Chapter XXV

FIRST IMMIGRANTS THROUGH THE NATCHESS PASS, 1853.

While the breaking of the barrier of the great mountain range for the immigrants to Puget Sound through the Natchess Pass was not in a baptism of blood, certainly it was under the stress of great suffering and anxiety, as shown by the graphic letter following, of that indefatigable worker and painstaking searcher after historic facts, Geo. H. Himes, now of Portland, Oregon, the real father of that great institution, the Oregon Historical Society.

Having, as the reader will see by the reading of other chapters of this work, had some keen personal experiences through this gap of the mountains, it is but natural the incidents will come nearer home to me than to the general reader, particularly as I know the sincerity of purpose of the writer and the utter absence of any spirit of exaggeration. Although some errors have crept into Mr. Himes' letter, where he has drawn from other sources yet this in nowise detracts from the value of his statements, but shows how very difficult it is to ascertain exact facts so long after the events.

The letter follows:

"Portland, Oregon, Jan. 23, 1905.

"My Dear Meeker:

"Some time early in August, 1853, Nelson Sargent, from Puget
Sound, met our party in Grand Ronde Valley, saying to his father,
Asher Sargent, mother, two sisters and two brothers, and such
others as he could make an impression on, 'You want to go to
Puget Sound. That is a better country than the Willamette Valley.
All the good land is taken up there; but in the Sound region you
can have the pick of the best. The settlers on Puget Sound have
cut a road through Natchess Pass, and you can go direct from
the Columbia through the Cascade Mountains, and thus avoid the
wearisome trip through the mountains over the Barlow route to
Portland, and then down the Columbia to Cowlitz River, and then
over a miserable road to Puget Sound.'

"A word about the Sargents. Asher Sargent and his son Nelson
left Indiana in 1849 for California. The next year they drifted
northward to the northern part of Oregon—Puget Sound. Some time
late in 1850 Nelson and a number of others were shipwrecked
on Queen Charlotte Island, and remained among the savages for
several months. The father, not hearing from the son, supposed
he was lost, and in 1851 returned to Indiana. Being rescued in
time, Nelson wrote home that he was safe; so in the spring of
1853 the Sargents, Longmire, Van Ogle, and possibly some others
from Indiana, started for Oregon. Somewhere on the Platte the
Biles (two families), Bakers (two families), Downeys, Kinkaids,
my father's family (Tyrus Himes), John Dodge and family—John
Dodge did the stone work on the original Territorial university
building at Seattle; Tyrus Himes was the first boot and
shoemaker north of the Columbia River; James Biles was the first
tanner, and a lady, Mrs. Frazier, was the first milliner and
dressmaker—all met and journeyed westward peaceably together,
all bound for Willamette Valley. The effect of Nelson Sargent's
presence and portrayal of the magnificent future of Puget Sound
caused most members of this company of 140 or more persons—or the
leaders thereof, James Biles being the most conspicuous—to follow
his (Sargent's) leadership. At length the Umatilla campground was
reached, which was situated about three miles below the present
city of Pendleton. From that point the company headed for old
Fort Walla Walla (Wallula of today), on the Columbia River. It
was understood that there would be no difficulty in crossing,
but no boat was found. Hence a flatboat was made by whip-sawing
lumber out of driftwood. Then we went up the Yakima River,
crossing it eight times. Then to the Natchess River, through the
sage brush, frequently as high as a covered wagon, which had to
be cut down before we could pass through it. On September 15th
we reached the mountains and found that there was no road,
nothing but an Indian trail to follow. Indeed, there was no road
whatever after leaving the Columbia, and nothing but a trail
from the Umatilla to the Columbia; but being an open country, we
had no particular difficulty in making headway. But I remember
all hands felt quite serious the night we camped in the edge of
the timber—the first of any consequence that we had seen—on the
night of the 15th of September. Sargent said he knew the settlers
had started to make a road, and could not understand why it
was not completed; and since his parents, brothers and sisters
were in the company, most of us believed that he did not intend
to deceive. However, there was no course to pursue but to go
forward. So we pushed on as best we could, following the bed of
the stream part of the time, first on one bank and then on the
other. Every little ways we would reach a point too difficult to
pass; then we would go to the high ground and cut our way through
the timber, frequently not making more than two or three miles a
day. Altogether, the Natchess was crossed sixty-eight times. On
this journey there was a stretch of fifty miles without a blade
of grass—the sole subsistence of cattle and horses being browse
from young maple and alder trees, which was not very filling, to
say the least. In making the road every person from ten years old
up lent a hand, and there is where your humble servant had his
first lessons in trail making, barefooted to boot, but not much,
if any, worse off than many others. It was certainly a strenuous
time for the women, and many were the forebodings indulged in as
to the probability of getting safely through. One woman, 'Aunt
Pop', as she was called—one of the Woolery women—would break down
and shed tears now and then; but in the midst of her weeping she
would rally and by some quaint remark or funny story would cause
everybody in her vicinity to forget their troubles.

"In due time the summit of the Cascades was reached. Here there
was a small prairie—really, it was an old burn that had not
grown up to timber of any size. Now it was October, about
the 8th of the month, and bitter cold to the youth with bare
feet and fringed pants extending half way down from knees to
feet. My father and the teams had left camp and gone across the
little burn, where most of the company was assembled, apparently
debating about the next movement to make. And no wonder, for as
we came across we saw the cause of the delay. For a sheer thirty
feet or more there was an almost perpendicular bluff, and the
only way to go forward was by that way, as was demonstrated by
an examination all about the vicinity. Heavy timber at all other
points precluded the possibility of getting on by any other
route. So the longest rope in the company was stretched down the
cliff, leaving just enough to be used twice around a small tree
which stood on the brink of the precipice; but it was found to
be altogether too short. Then James Biles said: 'Kill one of the
poorest of my steers and make his hide into a rope and attach
it to the one you have.' Three animals were slaughtered before
a rope could be secured long enough to let the wagons down to
a point where they would stand up. There one yoke of oxen was
hitched to a wagon, and by locking all wheels and hitching on
small logs with projecting limbs, it was taken down to a stream
then known as 'Greenwater.' It took the best part of two days to
make this descent. There were thirty-six wagons belonging to the
company, but two of them, with a small quantity of provisions,
were wrecked on this hill. The wagons could have been dispensed
with without much loss. Not so the provisions, scanty as they
were, as the company came to be in sore straits for food before
the White River prairie was reached, probably South Prairie[11]
of today, where food supplies were first obtained, consisting
of potatoes without salt for the first meal. Another trying
experience was the ascent of Mud Mountain in a drenching rain,
with the strength of a dozen yoke of oxen attached to one wagon,
with scarcely anything in it save camp equipment, and taxing the
strength of the teams to the utmost. But all trials came to an
end when the company reached a point six miles from Steilacoom,
about October 17th, and got some good, fat beef and plenty of
potatoes, and even flour, mainly through the kindness of Dr. W.
F. Tolmie. The change from salmon skins was gratifying.

"And now a word about the wagon road. That had been cut through
to Greenwater. There, it seems, according to a statement made
to me a number of years ago by James Longmire, and confirmed by
W. O. Bush, one of the workers, an Indian from the east side
of the mountains, met the road workers, who inquired of him
whether there were any 'Boston men' coming through. He replied,
'Wake'—no. Further inquiry satisfied the road builders that
the Indian was truthful, hence they at once returned to the
settlement, only to be greatly astonished two weeks later to find
a weary, bedraggled, forlorn, hungry and footsore company of
people of both sexes, from the babe in arms—my sister was perhaps
the youngest, eleven months old, when we ceased traveling—to the
man of 55 years, but all rejoicing to think that after trials
indescribable they had at last reached the 'Promised Land.'

"Mrs. James Longmire says that soon after descending the big
hill from the summit, perhaps early the next day, as she was a
few hundred yards in advance of the teams, leading her little
girl, three years and two months old, and carrying her baby boy,
then fifteen months old, that she remembers meeting a man coming
towards the immigrants leading a pack animal, who said to her:
'Good God almighty, woman, where did you come from? Is there any
more? Why, you can never get through this way. You will have to
turn back. There is not a blade of grass for fifty miles.'

"She replied: 'We can't go back; we've got to go forward.'

"Soon he ascended the hill by a long detour and gave supplies to
the immigrants. Mrs. Longmire says she remembers hearing this
man called 'Andy', and is of the opinion that it was Andy Burge.

"When the immigrant party got to a point supposed to be about
six miles from Steilacoom, or possibly near the cabin of John
Lackey, it camped. Vegetables were given them by Lackey, and
also by a man named Mahon. Dr. Tolmie gave a beef. When that was
sent to the camp the doctor gave it in charge of Mrs. Mary Ann
Woolery—'Aunt Pop'—and instructed her to keep it intact until
the two oldest men in the company came in, and that they were
to divide it evenly. Soon a man came with a knife and said he
was going to have some meat. Mrs. Woolery said: 'No, sir.' He
replied: 'I am hungry, and I am going to have some of it.' In
response she said: 'So are the rest of us hungry; but that man
said I was not to allow anyone to touch it until the two oldest
men came into camp, and they would divide it evenly.' He said:
'I can't wait for that.' She said: 'You will have to.' He then
said: 'By what authority?' 'There is my authority,' holding up
her fist—she weighed a hundred pounds then—and she said: 'You
touch that meat and I'll take that oxbow to you,' grabbing hold
of one. The man then subsided. Soon the two oldest men came into
camp. The meat was divided according to Dr. Tolmie's directions,
and, with the vegetables that had been given, by the settlers,
all hands had an old-fashioned boiled supper—the first for many a
day."

I know from experience just what such a supper meant to that camp and how it tasted. God bless that company. I came to know nearly all of them personally, and a bigger hearted set never lived. They earned the right to be called pioneers in the true sense of the word, but a large percentage have gone on to pleasant paths, where the remainder of us are soon to be joined in enduring fellowship.

"In the list following are the names of the Natchess Pass immigrants of 1853. The names followed by other names in parentheses are those of young ladies who subsequently married men bearing the names within the parentheses:

"James Biles,[12] Mrs. Nancy M. Biles,[12] Geo. W. Biles, James D. Biles,[12] Kate Biles (Sargent), Susan B. Biles (Drew), Clark Biles,[12] Margaret Biles,[12] Ephemia Biles (Knapp), Rev. Chas. Byles,[12] Mrs. Sarah W. Byles,[12] David F. Byles,[12] Mary Jane Hill (Byles), Rebecca E. Byles (Goodell),[12] Chas. N. Byles,[12] Sarah I. Byles (Ward), John W. Woodward,[12] Bartholomew C. Baker,[12] Mrs. Fanny Baker,[12] James E. Baker,[12] John W. Baker, Leander H. Baker, Elijah Baker,[12] Mrs. Olive Baker,[12] Joseph N. Baker, Wm. LeRoy Baker, Martha Brooks (Young),[12] Newton West, William R. Downey,[12] Mrs. W. R. Downey,[12] Christopher C. Downey,[12] Geo. W. Downey,[12] James H. Downey,[12] R. W. Downey, John M. Downey, Louise Downey (Guess),[12] Janes Downey (Clark),[12] Susan Downey (Latham),[12] Laura B. Downey (Bartlett), Mason F. Guess,[12] Wilson Guess,[12] Austin E. Young, Henry C. Finch,[12] Varine Davis,[12] James Aiken, John Aiken, Glenn Aiken, Wesley Clinton, J. Wilson Hampton, John Bowers, William M. Kincaid,[12] Mrs. W. M. Kincaid,[12] Susannah Kincaid (Thompson), Joseph C. Kincaid, Laura Kincaid (Meade),[12] James Kincaid, John Kincaid,[12] James Gant, Mrs. James Gant, Harris Gant, Mrs. Harris Gant. All of the foregoing were from Kentucky. Isaac Woolery,[12] Mrs. Isaac Woolery, Robert Lamuel Woolery, James Henderson Woolery, Sarah Jane Woolery (Ward) (born on Little Sunday), Abraham Woolery,[12] Mrs. Abraham Woolery (Aunt Pop), Jacob Francis Woolery,[12] Daniel Henry Woolery, Agnes Woolery (Lamon), Erastus A. Light,[12] Mrs. E. A. Light,[12] Henry Light, George Melville,[12] Mrs. George Melville,[12] Kate Melville (Thompson),[12] Robert Melville,[12] Isaac H. Wright,[12] Mrs. I. H. Wright,[12] Benjamin Franklin Wright,[12] Mrs. B. F. Wright, James Wright, Eliza Wright (Bell), Rebecca Wright (Moore), William Wright, Byrd Wright,[12] Grandfather—Wright, Grandmother—Wright, Jas. Bell, Annis Wright (Downey). The foregoing were from Missouri. Tyrus Himes,[12] Mrs. Tyrus Himes,[12] George H. Himes, Helen L. Himes (Ruddell), Judson W. Himes, Lestina Z. Himes (Eaton),[12] Joel Risdon,[12] Henry Risdon, Chas. R. Fitch,[12] Frederick Burnett,[12] James Longmire,[12] Mrs. James Longmire, Elcaine Longmire, David Longmire, John A. Longmire, Tillathi Longmire (Kandle), Asher Sargent,[12] Mrs. A. Sargent,[12] E. Nelson Sargent, Wilson Sargent,[12] F. M. Sargent,[12] Matilda Sargent (Saylor), Rebecca Sargent (Kellet), Van Ogle, John Lane, Mrs. John Lane, Joseph Day, Elizabeth Whitesel (Lane), Wm. Whitesel, Mrs. Wm. Whitesel, William Henry Whitesel, Nancy Whitesel (Leach), Clark N. Greenman, Daniel E. Lane,[12] Mrs. D. E. Lane,[12] Edward Lane, William Lane, Timothy Lane, Albert Lane, Margaret Whitesel, Alexander Whitesel, Cal Whitesel. The foregoing were from Indiana. Widow Gordon, Mary Frances Gordon, or McCullough, Mrs. Mary Ann McCullough Porter,——McCullough,——Frazier,[12] Mrs. Elizabeth Frazier,[12] Peter Judson,[12] Mrs. Peter Judson,[A] Stephen Judson, John Paul Judson, Gertrude Shoren Judson (Delin), John Neisan.[A] The foregoing were from Illinois. In addition to the above were William H. Mitchell and John Stewart,[13] from States unknown."

This makes a total of 148 of the immigrants who completed the road—that is, all but Melville. He refused to assist in making the road and kept about a half day behind, notwithstanding James Biles asked him to lend a hand.

Accompanying the party of road makers was Quiemuth, a half-brother of Leschi, who acted as guide and led the horse upon which were packed the blankets and provisions of Parker and Allen.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] It was Connell's Prairie. The route has been viewed at the outset through South Prairie, but afterwards it was discovered that a road had previously been opened to White River through Connell's Prairie, and the latter route was adopted and the old road cleared by Allen's party.

[12] Dead.

[13] Dead.