TO THE FALLS OF THE MISSOURI
On the afternoon of April 7, 1805, winter quarters were abandoned. Of
the original forty-five men two had been lost; but three recruits had
been gained,--Chaboneau, his squaw Sacajawea, and their infant son,
born in February. From Fort Mandan fourteen of the men returned to St.
Louis in the barge, carrying documents, collections, and trophies,
while thirty-two went onward, to be separated from their kind for
almost eighteen months. On this day Captain Lewis wrote in his
journal:--
"This little fleet altho' not quite so rispectable as those of Columbus
or Capt. Cook, were still viewed by us with as much pleasure as those
deservedly famed adventurers ever beheld theirs; and I dare say with
quite as much anxiety for their safety and preservation. We were now
about to penetrate a country at least two thousand miles in width, on
which the foot of civilized man had never trodden; the good or evil it
had in store for us was for experiment yet to determine, and these
little vessells contained every article by which we were to expect to
subsist or defend ourselves. However as the state of mind in which we
are, generally gives the coloring to events, when the imagination is
suffered to wander into futurity, the picture which now presented
itself to me was a most pleasing one, entertaining as I do the most
confident hope of succeeding in a voyage which had formed a darling
project of mine for the last ten years, I could but esteem this moment
of our departure as among the most happy of my life."
April 26th they came to the mouth of the Yellowstone River, which
enters the Missouri 1888 miles above St. Louis. They had had no
adventure of moment; neither was there cause for immediate anxiety,
save as they observed signs of the Assiniboins. From the tribes with
whom they had talked at winter quarters, they had heard stirring tales
of this cut-throat band, which had inspired the wish to pass unobserved
through their country. This desire was fulfilled. There was no meeting
with the Assiniboins.
Of all the wild creatures of the Western wilderness, the one which
could least be spared from the literature of adventure is the grizzly
bear. Lewis and Clark were the first white men to give an account of
this beast. Many of the Indian lodge-tales to which they had listened
rang with the fame of the grizzly, as a background for the greater fame
of the narrators. As a matter of course, fact and figment were
inextricably blended in these tales; but, while they did not show the
animal as it was, they could not exaggerate its untamable courage, its
ferocity, or its rugged power of endurance. On April 29th, Captain
Lewis, with a party of hunters, proved the truth of all that had been
told him upon these points, and more; and upon many occasions
thereafter, while the party was making its way from the Yellowstone
country to the mountains, there were encounters from which the men
escaped by mere good fortune. The most critical adventures with the
Indians were but child's play in comparison. Despite their boasting,
the Indians would seldom venture to provoke a fight with a grizzly,
except in the most favorable circumstances, and when strength of
numbers inspired them with bravado. Reckless and headlong as wild
elephants, nothing would daunt the grizzlies, once they had set about
fighting; and so hardy were they as often to escape, apparently
unharmed, though their vital parts were riddled with lead.
Until the Rocky Mountains were reached, there was almost no hardship
arising from scarcity of food. Early in May, Captain Lewis wrote that
game of all sorts abounded, being so gentle as to take no alarm of the
hunters. "The male buffalo particularly will hardly give way to us, and
as we approach will merely look at us for a moment, as something new,
and then quietly resume their feeding.... Game is in such plenty that
it has become a mere amusement to supply the party with provisions." In
the months that followed, the men carried a blessed memory of that
abundance.
As they drew near to the foothills, navigation became more and more
difficult. The river lost the sullen, muddy aspect of its lower course,
where it flowed between low, sandy banks, and took the character of a
mountain stream, walled with rock and filled with dangers. Then it was
that the cottonwood skiffs betrayed their weaknesses. Accidents were of
almost daily occurrence; and on one occasion the boat containing the
instruments and papers was nearly lost. They were then more than two
thousand miles from any place where such a loss could have been
repaired. To go on would have been idle, without means for making
accurate observations; they would have been obliged to turn back. In
the face of this perpetual threat, they had no resource but to take
their chances with luck; with the best they could do, they could not
adequately safeguard themselves against calamity. For the time being,
at least, they were rank fatalists.
On Sunday, May 26th, Captain Lewis left camp on foot, ascended to the
summit of a ridge of hills near the river, and from the height had his
first glimpse of the distant ranges of the Rocky Mountains. This was
about a year and a half before Pike's discovery. The journal entry for
that day comes near to showing emotion:--
"While I viewed these mountains I felt a secret pleasure in thus
finding myself so near the head of the hitherto conceived boundless
Missouri; but when I reflected on the difficulties which this snowey
barrier would most probably throw in my way to the Pacific, and the
sufferings and hardships of myself and party in them, it in some
measure counterballanced the joy I had felt in the first moments in
which I gazed on them; but as I have always held it a crime to
anticipate evils I will believe it a good comfortable road until I am
compelled to believe differently."
Progress grew increasingly hard. Rapids were numerous, over which the
boats could not be urged with oars; so the men were compelled to walk
upon the banks, drawing the craft with tow-lines. These lines were made
mostly of elk-skin, which became softened and rotted by the water and
often broke under the strain, causing many accidents of a trying and
serious nature. The banks were sometimes so rocky and precipitous as to
afford no foothold; then the men took to the water, wading, swimming,
making headway as they could. One extract from the journals will
illustrate the severity of their toil:--
"May 31st [a rainy day]. Obstructions continue, and fatigue the men
excessively. The banks are so slippery in some places, and the mud so
adhesive, that they are unable to wear their moccasins; one fourth of
the time they are obliged to be up to their arm-pits in the cold water,
and sometimes they walk for several hours over the sharp fragments of
rocks which have fallen from the hills. All this, added to the burden
of dragging the heavy canoes, is very painful; yet the men bear it with
great patience and good humour."
On June 3d they came to a point where the river forked; and here, as
the forks were of nearly equal volume, they were in doubt as to their
route. Captain Lewis wrote:--
"On our right decision much of the fate of the expedition depends;
since if, after ascending to the Rocky Mountains or beyond them, we
should find that the river we were following did not come near the
Columbia, and be obliged to return, we should not only be losing the
traveling season, two months of which have already elapsed, but
probably dishearten the men so much as to induce them either to abandon
the enterprise, or yield us a cold obedience, instead of the warm and
zealous support which they have hitherto afforded us.... The fatigues
of the last few days have occasioned some falling off in the appearance
of the men; who, not having been able to wear their moccasins, have had
their feet much bruised and mangled in passing over the stones and
rough ground. They are, however, perfectly cheerful, and have an
undiminished ardor for the expedition."
In order to settle the doubt, the officers took each one branch of the
stream and proceeded to explore it for some distance above the
confluence, to determine its direction. Captain Lewis, ascending the
northern fork, became convinced that it was not the main stream; and to
it he gave the name, which it still bears, of Maria's River. His warmth
of youth speaks in this paragraph:
"I determined to give it a name and in honour of Miss Maria W--d [Maria
Wood, his cousin] called it Maria's River. It is true that the hue of
the waters of this turbulent and troubled stream but illy comport with
the pure celestial virtues and amiable qualifications of that lovely
fair one; but on the other hand it is a noble river; one destined to
become in my opinion an object of contention between the two great
powers of America and Great Britin, with rispect to the adjustment of
the North westwardly boundary of the former; and that it will become
one of the most interesting branches of the Missouri."
Meanwhile, Captain Clark had gone far enough along the southern fork to
satisfy himself that that was the proper course; and when he rejoined
Captain Lewis at the confluence, preparations were made for continuing
the journey. It was then clear that the burdens of the men must be
lightened; accordingly, considerable quantities of merchandise,
ammunition, etc., were buried in the earth, or "cached," after a method
often followed by travelers of the West; care being taken to preserve
the stores against moisture. One of the periogues also was left at this
place, securely hidden.
While this work was going on, Captain Lewis, with several of the men,
proceeded to explore the southern stream more minutely, seeking to
devise means for passing the canyon at the mouth of which the party was
encamped. June 13th he heard in the distance the roar of the Great
Falls of the Missouri; and, after pushing on for several miles, he
stood at the foot of the lower cascade. Relying upon descriptions which
had been given by the Indians at the Mandan villages, he now felt
assured that the right way had been chosen.
He seated himself before the roaring sheet of water, and endeavored to
put a description of it upon paper; but then he added helplessly:--
"After wrighting this imperfect description I again viewed the falls
and was so much disgusted with the imperfect idea which it conveyed of
the scene that I determined to draw my pen across it and begin agin,
but then reflected that I could not perhaps succeed better than penning
the first impressions of the mind; I wished for the pencil of a
Salvator Rosa, or the pen of a Thompson, that I might be enabled to
give to the enlightened world some just idea of this truly magnificent
and sublimely grand object, which has from the commencement of time
been concealed from the view of civilized man; but this was fruitless
and vain. I most sincerely regreted that I had not brought a
chimeeobscura with me by the assistance of which I could have hoped to
have done better but alas this was also out of my reach; I therefore,
with my pen only endeavored to trace some of the stronger features of
this seen by the assistance of which and my recollection aided by some
able pencil I hope still to give to the world some fain idea of an
object which at this moment fills me with such pleasure and
astonishment."
On the next day he went ahead, alone, and discovered that this was but
the first of a long series of cascades, extending for many miles up the
canyon. It was a day of excitement. While returning to rejoin his party,
he suffered his gun to remain for a time unloaded; in this plight he
was surprised by a grizzly bear. Cut off from any other retreat, he was
forced to take to the water, in which he stood to the depth of his
armpits, facing the brute upon the bank and preparing to defend himself
in a hand-to-hand struggle; but, in a manner wholly out of keeping with
his family traditions, the grizzly was content to walk away without
attacking. Proceeding about nightfall, the young officer encountered a
strange beast, probably a wolverine, which showed fight; and a little
later he was charged by three bulls from a herd of buffalo. Upon waking
the next morning, he found a large rattlesnake coiled about the trunk
of the tree beneath which he had slept.