[Illustration: SHOOTING TONGUES OF SMOKE FROM THEIR GREAT BLACK THROATS]
Historic Adventures
_Tales from American History_
By
RUPERT S. HOLLAND
_Author of "Historic Boyhoods," "Historic Girlhoods,"
"Historic Inventions," etc._
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA
GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1913, by
GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY
_Published October, 1913_
_All rights reserved_
Printed in U.S.A.
_To
Robert D. Jenks_
Contents
I. THE LOST CHILDREN 9
II. THE GREAT JOURNEY OF LEWIS AND CLARK 21
III. THE CONSPIRACY OF AARON BURR 59
IV. HOW THE YOUNG REPUBLIC FOUGHT THE BARBARY PIRATES 80
V. THE FATE OF LOVEJOY'S PRINTING-PRESS 113
VI. HOW MARCUS WHITMAN SAVED OREGON 135
VII. HOW THE MORMONS CAME TO SETTLE UTAH 165
VIII. THE GOLDEN DAYS OF 'FORTY-NINE 181
IX. HOW THE UNITED STATES MADE FRIENDS WITH JAPAN 203
X. THE PIG THAT ALMOST CAUSED A WAR 222
XI. JOHN BROWN AT HARPER'S FERRY 229
XII. AN ARCTIC EXPLORER 254
XIII. THE STORY OF ALASKA 264
XIV. HOW THE "MERRIMAC" WAS SUNK IN SANTIAGO HARBOR 275
Illustrations
Shooting tongues of smoke from their great black
throats _Frontispiece_
_Facing page_
Sawquehanna seemed to remember the voice 18
Decatur caught the Moor's arm 90
The last six hundred miles were the hardest 152
Nauvoo had handsome houses and public buildings 166
Wherever there was a stream explorers began to dig 186
The teams, exhausted, began to fail 200
Spanish boats pulled close to them 282
I
THE LOST CHILDREN
The valleys of Pennsylvania were dotted with log cabins in the days of
the French and Indian wars. Sometimes a number of the little houses
stood close together for protection, but often they were built far
apart. Wherever the pioneer saw good farm land he settled. It was a new
sensation for men to be able to go into the country and take whatever
land attracted them. Gentle rolling fields, with wide views of distant
country through the notches of the hills, shining rivers, splendid uncut
forests, and rich pasturage were to be found not far from the growing
village of Philadelphia, and were free to any who wished to take them.
Such a land would have been a paradise, but for one shadow that hung
over it. In the background always lurked the Indians, who might at any
time, without rhyme or reason, steal down upon the lonely hamlet or
cabin, and lay it waste. The pioneer looked across the broad acres of
central Pennsylvania and found them beautiful. Only when he had built
his home and planted his fields did he fully realize the constant peril
that lurked in the wooded mountains.
English, French, and Spanish came to the new world, and the English
proved themselves the best colonists. They settled the central part
of the Atlantic Coast, but among them and mixed with them were people
of other lands. The Dutch took a liking for the Island of Manhattan
and the Hudson River, the Swedes for Delaware, and into the colony of
William Penn came pilgrims from what was called the Palatinate, Germans,
a strong race drawn partly by desire for religious freedom, partly by
the reports of the great free lands across the ocean. They brought with
them the tongue, the customs, and the names of the German Fatherland,
and many a valley of eastern Pennsylvania heard only the German language
spoken.
The Indian tribes known as the Six Nations roamed through the country
watered by the Susquehanna. They hunted through all the land south of
the Great Lakes. Sometimes they fought with the Delawares, sometimes
with the Catawbas, and again they would smoke the calumet or pipe of
peace with their neighbors, and give up the war-path for months at a
time. But the settlers could never be sure of their intentions. Wily
French agents might sow seeds of discord in the Indians' minds, and
then the chiefs who had lately exchanged gifts with the settlers might
suddenly steal upon some quiet village and leave the place in ruins.
This constant peril was the price men had to pay in return for the right
to take whatever land they liked.
In a little valley of eastern Pennsylvania a German settler named John
Hartman had built a cabin in 1754. He had come to this place with his
wife and four children because here he might earn a good living from the
land. He was a hard worker, and his farm was prospering. He had horses
and cattle, and his wife spun and wove the clothing for the family. The
four children, George, Barbara, Regina, and Christian, looked upon the
valley as their home, forgetting the German village over the sea. Not
far away lived neighbors, and sometimes the children went to play with
other boys and girls, and sometimes their friends spent a holiday on
John Hartman's farm.
The family, like all farmers' families, rose early. Before they began
the day's work the father would read to them from his big Bible, which
he had brought from his native land as his most valuable possession. On
a bright morning in the autumn of 1754 he gathered his family in the
living-room of his cabin and read them a Bible lesson. The doors and
windows stood open, and the sun flooded the little house, built of rough
boards, and scrupulously clean. The farmer's dog, Wasser, lay curled
up asleep just outside the front door, and a pair of horses, already
harnessed, stood waiting to be driven to the field. Birds singing in
the trees called to the children to hurry out-of-doors. They tried to
listen to their father's voice as he read, and to pay attention. As they
all knelt he prayed for their safety. Then they had breakfast, and the
father and mother made plans for the day. Mrs. Hartman was to take the
younger boy, Christian, to the flour-mill several miles away, and if
they had time was to call at the cabin of a sick friend. The father and
George went to the field to finish their sowing before the autumn rains
should come, and the two little girls were told to look after the house
till their mother should return. Little Christian sat upon an old horse,
held on by his mother, and waved his hand to his father and George as he
rode by the field on his way to the mill.
The girls, like their mother, were good housekeepers. They set the table
for dinner, and at noon Barbara blew the big tin horn to call her father
and brother. As they were eating dinner the dog Wasser came running into
the house growling, and acting as if he were very much frightened. Mr.
Hartman spoke to him, and called him to his side. But the dog stood in
the doorway, and then suddenly leaped forward and sprang upon an Indian
who came around the wall.
The peril that lurked in the woods had come. John Hartman jumped to the
door, but two rifle bullets struck him down. George sprang up, only to
fall beside his father. An Indian killed the dog with his tomahawk.
Into the peaceful cabin swarmed fifteen yelling savages. Barbara ran up
a ladder into the loft, and Regina fell on her knees, murmuring "Herr
Jesus! Herr Jesus!" The Indians hesitated, then one of them seized her,
and made a motion with his knife across her lips to bid her be silent.
Another went after Barbara and brought her down from the loft, and then
the Indians ordered the two girls to put on the table all the food there
was in the cabin.
When the food was gone the savages plundered the house, making bundles
of what they wanted and slinging them over their shoulders. They took
the two little girls into the field. There another girl stood tied to
the fence. When she saw Barbara and Regina she began to cry, and called
in German for her mother. While the three frightened girls stood close
together the Indians set fire to the cabin. Very soon the log house that
had cost John Hartman so much labor was burned to the ground. When their
work of destruction was completed the Indians took the three children
into the woods.
At sunset Mrs. Hartman returned from the flour-mill with little
Christian riding his horse, but when she came up the road it seemed as
if her house had disappeared. Yet the pine trees, the fences, the plowed
fields, and the orchard were still there. The little boy cried, "Where
is our house, mother?" and the poor woman could not understand.
The story of what had occurred was only too plain to her a few minutes
later. What had happened to many other pioneers had happened to her
family. Clutching Christian in her arms she ran to the house of her
nearest neighbor. There she heard that the Indians had left the same
track of blood through other parts of the valley; that farmers had
been slain; their crops burned; and their children carried off into the
wilderness. The terrified settlers banded together for protection. For
weeks new stories came of the Indians' massacres. If ever there were
heartless savages these were! They did not carry all the children to
their wigwams; some were killed on the way; and among them was little
Barbara Hartman. Word came from time to time of some of the stolen
children, but there was no word of Regina or Susan Smith, the daughter
of the neighboring farmer.
* * * * *
Far in the forests of western New York was the camp of a great Indian
tribe. The wigwams stood on the banks of a beautiful mountain stream,
broken by great rocks that sent the water leaping in cascades and
falls. In one of the wigwams lived the mother of a famous warrior
of the tribe, and with her were two girls whom she treated as her
daughters. The name of the old squaw was She-lack-la, which meant "the
Dark and Rainy Cloud," a name given her because at times she grew very
angry and ill-treated every one around her. Fortunately there were two
girls in her wigwam, and when the old squaw was in a bad temper they
had each other for protection. The older girl had been given the name
of Saw-que-han-na, or "the White Lily," and the other was known as
Kno-los-ka, "the Short-legged Bear." Like all the Indian girls they had
to work hard, grinding corn, cooking and keeping house for the boys
and men who were brought up to hunt and fight. Sawquehanna was tall and
strong, spoke the language of the tribe, and looked very much like her
Indian girl friends.
In the meantime many battles had been fought through the country of
the pioneers, and the English colonists were beating the French and
Indians, and driving the Frenchmen farther and farther north. In 1765
the long war between the two nations ended. Under a treaty of peace the
English Colonel Boquet demanded that all the white children who had
been captured by the Indian tribes should be surrendered to the English
officers. So one day white soldiers came into the woods of western New
York and found the wigwams there. The children were called out, and the
soldiers took the two girls from the old squaw Shelackla. Then they
went on to the other tribes, and from each they took all the white
children. They carried them to Fort Duquesne. The Fort was in western
Pennsylvania, and as soon as it was known that the lost white children
were there, fathers and mothers all over the country hurried to find
their boys and girls. Many of the children had been away so long that
they hardly remembered their parents, but most of the parents knew their
children, and found them again within the walls of the fortress.
Some of the children, however, were not claimed. Sawquehanna and her
friend Knoloska and nearly fifty more found no one looking for them
and wondered what would happen to them. After they had waited at Fort
Duquesne eight days, Colonel Boquet started to march with his band
of children to the town of Carlisle, in hopes that they might find
friends farther east, or at least kind-hearted people who would give the
children homes. He sent news of their march all through the country, and
from day to day as they traveled through the mountains by way of Fort
Ligonier, Raystown, and Louden, eager people arrived to search among the
band of children for lost sons and daughters. When the children came to
Carlisle the town was filled with settlers from the East.
The children stood in the market-place, and the men and women pressed
about them, trying to recognize little ones who had been carried away by
Indians years before. Some people who lived in the Blue Mountains were
in the throng, and they recognized the dark-haired Indian girl Knoloska
as Susan, the daughter of Mr. Smith, the farmer who had lived near the
Hartmans. Knoloska and Sawquehanna had not been separated for a long
time. They had kept together ever since the white soldiers had freed
them from the old squaw's wigwam. Sawquehanna could not bear to think of
having her comrade leave her, and Susan clung to her adopted sister's
arm and kissed her again and again. The white people were much kinder
than the old squaw had been, and instead of beating the girls when they
cried, and frightening them with threats, the officers told Sawquehanna
that she would probably find some friends soon, and if she did not, that
perhaps Susan's family would let her live in their home. But as nobody
seemed to recognize her Sawquehanna felt more lonely than she had ever
felt before.
Meanwhile Mrs. Hartman was living in the valley with her son Christian,
who had grown to be a strong boy of fourteen. Neighbors told her that
the lost children were being brought across the mountains to Carlisle,
but there seemed little chance that her own Regina might be one of them.
She decided, however, that she must go to the town and see. Travel
was difficult in those days, but the brave woman set out over the
mountains and across the rivers to Carlisle, and at last reached the
town market-place. She looked anxiously among the girls, remembering
her little daughter as she had been on that autumn day eleven years
before; but none of the girls had the blue eyes, light yellow hair and
red cheeks of Regina. Mrs. Hartman shook her head, and decided that her
daughter was not among these children.
As she turned away, disconsolate, Colonel Boquet said to her, "Can't you
find your daughter?"
"No," said the disappointed mother, "my daughter is not among those
children."
"Are you sure?" asked the colonel. "Are there no marks by which you
might know her?"
"None, sir," she answered, shaking her head.
Colonel Boquet considered the matter for a few minutes. "Did you ever
sing to her?" he asked presently. "Was there no old hymn that she was
fond of?"
The mother looked up quickly. "Yes, there was!" she answered. "I have
often sung her to sleep in my arms with an old German hymn we all loved
so well."
"Then," said the colonel, "you and I will walk along the line of girls
and you shall sing that hymn. It may be that your daughter has changed
so much that you wouldn't know her, but she may remember the tune."
Mrs. Hartman looked very doubtful. "There is little use in it, sir," she
said, "for certainly I should have known her if she were here; and if
I try your plan all these soldiers will laugh at me for a foolish old
German woman."
[Illustration: SAWQUEHANNA SEEMED TO REMEMBER THE VOICE]
The colonel, however, begged her at least to try his plan, and she
finally consented. They walked back to the place where the children were
standing, and Mrs. Hartman began to sing in a trembling voice the first
words of the old hymn:
"Alone, and yet not all alone, am I
In this lone wilderness."
As she went on singing every one stopped talking and turned to look at
her. The woman's hands were clasped as if in prayer, and her eyes
were closed. The sun shone full upon her white hair and upturned face.
There was something very beautiful in the picture she made, and there
was silence in the market-place as her gentle voice went on through the
words of the hymn.
The mother had begun the second verse when one of the children gave a
cry. It was Sawquehanna, who seemed suddenly to have remembered the
voice and words. She rushed forward, and flung her arms about the
mother's neck, crying, "Mother, mother!" Then, with her arms tight about
her, the tall girl joined in singing the words that had lulled her to
sleep in their cabin home.
"Alone, and yet not all alone, am I
In this lone wilderness,
I feel my Saviour always nigh;
He comes the weary hours to bless.
I am with Him, and He with me,
E'en here alone I cannot be."
The people in the market-place moved on about their own affairs, and the
mother and daughter were left together. Now Mrs. Hartman recognized the
blue eyes of Regina, and knew her daughter in spite of her height and
dark skin. Regina began to remember the days of her childhood, and the
years she had spent among the Indians were forgotten. She was a white
girl again, and happier now than she had ever thought to be.
Next day Knoloska, now Susan Smith, and Sawquehanna, or Regina Hartman,
went back to their homes in the valley. Many a settler there had found
his son or daughter in the crowd of lost children at Carlisle.
II
THE GREAT JOURNEY OF LEWIS AND CLARK
French is still spoken in Quebec and New Orleans, reminders that the
land of the lilies had much to do with the settlement of North America.
Many of the greatest explorers of the continent were Frenchmen. Jacques
Cartier sailed up the St. Lawrence River in 1534, and Champlain in 1603
founded New France, and from his small fortress at Quebec planned an
empire that should reach to Florida. In 1666 Robert Cavalier, the Sieur
de La Salle, came to Canada, and set out from his _seigneurie_ near the
rapids of Montreal to find the long-sought road to China. Instead of
doing that he discovered the Ohio River, first of white men he voyaged
across the Great Lakes and sailed down the Mississippi to its mouth.
Great explorer, he mapped the country from the St. Lawrence to the
Gulf of Mexico, from the Mississippi to the Atlantic Ocean, and built
frontier-posts in the wilderness. He traveled thousands of miles, and in
1682 he raised the lilies of France near the mouth of the Mississippi
and named the whole territory he had covered _Louisiana_, in honor of
King Louis XIV of France.
The first colony on the Gulf was established seventeen years later at
Biloxi by a Canadian _seigneur_ named Iberville. Soon afterward this
_seigneur's_ brother, Bienville, founded New Orleans and attracted
many French pioneers there. The French proved to be better explorers
than farmers or settlers. In the south they hunted the sources of the
Arkansas and Red Rivers, and discovered the little-known Pawnee and
Comanche Indians. In the north they pressed westward and came in sight
of the Rocky Mountains. At that time it seemed as if France was to own
at least two-thirds of the continent. The English general, Braddock,
was defeated at Fort Duquesne in 1755, and the French commanded the
Ohio as well as the Mississippi; but four years later the English
general, Wolfe, won the victory of the Plains of Abraham near Quebec;
and France's chance was over. Men in Paris who knew little concerning
the new world did not scruple to give away their country's title to
vast lands. The French ceded Canada and all of La Salle's old province
of Louisiana east of the Mississippi, except New Orleans, to England.
Soon afterward France, to outwit England, gave Spain New Orleans and her
claim to the half of the Mississippi Valley west of the river to which
the name Louisiana now came to be restricted.
The French, however, were great adventurers by nature, and Napoleon,
changing the map of Europe, could not keep his fingers from North
America. He planned to win back the New France that had been given
away. Spain was weak, and Napoleon traded a small province in Italy for
the great tract of Louisiana. He meant to colonize and fortify this
splendid empire, but before it could be done enemies gathered against
his eagles at home, and to save his European throne he had to forsake
his western colony.
When Thomas Jefferson became President in 1801, he found the people of
the South and West disturbed at France's repossessing herself of so much
territory. He sent Robert R. Livingston and James Monroe to Paris to try
to buy New Orleans and the country known as the Floridas for $2,000,000.
Instead Napoleon offered to sell not only New Orleans, but the whole
of Louisiana Territory extending as far west as the Rocky Mountains
for $15,000,000. Napoleon insisted on the sale, and the envoys agreed.
Jefferson and the people in the eastern United States were dismayed at
the price paid for what they considered almost worthless land, but the
West was delighted, owning the mouth of the great Mississippi and with
the country beyond it free to them to explore. In time this purchase of
Louisiana, or the territory stretching to the Rocky Mountains, forming
the larger part of what are now thirteen of the states of the Union,
was to be considered one of the greatest pieces of good fortune in the
country's history.
Scarcely anything was known of Louisiana, except the stories told by
a few hunters. Jefferson decided that the region must be explored,
and asked his young secretary, Meriwether Lewis, who had shown great
interest in the new country, to make a path through the wilderness.
Lewis chose his friend William Clark to accompany him, and picked
thirty-two experienced men for their party. May 14, 1804, the expedition
set out in a barge with sails and two smaller boats from a point on the
Missouri River near St. Louis.
The nearer part of this country had already been well explored by
hunters and trappers, and especially by that race of adventurous
Frenchmen who were rovers by nature. These men could not endure
the confining life of towns, and were continually pushing into the
wilderness, driving their light canoes over the waters of the great
rivers, and often sharing the tents of friendly Indians they met. Many
had become almost more Indian than white man,--had married Indian
wives and lived the wandering life of the native. Such a man Captain
Lewis found at the start of his journey, and took with him to act as
interpreter among the Sioux and tribes who spoke a similar language.
The party traveled rapidly at the outset of their journey, meeting small
bands of Indians, and passing one or two widely-separated frontier
settlements. They had to pass many difficult rapids in the river, but as
they were for the most part expert boatmen they met with no mishaps. The
last white town on the Missouri was a little hamlet called La Charrette,
consisting of seven houses, with as many families located there to hunt
and trade for skins and furs. As they went up the river they frequently
met canoes loaded with furs coming down. Day by day they took careful
observations, and made maps of the country through which they were
traveling, and when they met Indians tried to learn the history and
customs of the tribe. Captain Lewis wrote down many of their curious
traditions. The Osage tribe had given their name to a river that flowed
into the Missouri a little more than a hundred miles from its mouth.
There were three tribes of this nation: the Great Osages, numbering
about five hundred warriors; the Little Osages, who lived some six miles
distant from the others, and numbered half as many men; and the Arkansas
band, six hundred strong, who had left the others some time before, and
settled on the Vermillion River. The Osages lived in villages and were
good farmers, usually peaceful, although naturally strong and tireless.
Captain Lewis found a curious tradition as to the origin of their tribe.
The story was that the founder of the nation was a snail, who lived
quietly on the banks of the Osage until a high flood swept him down to
the Missouri, and left him exposed on the shore. The heat of the sun
at length ripened him into a man, but with the change in his nature he
did not forget his native haunts on the Osage, but immediately bent
his way in that direction. He was, however, soon overtaken by hunger
and fatigue, when happily the Great Spirit appeared, and giving him a
bow and arrow showed him how to kill and cook deer, and cover himself
with the skins. He then pushed on to his home, but as he neared it he
was met by a beaver, who inquired haughtily who he was, and by what
authority he came to disturb his possession. The Osage answered that the
river was his own, for he had once lived on its borders. As they stood
disputing, the daughter of the beaver came, and having by her entreaties
made peace between her father and the young stranger, it was proposed
that the Osage should marry the young beaver, and share the banks of
the river with her family. The Osage readily consented, and from this
happy marriage there came the village and the nation of the Wasbasha,
or Osages, who kept a reverence for their ancestors, never hunting the
beaver, because in killing that animal they would kill a brother of the
Osage. The explorers found, however, that since the value of beaver
skins had risen in trade with the white men, these Indians were not so
particular in their reverence for their relatives.
The mouth of the Platte River was reached on July 21st, and the next day
Lewis held a council with the Ottoes and Missouri Indians, and named the
site Council Bluffs. At each of these meetings between Lewis and the
Indians the white man would explain that this territory was now part
of the United States, would urge the tribes to trade with their new
neighbors, and then present them with gifts of medals, necklaces, rings,
tobacco, ornaments of all sorts, and often powder and arms.
The Indians were friendly and each day taught the white men something
new. Both Captain Lewis and Lieutenant Clark had seen much of the red
men on the frontier, but now they were in a land where they found them
in their own homes. They grew accustomed to the round tepees decorated
with bright-colored skins, the necklaces made of claws of grizzly bears,
the head-dresses of eagle feathers, the tambourines, or small drums that
furnished most of their music, the whip-rattles made of the hoofs of
goats and deer, the white-dressed buffalo robes painted with pictures
that told the history of the tribe, the moccasins and tobacco pouches
embroidered with many colored beads. Each tribe differed in some way
from its neighbors. For the first time the explorers found among the
Rickarees eight-sided earth-covered lodges, and basket-shaped boats made
of interwoven boughs covered with buffalo skins.
Game was plentiful as they went farther up the Missouri River. At
first no buffaloes were found, but bands of elk were seen, and large
herds of goats crossing from their summer grazing grounds in the hilly
region west of the Missouri to their winter quarters. Besides these
were antelopes, beavers, bears, badgers, deer, and porcupines, and the
river banks supplied them with plover, grouse, geese, turkeys, ducks,
and pelicans. There were plenty of wild fruits to be had, and they lived
well during the whole of the summer. They traveled rapidly until the
approach of cold weather decided them to establish winter quarters on
October 27th.
They pitched their camp, which they called Fort Mandan, on the eastern
shore of the Missouri, near the present city of Bismarck. They built
some wooden huts, which formed two sides of a triangle, and a row of
pickets on the third side, to provide them with a stockade in case of
attack. They found a trader of the Hudson's Bay Company near by, and
during the winter a dozen other traders visited them. Although they
appeared to be friendly, Captain Lewis was convinced that the traders
had no desire to see this United States expedition push into the
country, and would in fact do all they could to prevent its advance.
The Indians in the neighborhood belonged to the tribes of the Mandans,
Rickarees, and Minnetarees. The first two of these tribes went to war
early in the winter, but peace was made through the efforts of Captain
Lewis. After that all the Indians visited the encampment, bringing
stores of corn and presents of different sorts, in exchange for which
they obtained beads, rings, and cloth from the white men. Here Captain
Lewis learned a curious legend of the Mandan tribe. They believed that
all their nation originally lived in one large village underground
near a subterranean lake, and that a grape-vine stretched its roots
down to their home and gave them a view of daylight. Some of the more
adventurous of the tribe climbed up the vine, and were delighted with
the sight of the earth, which they found covered with buffaloes and
rich with all kinds of fruits. They gathered some grapes and returned
with them to their countrymen, and told them of the charms of the land
they had seen. The others were very much pleased with the story and with
the grapes, and men, women and children started to climb up the vine.
But when only half of them had reached the top a heavy woman broke the
vine by her weight, and so closed the road to the rest of the nation.
Each member of this tribe was accustomed to select a particular object
for his devotion, and call it his "medicine." To this they would offer
sacrifices of every kind. One of the Indians said to Captain Lewis, "I
was lately the owner of seventeen horses; but I have offered them all
up to my 'medicine,' and am now poor." He had actually loosed all his
seventeen horses on the plains, thinking that in that way he was doing
honor to his god.
Almost every day hunting parties left the camp and brought back
buffaloes. The weather grew very cold in December, and several times
the thermometer fell to forty degrees below zero. As spring advanced,
however, the weather became very mild, and as early as April 7, 1805,
they were able to leave their camp at Fort Manden and start on again.
The upper Missouri they found was too shallow for the large barge they
had used the previous summer, so this was now sent back down the river
in charge of a party of ten men who carried letters and specimens,
while the others embarked in six canoes and two large open boats that
they had built during the winter. So far the country through which they
had passed had been explored by a few Hudson's Bay trappers, but as they
now turned westward they came into a region entirely unknown, which they
soon found was almost uninhabited.
The party had by this time three interpreters, one a Canadian half-breed
named Drewyer, who had inherited from his mother the Indian's skill in
woodcraft, and who also knew the language of the white explorers. The
other two were a man named Chaboneau and his wife, a young squaw called
Sacajawea, the "Bird-woman," who had originally belonged to the Snake
tribe, but who had been captured in her childhood by Blackfeet Indians.
This Indian girl had married Chaboneau, a French wanderer, who like
many others of his kind had sunk into an almost savage state. As the
squaw had not forgotten the language of her native people the two white
leaders thought she would prove a valuable help to them in the wild
country westward, and persuaded her and her husband to go on with them.
As the weather was fine the party traveled rapidly, and by April 26th
reached the mouth of the Yellowstone. They were now very far north,
near the northwest corner of what is the state of North Dakota. Game
was still plentiful but the banks of the river were covered with a
coating of alkali salts, which made the water of the streams bitter and
unpleasant for drinking. Occasionally they came upon a deserted Indian
camp, but in this northern territory they found few roving tribes. When
there was a favorable wind they sailed along the Missouri, but most of
the time they had to use their oars. Early in May they drew up their
birch canoes for the night at the mouth of a stream where they found a
large number of porcupines feeding on young willow trees. Captain Lewis
christened the stream Porcupine River. Here there were quantities of
game, and elk and buffalo in abundance, so that it was an easy matter to
provide food for all the party.
Now they were continually coming upon new rivers, many of them broad,
with swift-flowing currents, and all of them appealing to the love of
exploration. The Missouri was their highroad, however, and so they
simply stopped to name the different streams they came to. One they
passed had a peculiar white color, and Captain Lewis called it the Milk
River. The country along this stream was bare for some distance, with
gradually rising hills beyond.
The game here was very plentiful and the buffaloes were so tame that the
men were obliged to drive them away with sticks and stones. The only
dangerous animal was the grizzly bear, a beast that never seemed to know
when he had had enough of a fight. One evening the men in the canoes
saw a large grizzly lying some three hundred paces from the shore. Six
of them landed and hid behind a small hillock within forty paces of the
bear; four of the hunters fired, and each lodged a ball in the bear's
body. The animal sprang up and roared furiously at them. As he came near
them the two hunters who had not yet fired gave him two more wounds,
one of which broke a shoulder, but before they had time to reload their
guns, the bear was so near them that they had to run for the river.
He almost overtook them; two jumped into the canoes; the other four
separated, and hiding in the willows fired as fast as they could reload
their guns. Again and again they shot him, but each time the shots
only seemed to attract his attention toward the hunters, until finally
he chased two of them so closely that they threw away their guns, and
jumped down a steep bank into the river. The bear sprang after them, and
was almost on top of the rear man when one of the others on shore shot
him in the head, and finally killed him. They dragged him to shore, and
found that eight balls had gone through him in different directions. The
hunters took the bear's skin back to camp, and there they learned that
another adventure had occurred. One of the other canoes, which contained
all the provisions, instruments, and numerous other important articles,
had been under sail when it was struck on the side by a sudden squall
of wind. The man at the helm, who was one of the worst navigators of
the party, made the mistake of luffing the boat into the wind. The
wind was so high that it forced the brace of the square-sail out of the
hand of the man who was holding it, and instantly upset the canoe. The
boat would have turned upside down but for the resistance of the canvas
awning. The other boats hastened to the rescue, righted the canoe, and
by baling her out kept her from sinking. They rowed the canoe to shore
and the cargo was saved. Had it been lost the expedition would have been
deprived of most of the things that were necessary for its success, at
a distance of between two and three thousand miles from any place where
they could get supplies.
On May 20th they reached the yellowish waters of the Musselshell River.
A short distance beyond this Captain Lewis caught his first view of
the Rocky Mountains, one of the goals toward which they were tending.
Along the Musselshell the country was covered with wild roses and small
honeysuckle, but soon after they came into a region that was very
bare and dry, where both game and timber were scarce, the mosquitoes
annoying, the noonday sun uncomfortably hot, and the nights very cold.
The Missouri River, along which they were still traveling, was now
heading to the southwest. They were near the border of the present state
of Idaho when they passed several old Indian camps, most of which seemed
to have been deserted for five or six weeks. From this fact they judged
that they were following a band of about one hundred lodges, who were
traveling up the same river. They knew that the Minnetarees of the
Missouri often traveled as far west as the Yellowstone, and presumed
that the Indians ahead of them belonged to that tribe. There were other
evidences of the Indians. At the foot of a cliff they found the bodies
of a great many slaughtered buffaloes, which had been hunted after the
fashion of the Blackfeet. Their way of hunting was to select one of the
most active braves, and disguise him by tying a buffalo skin around his
body, fastening the skin of the head, with ears and horns, over the head
of the brave. Thus disguised the Indian would take a position between a
herd of buffalo and the precipice overlooking a river. The other hunters
would steal back of the herd, and at a given signal chase them. The
buffaloes would run in the direction of the disguised brave, who would
lead them on at full speed toward the river. As he reached the edge he
would quickly hide himself in some crevice or ravine of the cliff, which
he had chosen beforehand, and the herd would be left on the brink. The
buffaloes in front could not stop being driven on by those behind, who
in their turn would be closely pursued by the hunters. The whole herd,
therefore, would usually rush over the cliff, and the hunters could take
their pick of hides and meat in the river below. This method of hunting
was very extravagant, but at that time the Indians had no thought of
preserving the buffaloes. One of the rivers Lewis passed in this region
he named the Slaughter River, on account of this way of hunting.
When the Missouri turned southward the explorers came to many steep
rapids, around which the canoes had to be carried, which made traveling
slow. Often the banks were so steep and the mud so thick that the men
were obliged to take off their moccasins, and much of the time they were
up to their arms in the cold water of the river. But there was a great
deal to charm the eye in the opening spring, even in that bare country.
Lewis found places near the river filled with choke-cherries, yellow
currants, wild roses, and prickly pears in full bloom. In the distance
the mountains, rising in long greenish-blue chains, the tops covered
with snow, invited the travelers to find what lay on the other side of
their ridges.
On June 3d they reached a place where the river divided into two wide
streams, and it became very important to decide which of the two was
the one that the Indians called the Ahmateahza, or Missouri, which they
had said approached very near to the Columbia River. Lewis knew that
the success of his expedition depended largely upon choosing the right
stream, because if, after they had ascended the Rocky Mountains beyond,
they should find that the river they had taken did not bring them near
the Columbia, they would have to return, and thereby would lose a large
part of the summer, which was the only season when they could travel.
For this reason he decided to send out two exploring parties. He himself
made a two days' march up the north branch, and deciding that this was
not the Missouri, he named it Maria's River. As they came back they had
to walk along high cliffs, and at one steep point Captain Lewis slipped,
and, if he had not been able to catch himself with his mountain stick,
would have been thrown into the river. He had just reached a point of
safety when he heard a man behind him call out, "Good God, captain, what
shall I do?" Turning instantly he found that his companion had lost his
footing on the narrow pass, and had slipped down to the very edge of the
precipice, where he lay with his right arm and leg over the cliff, while
with the other arm and leg he was trying to keep from slipping over.
Lewis saw the danger, but calmly told the other to take his knife from
his belt with his right hand, and dig a hole in the side of the bluff in
which to stick his foot. With great presence of mind the man did this,
and getting a foothold, raised himself on his knees. Lewis then told him
to take off his moccasins, and crawl forward on his hands and knees, his
knife in one hand and his rifle in the other. In this manner the man
regained a secure place on the cliff.
Captain Lewis considered that this method of traveling was too
dangerous, and he ordered the rest of the party to wade the river at the
foot of the bluff, where the water was only breast-high. This adventure
taught them the danger of crossing the slippery heights above the
stream, but as the plains were broken by ravines almost as difficult
to pass, they kept on down the river, sometimes wading in the mud
of the low grounds, sometimes in the water, but when that became too
deep, cutting footholds in the river bank with their knives. On that
particular day they traveled through rain, mud, and water for eighteen
miles, and at night camped in a deserted Indian lodge built of sticks.
Here they cooked part of the six deer they had killed in the day's
traveling, and slept on willow boughs they piled inside the lodge.
Many of the party thought that the north fork was the Missouri River,
but Lewis and Clark were both convinced that the south fork was the real
Missouri. They therefore hid their heaviest boat and all the supplies
they could spare, and prepared to push on with as little burden as
possible. A few days later Lewis was proved to be right in his judgment
of the south fork, for on June 13th he came to the Great Falls of the
Missouri. The grandeur of the falls made a tremendous impression on
them all. The river, three hundred yards wide, was shut in by steep
cliffs, and for ninety yards from the left cliff the water fell in a
smooth sheet over a precipice of eighty feet. The rest of the river shot
forward with greater force, and, being broken by projecting rocks, sent
clouds of foam into the air. As the water struck the basin below the
falls it beat furiously against the ledge of rocks that extended across
the river, and Lewis found that for three miles below the stream was one
line of rapids and cascades, overhung by bluffs. Five miles above the
first falls the whole river was blocked by one straight shelf of rock,
over which the water ran in an even sheet, a majestic sight.
This part of the Missouri, however, offered great difficulties to their
travel. The men had now journeyed constantly for several months, and
were in a region of steep falls and rapids. It was clear that they could
not carry the boats on their shoulders for long distances. Fortunately
they found a small creek at the foot of the falls, and by this they were
able to reach the highlands. From there Lieutenant Clark and a few men
surveyed the trail they were to follow, while others hunted and prepared
stores of dried meat, and the carpenter built a carriage to transport
the boats. They found a large cottonwood tree, about twenty-two inches
in diameter, which provided them with the carriage wheels. They decided
to leave one of their boats behind, and use its mast for two axle-trees.
Meantime Clark studied the river and found that a series of rapids
made a perilous descent, and that a portage of thirteen miles would be
necessary. The country was difficult for traveling, being covered with
patches of prickly pears, the needles of which cut through the moccasins
of the men who dragged the boat's carriage. To add to the difficulty,
when they were about five miles from their goal the axle-trees broke,
and then the tongues of green cottonwood gave way. They had to stop
and search for a substitute, and finally found willow trees, which
provided them with enough wood to patch up the boat-carriage. Half a
mile from their new camping place the carriage broke again, and this
time they found it easier to carry boat and baggage than to build a
new conveyance. Captain Lewis described the state of his party at this
portage. "The men," he wrote, "are loaded as heavily as their strength
will permit; the crossing is really painful; some are limping with the
soreness of their feet, others are scarcely able to stand for more than
a few minutes from the heat and fatigue; they are all obliged to halt
and rest frequently, and at almost every stopping place they fall, and
many of them are asleep in an instant."
As they had to go back to the other side of the rapids for the stores
they had left, they were obliged to repair the carriage and cross the
portage again and again. After ten days' work all their stores were
above the falls.
While they were busy making this portage they had several narrow escapes
from attacks by grizzly bears. The bears were so bold that they would
walk into the camp at night, attracted by buffalo meat, and the sleeping
men were in danger from their claws. A tremendous storm added to their
discomfort, and the hailstones were driven so furiously by the high wind
that they wounded some of the men. Before the storm Lieutenant Clark,
with his colored servant York, the half-breed Chaboneau, and his Indian
wife and young child, had taken the road above the falls on their way
to camp when they noticed a very dark cloud coming up rapidly in the
west. Clark hunted about for shelter, and at length found a ravine
protected by shelving rocks under which they could take refuge. Here
they were safe from the rain, and they laid down their guns, compass,
and the other articles they had with them. Rain and hail beat upon their
shelter, and the rain began to fall in such solid sheets that it washed
down rocks and mud from higher up the ravine. Then a landslide started,
but just before the heaviest part of it struck them Lieutenant Clark
seized his gun in one hand, and pushed the Indian woman, her child in
her arms, up the bank. Her husband also caught at her and pulled her
along, but he was so much frightened at the noise and danger that but
for Clark's steadiness he, with his wife and child, would probably have
been lost. As it was, Clark could hardly climb as fast as the water
rose. Had they waited a minute longer they would have been swept into
the Missouri just above the Great Falls. They reached the top in safety,
and there found York, who had left them just before the storm to hunt
some buffalo. They pushed on to camp where the rest of the party had
already taken shelter, and had abandoned all work for that day.
While the men were building a new boat of skins, Captain Lewis spent
much time studying the animals, trees, and plants of the region, making
records of them to take home. Ever since their arrival at the falls
they had heard a strange noise coming from the mountains a little to the
north of west. "It is heard at different periods of the day and night,"
Lewis wrote, "sometimes when the air is perfectly still and without a
cloud, and consists of one stroke only, or of five or six discharges
in quick succession. It is loud, and resembles precisely the sound
of a six-pound piece of ordnance at the distance of three miles. The
Minnetarees frequently mentioned this noise like thunder, which they
said the mountains made; but we paid no attention to it, believing it to
have been some superstition, or perhaps a falsehood. The watermen also
of the party say that the Pawnees and Ricaras give the same account of a
noise heard in the Black Mountains to the westward of them. The solution
of the mystery given by the philosophy of the watermen is, that it is
occasioned by the bursting of the rich mines of silver confined within
the bosom of the mountain."
Early in July the new boat was finished. It was very strong, and yet
could be carried easily by five men. But when it was first launched
they found that the tar-like material with which they had covered the
skins that made the body of the boat would not withstand water, and so
the craft leaked. After trying to repair the boat for several days they
finally decided to abandon it. Putting all their luggage into the canoes
they resumed their journey up the river.
As the canoes were heavily loaded the men who were not needed to paddle
them walked along the shore. The country here was very picturesque. At
times they climbed hills that gave them wide views of open country never
explored by white men; again they waded through fields of wild rye,
reminding them of the farm lands of the East; sometimes their path wound
through forests of redwood trees, and always they could see the high
mountains, still snow-capped. The glistening light on the mountain tops
told the explorers why they were called the Shining Mountains.