VOYAGE OF 1843.
The voyage of 1843 is known in more complete detail than any other in
the history of the river. There are two complete journals of it--the
Sire logbook, just referred to, and the published journal of the great
naturalist, Audubon, who was one of the passengers. Captain La Barge
himself gave the present author his full recollections of the trip.
There were in all about one hundred passengers, besides some Indians
returning to their country from a visit to St. Louis. The passenger
list included the usual picturesque variety, but its most conspicuous
and noteworthy feature was, of course, the presence of Audubon and his
party of scientists. Captain Joseph Sire was master of the boat and
Captain La Barge pilot.
The _Omega_ left St. Louis April 25, 1843. Along the lower course
of the river the voyage was more than ordinarily difficult. The
waters were high and the bottoms were badly overflowed, making shore
excursions very unpleasant. The current was strong and the winds so
severe and constant that the boat had to lie at the bank for several
hours nearly every day. These delays were improved by the boat crew in
procuring wood, and by the scientists in studying the country.
[Sidenote: AN INDISPENSABLE ARTICLE.]
No incident worthy of particular mention occurred until the boat
reached Bellevue, a few miles below the modern site of Omaha, Neb. The
importation of liquor into the Indian country was prohibited under the
severest penalties, and inspectors were stationed at Leavenworth and
Bellevue to examine all cargoes bound up the river. Now it so happened
that liquor was the one article above all others that the traders
considered indispensable to their business, and they never failed to
smuggle it through in some way or other. In the earlier years there was
only one place at which the cargoes going up the river were inspected,
and that was Fort Leavenworth. Later, when an Indian agency was
established at Bellevue, that place also became a point of detention.
At this particular time it was the _bête noire_ of the American Fur
Company traders. The military authorities at Fort Leavenworth, from
long experience in the country and intimate knowledge of conditions
prevailing there, exercised their office as inspectors with reasonable
judgment and discretion. They understood very well that the small
competing traders would smuggle liquor past them in spite of all they
could do, and that to deprive the only responsible company on the
river of its means of maintaining itself was simply to debauch the
trade with the Indians to a reckless and demoralizing rivalry among a
horde of irresponsible traders. They were therefore very lenient in
their inspections, and the company rarely had any difficulty in getting
past them.
[Sidenote: A ZEALOUS CLERGYMAN.]
Not so, however, with some of the newly appointed Indian agents. It
was about this time that the Indian Department tried the experiment
of assigning clergymen to the agencies--an example of good intentions
but bad judgment. These new agents showed more zeal than discretion
in their work, and although they put the traders to a great deal of
trouble, it is doubtful if they lessened by a single drop the amount of
liquor carried into the country.
On the occasion of the voyage of 1843 the agent at Bellevue happened
to be absent from his station when the boat arrived. Elated at this
unexpected good fortune, Captain Sire lost no time in putting off the
freight destined for this point and in getting on his way. He pursued
his voyage until nine o’clock that evening, and doubtless felicitated
himself that he was out of danger. But it appears that the agent had
delegated the function of inspector during his absence to the commander
of the United States troops in the vicinity. The boat left her mooring
at daylight next morning, but had scarcely gotten under way when a
couple of rifle shots were fired across her bow. She brought to at once
and made for the shore. There Captain Sire found a lieutenant in charge
of a few dragoons, who had come from his camp four miles distant. The
young officer came on board and presented to Captain Sire a polite note
from Captain Burgwin, commander of the camp, stating that his orders
required him to inspect the boat before letting her proceed.
[Sidenote: A DASH OF COLD WATER.]
This was like a dash of cold water to the buoyant spirits of Captain
Sire, and none the less so to Audubon, to whom, as well as to the
company, the loss of the liquid portion of the cargo would have been
irreparable. The naturalist had a permit from the government to carry
with him a quantity of liquor for the use of himself and party, and
upon showing his credentials to the young officer he was, to use his
own words, “immediately settled comfortably.” But in the moment of his
good fortune he did not forget his companions who were not yet “settled
comfortably.” He understood that time was required to prepare for the
approaching function, and he could at least help to secure this time
by delaying inspection as long as possible. He accordingly expressed
a desire to visit the camp, and the lieutenant detailed a dragoon to
accompany him. The great naturalist rode four miles to call upon an
obscure army officer whom he knew he could see in a short time by
waiting at the boat. The officer was overwhelmed at the honor of the
visit, and when Audubon offered to present his credentials he politely
and gallantly replied that his name was too well known throughout the
United States to require any letters. Audubon says of the occasion:
“I was on excellent and friendly terms in less time than it has taken
me to write this account of our meeting.” Between his entertaining
conversation and the shooting of some birds he contrived to detain the
Captain for a good two hours before they returned to the boat.
[Sidenote: THE TRAMWAY IN THE HOLD.]
The time had not been wasted by Captain Sire and his loyal crew. The
shallow hold of the steamboat of those days was divided lengthwise into
two compartments by a partition or bulkhead running the full length of
the boat. A narrow-gauge tramway extended down each side of the hold
its entire length, the two sides connecting with each other by a curve
which passed under the hatchway in the forecastle. Small cars received
the cargo let down through the hatchway, and carried it to its place
in the hold or brought it out again when the boat was being unloaded.
A car could pass from the stern of the boat on one side of the hold
around the curve in the bow and to the stern of the boat on the other
side. There being no windows in the hold, everything was buried in
blackness a few feet from the hatchway. Workmen were lighted to their
labors by means of candles.
During the absence of Audubon the crew had loaded all the liquor upon
the cars, and had run them down on one side of the hold far enough
from the hatchway to be entirely concealed in the darkness. They were
carefully instructed in the part they had to play in the approaching
comedy, and very likely were put through a preliminary rehearsal or two.
[Sidenote: THE VIRTUOUS SIRE.]
When Captain Burgwin arrived in Audubon’s company, he was received
most hospitably and treated to a luncheon, in which was included, as a
matter of course, a generous portion from the private store embraced
in Audubon’s “credentials.” By this time the young Captain was in
most excellent temper and was quite disposed to forego the inspection
altogether. But the virtuous Sire would not have it so. “I insisted, as
it were,” says the worthy navigator in his log of May 10, “that he make
the strictest possible search, but upon the condition that he would do
the same with other traders.”[21]
[Sidenote: A FAIR PROPOSITION.]
A proposition so eminently fair was at once agreed to by the inspector,
whose mellow faculties were now in a most accommodating condition.
The shrewd steamboat master, who never forgot to be sober when his
company’s interests were at stake, escorted the officer down the
hatchway, and together they groped their way along the hold by the
light of a not too brilliant candle. It may be imagined with what zeal
the scrupulous Captain thrust the ineffectual flame into every nook and
corner, and even insisted that the inspector move a box or bale now and
then to assure himself that everything was all right.
Arrived at the foot of the hold, they passed through an opening and
started back on the other side. The officer was doubtless too much
absorbed with the effects of his recent collation to notice the glimmer
of light under the hatchway at the other end of the boat, where a
miniature train with its suspicious cargo was creeping stealthily
around the curve and disappearing toward the side which they had just
left. The party finished their inspection, and everything was found
quite as it should be. With many protestations of good will the clever
hosts and their delighted guest parted company, and the good Captain
Sire went on his way rejoicing. But woe to the luckless craft of some
rival trader which should happen along with no Audubon in the cabin and
no tramway in the hold.[22]
The ordeal of inspection being over, the boat proceeded on her way with
no further drawbacks than those arising from the various hindrances
to navigation. One of the disagreeable features of the trip above the
mouth of the Big Sioux River was the vast number of dead buffalo that
were encountered. They had been drowned on the upper river at the time
of the spring break-up in attempting to cross the ice after it became
too weak. Their bodies had then floated downstream and had lodged
all along the river on sandbars, islands, or the low shores. Some
time having elapsed since they were drowned, their flesh was now in a
condition that rendered the air almost insupportable.
[Sidenote: AN INDIAN ATTACK.]
An incident which caused considerable excitement, but luckily no
misfortune, occurred at Handy’s Point (where Fort Randall later stood)
on the 22d of May. A band of eight or ten Santee Indians, apparently
angered because the boat would not stop for them, opened fire upon it
from the bank. The bullets tore through the cabins and pilot-house,
but by the greatest good luck no one was hurt. A Scotchman who was
asleep in his bunk was awakened and terribly frightened by one of the
bullets which entered his berth, passing through his pantaloons, and
flattening itself against a trunk. Audubon saved two of the spent
bullets as relics. He was himself standing near one of the chimneys and
saw a bullet splash in the water just in front of the boat. Considering
the large number of people on board, the escape of everyone was almost
miraculous.
[Sidenote: CAREFUL OF HIS EYESIGHT.]
Captain La Barge was at the wheel at the time. In the pilot-house with
him was a French negro from Louisiana named Jacques Desiré, always
known as Black Dave. He was an excellent pilot and was on board with
a crew to return with the steamboat _Trapper_, which had been left up
the river the previous autumn on account of low water. When the bullet
crashed through the pilot-house Black Dave walked quietly out and took
shelter behind one of the smokestacks, where he remained until the boat
was well away from the scene of the attack. Captain La Barge asked him
why he did not remain in the pilot-house, so as to be ready to take the
wheel in case he himself were disabled. Dave replied that it was not
the fear of bullets that drove him away, but that his eyesight was all
he had to make his living by, and he was afraid of its getting injured
by the flying glass.
[Sidenote: AN UNPOPULAR PASSENGER.]
As may readily be understood, a feature of first importance on this
trip was the presence of so distinguished a passenger as the naturalist
Audubon. The impression which the celebrated scientist made upon the
crew and those who were entertaining him was quite unfavorable. He was
very reserved, and when he did hold intercourse with members of the
crew it was generally in an overbearing manner which alienated their
good will. It thus resulted that his hunters rendered him inefficient
service, and his journal is full of complaints at their failure to keep
their promises. Certain personal habits aggravated this defect, and
altogether he was not a popular traveler with the crew.
Captain La Barge mentions several instances of his ill treatment, one
of which concerned himself, and is here given in his own words, as he
once prepared them for publication in the _Missouri Republican_:
[Sidenote: THE BLACK SQUIRREL.]
“On one occasion he [Audubon] asked me if I had ever seen any
black squirrels during my voyages on the upper Missouri River.
My answer was that I had often killed them. ‘Do you know what
a black squirrel is?’ he asked. I replied that I knew what I
called a black squirrel, and would try to get him one at the
first opportunity. A few days later we were windbound. Seeing
that we would be compelled to remain tied to the bank most of
the day I took my gun and started around to look for a black
squirrel. I was fortunate. I ran across a very fine one and
shot him. He proved to be a fine large buck. I brought him
aboard. The first person I met was Mr. Bell, taxidermist of the
Audubon party, who remarked, after examining the squirrel, that
it was certainly a very fine specimen. He called Mr. Audubon’s
attention to it, who examined the animal carefully, and then
said to me: ‘_That_ is what you call a black squirrel, is it?
I expected as much. It is very strange that people born and
raised in a country do not know the names of the animals and
birds which it produces.’ After the squirrel had been thus
criticised for some time, I remarked that I would take it down
to the cook and have it baked for dinner. ‘No, no!’ said Mr.
Audubon, ‘Mr. Bell will take care of it’; and then walked off.
“Some few days after this one of his assistants called to me to
show me a painting that Mr. Audubon had finished that morning.
This was after dinner, as Mr. Audubon had always to retire
to his stateroom after that meal and have his long afternoon
nap. The assistant took advantage of this opportunity to show
me some of the drawings which Mr. Audubon was opposed to our
seeing. On entering the room I saw the drawing of the squirrel
just finished, and certainly I never saw anything representing
life so strikingly. The assistant then told me that Mr.
Audubon had remarked that it was the best specimen of a black
squirrel that he had ever painted.”
[Sidenote: THE OVER-WISE BOTANIST.]
[Sidenote: A KERNEL OF CORN.]
The crew soon lost a good deal of the deference and respect which were
justly due to individuals of such scientific attainments as were those
of the Audubon party; and it is to be feared that they played pranks
on them now and then which they would have avoided with people of more
congenial manner. Etienne Provost was serving as guide to the party.
No one in that day knew the Western country better than he, and he was
quite astonished when Mr. Prou, Audubon’s botanist, said to him one day
that he could tell the name of any plant in that country from the leaf
and stalk, even if he had never seen it growing. “You may think so,”
said Provost, “but I will undertake to prove that you are mistaken; for
I know a plant that grows in this country whose name you will not be
able to tell, even with the aid of your books.” Soon afterward the boat
landed to take on wood near the mouth of the Cheyenne River. A band of
Indians had spent the previous winter near by and had dropped some of
their corn on the ground. This was now well sprouted and the tender
blades were just shooting up. Provost carefully cut the ground around a
spear of the corn so as not to disturb the roots or the kernel, which
was still attached thereto. He deftly concealed everything except one
leaf and then showed it to Mr. Prou. The eager scientist was looking
for some test of a formidable character, and anything like corn did
not even occur to him. It is doubtful if he realized at the time that
corn was grown in that country. He racked his brain for a plant that he
could identify with the specimen. He grew nervous under the scrutiny
of the on-lookers that had gathered around him. Taking his book,
he searched back and forth, but to no purpose. It was indeed a new
species, and he finally acknowledged himself beaten. Provost then, with
provoking gravity, pulled away the dirt around the roots and finally
disclosed to the astonished scientist--a kernel of _corn_.
Above Omaha the boat made its way with more than usual speed and good
luck to its destination. It reached Fort Pierre May 31 and Fort Union
at sundown June 12. It left Fort Union June 14, reached Pierre June 21,
and St. Louis June 29. The time consumed was forty-nine days from St.
Louis to Fort Union and seventeen days returning. Mr. Audubon and party
remained at Fort Union until autumn, returning in a mackinaw boat.