PIKE’S VOYAGE UP THE MISSISSIPPI, AND DISCOVERY OF THE SOURCE
OF THE ARKANSAS; THE DISCOVERY OF THE SOURCES OF THE MISSOURI
BY LEWIS AND CLARKE, AND THEIR VOYAGE DOWN THE COLUMBIA
TO THE PACIFIC.
THUS far our heroes have, with few exceptions, been pioneers rather
of Christianity, emigration or commerce, than of discovery properly so
called. Early colonization in America was not, as in Africa, preceded
by scientific exploration. We have no trans-Atlantic Park or Bruce, no
Lander Oudney, or Clapperton; the white martyrs who baptized the soil
of the New World with their blood fell, not in the cause of geography,
but in that of their homes or their religion. Only in the extreme
North have we any romance in American travel which can at all compare
with that so inseparably connected with the winning of each of the
secrets of that sister continent so aptly named the Dark.
The great lakes, rivers, and mountains of America, which we will in
our turn call the “Fair Continent,” were rather found than discovered.
The emigrant, seeking water for his cattle, or timber for his log
hut and his fire, pitched his tent by some vast inland sea or rushing
stream, unconscious that he had done more than choose well for his
immediate temporal needs. Other log huts rose beside his own; the
neighboring lake or river or forest received the name of the first
person who turned its resources to account, or retained a corrupted
form of its original Indian denomination. Peculiarities in the manners,
customs, or appearance of the natives, which would have been full of
significance to men such as Park or Bruce, Livingstone or Stanley,
passed unnoticed by the lonely squatter of the woods, and whole
chapters of discovery were left unwritten by the unconscious agents in
the opening up of new tracks.
Not until the beginning of the present century can we be said to have
possessed a literature of inland North American discovery, and our
narrative has hitherto been culled little by little from piles of
volumes dealing with other subjects than ours, and referring _en
passant_ only to geographical problems. The young states forming
the infant republic had too much to do in welding into one whole the
varied and often incongruous elements of which they were themselves
composed, to be able to pay much attention to the enterprising spirits
who went forth from among them to found new homes in the wilderness.
But when the turbulent infancy was over, and what we may call the
young manhood of America began under the enlightened guidance of the
great Washington, first President of the United States, a new era of
discovery was ushered in. The republic, no longer content with its
ignorance of the course of its rivers, the height of its mountains,
and the resources of its vast tracts of prairie and forest lands,
began the organization of exploring expeditions. The first of these
was that sent out, under Major Pike, in 1805, with instructions
“to explore the Upper Mississippi, to inquire into the nature and
extent of the fur-trade, with the residence and population of the
several Indian nations, and to make every effort to conciliate their
friendship.”
Pike embarked on the Mississippi at Fort Louis, a little below the
mouth of the Missouri, on the 9th August, 1805, in a keel-boat about
seventy feet long, accompanied by an escort of twenty soldiers, and
after successfully navigating the somewhat difficult current, then
much impeded by sandbars, he reached the mouth of the Missouri in
safety. Above its junction with its chief affluent, the name of
which signifies the Mud River, the course of the Father of Waters is
comparatively smooth, and no incident of importance occurred till, on
the 6th September, the mouth of the Wisconsin was reached, where the
arduous portion of the young officer’s work began.
Illustration: SIOUX VILLAGE.
Having obtained guides at the Indian village of Prairie des Chiens,
then an important outpost of the French fur-trade, Pike continued the
ascent of the great river till he came to the mouth of the Iowa. Here
he was met by a party of Sioux or Dacotah Indians, whose chief gave
him a hearty welcome, assuring him that the redskins had tried to keep
themselves sober in his honor. In this, says Pike, they had not been
very successful, and in their unsteady gait and wild salute of three
rounds of ball fired at random, to the great risk of their guests, the
young leader noted some of the first symptoms of the fatal effect of
the influence of the whites on the once simple and manly natives. At a
dinner of a semi-civilized description, the Sioux chief gave Pike the
pipe of peace, telling him that it would insure his friendly reception
among the “upper bands” of his tribes, and begging him to try and
bring about peace between his people and the Minnesota Indians of the
East.
Thanking his host for the pipe of peace, the power of which had
already been proved by his French predecessors on the Mississippi, and
promising to do his best with the Minnesotas, Pike pursued his way,
between hilly country and prairies dotted with the encampments of the
Sioux, till he came to the mouth of the majestic Chippeway on the east,
succeeded, a few miles further up, by the yet more beautiful Minnesota,
or St. Peters River, on the west.
The explorers were now approaching the summit of the central table
land of the North American continent, where, 1,680 feet above the
sea-level, are situated the sources alike of the St. Lawrence, the
Mississippi, and the Red River of the North, the three great arteries,
bound, the first for the Atlantic Ocean, the second for the Gulf of
Mexico, and the third for Hudson’s Bay. As the common home of the
infant streams was neared, the navigation of the Mississippi became
more difficult, the river between the mouth of the Minnesota and the
Falls of St. Anthony consisting of a series of rapids dashing over
huge rocks encumbering the bed of the stream. Pike persevered, however,
in his work of navigation, his little bark experiencing many a narrow
escape in its passage between the frowning precipices, until the Falls
themselves were reached, when he was compelled to leave his own boat
and take to small canoes.
For four miles above the Falls, in the grandeur of which Pike owned
himself a little disappointed, all went well, but the remainder of the
trip was fraught with difficulties and dangers of every description.
Again and again the travelers were compelled to disembark, and wading
through the water, often not a foot above the rocks, drag their boats
after them, while every now and then some wild Sioux warrior would
appear upon the beetling heights shutting in the now restricted Father
of Waters, and brandish his spear above the heads of the defenseless
whites.
On the 4th October the mouth of the Crow River was passed on the
west, and the first signs of dangers of a new description were noted
in the wrecks, lying here and there of bark canoes, cut to pieces
with tomahawks, and with broken paddles and arrows lying near. Pike’s
interpreter told him that the canoes were of Sioux and the arrows of
Minnesota construction, pointing to the conclusion that war was raging
hotly close at hand. Further examination of the relics revealed marks
on the paddles of the canoes signifying that Indian men and women had
been killed, and the guide was eager in urging retreat, on the ground
that their party would be taken for Sioux invaders, and be cut to
pieces at the first Chippeway village before any explanation could be
given. Only a little time before, three Frenchmen who had ventured up
the river had been murdered by the Chippeways; surely the white man
would not risk sharing their fate?
But the white man, true to his English blood, was not to be
intimidated, and pressed on in spite of all difficulties, till, about
two hundred and thirty miles above the Falls, in N. lat. 45°, his
men began to drop from fatigue and the severity of the cold. It was
evidently impossible to proceed further by water, and Pike realized,
now that it was too late, how fatal a mistake had been made in
starting so late in the season. After consultation with his party,
it was resolved to leave a small detachment with the bulk of the
provisions in a log fort, and proceed in sledges with the hardiest
of the men to the sources of the Mississippi.
The fort was built with infinite difficulty, and it was not until
mid-winter that the sledge journey was begun. Following the course
of the Mississippi, now dwindled down to a small stream, scarcely
three hundred yards wide, creeping sluggishly along through a flat,
uninteresting country――its wide snow-clad stretches tenanted only by
troops of elks, with here and there traces of recent conflict between
the Indians of the North and the Sioux of the South――the pioneers
reached the mouth of the Pine River, flowing from Leech Lake――the most
southerly of the cluster of small reservoirs forming the sources of
the great river――on the last day of the year.
Here a deserted Chippeway encampment of fifty wigwams――or lodges,
as they are called in this part of the country――was found, the marks
about it, as interpreted by the Sioux guide, signifying that fifty
warriors had recently marched against their enemies and killed four
men and four women. The quaint record of the conflict consisted of
four painted poles, sharpened at the ends to represent the women,
placed about four cedar puppets representing the men, the whole
inclosed in a rough circle of poles, hung with deer-skins, plumes,
silk handkerchiefs, etc.
A little beyond this strange monument, Pike’s party were overtaken
by some Chippeways, accompanied by a Frenchman and an Englishman.
They were at first about to discharge their arrow’s, but, recognizing
the American flag, they desisted, and gave the explorers all
the information in their power. On the following day, Grant, the
Englishman, and a member of the North-west Company, took Pike to his
house on Red Cedar Lake, one of the sources of the Mississippi, and
the young American’s wrath was greatly excited on seeing the English
flag waving from the roof. Somewhat mollified on hearing that the flag
was the property of the Indians, having been taken in some skirmish,
Pike resumed his journey under the guidance of a Chippeway warrior
named Curly Head, and arrived, on the 13th January, 1806, at another
establishment of the North-west Company on Sandy Lake, where he was
hospitably received.
A tour of the lake was successfully made, with the aid of some of
the hardy agents of the North-west Company, and its latitude was
determined to be 49° 9′ 20″ N. Leaving this, the second of the sources
of the Mississippi, on the 21st January, our hero started for Leech
Lake, with a young Indian as guide, and after a most arduous journey
on foot in snow shoes, such as are worn by the Indians, on the 1st
February he reached that important and central point, long supposed
to be the main source of the Father of Waters. Here, as on Red Cedar
and Sandy Lakes, he found agents of the great North-west Company
established in a well-built fort, and learned from them that from
what are called the Forks of the Mississippi the right branch bears
north-west, entering Lake Winnipeg eight miles further north, and
beyond that again running to Upper Red Cedar Lake, a distance of
eight miles; while the left branch, called that of Leech Lake, bears
south-west, and runs through a chain of meadows to the De Corbeau
River, with which, and with the Red River of the North, it is
connected by a series of portages.
Unable, owing to the lateness of the season, to test the accuracy
of the information obtained, Pike was reluctantly compelled to turn
back after making a survey of Leech Lake; and it was not until many
years afterward that the journeys of Cass and Schoolcraft corrected
the mistaken assumption that Leech Lake was the main source of the
Mississippi.
Before turning his back on Leech Lake, however, Pike obeyed the
second clause of his instructions by summoning a council of Chippeway
warriors, on whom he urged the conclusion of peace with the Sioux,
inviting some of them to return with him to St. Louis. He succeeded
in both these objects, though the latter was only brought about after
much persuasion. As was natural, the Chippeways were not over-eager
to trust themselves in the Sioux country; but when Pike exclaimed at
the close of the interview, “What! are there no soldiers at Leech,
Red, and Rainy Lakes who have the heart to carry the calumet of
peace for their Father?” two celebrated young warriors, bearing the
extraordinary names of the Buck and the Beau, sprang forward to offer
their services. They were eagerly accepted, and adopted as Pike’s
children. We are happy to be able to add that their young “father”
allowed them to have no reason to regret their decision, but that they
arrived with him in safety at St. Louis, after a successful return
voyage down the Mississippi.
Soon after his arrival at St. Louis, after this fairly successful
trip, Pike was again sent out on an exploratory expedition; this
time with orders to survey the regions south of the Missouri, and
to trace the Arkansas and Red Rivers, already known as tributaries
of the Mississippi, to their sources in the far West.
The exploring party, which consisted of twenty-three members,
including a surgeon and an interpreter, started on this second journey
on the 15th July, 1806, taking with them a number of Indians belonging
to the Osage and Pawnee tribes, who had been redeemed from captivity
among the Potawatomies, and were now to be restored to their friends.
Ascending the Missouri in two boats, the mixed company reached, on
the 26th July, the Osage River, which, flowing from the south, pours
its vast bulk of waters into the Missouri. Here they were received
with eager, though quiet enthusiasm by the natives, and a touching
scene ensued between the relatives restored to each other through the
mediation of the white men.
The Osage Indians, dwelling in the fair country on either side of
the beautiful river named after them, seem to have attained to a rare
degree of civilization, possessing a kind of republic, presided over
by a small body of chiefs, whose resolutions required the ratification
of a selected council of warriors. Pike and his white companions were
feasted with grain, beans and pumpkins, the number of entertainments
being rather embarrassing, as it was considered etiquette to taste of
every thing offered.
Leaving the friendly Osage Indians still rejoicing over the return of
the captives, Pike now struck across the country in a south-easterly
direction for the Arkansas River, passing the mouth of the Platte and
Kansas, both minor tributaries of the Missouri, on whose banks dwelt
the Pawnee Indians, a race differing but little, if at all, from the
Osages. After an arduous march through a mountainous country, the
dividing range between the Kansas and Arkansas Rivers was crossed
on the 14th October, and late on the same day a branch of the latter
river was reached.
On Sunday, the 19th October, the Arkansas itself was first sighted,
and, crossing it in canoes, constructed on the spot under his own
superintendence, the gallant young leader proceeded to carry out the
instructions he had received, by tracing its course through all its
devious windings, in what was then an untrodden wilderness, tenanted
chiefly by buffalo, elk, deer, and wild horses.
Being totally unprepared for the great length of the river between
its junction with the Mississippi in north latitude 34° 54′ and
west longitude 91° 10′, or for the severity of the climate, as
its birthplace in the Rocky Mountains on the borders of Utah was
approached in mid-winter, the explorers endured very great hardships.
The head of the Arkansas River was reached late in December, and was
found to be no less than 192 miles west of its outlet from the mighty
ridge dividing the rivers flowing into the Pacific from those which
find their final home in the Arctic Ocean, Hudson’s Bay, or the Gulf
of Mexico.
Footsore, weary, and half-starved though he and his followers were,
Pike paused but long enough to ascertain the exact position of the
source of the Arkansas, before he struck across country to work out
the second portion of the problem given to him to solve, namely,
how and where did the most southerly of the western branches of the
Mississippi rise, and what was its course before entering the now
well-known lowlands of Louisiana?
Under the impression that the Red River must spring into being almost
simultaneously with, and certainly at no very great distance from, its
sister tributary the Arkansas, the young commander led his exhausted
men in a southerly direction, and presently came upon a broad stream
flowing in a south-easterly direction. Surely this must be what he was
seeking; and, elated at the rapidity of his imaginary success, Pike
erected a fort on the banks of the newly-found river, in token that it
henceforth belonged to the United States. The next step was to embark
on the stream, which, as the explorers hoped, would soon bring them
down to the outpost of Natchitoches, near its junction with the Father
of Waters.
All went well for several days. Visits from Spaniards from the South
only served to strengthen the impression that the Red River was found,
but on the 26th February a terrible revelation was made by the arrival
of a party of Europeans from Santa Fé, one of the Spanish stations in
New Mexico, who informed Pike that a party of Utah Indians, members of
the great untamed Shoshone family, were about to attack him, and that
he was infringing the laws of the Mexican Government by navigating the
Rio Bravo del Norte without permission.
The report of the intentions of the Utahs seems scarcely to have
troubled Pike, but at the mention of the Rio Bravo del Norte, he
exclaimed, “What! is not this the Red River?” “No, sir,” replied
the spokesman of the detachment from Santa Fé; “it is the Rio del
Norte.” “Immediately,” adds Pike in his own account of this bitter
disappointment, “I ordered my flag to be taken down and rolled up,
feeling how sensibly I had committed myself.”
He was right; the Spaniards had come out to make the intruders their
prisoners, for New Mexico, Arizona, and Texas had not yet been ceded
to the United States. In vain Pike pleaded that he had been acting in
ignorance; he and his people were compelled to accompany the escort to
Santa Fé, and though they were treated most courteously and hospitably,
rather as guests than as captives, all hope of reaching the Red River
had to be abandoned.
After a detention of some months at Santa Fé, already a fine city,
situated among the Rocky Mountains on a plain 1,047 feet above the
sea-level, the Americans were sent back to their own territory by a
circuitous route through New Mexico and Texas, which, though then as
now tenanted by the wild and predatory Navajoe, Apache, Utah, Comanche,
and other tribes, they found to be traversed by fairly good roads made
for the use of missionaries and miners, who had now for more than two
centuries been at work in these western wilds.
Pike arrived at Natchitoches on the Red River on the 1st July, after
an absence of one year from the United States, and we hear no more of
him as an explorer. The work done by him was, however, but the prelude,
or rather――as much of it was simultaneous with that of the heroes
we are now about to join――the accompaniment of the more extensive
expedition under Captains Lewis and Clarke, sent out by the American
Government in May, 1804, with orders to explore the Missouri, the
chief of all the affluents of the Mississippi, to its source, and then
to make their way by the shortest route to the first navigable water
on the western side, which they were to trace to the shores of the
Pacific.
Illustration: CAPTAIN LEWIS BEHOLDING THE MISSOURI.
The new expedition, consisting of some forty-five members――sixteen
only of whom were, however, to go the whole distance――and provided
with one keel-boat and two open boats, started up the Missouri on the
16th May, 1804. The French outposts of St. Charles and La Charette,
in the present state of Missouri, were passed, the exact positions of
the mouths of the Osage, Kansas, and Platte tributaries were noted,
and the unknown districts occupied by the Ottoe Indians were entered
in July. Here the American explorers held a meeting with a number of
Ottoe chiefs, who expressed themselves pleased that their land now
belonged to the white men from the East instead of the French, and
added the naïve hope that their father, President Jefferson, would
send them arms to defend themselves from their enemies, and hunt game
for themselves and their little ones.
Beyond the mouth of the Platte, or Nebraska, the work of surveying
the Missouri became extremely arduous, on account of its many and
sudden windings. On one side lay the picturesque prairie and forest
lands of Iowa, with its rugged ravines and striking bluffs; on the
other the vast plain of Nebraska, sloping gradually upward to the
Rocky Mountains. Now in Iowa, now in Nebraska, the party steadfastly
followed the course of the fickle river, and toward the close of
August they came to the mouth of the Sioux River, on the borders of
Dacotah, where they found themselves on comparatively familiar ground,
the Dacotah or Sioux warriors having long been on friendly terms,
alike with the Americans from the East and the French from the North.
A little above the mouth of the Sioux the Missouri makes a sudden and
abrupt detour to the west, known as the Great Bend, following which
our heroes were proceeding to traverse Dacotah, when, on the 25th
September, a difficulty for the first time occurred with the natives,
some of whom declared that the expedition should proceed no further.
The large boat was waiting in the middle of the river for Captain
Clarke, who had gone on shore with five of his men, when a party
of Indians gathered about the small detachment with bent bows and
threatening gestures. It was a critical moment, but, fortunately
for the Americans, a signal given by Clarke to the soldiers in the
boat was seen and understood. Twelve men jumped from it into one of
the smaller boats, and, supported by this reënforcement, the Captain
lowered his weapons, advanced to the leader of the Indians, and
offered his hand. It was not accepted, but, surprised at this sudden
movement, the Indians paused in the very act of drawing their bows to
see what might be the meaning of the white man’s strange behavior.
Finding his proffered hand rejected, perhaps because the red men had
not yet learned the significance of its offer, Clarke turned his back
on his assailants, and, surrounded by his men, walked quietly back to
his boat. He was allowed to embark and put off unmolested, but before
the large vessel was reached, the native warriors had decided that he
was a man to be feared and courted. Four of the boldest, therefore,
jumped into the Missouri, waded to the boat, and with many quaint and
touching gestures offered their friendship to their white brother.
It was accepted, as a matter of course; the four representatives
were allowed to go up the river for some little distance in the big
boat, the like of which they had never seen before; and the next day
a grand meeting of the Sioux was held, at which the whites were most
hospitably entertained, though most of the speeches in their honor
wound up with petitions for presents.
After a thorough examination of the Great Bend, which has been
justly characterized as one of the most remarkable features of the
Missouri, forming, as it does, a circuit of some thirty miles, Lewis
and Clarke led their men in a north-westerly direction to the mouth
of the Cheyenne or Skyenne, just below the 45th parallel of north
latitude, where they were met by a French trader, who informed them
that the previous winter he had penetrated to the Black Mountains,
three hundred leagues to the westward, proving our assertion at the
beginning of this chapter, that the first exploration of America was
accomplished, as it were, unconsciously.
Early in October the travelers entered the districts occupied by
the Mandans, a native tribe holding some very peculiar notions with
regard to the powers of the Great Spirit, whom they also called
the Great Medicine, recognizing his agency in every cure of ill,
whether physical, mental or temporal. Unfortunately, in spite of this
strangely advanced creed, the Mandans were a degraded and dissolute
race, ready to give and equally ready to take offense; the tomahawk
being the usual weapon resorted to for revenge.
In spite of the unpromising character of the people among whom they
found themselves, the American leader resolved, as the season was now
so far advanced, to build a fort in the Mandan country in which to
spend the winter, and to resume their task with fresh ardor in the
ensuing spring. The friendship of the Mandans and of the Minnetarees,
dwelling in the highlands of Minnesota on the east, was conciliated by
presents, etc., and a site chosen for the fort in N. lat. 47°. Aided
by the advice and assistance of a number of the English Hudson’s Bay
Company, and of a Canadian Frenchman who had spent some time among the
Cheyenne Indians, the soldiers quickly constructed, not only a fort
for their protection, but a number of cabins for their comfort; and
the whole of the winter was passed in studying the ways of the natives,
hunting, etc., the monotony of the residence in the spot being often
relieved by visits from French or Canadian fur-traders, from whom much
valuable information was obtained.
Early in April of the ensuing year, 1805, the camp at Fort Mandan, as
the temporary settlement had been called, was broken up, and the party,
now numbering thirty-two, and with their means of navigation increased
to eight boats and canoes, once more embarked on the Missouri. To aid
in intercourse with the Shoshone or Snake Indians of Montana, Idaho,
and Oregon, two interpreters were secured, namely, George Drewyer and
Toussaint Chabornæan, the latter of whom was accompanied by his wife,
a young Snake woman who had been taken prisoner by his tribe some time
before.
Illustration: YELLOWSTONE LAKE.
On the 13th April the mouth of the Little Missouri was passed, and
on the 26th that of the rapid Yellowstone River, from Sublette’s Lake
in the Rocky Mountains. From this great landmark the course of the
Missouri――and, as a result, of the explorers――was due west, and the
character, alike of the scenery, the fauna, and the flora, changed
perceptibly. In the journals from which our narrative is culled, we
find notes on the strange appearance presented by banks and sandbars
covered with salt, looking like frost; on the white and red “bluffs,”
probably rich in minerals, on either side of the stream; and most
interesting of all, on meetings of frequent occurrence with white or
brown bears. On more than one occasion, Captain Lewis almost lost his
life in encounters with these formidable creatures. His first escape
was from a white bear, one of two which suddenly appeared in his path
when he was on shore with only one hunter, and which, though badly
wounded, pursued him for a long distance.
On another occasion Lewis went in pursuit of a brown bear, which had
been wounded by some of his men, and found the poor creature lying in
a kind of bed in the earth, two feet deep and five feet long, which he
had scooped out for himself after receiving his death blow. Lewis put
an end to his agonies by firing through his skull, and in his account
of the matter he speaks in terms of high admiration of the courage and
intelligence displayed by all the brown bears he had opportunities of
watching.
In the different journals kept by various members of this great
expedition, our readers who love sporting adventures will find many
another fascinating anecdote of a similar kind to the two we have
selected; but, with our heroes, we must press on for the West, pausing,
as they did, on the 3d of June, 1805, at a spot some miles above the
mouth of the Yellowstone, where the Missouri divides into two great
channels, or forks, as they are called in America. Thus far, all had
been successful. The course of the Missouri had been carefully traced,
and something had been learned of that of every great tributary; but
now a mistake would be fatal. From what the natives said, the leaders
of the expedition were convinced that one of these two channels led to
the sources, not only of the Missouri, but also of the Columbia, that
great river of the West first, as we believe, discovered by Viscaino
in 1602, though the honor due to him has been given to a certain
Captain Gray, of Boston, who, in 1792, entered the mouth of the mighty
stream when on a trading expedition, and gave it the name it still
retains, after his own vessel.
The camp was pitched below the junction of the two forks, and an
earnest consultation held as to which of the two channels should now
be followed. The one flowing from the north was narrower but deeper
than that from the south, and its waters were of the brown, turbid
character which had already earned for the Missouri its name of the
Mud River. Surely this northern branch must be the true Missouri!
So urged all the members of the expedition, except the two leaders,
who, judging more scientifically than their men, were of opinion that,
though broader, the southerly branch, with its clear and transparent
current, was more likely to have come from the rocky home assigned by
all the natives to the great tributary under survey.
Illustration: VIEW IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.
The men, though unconvinced of the justice of their superiors’ opinion,
yielded at once; and after a cursory examination of the northern
branch, it was resolved to follow the more southerly. The natives of
every district traversed, and the traders who had visited the western
coast, had agreed in describing some very magnificent falls formed by
the Missouri at no very great distance from its source. The finding of
these falls would therefore be the final proof that the river was the
true Missouri, and Captain Lewis now hurried forward with a few men,
in the hope of solving all doubt before the main body started from the
junction.
A march of a couple of days brought the pioneers to a lofty ridge,
from which they had their first view of the Rocky Mountains――that
grand continuation of the Cordilleras of Mexico, which forms a kind
of backbone to North America, and is the common ancestral home of the
rivers of the far West, and of many of those whose last resting-places
are in the extreme North or the Gulf of Mexico. Twelve miles beyond
the ridge, a short halt was made, on account of the illness of Captain
Lewis, and on the ensuing day, June 13, as the party were leisurely
proceeding on their way in a southerly direction, the leader heard a
sound which made him forget his weakness, in the hope that the Falls
were now within a short distance.
Hastening in the direction of the “roar,” the explorers soon came in
sight of what looked at first like a column of smoke, but which turned
out to be spray driven by the wind; and seven miles from the spot
where the sound of the falling had been first heard, they came upon
the magnificent cataracts, second only in beauty to those of Niagara.
Sending back a man with the joyful news of his discovery to Captain
Clarke, Captain Lewis now proceeded to examine the Falls, and to his
delighted surprise he found that the scene which had so impressed him
on his first arrival was, as it were, but the opening chapter of a
series of rapids and cascades extending over a distance of no less
than sixteen miles and a-half. Above what our hero named the Crooked
Falls, on account of the rugged and irregular nature of the rocks
over which the water dashes, the river makes a sudden bend to the
north, and as Lewis was following its course, he heard a roar as of
a continuous discharge of musketry above his head.
Turning rapidly to ascertain its cause, the leader, after traversing a
few hundred yards only, reached the culminating point in the panorama.
A huge shelving rock, with a surface unbroken by any irregularity,
rises up as if by magic from the bed of the river, which dashes over
the obstacle in an uninterrupted sheet of water, and is received in
a ravine of picturesque beauty, between the rugged sides of which it
foams and rages, as if in despair at the result of the effort made in
its stupendous leap.
In the very moment of this great and significant success, when the
triumphant conclusion of the expedition had become almost a certainty,
Captain Lewis had yet another narrow escape in an encounter with
a brown bear. Absorbed in the examination of the beauties around
him, he had forgotten that, though as yet unknown to civilization,
the neighborhood was already tenanted by many a formidable foe to
the explorer; and he had forgotten even to load his rifle, which
was hanging useless in his hand, when he suddenly became aware that
a large brown bear was advancing stealthily upon him. There was
nothing for it but flight; for what could an unarmed man do against so
terrible an antagonist? Captain Lewis therefore made for the nearest
tree as fast as his legs would carry him, but, finding the bear gained
rapidly upon him, it struck him that the river would be a safer refuge.
Into the Missouri, therefore, he plunged, and, standing in it waist
deep, he confronted the bear, holding before him the weapon known as
an expontoon.
Illustration: GRIZZLY BEAR.
The bear duly arrived at the water’s edge, and the Captain’s fate
seemed sealed; but at that critical moment, for some reason never
explained, the huge quadruped took alarm, turned tail, and ran up the
bank with greater haste than dignity, turning about every now and then
as if fearful of being pursued.
This terrible danger escaped, Lewis resumed his examination of the
surrounding scenery, and when, a couple of days later, he was joined
by Clarke and his men, it was resolved that no time should be lost in
continuing the ascent of the Missouri. It being absolutely impossible,
however, to take the boats over the Falls, a considerable delay
occurred before any arrangement could be made for transporting the
baggage. A skin-boat, the frame of which had been brought in readiness,
was first put together, but it was found altogether inadequate to the
purpose for which it was intended; and under the direction of Clarke,
eight strong canoes were finally constructed, in which such luggage as
could not be dispensed with was packed. The remainder of the luggage
was then concealed in a deep hole called a _cache_, or deposit, which
was carefully closed to protect it from the Indians and white bears
which haunted the neighborhood of the Falls, and which would certainly
have made strange havoc among the valuable books, specimens of plants,
drawings, etc., had they come upon them unexpectedly.
Before the end of June, all was ready. The canoes admirably answered
the purpose for which they were intended, and the voyage was resumed
in the highest spirits. Little progress had been made, however, when
Captain Clarke missed some geographical notes he had taken, and turned
back, accompanied by his servant York, the interpreter Chabornæan,
and the latter’s wife and child. To retrace his steps for the sake
of making sure of a few facts seemed a simple enough proceeding,
yet in so doing Clarke ran a risk of never completing his journey.
On his arrival at the Falls, a terrible storm came on, and he took
refuge with his party beneath some shelving rocks in a ravine hard by,
thinking to resume his walk in an hour or so. As he waited, however,
a torrent of rain and hail suddenly seemed to collect in a solid mass,
and poured into the ravine in a strong current, bringing with it huge
fragments of rocks, uprooted trees, and all manner of _debris_. There
was not a moment to lose; the Captain seized his gun, and, pushing
before him the Indian woman, who had caught her child up from the net
in which it lay at her feet, he sprang up the ravine, closely followed
by Chabornæan. So sudden was the rise of the water, that it was up
to Clarke’s waist before he gained the bank; and as he turned to look
back on reaching that refuge, he saw the whole ravine filled, and the
net from which the child had been rescued whirled rapidly out of sight.
An instant’s hesitation, and the whole party would have been swept
down the Great Falls.
Returning in haste to his camp after this miraculous escape, Clarke
found that his companions had suffered terribly in the storm. Many of
the men were bleeding from wounds received from the hail; and after
the rain and wind had ceased, the heat had been so excessive that even
strong soldiers had succumbed to it. Some men sent back next day to
look for Clarke’s gun, compass and umbrella, which he had left behind
in his hasty retreat, found only the compass, covered with mud and
sand, at the mouth of the ravine, and reported that huge rocks now
choked up what had been an empty defile when the leader’s party had
taken refuge in it.
Beyond the Great Falls the navigation of the Missouri was extremely
arduous. The channel was often narrow, and much obstructed by shallows,
inlets, and impediments of every description. Here and there, some
village perched on a bluff overlooking the stream broke the almost
solemn loneliness of the scene; but the quaint booths composing these
villages were chiefly deserted, their owners, the Snakes or Shoshones,
spending the greater part of their time in hunting. Onward, however,
pressed the eight canoes, and about the middle of July the first spurs
of the Rocky Mountains were reached, hemming in the river ever more
and more, sometimes even almost shutting it in from light and air,
so closely did the perpendicular cliffs on either side approach each
other.
On the 19th July, the grand range of rocks from which the Missouri
issues, forming one of the most magnificent mountain passes of the
world, was reached, and the first part of the journey may be said
to have been performed. Naming the pass the “Gates” of the Rocky
Mountains, our heroes made their way through it in their canoes, each
stroke of the paddle revealing fresh beauties and ever-increasing
solemnity. “The convulsion of the passage,” says Rees, alluding to
the first breaking forth of the Missouri from its mountain cradle,
“must have been terrible, since at its outlet there are vast columns
of rock torn from the mountain, which are strewed on both sides of the
river――the trophies, as it were, of the victory.”
The Gates of the Rocky Mountains form a gorge of between five and six
miles long, and beyond it the scenery is of very great beauty. Anxious
now to reach the sources of the Missouri and the headwaters of the
Columbia, Lewis and Clarke paused but to note the chief features of
the neighborhood, and shortly reached a spot where the great river
they had followed so far divides into three forks. To these they
gave the names of Jefferson, Madison and Gallatin, after three great
politicians of the young republic, and, after some hesitation between
them, selected the first, flowing in a south-westerly direction, as
the most likely to be the true Missouri. The event proved that they
were right. The Jefferson led them through the very central recesses
of the Rocky Mountains, and on the 12th August, 1805, a small gap
between the lofty mountainous ridges was reached, from which issued
the springhead of the mighty Missouri.
The exact position of the source of the river, the course of which
they had followed for no less than 3,000 miles, was carefully noted by
the explorers, and found to be N. lat. 45°, W. long. 112°; and, after
congratulating each other on the great success achieved, the journey
was resumed with fresh ardor and enthusiasm.
It was now of the utmost importance to obtain guides, as the
expedition was totally at a loss as to the direction to be taken
to reach the Columbia. Traces had again and again been seen of the
encampments of Snake Indians, and a fairly good native road traversed
the mountains; but the red men had evidently heard rumors of the
approach of the pale skins, those scourges from the South and East
who had already driven so many tribes westward.
In the absence of guides, it was decided to follow the Indian road
to the summit of the mountains; and the same day which witnessed
the discovery of the source of the Missouri, was also the date of
the first visit of white men to the summit of the ridge forming the
watershed between the Pacific and the central table-lands of North
America. Pausing but a few minutes to gaze upon the wonderful panorama
stretching away to the South Sea, for which so many previous explorers
had sought in vain, the Americans began the descent of the Rocky
Mountains, and at a distance of about three-quarters of a mile from
their summit, they came to a small “creek of clear water running to
the westward.” Subsequent observations proved this to be the Columbia;
but, unable without assistance to be sure of its identity with the
second river to be explored, the leaders of the party still followed
the Indian road, and on the 13th July were rewarded for their patience
by coming upon a small party of Indians, who fled at their approach.
Eagerly giving chase, Captain Lewis and several of his men
succeeded――though the men escaped――in surprising a woman and a little
girl, who, recognizing the hopelessness of getting away, sat down on
the ground and bent their heads, ready for the death-blow which they
thought they must expect from the strangers. Greatly touched by this
pathetic action, Lewis laid down his weapons, and, taking the woman by
the hand, made signs to her that she was to be unharmed. She appeared
to understand him, and, giving her a few trifling presents, the leader
persuaded her to go and fetch another woman who had been with her when
he first came in sight of the party. In a few minutes the two returned,
and, after painting the cheeks of his three captives with vermilion, a
sign among the Snake Indians of peace, Lewis induced them to lead him
to their camp, that he might confer with their chiefs.
After a march of two miles, with the Indians leading the way, a troop
of some sixty warriors, mounted on good horses, was sighted. The
mediators hastened to meet the chief, explaining who the white men
were, and a scene of some absurdity ensued, the Indians embracing the
Americans, and covering them with grease and paint. This wild welcome
was succeeded by the smoking of a pipe of peace in common, Captain
Lewis first taking a whiff and then passing it round to his hosts.
The friendship between the Snakes and Americans thus ratified, the
chiefs conducted their white brothers to their camp, where a grand
consultation was held as to the best means of reaching the Columbia,
and tracing its course to the Pacific.
The information given was not very satisfactory. The river, said the
Indians, flowed through a country where timber for building canoes
and food for filling the stomach were alike scarce. No one cared to
undertake the task of guiding the explorers on their perilous journey,
and although, after a good deal of persuasion and bribery, ten men
were induced to promise their assistance, it was in such a grudging
fashion as to promise but little success.
At this juncture a touching incident occurred. The wife of Chabornæan,
the interpreter, who, it will be remembered, was a Snake by birth,
entered the camp, and, recognizing her brother in the chief, she
flung herself into his arms, and with many tears sobbed out her joy
at finding him still alive. The accounts given by the restored captive
of the kindness of the white men, their faithfulness and generosity to
those who trusted them, and their power to avenge themselves on those
who deceived them, were fruitful of the best results. The chief of
the Snakes consented to send help to the main body of the expedition,
which had not yet scaled the heights of the Rocky Mountains, and while
preparations were being made for the advance of the whole party to the
Pacific, Captain Clarke was provided with guides for a trial trip to
the Columbia.
Mounted on a fine horse, lent to him by an Indian, Clarke quickly
reached the river, though the mountains to be traversed were rugged
and broken in the extreme; but here the difficulties in tracing
the course of the Columbia became so great, that it was evidently
impossible to do so without spending the whole of the remainder of the
year in the neighborhood. So far as we can make out from the various
accounts of his expedition, Clarke did not actually reach any of the
headwaters of the Columbia, which are situated between N. lat. 54° and
42°, but he made a sufficiently thorough survey of the mountains from
which the more northerly of its two branches proceeds, to convince
himself of the identity of that branch with the river of Viscaino
and Gray. A result of this trial trip of secondary importance was
that the leader recognized the hopelessness of attempting to descend
the Columbia in canoes, and on his return to the Indian camp, it was
agreed that a detour should be made in a northerly direction, so as
to strike the river below the mountain pass from which it flows on its
way to join its sister stream in N. lat. 46° 5′, W. long. 118° 55′.
On the 23d August the expedition was once more en route. The sources
of the Missouri had been discovered, the position of those of the
Columbia determined, and the country between the two traversed more
than once. All, therefore, that now remained to be done was to trace
the great river of the West to the Pacific. Accompanied by a number
of Shoshone guides, the Americans made their way toward the ocean by a
rugged Indian path, halting now at one, now at another Indian village;
and after much wandering to and fro, with terrible sufferings from
cold and hunger, they entered a district inhabited by a people calling
themselves Ootlashoots, who turned out to be members of one of the
numerous inland Columbian tribes who inhabit the regions on the
Pacific between N. lat. 52° 30′ and 45°.
After leaving the Ootlashoots, the explorers endured the extremities
of famine, and were compelled first to kill and eat their horses, and
then to purchase for food the dogs of wandering Indians met with on
their painful way to the coast. At length, on the 13th September, the
lower course of the upper branch of the Columbia, to which the name
of Lewis was given, was reached, and from Twisted Hair, a chief of the
Nez Percés, or Pierced-nosed Indians, another inland Columbian tribe,
the joyful news was heard that the ocean was not far distant. Twisted
Hair and his subjects, who received their peculiar appellation of
Nez Percés account of some of them wearing a white shell suspended
from their noses, assisted their white visitors in building canoes,
in which the explorers floated easily down the now wide and rapid
Columbia to the home of the Sokulks, belonging to the same great
family as the Ootlashoots and Nez Percés, a wild but peaceable people,
living in well-built huts, and clothing themselves in the skins of
elk, deer, and other trophies of the chase.
Below the Sokulks dwelt the Pishquitpaws, who had never seen a white
man, and were proportionately astonished at the sudden appearance
among them of the Americans. Except that they wore scarcely any
clothing at all, the Pishquitpaws differed but little from the other
inland Columbian tribes visited; and when their terror at the arrival
of their strange guests――who they thought had fallen straight from the
sky――was somewhat subsided, they were ready enough to give information
and show hospitality.
Illustration: BASALTIC PINNACLES ON THE COLUMBIA RIVER.
As the canoes floated down the Columbia toward the Great Falls, the
spirits of the party were cheered by the sight on the west of a lofty
snow-tipped mountain, which they identified as that of St. Helen’s,
seen by Vancouver from the mouth of the great river; and on the 22d
October the Falls themselves were reached, where the Columbia, driven
into a narrow channel some forty-five yards wide, with a huge black
rock on one side and mighty hills on the other, whirls and boils in
a terrific manner. The Indian guides voted this passage impassable
for canoes; but, unwilling to undergo either the delay or fatigue
necessary to transport the baggage by land, the leaders of the
expedition determined to run the risk of shooting the Falls in their
frail barks. To their own relief and the intense delight of the
Indians the passage was successfully performed, and all dangers
seemed now over, when the explorers discovered that the Falls were
but the gateway, so to speak, of a yet more formidable impediment
to navigation, known as the Great Narrows, where the river for three
miles had literally to eat its way through a black rock varying in
width from thirty to one hundred yards. Into this terrible passage,
however, the canoes entered, and after a struggle, in which the skill
and endurance of every member of the party were tried to the utmost,
the smooth waters below were entered, and in the numerous seals
disporting themselves on either side of the little vessels, the weary
explorers read signs that the coast was now indeed near at hand.
The Columbia now gradually widened; on the first day of November
the first appearance of tide water was noticed, and about the eighth
of the same month the first view was obtained of the Pacific Ocean.
A somewhat tempestuous trip of a few days followed this great era
in American exploration; but the close of the month found the whole
party in the mouth of the great Columbia. The American continent had
been traversed for the first time by scientific observers, and the
true extent of the American dominion could never again be doubted.
The first week in December was spent in beating about the Pacific
coast in search of a suitable refuge in which to pass the winter, and
on the 7th a small bay was selected, which was called Merryweather,
after the Christian name of Captain Lewis. Here temporary tents
were soon erected, and, in the long dreary months which followed,
acquaintance was made with the Clatsops, ♦Chinooks, Killamucks,
and other seaboard tribes of the great Columbia family, who, though
differing in much, agreed in a remarkable fondness for artificial
deformity, especially for the flattening of the forehead. Hence the
designation of Flatheads applied to all the tribes dwelling west of
the Rocky Mountains by their cousins of the East.
♦ ‘Chinnooks’ replaced with ‘Chinooks’
With the early spring the camp at Merryweather Bay was broken up,
and the exploring party turned their faces homeward. A journey of a
couple of months, over much the same route as that followed on the
way to the Pacific, brought them once more to the navigable portion
of the Missouri, and, sailing down, they arrived at Fort Louis, at its
junction with the Father of Waters, on the 22d May, 1806.
Illustration: THE GIANTESS GEYSER OF YELLOWSTONE.