Chapter I (5)

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.