearing above the snow, and their feet
were so frightfully cut with the crust on the snow that they could
scarcely move, so that we were within a hair’s breadth of losing every
one of them.
One evening, the fuel being damp, we were unable to kindle a brisk fire.
In this predicament, I called on Jacques to give me a little powder, a
customary thing in such cases; but in place of handing me a little
powder, or taking a little out in his hand, wise Jacques, uncorking his
horn, began to pour it out on the heated coal. It instantly exploded,
and blew all up before it, sending Jacques himself sprawling six feet
from where he stood, and myself nearly as far, both for some time
stunned and senseless, while the fire was completely extinguished.
We, however, received no injury beyond the fright, though Jacques held
the horn in his hand when it was blown to atoms. On recovering, we were
not in the best humour, and sat down for some time in gloomy mood; cold,
however, soon admonished us to try again; but it was midnight before we
could get a fire lighted and ourselves warmed, and we passed a
disagreeable night without sleep or food. We hastened next morning from
this unlucky encampment, {208} and getting clear of the mountains, we
descended into a low and pleasant valley, where we found the Indians I
had been in search of, and something both for ourselves and our horses
to eat. At the Indian camp we remained one day, got the information we
required about the country, procured some furs, and then, following the
course of the Sa-milk-a-meigh River,[68] got to Oakinacken at the forks;
thence we travelled almost day and night till the 24th of January, when
we reached home again. On this journey we met with several cross
purposes, and suffered a good deal from both cold and hunger, so that I
got heartily tired of visiting. During my absence, Mr. M‘Gillis managed
matters at the post very well. Several other trading trips took place in
the course of the spring, and these, with the ordinary routine business
of the place, kept our hands full till the hour of embarkation arrived.
In the course of the last year I had travelled in various directions
through the country, 3,355 miles.
On the 13th of May, Mr. Stuart, with his men and furs, arrived from the
She Whaps. In reference to his post, he remarked, “I have passed a
winter nowise unpleasant, the opposition, it is true, gave me a good
deal of anxiety when it first arrived, but we agreed very well, and made
as much, perhaps more, than if we had been enemies. I sent out parties
in all directions, north as far as Fraser’s River, and for two hundred
miles up the south branch. The accounts from all quarters were most
satisfactory. {209} The country is everywhere rich in furs, and the
natives very peaceable. The She Whaps will be one of the best beaver
posts in the country, and I have now brought a fine stock of valuable
furs with me.”
After remaining at Oakinacken for ten days, to get the furs packed and
pressed, Mr. Stuart and myself, with the men and furs, set out for Walla
Walla, the place of general rendezvous settled upon last summer, where
we arrived on the 30th of May; the other parties not having yet come in.
{210} CHAPTER XIII
Mr. Clarke—Stragglers—Hard travelling—Cox’s pilgrimage—Visit to
Spokane—Trade—Mr. Pillet—Mr. Farnham—Cootanais and Flatheads—
M‘Lennan—Plunge in the lake—Adventures—Outposts—Catatouch chief—
Curiosity—Fracas—Introduction of civilization—Commotion—M‘Kenzie—
Great Snake River—Caches robbed—Canadian wanderers—Character of the
Shahaptains—Visit to Spokane—M‘Tavish—Account of the war—Winter
travels—M‘Kenzie at Astoria—New resolves—M‘Kenzie’s return to his
post—Indian chiefs—Bold enterprize—Property recovered—Chiefs and
their horses—Stratagems—Indians outwitted—Plotting—Friendly Island—
Conference—Marauding propensities—Treaty of peace—System changed—
Plentiful market—The island abandoned—Arrival at Walla Walla—
Commotions among the savages—Tummeatapam—Arrival at Astoria.
We now come to the history of Mr. Clarke and his party, whom we left at
the forks in August last, on his way to his winter quarters at Spokane.
Having proceeded up the South-branch, or Louis River, for about fifty
miles, he reached the Catatouch band, at the mouth of the Pavilion
River.[69] The Catatouches are a small and friendly tribe of the great
Nez Percé nations, and the lowest of them on the South-branch.[70] This
spot terminated Mr. Clarke’s voyage by water. From thence his route lay
across land to the Spokane River, distant {211} about 170 miles. Leaving
his canoes under the care of the friendly Catatouch chief, he purchased
horses from the Indians for the transportation of his goods.
Mr. Clarke had four clerks with him, Messrs. Pillet, Farnham, M‘Lennan,
and Cox. He had also more men and merchandize than any of the other
parties, as it was supposed he would have most to do in opposing a
formidable opposition.
Having purchased a sufficient number of horses, he left the Pavilion on
the 10th of August, and set out on his journey by land. He had not
proceeded far, however, when he got into some little difficulties with
his people. They had started together; but before they had been two
hours on the march, some of them lagged so far behind that the motley
cavalcade outstretched a mile in length; while Mr. Clarke, like a
general at the head of an army, had to keep riding backwards and
forwards to keep together the broken line of stragglers, the greater
part of whom being on foot, and having to keep up with horses, over a
barren and sandy plain, in the hot and sultry weather of a Columbia
summer, had a task too severe, perhaps, even for the best travellers.
The most refractory of the rear-guard was Mr. Cox—the little Irishman,
as he was generally called.[71] Mr. Clarke riding back ordered him, in
an angry tone, to quicken his steps. “Give me a horse,” said Cox, “and
I’ll ride with yourself at the head.” At this reply Mr. Clarke raised
his whip—some say he {212} put his threats in execution—and then rode
off. Be that as it may, Cox slunk off and took to the mountains; the
party moved on, and Cox remained behind. The sixth day the party arrived
at Spokane. Indians were then sent out in all directions; but it was the
seventh day after the party had reached its destination before Cox made
his appearance. The Indians had picked him up in a most destitute and
forlorn condition on the thirteenth day of his wayward pilgrimage; his
clothes all torn, his feet bare, and his belly empty. When I was there
in the winter, Cox had hardly recovered yet. Mr. Clarke’s mode of
trading might do for a bourgeois; but it was not fit for a clerk. What
was considered moderate at Spokane would be denounced as exorbitant at
Oakinacken. Mr. Clarke was extravagant; but to be called by the Indians
a generous chief was his greatest glory.
Mr. Clarke established himself at the corner of the opposition post; and
being formerly a North-Wester himself, he was up to the rigs of his
opponents. The Indians were assembled, long speeches were made, and
mighty things were promised on both sides, but never fulfilled. As soon
as Mr. Clarke had got himself and property under shelter, following the
North-West system, he gave a grand ball to his men, and appointed three
or four of the most conceited and blustering fellows in his party to be
a guard, such as the Sioux and other savage nations employ as
instruments of tyranny {213} in the hands of despotic chiefs. These
fellows wore feathers in their caps, the insignia of their office. To
challenge, fight, and bully their opponents, stand at the heels of their
bourgeois, to be ready at a wink to do whatever he commands them, is
their duty; and they understand it well. All these preliminary steps
being taken, Mr. Clarke set about establishing outposts, to compete with
his opponents and keep them in check.
Mr. Pillet, with some men and a supply of goods, was sent to the
Cootanais to oppose Mr. Mantour on the part of the North-West.[72] Mr.
Pillet travelled a great deal, and turned his time to good account. Both
were zealous traders, and they could fight a duel as well as buy a skin,
for they carried pistols as well as goods along with them. They
therefore fought and traded alternately, but always spared the thread of
life, and in the spring parted good friends.
Mr. Farnham was fitted out for the Selish, or Flathead tribe[73]—crossed
with them the Rocky Mountains—visited the head waters of the Missouri—
saw much of the country, and made a good trade. Farnham was a bustling,
active, and enterprizing fellow.
Both the Cootanais[74] and Selish tribes live and range along the foot
of the mountains, often crossing them, and have frequent encounters with
the Blackfeet, by whom they have suffered greatly of late years; the
Blackfeet being too numerous for them.[75]
{214} Mr. M‘Lennan was stationed at the Pointed Hearts, or Sketch-hugh
Lake.[76] In going to his destination, he was rather unlucky, for his
canoe upset in crossing the lake, and swamped his goods; but he swam
like a fish, got the two men he had with him into the canoe again, then
kept diving like a seal, although the weather was cold and the water
deep, till he recovered the most of his property: his exertions on this
occasion astonished every one who knew the difficulties of the task.
M‘Lennan was hardy as steel, and bold as a lion: he made a very good and
a very cheap trade, and was altogether a favourite among the Indians.
Spring now drawing nigh, Mr. Clarke got in all his outposts and scouts,
and left Spokane, with thirty-two horses loaded with furs, on the 25th
of May: a confidential man, named Pion, a newly-promoted clerk, with
three men, was left in charge of the post. The party performed the
journey across land to the Pavilion in six days, and found the canoes,
which had been left there in charge of the Catatouch chief, all safe.
The most trivial incidents sometimes prove instructive, and may in their
consequences afford an important lesson. As soon as Mr. Clarke arrived
at the Pavilion, and found his canoes safe, pleased at the conduct of
the chief, he made him a present of some ammunition and tobacco; this
done, they set about packing up the different articles in order to
embark, and among others two silver goblets {215} belonging to Mr.
Clarke himself, who took this opportunity of showing them to the chief,
and expatiated on their high value; then pouring a little wine into one
of them made the chief drink out of it, telling him when done that he
was a greater man now than ever he was before. The chief was delighted,
and turning the goblet over and over in his hands, and looking at it
with intense interest, handed it over to the next great man, and he to
another, and so on till, like the pipe of peace, it had gone round the
whole circle. The precious curiosity was then laid by, and the Indians
retired.
Next morning, however, the pearl of great price was gone! everything in
and about the camp was turned topsy-turvy in search of the silver
goblet, but to no purpose: all business was now suspended—the goblet
must be found. At last it was conjectured the Indians must have stolen
it; and Mr. Clarke, with fury in his countenance, assembled the whole
Catatouch camp, and made known his loss—the loss of his silver goblet!
he coaxed, he flattered, he threatened to bring down vengeance upon the
whole tribe for the loss of his goblet, and, in his wrath and vexation,
denounced death upon the offender should he be discovered. The poor
Indians stood gazing in amazement; they sympathized with him, pitied
him, and deplored his loss, and promised to do their utmost to find the
goblet: with this solemn declaration they went off, the whole tribe was
called together, the council sat, and soon afterwards they {216}
returned in a body, like messengers of peace, bringing the glad tidings
to Mr. Clarke that the silver goblet was found; at the same time the
chief, stepping forward and spreading out his robe, laid the precious
vessel before him. “Where is the thief?” vociferated Mr. Clarke. The
chief then pointed to a fellow sitting in the ring as the criminal. “I
swore,” said Mr. Clarke, “that the thief should die, and white men never
break their word.” The fellow was told of his fate; but he kept smiling,
thinking himself, according to Indian custom, perfectly safe; for the
moment the stolen article is returned to the rightful owner, according
to the maxims of Indian law, the culprit is exonerated. Mr. Clarke,
however, thought otherwise, and, like Herod of old, for the sake of his
oath considered himself bound to put his threat into execution, and
therefore instantly commanded the poor, unsuspecting wretch to be hung
up—and hung he was accordingly; and the unhallowed deed was aggravated
by the circumstance of their taking the poles of his own lodge to make
the gallows.
The Indians all the time could not believe that the whites were in
earnest, till they beheld the lifeless body. The deed was, however, no
sooner committed than Mr. Clarke grew alarmed. The chief, throwing down
his robe on the ground, a sign of displeasure, harangued his people, who
immediately after mounted their fleetest horses, and scampered off in
all directions to circulate the news and assemble the surrounding {217}
tribes, to take vengeance on the whites. In the mean time, leaving the
enraged Indians to follow their inclination, the canoes were thrown into
the water, loaded, and down the current Mr. Clarke and his men pushed
their way day and night till they reached the Walla Walla, where they
arrived safe on the 4th of June; and here we shall leave them for the
present, while we detail M‘Kenzie’s winter adventures. Fortunately for
the whites, the defunct Indian was a person of very low degree, even in
the estimation of the Indians themselves, being an outcast without
friends or relatives, which made them less bent on revenge, but not the
less disposed to annoy, as we shall have occasion to notice hereafter.
Mr. M‘Kenzie and party before mentioned accompanied Mr. Clarke up the
South-branch as far as the Pavilion: here Clarke and his party forked
off for Spokane in August, leaving M‘Kenzie to prosecute his voyage up
the same river till he reached the very centre of the Great Shahaptain,
or Nez Percé nation, where he established himself for the winter.[77] By
way of clearing up some points not very intelligible to many, we may
here mention that the Great Snake River, Louis River, South-branch,
Shahaptain River, and Nez Percé River, are all one and the same stream,
with different denominations.
As soon as M‘Kenzie had got his goods safe under cover, he sent off Mr.
Reed, at the head of a small party, to bring the _caches_ of goods left
by Mr. Hunt to his own post. On his way, he picked up seven of {218} the
Canadians belonging to the trapping parties fitted out by Mr. Hunt on
his land expedition: these were, Dubreuil, Carson, the gunsmith,
Delaunay, St. Michel, Turcotte, Landrie, and La Chapelle, the
blacksmith. Some of these fellows, despairing of ever reaching the
Columbia, and no doubt thinking the _caches_ would be lost, went,
accompanied by a band of the Snakes, and rifled several of them; and
what they did not take was destroyed by the rains, the wolves, and other
animals: some, however, had not been touched, and these Mr. Reed and his
party carried off with them to M‘Kenzie’s post, which place they reached
at the end of thirty-five days.
On questioning the wanderers, the true story of the _cache_ robbery came
out; for M‘Kenzie learned from Turcotte and La Chapelle, that, having
lost their horses by a marauding party of Blackfeet, and being otherwise
destitute, they, in company with Landrie, meditated a descent upon the
_caches_ in order to supply their wants, and took the Snakes along with
them as a safeguard; with their share of the spoil they purchased more
horses, then following the Snakes to the Buffalo, they were again
surprised by the Blackfeet, lost their horses and everything else, and
were left as poor, if not poorer, than before. Filled with remorse, they
promised to live honest men the rest of their lives.
M‘Kenzie now began to learn the true character of the Indians about him.
Their occupations were {219} war and buffalo-hunting. Their country did
not abound in furs, nor would men accustomed to an indolent and roving
life submit to the drudgery of killing beavers. They spurned the idea of
crawling about in search of furs; “Such a life,” they said, “was only
fit for women and slaves.” They were, moreover, insolent and
independent. I say independent, because their horses procured them guns
and ammunition; the buffaloes provided them with food and clothing; and
war gave them renown. Such men held out but poor prospects to the
fur-trader; so that M‘Kenzie soon got sick of them, and weary of the
place. He then equipped the seven Snake wanderers, and sent them out to
trap beaver; but they had to go to the mountains, and on their way
thither the Indians annoyed them, stole their traps, and frightened them
back again to the post. M‘Kenzie then resolved to abandon that post, and
proceed further up the river; but before taking this step, he went over
to Spokane to visit Mr. Clarke; and while there, Mr. John George
M‘Tavish, a partner of the North-West Company, arrived with a strong
reinforcement of men and goods from the east side of the mountains,
bringing an account of the war between Great Britain and the United
States.[78] On receiving this unwelcome news, M‘Kenzie hastened back to
his post; but instead of removing further up, as he had contemplated, he
put his goods in _cache_, and set off with all his men for Astoria,
where he arrived on the 15th of January 1813.
{220} M‘Kenzie was dismayed on reaching Astoria to find that the
_Beaver_ had not returned. M‘Dougall and M‘Kenzie, weighing
circumstances, concluded that all was hopeless. The North-West Company
now strong in numbers and well supplied with goods; the _Tonquin_ lost,
and the _Beaver_ not returned, nor any account of her; add to these
untoward circumstances, the declaration of war. In this gloomy state of
things, M‘Kenzie and M‘Dougall were of opinion that prompt measures
should be adopted for abandoning the undertaking altogether, and that
ways and means should be concerted to remove the furs and goods at
Astoria into the interior, to be out of the way in case of British ships
of war entering the river.
On the 2nd of February, M‘Kenzie turned his face towards the interior;
and in two canoes, with eighteen men, pushed on to his post, having
letters from M‘Dougall pointing out the actual state of things, and
informing Messrs. Clarke and Stuart of the resolution entered into
between himself and M‘Kenzie for abandoning the enterprize early in the
spring. Messrs. Stuart and Clarke, however, viewed things in a different
light, and condemned the proposed step as premature.
On his way up, Mr. M‘Kenzie met two North-West canoes sweeping down the
current. In these were M‘Tavish, two clerks, and twenty men, on their
way to the mouth of the Columbia, to meet the far-famed ship _Isaac
Todd_, destined for that {221} part. On the twenty-second day after
leaving Astoria, Mr. M‘Kenzie arrived at his post on the Shahaptain
River; but was mortified to find his _cache_ robbed.
The Indians indicated their guilt by their shyness, for scarcely one of
them came to visit the trader, M‘Kenzie therefore summoned the chiefs,
and they appeared, expecting no doubt to receive something. When they
were all seated, he opened the business of the _cache_, and demanded the
goods; adding, that if they were given up, friendship would again be
restored. But they all, with one accord, denied having any knowledge of,
or hand in, the pillage or robbery. They admitted the fact of the
robbery, but denied that they were in any way accessory to it. They
regretted the misconduct of their young men; but the goods were now
gone, and they could do nothing; and so the conference ended. Seeing
that the chiefs would not assist to recover the stolen property, and
that every hour’s delay lessened the chance of regaining it, M‘Kenzie at
once resolved on a bold and hazardous step; namely, to dash into the
heart of the Indian camp, and recover what he could. Accordingly next
morning, after depositing in a safe place the few articles he had
brought with him, he and his little band, armed _cap-à-pie_, set out on
foot for the camp. On their approach, the Indians, suspecting something,
turned out in groups here and there, also armed. But M‘Kenzie, without a
moment’s hesitation, or giving them time to reflect, {222} ordered Mr.
Seaton,[79] who commanded the men, to surround the first wigwam or lodge
reached with charged bayonets, while he himself and Mr. Reed entered the
lodge, ransacked it, turning everything topsy-turvy, and with their
drawn daggers cutting and ripping open everything that might be supposed
to conceal the stolen property. In this manner they went from one lodge
to another till they had searched five or six with various success, when
the chiefs demanded a parley, and gave M‘Kenzie to understand that if he
desisted they would do the business themselves, and more effectually.
M‘Kenzie, after some feigned reluctance, at last agreed to the chief’s
proposition. They then asked him to withdraw; but this he peremptorily
refused, knowing from experience that they were least exposed in the
camp; for Indians are always averse to hostilities taking place in their
camp, in the midst of their women and children. Had the Indians foreseen
or been aware of the intention of the whites, they would never have
allowed them within their camp. But they were taken by surprise, and
that circumstance saved the whites. However, as soon as the chiefs
undertook the business, M‘Kenzie and his men stood still and looked on.
The chiefs went from house to house, and after about three hours time
they returned, bringing with them a large portion of the property, and
delivered it to M‘Kenzie, when he and his men left the camp and returned
home, bearing off in triumph the fruits of their valour; and well
pleased {223} with their hairbreadth adventure; an adventure not to be
repeated. And under all circumstances, it was at the time considered the
boldest step ever taken by the whites on Columbian ground.
This dispute with the Indians led to others; and if the whites got the
upper hand in the late affair, the Indians were determined to be even
with them in another way—for not a single horse would they sell, and on
horse-flesh M‘Kenzie and his men had to depend. On this head various
conferences took place between the parties, and higher prices than usual
were tendered; but the chiefs were inexorable. They had resolved either
to drive the whites off their country altogether, or make them pay the
most extravagant prices. The object of the whites in delaying their
departure was to procure horses, which would be absolutely required in
the event of Messrs. Stuart and Clarke acceding to the views of
M‘Dougall and M‘Kenzie; but the Indians, free and independent as the air
they breathed or the wind that blew, could not brook the restraint which
the whites were always affecting to exercise over them. After some
little time, all intercourse between the parties was at an end; not an
Indian was to be seen about M‘Kenzie’s camp, except by stealth in the
night, to beg, curry favour, or carry reports, yet five of these secret
spies were always kept in pay by M‘Kenzie to watch the motions of the
Indians, and through them he knew every move in the hostile camp.
At this time one of the spies reported that the {224} Indians had
plotted together to starve M‘Kenzie into terms, or drive him off
altogether. M‘Kenzie, on his part, had recourse to a stratagem to bring
them to terms. Both were on the alert. When the whites had nothing to
eat, the articles usually paid for a horse were tied up in a bundle;
that done, M‘Kenzie, with ten or twelve of his men, would sally forth
with their rifles to the grazing grounds of the horses, shoot the
fattest they could find, and carry off the flesh to their camp; leaving
the price stuck upon a pole alongside the head of the dead horse.
This manœuvre succeeded several times, and annoyed the Indians very
much; some of them lost their best horses by it. Then it was that they
combined to attack the whites in their camp. This news was brought
M‘Kenzie by one of his hired spies, and was confirmed by the fact of an
Indian offering to sell a horse for powder and ball only. From various
other suspicious circumstances, there remained but little doubt in the
minds of the whites but that there was some dark design in agitation. In
this critical conjuncture, M‘Kenzie again eluded their grasp by
ensconcing himself and his party in an island in the middle of the
river. There they remained, in a manner blockaded by the Indians; but
not so closely watched but that they appeared every now and then with
their long rifles among the Shahaptain horses; so that the Indians grew
tired of their predatory excursions, and therefore sent a messenger to
M‘Kenzie. A parley ensued between the main land {225} and the island;
the result of which was, that the Indians agreed to sell horses to the
whites at the usual price—the whites, on their part, to give up their
marauding practices.
Notwithstanding this formal treaty, the whites did not put implicit
faith in their Indian allies, nor deem it prudent to leave the island;
but the trade in horses went on briskly, and without interruption,
M‘Kenzie getting all his wants supplied. He bought, besides, an extra
reserve of eighty horses for contingencies, which he sent off to
Spokane; and on the return of his men he left the island, apparently on
good terms with the Indians, and reached the Walla Walla, to join his
associates, on the 1st of June.
When we reached the Walla Walla on the 30th of May, as already
mentioned, we were at a loss to account for the unusual movement and
stir among the Indians, who seemed to be assembling from all quarters in
great haste. The mystery was, however, soon cleared up when Mr. Clarke
joined us, and related the affair of the silver goblet at the Catatouch
camp. What did Stuart and M‘Kenzie say? What could any man say? The
reckless deed had been committed, and Clarke’s countenance fell when the
general voice of disapprobation was raised against him. The Indians all
along kept flying to and fro, whooping and yelling in wild commotion. At
this time, Tummeatapam came riding up to our camp at full speed. “What
have you done, my friends?” called out the old and agitated chief. “You
have spilt blood on our lands!” {226} Then pointing to a cloud of dust
raised by the Indians, who were coming down upon us in wild confusion—
“There, my friends, do you see them? What can I do?” The chief did not
dismount, but wheeling round his horse again, off he went like a shot,
leaving us to draw a salutary inference from the words “What can I do?”—
meaning, no doubt, that we had better be off immediately. Taking the
hint, we lost no time. Tents were struck; some had breakfasted, some
not—kettles and dishes were all huddled together and bundled into the
canoe, and, embarking pell-mell, we pushed with all haste from the
inauspicious shore. We pushed our way down the current, passing the
falls, the narrows, and the cascades, without the least interruption,
and arrived safe at Astoria on the 14th day of June. And here we shall
leave the party to recount to each other their various exploits, while
we take up the thread of Mr. Stuart’s adventures from Columbia to St.
Louis.
{227} CHAPTER XIV[80]
Mr. Stuart—Snake River—Trappers—Joyous meeting—Trappers’ resolution—
Crow Indians’ troubles—Horses change masters—Mr. Stuart on foot—
M‘Lellan left alone—Hardships of the party—Famine—Le Clerc’s horrid
proposition—The old bull—The old horse—Pilot knobs—Winter quarters—
Unwelcome visitors—Change of quarters—Spring—Travelling at random—An
Otto Indian—River Platte—Two traders—News of the war—The Missouri—
The old horse given for an old canoe—St. Louis—Mr. Astor—Wallamitte—
Falls—Scenery—Habits of the Col-lap-poh-yea-ass tribes—Concourse of
savages—M‘Dougall’s letter—M‘Kenzie’s stratagem—Indian
disappointment—The ship _Beaver_—Coasting voyage—Mr. Astor’s policy—
Captains—Their instructions—Mr. Hunt baulked in his plans—The Boston
merchants—Mr. Astor’s conduct—Difficulties of Mr. Hunt’s situation—
The ship _Albatross_—All the parties at headquarters.
When we left Mr. Stuart on the 31st of July last, he had then just
mounted his horse on his journey across land for St. Louis; we now
propose keeping him company, and will make such remarks during his
perilous route as barren, wild, and savage hordes may from time to time
suggest.
From Walla Walla the party journeyed onwards, first over the open
plains, and next across the Blue {228} Mountains, till at length they
fell on the Great Snake River, along which they occasionally continued
their route for many days without any interesting occurrence till the
20th of August, when they, by mere chance, stumbled on Mr. Miller, and
three of the beaver-trappers, Hoback, Rezner, and Robinson, fitted out
by Mr. Hunt.
It will be remembered that Mr. Miller abruptly left Mr. Hunt and party
to join one of the trapping parties. The joy manifested by both parties
at meeting was, as might be expected, the most cordial and lively. They
swore that they had met to part no more till they parted in that land
which had given them birth. So Mr. Miller and his prodigal children
joined Mr. Stuart with the determination to follow him to St. Louis.
These wanderers had been twice robbed by the Indians, had exhausted
their strength, wasted their means, and saved nothing; and seemed on the
present occasion quite overjoyed and happy at the prospect of once more
returning to their native homes. Yet what will the reader think when he
is told that only eight days after all these fine resolutions, they
again expressed a wish to remain where they were, and try their fortune
once more in the wilderness! Strange infatuation! Change of climate
seldom makes a change of character. Mr. Stuart reasoned with them, but
in vain; and at last, seeing them resolved, he supplied them with a new
and full equipment of everything they wanted. So the parties separated;
Mr. Miller following Mr. Stuart and his {229} party, while the other
three trappers bade them farewell, and stayed behind.
On the 7th of September they left the Great Snake River, and entered the
defiles of the mountains. Here they met some saucily-disposed Crow
Indians; but they got clear of them without harm, and Mr. Stuart
continued his toilsome journey, winding his way among the rugged and
rapid streams near the source of the Great Snake River to which they
drew near again, in the hopes of avoiding the Crows; but it mattered
little what course they steered, or what direction they took, the Crows
were everywhere at their heels; and in front provisions were also
scarce, and the party were now much reduced by hunger and fatigue.
On the 19th, early in the morning, the Crows, like a Scythian horde,
dashed on their little camp, giving the Indian war-whoop, and swept all
their horses off in a moment. This misfortune left them in an awful
plight. They stood motionless and hopeless. They had now to turn over a
new leaf, and from mounted cavalry, to become foot soldiers. They now
set about making up each man’s load, and what they could not carry they
destroyed on the spot rather than let any of it fall into the hands of
their implacable enemies, for their every movement was now watched with
an eagle’s eye by the Indians on the heights. To avoid, therefore, the
hostile Crows, they had to shun the buffalo, and run the risk of
starving or of going right into the jaws of the Blackfeet; but there was
no {230} alternative, and to lessen the evil as much as possible they
bent their course northward, through a country, in Mr. Stuart’s own
words, “more fit for goats than men;” and so closely were they watched
by the savages, that they could not venture to separate for the purpose
of hunting. They had likewise to keep watch by night, and were every
moment in danger of being surrounded or waylaid in the narrow and
intricate defiles through which they had to pass.
Yet these trying circumstances, when danger stared them in the face,
failed to unite them together in heart and hand. Mr. M‘Lellan, with a
fool-hardiness and wayward disposition peculiar to himself, left the
party in a pet, nor was it till the tenth day afterwards that he was
picked up, lying in his cheerless and forlorn encampment, without fire
or food, and reduced through hunger, fatigue, and cold to a mere
skeleton. Always perverse and stubborn, he had now become peevish and
sullen, yet in this torpid and reduced state he revived on seeing his
friends, became cheerful, and joyfully joined the party again; but being
unable to carry anything, or even to walk, the party halted for two days
that he might recruit a little, and then his rifle, pistols, and other
things being carried by the others, the party set forward on their
journey. They wandered about for five days and nights without a mouthful
to eat, and were now reduced to the last extremity; nor had they
strength to make use of their rifles, although now and then some deer
were seen.
{231} On the 15th of October, the sixth day of their fasting, just as
the party had halted for the night, Le Clerc, one of the Canadians,
proposed to cast lots, saying, “It is better one should die than that
all should perish.” Mr. Stuart reproved him severely; and as the fellow
stood haggard and wild before him, with his rifle in his hand, he
ordered the others to wrest it from his grasp. A watch was kept all
night, nor did Mr. Stuart himself close an eye. During this scene,
M‘Lellan, scarcely able to move, kept eyeing Le Clerc all the time, and
looking round for his rifle; but Mr. Stuart had put it out of the way.
Next day, however, Providence directed their forlorn steps to an old and
solitary buffalo bull, which they managed to kill, and this fortunate
rencontre saved their lives.
On the 18th, the wanderers fell in with a straggling camp of Snakes,
from whom they purchased a sorry old horse, the only one the ruffian
Crows had left with them. This horse appeared in their eyes a prize of
no small value. With him they set out, not a little cheered and
comforted by the two lucky acquisitions—the old bull and the old horse.
Our party were then wandering between the lofty Pilot knobs and the head
waters of the Missouri; but far from the latter. They now kept veering
more to the east, and advancing irregularly, as the valleys and ravines
opened a road for them to pass, till the snow and cold weather precluded
all hopes of getting much farther for this season, so that they began to
look {232} out for a place of security, and rest from their fatigues.
On the 2nd of November they pitched their camp for winter; built a
log-hut, and the buffalo being plenty, and the party tolerably recovered
in strength, they soon laid in an ample stock of provisions; but in the
wilderness all plans are precarious, hopes delusive. Our friends had not
been long in their comfortable quarters before they were pestered with
unwelcome visitors, for a war party of Arapahays discovered their
retreat, and annoyed them so much that they thought it best to look out
for some other quarters, more secluded and secure.
On the 13th of December they abandoned their dwelling with infinite
regret, and setting out through deep snows, over a rugged and
inhospitable country, they travelled for fifteen days, when a bleak and
boundless plain presented itself before them. Here they held a
consultation. The plain before them, destitute both of animals and
firewood, appeared like an ocean of despair. The more they reflected,
the more awful did their situation appear. At last they retraced their
wearied steps for about eighty miles, and took up a second position.
On the 30th of December they again pitched their winter camp, built a
house, laid in a stock of food, and found themselves once more in
comfortable quarters. In this last retreat the Indians did not find them
out, and there they awaited the return of spring.
{233} On the 20th of March they broke up their winter quarters, and in
two canoes, made during the winter, they essayed to push their way down
a broad but shoal river. In this, however, they failed, and leaving
their canoes they took to land again with their old but faithful
Snake-horse. All this time they were wandering in hopes of reaching some
known branch of the Missouri: for they had lost their way, and did not
know where they were for the last three months.
On the 1st of April the party fell in with an Indian of the Otto tribe.
This stranger gave them to understand that they were then treading on
the banks of the River Platte, and not far from white men. The same
Indian then conducted them to Messrs. Dornin and Roi, two Indian
traders, established in that quarter. From these gentlemen Mr. Stuart
got the first news of the war between Great Britain and the States; and
they also undertook to furnish him with a canoe for the voyage down the
Missouri, in exchange for the old and faithful Snake-horse.
On the 16th they all embarked, and after descending about fifty miles on
the River Platte they found themselves on the broad and majestic
Missouri, down which with buoyant spirits they now pushed their way,
without accident or interruption, till they reached St. Louis on the
30th of April. Mr. Stuart lost no time in acquainting Mr. Astor with his
safe arrival at that place with despatches from Columbia, {234} and that
the success and prospect of affairs there were such as to warrant the
most flattering results.
The information conveyed by Mr. Stuart was hailed by Mr. Astor as a sure
presage of future prosperity: and, in his exultation, he said, “That
will do; I have hit the nail on the head.” Mr. Stuart’s journey with so
small a party, across a region so distant, wild, and hostile, was
fraught with many perils and privations. During the period of ten long
months, he was never free from danger and anxiety. The eventual success
of that expedition, so often reduced to extremities, reflects great
credit on him who conducted it. Leaving now Mr. Stuart to enjoy himself
among his friends at St. Louis, we shall go back to Columbia again to
see what has been doing in the Wallamitte quarter.
The Wallamitte quarter has always been considered by the whites as the
garden of the Columbia, particularly in an agricultural point of view,
and certain animals of the chace; but in the article of beaver, the
great staple commodity of the Indian trader, several other places, such
as the Cowlitz, Blue Mountains, and She Whaps, equal, if not surpass it.
In the spring of 1812, Mr. M‘Kenzie had penetrated some hundred miles up
the Wallamitte River, but more with the view of exploring the southern
quarter, seeing the Indians, and studying the topography of the country,
than for the purpose of procuring beaver. This year another party,
fitted out by M‘Dougall on a beaver-trading excursion, spent some months
{235} in that quarter, among the Col-lap-poh-yea-ass. These parties
penetrated nearly to the source of the Wallamitte, a distance of five
hundred miles. It enters the Columbia by two channels, not far distant
from each other; the most westerly is the main branch, and is distant
from Cape Disappointment from eighty to ninety miles, following the
course of the river. The Wallamitte lies in the direction of south and
north, and runs parallel with the sea-coast; that is, its source lies
south and its course north. In ascending the river the surrounding
country is most delightful, and the first barrier to be met with is
about forty miles up from its mouth.
Here the navigation is interrupted by a ledge of rocks running across
the river from side to side, in the form of an irregular horse-shoe,
over which the whole body of water falls at one leap down a precipice of
about forty feet, called the Falls. To this place, and no farther, the
salmon ascend, and during the summer months they are caught in great
quantities. At this place, therefore, all the Indians throughout the
surrounding country assemble, gamble, and gormandize for months
together. From the mouth of the Wallamitte up to the falls it is
navigable for boats only, and from the falls to its source for canoes,
and it is sufficiently deep for the ordinary purposes of the Indian
trader. The banks of the river throughout are low, and skirted in the
distance by a chain of moderately high lands on each side, interspersed
here and there with clumps of {236} wide-spreading oaks, groves of pine,
and a variety of other kinds of wood. Between these high lands, lie what
is called the Valley of the Wallamitte, the frequented haunts of
innumerable herds of elk and deer.
The natives are very numerous and well disposed; yet they are an
indolent and sluggish race, and live exceedingly poor in a very rich
country. When our people were travelling there, the moment the report of
a gun was heard forth came the natives; men, women, and children would
follow the sound like a swarm of bees, and feast and gormandize on the
offal of the game, like so many vultures round a dead carcass; yet every
Indian has his quiver full of arrows, and few natives are more expert
with the bow. The names of the different tribes, beginning at the mouth
of the river and taking them in succession as we ascend, may be ranged
in the following order:—Wa-come-app, Naw-moo-it, Chilly-Chandize,
Shook-any, Coupé, She-hees, Long-tongue-buff, La-malle, and Pee-you
tribes; but as a great nation they are known under the general name of
Col-lap-poh-yea-ass, and are governed by four principal chiefs.[81] The
most eminent and powerful goes by the name of Key-ass-no.[82] The
productiveness of their country is, probably, the chief cause of their
extreme apathy and indolence; for it requires so little exertion to
provide for their wants, that even that little is not attended to; they
are honest and harmless, yet there is a singular mixture of simplicity
and cunning {237} about them. The river, towards its head waters,
branches out into numerous little streams, which rise in the mountains.
There is also another fine river near the source of the Wallamitte; but
lying rather in the direction of east and west, called the Imp-qua; this
river empties itself into the ocean.[83] The finest hunting-ground on
the Wallamitte is towards the Imp-qua. There beaver is abundant, and the
party that went there to trade this year made handsome returns; but the
Indians throughout are so notoriously lazy that they can hardly be
prevailed upon to hunt or do anything else that requires exertion.
Yet, with all their apathy and inertness, we find that they can be
roused into action; for while M‘Kenzie was visiting their country, a
slight quarrel took place between some of them and a white man, named
Jervais, at the Wa-come-app village. Jervais had beaten one of the
Indians, which gave great offence to the tribe; and they had been
muttering threats in consequence.[84] M‘Dougall, hearing of the
circumstance, sent off a letter to apprize M‘Kenzie, that he might keep
a good look-out on his way back, as the Indians intended to intercept or
waylay him. M‘Kenzie arrived at the hostile camp, situate at the mouth
of the Wallamitte, crossed to the opposite or north side of the
Columbia, and then went on shore, without in the least suspecting what
was going on, although he had remarked once or twice to his people, the
unusual multitude of Indians collected together, and their bold and
daring appearance; and {238} also that Key-ass-no, the chief, had not
come to see them. On his way up, M‘Kenzie had left his boat at the falls
till his return, and now took it down with him. While he was revolving
in his mind those suspicious appearances, one of a neighbouring tribe
slipped into his hand, privately, M‘Dougall’s letter. The moment he read
the letter he was convinced of his critical situation, and whispered to
his men to be ready to embark at a moment’s warning. But, behold, the
tide had left his boat high and dry on the beach. What was now to be
done? Always fertile, however, in expedients, he feigned the greatest
confidence in the Indians, and at the same time adopted a stratagem to
deceive them. He told them he had some thoughts of building among them,
and would now look for a suitable site; for which reason, he said, he
would stay with them for the night, and requested them to prepare a good
encampment for him, which they immediately set about doing. This threw
the Indians off their guard, as they could then accomplish their purpose
more effectually, and with less risk. This manœuvre had the desired
effect. Some of the Indians were busied in clearing the encampment;
others he amused in looking out for a place to build, till the following
tide set his boat afloat again; then taking advantage of it, he and his
men instantly embarked and pushed before the current, leaving the
Indians in painful disappointment, gazing at one another. Next morning
they arrived safe among their friends at Astoria.
{239} Before we close the account of this year’s campaign, we must take
up the subject of the ship _Beaver_, Capt. Sowle, from New York, with
the annual supplies, who arrived at Astoria, as we have before noticed,
on the 9th of May, after a voyage of 212 days. The _Beaver_ remained at
the infant establishment of Astoria till the 4th of August. On the 6th,
she crossed the bar with some difficulty, having grounded twice, which
so frightened old Sowle, the captain, that he was heard to say “I’ll
never cross you again.” Having cleared the bar, she left the Columbia on
a three months’ cruise along the coast, towards the Russian settlements
at Kamtschatka, intending to be back again about the latter end of
October, and as had been settled upon in the council of partners. Mr.
Hunt was on board. It may, however, be easily inferred that this was a
part of Astor’s general plan, that the man at the head of affairs should
accompany the ship on her coasting trip. It was so with the _Tonquin_,
as well as with the _Beaver_; and this again goes far to prove how
little Astor cared about the Columbia, or those carrying on the business
there, when the man at the head of the establishment was liable to be
removed from his important charge, and sent as a peddling supercargo on
board the ship, merely for the purpose of receiving a few seal-skins
from old Count Baranhoff, at Kamtschatka.[85] This, as I have already
said, was done by Astor’s orders; for he, in his arm-chair at New York,
regulated all the springs of action at {240} Astoria, just as if he had
been on the spot. Work well, work ill, his commands remained like the
laws of the Medes and Persians: there was no discretionary power left to
alter them.
The ship, therefore, with Mr. Hunt on board, reached her destination
without any accident or delay; visited New Archangel, Sitka, and St.
Paul’s, taking in at these places a valuable cargo of furs, chiefly
seal-skins; but was detained in these boisterous seas much longer than
had been calculated upon, for she had not left the most northern of
these parts, which is St. Paul’s, before the beginning of November.[86]
And here we have another instance of that fatal policy pursued by Astor
in giving to his captains powers which made them independent of the
consignees. This was the case with Captain Thorn, who left what he
pleased, and carried off what he pleased; and when M‘Dougall and the
other parties remonstrated with him for leaving the infant colony so
bare, he put his hand in his pocket and produced his instructions from
Astor, which at once shut their mouths. The same game was now played by
Captain Sowle. Mr. Hunt could not prevail upon him, on his way back from
the Russian settlements, to touch at Columbia; and when Mr. Hunt
threatened to remove him and give the command to another, he then, as
Captain Thorn had done before him, produced his private instructions
from Mr. Astor, justifying his proceedings; for after Mr. Hunt’s arrival
{241} at Columbia, he often repeated, in the anguish of his soul, that
“the underhand policy of Astor and the conduct of his captains had
ruined the undertaking.” In this perplexing situation, Mr. Hunt had to
submit, and Captain Sowle, spreading his canvass, steered for the
Sandwich Islands direct, carrying Mr. Hunt, like a prisoner, along with
him. From the Sandwich Islands, the _Beaver_ sailed for Canton, in the
first week of January, 1813; a serious loss to Astor, and the ruin of
Astoria.
It was a part of Mr. Astor’s general plan to supply the Russian
factories along the coast with goods; and it would appear, from the
conduct of his captains, that to this branch of the undertaking he
devoted his chief attention; reserving for them the choicest part of all
his cargoes, and for Columbia the mere refuse. This alone gave great
umbrage to the partners at Astoria; it soured their dispositions to see
many articles which they stood in need of pass by their door.
While at Woahoo, Mr. Hunt heard some faint rumours of the war, but
nothing certain. The Boston merchants had, at a great expense, fitted
out, it was said, a despatch ship for the Pacific, in order to apprise
the coasting vessels there of the declaration of war. But Mr. Hunt could
gain no certain information on that head; because Astor had not
contributed his mite towards the expense of fitting out the vessel, they
were determined not to let the least hint of it reach Hunt, who was
therefore left in the dark. {242} Can anything point out in a clearer
light Astor’s indifference about the fate of his little devoted colony
at Columbia, than his not joining the Boston merchants, or taking any
steps whatever to apprise the Astorians of the war?
In the mean time, Mr. Hunt waited at the Sandwich Islands, in the hope
that another annual ship from New York might cast up for the relief of
Astoria; but waited in vain. At last, by the arrival of the ship
_Albatross_, Captain Smith, from Canton, he was no longer in doubt as to
the declaration of war; and this increased his anxiety to get back to
Astoria. Chartering, therefore, the ship _Albatross_, he sailed in her,
after a ruinous delay, and arrived safe at Astoria on the 20th of
August. And this brings the parties once more to Astoria, and closes the
transactions of the year.
{243} CHAPTER XV
Meeting of the partners—Warm discussion—M‘Kenzie—Eloquence of the
times—Reasons for dissolving the company—Dissenting partners
converted—Final resolve—The deputy’s powers—Departure of the
brigade—A canoe lost—A man’s leg in jeopardy—Rumours at the narrows—
Snake party—Rumours renewed—Tummeatapam’s counsel—Hostile appearance
at the forks—Number of Indians—Nez Percés’ fleet—Fears of the
whites—Indian visit—Strong guard—Mr. Clarke—Relic of the silver
goblet—Mr. Hunt at Astoria—Face of affairs changed—Mr. Hunt departs
from Astoria—North-West squadron—A great Eri duped—Bill of sale—
Petty manœuvring—Rumours of ships—The Astorians at their post—Bills
signed—Astoria delivered up—North-West Company.
Astoria now became the scene of business and bustle. A council was
convened, and a second meeting of the partners took place. Last year
their expectations were raised to the highest pitch, and everything
promised an abundant harvest of wealth and glory: the present state of
affairs was somewhat clouded with reverses and cross purposes. The
resolutions of M‘Dougall and M‘Kenzie last winter, to abandon the
undertaking, were now discussed anew: on the one hand, M‘Dougall found
great {244} fault with Clarke and Stuart for not taking such steps for
leaving the country as were pointed out in the resolutions alluded to;
on the other hand, these gentlemen were equally displeased with
M‘Dougall for having acted, as they considered, prematurely and without
their consent. Two days were spent in mutual recrimination: at last
M‘Kenzie, who had hitherto left both parties to settle the dispute the
best way they could, now sided with M‘Dougall, and poured forth such a
torrent of persuasive eloquence, backed by facts, that the opposite
party were reduced to silence.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “why do you hesitate so long between two opinions?
your eyes ought to have been opened before now to your own interests. In
the present critical conjuncture, there is no time to be lost: let us
then, by a timely measure, save what we can, lest a British ship of war
enter the river and seize all. We have been long enough the dupes of a
vacillating policy—a policy which showed itself at Montreal on our first
outset, in refusing to engage at once a sufficient number of able hands.
“At Nodowa that policy was equally conspicuous. Did not Astor’s private
missive to Mr. Hunt at that place give umbrage to all? Did not his
private orders to Mr. Hunt to put his nephew, with one scratch of his
pen, over the heads of all the clerks in the concern add to that
umbrage? Could there be anything more impolitic and unjust? Could there
be any measure more at variance with the letter and {245} the spirit of
the articles of agreement? Did not his private instructions to his
captains annihilate the power and authority of the partners? When the
unfortunate _Tonquin_ left this, what did she leave behind? did she not,
by virtue of Astor’s private instructions to her captain, carry
everything off that was worth carrying off? Has not the same line of
policy been pursued in the case of the _Beaver_? And this year there is
no ship at all! Has it not been obvious from the beginning, that under
Astor’s policy we can never prosper? and, besides, there are other
untoward matters over which Mr. Astor had no control, such as the delay
of the _Beaver_, the absence of Mr. Hunt, our formidable rivals the
North-West Company, and, to crown all, the declaration of war.
“Now, gentlemen, all these inauspicious circumstances taken together
point out, in my opinion, the absolute necessity of abandoning the
enterprize as soon as possible. We owe it to Astor—we owe it to
ourselves; and our authority for adopting such a course is based on the
15th and 16th articles of the co-partnership, which authorize us at any
time within the period of five years to abandon the undertaking, should
it prove impracticable or unprofitable. Not, gentlemen, that there is
any fault in the country—no country, as to valuable furs, can hold out
better prospects; but Astor’s policy, and a chain of misfortunes, have
ruined all. Astor, with all his sagacity, either does not or will not
understand the business. The system we were bound to follow was {246}
bad, and that system we cannot alter; so that we are bound in honour to
deliver the whole back into the hands from which we received it—and the
sooner the better.” These representations, stamped with the authority of
experience, had the desired effect; the resolution to abandon the
country was adopted, and Messrs. Stuart and Clarke gave it their cordial
consent: as it was now too late to carry it into execution this year, it
was postponed till the next; and the 1st of June was the time fixed upon
for our departure.
These preliminary arrangements being now completed, a resolution was
signed on the 1st of July, by all the partners present, to dissolve the
concern and abandon the enterprize the next year. It was then resolved
that Mr. Stuart should betake himself to his post at the She Whaps, and
that Mr. Clarke should proceed to Spokane, while Mr. M‘Kenzie was to
winter on the Wallamitte, with the express understanding that we were
all to meet again at Astoria next May, and to take our final departure
from that establishment on the 1st of June, unless a new supply should
arrive, and peace be concluded before that time. That Mr. Reed, with
some hunters and trappers, should pass the winter in the Snake country,
collect the stragglers still wandering through that quarter, and at a
certain point await the arrival of the main body, and join it on its way
across.
Meanwhile, Mr. M‘Dougall was still to continue in the command of Astoria
until Mr. Hunt’s return. {247} M‘Dougall was also empowered, in the
event of Mr. Hunt’s non-arrival, to treat with Mr. M‘Tavish for the
transfer of all the goods and furs belonging to the Pacific Fur Company
in the country, at certain fixed prices, should that gentleman be
disposed to purchase on behalf of the North-West Company, considering a
sale of this nature, under all circumstances, to be a safer speculation
than the conveyance of so much property across the long and dangerous
route to St. Louis. Such were the resolutions passed on the present
occasion, and copies of them all were delivered over to M‘Tavish, to be
forwarded to Mr. Astor by the North-West Company’s winter express. The
parties then left Astoria for the interior on the 5th of July.
We have now so often related the voyage up and down the Columbia, that
on the present occasion it will not be necessary to dwell on minute
details; suffice it to say, therefore, that we reached the cascades or
first barrier without any remarkable occurrence, till we got opposite to
Strawberry Island, where one of the canoes in ascending the rapid,
sheered out in the stream, whirled round and round, and upset. With
great difficulty and danger the men were saved, but a good deal of
property was irrecoverably lost, and, among other things, a box of mine,
containing books and mathematical instruments, quadrant, sextant, and a
valuable pair of pistols—all went to the bottom. It is a singular fact,
that we have never yet once been able to pass {248} this Charybdis
without paying tribute either to the natives or the whirlpools: but
misfortunes seldom come alone, and to add to the confusion, as we were
all running to and fro saving the men’s lives and the property, Mr.
Cox’s gun, being held in some awkward and careless position, went off,
and both balls passed through the calf of Mr. Pillet’s right leg, but
fortunately without breaking the bone.
Proceeding onwards, we passed the long narrows and the Wyampam banditti,
for the first time, without any trouble. It was, however, rumoured here
that we were to be attacked in passing the forks; that the Indians had
assembled there in hostile array. And here Mr. Clarke would fain have
avoided the encounter; he made several attempts, but in vain, to engage
a guide to lead him through the interior by a back path. At the
Umatallow, the small party bound for the Snake country left us, and
departed in the direction of the Blue Mountains.
On reaching the Walla Walla, about six miles from the forks, Tummeatapam
made signs for us to go on shore. Here the good old Sachem appeared much
agitated, and sat for some time without uttering a single word. At last
he broke silence, and exclaimed—“White men! white men!” then pointing to
a dark cloud of dust rising near the forks, said, “There they are—there
they are!” Then taking up a handful of sand and throwing it in the air,
exclaimed again—“They are as numerous as the grains of sand; the Indians
have bad hearts: I am hoarse with speaking {249} to them; but they will
not listen to me.” He advised us earnestly to turn back; but seeing us
determined to ascend the river, he asked leave to embark and accompany
us: but this we refused. We took him, however, to one of our boats, and
showed him a brass four-pounder, some hand-grenades, and skyrockets;
then giving him some tobacco to smoke, we embarked, and crossing over to
the right-hand side, pushed on along shore; the Indians being all on the
left bank. As we advanced, the Indians, mounted in numerous squadrons,
kept flying backwards and forwards, seemingly bent on some great design.
We paddled on, however, without a moment’s delay, anxious to get to a
certain point a little beyond the forks, but on the opposite side of the
river, which is here nearly a mile broad. When we came just opposite to
the Indians, they all formed into one mass, and could not have been less
than two thousand, with a fleet of one hundred and seventy-four canoes
along the beach. Their appearance was certainly very imposing and
formidable; and the noise of the war-dance and war-song, mingled with
whooping and yelling, was terrific. We in the mean time reached the
wished-for point, landed, took our stand, fortified our camp, and
awaited the threatened attack. This took place in the afternoon, about
two hours before sunset. All at once the canoes were launched, and we
beheld fifty-seven of them filled with people making for our camp. All
was suspense. Every man squatted down with his gun in his hand, and his
finger on the trigger. As {250} the fleet approached our anxiety
increased, till Mr. Stuart, who kept eyeing them all the time with a
spy-glass, called out—“There is nothing to fear; there are women and
children in the canoes.” This was glad news to some of our party, who
were more intent on saying their prayers than on fighting. By this time
they had got almost close to us, when they all disembarked at the
distance of about two hundred yards. Mr. Stuart, advancing to meet them,
drew a line on the sand, as much as to say, “Do not pass this:” they
obeyed—the pipe of peace was smoked, and laid aside. After a short
pause, a few harangues were made. They smoked again; a trifling present
followed; the business was ended, and at dusk the Indians returned
quietly to their camp. We supposed that Tummeatapam’s account of our big
gun influenced their conduct not a little. Their peaceable behavior,
however, did not altogether quiet our apprehensions; a strong watch was
set for the night, and before the morning dawn every man had his gun in
his hand; but the Indians had disappeared. This demonstration of the
Indians prevented Mr. Clarke from proceeding to his destination by the
usual route. He had therefore to continue with us, and pass by
Oakinacken for Spokane, making a circuitous route of more than three
hundred miles.
From the forks, we proceeded without interruption till we reached
Oakinacken on the 15th of August, where I was to winter; and here we
shall leave the different parties to proceed to their respective {251}
quarters, while we, in the mean time, return back a little to see what
is going on at Astoria.
It has already been stated that Mr. Hunt arrived at Astoria, in the ship
_Albatross_, on the 20th of August. He was mortified to find, from the
resolutions of the 1st of July, that the partners had made up their
minds to abandon the country. M‘Dougall and M‘Kenzie now exerted their
reasoning powers to convince Mr. Hunt of their desperate and hopeless
situation. Nor could that gentleman, with all his zeal for the interest
of Mr. Astor, and the success of his enterprize, shut his eyes or close
his ears against facts so self-evident. After weighing, therefore, all
the circumstances of our situation, Mr. Hunt acquiesced in the measures
that had been taken, and likewise confirmed the powers given to Mr.
M‘Dougall to transfer the goods and furs to the North-West Company.
These points being settled, Mr. Hunt, after remaining a week at Astoria,
left the Columbia again in the _Albatross_. This vessel was bound for
the Marquesas, and Mr. Hunt took a passage in her with the view of
purchasing a ship to carry the furs at Astoria to market, in the event
of no transfer being made to the North-West Company, as well as to
convey thirty-two Sandwich Islanders, now in the service of the Company,
back to their own country; and here I shall take my leave of Mr. Hunt
for the present, and return to my post at Oakinacken.
Everything now assumed a calm and tranquil {252} aspect; the die was
cast; we were now but sojourners for a day; the spring would remove us
to other scenes, and till then we had to make the best we could of the
passing hour. Under this impression, I soothed myself with the hope of
passing a quiet winter, thinking at times on our disappointments. After
all our labours, all our golden dreams, here is the result! Well might
we say, with Solomon, that “all is vanity!” While musing one day on
passing events, I was surprised all at once by the arrival of a strong
party of North-Westers, seventy-five in number, in a squadron of ten
canoes, and headed by Messrs. M‘Tavish and Stuart, two North-West
bourgeois, on their way to the mouth of the Columbia, in high glee, to
meet their ship, the _Isaac Todd_, which was expected daily. Mr. Clarke
also accompanied the North-West brigade, on his way to Astoria. With the
craft peculiar to Indian traders, they had crammed down Mr. Clarke’s
throat that nothing could be done at Astoria without him, although his
accompanying them was like the third wheel to a cart; but it answered
their purpose: for his leaving Spokane threw at once all the trade of
the district into their hands, and Mr. Clarke found out, when it was too
late, that he had been duped. At Astoria, the party arrived safe on the
7th of October.
Here it was that the negotiation between the two great functionaries,
M‘Dougall and M‘Tavish, commenced. The terms were soon adjusted, and the
prices fixed. The whole of the goods on hand, both at Astoria {253} and
throughout the interior, were delivered over to the North-West Company,
at 10 per cent. on cost and charges. The furs were valued at so much per
skin. The whole sales amounted to 80,500 dollars: M‘Tavish giving bills
of exchange on the agents for the amount, payable in Canada. This
transaction took place on the 16th of October, and was considered fair
and equitable on both sides.[87]
But, after all, a good deal of petty manœuvring took place, not very
creditable to the representative of a great body. M‘Tavish expected the
armed ship _Isaac Todd_, fitted out as a letter of marque, into the
river daily, and in that case Astoria would have been captured as a
prize, and become the property of the North-West Company without
purchase; and besides, he had learned that the British Government had
despatched a ship of war to cruise on the coast of the Pacific, and that
she might be looked for hourly; and the moment she entered the river all
the American property, as a matter of course, would have been seized as
a prize. In either case, M‘Tavish would have saved his bills of
exchange. Under this impression he put off from time to time, under
various pretences, the signing of the documents. M‘Dougall and M‘Kenzie,
however, saw through this piece of artifice, and insisted that the
business should be ratified at once. M‘Tavish, however, full of
commercial wiles, tried to evade and retard every step taken. M‘Dougall,
in the mean time, had a squadron of boats in readiness, should any
suspicious vessel come in {254} sight, to transport the furs and goods
up to the Wallamitte out of her reach. While matters were in this
unsettled state, Mr. M‘Kenzie suggested a decisive measure, which
brought the negotiation to a speedy close.
M‘Tavish and his party were encamped at the time within a few yards of
the fort, and sheltered, as it were, under the protection of our guns.
They were also indebted to the generosity of the Astorians for their
daily supplies; being themselves without goods, ammunition, or
provisions.
One morning before daylight Messrs. M‘Dougall and M‘Kenzie summoned all
hands together, seventy-two in number, and after a brief statement of
the views of the North-West in reference to the negotiation, ordered the
bastions to be manned, the guns to be loaded and pointed, and the
matches lighted. In an instant every man was at his post, and the gates
shut. At eight o’clock a message was sent to M‘Tavish, giving him two
hours, and no more, either to sign the bills or break off the
negotiation altogether and remove to some other quarters. By eleven
o’clock the bills were finally and formally signed, and Astoria was
delivered up to the North-West Company on the 12th of November, after
nearly a month of suspense between the drawing and the signing of the
bills.
{255} CHAPTER XVI
Mr. Franchère—Comecomly’s anxiety—His report of a sail—His attachment
to the Americans—Laframboise, the interpreter—Mr. M‘Dougall’s visit—
The _Racoon_ sloop-of-war—Comecomly grows partial to the British
flag—North-West partners—British officers—Astoria changed to Fort
George—Captain Black’s character—Mr. Hunt’s voyage—Commodore Porter—
Mr. Hunt leaves the Marquesas—Arrival at the Sandwich Islands—
Rumours—The ship _Lark_—Eight persons perish—Columbian affairs—The
property delivered—No ice—The people assembled—Voyage—The Cascade
banditti—Two North-West canoes—North-West affray at the cascades—Mr.
Stuart wounded—Mr. Keith’s conduct—Preparations for war—The great
expedition—Conduct of the Cath-le-yach-é-yach Indians—Expedition
fails—The effect—Remarks.
The fate of unfortunate Astoria being now sealed, and the place in the
possession of the North-West Company, the Astorians looked on merely as
indifferent spectators. Mr. Franchère was the only clerk in the American
service who showed a wish to join the new comers. He was a Canadian from
Montreal; and in those days the North-West stood high in Canada, and
particularly in Montreal.[88] There they were everything, and the
Canadian voyageurs {256} had a liberal share of their bounty. It was
therefore natural for him to join that body which was the admiration of
his countrymen.
On the 29th of November, Comecomly arrived in great haste at Astoria,
with a report that a sail had been seen off the Cape, and expressed
great alarm lest it might be a King George ship. He did not wish, he
said, to see any more Britons among them. He and his people were fond of
the Americans, and would make war against any other people entering the
river. The old chief uttered this threat in an angry determined tone.
Then turning to M‘Dougall, he said, “See those few King George people
who come down the river: they were poor; they had no goods, and were
almost starving; yet you were afraid of them, and delivered your fort
and all your goods to them; and now King George’s ships are coming to
carry you all off as slaves. We are not afraid of King George’s people.
I have got eight hundred warriors, and we will not allow them to enslave
you. The Americans are our friends and allies.” M‘Dougall tried to
console him, and told him that the British would not hurt the Americans.
He also rewarded the chief’s devotedness to the American cause with a
new suit of clothing; then told him to keep a sharp look-out to discover
whether the ship was British or American; forbidding, at the same time,
either himself or his people to go on board. This he promised faithfully
to do, and went off highly pleased.
{257} The moment Comecomly left Astoria, Laframboise, the interpreter,
was called in, decked and painted in the full Chinook costume, and
despatched to Cape Disappointment to report whether a vessel was to be
seen, and if so, whether British or American.[89] In the mean time,
M‘Dougall prepared to start the instant a ship was seen. Laframboise had
scarcely reached the Cape when the ship hove in sight, and soon
afterwards came dashing over the bar in fine style, and anchored in
Baker’s Bay, within the Cape. Laframboise immediately returned, and on
his way back met Mr. M‘Dougall, in a boat well manned, going to the
ship, and told him that the new arrival was a British ship of war.
M‘Dougall proceeded, and after remaining for about an hour on board
returned to Astoria and reported the vessel to be the _Racoon_ British
sloop of war, of twenty-six guns, Captain Black, commander.
As soon as M‘Dougall had left the _Racoon_, his royal father-in-law,
with a squad of followers, repaired to the ship to pay their homage to
the British captain. Then the crafty old chief traduced the Americans
and extolled the British; expressing his joy that he had lived long
enough to see once more a great ship of his brother King George enter
the river. Then, with a grin of contempt, he remarked, “The Americans
have no ships to be compared to King George’s ships.” Saying this, he
laid a fine sea-otter skin at Captain Black’s feet, and prepared to
leave the ship. The captain called {258} him back, gave him a good
bumper of wine, and in return for so much loyalty presented him with an
old flag, a laced coat, cocked hat, and sword. His Chinook majesty then
left the _Racoon_, and returned to shore as staunch a Briton as ever he
had previously been an American partisan. But the best part of the farce
was to see Comecomly sailing across, the very next day, to Astoria in
full British uniform, with the Union Jack flying at the masthead.
On board of the _Racoon_ was Mr. M‘Donald, one of the senior partners of
the North-West Company, generally known by the name of Brascroche.[90]
He assumed forthwith the direction of affairs at Astoria. Comecomly soon
got into his sleeve; and before the former was twenty-four hours in
office, the latter had a new chief’s suit on.
On the second day after the _Racoon_ came to anchor, Captain Black and
his officers landed at Astoria, and found they had been baulked in their
expectations; the place being already in the possession of the
North-West Company by an amicable arrangement. They laughed heartily at
their own disappointment, for they had made up their minds that the
capture of Astoria would yield them a rich prize; but in place of a
golden egg they found only an empty shell. After visiting the place,
Captain Black, turning round to one of his officers, said, “The Yankees
are always beforehand with us.”
On the 12th day of December, the death-warrant {259} of short-lived
Astoria was signed. On that day, Captain Black went through the
customary ceremony of taking possession, not only of Astoria, but of the
whole country. What the vague term of “whole country” in the present
case meant, I know not. Does it mean the Columbia? Does it mean all the
country lying west of the Rocky Mountains? Or does it merely mean the
coast of the Pacific? That part of the ceremony which referred to the
“whole country” might have been dispensed with; for the country had
already been taken possession of in the name of his Britannic Majesty,
and that many years ago, by Drake, by Cooke, by Vancouver, and lastly by
Black. The name of Astoria was now changed to that of Fort George; and
this done, the _Racoon_ prepared to leave the Columbia. Captain Black
was a gentleman of courteous and affable manners. He was never once
heard to utter an oath or indecorous expression all the time he was in
the river; and there was a general and sincere regret felt when he left
Fort George.
Having now detailed the principal occurrences at Astoria, we return to
take up the subject of Mr. Hunt’s voyage. The reader will bear in mind
that Mr. Hunt sailed in the _Albatross_ in August last, for the
Marquesas, where he arrived safe. Nor had he been long there till he met
with Commodore Porter,[91] of the United States’ frigate _Essex_, from
whom he learned that a British frigate called the _Phœbe_, with two
sloops of war, the _Cherub_ and _Racoon_, were on {260} their way to
Columbia. Hearing this, Mr. Hunt tried his uttermost to get some
assistance from Captain Porter in order to secure the American property
now in jeopardy at Astoria, but to no purpose. The commodore would not
budge, having no instructions from his government to that effect; and
having besides learned, no doubt, that Mr. Astor refused to join the
Boston merchants in their praiseworthy designs. Mr. Hunt, now finding
all his efforts at the Marquesas fruitless, sailed for the Sandwich
Islands, and landed at Woahoo on the 18th of December. While at that
island, he received the disastrous intelligence that a vessel bound for
Columbia had been wrecked some time previous, at the island of
Tahvorowa.[92] Thinking it possible that it might be a vessel from Astor
bound for Astoria, he repaired thither with all possible despatch, and
found, to his mortification, that his conjectures were but too true.
The vessel in question proved to be the _Lark_, Captain Northcop, bound
for Astoria. The _Lark_, which ought to have sailed in September, 1812,
did not leave New York till the 6th of March, 1813, the very time when
she was expected to arrive at the place of her destination. And this
unaccountable delay of six months accelerated the downfall of
unfortunate Astoria; for had the _Lark_ left New York at the usual time,
and reached the Columbia, her seasonable arrival would have beyond a
doubt changed the face of affairs.
{261} But there was a fatality attending the ships bound for Columbia,
and the loss of the _Lark_ added another link to the chain of
misfortune. This ill-fated vessel upset in a squall, about 250 miles
from the Sandwich Islands, and so sudden and unexpected was the violent
wind, that not a hatch was shut at the time, so she filled with the
second wave and became completely water-logged. The sufferings of the
crew were extreme: they remained lashed to the bowsprit for four days
and four nights without drink, food, or sleep! the rest of the vessel
being completely under water. On the eighth day after the accident, a
jury-mast was rigged, and a small scaffolding erected, on which the men
could sleep. Still their sufferings from thirst and hunger were
intolerable, their only drink a little wine, and a very scanty supply of
raw pork their food. On the twelfth day they came in sight of land, and
six days after that they abandoned the ship and got to shore. Up to the
time of their leaving the ship, six men, a boy, and one of the officers
perished, and the rest of the crew were so reduced from various causes,
that they were utterly incapable of helping themselves, much less the
sinking ship. Soon after the vessel was abandoned, it neared the beach,
stranded, and went to pieces. Nor could all the efforts of the captain
prevent the savage horde from seizing and destroying everything that
came in their way; and not only that, but they effectually prevented him
or any of the crew from approaching the wreck, or touching anything the
{262} waves threw on shore. Nor did the tumultuous spirit of the rabble
subside till they stripped the shipwrecked men of their clothes, as well
as the vessel of her cargo; so that the condition of the sufferers was
very little improved by their getting to land.
During these proceedings, Mr. Ogden, the supercargo, set off for Woahoo,
the residence of king Tammeatameah, to claim protection and restitution
of the property; but behold! his majesty told him in few words that the
wreck belonged to the state. “Who,” said Tammeatameah, “brought the ship
to shore?” “The waves,” replied Mr. Ogden. “Then the waves are mine,”
rejoined the king. “Had you brought the vessel to land,” said his
majesty to Mr. Ogden, “the ship and cargo both would have belonged to
you, and I should have granted you protection and restitution; but as
you abandoned the wreck at sea, and fortune drove it on my territories,
the wreck is no longer yours but mine. The clothing you and your people
brought to shore, shall be restored; but whatever was in the ship, at
the time of her stranding or grounding, belongs to me:” and here the
conversation ended.
Such, then, was the fate of the unfortunate _Lark_, and such the
statement of her commander to Mr. Hunt on his arrival at the Sandwich
Islands; and here again we must leave Mr. Hunt in the happy isles, while
we go back to see what is passing in the Columbia interior, and after
that we shall return {263} again to the subject of Mr. Hunt’s voyage: by
so doing, we shall conform better to the natural connection of the
different subjects, without perplexing the reader’s attention. In the
mean time, it may be stated that Messrs. M‘Kenzie and John Stuart
proceeded to the interior, to see the property delivered over to the
North-West Company, agreeably to the late contract. After these
gentlemen had settled the business at Spokane, and assembled all the
people of the late concern belonging to that district, they came to me
at Oakinacken on the 15th of December: here also Mr. Stuart, from the
She Whaps, had arrived with the men of that quarter. Finishing, then,
the business at Oakinacken, we all prepared to embark, and left that
place for Fort George on the 20th of December.
On our way down the Columbia, such was the mildness of the winter that
not a speck of ice was to be seen. At the head of the cascades, a place
always notorious for its bad population, we encamped, and were disturbed
all night by the whooping and yelling of savages, who kept prowling in
the woods round us. Notwithstanding the strictest watch, several arrows
were shot into our camp, and a man named Plessis was wounded in the ear.
We fired several shots into the woods, from a three-pounder, which kept
the Indians at a distance. In the morning we passed the cascades
peaceably, and arrived safe at Fort George on the 7th of January, 1814.
The people from the Wallamitte had just reached that place before us.
{264} Below the cascades, there is no impediment whatever to the
navigation of the river, by night or by day. The brigade, therefore,
went sweeping down the current in the dark. In passing the last of the
bad places, however, my boat happening to get broken, we had to put
ashore to repair, and, by the time we got under weigh again, the brigade
had left us far behind. Next morning at daybreak, I met, opposite to the
Wallamitte, two North-West canoes and twenty men, under the direction of
Messrs. Keith and Alex. Stuart, two partners of the North-West Company,
on their way to the interior.[93] We breakfasted together, and I
strongly advised them to turn back, since so small a party, and
strangers too, could never hope to pass through the hostile tribes in
safety. They, however, made light of the matter, giving me to understand
that they were North-Westers! so we parted, and they proceeded. While
talking on the subject of danger, one of those swelling fellows, such as
may be ordinarily seen stuck up in the end of a north-west canoe, with a
bonnet of feathers surpassing in size the head of a buffalo bull, turned
round to my men and said,—“Do you think we are Americans? we will teach
the Indians to respect us.” In the darkness of the night, they had not
seen our people on their way down. The moment Mr. M‘Kenzie reached Fort
George, he represented to M‘Donald and M‘Tavish the folly and danger of
the attempt; consequently, a canoe with twelve men, under the direction
of Mr. Franchère, was immediately {265} despatched to bring them back;
but it was unfortunately too late.
On Messrs. Keith and Stuart’s arrival at the portage of the cascades,
the Indians collected, as usual, in great numbers; but did not attempt
anything till the people had got involved and dispersed in the portage;
they then seized the opportunity, and began to help themselves; they
drew their bows, brandished their lances, and pounced upon the
gun-cases, powder-kegs, and bales of goods, at the place where Mr.
Stuart was stationed. He tried to defend his post, but owing to the wet
weather his gun missed fire several times, and before any assistance
could reach him he had received three arrows, and his gun had just
fallen from his hand as a half-breed, named Finlay, came up and shot his
assailant dead. By this time the people had concentrated, and the
Indians fled to their strongholds behind the rocks and trees. To save
the property in this moment of alarm and confusion was impossible; to
save themselves, and carry off Mr. Stuart, was the first consideration.
They, therefore, made for their canoes with all haste, and embarked.
Here it was found that one man was missing, and Mr. Keith, who was still
on shore, urged the party strongly to wait a little; but the people in
the canoes called on Mr. Keith, in the tone of despair, to jump into the
canoe or else they would push off and leave him also; but he, being a
resolute man and not easily intimidated, immediately cocked his gun and
threatened to shoot the first man that {266} moved. Mr. Stuart, who was
faint from loss of blood, seeing Mr. Keith determined, and the men
frightened out of their wits, beckoned to Mr. Keith to embark. The
moment he jumped into the canoe they pushed off and shot down the
current; nor had they proceeded far before they met Mr. Franchère, who
had been sent after them. Both canoes then hastening day and night,
reached the fort the second day. During this time Mr. Stuart suffered
much, and was very low, nor had his wounds been yet examined. The barbs
of the arrows were of iron, and one of them had struck on a stone pipe
which he carried in his waistcoat pocket, and to that fortunate
circumstance he perhaps owed his life: one of these barbs it was found
impossible to extract, and he suffered great pain, and was confined to
bed for upwards of two months. He then began gradually to recover. On
the ninth day the man who had been abandoned in the affray with the
Indians reached the fort in a state of nudity, having torn his clothes
wandering through the woods, suffering at the same time the miseries of
cold and hunger; and thus terminated the first adventure of the
North-West on the Columbia.
The object of this expedition was threefold—to forward despatches for
the east side of the mountains, to convey supplies of ammunition to the
interior, and thence to proceed to the Snake country for Mr. Reed and
his party; but the unlucky affair at the cascades knocked the whole on
the head, and taught the {267} strutting and plumed bullies of the north
that, although they were North-Westers, the lads of the cascades did not
respect their feathers.
This disaster set the whole North-West machinery at Fort George in
motion. Revenge for the insult, and a heavy retribution on the heads of
the whole Cath-le-yach-é-yach nation, was decreed in a full council; and
for a whole week nothing was to be heard about the place but the clang
of arms and the sound of war. Every man worth naming was armed
_cap-à-pie_, and besides the ordinary arms and accoutrements, two big
guns, six swivels, cutlasses, hand-grenades, and handcuffs, with ten
days’ provisions, were embarked; in short, all the weapons and missiles
that could be brought into action were collected and put in train for
destroying the vile banditti of the cascades, root and branch.
Eighty-five picked men and two Chinook interpreters, under six chosen
leaders, were enrolled in the expedition, and the command of it tendered
to Mr. M‘Kenzie, who, however, very prudently declined the honour,
merely observing that as he was on the eve of leaving the country, he
did not wish to mix himself up with North-West affairs; but that he
would cheerfully go as a volunteer. The command then devolved on Mr.
M‘Tavish; and on the 20th of January, with buoyant hearts and flags
flying, a fleet of ten sail conveyed the invincibles to the field of
action, where they all arrived safe on the third day, and cast anchor at
Strawberry Island, near the foot {268} of the rapids. On their way up,
the name of this formidable armament struck such terror into the
marauders along the river, that they fled to the fastnesses and
hiding-places of the wilderness; even the two Chinook interpreters could
neither sleep nor eat, so grieved were they at the thoughts of the
bloody scenes that were soon to follow.
On the next morning after the squadron came to anchor, the Indians were
summoned to appear and give an account of their late conduct, and they
were desired if they wished mercy to be extended towards them, to
deliver up at once all the property plundered from the expedition of
Messrs. Keith and Stuart. The Cath-le-yach-é-yach chiefs, not the least
intimidated by the hostile array before them, sent back this answer,
“The whites have killed two of our people, let them deliver up the
murderers to us, and we will deliver to them all the property in our
possession.” After returning this answer, the Indians sent off all their
wives and children into the thick woods; then arming themselves, they
took their stand behind the trees and rocks. M‘Tavish then sent the
interpreters to invite them to a parley, and to smoke the pipe of peace.
The Indians returned for answer, that “When the whites had paid
according to Indian law for the two men they had killed, they would
smoke the pipe of peace, but not till then. Their wives and children
were safe, and as for themselves they were prepared for the worst.” And
this was all the progress that was made during the first day.
{269} The next day the interpreters were sent to sound them again.
Towards noon a few stragglers and slaves approached the camp and
delivered up a small parcel of cloth and cotton, torn up into pieces,
and scarcely worth picking up, with this message from the chiefs:—“We
have sent you some of the property; deliver us up the murderers, and we
will send you the rest.” Some were for hanging the Indians up at once;
others for detaining them: at last, however, it was resolved to let them
go, and they departed. In the evening two of the principal Indians
surrendered themselves to M‘Tavish, bringing also a small parcel of
odds-and-ends, little better than the last. Being interrogated on the
subject of the stolen property, they denied being present at the time,
and had cunning enough to make their innocence appear, and also to
convince M‘Tavish that they were using their utmost influence to bring
the Indians to terms, and deliver up the property. A council was then
held to decide on the fate of the prisoners. Some were, as in the former
case, for hanging them up without judge or jury; some for taking them
down to Fort George in irons. The council was divided, and at last it
was resolved to treat the prisoners liberally and let them go; and, to
the disgrace of the expedition, they were set at liberty—nor did they
ever return again; and thus ended the negotiations of the second day.
The third day the interpreters were at work again; but in place of
making any favourable impression on {270} the Indians, they were told
that if they returned again without delivering up the murderers, they
would be fired upon. During this day, the Indians came once or twice out
to the verge of the woods. Some were for firing the big guns where they
were seen thickest; others, more ardent, but less calculating, were for
storming their haunts, and bringing the matter to a speedy issue. Every
movement of the whites was seen by the Indians, but not a movement of
the Indians could be discerned by the whites; and the day passed away
without any result. Next morning it was discovered that some of the
Indians lurking about had entered the camp and carried off two guns, a
kettle, and one of the men’s bonnets, and the Indians were seen
occasionally flying from place to place, and now and then whooping and
yelling, as if some plan of attack were in contemplation. This was a new
symptom, and convinced the whites that they were getting more bold and
daring in proportion as their opponents were passive and undecided.
These circumstances made the whites reflect on their own situation. The
savages, sheltered behind the trees and rocks, might cut them all off
without being seen; besides, it was intimated by the interpreters that
the Indians might all this time be increasing their numbers by foreign
auxiliaries; and whether true or false, the suggestion had its effect in
determining the whites that they stood upon dangerous ground, and that
the sooner they left it the better. They therefore, without recovering
the property, firing a gun, or securing {271} a single prisoner, sounded
the retreat, and returned home on the ninth day—making the matter ten
times worse than it was before. This warlike expedition was turned into
ridicule by the Cath-le-yach-é-yachs, and had a very bad effect on the
Indians generally; but the best of it was, on their way back, some
turned off towards the Wallamitte to hide their disgrace, others
remained for some days at the Cowlitz, and M‘Tavish himself reached Fort
George in the night; and so ended this inglorious expedition, which
promised so much and did so little.
Here it may be observed that the nature of the ground along the
cascades, on both sides of the river, is such as to afford no position
secure from attack or surprise; and it showed a manifest want of
judgment, not only in a military commander, but in an Indian trader, to
expose his people in such a dangerous situation, where the Indians might
have waylaid and cut them off to a man, and that without quitting their
fastnesses; whereas the whole difficulty might have been easily
obviated—for a very simple stratagem on the part of the whites might
have quietly secured, as hostages, three or four of the principal men,
and that would have soon settled effectually the whole affair, without
noise or any warlike demonstration.
{272} CHAPTER XVII
Party to the Wallamitte—Hunt’s voyage concluded—The brig _Pedlar_—
M‘Dougall suspected—His character vindicated—Mr. Hunt’s remarks on
the late concern—His liberality—His farewell address to the clerks—
Final departure from Columbia—The party for Canada—Efforts and
disappointments—Snake expedition—The melancholy story of Pierre
Dorion’s wife—Massacre of the Snake party—Remarks—A winter in the
Blue Mountains—List of casualties—Astor’s hopes disappointed—Comment
on the late concern.
After the late expedition to the cascades, in which our people had mixed
themselves up with the North-West Company, and of course came in for a
share of the general odium, they retired to pass the remainder of the
winter in the Wallamitte—a place notorious for gormandizing; and here we
shall leave them to enjoy, in peace and quietness, the fruits of the
chace, while we turn again to take up and finish the wanderings of Mr.
Hunt, who, it will be remembered, was left at the Sandwich Islands in
quest of a vessel.
After Mr. Hunt had learned the fate of the unfortunate _Lark_, as
already related, he had but one course {273} left, namely, to purchase a
ship and return to Columbia with all possible despatch. On meeting with
Captain Northcop, he bargained for and purchased a snug little brig for
ten thousand five hundred and fifty dollars, called the _Pedlar_, from
Boston, and giving the command of her to the captain of the _Lark_, they
embarked, bade a farewell to the Sandwich Islands on the 22nd of
January, and sailed direct for the Columbia River, where they arrived,
after a rather tedious voyage, on the 28th of February.
When Mr. Hunt arrived, he expressed himself dissatisfied with some
points of the negotiation that had taken place; but chiefly with that
part of it which related to the sale of the furs. But it was now too
late: the whole business was irrevocably settled. To repine or find
fault was therefore useless; and, under all circumstances, Mr. M‘Dougall
had perhaps made the best bargain he could. Nor was it likely that two
men placed in different positions, such as Mr. Hunt at the Sandwich
Islands and M‘Dougall at Columbia, could view the same object in the
same light. The circumstance, however, of M‘Dougall having joined the
North-West Company, and having already become a partner in that concern,
threw suspicion on his conduct, and this perhaps, weighed more heavily
on Mr. Hunt’s mind than anything else; and certainly, to say the least
of it, M‘Dougall’s conduct, in this particular, was indiscreet, and
might in some degree justify imputation—at least, his enemies made a
handle of it; yet there is not the least proof that he {274} had
betrayed his trust. M‘Dougall always bore the character of integrity; he
was a man of principle, faithful to his word, and punctual to his
engagements; but at times he was overbearing, peevish, haughty, and
obstinate; and this unfortunate temper had well nigh proved fatal to the
undertaking in the commencement of his career at Astoria. With these
slight exceptions, however, M‘Dougall’s conduct was fair and
unimpeachable. He was not a man of fortune; he had already sacrificed
four years of his time on the Columbia; and, besides, it was not
M‘Dougall that proffered his services, nor was he more than half
inclined to accede to the offers made to him—this we know; but it was
the North-Westers themselves who wished to secure him, being aware that
he was a man of ambition, and fond of enterprize. His experience also
gave him a strong ascendant. M‘Dougall had been with the nabobs of the
North-West before, and did not leave them without tasting of the bitter
cup of disappointment; he could, therefore, have had no predilection in
their favour. Add to this, that previous to any arrangement with the
North-West Company, he had finally closed Mr. Astor’s affairs, and
delivered up all the papers and documents of that concern into the hands
of Mr. M‘Kenzie. This delivery was confirmed by Mr. Hunt.
On the 27th of March, as soon as the people from all quarters were
assembled together, and the papers and drafts belonging to Mr. Astor
delivered over to Mr. M‘Kenzie, Mr. Hunt called all the clerks before
{275} him, and, entering into a full detail of the unfortunate
circumstances which brought about the failure of the enterprize, he
expressed his deep and sincere regret that so much talent and zeal had
been employed to no purpose, and thrown to the winds; that we had been
the pioneers of a more successful and fortunate rival; that the
North-Westers would now reap the fruits of our industry; and the only
consolation left us was that every man had done his duty, and to
circumstances over which we had no control might chiefly be attributed
the failure of our undertaking. He then went on:—
“My friends, I am now about to leave you, and it may be that we part to
meet no more. I am exceedingly sorry that it is not in my power to
reward you according to your zeal and merit. There are two of you,
however, to whom I am in honour bound to make some acknowledgment before
leaving this place; they having come here not for salary, but for
promotion. As a small testimony of my regard, I have placed at their
disposal five hundred dollars each, and wish it were even more for their
sakes. I am to leave this place by sea, and those of you who prefer that
course may embark with me; while for those who feel disposed to remain
in the country, I have made such arrangements with the North-West
gentlemen as may turn to their advantage. For those that will accompany
me I shall do my utmost to provide; the same I’ll do for those that
remain, or go home by land, if in my power.” These words were {276} not
the hollow efforts of cunning or deceit; they were the genuine
expressions of the heart. For Mr. Hunt was a conscientious and upright
man—a friend to all, and beloved as well as respected by all. I found
five hundred dollars placed to my account, and Mr. Seaton the same; we
being the pair alluded to by Mr. Hunt.
On the 3rd of April Mr. Hunt, accompanied by Mr. Halsey, Mr. Seaton, Mr.
Clapp, and Mr. Farnham, embarked on board the _Pedlar_ at three o’clock
in the afternoon, and took their final departure from Fort George. Mr.
M‘Lennan, Ross Cox, and myself, entered the North-West service; and I
proceeded to resume my former charge at Oakinacken.
On the 4th of April the North-West brigade left Fort George for the
interior, and along with it Messrs. M‘Kenzie, Stuart, and Clarke, with
all those of the late concern intending to leave the country, set out on
their journey across land for Montreal, Mr. Franchère among the number.
It will be recollected that he had entered the North-West service; but
by mutual consent he became free, and preferred accompanying the party
for Canada. We shall now leave the Montreal party on their journey, and
turn to another subject.
It will be remembered, that one of the objects of the unfortunate
expedition of Messrs. Keith and Stuart was to proceed to the Snake
country in search of Mr. Reed and his party, who were sent {277} thither
last summer; but that expedition having failed, it was now proposed that
Mr. Keith with a small party should undertake the business, and proceed
to Spokane Fort. From the mouth of the Umatallow, Mr. Keith was to have
taken his departure, and a guide was there engaged for the purpose; but
when everything was arranged, and the party ready to start, the guide
expressed a wish to continue with the brigade as far as the Walla Walla,
and from thence set out for the Snake country. Mr. Keith and his party
accordingly reembarked, and we reached the Walla Walla early the next
day; here, again, we were on the eve of starting, when a few Indians
arrived, and with them the wife of Pierre Dorion the interpreter.[94]
The timely arrival of this poor unfortunate woman put an end to the
Snake expedition; and we shall relate her melancholy story in her own
words:—
“About the middle of August we reached the Great Snake River, and soon
afterwards, following up a branch to the right hand, where there were
plenty of beaver, we encamped; and there Mr. Reed built a house to
winter in. After the house was built, the people spent their time in
trapping beaver. About the latter end of September, Hoback, Robinson,
and Rezner came to us; but they were very poor, the Indians having
robbed them of everything they had about fifteen days before. Mr. Reed
gave them some clothing and traps, and they went to {278} hunt with my
husband. Landrie got a fall from his horse, lingered a while, and died
of it. Delaunay was killed, when trapping: my husband told me that he
saw his scalp with the Indians, and knew it from the colour of the hair.
The Indians about the place were very friendly to us; but when strange
tribes visited us, they were troublesome, and always asked Mr. Reed for
guns and ammunition: on one occasion, they drove an arrow into one of
our horses, and took a capot from La Chapelle. Mr. Reed not liking the
place where we first built, we left it, and built farther up the river,
on the other side. After the second house was built, the people went to
trap as usual, sometimes coming home every night, sometimes sleeping out
for several nights together at a time. Mr. Reed and one man generally
stayed at the house.
“Late one evening, about the 10th of January, a friendly Indian came
running to our house, in a great fright, and told Mr. Reed that a band
of the bad Snakes, called the Dog-rib tribe, had burnt the first house
that we had built, and that they were coming on whooping and singing the
war-song. After communicating this intelligence, the Indian went off
immediately, and I took up my two children, got upon a horse, and set
off to where my husband was trapping; but the night was dark, the road
bad, and I lost my way. The next day being cold and stormy, I did not
stir. On the second day, however, {279} I set out again; but seeing a
large smoke in the direction I had to go, and thinking it might proceed
from Indians, I got into the bushes again and hid myself. On the third
day, late in the evening, I got in sight of the hut, where my husband
and the other men were hunting; but just as I was approaching the place,
I observed a man coming from the opposite side, and staggering as if
unwell: I stopped where I was till he came to me. Le Clerc, wounded and
faint from loss of blood, was the man. He told me that La Chapelle,
Rezner, and my husband had been robbed and murdered that morning. I did
not go into the hut; but putting Le Clerc and one of my children on the
horse I had with me, I turned round immediately, took to the woods, and
I retraced my steps back again to Mr. Reed’s: Le Clerc, however, could
not bear the jolting of the horse, and he fell once or twice, so that we
had to remain for nearly a day in one place; but in the night he died,
and I covered him over with brushwood and snow, put my children on the
horse, I myself walking and leading the animal by the halter. The second
day I got back again to the house. But sad was the sight! Mr. Reed and
the men were all murdered, scalped, and cut to pieces. Desolation and
horror stared me in the face. I turned from the shocking sight in agony
and despair; took to the woods with my children and horse, and passed
the cold and lonely night without food or fire. I was now at a {280}
loss what to do: the snow was deep, the weather cold, and we had nothing
to eat. To undertake a long journey under such circumstances was
inevitable death. Had I been alone I would have run all risks and
proceeded; but the thought of my children perishing with hunger
distracted me. At this moment a sad alternative crossed my mind: should
I venture to the house among the dead to seek food for the living? I
knew there was a good stock of fish there; but it might have been
destroyed or carried off by the murderers; and besides, they might be
still lurking about and see me: yet I thought of my children. Next
morning, after a sleepless night, I wrapped my children in my robe, tied
my horse in a thicket, and then went to a rising ground, that overlooked
the house, to see if I could observe anything stirring about the place.
I saw nothing; and, hard as the task was, I resolved to venture after
dark: so I returned back to my children, and found them nearly frozen,
and I was afraid to make a fire in the day time lest the smoke might be
seen; yet I had no other alternative, I must make a fire, or let my
children perish. I made a fire and warmed them. I then rolled them up
again in the robe, extinguished the fire, and set off after dark to the
house: went into the store and ransacked every hole and corner, and at
last found plenty of fish scattered about. I gathered, hid, and slung
upon my back as much as I could carry, and returned {281} again before
dawn of day to my children. They were nearly frozen, and weak with
hunger. I made a fire and warmed them, and then we shared the first food
we had tasted for the last three days. Next night I went back again, and
carried off another load; but when these efforts were over, I sank under
the sense of my afflictions, and was for three days unable to move, and
without hope. On recovering a little, however, I packed all up, loaded
my horse, and putting my children on the top of the load, set out again
on foot, leading the horse by the halter as before. In this sad and
hopeless condition I travelled through deep snow among the woods, rocks,
and rugged paths for nine days, till I and the horse could travel no
more. Here I selected a lonely spot at the foot of a rocky precipice in
the Blue Mountains, intending there to pass the remainder of the winter.
I killed my horse, and hung up the flesh on a tree for my winter food. I
built a small hut with pine branches, long grass, and moss, and packed
it all round with snow to keep us warm, and this was a difficult task,
for I had no axe, but only a knife to cut wood. In this solitary
dwelling, I passed fifty-three lonely days! I then left my hut and set
out with my children to cross the mountains; but I became snow blind the
second day, and had to remain for three days without advancing a step;
and this was unfortunate, as our provisions were almost exhausted.
Having recovered my sight a little, I set out again, and got clear off
the mountains, and down {282} to the plains on the fifteenth day after
leaving my winter encampments; but for six days we had scarcely anything
to eat, and for the last two days not a mouthful. Soon after we had
reached the plains I perceived a smoke at a distance; but being unable
to carry my children farther, I wrapped them up in my robe, left them
concealed, and set out alone in hopes of reaching the Indian camp, where
I had seen the smoke; but I was so weak that I could hardly crawl, and
had to sleep on the way. Next day, at noon, I got to the camp. It proved
to belong to the Walla Wallas, and I was kindly treated by them.
Immediately on my arrival the Indians set off in search of my children,
and brought them to the camp the same night. Here we staid for two days,
and then moved on to the river, expecting to hear something of the white
people on their way either up or down.”
This ended the woman’s story of hardships and woe. That it was the
Snakes who killed the party there is not the least doubt. The Dog-ribbed
tribe have always passed for bad Indians; and besides, in the dead of
winter, neither the Blackfeet on the east, nor the Nez Percés on the
north, can wage war with the Snakes at that season of the year.
In recapitulating the number of casualties or disasters which befell the
Pacific Fur Company during its short existence, we cannot help lamenting
so great a sacrifice of human life in so limited a period. The tragical
list stands thus:—
{283} Lost on the bar 8
Land expedition 5
_Tonquin_ 27
_Astoria_ 3
_Lark_ 8
Snake country 9
Final departure 1
——
Total 61
Well might we, with Virgil, say, “Who can relate such woes without a
tear!”
We have now brought together, and within a small compass, the accounts
of all the different and widely extended branches of the concern. That
concern which proposed to extend its grasping influence from ocean to
ocean, and which, to use the projector’s own words, “was to have
annihilated the South Company; rivalled the North-West Company;
extinguished the Hudson’s Bay Company; driven the Russians into the
Frozen Ocean; and with the resources of China to have enriched America.”
But how vain are the designs of man! That undertaking which but
yesterday promised such mighty things, is to-day no more.
Various in those days were the opinions entertained as to the merits of
the undertaking in a speculative light; but few there were who saw
clearly through the mist inseparable from a novel and remote design. The
means were ample, the field {284} unbounded, and the River Columbia was
the contemplated centre of a trade conducted by talent, and in the hands
of a nation which, in the natural course of events, must soon encircle
the remotest parts of the earth, and draw within its sphere of action
the fairest portion of the fur trade.
It is therefore not surprising that the jealousy of the Canada traders
should have eagerly seized on the first opportunity to check the
encroachments, or extinguish the rising fame of this infant but gigantic
rival. The course of events was favourable to their ambition, and the
end justified the means conducive to their future aggrandizement.
The multifarious avocations of Mr. Astor must inevitably have prevented
his bestowing the requisite degree of attention on each particular
subject which came under his consideration. Hence, matters within his
immediate reach, or which appealed to his own experience, engrossed his
special care as objects of primary importance; while, on the other hand,
those referring to a distance, or which he had not habitually at heart,
were neglected by him as comparatively trivial.
During the slow progress of a distant and struggling establishment,
exposed to the cruelty and rapacity of savages, or the perils of
uncertain navigation, it may be naturally expected that the owner should
lean to such other parts of the undertaking as may hold out a fair
promise of recompensing for the hazard of the adventure. Hence it was
that {285} his ships were the chief objects of his solicitude; that the
captains retained his special trust; that the settlement was ill
supplied; and hence the ungenerous dispensation of his confidence among
its venturesome though too credulous leaders.
Had he, however, acquired such insight into the practice of the Indian
as he so eminently attained in all other branches of trade; had his mind
been as liberal as it was acute, or as ready to reward merit as to find
fault; or were he as conversant with human nature as he was expert in a
bargain; and had he also begun his undertaking not at the commencement
of a war, but at its close, then competency and ease might have been the
lot of his servants, instead of misery and want—success might have
crowned his ambition, glory finished his career, and the name of Astor
might have been handed down with admiration, as having borne away the
palm of enterprize.
{286} CHAPTER XVIII
Origin of the Oakinackens—Religion—Good Spirit—Evil Spirit—Ideas of a
future state—Ceremonies—End of this world—Extent of country—Names
and number of tribes—Warriors—Population—Royal family—The great
chief, or Red Fox—Wild hemp—Long journeys—Barter—Emblem of royalty—
Government—Indian ideas—Council of chiefs—Manners—Employments—
Plurality of wives—Brawls—Dress and clothing—Stratagems—A savage in
wolf’s clothing—Painted faces and sleek hair.
After closing the drama of the Pacific Fur Company we shall now raise
the curtain a little, and take a cursory peep at the Indians of the
interior; but more particularly of the Oakinackens.
The origin of savage nations is mixed up with so much fable that it is
scarcely possible, through the mist of tradition, to trace their descent
clearly to any source: nor can this surprise us when we consider how
unsatisfactory the most learned inquiries often prove, with respect to
the origin of many civilized nations. Indeed, all that can be aimed at
is to state distinctly and fairly the opinions handed down from one
generation to another, and currently believed by the people themselves.
{287} The origin of the Oakinackens is thus related:—Long ago, when the
sun was young, to use their own expression, and not bigger than a star,
there was an island far off in the middle of the ocean, called
Samah-tuma-whoolah, or White Man’s Island. The island was full of
inhabitants of gigantic stature, and very white, and it was governed by
a tall white woman, called Scomalt. The good woman Scomalt, possessing
the attributes of a deity, could create whatever she pleased. The white
people on this island quarrelled among themselves, and many were killed
in the affray, which conduct so enraged Scomalt that she drove all the
wicked to one end of the island, then broke off the part on which they
stood, and pushed it adrift to the mercy of the winds and waves. There
they floated about for a length of time, not knowing whither they went.
They were tossed about on the face of the deep till all died but one man
and woman, and this couple finding the island beginning to sink with
them made a canoe, and paddling for many days and nights, going in a
westerly direction, they came to a group of islands, and kept steering
through them till they made the main land—the land which they now
inhabit—but they say that it has grown much larger since that time. This
couple, when first expelled from the island of their forefathers, were
very white, like the other inhabitants of the island; but they suffered
so much while floating on the ocean that they became dark and dingy from
the exposure, and their skins {288} have retained that colour ever
since. From this man and woman all the Indians of the continent have
their origin; and as a punishment for their original wickedness, they
were condemned by the great Scomalt to poverty, degradation, and
nakedness, and to be called Skyloo, or Indians.
The religion of the Oakinackens, like that of all Indian tribes, is
difficult to understand, and still more difficult to explain. They,
however, believe in a good and an evil spirit, who preside over the
destinies of man, and that all good actions will be rewarded, and all
evil deeds punished in a future state. The good spirit, or master of
life, they call Elemehum-kill-an-waist, or Sky-appe; and the bad spirit,
Kisht-samah, or Chacha; both are invincible, and keep constantly moving
to and fro through the air, so that nothing can be done unknown to them.
They believe that all good Indians after death go to the
Elemehum-kill-an-waist, and that the wicked who kill and steal, go to
the Kisht-samah. On all solemn occasions they offer up a short prayer to
the good spirit for his assistance and help. They have no places of
worship, public or private. The god whom they adore is invincible. In
all their religious ceremonies the great pipe of peace is smoked as a
peace-offering to the Eleme-hum-kill-an-waist, and also on all occasions
of peace or war, or other matters of state; and this is done by holding
the pipe (when filled and lighted) first to the east, or rising sun, and
drawing three whiffs; then to the west or setting sun; next to the
heavens above; and, {289} lastly, to the earth beneath—in each case
taking care to draw three whiffs. This religious part of the ceremony is
gone through only by the chief when the first pipe is filled, before
entering upon business. Then the chief hands the pipe to his next
neighbour, who smokes without any ceremony, and he to the next, and so
on. At the conclusion of the business there is no ceremony observed.
They believe that this world will have an end, as it had a beginning;
and their reason is this, that the rivers and lakes must eventually
undermine the earth, and set the land afloat again, like the island of
their forefathers, and then all must perish. Frequently they have asked
us when it would take place—the its-owl-eigh, or end of the world.
The Oakinackens inhabit a very large tract of country, the boundary of
which may be said to commence at the Priest’s Rapids on the south;
from thence, embracing a space of upwards of one hundred miles in
breadth, it runs almost due north until it reaches the She Whaps,
making a distance of more than five hundred miles in length; within
this line the nation branches out into twelve tribes, under different
names. These form, as it were, so many states belonging to the same
union, and are governed by petty chiefs, who are, in a manner,
independent; nevertheless, all are ready to unite against a common
enemy. These tribes, beginning at the southern boundary and taking
each according to its locality, may be classed as follows:—
Ska-moy-num-achs, Ke-waught-chen-unaughs, {290} Piss-cows,
Income-can-étook, Tsill-ane, Inti-étook, Battle-le-mule-emauch, or
Meat-who, In-spellum, Sin-poh-ell-ech-ach, Sin-who-yelp-pe-took,
Sa-milk-a-nuigh, and Oakinacken, which is nearly in the centre.[95]
All these tribes, or the great Oakinacken nation, speak the same
language; but often differ a good deal from one another as to accent.
The whole nation, or twelve tribes taken together, could never muster
above six hundred warriors. The number of souls I was never able to
ascertain correctly; but, considering the extent of country they
possess, they are far from being numerous. I should say there are not
more than fifteen persons to every square mile. The Oakinackens are
not a warlike people; fishing and hunting, and not war, are their
usual occupations.
The principal family of the Oakinacken nation bears the title or name of
Conconulps, being the name of the place where the members of it
generally reside, which is situate about nine miles up the beautiful
stream of the same name.[96] The head, or principal chief of this
family, died last year, leaving the inheritance or chieftainship to
Quills-chin-eigh-an, his eldest son, about twenty-five years of age. The
old man himself was called Who-why-laugh, or Red Fox.
The old chief was a venerable and worthy savage: his influence was great
over a wide circle, not only at home, but abroad among the neighbouring
tribes. The Red Fox had been many times with his young {291} men at the
Great Salt Lake, as they call it, meaning the Pacific, the direct road
to which, across the mountains, is almost due west to where they fall on
the sea-coast, in about the 49th degree of north latitude. They take
generally fifteen days to make the journey, sometimes more, sometimes
less, according to circumstances. Traffic is their object: they carry
along with them the wild hemp of the interior, prepared and neatly put
up into small parcels, which they give in exchange for the higua and
trinkets. The hemp is used for making fishing-nets, and is always in
great demand on the coast. The higua, which has already been noticed, is
the most valuable commodity among the Indians to be found west of the
Rocky Mountains, being the circulating medium throughout the country.
The royal insignia of an Indian king or chief is simple, and is always
known in the camp. The Oakinacken emblem is a white wolf-skin,
fantastically painted with rude figures of different colours—the head
and tail decorated with the higua, bears’ claws, and the teeth of
different animals—suspended from a pole, in a conspicuous place near the
chief’s lodge.
On our first arrival among this people, the wolf-skin was always to be
seen waving conspicuously from the pole; but as they began to associate
and got accustomed to us, they became less particular in exhibiting the
ensigns of royalty. But although they occasionally threw off the savage
ferocity and wild aspect peculiar to savages in general, yet they could
{292} not be brought, even after years of friendly intercourse, to
change their habits of life. The morose, sullen, and unsociable
disposition still remained the same; whereas, on the contrary, the white
man almost immediately falls into the customs and ways of the savages.
An Indian accustomed to squat on the ground, and double himself up in
the lodge, is long, long indeed before he can reconcile himself to sit
in a chair; but the white man is at once at home in the Indian lodge,
and becomes as easy and contented sitting, squatting, or lying amongst
dirt and filth, dogs and fleas, as if in his arm-chair at home—showing
how much more easy and natural it is for civilized men to degenerate,
than for the savage to elevate himself to the habits of civilized men;
but here I should observe, that the Oakinackens are by no means
ferocious or cruel, either in looks, habits, or dispositions; but are,
on the contrary, rather an easy, mild, and agreeable people.
The government, or ruling power among the Oakinackens, is simple yet
effective, and is little more than an ideal system of control. The
chieftainship descends from father to son: it is, however, merely a
nominal superiority in most cases. Their general maxim is, that Indians
were born to be free, and that no man has a natural right to the
obedience of another, except he be rich in horses and has many wives;
yet it is wonderful how well the government works for the general good,
and without any coercive power to back the will of the chief, he is
seldom {293} disobeyed: the people submit without a murmur. On all state
occasions, of peace or war, the chief has the assistance of a council;
that is, he calls all the great men together, they form a ring,
sometimes in the chief’s lodge, sometimes in the open air. No one is
admitted into the council, except he can show some marks or trophy of
war, or has performed some praiseworthy deed, according to their ideas,
or else he must be rich in horses or have many wives; or, lastly, he may
be called by the chief, and that entitles him to a seat without any
other qualification. The council being seated, and the ceremonial pipe
smoked, the chief, in his usual sitting posture, holds down his head, as
if looking to the ground, then opens the business of the meeting by a
speech, closing every sentence with great emphasis, the other
councillors vociferating approbation. As soon as the chief is done
speechifying, others harangue also; but only one at a time. The decision
of the council is sure to be zealously carried into effect; but, in all
ordinary matters, the chief is not more conspicuous than any other
individual, and he seldom interferes in family affairs, or the ordinary
routine of daily occurrences: and this, I think, adds greatly to the
dignity of his character.
Each nation or principal tribe has generally two chiefs; one for the
village, and another called the war chief. The former is the head of the
tribe; and, as already observed, holds his office by lineal descent: the
latter is elective, and chosen by the voice or {294} whim of the
majority of the people. Every morning at the dawn of day, the head chief
rides or walks round the camp or village, and harangues as he goes: the
business of the day is then and there settled; but he never interferes
with the affairs of families or individuals. All the movements of the
camp, as a whole, as well as hunting and other matters of consequence,
are settled by the chief’s authority alone; and all weightier matters,
of peace or war, are settled by the chief and council.
The manners of the Oakinackens are agreeable, easy, and unassuming, and
their dispositions mild. They are at times subject to gusts of passion,
but it soon blows over; and, on the whole, they are a steady, sincere,
shrewd, and brave people. They are generally of the middle size, light,
and well made, and better featured and handsomer in their persons,
though darker, than the Chinooks or other Indians along the sea-coast.
The circumstances of climate will perhaps account for this difference of
complexion. Their hair is generally jet black, long, and rather coarse;
they have dark black eyes, with teeth white as ivory, well set and
regular.
The women wear their hair neatly clubbed on each side of the head behind
the ears, and ornamented with double rows of the snowy higua, which are,
among the Oakinackens, called Shet-la-cane; but they keep it shed or
divided in front. The men’s hair is queued or rolled up into a knot
behind the head, and ornamented like that of the women; but {295} in
front it falls or hangs down loosely before the face, covering the
forehead and the eyes, which causes them every now and then to shake the
head, or use the hands to uncover their eyes. The young persons of both
sexes always paint their faces with red and black bars, extremely well
designed.
The men live an active life; between hunting, fishing, war, and making
canoes and domestic implements, they are always employed and
industrious. Nor are the women less busy—curing fish, drying meat,
dressing leather, collecting roots and firewood; with their domestic and
family affairs, their whole time is occupied; and, indeed, they may be
said to serve in the double capacity of wife and slave. They have in
general an engaging sweetness, are good housewives, modest in their
demeanour, affectionate and chaste, and strongly attached to their
husbands and children. Each family is ruled by the joint will or
authority of the husband and wife, but more particularly by the latter.
At their meals, they generally eat separately and in succession—man,
woman, and child.
The greatest source of evil existing among this otherwise happy people
is polygamy. All the chiefs and other great men have invariably a
plurality of wives: for he that has not one is neither chief nor great
man, according to their ideas of greatness, and is looked upon with
contempt. Many have two, three, four, or five, according to their means
and influence; but those wives do not at all times remain {296}
together,—indeed, that would be utterly impossible,—but at different
camps where their relations are; so that the husband goes from camp to
camp occasionally to visit them, keeping seldom more than one or two at
a time with himself. The greatest favourite is of course his constant
companion. Indeed, brawls, and squabbles constantly ensue when several
wives meet; and what is still more revolting, the husband of the eldest
daughter of the family is entitled by their laws to take to wife all her
sisters as they grow up, if able to maintain them.
The dress or costume is nearly the same for men and women. It is simple,
neat, and convenient, and serves unchanged for both winter and summer,
hot and cold, wet and dry, day and night. That of the young females
consists of a robe or garment of deer-skin, down to their ankles, well
dressed, and soft as chamois, with long, wide sleeves, fringed and
ornamented with beads, and the more valuable higuas with a belt around
the waist, adorned with the teeth of animals, beads, and trinkets, and
is far from being unbecoming. Leggings, or Indian stockings, trimmed
with all the showy ornaments of Indian fancy; shoes, and a loose robe of
deer-skin, thrown carelessly round the body, constitute the whole of
their dress at all seasons of the year. While new, white, and clean, it
has a pleasing appearance; nor does clothing of our manufacture ever
become an Indian woman so well as her own {297} native dress; but as
they have no change of clothing, nor any bedclothes excepting an
additional skin thrown over them, their garments soon become shabby and
unsightly. A new garment once put on remains until it is either worn to
rags, or rotten with grease and filth on their backs. Those, however,
worn by young people of a certain age, both male and female, are
frequently bestowed on their elders when half worn, and replaced by
another new suit; so that the younger folks of good circumstances are
always well dressed and clean.
The men’s garments seldom descend below the knee; and in lieu of being
ornamented like those of the women, with gaudy trinkets, they are
wrought and garnished in a very fanciful manner with porcupine quills.
During winter the men wear long detached sleeves or mittens up to their
shoulders, made of the wolf or fox skins, which are united or fastened
together by a string across the shoulders. While on their hunting
excursions, they also wear caps made of the skins of the wolf or bear,
with the ears erect; their heads being thus metamorphosed into wolves’
or bears’ heads, they are enabled to approach the game with greater
facility. But it is not the head alone that is masked or disguised: I
have seen a fellow get into a deer-skin, stripped for the purpose, with
the skin of the head and horns complete, walk off on all fours, and get
actually among a herd of deer without their taking notice of the
deception. But the wolf is the animal they {298} seem to imitate the
best. An Indian concealed in a wolf’s hide, pulls the skin of the wolf’s
head, with the face, eyes, and nose entire, over his own head, the ears
erect, and tail in its proper place, will walk, run, and frisk about on
his hands and feet, so that he can scarcely be distinguished from the
real animal itself. There is no bird nor beast of which they cannot
imitate the voice so as to decoy it within their reach. Hunting is a
favourite exercise with all Indians; and the Oakinackens are very fond
of displaying their dexterity in riding, and decoying the animals of the
chase. All classes of them paint the face, particularly the young.
Painting, and dressing, and decking the hair, is their chief glory; but
they are nowise particular about other parts of their persons.
{299} CHAPTER XIX
Marriage contracts—National custom—Exchange of presents—Nocturnal
visits—The object—Purchasing the bride—Customs on the occasion—Feuds
and quarrels—Tla-quill-augh, or Indian doctor—His office—Precarious
life—Mode of paying him—Manner of treating the sick—Customs and
ceremonies on the occasion—Hard duty—Superstitions—Knowledge of
roots and herbs—Curing wounds—Diseases, or general complaints—
Gambling—Tsill-all-a-come, or the national game—Manner of playing
it—Bets—Gambling propensities—Hot baths—Manner of using them—On what
occasions—Indian qualifications—Gymnastic exercise—Comparison—
General remarks.
We now come to the mode of courtship and the rites of marriage observed
among these people. The law of the land, or rather the established
custom of the country is, that parents betroth or promise their children
in marriage while they are still very young; and these contracts are in
most cases held valid when the minors come of age.
When a marriage alliance is thus entered into between parties on behalf
of their infant children, reciprocal presents exchanged immediately
between them serve as a seal to the marriage contract. These {300}
presents are occasionally repeated afterwards; but not by both parties,
as in the first instance. The friends of the young woman cease to give,
but are always ready to receive what the friends of the young man may
from time to time choose to bestow, until the parties come of age. What
these presents consist of is immaterial, and depends on the means of the
parties. Sometimes horses, or a horse, or a dressed skin, or a few
trinkets of but little value; but as soon as the young man attains the
age of fourteen or fifteen years, and the young woman that of eleven or
twelve, he then goes and pays his addresses to her in person; which is
done in this way:—After the people are all in bed, the young man goes to
the lodge or wigwam of his intended bride, enters it in the dark, makes
a small fire, and sits by it till he is observed by some of the inmates.
The whisper then goes round. If he be welcome, the girl’s mother gets
up, and without speaking to the young man herself, she awakens her
daughter, who sits up with him by the fire; but the matron immediately
retires to rest, leaving the young couple by themselves. During the
_tête-à-tête_, no person in the lodge ever interrupts them. The
interview is not long: the young man then departs, and the girl retires
to rest again. These visits are repeated some three or four times, or
more; and if the suitor be welcomed on every occasion, all goes on well.
He then goes in the day time, pretty sure of success, to his intended
father-in-law, accompanied by some {301} near relative, and bringing
with him the purchase-money; that is, horses, robes, skins, and
trinkets, more or less, according to the rank of the parties. On arrival
they sit down opposite to the door of the lodge. If invited in, all is
well; then the pipe of peace is smoked; one side of the lodge is put in
order; a new mat is spread out, and the young man seated thereon. The
young woman is then brought by her father and mother, each taking her by
an arm, and placed near her intended husband. They are thenceforth
considered lawfully married. This done, the pipe of peace is again
produced; and during the ceremony of smoking, the father-in-law and
young man’s relative expatiate on the worth of their respective
families; after which the parties regale, the bridegroom’s companion
returns home, and the whole business is ended.
Now in all cases of first marriage the wife must be purchased by her
husband; for there is no greater disgrace to a family than for a parent
to give his daughter away in marriage for nothing, as they call it. In
this, as in many other instances, the custom here is exactly the reverse
of that which prevails in civilized life; for in place of giving a
portion with the daughter, the parents require a portion for her; and
the nobler the family the greater must be the donation, for the quality
of the bride is on all occasions measured by the price paid for her by
the husband. I have seen, however, the property tendered more than once
refused; nor is {302} it uncommon to increase the offer once or twice
till it is accepted. We have now shown the fair and natural side of the
question, and shall next turn to take a view of the reverse side.
It sometimes happens that the plighted virgin rejects the parents’
choice. The parents themselves also change their sentiments in this
case; and the young woman marries, not the person she was betrothed to,
but another. This never fails to produce feuds and quarrels between the
families concerned; the tide of animosity runs high—so high, sometimes,
that the tribe splits into two portions, which separate from each other,
perhaps permanently.
We need not touch on second or subsequent marriages; they are made and
unmade according to circumstances, whim, or fancy, without being subject
to any other law than the will of the parties themselves.
We now come to a rather mysterious part of our subject, which I could
never rightly understand, and therefore we do not expect to guide the
reader satisfactorily through this labyrinth of superstition and
jugglery. It refers to a class of functionaries called medicine-men, or
priests, or perhaps, what would be nearer the true meaning, conjurors;
for I know not exactly which of these terms would be the most applicable
to them, as the class of men to which we allude act occasionally in all
these capacities. They are called Tla-quill-aughs, which signifies, in
their language, men of supernatural gifts, who pretend to {303} know all
things, and can kill and cure by magic whom they please. Among the
whites they go by the name of doctors or jugglers.
There are no acquirements, so far as I know, deemed essential to qualify
a person for the office of a tla-quill-augh. In all Indian tribes there
are three or four characters of this description. The tla-quill-aughs
are men generally past the meridian of life; in their habits grave and
sedate, with a certain shyness and cunning about them. Like most
Indians, they possess a good knowledge of herbs and roots, and their
virtues. All classes stand in awe of the tla-quill-aughs’ power or ill
will, and their opinions have much influence in most matters. They are
consulted in all cases of sickness. All classes avoid, as much as
possible, giving them offence, from a belief that they have the power of
throwing, as they express it, their bad medicine at them, whether far or
near, present or absent. The people believe they can converse with the
good and the bad spirits; and the tla-quill-aughs, on their part, make
it their chiefest study to impose on popular credulity, leading others
to credit what they do not believe themselves.
During our stay among these people, it sometimes happened that the
tla-quill-aughs were offended with us for our want of faith. On such
occasions, the other Indians, seeing us act with so much unconcern in
matters which they considered so hazardous to ourselves, would stare at
our ignorance, and look on us as the barbarians of old did on St. Paul
when the {304} viper fastened on his hand, expecting every moment to see
us fall down dead!
From what has now been said on the subject, the reader will no doubt at
once conclude that the tla-quill-aughs are of all men the most happy.
Let him not, however, be deceived, but look upon them as of all men the
most miserable. Every misfortune, sudden death, mishap, or unexpected
disaster that happens to any of the people, is immediately attributed to
some tla-quill-augh, and he, however innocent, pays with his life for
the calamity. On whomsoever the imagination fixes, be he far or near, he
is secretly hunted out, waylaid, and put to death; and this is generally
the fate of all of them!
When any person is dangerously ill, a tla-quill-augh is consulted, and
the price of his services fixed, without his ever seeing the patient. As
soon, therefore, as this preliminary part of the business is arranged,
the price agreed upon is forthwith sent to his abode, and he repairs to
the sick person and begins his operations. He is always paid beforehand—
that payment being according to the quality of the sick person; and it
is believed that the more is given the sooner and the better will be the
case. It is no wonder, therefore, that they should be liberal on such
occasions; but if the patient dies the fee is all returned again.
When the tla-quill-augh enters the wigwam or lodge, he views the patient
with an air of affected gravity, such as we see some of our own doctors
assume on entering the dwelling of a sick person, and {305} tells the
bystanders, with a shake of the head and a groan, that the case is a
very bad one, and that without him the patient would have surely died.
The first thing he then does is to paint himself; and while this is
going on he keeps constantly eyeing the patient, ties up his head with a
leather strap and his waist with a thong, then lays the patient on his
back, takes a piece of strong line, and girds him round the waist as
tight as possible; in which position he is not allowed to stir, or to
receive any kind of nourishment, until the whole ceremony is ended,
which lasts for upwards of three hours every morning and evening until
there is a change; and I have known them for weeks together to continue
the business without intermission, when it would be hard to tell whether
the doctor or the patient was most exhausted.
After the patient is thus placed, the tla-quill-augh, standing over him
in a stooping position, bends down, and with his whole force presses him
with his two fists in the pit of the stomach, as if intending to push
through his body; then, suddenly standing up again, he opens his fists,
and keeps blowing through his fingers, every now and then ejaculating a
short prayer in a loud and frantic manner, stamping with his feet,
blowing with his mouth, and making various gesticulations with his body
and arms, always ending the last sentence, in a tremulous voice and
quaver of the lips, in these words—“Ho! ho! ho! ho! oh! oh!” All this,
the doctor says, is necessary to drive away the evil spirit, for he must
be expelled before a cure {306} can be effected! The moment the bad
spirit is gone out of the sick person, the tla-quill-augh sucks the part
affected with his mouth to extract the bad blood through the pores of
the skin, which, to all appearance, he does effectually. How he manages
to do it I know not; but I have often watched him, and seen him throw
out whole mouthfuls of blood, and yet not the least mark would appear on
the skin. I have also examined the tla-quill-augh’s mouth, supposing he
might have cut it, but I could never discover anything of the kind. By
the colour and quantity of the blood he announces the character of the
disease. He goes through the same ceremony with various parts of the
body till he expels the evil spirit altogether; or if he fails to do so,
and the patient dies, he fixes the death on some rival in the
profession.
Having now detailed the course pursued by the honest and zealous
tla-quill-augh himself, we next come to describe the accompaniment
performed by his assistants. The moment the tla-quill-augh commences his
operations, four other persons, men and women indiscriminately, are
placed in the same wigwam with the doctor and the sick person, two and
two, face to face—that is, opposite to each other, and sitting tailor
fashion, with a small stick in each hand. Between these four persons is
then laid, flat on the ground, a piece of wood about eight feet long,
and on this they keep beating time with their sticks in a loud and noisy
manner, singing all the while; but the moment the tla-quill-augh comes
to the words {307} “Ho, ho, ho!” the assistants who keep drumming on the
piece of wood stop singing, and with their sticks beat one, two, three,
for three successive times, by way of an _amen_ to the doctor’s
invocations. Then silence ensues for about two minutes, when the whole
commences anew, and so on to the end of the ceremony, which, as I have
already said, continues every morning and evening about three hours.
The noise made by drumming on the stick, in conjunction with the
tla-quill-augh’s hallooing, is intended to frighten away the evil
spirit, and prepare the patient for medicine; so that, between the
doctor’s bawling and stamping, and the drummer’s beating and singing,
the noise may be heard a quarter of a mile round. With all this
absurdity, many extraordinary cures are performed by these people. They
have a profound knowledge of all simples, and if the complaint be
manifest, as in cases of cuts and wounds, or the like, their skill is
really astonishing. I once saw an Indian who had been nearly devoured by
a grizzly bear, and had his skull split open in several places, and
several pieces of the bone taken out just above the brain, and measuring
three-fourths of an inch in length, cured so effectually by one of these
jugglers, that in less than two months after he was riding on his horse
again at the chase. I have also seen them cut open the belly with a
knife, extract a large quantity of fat from the inside, sew up the part
again, and the patient soon after perfectly recovered. The bite of the
rattlesnake {308} they cure effectually; and as to vomits, purges,
decoctions, and the knowledge of phlebotomy, none can be more expert and
successful than the tla-quill-aughs; and I have witnessed two or three
cases, which baffled the skill of a regular surgeon, cured by them.
The diseases most frequent among these people, are indigestion, fluxes,
asthmas, and consumptions. Instances of longevity are here and there to
be found among them, but not very often.
From the doctor we now turn to the gambler. Play or gambling is a
favourite pastime among all classes of the Oakinackens. The principal
game is called tsill-all-a-come, differing but little from the
chall-chall played by the Chinooks or Indians along the sea-coast. This
game is played with two small, oblong, polished bones, each two inches
long, and half an inch in diameter, with twenty small sticks of the same
diameter as the bones, but about nine inches long.
The game does not set any limits to the number of players at a time,
provided both sides be equal. Two, four, or six, as may be agreed upon,
play this game; but, in all large bets, the last number is generally
adopted. When all is ready, and the property at stake laid down on the
spot, the players place themselves in the following manner: the parties
kneel down, three on one side, and three on the other, face to face, and
about three feet apart; and in this position they remain during the
game. A {309} piece of wood is then placed on the ground between them:
this done, each player is furnished with a small drum-stick, about the
size of a rule, in his right hand, which stick is used for beating time
on the wood, in order to rivet attention on the game. The drumming is
always accompanied with a song. The players, one and all, muffle their
wrists, fists, and fingers with bits of fur or trapping, in order the
better to elude and deceive their opponents. Each party then takes one
of the two small polished bones, and ten of the small sticks, the use of
which will hereafter be more fully explained. In all cases the arms and
body are perfectly naked, the face painted, the hair clubbed up, and the
head girt round with a strap of leather. The party is now ready to begin
the game, all anxious and on the alert: three of the players on one side
strike up a song, to which all keep chorus, and this announces the
commencement. The moment the singing and drumming begin on one side, the
greatest adept on the other side instantly takes the little polished
bone, conceals it in one of his fists, then throws it into the other,
and back again, and so on from one fist to the other, nimbly crossing
and recrossing his arms, and every instant changing the position of his
fists. The quickness of the motions and the muffling of the fists make
it almost impossible for his opponents to guess which hand holds the
bone, and this is the main point. While the player is manœuvring in this
manner, his three opponents eagerly watch his {310} motions with an
eagle’s eye, to try and discover the fist that contains the bone; and,
the moment one of them thinks he has discovered where the bone is, he
points to it with the quickness of lightning: the player at the same
time, with equal rapidity, extends his arm and opens his fist in the
presence of all; if it be empty, the player draws back his arm and
continues, while the guesser throws the player one of the little sticks,
which counts one. But if the guesser hits upon the fist that contains
the bone, the player throws a stick to him and ceases playing, his
opponent now going through the same operation: every miss costs a stick
on either side. It is not the best of three, but three times running:
all the sticks must be on one side to finish the game. I have seen them
for a whole week at one game, and then not conclude, and I have known
the game decided in six hours.
It sometimes happens, however, that after some days and nights are spent
in the same game, neither party gains: in that case, the rules of the
game provide that the number of players be either increased or
diminished; or, if all the parties be agreed, the game is relinquished,
each party taking up what it put down: but so intent are they on this
favourite mode of passing their time, that it seldom happens that they
separate before the game is finished; and while it is in progress every
other consideration is sacrificed to it; and some there are who devote
all their time and means solely to gambling; and when {311} all is lost,
which is often the case, the loser seldom gives way to grief. They are a
happy people, never repining at what cannot be remedied. Various other
games and amusements occupy their time: among which, the females have
several that are innocent and amusing; but singing and dancing are their
delight, and in these they often indulge to excess.
Next we come to the description of their hot baths, or rather fiery
trial. To construct one of these baths a good deal of trouble and labour
is required. A hole, fifteen feet in diameter, and about four feet deep,
is dug in some convenient place for wood and water. The hole is then
covered over with a thick coat of earth, as close as possible, leaving
only a small aperture or opening in one side, barely sufficient to admit
a single person to creep in and out on all fours. This done, a pile of
wood, with a considerable number of stones laid thereon, is set on fire
in the centre; and when the wood is consumed, and the stones red hot,
water is thrown over them, causing a dense vapour and intense heat; yet
in the midst of this suffocating cloud, where one would suppose a
salamander itself could hardly live, the Indians enter stark naked, and
no sooner in than the aperture or hole is closed upon them. Here they
keep singing and recounting their war adventures, and invoking the good
spirit to aid them again, rolling and groaning all the time in this
infernal cell for nearly an hour; when all at once they bound out one by
one, like so many {312} subterranean spectres issuing from the infernal
regions. Besmeared with mud, and pouring down with sweat, they dash into
the cold water, and there plunge and swim about for at least a quarter
of an hour, when they return again to their cell, going through this
fiery trial twice—morning and evening—on all great occasions. On all
occasions of peace or war; of success in their enterprises, and good
luck in hunting, the bath is resorted to. In short, great virtues are
supposed to arise from the regular observance of this general custom of
purification.
In the wide field of gymnastic exercise, few Indians—I might say none—
have been found to cope with civilized man. In all trials of walking, of
running, of fatigue, feats of agility, and famine, even in the Indian’s
own country, he has to yield the palm of victory to the white man. In
the trials of the hot bath alone the savage excels.
The ceremony of the bath is not peculiar to the Oakinackens: it is
practised by all the aboriginal tribes on the American continent.
{313} CHAPTER XX
Social habits—Winter habitations—Economy of the winter—Summer
employments—Collecting of food—Fish barriers—Salmon—Division of
labour—Roots and berries—Scenes at the fish camp—Mode of catching
the deer—Preparation of food—Furnaces or ovens—Implements of
warfare—Spampt, how made—Pine moss—Bread, how prepared—Great
war-dance—Manner of fighting—Treaties of peace—Scalps—Slaves—Funeral
ceremonies—Mode of interment—Graves—Superstitions—Emblems—Customs—
Mourning—Punishments—Sedate habits and docile dispositions.
Their winter habitations are constructed chiefly of mats and poles,
covered over with grass and earth; and are made very commodious,
comfortable, and roomy. The inside being dug about a foot or two below
the surface of the ground, a precaution which adds much to their warmth.
They are invariably open at the ridge pole all along, and the reason is
obvious; for without any chimney, the smoke by this means has a free
vent upwards. These lodgings resemble in appearance the roof of a common
dwelling-house removed from the walls and placed on the ground; the
fires are made in the centre, directly under the ridge pole, and about
six or eight feet apart, and are in proportion to the number of {314}
families who live under the same roof; each family having generally one
fire. The doors are but few, and situate to suit convenience; in the
front, in the back, or the gable ends, and are merely oblong holes, over
which mats are suspended by means of a wooden hinge, which mat or door
must be lifted up and down every time a person goes in or out.
Although these dwellings have neither partition nor division in any of
them, yet the property of each individual, the privacy of each family,
and the place each occupies, are so well secured and ascertained as to
afford to a rude people all the advantages, and even conveniences of a
more complicated building. These dwellings are generally long and
narrow, and contain each from one to five or six families, whose winter
supplies of provisions are considered as one common stock, and as such
are served out in winter by each family in turn, until the whole is
consumed.
We must now relate the manner in which these people pass the summer
season, and provide food for the winter. As soon as the snow begins to
disappear in the spring, the winter camps break up, and the whole tribe
disperse here and there into small parties or families; and in this
unsettled manner they wander about till the middle of June, when they
all assemble again in large bands on the banks of the different rivers,
for the purpose of fishing during the summer season. Here, then, their
fish barriers are constructed, by the united labour of the whole village
or camp assembled in one place. The salmon being then in the utmost
abundance, no sooner are the barriers finished than one {315} or more of
the principal men are appointed, by general consent, to superintend
each. The person or persons thus chosen divide the fish every morning,
and settle all matters respecting the barrier and fish for the current
year. Their authority is law in all those matters till the end of the
fishing season, which is generally about the beginning of October.
During the season the camp is divided into four parties, for the various
purposes of daily life, and of laying in a stock of food for the
approaching winter. The men are divided into two parties; one for
hunting, and the other for fishing: and of the women also, one party
cure the fish, another collect roots and berries. All these different
productions are dried and seasoned in the sun, and require much
attention and labour. The fish when properly cured is packed up into
large bundles or bales; the roots and berries into bags made of rushes.
The stock for the winter, thus daily and weekly produced, is then,
during the nights, conveyed in secret, and put in _caches_; that is,
hidden under ground among the rocks; each family having its share apart,
secure from wild beasts and the eye of thieves. During the continuance
of the fish season, the Indian camp is all life. Gambling, dancing,
horse-racing, and frolicking, in all its varied forms, are continued
without intermission; and few there are, even the most dull and
phlegmatic, who do not feel, after enjoying so much hilarity, a deep
regret on leaving the piscatory camp on these occasions.
As soon as the fish season is over, the Indians again all withdraw into
the interior or mountains, as in the {316} spring, and divide into
little bands for the purpose of hunting the various animals of the
chace. In their mode of ensnaring the deer and other animals, they are
generally very successful. Exclusive of hunting these animals with their
guns, bows, and arrows, and running them down with their horses, which
latter practice is a favourite amusement, they frequently select a
valley or favourable spot of ground between two mountains, having a
narrow outlet or pass at one end; and the better to decoy the unwary
game into it, bushes are planted on each side of the pass, contracting,
as it were, the passage as it advances into the form of a funnel, until,
at the outlet, it becomes quite narrow. Here the animals, being pressed
forward by their pursuers, fall an easy prey to those who in ambush
await their arrival, and by whom they are generally all killed while
struggling to extricate themselves from the snare.
The Indians, after passing a month or six weeks in this roving state,
congregate again into large bands for the purpose of passing the winter
on the banks of small rivers, where wood is convenient and plentiful.
During this season they remain in their habitations, constructed as
already described; nor do they break up their winter camps till about
the 1st of February. During this cold and tedious period, they chiefly
subsist on the stock laid in during the summer season, and in severe
winters, when little can be obtained from the chace, they are reduced to
great extremes before the snow disappears, or the spring invites them to
rove about again.
Their food is boiled in watape kettles, a mode {317} common to all the
aborigines throughout the continent. The process is simple, and similar
to that practised by the Chinooks and other tribes along the Pacific.
The dish or kettle being placed on the ground, and nearly filled with
water, the meat, fish, or other viand, is cut or torn into small pieces,
and after being put into the kettle, some heated stones, by the help of
wooden tongs, are immediately thrown in also, which is no sooner done
than the water in the dish is in a state of ebullition. After a few
minutes’ boiling the stones are taken out and instantly replaced by
others, also red hot, which second set generally suffices to complete
the process. The contents are then served up, and each individual
receives his portion on a piece of bark or mat. The broth, in which the
food is boiled, is likewise carefully dealt round with a wooden ladle
into bark or wooden dishes, and is, with all the ashes and dirt incident
to the process, considered as the most delicious part of the repast.
Their culinary vessels are seldom washed or cleaned. The dog’s tongue is
the only dish-cloth known.
Roots and vegetables of every description are cooked during the summer
by means of furnaces in the open air; they are then baked on stones,
formed into small cakes, and dried in the sun, after which the whole is
carefully laid by for winter use. And while speaking of a furnace and
baking, we ought not to omit stating how they bake their bread, and what
kind of bread they generally make use of.
On the pines of this country there is a dark brown moss which collects
or grows about the branches. {318} This moss is carefully gathered every
autumn, when it has the appearance of dirty coarse wool. It is soaked in
water, pressed hard together, and then cooked in an oven or furnace,
from which it comes forth in large sheets like slate, but supple and
pliable, resembling pieces of tarpauling, black as ink, and tasteless;
and when cut with a knife it has a spotted or marbled appearance, owing
to the number of small sprigs of wood, bark, or other extraneous
substances, unavoidably collected with the moss in taking it from the
trees. This cake when dried in the sun becomes as hard as flint, and
must always be soaked in water before use. It is generally eaten with
the raw fat of animals, as we use bread and butter. It is viscous and
clammy in the mouth, with but little taste. Thus prepared it will keep
for years; is much liked by the natives, and sometimes eaten by the
whites. It is called squill-ape.
We now come to their warlike weapons and manner of fighting. Generally
speaking, they are rather a trafficking commercial people than a nation
of warriors; yet, when called to war, they are resolute and brave.
Their implements of warfare are guns, bows, and arrows (in the use of
which they are very expert), shields, knives, and lances, and a
bludgeon, for close combat, called spampt. This deadly weapon is made in
the following manner:—A piece of hard wood, about nine inches long, and
half an inch in diameter, of a cylindrical form, resembling a short
rule, is tightly covered over with a piece of raw hide, which being
large at one end forms a bag, in which is {319} enclosed a round stone
of the size of a goose-egg. This has the appearance of a ball at the end
of the staff: the space between them about an inch, serving as a joint;
the other end is tied round the wrist of the right hand with a thong. An
Oakinacken thus accoutred, and mounted on his fleetest steed, is ready
for action.
The hot bath, council, and ceremony of smoking the great pipe before
war, is always religiously observed. Their laws, however, admit of no
compulsion, nor is the chief’s authority implicitly obeyed on these
occasions; consequently, every one judges for himself, and either goes
or stays as he thinks proper. With a view, however, to obviate this
defect in their system, they have instituted the dance, which answers
every purpose of a recruiting service. As soon, therefore, as war is
resolved upon, a large ring or circle is marked out, into which the war
chief enters; the belligerent declaration is published in a loud voice,
and the great war-dance commenced, which is carried on with much spirit
and shouting; every man, therefore, who enters within this ring, and
joins in the dance, thereby pledges himself, and is, according to the
laws of the tribe, in honour bound to assist in carrying on the war, or
in other words, is a soldier, and bound to obey the great war chief.
Stratagem and ambuscade, so peculiar to all savages, is always resorted
to by these people, who dislike an open attack; and for the want of
proper discipline and subordination, never stand face to face in the
fight if they can avoid it. If they fail to surprise their enemy in the
darkness of night, or {320} the dawn of morning, which is their
favourite mode of attack, they skirmish at a distance, occasionally
dashing at full speed near enough to have a flying shot at each other,
without any kind of order, shouting and yelling all the time in the most
wild and frantic manner, capering and cowering on their horses to evade
their adversaries fire. If one on either side happens to fall, a rush is
made for the scalp, which brings the foes into close contact. The firing
with guns then ceases, and the quick shooting of arrows commences; but
the arrows soon cease also, and the spear comes into play; but this in
turn is soon laid aside, and gives place to the bloody knife and deadly
spampt. These are the last weapons used, except, perhaps, a few random
shots at retiring. This last stage of the encounter or conflict is often
severely contested, but does not last long. The moment a chief or
principal man falls, fighting gives place to mourning; they get
discouraged, and instantly fly without disgrace, and the battle is
ended.
The number slain on these occasions is comparatively few; and when the
conquerors bear off in barbarous triumph a dozen scalps or so, it is
thought a great victory. Their treaties of peace, though made with the
utmost solemnity, are but the words of children, no sooner uttered than
forgotten. With all this barbarity, however, they are kind and indulgent
to their slaves. War not being their trade, there are but few slaves
among them, and these few are adopted as children, and treated in all
respects as members of the family.
Next in order are their funeral ceremonies, mourning, {321} and manner
of interment. When a chief, or other principal personage, is on his
deathbed, he is surrounded by his relatives, who observe a strict
silence and calm indifference while the zealous tla-quill-laugh goes
through the solemnities of his office; but the moment the patient dies,
the house or lodge is abandoned, and loud clamorous mourning commences:
the whole camp, during the first burst of lamentation, join in the
tumultous uproar. This lasts for some hours without intermission, and
then gives way to a dead silence; during which the body, wrapped in a
new garment, is removed to the open air, and the house or lodge is razed
to the ground. Every now and then the mourning bursts forth anew. The
moment one begins, the whole instantly join; the cry being reinforced by
the howling of dogs and screaming of children. A few hours after death
the body is interred. For this purpose, a round hole is dug in some
convenient spot, and the body is placed in a sitting posture, but
inclining a little backwards, with the knees raised up nearly to the
breast. All the most valuable trinkets and trophies of war possessed by
the deceased are laid on his breast, supported by his knees, and
interred along with the body. If any of these articles be withheld from
the grave, the spirit of the deceased, according to the popular belief,
can never be at rest; consequently the custom is religiously observed.
After the grave is filled up with earth and stones, a small pile of wood
is placed over it, and several articles are suspended from the pile,
indicating the quality of the deceased. If he be a warrior, the bow and
scalp mark his grave; if a {322} hunter, an animal is portrayed thereon;
the spear and salmon in like manner point out the fisherman’s place of
rest. Immediately after the interment, all the valuable property, such
as horses, guns, bows, and other things not put into the grave, are
destroyed and scattered around it as a sacrifice. The near relations
then cut their hair short, scarify their flesh, besmear their faces and
bodies, clothe themselves in old tattered garments, and abandon
themselves to excessive mourning for many months together; strictly
taking care not to mention the name of the deceased.
If a husband dies, the widow, according to custom, must remain two years
single; during which time she never paints, combs her hair, nor puts on
new clothing. After some months, their loud lamentation is confined to
the morning and evening; but in their grief, during the first months,
they howl incessantly and desperately, as if excess of grief were to be
measured by excess of noise. Yet no sooner are these wild fits over than
they seem all of a sudden to forget their anguish, and at once resume a
tranquil, placid, and cheerful countenance.
They have no place appropriated for the reception of the dead; but their
graves are generally on some eminence, rocky ground, or stony place, and
the spot is always held sacred.
Among these people there are no regular punishments instituted for
crimes or offences of any kind; yet all transgressions are cognizable
and punished by their laws, so as to ensure security to life and
property. Theft, in particular, is held in the utmost abhorrence, so
that it rarely occurs among them. {323} The property of each individual,
even of the slave, is held sacred.
They perfectly understand the nature of barter and traffic, and may be
called, in their way, a commercial and trading people; but, like all
Indians, they cannot resist the temptation of European articles, and
will give everything they possess for the toys and trifles of the
whites. They are a sedate and docile people, and very susceptible of
improvement, and could, with comparatively little trouble, I am
confident, be brought round to a state of civilization. Their
superstitions seem to be the only barrier between them and the
attainment of a more refined state.
{324} CHAPTER XXI
Calculation of time—Singular manner of naming children—Peculiar modes
of address—Anecdote of an Indian chief—Indian forbearance—Conduct of
the whites in Indian countries—Comparison of crime between Indians
and whites—Manner of swaddling infants—Hardships during infancy—
Savage customs—Indian constitution—Chief cause of scanty population—
A day’s journey—Calculation of distance—Rough roads—Indian ideas—
Social habits—Some remarks on the system adopted for converting
Indians to the Christian faith.
In calculating time the Oakinackens invariably use their fingers, and go
by tens. A common mode of counting with them is by snows or winters. Ask
an Indian his age, he immediately casts his eyes on his hands;
calculates his age by his fingers, and answers by holding so many of
them up to view, each finger standing for ten years. Some of the most
intelligent among them will reckon to a thousand tolerably correct; but
by far the greater part can scarcely count twenty.
Contrary to the customs in civilized life, the children are never weaned
until they give up the breast of their own accord, or another child is
born to supplant the former; nor is the child ever hand-fed {325} while
at the breast, but lives solely on its mother’s milk till old enough to
feed itself. Yet the infant is generally robust and healthy; but the
mother soon becomes an old woman. Here a singularity in their manners
presents itself; for the child never receives a name till it has done
sucking its mother’s breast, and then it is named according to the
disposition it evinced up till that time. If a male child, fractious and
ill-humoured, it is named to please the ear, after some carnivorous bird
or beast, such as the bear, the wolf or the vulture; if, on the
contrary, it be mild and quiet, it will be named after the deer, the
rabbit, or the pheasant, so that the name generally indicates the
temper; and while we are speaking of names, it may be proper to follow
that subject a little farther, because it is one that generally forms a
striking characteristic of Indian manners.
Indians of all classes change their names periodically, taking new ones
according to fancy or caprice; and it is a peculiar habit, even a
national custom, for the male and female children to address their
parents in a manner peculiar to their sex, if I may so express myself,
and to name their brothers and sisters according to their respective
ages, as shall presently appear. To explain this rather knotty point, we
shall suppose a family to consist of six children, three boys and three
girls, besides the parents; and in order to make the thing as
intelligible as possible, we shall again suppose that one of the boys—
not the eldest, nor yet the youngest, but the middle one—is to address
each of the {326} other members of the family. The boy then says,
En-leo, my father; Es-koy my mother; En-ketch-eck, my elder brother;
E-shentsa my younger brother; El-kick-cha, my elder sister;
El-shets-spo, my younger sister; E-she-she, my uncle; and Es-wa-wis-saw,
my aunt. We shall now take the female in the same degree; that is, the
middle one, who must say, En-mistem, my father; En-toume, my mother;
El-keck-cha, my elder sister; El-shets-ops, my younger sister;
El-kack-itsa, my elder brother; El-she-shentsa, my younger brother;
Es-melt, my uncle; and Es-ta-ta-qua, my aunt.
Age and change of circumstance have great influence in causing change of
names at different periods of life; but no change ever takes place in
the above family mode of expression. During my first years among them,
the chief went by the name of Its-kay-kay-etsa, or painted garment.
After the death of the fox his father, he changed his name to
Quill-quill-is-tshen-ach-can, or public speaker; and of late he has
changed it again to that of Whist-as-ma-whey-kin, or the white bear, a
name only assumed by chiefs or other great men; but in general these
changes may be classed under three heads; one for youth, one for middle
age, and one for old age.
On our travels one day, we overtook a party of Indians, when one of my
men accosted the chief, calling him by name. The chief looked
steadfastly at him, but made no reply. Being called again by name, he
turned half round, and with a significant air, said, “You white people
say you know all things; do you not then know that I have changed {327}
my name?” “No,” said the man; “how could I know? for you change your
names as often as the moon changes; but the whites, like the sun, never
change.” “And who made the moon?” said the Indian. “God, to be sure,”
rejoined the man. “And who made the sun?” continued the chief. “The same
who made the moon,” was the reply. “Then if God made us after the moon
subject to change, and you after the sun unchangeable, why do you
reproach us? In reproaching us, you reproach the master of life.”
If you offend or even assault an Indian, he seldom resents at the
moment, or shows any signs of violence or passion; but, on the contrary,
he remains sullen, mute, and thoughtful. This forbearance, however,
forebodes no good; for he broods over the insult or injury, and
meditates revenge. Years may elapse, but the injury is still fresh in
the savage breast; and there is but one way left for you to ward off the
meditated blow, and regain his friendship, and that is, by a
peace-offering or present; for here property pays for all offences.
If one Indian kills another, the murderer saves his own life by making a
suitable present to the nearest relative of the deceased; and they draw
no line of distinction between accidental or justifiable homicide and
wilful murder: death caused in any way by another is looked upon in the
same criminal light.
If a native flies into a passion with a white man, which is seldom the
case, his passion or anger ought to be allowed to evaporate; and if you
can muster {328} patience enough to keep your temper till his rage is
past, you can then do with him just what you please; for nothing subdues
and reforms a savage more than patience and silence on your part while
he is giving way to anger. Forbearance and even-handed justice are far
more successful instruments in governing Indians than powder and ball.
The confirmation of this statement will be found in the spectacle of the
millions of aborigines that inhabit this quarter of the globe alone, and
the comparatively few white men, not perhaps one to a thousand, who live
among them. Yet the white man does not always observe the golden rule of
forbearance and even-handed justice, but often arbitrarily arrogates the
right of domineering over the natives; and yet these, in almost all
cases, yield without a murmur. And to our shame be it said, that reason
and right, humanity and forbearance, are as often to be found among the
savages themselves as among the whites, who live by sufferance among
them. The Indian in his natural state is happy, with his trader he is
happy; but the moment he begins to walk in the path of the white man his
happiness is at an end. Like a wild animal in a cage, his lustre is
gone.
However strongly we may abhor heathenism, and deprecate the savage
character in its natural state, as compared to civilized humanity, yet
we ought not, in our zeal for the one or abhorrence of the other, to
suppress the truth; and the truth, therefore, compels us to admit that
there are many traits of virtue to be met with in the Indian character.
They are brave, generous, and often charitable; and to their {329}
credit be it said, that there is less crime in an Indian camp of five
hundred souls than there is in a civilized village of but half that
number. Let the lawyer or moralist point out the cause.
Custom here constitutes law, not only in reference to the great affairs
of the nation or tribe, but in trivial things also. A mother is not
allowed to prepare swaddling-clothes for an unborn infant; and, indeed,
but little preparation is required, for the whole paraphernalia consists
of but four articles—a rude piece of board, which serves for a cradle; a
bit of skin, which serves to wrap the new-born babe in; some moss to lie
on; and a string to lash the whole together. Thus secured, the bantling
is carried about on its mother’s back, or allowed to sprawl on the
ground, in all weathers and all seasons.
Tacitus found fault with the Roman ladies of his day for giving their
children to Grecian women to nurse, and thus depriving the infant of
maternal tenderness. What would the historian have thought had he seen
an infant of the savage race, as practised in these parts, tied naked on
a hard board, and allowed to tumble and roll about as it best could? and
yet this very race, or portion of the human family, is as perfect in
form, as healthy and vigorous, as any people on the face of the earth.
In traveling, the distance of places is always calculated according to
time. If on horseback, a day’s ride is estimated at about seventy of our
miles; if on foot, at half that distance. This mode of calculating
distances is, however, very erroneous, and not to be depended upon by
the whites, as the natives seldom {330} take into consideration either
the good or bad state of the roads. But interruptions which are grievous
obstacles to us are nothing in their way; for where a rabbit can pass,
an Indian horse will pass, and where a horse can pass, the savage, who
sticks on his back like a crab, passes over hill and dale, rock and
ravine, at full speed; so that good roads or bad roads, rugged or
smooth, all is alike to him.
Nor is the fair sex less dexterous in managing the horse; a woman with
one child on her back and another in her arms will course the fleetest
steed over the most rugged and perilous country. In conversation they
seem to possess but few ideas, and their answer is often a gesture
expressive of approbation or dislike; at other times, simply yes or no;
and yet, in their national harangues, they often display great energy of
mind, inspire confidence, and frequently give a strong impulse to public
opinion.
While on their journeys, and indeed at all times, the men willingly aid
in alleviating the hardships of the women, and are indulgent husbands.
On all occasions they evince a steady and temperate disposition, and
every action of their lives is more or less marked by intelligence and
moderation.
Having now performed, however imperfectly, the task we had undertaken,
and brought to a close our description of the Oakinacken nation, we
shall proceed to make a few remarks on the moral and spiritual condition
of these people, as a portion of the great family of mankind, as well as
on the system generally pursued by missionaries in converting Indians to
Christianity.
{331} The Oakinackens are a people that might soon, and with but very
little trouble, be induced to throw off their savage habits altogether,
as they are reforming fast, and exhibit on most occasions a strong
desire and capacity for receiving moral and religious instruction. The
last time I visited them was in 1825, and it was encouraging to witness
their continued improvement.[97]
When we contemplate the wide field open before us for missionary
labours, even between the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific, and the large
sums yearly spent in various parts of the world for the purposes of
instructing and converting the heathen, shall we not then hope and
expect that at some future day those blessings may be extended to the
Far West? Even a tithe of what is laid out in our country in England
would, if rightly applied, be an inestimable blessing to these people.
But the result would entirely depend on the manner in which the work of
conversion was undertaken; and, with this impression on our minds, it
seems to us expedient to make a few observations on the system generally
followed in instructing and evangelizing the heathen in other parts of
the world.
Where the rays of evangelical light beam forth, that light alone, if
practically improved, will not only discover the errors of the past, but
point out a remedy for the future. But the great evil is, hesitation
takes the place of determination, and no person wishes to begin the work
of reforming any great system which has been long in operation, and more
particularly so if it be considered by its promoters {332} as working
well; but in a case such as the present, in which the whole world is
more or less concerned, others as well as the actual promoters ought to
have a voice, and every voice inculcating improvement ought to be
respected: yet I am not vain enough to suppose that any opinion or
representation of mine, however correct, will either reform the old or
perfect the new system, because such things are not the work of a day
nor of an individual; but if the suggestions now presented draw the
attention of abler writers to the subject, I shall be satisfied.
The pious and charitable world contribute with a liberal hand; the
missionary is sent out to the wilderness to instruct and convert the
heathen: so far all is well. The missionary reaches his destination,
announces the gospel tidings, and commences his official duties; the
young and the old are catechised, baptism is administered, and the
sacrament of the Lord’s Supper follows—and all these different glimpses
of evangelical light succeed each other in such rapid succession as to
stamp the whole proceeding with the character of a miracle. The calm and
reflecting observer is confounded, and the pious Christian is struck
with astonishment at the hurried and precipitate manner in which the
wild and untutored savage is thus washed from all his sins, and received
into the bosom of the Christian church. In all this, however, there is
nothing real; on the contrary, it is utterly impossible for the
missionary, or any other man alive, to cultivate the soil, sow the seeds
of gospel vegetation, and bring forth the matured fruits of regeneration
in so short a time. {333} The missionary, in all this, no doubt follows
his instructions.
But this is not all: the missionary’s journal goes home, more labourers
are required for the vineyard, periodicals circulate the marvellous
success, and all the world, except those on the spot, believe the
report. Yet the picture is delusive: the savage is still a savage, and
gross idolatry and barbarism have not yielded inwardly a hair’s breadth
to the influence of civilization, far less is he made sensible of the
obligations imposed upon him by his new creed. It is but a treacherous
calm before a storm: the tree is known by its fruit.
These reports are no sooner laid before the public, than a pious
interest is again excited, and the liberal hand of charity is again
cheerfully held out to aid in civilizing mankind. Other missionaries are
sent forth, who, to prove their own zeal and success, heighten if
possible the colouring of the former picture, by the addition of still
more marvellous reports; and in this manner they go on, as it were, at
full gallop, according to the present system, without taking time to
dispel that thick and heavy cloud of ignorance and barbarism so
necessary to be removed from the savage mind before it is prepared to
receive spiritual instruction, or appreciate the benefits of
Christianity. The result is scarcely a form of godliness, the time
allowed being insufficient for perfecting the work, or doing it as it
ought to be done; and this very want of time is chiefly the rock on
which the missionary bark universally founders.
Before concluding this part of our subject, we {334} might advert to
another evil connected with the present system, and perhaps the worst of
all evils, inasmuch as no effectual remedy can well be applied to it—
that is, the interference of sects with one another; for no sooner does
a missionary plant the standard of the Gospel in any foreign land, but
others of different persuasions follow: and it is no uncommon thing to
see, in many parts of the heathen world, Papists and Protestants, with
all the different branches of the two great sects, like rivals in trade,
huddled together, working confusion; not only distracting and corrupting
their converts, but destroying in their obstinacy the fruits of each
other’s labour—forgetting that they are all God’s husbandmen, labouring
in the same vineyard, and for the same master.
Next to the British empire, few countries on the globe have pursued the
present system with more success than the Americans have done; yet the
Americans themselves have found from long experience, as they now
declare, that the system is defective, that the results produced nowise
correspond to the means employed: and the same observation may be
applied to every other quarter of the earth.
Let us now consider the possibility of reforming this defective system.
Considering the moral degradation of the heathen world, it behoves those
who take an interest in changing the condition of the natural man, to
apply the means best adapted for that purpose, and to recognise and
avail themselves of every light that may in a practical way hold out a
prospect of success; and if they do so, they will neither slight nor
condemn, without an impartial and {335} patient investigation, any
suggestions that may be offered with the view of forwarding the great
and benevolent work of salvation.
In the first place, then, all men generally know, and history bears
testimony to the fact, that Indians, whether of the open plains or of
the deserts, universally rove about from place to place, like beasts of
prey, without any settled or permanent home. To counteract this habit
ought to be the first step taken in order to bring about a healthy state
of civilization, without which the missionary labours in vain: but this
is not the work of an hour, nor of a day, but of years—I should have
said generations; and time proportionate to the work must be allowed,
moral restraints must gradually be imposed, and the savage, in place of
his former precarious mode of living, must be taught not only to feel
the wants, but to appreciate the blessings resulting from settled habits
and practical industry; he must be taught to cultivate the ground, and
be convinced from experience that his living and comforts are more
certain from the soil than from the chace, before he can be brought a
step farther: but according to the present system, in place of locating
the Indians, as a preliminary step, and accustoming them to habits of
industry and social order, the zealous missionary at once commences his
course of religious instruction, without any step of the kind; and,
while the savages have anything to eat, all goes on well, but the moment
a new supply of food is required, that moment they disperse in all
directions, according to their usual habits, leaving the missionary
alone, and perhaps {336} months may elapse before they again reassemble
on praying ground, losing to-day what they had gained yesterday; and
this is generally the course pursued—a course productive of social evil
and moral deterioration.
What are the qualifications of the men generally sent out for the
purpose of converting the heathen? These men have seldom any other
recommendation than a knowledge of books; they are ignorant of the
language, habits, and feelings of the people they have gone to convert,
and have little experience in human nature: this alone is of itself
sufficient to protract and retard, if not to frustrate altogether, the
working of the system satisfactorily. In every quarter of the globe
there are not wanting, if sought after, pious and philanthropic men,
possessing the advantages of long and close personal intercourse with
the natives of almost all countries. These are the men to be selected
and sent out as pioneers among the heathen—men who might, from their
local experience, at once infuse the elements of much good by their
presence and example; and if such men cannot always be found, persons
possessing at least a general knowledge of mankind, as well as of books,
can. The work requires practical as well as pious men to set things
a-going during the first probationary time; for I wish it to be
distinctly understood that religious instruction should not be mixed up
with the primary part of the plan at all; but may be introduced at any
subsequent period, according to circumstances, as soon, but no sooner,
than the degrading influence of the savage character begins to yield to
the more genial and rational habits of civilized life. For one of the
greatest evils in the {337} present system is, that men generally begin
where they ought to end. They commence with religion before the heart is
prepared to receive it. A thing easily got is thought but little of:
religion must therefore be kept for some time, as it were, at a distance
from them; they must be taught to feel the want of it; they must ask for
it; and they must be prepared to receive it with all thanksgiving.
The preparatory part of the plan, as regards time, ought, as I have
already stated, to be regulated according to circumstances; but when a
new field is opened for missionary labours, I cannot convince myself
that a shorter period than ten years’ location of the tribe or nation,
under civilized guidance, would be sufficient to remove the deep-rooted
apathy of the savage, and prepare his mind for religious instruction; or
perhaps it would be still nearer the mark to adopt the more general
opinion on this point, and that is, that an age is not too long for
assembling, locating, training, and instructing the savage in the habits
of civilization, industry, and economy, before introducing even public
schools among them; another age under scholastic discipline might be
required to prepare them for the next and most important step; and in
the third generation only might religion, as practised in civilized
life, be thoroughly introduced with effect among them. This would be
laying the basis of a solid and permanent plan.
In reference to the missionary himself, whose pious work is the
conversion of souls, the apostle reminds us, “How beautiful are the feet
of them that preach the gospel of peace;” and while the {338} missionary
follows, in all its purity, the work of faith and labour of love, all
men are in charity bound to contribute to his assistance, and aid in
bringing about, by the application of appointed means, the great work of
salvation; but then, to encourage all men to do so, the missionary, like
the apostles of old, who in simplicity and godly sincerity told their
Lord and master “what they had done, and what they had taught,” ought to
tell his masters, with the same simplicity and uprightness, what he has
done, and what he has taught, without exaggeration or any false
colouring. This course would indeed inspire confidence, and give such a
direction and impetus to popular opinion as would lead all to co-operate
for the good of mankind.
But the missionary at home and the missionary abroad are two distinct
characters; the latter, from his position and the influence he acquires
over the general conduct, as well as consciences, of the simple and
ignorant people with whom he lives, and who on every occasion look up to
him for advice in temporal as well as for instruction in spiritual
matters, of course becomes a great man, not only in their estimation,
but in his own also, till at last the force of habit gains an ascendancy
over him, and often leads him astray from the path of evangelical duty.
He is no longer the humble and zealous disciple he was when he left
home, but considers himself the chief man in civil as well as in
religious matters.
But the paramount evil which frustrates all the labours of the
missionary is that arising from sects {339} of different persuasions
interfering with one another, an evil which tends rather to destroy than
promote religious feelings among savages, and which nothing less than
the potent arm of Government can prevent; for it is no uncommon thing in
the wilderness to see the pious and persevering evangelist, after
undergoing every hardship to open a new field for his labours among the
heathen, followed after by some weak zealot of another sect, who had not
energy or courage of himself to lead, but who no sooner reaches the
cultivated vineyard of his precursor than he begins the work of
demoralization and injustice, by denying the creed and labours of his
predecessor, clothes some disaffected chief, and infuses animosity and
discord among all parties, in order to get a footing and establish
himself; and where envy and strife are, according to the apostle’s
doctrine, there are “confusion and every evil work;” and every
additional zealot of a different creed in this field of strife increases
the disorder, for all Indians are peculiarly fond of novelty;
consequently, the last creed is with them the best. Now where there are
two, three, or more conflicting creeds at one station, as is often the
case, it may truly be said, there is neither religion nor religious
fellowship to be found in that community; but, on the contrary, every
moral and religious sentiment is destroyed, and the people are sunk
deeper and deeper in the gulf of moral degradation; and not only that,
but the missionaries, one and all, labour in vain. Yet, strange as it
may appear, such unhallowed and demoralizing scenes seldom reach either
the public eye or the public {340} ear; for the missionary or zealot of
each sect, in writing home to the parent society, so far from noticing
and reporting, with official uprightness, the true state of things,
cheats the public by exhibiting a picture of marvellous success. Solomon
hath declared that “he that soweth iniquity shall reap vanity.” Surely
there ought to be some law existing to protect and secure to the first
missionary the fruits of his enterprize and pious labour against all
such corrupt and impious interference.
To exemplify this part of our subject still further: I was once
travelling along the frontiers of Canada, when I came to a neat little
Indian village, on the bank of the St. Lawrence, containing about three
hundred souls. They had a missionary, a little white chapel, and a
thriving school, and I thought them at the time, as they also considered
themselves, perfectly comfortable and happy. Three years afterwards, a
friend of mine happened to pass through the same village; but in place
of finding them happy as they had been, everything in and about the
place was changed. The inhabitants were less numerous: instead of one
missionary and one church, they had, during the short interval, got
three missionaries, all of different persuasions, and three churches;
but so high did the tide of religious animosity among all parties then
run, that one of the churches had been recently burnt to the ground, by
some of the fanatics themselves; another was despoiled of all its
ornaments, and deserted; and the third remained, a sad memento of the
times, with but few hearers: and in place of one thriving school, there
had been no less {341} three, but with scarcely a scholar in any of
them. Such are the fruits that generally result from the unhallowed
practice of one sect interfering with another.
APPENDIX
CHINOOK VOCABULARY
One Ight
Two Muxt
Three Thlune
Four Lakat
Five Quinum
Six Tuchum
Seven Sinamuxt
Eight Istought-tekin
Nine Quie-est
Ten Eattathlelum
Eleven Eattathlelum equin ight
Twelve Eattathlelum equin muxt
Thirteen Eattathlelum equin thlune
Fourteen Eattathlelum equin lakat
Fifteen Eattathlelum equin quinum
Sixteen Eattathlelum equin tuchum
Seventeen Eattathlelum equin sinamuxt
Eighteen Eattathlelum equin istought-tekin
Nineteen Eattathlelum equin quie-est
Twenty Muxt-thlalth
Twenty-one Muxt-thlalth equin ight
Twenty-two Muxt-thlalth equin muxt
{343} Twenty-three Muxt-thlalth equin thlune
Twenty-four Muxt-thlalth equin lakat
Twenty-five Muxt-thlalth equin quinum
Twenty-six Muxt-thlalth equin tuchum
Twenty-seven Muxt-thlalth equin sinamuxt
Twenty-eight Muxt-thlalth equin istought-tekin
Twenty-nine Muxt-thlalth equin quie-est
Thirty Thlune-thlalth
Thirty-one Thlune-thlalth equin ight
Thirty-two Thlune-thlalth equin muxt
Thirty-three Thlune-thlalth equin thlune
Forty Lakat-thlalth
Fifty Quinum-thlalth
Sixty Tuchum-thlalth
Seventy Sinamuxt-thlalth
Eighty Istought-tekin-thlalth
Ninety Quie-est-thlalth
One hundred E-tha-ca-munack
Two hundred Muxt e-tha-ca-munack
Three hundred Thlune e-tha-ca-munack
Four hundred Lakat e-tha-ca-munack
Five hundred Quinum e-tha-ca-munack
One thousand Hi-oh
Two thousand Hi-oh hi-oh Three thousand Hi-oh hi-oh
hi-oh
Four thousand Hi-oh hi-oh hi-oh hi-oh
Five thousand Hi-oh hi-oh hi-oh hi-oh hi-oh
Head Thlam-eck-took
Hair Chlick-ax
Eyes Etsuck-out
Eyebrows Te-killikits-alepa
Chin Come-ach-ouetts
Nose Emeeats
Mouth Emets-kill
Ears Oak-cutsa
Beard Te-vë-vex
Cheeks Capala-ketanux
{344} Teeth Ots-ats-ach
Neck Oak-quam-ux
Face Sheaaugh-ouest
Arms Etispol-etick
Fingers Te-kux-ach
Ribs Telleman
Shoulders Ok-chak-chalea-quilea-matic
Breasts Emets-aughtick
Back Emeck-kuts-ach
Belly Eats-awanë
Legs Eatsou
Feet Tekick-acock
Grandfather Eock-acka
Grandmother Eye-kecka
Father Mamah
Mother Naha
Uncle Eyat-tessa
Aunt Elkitch-outcha
Brother A-u
Sister Ats
Son Etsicha
Daughter Oquè-cha
Nephew Ack
Husband Tlick-chall
Wife Oquack-ekull
Brother-in-law Ek-keck
Sister-in-law Oquetam
Son-in-law Exs-ech Daughter-in-law Okuste
Relations Cap-whoo
Lad Equal-èsso
Maiden Ulick
Boy Ekass-cass
Girl Ok-thla-pelchech
Fear Quass
Enemies Il-keck-o-why-matick
I _or_ me Nica
{345} Mine Nissika
You _or_ thou Mika
Yours Miss-ika
He Oeach
She Awaugh
It Ek-ek
That E-kech
These Ock-ock
Here Ek-kech
Who Tluxta
They _or_ them Yaugh-ka
And Equin
If Sminich
By-and-by Alkè _or_ quanà
Where Kach-e-walchoo
That Cat-ta
When Tshech
Nothing Onetan
How many? Queen-tshech
Yes Aa
No Next _or_ keyà
That is it Yough-ca
Long ago Ankatè
Be quick I-ake
Just now Alkè
None Canext
More Wought
Little Eanux
Good E-toukety
Bad Mass-atsy
Chief Tye-yea _or_ Ecock-a-mana
Slave Slave, elitè _or_ missche-miss
Indians Tilloch-cum
Man Col-el-acuhm
Woman Tlack-allè
House Tolth
Horse Keutan
{346} Dog Camux
Cat Piss-piss
Hog Polobax
It is true Na-wetca
Sit down Meth-lite
Rise up Echa-latsa
Come here Essa
Go away Alchoya
Large Eya-quantle
Too small Minich
For what Cat-the-ass
Affection Te-keigh
Barter Killemuck
Idle talk Kaltash wa-wa
Perhaps Thlun-ass
Give it me Thlum-èluta
Falsehood Ettlè-mena chute
Sleep Optètè
Go off Ach-ne-coyea
Go to bed Mahockste
To-day Chau
Yesterday Tanilkey
To-morrow Wo-chè
Elk Moluck
Elk-skin Clemel
Small deer Wow-wich
Canoe Kineve
Ship Ma-ma-tle
White people Pa-she-shi-ooks
River Ick-hol
Land E-lè-hë
Salmon Equanna
Sturgeon Ulchy
Gun Suck-wall-allè
Blanket Pa-chichè-till-cup
Blue cloth Othlal-ough
Red cloth Pill-pill
{347} White Till-cup
Black or blue Othlal-ough
Axe Kits-tan
Knife Opitch-ach
Needle Ke-pa-watt
Beads Cum-us-ack
Kettle Useun
Wood Ecskaun
Chest Ecskaun
Bad weather Ecusach
Rain Is-tau-elch
Sun U-laugh
Moon Ul-chey
Night Polackly
Far off Sciah
Doctor Keel-alley
Good spirit Econè
Bad spirit Ecutoch
Heart Eats-im-oughts
Sick Etsitsa
It’s done Hi-low
Full Pattle
Swan Ou-wucha
Goose Cal-a-cal-ama
Duck Oqueeh-quech
Prophet Etaminua
Priest Etaminua
Sea-otter Elackiè
Land-otter Enanamux
Beaver Enna
Musk-rat Eminticoo
Bear H-whoot
Eat Mack-amack
Hungry Oh-low
I am hungry Nica oh-low
Bread Chap-all-ell
Water Ill-chu
{348} Take it Eskam
Fire Uliptskè
Hat Ohe-a-pool
Powder Te-whoot
To look Nananitch
What’s your name? Cat-the-achal?
Shame Nachamats
Balls Caleitan
Strawberries O’lèlè
Raspberries Amute
Potatoes Wapatoe
Sweet onions Ulalach
A present Patlatch
To make Makouke
Iron Chick-amen
Brass-wire Thack-alle
Medicine Eptl-ach
Buttons Cill-cill
Steal Capshewalla
Understand Each-e-chimley
To speak Kep-all-oulaw
Great many Hi-oh
Capot Capawillaughtè
The same Quack-ick-qua
Game Chal-e-chall
Handsome Etoughtey
Herrings Owl-chaus
Tobacco Cay-nult
How many whites? Queentshech pasheshiooks?
Besides the foregoing language, there is another lingo, or rather mixed
dialect, spoken by the Chinook and other neighbouring tribes; which is
generally used in their intercourse with the whites. It is much more
easily learned, and the pronunciation {349} more agreeable to the ear
than the other, as will appear from the annexed specimen.
Great chief Hias tye-yea
Slave Miss-che-miss
Woman Tlutchè-men
Child Tunass
Good Tlòsh
Bad Pishack
No Wake
Trade Mackouk
Canoe Chippots
Very little Ta-an-ass
Balls Poll-alley
Sea-otter Quatluck
It’s true Na-wetkaha
How are you? Thla choea
To speak Wa-wa
What Ick-etta
Might Polackley
Come here Chicko
Go away Thlat-away
By-and-bye Winnippiè
Understand Come-a-tax
Big _or_ large Hi-ass
Rain Snass
Ship Shippo
Good spirit Is-co-com
Come in Meth-lite
I love you Tekeigh
Game Omintick
What are you going to trade? Ick-etta mika mackouk?
By-and-bye I’ll come again Winnippiè nica chicko
{350} A TABLE OF THE WEATHER AT THE MOUTH OF THE COLUMBIA RIVER, FROM
MARCH 22ND TILL JULY 22ND, 1811.
───────────────┬───────┬────────────────────────┬─────────┬─────────
Month and Year │ Winds │ State of the Weather │Wet Days │Dry Days
───────────────┼───────┼────────────────────────┼─────────┼─────────
1811. │ │ │ │
March 22│ S.W. │Snow and hail │ 1 │
23│ W. │Snow and rain │ 1 │
24│ S.W. │Rain │ 1 │
25│ S.W. │Moderate │ │ 1
26│ S.W. │Fog and rain │ 1 │
27│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
28│ S.W. │Rain │ 1 │
29│ E. │Rain │ 1 │
30│ W. │Some snow │ 1 │
31│ S.W. │Clear weather │ │ 1
April 1│ W. │Rain │ 1 │
2│ W. │Rain │ 1 │
3│ S.W. │Clear and dry │ │ 1
4│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
5│ E. │Clear │ │ 1
6│ S.W. │Rain │ 1 │
7│ N. │Rain │ 1 │
8│ S.W. │Foggy │ 1 │
9│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
10│ S.W. │Rain │ 1 │
11│ W. │Rain │ 1 │
12│ N. │Rain │ 1 │
13│ N. │Heavy fog │ 1 │
14│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
15│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
16│ S.W. │Rain │ 1 │
17│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
18│ W. │Foggy │ 1 │
19│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
20│ S.W. │Some rain │ 1 │
21│ E. │Mist and rain │ 1 │
22│ E. │Clear │ │ 1
23│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
24│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
25│ S.W. │Rain │ 1 │
26│ E. │Rain │ 1 │
{351} 27│ N. │Mist and rain │ 1 │
28│ N. │Clear │ │ 1
29│ E. │Clear │ │ 1
30│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
May 1│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
2│ S.E. │Cloudy │ 1 │
3│ S.E. │Rain │ 1 │
4│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
5│ W. │Heavy Fog │ 1 │
6│ N. │Mist and rain │ 1 │
7│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
8│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
9│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
10│ E. │Foggy and rain │ 1 │
11│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
12│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
13│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
14│ N. │Rain │ 1 │
15│ N.W. │Clear and warm │ │ 1
16│ S.W. │Clear and dry │ │ 1
17│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
18│ S.W. │Fog and rain │ 1 │
19│ W. │Heavy mist │ 1 │
20│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
21│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
22│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
23│ N.E. │Rain │ 1 │
24│ N.E. │Clear │ │ 1
25│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
26│ S.W. │Rain │ 1 │
27│ S.W. │Foggy and clear │ │ 1
28│ E. │Rain │ 1 │
29│ N. │Rain │ 1 │
30│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
31│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
June 1│ W. │Clear and dry │ │ 1
2│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
3│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
4│ S.W. │Clear, S. wind │ │ 1
5│ E. │Clear │ │ 1
6│ N. │Rain │ 1 │
7│ S.W. │Foggy │ 1 │
8│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
9│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
10│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
11│ S.W. │Mist │ 1 │
{352} 12│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
13│ N.W. │Foggy │ 1 │
14│ N. │Rain │ 1 │
15│ E. │Rainy │ 1 │
16│ N.W. │Clear │ │ 1
17│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
18│ W. │Very sultry │ 1 │
19│ S.W. │Strong heat │ │ 1
20│ S.W. │Sultry │ │ 1
21│ S.W. │Sultry │ │ 1
22│ S.W. │Dull weather │ │ 1
23│ W. │Rain │ 1 │
24│ N.W. │Rain │ 1 │
25│ W. │Cloudy │ │ 1
26│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
27│ S.W. │Clear │ │ 1
28│ W. │Clear │ │ 1
29│ N.E. │Very sultry │ │ 1
30│ E. │Cloudy │ │ 1
July 1│ S.W. │Clear and dry │ │ 1
───────────────┼───────┼────────────────────────┼─────────┼─────────
2│ S.W. │Thermometer stood 93° │ │ 3
3│ „ │ „ │ │ „
4│ „ │ „ │ │ „
───────────────┼───────┼────────────────────────┼─────────┼─────────
5│ W. │Windy and rain │ 1 │
───────────────┼───────┼────────────────────────┼─────────┼─────────
6│ S.W. │Clear and warm │ │ 4
7│ „ │ „ │ │ „
8│ „ │ „ │ │ „
9│ „ │ „ │ │ „
───────────────┼───────┼────────────────────────┼─────────┼─────────
10│ W. │Sultry, thermometer 92° │ │ 2
11│ „ │ „ │ │ „
───────────────┼───────┼────────────────────────┼─────────┼─────────
12│ S.W. │Sultry and calm │ │ 3
13│ „ │ „ │ │ „
14│ „ │ „ │ │ „
───────────────┼───────┼────────────────────────┼─────────┼─────────
15│ W. │Cloudy and rain │ 1 │
16│ N. │Cloudy, some rain │ 1 │
───────────────┼───────┼────────────────────────┼─────────┼─────────
17│ W. │Clear and dry │ │ 4
18│ „ │ „ │ │ „
19│ „ │ „ │ │ „
20│ „ │ „ │ │ „
───────────────┼───────┼────────────────────────┼─────────┼─────────
21│ S.W. │Thermometer ab. Zero 95 │ │ 2
22│ „ │ „ │ │ „
───────────────┴───────┴────────────────────────┴─────────┴─────────
-----
Footnote 1:
Gabriel Franchère, _Voyage_ (French original, published at Montreal in
1820; English translation published in New York, 1854); Ross Cox,
_Adventures on the Columbia River_ (London, 1831); and Alexander Ross,
_Adventures_ (London, 1849). We reprint the first and third of these.
Footnote 2:
For a brief account of the discoveries of the North-west Coast, see
Thwaites, _Rocky Mountain Exploration_ (New York, 1904), chap. i. For
notes on Vancouver and Drake, see Franchère’s _Narrative_, volume vi
of our series, notes 2, 66. Further references to this _Narrative_, in
the following notes, will be to that reprint.—ED.
Footnote 3:
For brief sketch of John Jacob Astor, see Franchère’s _Narrative_,
volume vi. of our series, note 8.—ED.
Footnote 4:
For the history of the great fur-trade companies, see Turner,
“Character and Influence of the Fur Trade in Wisconsin,” Wisconsin
Historical Society _Proceedings_, 1889; Chittenden, _History of
American Fur Trade in Far West_ (New York, 1902); J. Long’s _Voyages_,
volume ii of our series, preface. The Mackinac Company, composed of
British subjects, was formed before the surrender of the Upper Lakes
posts to the Americans (1796). It operated chiefly in the West and
South-west; and in 1807, Americans on Lake Ontario fired upon its
brigade. See Michigan _Pioneer and Historical Collections_, xxv, pp.
250–257. This company was a source of dispute between Canada and the
United States until Astor purchased its stock. At the time of sale,
the North West Company’s partners held a controlling interest.—ED.
Footnote 5:
The word “Oregon” was not an appellation of the Spaniards, but appears
to have first been employed in 1778 by the English traveller, Captain
Jonathan Carver (concerning whom see J. Long’s _Voyages_, volume ii of
our series, note 5). On the meaning thereof, see Oregon Historical
Society _Quarterly_, June, 1900; also H. H. Bancroft, _History of
Oregon_ (San Francisco, 1886), i, pp. 17–25.—ED.
Footnote 6:
For brief biography of these partners of the Pacific Fur Company, see
Bradbury’s _Travels_, volume v of our series, note 4; Franchère’s
_Narrative_, notes 9, 10.—ED.
Footnote 7:
Concerning Mackenzie’s discoveries, see Franchère, note 4. McKay
accompanied Mackenzie upon his second voyage to the Pacific, not upon
his first expedition to the Arctic.—ED.
Footnote 8:
Relative to Hunt, Crooks, McClellan, and Miller, see Bradbury’s
_Travels_, volume v of our series, notes 2, 3, 72; for Clarke, see
Franchère, note 81.—ED.
Footnote 9:
For what is known of these clerks, see Franchère, notes 76, 84. For
Robert Stuart, see Bradbury’s _Travels_, in our volume v, note 117.—
ED.
Footnote 10:
Compare the following description of the voyage of the “Tonquin” with
that of Franchère; on the “Constitution,” Captain Thorn, and the
Hawaiian Islands, see _ibid._, notes 18, 19, 21.—ED.
Footnote 11:
Compare Ross’s account of the Hawaiian Islands with that of Franchère,
especially notes 22–34.—ED.
Footnote 12:
Compare the following account with that of Franchère, particularly
notes 36, 37, 40, 41.—ED.
Footnote 13:
Compare Ross’s description of the building of Astoria with that of
Franchère, particularly notes 42, 44, 61.—ED.
Footnote 14:
The tribes of the Pacific coast were numerous, and their
classification varies. For the Chinook, Clatsop, Wakiacum, Cathlapotle
(Cattleputles), Tillamook (Killamux), Multnomah, and Chehalis
(Chickelis), see Franchère, notes 39, 40, 45, 52, 53, 65, 67. The
other tribes cannot positively be identified, except the Katlamat
(Cathlamux), who were a branch of the Upper Chinook, giving name to
the town of Cathlamet, Washington. On the subject of the native races
of this section, see Thwaites, _Original Journals of Lewis and Clark
Expedition_ (New York, 1904), under Scientific Data: Ethnology.—ED.
Footnote 15:
For information concerning the wood-rat, sea-otter, and chepool, see
Franchère, notes 128–130.—ED.
Footnote 16:
For the characteristic fish of this coast, see Franchère, notes 88,
124–126. The _ulichan_ is the candlefish, so named because it is fat
enough to burn for illuminating purposes.—ED.
Footnote 17:
For the wappato root see Franchère, note 87.—ED.
Footnote 18:
Captain John Meares, born about 1756, served in the British navy,
where he attained the rank of lieutenant. After the Peace of Paris
(1783) he entered the merchant service, and founded a commercial house
in Macao, China, to trade with the North-west Coast of North America.
In 1786 he made his first voyage thither. Two years later, he formed
an establishment at Nootka Sound, and explored the coast to the south—
failing, however, to recognize the outlet of the Columbia as the mouth
of a great river. In 1789, Meares’s establishment at Nootka was
demolished by the Spaniards, which led to the diplomatic incident
known as the Nootka Sound episode. His book appeared during this
controversy—_Voyages made in the years 1788 and 1789 to the N. W.
Coast of America_ (London, 1791). Meares finally returned to the navy,
became commander in 1795, and died in 1809.—ED.
Footnote 19:
For brief account of Vancouver, see Franchère, note 2. Port Discovery,
on the northern coast of Washington, was named for Vancouver’s ship.
Desolation Sound was farther north in the Gulf of Georgia.—ED.
Footnote 20:
For the appearance of these flattened heads, see Clark’s drawings of
the Chinook, in _Original Journals of Lewis and Clark Expedition_.—ED.
Footnote 21:
For the promontory known as Tongue Point, see Franchère, note 44.
Gray’s Bay was named for Captain Robert Gray, _op. cit._, note 1.
“Oathlamuck” Point is that now known as Cathlamet Point, in Clatsop
County, Oregon. This does not bound Gray’s Bay, except as it is the
point below which the river widens into great inlets.—ED.
Footnote 22:
Puget’s Island, in the Columbia opposite Cathlamet, Washington, was
named when Broughton explored the Columbia (1792), for Peter Puget,
lieutenant of Vancouver’s vessel, the “Discovery.” For Oak Point, see
Franchère, note 74. Ross is the only contemporary writer who mentions
this Indian village by name.—ED.
Footnote 23:
Ross confuses the names of two landmarks; the first should be Mount
Coffin (see Franchère, note 48), the second Coffin Rock. The first is
an isolated cliff on the Washington bank of the river, the second a
rocky islet toward the Oregon side—both used as places of Indian
sepulture. For Deer Island, see Franchère, note 75.—ED.
Footnote 24:
For this chief, see Franchère, note 51.—ED.
Footnote 25:
The “Namowit” Indians were one tribe of those designated by Lewis and
Clark as the “Wappato” Indians; see _Original Journals of Lewis and
Clark Expedition_, under Scientific Data: Estimate of Western Indians.
For Bellevue Point, see Franchère, note 55. Johnson’s Island was named
by Broughton (1792) for the lieutenant of his vessel, the “Chatham;”
Lewis and Clark called it Diamond Island; it is now known as
Government Island, in Multnomah County, Oregon. Wasougal
(Wasough-ally) is a small stream entering the Columbia from the north,
in Clark County, Washington. Quicksand River, so named by Lewis and
Clark, is the present Sandy, a considerable stream draining the
western slope of Mount Hood, and flowing into the Columbia through
Multnomah County, Oregon.—ED.
Footnote 26:
For the location of Point Vancouver, see Franchère, note 55.—ED.
Footnote 27:
The rock that Ross and the Scotch Canadians of his party named
“Inshoach Castle,” was probably the well-known landmark now called
Beacon Rock, which marks the extent of tidal influence, and may be
seen for twenty miles down the river.—ED.
Footnote 28:
For Strawberry Island and the portage of the Cascades, see Franchère,
note 112.—ED.
Footnote 29:
Lewis and Clark called these natives at the Cascades, Clahclellahs,
and included them among the generic name of Shahalas, a branch of the
Upper Chinook. The tribesmen were a thieving, troublesome lot, as
Ross’s subsequent narrative will show.—ED.
Footnote 30:
Wind River, in Skamania County, Washington.—ED.
Footnote 31:
Michel Boulard had since 1800 been a voyageur with Thompson. In
1806–07 he wintered at Rocky Mountain House, and the following spring
crossed the range to Kootenay. The next four winters were spent in the
mountains, and he was one of the seven canoe men who brought Thompson
to Astoria in July, 1811. For his later connection with the Astorians,
see _post_.—ED.
Footnote 32:
Ross’s designations of Indian tribes differ from those of other
travellers in this region. Lewis and Clark called the permanent
dwellers at the narrows, Echelutes. Wyampam must be another name for
the same tribe—a branch of the Upper Chinooks.—ED.
Footnote 33:
The river which Ross calls “Lowhum,” had several designations among
early travellers. Lewis and Clark call it “Towarnahiooks.” All
evidently endeavored to give it the Indian name, which was an
imitation of the sound made by the falls at its mouth. It is at
present known as Des Chutes River.—ED.
Footnote 34:
Ross later relates the adventures of the pioneer John Day, from whom
this river takes its name.—ED.
Footnote 35:
The identification of “Suppa” River is uncertain. The largest affluent
of the Columbia between John Day and Umatilla River is that Oregon
stream now known as Willow Creek.—ED.
Footnote 36:
For the Umatilla River, see Franchère, note 141. A large isolated
cliff, just below the mouth of the Umatilla, is still called Castle
Rock.—ED.
Footnote 37:
The rapid here described, is now known as the Umatilla Rapid; Lewis
and Clark designated it as “The Musselshell,” from the heaps of those
shells spread out upon the banks. The brigade had just passed the
present boundary of Oregon, 46° of north latitude.—ED.
Footnote 38:
The Wallawalla Indians are of the Shahaptian stock—one of the great
families of the inland Columbians, to which the Nez Percés and
Umatilla belong. Usually they were hospitable and well-affected
towards the whites. Lewis and Clark especially mention their friendly
disposition. Many years later, they became disaffected and joined the
Cayuse in acts of hostility. A treaty was made with the Wallawallas in
1855, whereby they surrendered their lands, and retired to the
Umatilla reservation, where at the last report (1902) five hundred and
sixty-nine were still residing. The “Shaw Haptens” were a kindred race
speaking the Shahaptian language.
This appears to be the first mention of the Cayuse tribe, later so
prominent in Oregon history. Their language was unlike that of the
Wallawalla, so that they are classified as Waülatpuans. Their habitat
was the Wallawalla Valley, and south and east of the great bend of the
Columbia. Their herds of horses were so numerous that “cayuse” has
become a generic term for Indian ponies. These Indians constituted the
largest and most powerful tribe of Eastern Oregon. Among them the
American Board founded a mission, and it was this tribe that
perpetrated the Whitman massacre of 1847. Broken in spirit and numbers
by the settlers’ avenging warfare, five chiefs were in 1850
surrendered for trial and executed. Five years later, the Cayuse
formally ceded their lands and retired to the Umatilla reservation,
where three hundred and ninety-one are now (1902) reported. They have
abandoned their language for that of the Wallawalla.—ED.
Footnote 39:
Thompson records (July 9, 1811) “½ a mile to the Junction of the
Shawpatin [Snake] River with this the Columbia, here I erected a small
Pole, with a half Sheet of Paper well tied about it, with these words
on it—Know hereby that this country is claimed by Great Britain as
part of its Territories, & that the N W Company of Merchants from
Canada, finding the Factory for this People inconvenient for them, do
intend to erect a Factory in this Place for the Commerce of the
Country around. D. Thompson.”—_Henry-Thompson Journals_, p. 748.—ED.
Footnote 40:
Ross is here inaccurate. The Snake River was called the Lewis; but to
the Columbia above the fork, the explorers never applied the name of
Clark—that was given to the large northern branch still called Clark’s
Fork of the Columbia, upon whose upper waters the explorers rested
when crossing the mountains.—ED.
Footnote 41:
The Yakima (Eyakema) River enters the Columbia from the east, about
ten miles above the Snake. It is a large tributary, draining the
eastern slope of the Cascade Range. Lewis and Clark called it the
Tapteet. The Northern Pacific Railway follows the valley of the Yakima
for some distance.—ED.
Footnote 42:
It was on the return journey (May 1, 1806) that three Wallawalla
overtook Lewis and Clark, with a steel trap which they had travelled a
day’s journey to restore.—ED.
Footnote 43:
This is the Gualquil Rapid, one hundred and ten miles above the mouth
of Snake River. The Kewaughtohenemachs are mentioned only by Ross;
they were probably a Pisquow tribe. For a description of the Columbia
above the entrance of the Snake, see Symons, _Upper Columbia River_
(Washington, 1882.)—ED.
Footnote 44:
Column Bluffs is the usual designation of this point on the river,
about ten miles above Gualquil Rapid. According to an Indian legend,
two wicked women who lived here were accustomed to kill those who
passed. The Indians begged the Great Spirit to destroy them, and he,
answering their prayer, sent an immense bird which picked out their
brains and turned them into stone.—ED.
Footnote 45:
Lewis and Clark called this river Wahnaacha, after the tribe of
Pisquow Indians of that name who dwelt along its banks. Wenatchee and
Pischous are both used to designate the stream at the present time. It
takes its rise in the Wenatchee Mountains and flows south-eastward,
emptying into the Columbia one hundred and forty-eight miles from the
mouth of the Snake. The Great Northern Railway follows its course.—ED.
Footnote 46:
Oak Point, mentioned so frequently in accounts of Columbian
exploration, was near Astoria—Franchère, note 74. The one here
referred to must be near the mouth of the Entiatqua (Entiyatecoom)
River, known to the Canadian voyageurs as Point de Bois. The
Entiatqua, which Ross calls Intyclook, is a small stream about a
hundred feet wide, flowing into the Columbia from the west, fifteen
miles above the Pischous.—ED.
Footnote 47:
Between Oak Point and White Hill Rapid the west bank is a continuous
volcanic bluff about two thousand feet high and striped with
different-colored strata—white, gray, black, and dark brown. The rapid
was doubtless named from the white hills on the eastern side.—ED.
Footnote 48:
Concerning these animals, see Franchère, note 172.—ED.
Footnote 49:
This is the Chelan River, which empties into the Columbia from the
north-west, about one hundred and eighty-five miles above the Snake.
It is but two and a half miles long, is the outlet of a considerable
lake of the same name, and has a fall of two hundred and fifty feet.
Just above its mouth was the principal village of the Chelan tribe, a
branch of the Salish. A military post was established on this lake
(1880), but not long after was removed to Spokane.—ED.
Footnote 50:
Ross also calls this the Meathow River, and Methow is at present the
usual appellation. The rapids just below the mouth have been named
Ross Rapids, probably in honor of our author.—ED.
Footnote 51:
The distance is really about one hundred and twenty-five miles. For a
brief history of Okanagan post, see Franchère, note 71.—ED.
Footnote 52:
This river was discovered by the explorer Thompson (for whom see
Franchère, note 61). It has two large branches, a northern and an
eastern, which unite at Lake Kamloops, one hundred and fifty miles
directly north of the Okanagan post; the united stream then flows
south-west for about ninety miles and unites with the Fraser.
Thompson, thinking that he was upon the Columbia, descended its
northern branch to the forks.—ED.
Footnote 53:
The Shushwaps (She Whaps) are a branch of the Salishan family and
closely allied in language and habits to the tribes about Okanagan
post. They were also called Atnahs (strangers), a name given them by
the Carrier Indians, farther to the north-west. They formerly occupied
the country along the Thompson and its branches, but by 1900 they were
reduced to fifty-four persons.—ED.
Footnote 54:
For an account of this Indian, see Franchère, note 46.—ED.
Footnote 55:
Compare Franchère’s account of the destruction of the “Tonquin” with
this of Ross. The village was Newity or New Whitty. Nootka Sound is on
the west coast of Vancouver Island, in latitude 49° 50′ north.—ED.
Footnote 56:
For notes on the following persons and places mentioned in this
chapter, see Bradbury’s _Travels_, volume v of our series: Hunt, note
2; McKenzie, note 4; Crooks, note 3; Missouri Fur Company, note 149;
Miller, note 72; Nadowa, note 5; McClellan, note 72.—ED.
Footnote 57:
This route, travelled by Marquette and Jolliet in 1673 was from a
well-established Indian and French waterway between the Great Lakes
and the Mississippi. The Fox River (of Wisconsin) was ascended from
Green Bay to the present site of Portage, Wisconsin; a portage path of
a mile and a half in length was followed (in floods, the intervening
swamp was overflowed, and Wisconsin River waters emptied into the
Fox), and the Wisconsin was descended to its junction with the
Mississippi, at Prairie du Chien.—ED.
Footnote 58:
The Three Tetons are the most noted historic peaks in the Rocky
Mountains. The topography of the country is such that the highest
peak, Grand Teton (13,691 feet) can be seen from a great distance and
has long served as a landmark to trappers and pioneers. Unlike the
mountains of that region, the Tetons are not hemmed in by foothills,
but rise in bold relief from the surrounding plateau—the Grand Teton
towering seven thousand feet above Jackson Lake, at its base. The
range is but sixty miles long and lies some twenty-five miles
south-west of Yellowstone Lake. It is crossed by Teton Pass, about
twenty miles south of Grand Teton.—ED.
Footnote 59:
For a sketch of Stuart, see Bradbury’s _Travels_, volume v of our
series, note 119.
Russell Farnham of Massachusetts came to Astoria on the “Tonquin.” He
left with Captain Hunt on the brig “Pedlar,” was landed at Kamchatka,
journeyed overland to Hamburg, and sailed thence to New York. When the
American Fur Company resumed operations after the War of 1812–15, he
was foremost in endeavoring to establish posts on the Missouri River.
In 1831 he had charge of the trade in the country of the Sauk and Fox
Indians, and died at St. Louis, October 30, 1832.—ED.
Footnote 60:
For a brief description of the Snake Indians, see Bradbury’s
_Travels_, note 123.—ED.
Footnote 61:
Lewis and Clark state that the Indians designated the great falls of
the Columbia by the words “Timm,” so pronounced as to represent the
fall of a distant cataract.—ED.
Footnote 62:
Simon Fraser, on his first expedition west of the Rocky Mountains
(1805), gave the name “New Caledonia” to the region of Stuart and
upper Fraser rivers, whose numerous lakes, lying among the bold and
craggy mountains, reminded him of the Scotch highlands. The following
year, accompanied by John Stuart, he farther explored the country and
established St. James post, on Stuart River. For some time the
boundaries of New Caledonia were indefinite, but its southern limit
was always over two hundred miles north of Okanagan post. After it was
erected into a district of the Hudson’s Bay Company, it extended from
51° 30′ to 56° north latitude and from 124° 10′ west longitude to the
Rocky Mountains. Fort Alexandria (established 1821), on Fraser River,
one hundred and seventy miles north of Fort Okanagan, became the
principal trading post of the district.—ED.
Footnote 63:
Concerning John Clarke, see Franchère, note 81.—ED.
Footnote 64:
For further information regarding the St. Louis party, see Bradbury’s
_Travels_, note 119.—ED.
Footnote 65:
This is Fort Kamloops, also known as Fort Thompson. It was built by
David Thompson (1810) at the junction of the northern and the eastern
branches of Thompson River, a few miles from Lake Kamloops and one
hundred and fifty miles north of Okanagan post. It became the centre
of the Thompson River district of the Hudson’s Bay Company. In 1841
the agent, Black, was murdered in the fort by some Indians, and his
successor had the stockade removed across the river to the south side.
It is now a town on the Canadian Pacific Railroad, and in 1890 had a
population of fifteen hundred.—ED.
Footnote 66:
An account of Spokane Fort is given in Franchère, note 85.—ED.
Footnote 67:
For a brief biography of Larocque, see Franchère, note 90.—ED.
Footnote 68:
Similkameen is the present name of this river. It rises in the Cascade
Mountains not far from the boundary line, and flows south-east into
the Okanagan.—ED.
Footnote 69:
The Palouse River—Drewyer’s River of Lewis and Clark. Palouse is
probably an Indian word, although it has been connected with the
French word “pelouse,” in that it flows through a rolling, bunch-grass
country, the most fertile in eastern Washington. It empties into the
Snake eighty-five miles from the Columbia, and is its only important
tributary on the northern side.—ED.
Footnote 70:
Concerning the Nez Percés, see Franchère, note 145.—ED.
Footnote 71:
For an account of Cox, see Franchère, note 84.—ED.
Footnote 72:
The original Kootenay post was established by Thompson in July, 1807,
on the Columbia River (called by him Kootenay) just below lower
Columbia Lake. He wintered here in 1808–09 and 1809–10.
In 1808, Finan McDonald, a member of Thompson’s party, built a post at
the southern end of the loop in the Kootenay River, in the north-west
corner of the present state of Montana, five miles south of the
boundary line. This became an important North West fort. McDonald
remained until late in 1811, when Montour was placed in charge.
Nicholas Montour was in 1804 a clerk in the employ of the North West
Company at Fort de Prairie. From 1811 to 1816 he was active on the
Columbia, moving about between Fort Kootenay, Spokane, and Okanagan,
with headquarters at Spokane after 1814. See Coues, _Henry-Thompson
Journals_, ii, pp. 606, 672–675, 757.—ED.
Footnote 73:
For a description of the Salishan Indians, see Franchère, note 145.—
ED.
Footnote 74:
The Kootenai or Flatbows wandered between the northern forks of the
Columbia and the Rocky Mountains. Possibly they were the Tushepaws of
Lewis and Clark. They were unrelated to any of the surrounding
peoples, and resembled more the Indians east of the Rocky Mountains.—
ED.
Footnote 75:
The Blackfeet Indians are treated in Bradbury’s _Travels_, note 120.—
ED.
Footnote 76:
Lake Cœur d’Alêne (Pointed Heart) is at the head of Spokane River,
about twenty-five miles south-east of Spokane Falls. It is a small
lake fed by the Cœur d’Alêne and St. Joseph rivers, flowing from the
Bitter Root Mountains. There are two theories regarding the origin of
the name—one, that the Indians living there were so sharp at
bargaining that the fur traders named them Cœur d’Alênes,
“Awl-Hearts,” or “Pointed Hearts;” the other, that among the first
traders was a Canadian of so close and niggardly a disposition that
the Indians applied an epithet to him which the interpreter translated
“Cœur d’Alêne,” and the name became fixed upon the Indians.—ED.
Footnote 77:
On his map, Ross located McKenzie’s post on the Snake at the mouth of
Reed’s River, the present Boisé River. Fort Boisé, a Hudson’s Bay
post, was afterwards established there.—ED.
Footnote 78:
A biography of M‘Tavish will be found in Franchère, note 90.—ED.
Footnote 79:
Concerning Seton, see Franchère, note 81.—ED.
Footnote 80:
For notes on the following persons and places mentioned in this
chapter, see Bradbury’s _Travels_, volume v of our series: Hoback,
Rezner, and Robinson, note 65; Crow Indians, note 121; Arapaho
Indians, note 120; Oto Indians, note 42.—ED.
Footnote 81:
The Kalapuya, an isolated family, were once a numerous people dwelling
at the falls of the Willamette. In 1841 they numbered less than five
hundred, and by the middle of the century were practically extinct. In
civilization they occupied a middle position between the wandering
tribes of the interior and the debased Indians of the coast. It is
impossible to reconcile the names of the Kalapuya tribes given by Ross
with other lists of lower Willamette Indians. He alone extends the
Kalapuya to its mouth, while Lewis and Clark, Morse (_Report to the
Secretary of War_, Washington, 1822), and Hale (_United States
Exploring Expedition_, Philadelphia, 1846, vol. vi) confine them to
the falls, and place Chinook tribes below that point.—ED.
Footnote 82:
For an account of this chief, see Franchère, note 51.—ED.
Footnote 83:
This is the Umpqua, the largest river between the Sacramento and the
Columbia. It rises in the Cascade Range and empties into the Pacific
Ocean about two hundred and twenty-five miles south of the Columbia.
The fur-trading post Fort Umpqua, was on the southern bank about forty
miles from the ocean.—ED.
Footnote 84:
Joseph Gervais, a French Canadian, came to Astoria with Captain Hunt
in 1811. After the abandonment of that post, he became a “free
trapper,” and married the daughter of a Clatsop chief. Desiring a more
settled life, in 1828 he selected a place on the Willamette, a short
distance below the present Salem, and raised wheat. A few years later
other French Canadians, retired Hudson’s Bay clerks, became farmers
along the Willamette and the district became known as French Prairie.
Gervais took an active part in establishing the provisional government
of Oregon in 1843. He became prosperous, and lived on French Prairie
until his death (1861) at the age of eighty-four years.—ED.
Footnote 85:
For further information regarding Baranoff and the Russian
settlements, see Franchère, note 93.—ED.
Footnote 86:
A brief account of Sitka will be found in Franchère, note 68. Sitka
and New Archangel were identical. Sitka was destroyed by the Indians
in 1802 and in 1804 a post called New Archangel, was built at the same
place. It is situated on Sitka Sound, Baranoff Island, in latitude 57°
north. St. Paul is on the north-east shore of Kadiak Island, off the
coast of Alaska, in latitude 58°.—ED.
Footnote 87:
Astor felt that he had been cheated in the transfer of Astoria, and
charged McDougal with betraying his interests. See his letter to John
Quincy Adams, January, 1823, in Lyman, _History of Oregon_, ii, pp.
298–301; also Irving, _Astoria_, chap. 29. Astor stated that McDougal
sold the entire property for about $58,000, less the wages due the
men; that beaver was sold for two dollars and otter for fifty cents a
skin, both of which were at the time worth five or six dollars each in
Canton, China. Altogether he considered the property worth nearly
$200,000 above the sum received. Bancroft defends McDougal at length—
_History of North-west Coast_, ii, pp. 221–230. Admitting that the
property was sold at a loss, he contends McDougal was justified in
thinking Astoria could not be maintained, and that it was better to
get what he could for Astor, before fort and furs were captured by a
British ship of war.—ED.
Footnote 88:
For a brief discussion of Franchère’s attitude toward the North West
Company, see the preface to volume vi of our series.—ED.
Footnote 89:
Michel Laframboise came to Oregon on the “Tonquin.” When Astoria was
transferred to the British, he entered the service of the North West
Company, and throughout the remainder of his life was with them and
the Hudson’s Bay Company. He obtained a small piece of property on
French Prairie, but his restless disposition was unsuited to farming.
In his later years he conducted exploring parties through the country
between the Columbia and California, serving as Captain Wilkes’s guide
in 1841.—ED.
Footnote 90:
A brief sketch of John McDonald is given in Franchère, note 104.—ED.
Footnote 91:
For an account of David Porter, see Franchère, note 105.—ED.
Footnote 92:
This is the island of Maui, north-west of Hawaii. There are two high
volcanic islands, east Maui and west Maui, connected by a low
isthmus.—ED.
Footnote 93:
Concerning James Keith and Alexander Stuart, see Franchère, notes 108,
102.—ED.
Footnote 94:
For a sketch of Pierre Dorion, see Bradbury’s _Travels_, note 7.—ED.
Footnote 95:
Ross is here enumerating all the Salishan tribes living on the
Columbia between the Yakima and Spokane rivers, and on the lower
Okanagan. For the first seven, see notes 42, 44, 45, 48, _ante_. The
Inspellum were east of Okanagan. The Sinpohellechach were the San
Poils at the mouth of San Poil River, forty-five miles west of Spokane
River. They were closely related to the Spokane Indians. Samilkamigh
is, of course, Similkameen, a tribe on the river of the same name.—ED.
Footnote 96:
The Conconully River is an affluent of the Okanagan, entering a short
distance above its mouth.—ED.
Footnote 97:
From his residence among the Okanagan and his marriage to the daughter
of a chief of this tribe, Ross had ample opportunity to learn their
customs; he seems to speak wholly from observation. Ross Cox, who in
1816 was stationed at Okanagan, also gives a description of these
Indians, which in the main agrees with Ross’s account, although
differing in some important details.—ED.
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