The Village of Wish-ram.--Roguery of the Inhabitants.--Their
Habitations.--Tidings of Astoria.--Of the Tonquin Massacre.
--Thieves About the Camp.--A Band of Braggarts--Embarkation.--
Arrival at Astoria.--A Joyful Reception.--Old Comrade.--
Adventures of Reed, M’Lellan, and M’Kenzie Among the Snake
River Mountains.--Rejoicing at Astoria.
OF the village of Wish-ram, the aborigines’ fishing mart of the
Columbia, we have given some account in an early chapter of this work.
The inhabitants held a traffic in the productions of the fisheries of
the falls, and their village was the trading resort of the tribes
from the coast and from the mountains. Mr. Hunt found the inhabitants
shrewder and more intelligent than any Indians he had met with. Trade
had sharpened their wits, though it had not improved their honesty;
for they were a community of arrant rogues and freebooters. Their
habitations comported with their circumstances, and were superior to any
the travellers had yet seen west of the Rocky Mountains. In general, the
dwellings of the savages on the Pacific side of that great barrier were
mere tents and cabins of mats, or skins, or straw, the country being
destitute of timber. In Wish-ram, on the contrary, the houses were built
of wood, with long sloping roofs. The floor was sunk about six feet
below the surface of the ground, with a low door at the gable end,
extremely narrow, and partly sunk. Through this it was necessary to
crawl and then to descend a short ladder. This inconvenient entrance was
probably for the purpose of defense; there were loop-holes also under
the eaves, apparently for the discharge of arrows. The houses were
large, generally containing two or three families. Immediately within
the door were sleeping places, ranged along the walls, like berths in
a ship; and furnished with pallets of matting. These extended along one
half of the building; the remaining half was appropriated to the storing
of dried fish.
The trading operations of the inhabitants of Wish-ram had given them
a wider scope of information, and rendered their village a kind of
headquarters of intelligence. Mr. Hunt was able, therefore, to collect
more distinct tidings concerning the settlement of Astoria and its
affairs. One of the inhabitants had been at the trading post established
by David Stuart on the Oakinagan, and had picked up a few words of
English there. From him, Mr. Hunt gleaned various particulars about that
establishment, as well as about the general concerns of the enterprise.
Others repeated the name of Mr. M’Kay, the partner who perished in
the massacre on board of the Tonquin, and gave some account of that
melancholy affair. They said Mr. M’Kay was a chief among the white men,
and had built a great house at the mouth of the river, but had left
it and sailed away in a large ship to the northward where he had
been attacked by bad Indians in canoes. Mr. Hunt was startled by this
intelligence, and made further inquiries. They informed him that the
Indians had lashed their canoes to the ship, and fought until they
killed him and all his people. This is another instance of the clearness
with which intelligence is transmitted from mouth to mouth among the
Indian tribes. These tidings, though but partially credited by Mr. Hunt,
filled his mind with anxious forebodings. He now endeavored to procure
canoes, in which to descend the Columbia, but none suitable for
the purpose were to be obtained above the Narrows; he continued on,
therefore, the distance of twelve miles, and encamped on the bank of
the river. The camp was soon surrounded by loitering savages, who went
prowling about seeking what they might pilfer. Being baffled by the
vigilance of the guard, they endeavored to compass their ends by
other means. Towards evening, a number of warriors entered the camp in
ruffling style; painted and dressed out as if for battle, and armed with
lances, bows and arrows, and scalping knives. They informed Mr. Hunt
that a party of thirty or forty braves were coming up from a village
below to attack the camp and carry off the horses, but that they were
determined to stay with him and defend him. Mr. Hunt received them with
great coldness, and, when they had finished their story, gave them
a pipe to smoke. He then called up all hands, stationed sentinels in
different quarters, but told them to keep as vigilant an eye within the
camp as without.
The warriors were evidently baffled by these precautions, and, having
smoked their pipe, and vapored off their valor, took their departure.
The farce, however, did not end here. After a little while the warriors
returned, ushering in another savage, still more heroically arrayed.
This they announced as the chief of the belligerent village, but as a
great pacificator. His people had been furiously bent upon the attack,
and would have doubtless carried it into effect, but this gallant chief
had stood forth as the friend of white men, and had dispersed the throng
by his own authority and prowess. Having vaunted this signal piece of
service, there was a significant pause; all evidently expecting some
adequate reward. Mr. Hunt again produced the pipe, smoked with the
chieftain and his worthy compeers; but made no further demonstrations
of gratitude. They remained about the camp all night, but at daylight
returned, baffled and crestfallen, to their homes, with nothing but
smoke for their pains.
Mr. Hunt now endeavored to procure canoes, of which he saw several about
the neighborhood, extremely well made, with elevated stems and sterns,
some of them capable of carrying three thousand pounds weight. He found
it extremely difficult, however, to deal with these slippery people,
who seemed much more inclined to pilfer. Notwithstanding a strict guard
maintained round the camp, various implements were stolen, and
several horses carried off. Among the latter, we have to include the
long-cherished steed of Pierre Dorion. From some wilful caprice,
that worthy pitched his tent at some distance from the main body, and
tethered his invaluable steed beside it, from whence it was abstracted
in the night, to the infinite chagrin and mortification of the hybrid
interpreter.
Having, after several days’ negotiation, procured the requisite number
of canoes, Mr. Hunt would gladly have left this thievish neighborhood,
but was detained until the 5th of February by violent head winds,
accompanied by snow and rain. Even after he was enabled to get under
way, he had still to struggle against contrary winds and tempestuous
weather. The current of the river, however, was in his favor; having
made a portage at the grand rapid, the canoes met with no further
obstruction, and, on the afternoon of the 15th of February, swept round
an intervening cape, and came in sight of the infant settlement of
Astoria. After eleven months wandering in the wilderness, a great part
of the time over trackless wastes, where the sight of a savage wigwam
was a rarity, we may imagine the delight of the poor weatherbeaten
travellers, at beholding the embryo establishment, with its magazines,
habitations, and picketed bulwarks, seated on a high point of land,
dominating a beautiful little bay, in which was a trim-built shallop
riding quietly at anchor. A shout of joy burst from each canoe at the
long-wished-for sight. They urged their canoes across the bay, and
pulled with eagerness for shore, where all hands poured down from the
settlement to receive and welcome them. Among the first to greet them
on their landing, were some of their old comrades and fellow-sufferers,
who, under the conduct of Reed, M’Lellan, and M’Kenzie, had parted
from them at the Caldron Linn. These had reached Astoria nearly a month
previously, and, judging from their own narrow escape from starvation,
had given up Mr. Hunt and his followers as lost. Their greeting was
the more warm and cordial. As to the Canadian voyageurs, their mutual
felicitations, as usual, were loud and vociferous, and it was almost
ludicrous to behold these ancient “comrades” and “confreres,” hugging
and kissing each other on the river bank.
When the first greetings were over, the different bands interchanged
accounts of their several wanderings, after separating at Snake River;
we shall briefly notice a few of the leading particulars. It will
be recollected by the reader, that a small exploring detachment had
proceeded down the river, under the conduct of Mr. John Reed, a clerk of
the company; that another had set off under M’Lellan, and a third in a
different direction, under M’Kenzie. After wandering for several days
without meeting with Indians, or obtaining any supplies, they came
together fortuitously among the Snake River mountains, some distance
below that disastrous pass or strait which had received the appellation
of the Devil’s Scuttle Hole.
When thus united, their party consisted of M’Kenzie, M’Lellan, Reed, and
eight men, chiefly Canadians. Being all in the same predicament, without
horses, provisions, or information of any kind, they all agreed that it
would be worse than useless to return to Mr. Hunt and encumber him
with so many starving men, and that their only course was to extricate
themselves as soon as possible from this land of famine and misery and
make the best of their way for the Columbia. They accordingly continued
to follow the downward course of Snake River; clambering rocks and
mountains, and defying all the difficulties and dangers of that rugged
defile, which subsequently, when the snows had fallen, was found
impassable by Messrs. Hunt and Crooks.
Though constantly near to the borders of the river, and for a great
part of the time within sight of its current, one of their greatest
sufferings was thirst. The river had worn its way in a deep channel
through rocky mountains, destitute of brooks or springs. Its banks
were so high and precipitous, that there was rarely any place where
the travellers could get down to drink of its waters. Frequently they
suffered for miles the torments of Tantalus; water continually within
sight, yet fevered with the most parching thirst. Here and there they
met with rainwater collected in the hollows of the rocks, but more than
once they were reduced to the utmost extremity; and some of the men had
recourse to the last expedient to avoid perishing.
Their sufferings from hunger were equally severe. They could meet with
no game, and subsisted for a time on strips of beaver skin, broiled on
the coals. These were doled out in scanty allowances, barely sufficient
to keep up existence, and at length failed them altogether. Still they
crept feebly on, scarce dragging one limb after another, until a severe
snow-storm brought them to a pause. To struggle against it, in their
exhausted condition, was impossible, so cowering under an impending
rock at the foot of a steep mountain, they prepared themselves for that
wretched fate which seemed inevitable.
At this critical juncture, when famine stared them in the face, M’Lellan
casting up his eyes, beheld an ahsahta, or bighorn, sheltering itself
under a shelving rock on the side of the hill above them. Being in a
more active plight than any of his comrades, and an excellent marksman,
he set off to get within shot of the animal. His companions watched his
movements with breathless anxiety, for their lives depended upon his
success. He made a cautious circuit; scrambled up the hill with the
utmost silence, and at length arrived, unperceived, within a proper
distance. Here leveling his rifle he took so sure an aim, that the
bighorn fell dead on the spot; a fortunate circumstance, for, to pursue
it, if merely wounded, would have been impossible in his emaciated
state. The declivity of the hill enabled him to roll the carcass down
to his companions, who were too feeble to climb the rocks. They fell to
work to cut it up; yet exerted a remarkable self-denial for men in their
starving condition, for they contented themselves for the present with
a soup made from the bones, reserving the flesh for future repasts. This
providential relief gave them strength to pursue their journey, but they
were frequently reduced to almost equal straits, and it was only the
smallness of their party, requiring a small supply of provisions, that
enabled them to get through this desolate region with their lives.
At length, after twenty-one days of to 11 and suffering, they got
through these mountains, and arrived at a tributary stream of that
branch of the Columbia called Lewis River, of which Snake River forms
the southern fork. In this neighborhood they met with wild horses, the
first they had seen west of the Rocky Mountains. From hence they made
their way to Lewis River, where they fell in with a friendly tribe of
Indians, who freely administered to their necessities. On this river
they procured two canoes, in which they dropped down the stream to its
confluence with the Columbia, and then down that river to Astoria, where
they arrived haggard and emaciated, and perfectly in rags.
Thus, all the leading persons of Mr. Hunt’s expedition were once
more gathered together, excepting Mr. Crooks, of whose safety they
entertained but little hope, considering the feeble condition in which
they had been compelled to leave him in the heart of the wilderness.
A day was now given up to jubilee, to celebrate the arrival of Mr. Hunt
and his companions, and the joyful meeting of the various scattered
bands of adventurers at Astoria. The colors were hoisted; the guns,
great and small, were fired; there was a feast of fish, of beaver, and
venison, which relished well with men who had so long been glad to revel
on horse flesh and dogs’ meat; a genial allowance of grog was issued, to
increase the general animation, and the festivities wound up, as usual,
with a grand dance at night, by the Canadian voyageurs. *
*The distance from St. Louis to Astoria, by the route
travelled by Hunt and M’Kenzie, was upwards of thirty-five
hundred miles, though in a direct line it does not exceed
eighteen hundred.