THE ROAD-HUNTERS.
THE ROAD-HUNTERS.
To render their situation still more trying, rain began to fall heavily, which with the cold air of the mountains, soon benumbed their exhausted frames. Fearing that should they go to sleep so cold and famished, they might never be able to rise again, on the fourth or fifth evening they resolved to kindle a fire, if by any means they could do so. Dry and broken wood had been plenty enough, but for the rain, which was drenching everything. Neither matches nor flint had they, however, in any case. The night was setting in black with darkness; the wind swayed the giant firs over head, and then they heard the thunder of a falling monarch of the forest unpleasantly near. Searching among the bushes, and under fallen timber for some dry leaves and sticks, Mr. Rector took a bundle of them to the most sheltered spot he could find, and set himself to work to coax a spark of fire out of two pieces of dry wood which he had splitfor that purpose. It was a long and weary while before success was attained, by vigorous rubbing together of the dry wood, but it was attained at last; and the stiffening limbs of the road-hunters were warmed by a blazing camp-fire.
The following day, the food being now reduced to a crumb for each, the explorers, weak and dejected, toiled on in silence, Mr. Rector always in advance. On chancing to look back at his companion he observed him to be brushing away a tear. "What now, old man?" asked Mr. R. with most unchristian harshness.
"What would you do with me, Rector, should I fall and break a leg, or become in any way disabled?" inquired Mr. Barlow, nervously.
"Do with you?I would eat you!" growled Mr. Rector, stalking on again.
As no more was said for some time, Mr. R.'s conscience rather misgave him that he treated his friend unfeelingly; then he stole a look back at him, and beheld the wan face bathed in tears.
"Come, come, Barlow," said he more kindly, "don't take affairs so much to heart. You will not break a leg, and I should not eat you if you did, for you haven't any flesh on you to eat."
"Nevertheless, Rector, I want you to promise me that in case I should fall and disable myself, so that I cannot get on, you will not leave me here to die alone, but will kill me with your axe instead."
"Nonsense, Barlow; you are weak and nervous, but you are not going to be disabled, nor eaten, nor killed. Keep up man; we shall reach Oregon City yet."
So, onward, but ever more slowly and painfully, toiled again the pioneers, the wonder being that Mr. Barlow's fears were not realized, for the clambering and descending gave him many a tumble, the tumbles becoming more frequent as his strength declined.
Towards evening of this day as they came to the precipitous bank of a mountain stream which was flowing in the direction they wished to go, suddenly there came to their ears a sound of more than celestial melody; the tinkling of bells, lowing of cattle, the voice of men hallooing to the herds. They had struck the cattle trail, which they had first diverged from in the hope of finding a road passable to wagons. In the overwhelming revulsion of feeling which seized them, neither were able for some moments to command their voices to call for assistance. That night they camped with the herdsmen, and supped in such plenty as an immigrant camp afforded.
Such were the sufferings of two individuals, out of a great crowd of sufferers; some afflicted in one way and some in another. That people who endured so much to reach their El Dorado should be the most locally patriotic people in the world, is not singular. Mr. Barlow lived to construct a wagon road over the Cascades for the use of subsequent immigrations.
Early in 1846, Meek resigned his office of marshal of the colony, owing to the difficulty of collecting taxes; for in a thinly inhabited country, where wheat was a legal tender, at sixty cents per bushel, it was rather a burdensome occupation to collect, in so ponderous a currency; and one in which the collector required a granary more than a pocket-book. Besides, Meek had out-grown the marshalship, and aspired to become a legislator at the next June election.
He had always discharged his duty with promptitude and rectitude while sheriff; and to his known courage might be attributed, in many instances, the ready compliance with law which was remarkable in so new and peculiar an organization as that of the Oregon colony. The people had desired not to be taxed, at first; and for a year or more the government was sustained by a fund raised by subscription. When at last it was deemed best to make collections by law, the Canadians objected to taxation to support an American government, while they were still subjects of Great Britain; but ultimately yielded the point, by the advice of Dr. McLaughlin.
But it was not always the Canadians who objected to being taxed, as the following anecdote will show. Dr. McLaughlin was one day seated in his office, in conversation with some of his American friends, when the tall form of the sheriff darkened the doorway.
"I have come to tax you, Doctor," said Meek with hisblandest manner, and with a merry twinkle, half suppressed, in his black eyes.
"To tax me, Mr. Jo. I was not aware—I really was not aware—I believed I had paid my tax, Mr. Jo," stammered the Doctor, somewhat annoyed at the prospect of some fresh demand.
"Thar is an old ox out in my neighborhood, Doctor, and he is said to belong to you. Thar is a tax of twenty-five cents on him."
"I do not understand you, Mr. Jo. I have no cattle out in your neighborhood."
"I couldn't say how that may be, Doctor. All I do know about it, is just this. I went to old G——'s to collect the tax on his stock—and he's got a powerful lot of cattle,—and while we war a countin 'em over, he left out that old ox and said it belonged to you."
"Oh, oh, I see, Mr. Jo: yes, yes, I see! So it was Mr. G——," cried the Doctor, getting very red in the face. "I do remember now, since you bring it to my mind, thatI lent Mr. G—— that steer six years ago! Here are the twenty-five cents, Mr. Jo."
The sheriff took his money, and went away laughing; while the Doctor's American friends looked quite as much annoyed as the Doctor himself, over the meanness of some of their countrymen.
The year of 1846 was one of the most exciting in the political history of Oregon. President Polk had at last given the notice required by the Joint occupation treaty, that the Oregon boundary question must be settled.
Agreeably to the promise which Dr. McLaughlin had received from the British Admiral, H.B.M. Sloop of warModestehad arrived in the Columbia River in the month of October, 1845, and had wintered there. Much as theDoctor had wished for protection from possible outbreaks, he yet felt that the presence of a British man-of-war in the Columbia, and another one in Puget Sound, was offensive to the colonists. He set himself to cover up as carefully as possible the disagreeable features of the British lion, by endeavoring to establish social intercourse between the officers of theModesteand the ladies and gentlemen of the colony, and his endeavors were productive of a partial success.
During the summer, however, the United States SchoonerSharkappeared in the Columbia, thus restoring the balance of power, for the relief of national jealousy. After remaining for some weeks, theSharktook her departure, but was wrecked on the bar at the mouth of the river, according to a prophecy of Meek's, who had a grudge against her commander, Lieut. Howison, for spoiling the sport he was having in company with one of her officers, while Howison was absent at the Cascades.
It appears that Lieut. Schenck was hospitably inclined, and that on receiving a visit from the hero of many bear-fights, who proved to be congenial on the subject of good liquors, he treated both Meek and himself so freely as to render discretion a foreign power to either of them. Varied and brilliant were the exploits performed by these jolly companions during the continuance of the spree; and still more brilliant were those they talked of performing, even the taking of theModeste, which was lying a little way off, in front of Vancouver. Fortunately for the good of all concerned, Schenck contented himself with firing a salute as Meek was going over the side of the ship on leaving. But for this misdemeanor he was put under arrest by Howison, on his return from the Cascades, an indignity which Meek resented for the prisoner, by assuring Lieut. Howison that he would lose his vessel before hegot out of the river. And lose her he did. Schenck was released after the vessel struck, escaping with the other officers and crew by means of small boats. Very few articles were saved from the wreck, but among those few was the stand of colors, which Lieut. Howison subsequently presented to Gov. Abernethy for the colony.
line
There sinks the sun; like cavalier of old,Servant of crafty Spain,He flaunts his banner, barred with blood and gold,Wide o'er the western main;A thousand spear heads glint beyond the treesIn columns bright and long,While kindling fancy hears upon the breezeThe swell of shout and song.And yet not here Spain's gay, adventurous hostDipped sword or planted cross;The treasures guarded by this rock-bound coastCounted them gain nor loss.The blue Columbia, sired by the eternal hillsAnd wedded with the sea,O'er golden sands, tithes from a thousand rills,Boiled in lone majesty—Through deep ravine, through burning, barren plain,Through wild and rocky strait,Through forest dark, and mountain rent in twainToward the sunset gate;While curious eyes, keen with the lust of gold,Caught not the informing gleam,These mighty breakers age on age have rolledTo meet this mighty stream.Age after age these noble hills have kept,The same majestic lines;Age after age the horizon's edge been sweptBy fringe of pointed pines.Summers and Winters circling came and went,Bringing no change of scene;Unresting, and unhasting, and unspent,Dwelt Nature here serene![Pg 324]Till God's own time to plant of Freedom's seed,In this selected soil;Denied forever unto blood and greed,But blest to honest toil.There sinks the sun; Gay cavalier no more!His banners trail the sea,And all his legions shining on the shoreFade into mystery.The swelling tide laps on the shingly beach,Like any starving thing;And hungry breakers, white with wrath, upreach,In a vain clamoring.The shadows fall; just level with mine eyeSweet Hesper stands and shines,And shines beneath an arc of golden sky,Pinked round with pointed pines.A noble scene! all breadth, deep tone, and power,Suggesting glorious themes;Shaming the idler who would fill the hourWith unsubstantial dreams.Be mine the dreams prophetic, shadowing forthThe things that yet shall be,When through this gate the treasures of the NorthFlow outward to the sea.
There sinks the sun; like cavalier of old,Servant of crafty Spain,He flaunts his banner, barred with blood and gold,Wide o'er the western main;A thousand spear heads glint beyond the treesIn columns bright and long,While kindling fancy hears upon the breezeThe swell of shout and song.
And yet not here Spain's gay, adventurous hostDipped sword or planted cross;The treasures guarded by this rock-bound coastCounted them gain nor loss.The blue Columbia, sired by the eternal hillsAnd wedded with the sea,O'er golden sands, tithes from a thousand rills,Boiled in lone majesty—
Through deep ravine, through burning, barren plain,Through wild and rocky strait,Through forest dark, and mountain rent in twainToward the sunset gate;While curious eyes, keen with the lust of gold,Caught not the informing gleam,These mighty breakers age on age have rolledTo meet this mighty stream.
Age after age these noble hills have kept,The same majestic lines;Age after age the horizon's edge been sweptBy fringe of pointed pines.Summers and Winters circling came and went,Bringing no change of scene;Unresting, and unhasting, and unspent,Dwelt Nature here serene![Pg 324]
Till God's own time to plant of Freedom's seed,In this selected soil;Denied forever unto blood and greed,But blest to honest toil.There sinks the sun; Gay cavalier no more!His banners trail the sea,And all his legions shining on the shoreFade into mystery.
The swelling tide laps on the shingly beach,Like any starving thing;And hungry breakers, white with wrath, upreach,In a vain clamoring.The shadows fall; just level with mine eyeSweet Hesper stands and shines,And shines beneath an arc of golden sky,Pinked round with pointed pines.
A noble scene! all breadth, deep tone, and power,Suggesting glorious themes;Shaming the idler who would fill the hourWith unsubstantial dreams.Be mine the dreams prophetic, shadowing forthThe things that yet shall be,When through this gate the treasures of the NorthFlow outward to the sea.
The author of the following, "poem" was not either a dull or an unobservant writer; and we insert his verses as a comical bit of natural history belonging peculiarly to Oregon.
ADVENTURES OF A COLUMBIA SALMON.
What is yon object which attracts the eyeOf the observing traveler, who ascendsColumbia's waters, when the summer skyIn one soft tint, calm nature's clothing blends:As glittering in the sunbeams down it floats'Till some vile vulture on its carcase gloats?'Tis a poor salmon, which a short time past,With thousands of her finny sisters came,By instinct taught, to seek and find at last,The place that gave her birth, there to remain'Till nature's offices had been discharged,And fry from out the ova had emerged.Her Winter spent amongst the sheltered baysOf the salt sea, where numerous fish of prey,With appetite keen, the number of her daysWould soon have put an end to, could but theyHave caught her; but as they could not, she,Spring having come, resolved to quit the sea:And moving with the shoal along the coast, at lengthShe reached the outlet of her native river,There tarried for a little to recruit her strength,So tried of late by cold and stormy weather;Sporting in playful gambols o'er the banks and sands,Chasing the tiny fish frequenting there in bands.[Pg 326]But ah, how little thought this simple fish,The toils and perils she had yet to suffer,The chance she ran of serving as a dishFor hungry white men or for Indian's supper,—Of enemies in which the stream abounded,When lo! she's by a fisher's net surrounded.Partly conscious of her approaching end,She darts with meteoric swiftness to and fro,Striking the frail meshes, within which she's penned,Which bid defiance to her stoutest blow:To smaller compass by degrees the snare is drawn,When with a leap she clears it and is gone.Once more at large with her companions, nowBecome more cautious from her late escape,She keeps in deeper water and thinks howFoolish she was to get in such a scrape;As mounting further up the stream, she viesWith other fish in catching gnats and flies.And as she on her way did thus enjoyLife's fleeting moments, there arose a panicAmongst the stragglers, who in haste deployAround their elder leaders, quick as magic,While she unconscious of the untimely rout,Was by a hungry otter singled out:Vigorous was the chase, on the marked victim shotThrough the clear water, while in close pursuitFollowed her amphibious foe, who scarce had gotNear enough to grasp her, when with turns acute,And leaps and revolutions, she so tried the otter,He gave up the hunt with merely having bit her.Scarce had she recovered from her weakness, whenAn ancient eagle, of the bald-head kind,Winging his dreary way to'rds some lone glen,Where was her nest with four plump eaglets lined,Espied the fish, which he judged quite a treat,And just the morsel for his little ones to eat:And sailing in spiral circles o'er the spot,Where lay his prey, then hovering for a time,To take his wary aim, he stooped and caughtHis booty, which he carried to a lofty pine;Upon whose topmost branches, he first adjustedHis awkward load, ere with his claws he crushed it.[Pg 327]"Ill is the wind that blows no person good"—So said the adage, and as luck would have it,A huge grey eagle out in search of food,Who just had whet his hunger with a rabbit,Attacked the other, and the pair together,In deadly combat fell into the river.Our friend of course made off, when she'd done fallingSome sixty yards, and well indeed she might;For ne'er, perhaps, a fish got such a maulingSince Adam's time, or went up such a heightInto the air, and came down helter-skelter,As did this poor production of a melter.All these, with many other dangers, she survived,Too manifold in this short space to mention;So we'll suppose her to have now arrivedSafe atthe Falls, without much more detentionThan one could look for, where so many liked herCompany, and so many Indians spiked her.And here a mighty barrier stops her way:The tranquil water, finding in its courseItself beset with rising rocks, which layAs though they said, "retire ye to your source,"Bursts with indignant fury from its bondage, nowRushes in foaming torrents to the chasm below.The persevering fish then at the foot arrives,Laboring with redoubled vigor mid the surging tide,And finding, by her strength, she vainly strivesTo overcome the flood, though o'er and o'er she tried;Her tail takes in her mouth, and bending like a bowThat's to full compass drawn, aloft herself doth throw;And spinning in the air, as would a silver wandThat's bended end to end and upwards cast,Headlong she falls amid the showering waters, andGasping for breath, against the rocks is dashed:Again, again she vaults, again she tries,And in one last and feeble effort—dies.
What is yon object which attracts the eyeOf the observing traveler, who ascendsColumbia's waters, when the summer skyIn one soft tint, calm nature's clothing blends:As glittering in the sunbeams down it floats'Till some vile vulture on its carcase gloats?
'Tis a poor salmon, which a short time past,With thousands of her finny sisters came,By instinct taught, to seek and find at last,The place that gave her birth, there to remain'Till nature's offices had been discharged,And fry from out the ova had emerged.
Her Winter spent amongst the sheltered baysOf the salt sea, where numerous fish of prey,With appetite keen, the number of her daysWould soon have put an end to, could but theyHave caught her; but as they could not, she,Spring having come, resolved to quit the sea:
And moving with the shoal along the coast, at lengthShe reached the outlet of her native river,There tarried for a little to recruit her strength,So tried of late by cold and stormy weather;Sporting in playful gambols o'er the banks and sands,Chasing the tiny fish frequenting there in bands.[Pg 326]
But ah, how little thought this simple fish,The toils and perils she had yet to suffer,The chance she ran of serving as a dishFor hungry white men or for Indian's supper,—Of enemies in which the stream abounded,When lo! she's by a fisher's net surrounded.
Partly conscious of her approaching end,She darts with meteoric swiftness to and fro,Striking the frail meshes, within which she's penned,Which bid defiance to her stoutest blow:To smaller compass by degrees the snare is drawn,When with a leap she clears it and is gone.
Once more at large with her companions, nowBecome more cautious from her late escape,She keeps in deeper water and thinks howFoolish she was to get in such a scrape;As mounting further up the stream, she viesWith other fish in catching gnats and flies.
And as she on her way did thus enjoyLife's fleeting moments, there arose a panicAmongst the stragglers, who in haste deployAround their elder leaders, quick as magic,While she unconscious of the untimely rout,Was by a hungry otter singled out:
Vigorous was the chase, on the marked victim shotThrough the clear water, while in close pursuitFollowed her amphibious foe, who scarce had gotNear enough to grasp her, when with turns acute,And leaps and revolutions, she so tried the otter,He gave up the hunt with merely having bit her.
Scarce had she recovered from her weakness, whenAn ancient eagle, of the bald-head kind,Winging his dreary way to'rds some lone glen,Where was her nest with four plump eaglets lined,Espied the fish, which he judged quite a treat,And just the morsel for his little ones to eat:
And sailing in spiral circles o'er the spot,Where lay his prey, then hovering for a time,To take his wary aim, he stooped and caughtHis booty, which he carried to a lofty pine;Upon whose topmost branches, he first adjustedHis awkward load, ere with his claws he crushed it.[Pg 327]
"Ill is the wind that blows no person good"—So said the adage, and as luck would have it,A huge grey eagle out in search of food,Who just had whet his hunger with a rabbit,Attacked the other, and the pair together,In deadly combat fell into the river.
Our friend of course made off, when she'd done fallingSome sixty yards, and well indeed she might;For ne'er, perhaps, a fish got such a maulingSince Adam's time, or went up such a heightInto the air, and came down helter-skelter,As did this poor production of a melter.
All these, with many other dangers, she survived,Too manifold in this short space to mention;So we'll suppose her to have now arrivedSafe atthe Falls, without much more detentionThan one could look for, where so many liked herCompany, and so many Indians spiked her.
And here a mighty barrier stops her way:The tranquil water, finding in its courseItself beset with rising rocks, which layAs though they said, "retire ye to your source,"Bursts with indignant fury from its bondage, nowRushes in foaming torrents to the chasm below.
The persevering fish then at the foot arrives,Laboring with redoubled vigor mid the surging tide,And finding, by her strength, she vainly strivesTo overcome the flood, though o'er and o'er she tried;Her tail takes in her mouth, and bending like a bowThat's to full compass drawn, aloft herself doth throw;
And spinning in the air, as would a silver wandThat's bended end to end and upwards cast,Headlong she falls amid the showering waters, andGasping for breath, against the rocks is dashed:Again, again she vaults, again she tries,And in one last and feeble effort—dies.
There was, in Oregon City, a literary society called the "Falls Association," some of whose effusions were occasionally sent to theSpectator, and this may have been oneof them. At all events, it is plain that with balls, theatres, literary societies, and politics, the colony was not afflicted with dullness, in the winter of 1846.
But the history of the immigration this year, afforded, perhaps, more material for talk than any one other subject. The condition in which the immigrants arrived was one of great distress. A new road into the valley had been that season explored, at great labor and expense, by a company of gentlemen who had in view the aim to lessen the perils usually encountered in descending the Columbia. They believed that a better pass might be discovered through the Cascade range to the south, than that which had been found around the base of Mount Hood, and one which should bring the immigrants in at the upper end of the valley, thus saving them considerable travel and loss of time at a season of the year when the weather was apt to be unsettled.
With this design, a party had set out to explore the Cascades to the south, quite early in the spring; but failing in their undertaking, had returned. Another company was then immediately formed, headed by a prominent member of society and the legislature. This company followed the old Hudson's Bay Company's trail, crossing all those ranges of mountains perpendicular to the coast, which form a triple wall between Oregon and California, until they came out into the valley of the Humboldt, whence they proceeded along a nearly level, but chiefly barren country to Fort Hall, on the Snake River.
The route was found to be practicable, although there was a scarcity of grass and water along a portion of it; but as the explorers had with great difficulty found out and marked all the best camping grounds, and encountered first for themselves all the dangers of a hitherto unexplored region, most of which they believed they hadovercome, they felt no hesitation in recommending the new road to the emigrants whom they met at Fort Hall.
Being aware of the hardships which the immigrants of the previous years had undergone on the Snake River plains, at the crossing of Snake River, the John Day, and Des Chutes Rivers, and the passage of the Columbia, the travelers gladly accepted the tidings of a safer route to the Wallamet. A portion of the immigration had already gone on by the road to the Dalles; the remainder turned off by the southern route.
Of those who took the new route, a part were destined for California. All, however, after passing through the sage deserts, committed the error of stopping to recruit their cattle and horses in the fresh green valleys among the foot-hills of the mountains. It did not occur to them that they were wasting precious time in this way; but to this indulgence was owing an incredible amount of suffering. The California-bound travelers encountered the season of snow on the Sierras, and such horrors are recorded of their sufferings as it is seldom the task of ears to hear or pen to record. Snow-bound, without food, those who died of starvation were consumed by the living; even children were eaten by their once fond parents, with an indifference horrible to think on: so does the mind become degraded by great physical suffering.
The Oregon immigrants had not to cross the lofty Sierras; but they still found mountains before them which, in the dry season, would have been formidable enough. Instead, however, of the dry weather continuing, very heavy rains set in. The streams became swollen, the mountain sides heavy and slippery with the wet earth. Where the road led through canyons, men and women were sometimes forced to stem a torrent, breast high, and cold enough to chill the life in their veins. The cattle gaveout, the wagons broke down, provisions became exhausted, and a few persons perished, while all were in the direst straits.
The first who got through into the valley sent relief to those behind; but it was weeks before the last of the worn, weary, and now impoverished travelers escaped from the horrors of the mountains in which they were so hopelessly entangled, and where most of their worldly goods were left to rot.
The Oregon legislature met as usual, to hold its winter session, though the people hoped and expected it would be for the last time under the Provisional Government. There were only two "mountain-men" in the House, at this session—Meek and Newell.
In the suspense under which they for the present remained, there was nothing to do but to go on in the path of duty as they had heretofore done, keeping up their present form of government until it was supplanted by a better one. So passed the summer until the return of the "Glorious Fourth," which, being the first national anniversary occurring since the news of the treaty had reached the colony, was celebrated with proper enthusiasm.
It chanced that an American ship, theBrutus, Capt. Adams, from Boston, was lying in the Wallamet, and that a general invitation had been given to the celebrationists to visit the ship during the day. A party of fifty or sixty, including Meek and some of his mountain associates, had made their calculations to go on board at the same time, and were in fact already alongside in boats, when Captain Adams singled out a boat load of people belonging to the mission clique, and inviting them to come on board, ordered all the others off.
This was an insult too great to be borne by mountain-men, who resented it not only for themselves, but for the people's party of Americans to which they naturally belonged. Their blood was up, and without stopping to deliberate, Meek and Newell hurried off to fetch the twelve-pounder that had a few hours before served to thunder forth the rejoicings of a free people, but with which they now purposed to proclaim their indignation as freeman heinously insulted. The little twelve-pound cannon was loaded with rock, and got into range with the offending ship, and there is little doubt that Capt. Adams would have suffered loss at the hands of the incensed multitude, but for the timely interference of Dr. McLaughlin. On being informed of the warlike intentions of Meek and his associates, the good Doctor came running to the rescue, his white hair flowing back from his noble face with the hurry of his movements.
"Oh, oh, Mr. Joe, Mr. Joe, you must not do this! indeed, you must not do this foolish thing! Come now; come away. You will injure your country, Mr. Joe. How can you expect that ships will come here, if they are fired on? Come away, come away!"
And Meek, ever full of waggishness, even in his wrath, replied:
"Doctor, it is not that I love the Brutus less, but my dignity more."
"Oh, Shakespeare, Mr. Joe! But come with me; come with me."
And so the good Doctor, half in authority, half in kindness, persuaded the resentful colonists to pass by the favoritism of the Boston captain.
Meek was reëlected to the legislature this summer, and swam out to a vessel lying down at the mouth of the Wallamet, to get liquor to treat his constituents; from which circumstance it may be inferred that while Oregon was remarkable for temperance, there were occasions onwhich conviviality was deemed justifiable by a portion of her people.
Thus passed the summer. The autumn brought news of a large emigrationen routefor the new territory; but it brought no news of good import from Congress. On the contrary the bill providing for a territorial government for Oregon had failed, because the Organic Laws of that territory excluded slavery forever from the country. The history of its failure is a part and parcel of the record of the long hard struggle of the south to extend slavery into the United States' territories.
Justly dissatisfied, but not inconsolable, the colony, now that hope was extinguished for another season, returned to its own affairs. The immigration, which had arrived early this year, amounted to between four and five thousand. An unfortunate affray between the immigrants and the Indians at the Dalles, had frightened away from that station the Rev. Father Waller; and Dr. Whitman of the Waiilatpu mission had purchased the station for the Presbyterian mission, and placed a nephew of his in charge. Although, true to their original bad character, the Dalles Indians had frequently committed theft upon the passing emigration, this was the first difficulty resulting in loss of life, which had taken place. This quarrel arose out of some thefts committed by the Indians, and the unwise advice of Mr. Waller, in telling the immigrants to retaliate by taking some of the Indian horses. An Indian can see the justice of taking toll from every traveler passing through his country; but he cannot see the justice of being robbed in return; and Mr. Waller had been long enough among them to have known this.
Finding that it must continue yet a little longer to look after its own government and welfare, the colony had settled back into its wonted pursuits. The legislaturehad convened for its winter session, and had hardly elected its officers and read the usual message of the Governor, before there came another, which fell upon their ears like a thunderbolt. Gov. Abernethy had sent in the following letter, written at Vancouver the day before:
Fort Vancouver, Dec. 7, 1847.George Abernethy, Esq.;Sir:—Having received intelligence, last night, by special express from Walla-Walla, of the destruction of the missionary settlement at Waiilatpu, by the Cayuse Indians of that place, we hasten to communicate the particulars of that dreadful event, one of the most atrocious which darkens the annals of Indian crime.Our lamented friend, Dr. Whitman, his amiable and accomplished lady, with nine other persons, have fallen victims to the fury of these remorseless savages, who appear to have been instigated to this appalling crime by a horrible suspicion which had taken possession of their superstitious minds, in consequence of the number of deaths from dysentery and measles, that Dr. Whitman was silently working the destruction of their tribe by administering poisonous drugs, under the semblance of salutary medicines.With a goodness of heart and benevolence truly his own, Dr. Whitman had been laboring incessantly since the appearance of the measles and dysentery among his Indian converts, to relieve their sufferings; and such has been the reward of his generous labors.A copy of Mr. McBean's letter, herewith transmitted, will give you all the particulars known to us of this indescribably painful event.Mr. Ogden, with a strong party, will leave this place as soon as possible for Walla-Walla, to endeavor to prevent further evil; and we beg to suggest to you the propriety of taking instant measures for the protection of the Rev. Mr. Spalding, who, for the sake of his family, ought to abandon the Clear-water mission without delay, and retire to a place of safety, as he cannot remain at that isolated station without imminent risk, in the present excited and irritable State of the Indian population.I have the honor to be, sir, your most obedient servant,JAMES DOUGLAS.
Fort Vancouver, Dec. 7, 1847.
George Abernethy, Esq.;
Sir:—Having received intelligence, last night, by special express from Walla-Walla, of the destruction of the missionary settlement at Waiilatpu, by the Cayuse Indians of that place, we hasten to communicate the particulars of that dreadful event, one of the most atrocious which darkens the annals of Indian crime.
Our lamented friend, Dr. Whitman, his amiable and accomplished lady, with nine other persons, have fallen victims to the fury of these remorseless savages, who appear to have been instigated to this appalling crime by a horrible suspicion which had taken possession of their superstitious minds, in consequence of the number of deaths from dysentery and measles, that Dr. Whitman was silently working the destruction of their tribe by administering poisonous drugs, under the semblance of salutary medicines.
With a goodness of heart and benevolence truly his own, Dr. Whitman had been laboring incessantly since the appearance of the measles and dysentery among his Indian converts, to relieve their sufferings; and such has been the reward of his generous labors.
A copy of Mr. McBean's letter, herewith transmitted, will give you all the particulars known to us of this indescribably painful event.
Mr. Ogden, with a strong party, will leave this place as soon as possible for Walla-Walla, to endeavor to prevent further evil; and we beg to suggest to you the propriety of taking instant measures for the protection of the Rev. Mr. Spalding, who, for the sake of his family, ought to abandon the Clear-water mission without delay, and retire to a place of safety, as he cannot remain at that isolated station without imminent risk, in the present excited and irritable State of the Indian population.
I have the honor to be, sir, your most obedient servant,
JAMES DOUGLAS.
1842-7. Doubtless the reader remembers the disquiet felt and expressed by the Indians in the upper country in the year 1842. For the time they had been quieted by presents, by the advice of the Hudson's Bay Company, and by the Agent's promise that in good time the United States would send them blankets, guns, ammunition, food farming implements, and teachers to show them how to live like the whites.
In the meantime, five years having passed, these promises had not been kept. Five times a large number of whites, with their children, their cattle, and wagons, had passed through their country, and gone down into the Wallamet Valley to settle. Now they had learned that the United States claimed the Wallamet valley; yet they had never heard that the Indians of that country had received any pay for it.
They had accepted the religion of the whites believing it would do them good; but now they were doubtful. Had they not accepted laws from the United States agent, and had not their people been punished for acts which their ancestors and themselves had always before committed at will? None of these innovations seemed to do them any good: they were disappointed. But the whites, or Bostons, (meaning the Americans) were coming moreand more every year, so that by-and-by there would be all Bostons and no Indians.
Once they had trusted in the words of the Americans; but now they knew how worthless were their promises. The Americans had done them much harm. Years before had not one of the missionaries suffered several of their people, and the son of one of their chiefs, to be slain in his company, yet himself escaped? Had not the son of another chief, who had gone to California to buy cattle, been killed by a party of Americans, for no fault of his own? Their chief's son was killed, the cattle robbed from his party, after having been paid for; and his friends obliged to return poor and in grief.
To be sure, Dr. White had given them some drafts to be used in obtaining cattle from the immigration, as a compensation for their losses in California; but they could not make them available; and those who wanted cattle had to go down to the Wallamet for them. In short, could the Indians have thought of an American epithet to apply to Americans, it would have been that expressive wordhumbug. What they felt and what they thought, was, that they had been cheated. They feared greater frauds in the future, and they were secretly resolved not to submit to them.
So far as regarded the missionaries, Dr. Whitman and his associates, they were divided; yet as so many looked on the Doctor as an agent in promoting the settlement of the country with whites, it was thought best to drive him from the country, together with all the missionaries. Several years before Dr. Whitman had known that the Indians were displeased with his settlement among them. They had told him of it: they had treated him with violence; they had attempted to outrage his wife; had burned his property; and had more recently several times warned him to leave their country, or they should kill him.
Not that all were angry at him alike, or that any were personally very ill-disposed towards him. Everything that a man could do to instruct and elevate these savage people, he had done, to the best of his ability, together with his wife and assistants. But he had not been able, or perhaps had not attempted, to conceal the fact, that he looked upon the country as belonging to his people, rather than to the natives, and it was this fact which was at the bottom of their "bad hearts" toward the Doctor. So often had warnings been given which were disregarded by Dr. Whitman, that his friends, both at Vancouver and in the settlements, had long felt great uneasiness, and often besought him to remove to the Wallamet valley.
But although Dr. Whitman sometimes was half persuaded to give up the mission upon the representations of others, he could not quite bring himself to do so. So far as the good conduct of the Indians was concerned, they had never behaved better than for the last two years. There had been less violence, less open outrage, than formerly; and their civilization seemed to be progressing; while some few were apparently hopeful converts. Yet there was ever a whisper in the air—"Dr. Whitman must die."
The mission at Lapwai was peculiarly successful. Mrs. Spalding, more than any other of the missionaries, had been able to adapt herself to the Indian character, and to gain their confidence. Besides, the Nez Perces were a better nation than the Cayuses;—more easily controlled by a good counsel; and it seemed like doing a wrong to abandon the work so long as any good was likely to result from it. There were other reasons too, why the missions could not be abandoned in haste, one of which was the difficulty of disposing of the property. This might havebeen done perhaps, to the Catholics, who were establishing missions throughout the upper country; but Dr. Whitman would never have been so false to his own doctrines, as to leave the field of his labors to the Romish Church.
Yet the division of sentiment among the Indians with regard to religion, since the Catholic missionaries had come among them, increased the danger of a revolt: for in the Indian country neither two rival trading companies, nor two rival religions can long prosper side by side. The savage cannot understand the origin of so many religions. He either repudiates all, or he takes that which addresses itself to his understanding through the senses. In the latter respect, the forms of Catholicism, as adapted to the savage understanding, made that religion a dangerous rival to intellectual and idealistic Presbyterianism. But the more dangerous the rival, the greater the firmness with which Dr. Whitman would cling to his duty.
There were so many causes at work to produce a revolution among the Indians, that it would be unfair to name any one asthecause. The last and immediate provocation was a season of severe sickness among them. The disease was measles, and was brought in the train of the immigration.
This fact alone was enough to provoke the worst passions of the savage. The immigration in itself was a sufficient offense; the introduction through them of a pestilence, a still weightier one. It did not signify that Dr. Whitman had exerted himself night and day to give them relief. Their peculiar notions about a medicine-man made it the Doctor's duty to cure the sick; or made it the duty of the relatives of the dead and dying to avenge their deaths.
Yet in spite of all and every provocation, perhaps the fatal tragedy might have been postponed, had it not beenfor the evil influence of one Jo Lewis, a half-breed, who had accompanied the emigration from the vicinity of Fort Hall. This Jo Lewis, with a large party of emigrants, had stopped to winter at the mission, much against Dr. Whitman's wishes; for he feared not having food enough for so many persons. Finding that he could not prevent them, he took some of the men into his employ, and among others the stranger half-breed.
This man was much about the house, and affected to relate to the Indians conversations which he heard between Dr. and Mrs. Whitman, and Mr. Spalding, who with his little daughter, was visiting at Waiilatpu. These conversations related to poisoning the Indians, in order to get them all out of the way, so that the white men could enjoy their country unmolested. Yet this devil incarnate did not convince his hearers at once of the truth of his statements; and it was resolved in the tribe to make a test of Dr. Whitman's medicine. Three persons were selected to experiment upon; two of them already sick, and the third quite well. Whether it was that the medicine was administered in too large quantities, or whether an unhappy chance so ordered it, all those three persons died. Surely it is not singular that in the savage mind this circumstance should have been deemed decisive. It was then that the decree went forth that not only the Doctor and Mrs. Whitman, but all the Americans at the mission must die.
On the 22d of November, Mr. Spalding arrived at Waiilatpu, from his mission, one hundred and twenty miles distant, with his daughter, a child of ten years, bringing with him also several horse-loads of grain, to help feed the emigrants wintering there. He found the Indians suffering very much, dying one, two, three, and sometimes five in a day. Several of the emigrant families,also, were sick with measles and the dysentery, which followed the disease. A child of one of them died the day following Mr. Spalding's arrival.
Dr. Whitman's family consisted of himself and wife, a young man named Rodgers, who was employed as a teacher, and also studying for the ministry, two young people, a brother and sister, named Bulee, seven orphaned children of one family, whose parents had died on the road to Oregon in a previous year, named Sager, Helen Mar, the daughter of Joe Meek, another little half-breed girl, daughter of Bridger the fur-trader, a half-breed Spanish boy whom the Doctor had brought up from infancy, and two sons of a Mr. Manson, of the Hudson's Bay Company.
Besides these, there were half-a-dozen other families at the mission, and at the saw-mill, twenty miles distant, five families more—in all, forty-six persons at Waiilatpu, and fifteen at the mill, who were among those who suffered by the attack. But there were also about the mission, three others, Jo Lewis, Nicholas Finlay, and Joseph Stanfield, who probably knew what was about to take place, and may, therefore be reckoned as among the conspirators.
While Mr. Spalding was at Waiilatpu, a message came from two Walla-Walla chiefs, living on the Umatilla River, to Dr. Whitman, desiring him to visit the sick in their villages, and the two friends set out together to attend to the call, on the evening of the 27th of November. Says Mr. Spalding, referring to that time: "The night was dark, and the wind and rain beat furiously upon us. But our interview was sweet. We little thought it was to be our last. With feelings of the deepest emotion we called to mind the fact, that eleven years before, we crossed this trail before arriving at Walla-Walla, the end of our seven months' journey from New York. We called to mindthe high hopes and thrilling interests which had been awakened during the year that followed—of our successful labors and the constant devotedness of the Indians to improvement. True, we remembered the months of deep solicitude we had, occasioned by the increasing menacing demands of the Indians for pay for their wood, their water, their air, their lands. But much of this had passed away, and the Cayuses were in a far more encouraging condition than ever before." Mr. Spalding further relates that himself and Dr. Whitman also conversed on the danger which threatened them from the Catholic influence. "We felt," he says, "that the present sickness afforded them a favorable opportunity to excite the Indians to drive us from the country, and all the movements about us seemed to indicate that this would soon be attempted, if not executed." Such was the suspicion in the minds of the Protestants. Let us hope that it was not so well founded as they believed.
The two friends arrived late at the lodge ofStickas, a chief, and laid down before a blazing fire to dry their drenched clothing. In the morning a good breakfast was prepared for them, consisting of beef, vegetables, and bread—all of which showed the improvement of the Indians in the art of living. The day, being Sunday, was observed with as much decorum as in a white man's house. After breakfast, Dr. Whitman crossed the river to visit the chiefs who had sent for him, namely,Tan-i-tan,Five Crows, andYam-ha-wa-lis, returning about four o'clock in the afternoon, saying he had taken tea with the Catholic bishop and two priests, at their house, which belonged toTan-i-tan, and that they had promised to visit him in a short time. He then departed for the mission, feeling uneasy about the sick ones at home.
Mr. Spalding remained with the intention of visitingthe sick and offering consolation to the dying. But he soon discovered that there was a weighty and uncomfortable secret on the mind of his entertainer,Stickas. After much questioning,Stickasadmitted that the thought which troubled him was that the Americans had been "decreed against" by his people; more he could not be induced to reveal. Anxious, yet not seriously alarmed,—for these warnings had been given before many times,—he retired to his couch of skins, on the evening of the 29th, being Monday—not to sleep, however; for on either side of him an Indian woman sat down to chant the death-song—that frightful lament which announces danger and death. On being questioned they would reveal nothing.
On the following morning, Mr. Spalding could no longer remain in uncertainty, but set out for Waiilatpu. As he mounted his horse to depart, an Indian woman placed her hand on the neck of his horse to arrest him, and pretending to be arranging his head-gear, said in a low voice to the rider, "Beware of the Cayuses at the mission." Now more than ever disturbed by this intimation that it was the mission which was threatened, he hurried forward, fearing for his daughter and his friends. He proceeded without meeting any one until within sight of the lovely Walla-Walla valley, almost in sight of the mission itself, when suddenly, at a wooded spot where the trail passes through a little hollow, he beheld two horsemen advancing, whom he watched with a fluttering heart, longing for, and yet dreading, the news which the very air seemed whispering.
The two horsemen proved to be the Catholic Vicar General, Brouillet, who, with a party of priests and nuns had arrived in the country only a few months previous, and his half-breed interpreter, both of whom were knownto Mr. Spalding. They each drew rein as they approached, Mr. Spalding immediately inquiring "what news?"
"There are very many sick at the Whitman station," answered Brouillet, with evident embarrassment.
"How are Doctor and Mrs. Whitman?" asked Spalding anxiously.
"The Doctor is ill—is dead," added the priest reluctantly.
"And Mrs. Whitman?" gasped Spalding.
"Is dead also. The Indians have killed them."
"My daughter?" murmured the agonized questioner.
"Is safe, with the other prisoners," answered Brouillet.
"And then," says Spalding in speaking of that moment of infinite horror, when in his imagination a picture of the massacre, of the anguish of his child, the suffering of the prisoners, of the probable destruction of his own family and mission, and his surely impending fate, all rose up before him—"I felt the world all blotted out at once, and sat on my horse as rigid as a stone, not knowing or feeling anything."
While this conversation had been going on the half-breed interpreter had kept a sinister watch over the communication, and his actions had so suspicious a look that the priest ordered him to ride on ahead. When he had obeyed, Brouillet gave some rapid instructions to Spalding; not to go near the mission, where he could do no good, but would be certainly murdered; but to fly, to hide himself until the excitement was over. The men at the mission were probably all killed; the women and children would be spared; nothing could be done at present but to try to save his own life, which the Indians were resolved to take.
The conversation was hurried, for there was no time to lose. Spalding gave his pack-horse to Brouillet, to avoidbeing encumbered by it; and taking some provisions which the priest offered, struck off into the woods there to hide until dark. Nearly a week from this night he arrived at the Lapwai mission, starved, torn, with bleeding feet as well as broken heart. Obliged to secrete himself by day, his horse had escaped from him, leaving him to perform his night journeys on foot over the sharp rocks and prickly cactus plants, until not only his shoes had been worn out, but his feet had become cruelly lacerated. The constant fear which had preyed upon his heart of finding his family murdered, had produced fearful havoc in the life-forces; and although Mr. Spalding had the happiness of finding that the Nez Perces had been true to Mrs. Spalding, defending her from destruction, yet so great had been the first shock, and so long continued the strain, that his nervous system remained a wreck ever afterward.