Departure of Mr. Hunt in the Beaver--Precautions at the
Factory.-Detachment to the Wollamut.--Gloomy Apprehensions.--
Arrival of M’Kenzie.--Affairs at the Shahaptan.--News of
War.--Dismay of M’Dougal.-Determination to Abandon Astoria.--
Departure of M’Kenzie for the Interior.--Adventure at the
Rapids.--Visit to the Ruffians of Wish-ram.--A Perilous
Situation.--Meeting With M’Tavish and His Party.--Arrival at
the Shahaptan.--Plundered Caches.-Determination of the
Wintering Partners Not to Leave the Country.--Arrival of
Clarke Among the Nez Perces.--The Affair of the Silver
Goblet.--Hanging of An Indian.--Arrival of the Wintering
Partners at Astoria.
AFTER the departure of the different detachments, or brigades, as they
are called by the fur traders, the Beaver prepared for her voyage along
the coast, and her visit to the Russian establishment, at New Archangel,
where she was to carry supplies. It had been determined in the council
of partners at Astoria, that Mr. Hunt should embark in this vessel,
for the purpose of acquainting himself with the coasting trade, and of
making arrangements with the commander of the Russian post, and that he
should be re-landed in October, at Astoria, by the Beaver, on her way to
the Sandwich Islands and Canton.
The Beaver put to sea in the month of August. Her departure and that
of the various brigades, left the fortress of Astoria but slightly
garrisoned. This was soon perceived by some of the Indian tribes, and
the consequence was increased insolence of deportment, and a disposition
to hostility. It was now the fishing season, when the tribes from the
northern coast drew into the neighborhood of the Columbia. These were
warlike and perfidious in their dispositions; and noted for their
attempts to surprise trading ships. Among them were numbers of the
Neweetees, the ferocious tribe that massacred the crew of the Tonquin.
Great precautions, therefore, were taken at the factory, to guard
against surprise while these dangerous intruders were in the vicinity.
Galleries were constructed inside of the palisades; the bastions were
heightened, and sentinels were posted day and night. Fortunately, the
Chinooks and other tribes resident in the vicinity manifested the most
pacific disposition. Old Comcomly, who held sway over them, was a shrewd
calculator. He was aware of the advantages of having the whites as
neighbors and allies, and of the consequence derived to himself and his
people from acting as intermediate traders between them and the distant
tribes. He had, therefore, by this time, become a firm friend of the
Astorians, and formed a kind of barrier between them and the hostile
intruders from the north.
The summer of 1812 passed away without any of the hostilities that had
been apprehended; the Neweetees, and other dangerous visitors to the
neighborhood, finished their fishing and returned home, and the inmates
of the factory once more felt secure from attack.
It now became necessary to guard against other evils. The season of
scarcity arrived, which commences in October, and lasts until the end
of January. To provide for the support of the garrison, the shallop was
employed to forage about the shores of the river. A number of the men,
also, under the command of some of the clerks, were sent to quarter
themselves on the banks of the Wollamut (the Multnomah of Lewis and
Clarke), a fine river which disembogues itself into the Columbia, about
sixty miles above Astoria. The country bordering on the river is finely
diversified with prairies and hills, and forests of oak, ash, maple,
and cedar. It abounded, at that time, with elk and deer, and the streams
were well stocked with beaver. Here the party, after supplying their own
wants, were enabled to pack up quantities of dried meat, and send it by
canoes to Astoria.
The month of October elapsed without the return of the Beaver. November,
December, January, passed away, and still nothing was seen or heard of
her. Gloomy apprehensions now began to be entertained: she might have
been wrecked in the course of her coasting voyage, or surprised, like
the Tonquin, by some of the treacherous tribes of the north.
No one indulged more in these apprehensions than M’Dougal, who had
now the charge of the establishment. He no longer evinced the bustling
confidence and buoyancy which once characterized him. Command seemed to
have lost its charms for him, or rather, he gave way to the most abject
despondency, decrying the whole enterprise, magnifying every untoward
circumstance, and foreboding nothing but evil.
While in this moody state, he was surprised, on the 16th of January, by
the sudden appearance of M’Kenzie, wayworn and weather-beaten by a long
wintry journey from his post on the Shahaptan, and with a face the very
frontispiece for a volume of misfortune. M’Kenzie had been heartily
disgusted and disappointed at his post. It was in the midst of the
Tushepaws, a powerful and warlike nation, divided into many tribes,
under different chiefs, who possessed innumerable horses, but, not
having turned their attention to beaver trapping, had no furs to offer.
According to M’Kenzie, they were but a “rascally tribe;” from which we
may infer that they were prone to consult their own interests more than
comported with the interests of a greedy Indian trader.
Game being scarce, he was obliged to rely, for the most part,
on horse-flesh for subsistence, and the Indians discovering his
necessities, adopted a policy usual in civilized trade, and raised the
price of horses to an exorbitant rate, knowing that he and his men must
eat or die. In this way, the goods he had brought to trade for beaver
skins, were likely to be bartered for horseflesh, and all the proceeds
devoured upon the spot.
He had despatched trappers in various directions, but the country around
did not offer more beaver than his own station. In this emergency he
began to think of abandoning his unprofitable post, sending his goods
to the posts of Clarke and David Stuart, who could make a better use
of them, as they were in a good beaver country, and returning with his
party to Astoria, to seek some better destination. With this view he
repaired to the post of Mr. Clarke, to hold a consultation. While the
two partners were in conference in Mr. Clarke’s wigwam, an unexpected
visitor came bustling in upon them.
This was Mr. John George M’Tavish, a partner of the Northwest
Company, who had charge of the rival trading posts established in that
neighborhood. Mr. M’Tavish was the delighted messenger of bad news. He
had been to Lake Winnipeg, where he received an express from Canada,
containing the declaration of war, and President Madison’s proclamation,
which he handed with the most officious complaisance to Messrs. Clarke
and M’Kenzie. He moreover told them that he had received a fresh
supply of goods from the Northwest posts on the other side of the Rocky
Mountains, and was prepared for vigorous opposition to the establishment
of the American Company. He capped the climax of this obliging but
belligerent intelligence, by informing them that the armed ship, Isaac
Todd, was to be at the mouth of the Columbia about the beginning of
March, to get possession of the trade of the river, and that he was
ordered to join her there at that time.
The receipt of this news determined M’Kenzie. He immediately returned to
the Shahaptan, broke up his establishment, deposited his goods in cache,
and hastened with all his people to Astoria.
The intelligence thus brought, completed the dismay of M’Dougal, and
seemed to produce a complete confusion of mind. He held a council of war
with M’Kenzie, at which some of the clerks were present, but of course
had no votes. They gave up all hope of maintaining their post at
Astoria. The Beaver had probably been lost; they could receive no
aid from the United States, as all the ports would be blockaded. From
England nothing could be expected but hostility. It was determined,
therefore, to abandon the establishment in the course of the following
spring, and return across the Rocky Mountains. In pursuance of this
resolution, they suspended all trade with the natives, except for
provisions, having already more peltries than they could carry away, and
having need of all the goods for the clothing and subsistence of their
people, during the remainder of their sojourn, and on their journey
across the mountains, This intention of abandoning Astoria was, however,
kept secret from the men, lest they should at once give up all labor,
and become restless and insubordinate.
In the meantime, M’Kenzie set off for his post at the Shahaptan, to get
his goods from the caches, and buy horses and provisions with them for
the caravan across the mountains. He was charged with despatches from
M’Dougal to Messrs. Stuart and Clarke, appraising them of the intended
migration, that they might make timely preparations.
M’Kenzie was accompanied by two of the clerks, Mr. John Reed, the
Irishman, and Mr. Alfred Seton, of New York. They embarked in two
canoes, manned by seventeen men, and ascended the river without any
incident of importance, until they arrived in the eventful neighborhood
of the rapids. They made the portage of the narrows and the falls early
in the afternoon, and, having partaken of a scanty meal, had now a long
evening on their hands.
On the opposite side of the river lay the village of Wish-ram, of
freebooting renown. Here lived the savages who had robbed and maltreated
Reed, when bearing his tin box of despatches. It was known that the
rifle of which he was despoiled was retained as a trophy at the village.
M’Kenzie offered to cross the river, and demand the rifle, if any one
would accompany him. It was a hare-brained project, for these villages
were noted for the ruffian character of their inhabitants; yet two
volunteers promptly stepped forward; Alfred Seton, the clerk, and Joe
de la Pierre, the cook. The trio soon reached the opposite side of the
river. On landing, they freshly primed their rifles and pistols. A path
winding for about a hundred yards among rocks and crags, led to the
village. No notice seemed to be taken of their approach. Not a solitary
being, man, woman, or child, greeted them.
The very dogs, those noisy pests of an Indian town, kept silence. On
entering the village, a boy made his appearance, and pointed to a house
of larger dimensions than the rest. They had to stoop to enter it; as
soon as they had passed the threshold, the narrow passage behind them
was filled up by a sudden rush of Indians, who had before kept out of
sight.
M’Kenzie and his companions found themselves in a rude chamber of about
twenty-five feet long and twenty wide. A bright fire was blazing at one
end, near which sat the chief, about sixty years old. A large number of
Indians, wrapped in buffalo robes, were squatted in rows, three deep,
forming a semicircle round three sides of the room. A single glance
around sufficed to show them the grim and dangerous assembly into which
they had intruded, and that all retreat was cut off by the mass which
blocked up the entrance.
The chief pointed to the vacant side of the room opposite to the door,
and motioned for them to take their seats. They complied. A dead pause
ensued. The grim warriors around sat like statues; each muffled in his
robe, with his fierce eyes bent on the intruders. The latter felt they
were in a perilous predicament.
“Keep your eyes on the chief while I am addressing him,” said M’Kenzie
to his companions. “Should he give any sign to his band, shoot him, and
make for the door.”
M’Kenzie advanced, and offered the pipe of peace to the chief, but it
was refused. He then made a regular speech, explaining the object
of their visit, and proposing to give in exchange for the rifle two
blankets, an axe, some beads and tobacco.
When he had done, the chief rose, began to address him in a low voice,
but soon became loud and violent, and ended by working himself up into a
furious passion. He upbraided the white men for their sordid conduct in
passing and repassing through their neighborhood, without giving them a
blanket or any other article of goods, merely because they had no furs
to barter in exchange, and he alluded, with menaces of vengeance, to the
death of the Indian killed by the whites in the skirmish at the falls.
Matters were verging to a crisis. It was evident the surrounding savages
were only waiting a signal from the chief to spring upon their prey.
M’Kenzie and his companions had gradually risen on their feet during
the speech, and had brought their rifles to a horizontal position, the
barrels resting in their left hands; the muzzle of M’Kenzie’s piece was
within three feet of the speaker’s heart. They cocked their rifles; the
click of the locks for a moment suffused the dark cheek of the savage,
and there was a pause. They coolly, but promptly, advanced to the door;
the Indians fell back in awe, and suffered them to pass. The sun was
just setting, as they emerged from this dangerous den. They took the
precaution to keep along the tops of the rocks as much as possible
on their way back to the canoe, and reached their camp in safety,
congratulating themselves on their escape, and feeling no desire to make
a second visit to the grim warriors of Wish-ram.
M’Kenzie and his party resumed their journey the next morning. At some
distance above the falls of the Columbia, they observed two bark canoes,
filled with white men, coming down the river, to the full chant of a
set of Canadian voyageurs. A parley ensued. It was a detachment of
Northwesters, under the command of Mr. John George M’Tavish, bound, full
of song and spirit, to the mouth of the Columbia, to await the arrival
of the Isaac Todd.
Mr. M’Kenzie and M’Tavish came to a halt, and landing, encamped for the
night. The voyageurs of either party hailed each other as brothers, and
old “comrades,” and they mingled together as if united by one common
interest, instead of belonging to rival companies, and trading under
hostile flags.
In the morning they proceeded on their different ways, in style
corresponding to their different fortunes: the one toiling painfully
against the stream, the other sweeping down gayly with the Current.
M’Kenzie arrived safely at his deserted post on the Shahaptan, but
found, to his chagrin, that his caches had been discovered and rifled by
the Indians. Here was a dilemma, for on the stolen goods he had depended
to purchase horses of the Indians. He sent out men in all directions to
endeavor to discover the thieves, and despatched Mr. Reed to the posts
of Messrs. Clarke and David Stuart, with the letters of Mr. M’Dougal.
The resolution announced in these letters, to break up and depart from
Astoria, was condemned by both Clarke and Stuart. These two gentlemen
had been very successful at their posts, and considered it rash and
pusillanimous to abandon, on the first difficulty, an enterprise of such
great cost and ample promise. They made no arrangements, therefore, for
leaving the country, but acted with a view to the maintenance of their
new and prosperous establishments.
The regular time approached, when the partners of the interior--posts
were to rendezvous at the mouth of the Wallah-Wallah, on their way to
Astoria, with the peltries they had collected. Mr. Clarke accordingly
packed all his furs on twenty-eight horses, and, leaving a clerk and
four men to take charge of the post, departed on the 25th of May with
the residue of his force.
On the 30th, he arrived at the confluence of the Pavion and Lewis
rivers, where he had left his barge and canoes, in the guardianship of
the old Pierced-nosed chieftain. That dignitary had acquitted himself
more faithfully to his charge than Mr. Clarke had expected, and the
canoes were found in very tolerable order. Some repairs were necessary,
and, while they were making, the party encamped close by the village.
Having had repeated and vexatious proofs of the pilfering propensities
of this tribe during his former visit, Mr. Clarke ordered that a wary
eye should be kept upon them.
He was a tall, good-looking man, and somewhat given to pomp and
circumstance, which made him an object of note in the eyes of the
wondering savages. He was stately, too, in his appointments, and had
a silver goblet or drinking cup, out of which he would drink with
a magnificent air, and then lock it up in a large garde vin, which
accompanied him in his travels, and stood in his tent. This goblet
had originally been sent as a present from Mr. Astor to Mr. M’Kay,
the partner who had unfortunately been blown up in the Tonquin. As it
reached Astoria after the departure of that gentleman, it had remained
in the possession of Mr. Clarke.
A silver goblet was too glittering a prize not to catch the eye of a
Pierced-nose. It was like the shining tin case of John Reed. Such a
wonder had never been seen in the land before. The Indians talked about
it to one another. They marked the care with which it was deposited in
the garde vin, like a relic in its shrine, and concluded that it must
be a “great medicine.” That night Mr. Clarke neglected to lock up his
treasure; in the morning the sacred casket was open--the precious relic
gone!
Clarke was now outrageous. All the past vexations that he had suffered
from this pilfering community rose to mind, and he threatened that,
unless the goblet was promptly returned, he would hang the thief, should
he eventually discover him. The day passed away, however, without the
restoration of the cup. At night sentinels were secretly posted about
the camp. With all their vigilance, a Pierced-nose contrived to get into
the camp unperceived, and to load himself with booty; it was only on his
retreat that he was discovered and taken.
At daybreak the culprit was brought to trial, and promptly convicted.
He stood responsible for all the spoliations of the camp, the precious
goblet among the number, and Mr. Clarke passed sentence of death upon
him.
A gibbet was accordingly constructed of oars; the chief of the village
and his people were assembled, and the culprit was produced, with his
legs and arms pinioned. Clarke then made a harangue. He reminded the
tribe of the benefits he had bestowed upon them during his former
visits, and the many thefts and other misdeeds which he had overlooked.
The prisoner, especially, had always been peculiarly well treated by
the white men, but had repeatedly been guilty of pilfering. He was to be
punished for his own misdeeds, and as a warning to his tribe.
The Indians now gathered round Mr. Clarke, and interceded for the
culprit. They were willing he should be punished severely, but implored
that his life might be spared. The companions, too, of Mr. Clarke,
considered the sentence too severe, and advised him to mitigate it; but
he was inexorable. He was not naturally a stern or cruel man; but from
his boyhood he had lived in the Indian country among Indian traders,
and held the life of a savage extremely cheap. He was, moreover, a firm
believer in the doctrine of intimidation.
Farnham, a clerk, a tall “Green Mountain boy” from Vermont, who had been
robbed of a pistol, acted as executioner. The signal was given, and
the poor Pierced-nose resisting, struggling, and screaming, in the most
frightful manner, was launched into eternity. The Indians stood round
gazing in silence and mute awe, but made no attempt to oppose the
execution, nor testified any emotion when it was over. They locked up
their feelings within their bosoms until an opportunity should arrive to
gratify them with a bloody act of vengeance.
To say nothing of the needless severity of this act, its impolicy was
glaringly obvious. Mr. M’Lennan and three men were to return to the post
with the horses, their loads having been transferred to the canoes. They
would have to pass through a tract of country infested by this tribe,
who were all horsemen and hard riders, and might pursue them to take
vengeance for the death of their comrade. M’Lennan, however, was a
resolute fellow, and made light of all dangers. He and his three men
were present at the execution, and set off as soon as life was extinct
in the victim; but, to use the words of one of their comrades, “they
did not let the grass grow under the heels of their horses, as they
clattered out of the Pierced-nose country,” and were glad to find
themselves in safety at the post.
Mr. Clarke and his party embarked about the same time in their canoes,
and early on the following day reached the mouth of the Wallah-Wallah,
where they found Messrs. Stuart and M’Kenzie awaiting them; the latter
having recovered part of the goods stolen from his cache. Clarke
informed them of the signal punishment he had inflicted on the
Pierced-nose, evidently expecting to excite their admiration by such a
hardy act of justice, performed in the very midst of the Indian
country, but was mortified at finding it strongly censured as inhuman,
unnecessary, and likely to provoke hostilities.
The parties thus united formed a squadron of two boats and six canoes,
with which they performed their voyage in safety down the river, and
arrived at Astoria on the 12th of June, bringing with them a valuable
stock of peltries.
About ten days previously, the brigade which had been quartered on the
banks of the Wollamut, had arrived with numerous packs of beaver, the
result of a few months’ sojourn on that river. These were the first
fruits of the enterprise, gathered by men as yet mere strangers in the
land; but they were such as to give substantial grounds for sanguine
anticipations of profit, when the country should be more completely
explored, and the trade established.