But no ships from the United States or any other nation were to be
found. Only the long gray swells appeared, as far as eye could see,
rolling in to burst thunderously upon the white sands and the naked
rocks; and the only people ashore were the Indians. Ships and white men
had been here, said the Indians, during the summer; and many of the
Indians spoke a curious mixture of English and native words. Captain
Lewis discovered a place, in the bay, where white men had camped.
A high point overlooking the lonely ocean was given the name Cape
Disappointment.
“Now, wouldn’t it have been a fine end to our trip from the Mississippi
clane to the Paycific if a nice big ship all stocked with flour an’
p’taties an’ boots an’ socks had been waitin’ for us,” quoth Pat.
“Sure, mebbe the United States has forgotten us.”
“We’ll have to build winter quarters at once, Will,” said Captain
Lewis. “The rain is rotting all our goods and clothes, and spoiling our
provisions. We must get under cover. There’ll be no ships before next
summer, according to the Indians.”
“Timber for cabins, wood for fires, game and fresh water for the
messes, and shelter from the ocean tides――let’s look about, then,”
answered Captain Clark. “The Indians say that skins and meat are
abundant a little way south.”
Captain Lewis found it――a good site, on the south side of the bay
formed by the mouth of the Columbia, and three miles up a little river
called to-day the Lewis and Clark River. It was back ten miles from the
ocean, and in the midst of tall pines, with great shaking bogs near, on
which elk fed.
The first fair morning, which was December 7, camp was moved to the new
grounds.
The walls of the seven cabins rose fast; and when it came time to put
on the roofs, Pat, the boss carpenter, was delighted to find a species
of pine that split into boards ten feet long, and two feet wide, with
never a knot or crack.
“The finest puncheons I iver have seen,” he asserted, “for floors
an’ roofs both. We’ll be snug an’ dry in a jiffy, an’ all ready for
Christmas.”
“It’s a far cry back to last Christmas, Pat,” spoke George. “We’ve come
through a lot of country.”
“An’ here we are,” reminded Pat.
Yes; Christmas――Peter’s first Christmas――was indeed a long way behind.
That Christmas of 1804 had been celebrated in new Fort Mandan among
the Mandans and Minnetarees beside the snowy Missouri River. What were
Chiefs Big White and Black Cat doing now? Was Fort Mandan being kept
ready for the return of the Long Knife and the Red Head?
This Christmas of 1805 was celebrated in new Fort Clatsop, among the
flat-headed Clatsops and Chinooks and Cathlamets at the mouth of the
rainy Columbia River. The men fired a volley, before breakfast, and in
front of the captains’ door old Cruzatte, accompanied by Drouillard and
the other Frenchmen, sang a lively Christmas song. But there was no
feast, because the only food in stock was some roots, pounded fish, and
lean elk meat. The captains distributed a little tobacco to the men who
smoked, and Peter and the men who did not use tobacco received each a
handkerchief.
The rain poured all day, but the cabins were tight above and below, so
that everybody stayed dry and warm.
Now the expedition might settle down to the winter’s routine. Chimneys
were yet to be put up for the men’s cabins――fires were tried, in open
hearths in the middle of the rooms, Indian fashion, and proved too
smoky. A fence of high, close pickets, as at Fort Mandan, needs must be
erected to guard against attack.
The captains’ cabin had been built around a large stump, smoothly
sawed; this was their writing table, on which they spread their maps
and journals. Captain Clark had traded with the Indians for a panther
skin seven feet long; this made a good rug. York occupied the same
cabin. Chaboneau was the captains’ cook; he and Sa-ca-ja-we-a and
little Toussaint lived in another room, built on. The men were divided
into four messes, each with a cook, and the supplies were doled out
from the storehouse every morning.
Drouillard, the chief hunter, and George Shannon, John Collins,
Francois Labiche and Reuben Fields were sent out to hunt for elk and
deer; but the meat spoiled so quickly, even although smoked, in this
damp climate, that Joe Fields, William Bratton, Alec Willard, George
Gibson and Peter Wiser were ordered to the seashore with kettles, to
make salt.
They built a furnace or fireplace, of stones, and boiled down
kettlesful of salt water. They brought back a gallon of good salt, for
table use and for preserving the meat. All winter the salt-makers were
kept at work. Peter served his turn.
The hunters were constantly out, chasing elk over the bogs. The meat
not eaten was salted and smoke-dried; from the tallow, candles were
run, in reed moulds; and from the hides the men made shirts and
trousers and moccasins, in preparation for the next journey. The
captains determined that the whole party should return by land, as soon
as the travel season opened. No ship was to be expected.
The captains led out exploring parties. Captain Clark gained a great
reputation as a shot; with a single ball no larger than a pea he
clipped off the heads of geese and ducks.
“Kloshe musquet! Kum-tux musquet!” exclaimed the Indians. “Very good
musket! Do not understand this kind of musket!”
Their own guns were rusty flint-locks, loaded with poor powder and
gravel. Their bows were beautiful and true, but were not strong enough
for killing elk. They were not nearly so strong as the bows of the
Otoes and the Sioux, decided Peter; not nearly so strong as his own
Mandan bow.
The Indians from all around visited the fort. The Chinooks, under Chief
Com-com-ly, who had only one eye (“Same as me,” chuckled Cruzatte),
lived on the north side of the bay; on this south side lived the
Clatsops, under Chief Co-bo-way. Nearer the sea lived the Tilla-mooks.
Up the Columbia River lived Cath-lam-ets. These all looked much alike,
being small, ugly, and flat-footed and crooked-legged from squatting so
much in their canoes and by their fires.
They were well acquainted with white men. One squaw had the name “J.
Bowman” tattooed on her arm. The captain spent much time talking with
them, and learned of the ships and the white traders who had been in
here.
“Tyee (chief) Haley; so many mast (and Chief Com-com-ly held up three
fingers); stay long.”