Port Famine--St. Nicholas' Bay, and its inscriptions--Politeness of
the Indians declined--Difficulty of navigating the straits--A
post-bag in a bottle--An English steamer, and its humane
errand--Exertions of the British government to rescue prisoners in
Patagonia--American schooner--Celebration of our safe passage
through the straits--Juan Fernandez--News from home--A chapter of
accidents--A trip to Lima--Almost an adventure--Arrival at San
Francisco--Journey to the mines--A happy meeting.
Our next stopping-place was Port Famine. We were visited, the first
evening after we anchored, by the acting governor of the colony and
their Irish doctor. The captain and myself went on shore the next day,
and made a very agreeable visit to the officers, who treated us with
much politeness. We spent two or three days here. We next cast anchor in
Saint Nicholas' Bay, a beautiful harbor. Going on shore, we observed the
names of a number of vessels that had preceded us through the straits
carved upon trees, with the dates of the several inscriptions; we added
our own to the catalogue. There were some deserted bush-huts, probably
of Terra-del-Fuegans, who frequently cross over the straits in their
canoes, when fishing. A small, shallow stream, of much beauty, flows
into the harbor; we rowed up it for some distance, gunning on the
banks. From this point, several ineffectual attempts were made to
advance; but we were driven back as soon as we cleared Cape Froward, and
obliged to retreat to our anchorage. Our vessel was flat, and could not
hold on before a stiff breeze, but was inclined, like a crab, to move
sideways. The wind having subsided, we made sail late in the afternoon,
succeeded in doubling Cape Froward, and dropped anchor in Snug Bay; but,
not being pleased with our position, weighed anchor, and continued our
course to Fortescue Bay. In passing Cape Holland we saw a large company
of Indians. They paraded on the shore with dingy flags flying, and waved
skins in the air to invite our approach; but we kept on our way without
noticing them; anchored, the next afternoon, in Port Gallant,--a fine
harbor, sheltered from all winds. We observed the wreck of some large
vessel, and conjectured that it might be that of a French bark of which
we were told at Port Famine, which was run ashore and plundered by the
Indians, who murdered the crew. We were advised to keep a sharp look-out
for Indians here, which we failed not to do; but none made their
appearance. As we beat up Crooked Beach, and passed the end of Carlos
III. Islands, we discovered a white flag flying on the Terra-del-Fuegan
shore. Thinking it might be the signal of some white people who had been
shipwrecked, we stood over into the opposite channel, near enough to see
Indians and their canoes on the beach, ready to pay us a visit. We hove
about, having no desire to make their acquaintance, and anchored,
towards night, in the beautiful Borga Bay, opposite.
The most difficult and dangerous feature of navigation in the straits is
the encountering of sudden and violent squalls, which strike the vessel
without the least warning, and are frequently enough to wreck her in a
few minutes even in the hands of the most experienced seamen. We found
on shore inscriptions of California-bound vessels, as before. On a
branch of a tree overhanging a little stream, we found a bottle
suspended, containing papers. This was taken on board, and its contents
examined. Three or four vessels, passing through the straits, had left
memoranda of their experience,--such as snow-storms, loss of spars,
anchors, chains, &c. Captain Morton wrote a humorous account of our
voyage, to deposit in this repository of curiosities; and I added a
contribution, narrating my capture by the Indians and escape, with a
request that, if it should fall into hands bound for the United States
or England, it might be published. I little thought that it would bear
to my anxious friends the first intelligence of my safety. I left
letters at Sea-Lion Island, to be forwarded by the first opportunity,
which failed to reach their destination; but this, bottled and suspended
from a tree in the wilderness, first fell into the hands of an Indian,
who sold it to some passing trader, by whom the soiled writing was
deciphered, and kindly forwarded to Smith's News-room, in Boston, and
was published in the "Boston Atlas."
Our progress was slow, both wind and tide being against us; a strong
current set constantly to the eastward. At Swallow Harbor, where we next
anchored, we were completely sheltered from the winds, except that which
came down from the lofty mountains, called by the sailors "willewaws."
The scenery around is exceedingly wild. There was a beautiful waterfall
on the mountain side, the stream probably fed by melting snow. We
stopped at many harbors as we passed along, most of them quite secure
when entered, but difficult of access. Half-port Bay, at which we
touched, is very properly named. It is but a slight indentation in the
land, and has a bottom affording very poor holding-ground, covered with
kelp; besides, it is very imperfectly sheltered from the wind. While
lying here we had a severe gale from the westward, which produced
considerable "chop." Our vessel dragged her anchors, in consequence of
their becoming foul with kelp. However, by dropping our kedge-anchor,
and loading the chains, we succeeded in arresting our motion before
striking the rocks. We had a narrow escape.
At Cape Monday, having cast anchor, we discovered, towards night, a
steamer on the Patagonian side, bound westward. Our colors were set, as
there were indications of a dark and stormy night, and the steamer
turned about and steered for our harbor. This was a pleasant
circumstance, as the captain meant, if possible, to get towed through
the straits. The vessel anchored near us, and proved to be the Fire Fly,
Captain Smith master, built for an English gentleman residing in
Talchuana, and now bound to Valparaiso. Captain Smith had his daughter
with him, and half a dozen passengers. We visited them, and were very
civilly received, invited into the cabin, and introduced to the young
lady. On hearing my name, she observed that they found at Borga Bay a
paper in a bottle, describing the captivity of a person bearing the same
name in Patagonia, with an account of his escape. Captain Morton
informed her that I was the writer of that document. "Is it possible?"
she exclaimed; "then you are the hero of those adventures!" "I certainly
am the unfortunate person there described," I replied, "though wholly
undeserving the name of hero." She expressed, as did all the passengers,
much sympathy, and asked many questions in regard to the treatment
received and the life led during my captivity.
Captain Smith suggested that I might be able to give him some
information in regard to two Englishmen who had been captured by the
savages. He had orders from the Board of Admiralty to make search at any
places at which he might touch on the Patagonian coast, and endeavor to
learn something of their fate. I told him that I knew something of
certain English prisoners in that country, and proceeded to relate what
I had learned from the Indians of the murder of Captain Eaton, and the
capture and subsequent murder of Messrs. Sims and Douglass; giving the
names of the vessel and the prisoners from information communicated by
Mr. Hall. Captain Smith produced his letter of instructions, and the
names and circumstances perfectly coincided, except that the
instructions described the Avon as a ship, while she was styled by Mr.
Hall as a brig; an immaterial variation, as all classes of vessels often
pass under the general designation of "ships." My deposition of the
facts was written out by two of the passengers, and, having been read to
me, I signed it, for transmission to England. The English government,
Captain Smith said, had been at great pains and expense to obtain
information of those unfortunate young men, who belonged to highly
respectable families in England, and to facilitate their escape. Boats
had been sent out and buried in the sand, and a great number of
handkerchiefs had been printed, containing particular statements of the
situation of the buried boats; these had been distributed to vessels
bound near the Patagonian coast, to be thrown ashore, in the hope that
they might be picked up by Indians, and thus convey the desired
information to the prisoners, if they were living. In hearing what the
British government had done for its unfortunate subjects, I indulged in
some bitter remarks on the supposed neglect of our government in respect
to my fate, in leaving me (as I presumed to think) to perish among
cannibals, without making any effort to learn my fate, or to rescue me
from destruction; remarks of which I had abundant cause to be ashamed,
when I learned what had been actually attempted in my behalf.
We could effect no arrangement to be towed by the steamer, as the
captain said his stock of fuel was too small to warrant running the risk
of being retarded; besides, in case of accident, it would affect his
insurance. We spent part of the evening on board the steamer; very soon
after returning to our ship, a boat, containing two or three of the
passengers, drew up alongside, and a package was put into my hands
containing ten dollars, and a letter, signed by the captain and
passengers, requesting my acceptance of the gift, as a slight token of
their regard and sympathy. While returning my hearty thanks for such a
demonstration of kindness to a stranger, I begged to decline the money;
but they urged its acceptance, and I reluctantly gratified their wishes.
All the next day we beat along, till we found anchorage at Round Island
for the night. On nearing the harbor, a mast was observed on the rocks,
lying partly out of the water. I took the boat, early the next morning,
to ascertain if it was attached to a wreck; but found that it was
loose, and must have drifted there. I knocked off the iron band and
cross-trees from the mast-head, and brought them on board our vessel. At
Tamer Harbor, our next port, we noticed the wreck of a new vessel, lying
well up on the shore, her bottom badly shattered by the rocks on which
she had been driven, and both masts gone; it proved to be the "John A.
Sutter," of Rhode Island. On the opposite shore were parts of
iron-mills, and other machinery, probably designed for use in
California. The shore was strewed with trunks and chests, from the
wreck; she had been stripped of everything valuable. The cabin on deck
had been cut, and partially burned, by those touching at the harbor. We
fished up a bundle of steel rods from the hold, which was partly filled
with sand and water. The vessel had been wrecked, as we afterwards
ascertained, in a thick fog, on one of the little islands off the
western mouth of the straits, and drifted back to the harbor, where we
found her. While we were here, the schooner Julius Pringle, of New
London, bound to California, came in and anchored. The next day a fine
wind bore us to Mercy Harbor, the last anchorage in the Straits of
Magellan. The harbor is a good one; and we determined not to leave it
till we had a good wind, that would take us well out, far enough to
clear the islands lying off the north side. We remained several days
waiting for a south-westerly wind, during which delay a pilot-boat,
bound for the golden country, came up with us. Our time here was spent
very agreeably; our passage through the straits had consumed fifty-one
days, and had been effected without accident, though we had witnessed
repeated tokens of disaster to some of our predecessors. By way of
celebrating our success, we got up a "clam-bake," _minus_ the clams, in
lieu of which we collected and roasted a quantity of muscles, by burying
them in the earth, and applying hot stones; they proved excellent
eating, and we had "a good time."
Our mate, who was a sensible young man, of good education, had two
foibles; he was a decided grumbler, and, in his conviviality, he was a
little _too_ far from total abstinence. He had a particular dislike of a
dog on board, purchased at Sandy Point,--a thievish rascal, that always
had his nose in anything that was dirty; even the tar and slush-buckets
did not escape his attentions. On the evening of the clam-bake, the mate
was a little exhilarated; and, having pulled off his pea-jacket
preparatory to "turning in" for the night, he seized Bose, mistaking him
for the jacket he had just dropped, and threw him into his berth. The
dog was not at all displeased with such comfortable quarters, and lay
down very nicely with his unexpected bed-fellow. I observed the mate,
the next morning, sitting near his berth, yawning; his eyes presently
rested on the detested Bose; his feet were in quick motion, and an
unceremonious kick turned the dog out as suddenly as he had been turned
in. The incident afforded us a hearty laugh at the mate's expense, who
became, for the rest of the voyage, a decided temperance man.
Tired of our detention, we put off in unfavorable weather; the Pringle
and the pilot-boat (whose name I have forgotten) getting out with us,
but we found it expedient to retreat to our anchorage. A gale soon
followed, which prolonged our stay; when its fury was past, we got out
and proceeded northward, for Callao. In passing the port of Juan
Fernandez, we saw a whaling-ship just putting out to sea; we had
designed to stop here for some supplies, but concluded that we could
better obtain them at Callao, and held on our course. In our way to
Callao we spoke the bark Sarah, Captain Morse, from New Bedford, bound
to California with a company of sixty members, of which Captain Morse
was president. Our captain told them that he had on board a man from New
Bedford,--Captain Bourne,--escaped from captivity among the Indians.
Captain Morse replied that he recollected the sloop of war Vandalia was
sent down to the straits in search of him. Presently a crowd of persons
surrounded the captain of the Sarah, who appeared to be talking
earnestly; the bark was soon hove to, and several gentlemen from New
Bedford came to us in a boat. They seemed overjoyed to find me alive and
well, and made numerous inquiries about my captivity and rescue. They
informed me that the Vandalia was despatched by our government to my
relief, with orders to punish my captors, if expedient and practicable.
From them, also, I gained the first information concerning my ship and
shipmates; it seemed that the vessel, with the Hebe and the J. B. Gager,
lost their chains and anchors in the straits, and dragged out to sea.
The John Allyne, after steering two or three days for Montevideo, to
repair and obtain supplies, ascertained that they had water enough
aboard to carry them around Cape Horn, the only practicable course, as,
without chains and anchors, it was impossible to enter the straits. With
the concurrence of all on board, it was decided to attempt the passage
round the cape as they were. They encountered a gale off the Horn; and,
while lying to, the vessel was knocked on her beam ends. The second
mate, Mr. F. Crapo, of New Bedford, was washed overboard, and lost;
others were badly bruised, some narrowly escaping the doom of the mate.
The cabin partly filled with water; but the schooner righted, with the
loss of spars, sails, bulwarks, caboose, and stanchions. She finally
weathered the gale, and arrived at Valparaiso, forty-one days after I
was left in Patagonia. Here the vessel was repaired, at great cost, and
proceeded safely to California. After the relation of this chapter of
accidents, I gave them a brief narrative of my adventures among the
Patagonians; they returned towards night to their ship. The wind was
light, and in the morning we were still near each other; several of the
passengers came to us in a boat, bringing with them a quantity of
American newspapers. I found in them notices of the disasters that
befell my vessel, and the particulars of my capture. The papers were
lent to me until we should meet at Callao,--a great favor; their
contents were devoured with a high relish, as they were the first
American papers I had seen since my capture. Both vessels arrived
safely, on the third day afterwards, at Callao.
In the evening after our arrival, I went with the captain and Mr. F. on
board the Sarah, and spent an hour very agreeably. The passengers had
agreed to take the diligence next morning, and visit the city of Lima,
six miles distant, and they invited us to join them. Mr. F. assented,
but I declined, preferring, on the whole, to remain on shipboard. The
party were on shore betimes the next morning, except Mr. F., who
consumed so much time in urging me to go with them, in which Captain
Morton joined, that he said the company must have got off; and, unless I
would accompany him on horseback, he would have to bear me company in
the ship; so, rather than disappoint him, though caring but little
personally for the jaunt, I yielded. We went ashore immediately,
procured horses, and, having found our friends, rambled over the city,
viewing the numerous public buildings by which it is adorned. We were
continually beset by shrivelled, cadaverous beggars; they posted
themselves at every corner, and besought us, by the Blessed Virgin, to
give them alms. The day passed, on the whole, so pleasantly, and there
remained so many objects of interest unvisited, we rather regretted that
it was not longer. The diligence drove up to the hotel towards evening,
to take our friends to the port; we started for our horses, intending to
overtake and accompany them in their drive, but missed our way. Some
time elapsed before we found ourselves at the gate of the city, opening
on the beautiful public road to Callao. As we passed out, we drew up at
a respectable-looking ranche; two young Spaniards appeared to be the
only occupants. With some little delay, during which one of the two
stepped out at a back door, we procured cigars, lighted them, and were
moving towards the entrance. Whilst I was paying for them, my companion
got the start of me. As I was placing my foot in the stirrup, twenty or
thirty mounted horsemen dashed through the gateway, up to the house.
They were armed to the teeth; their holsters stuck full of pistols, and
I could see shining blades protruding through their garments. They had a
desperate, lawless look, unlike that of soldiers or civil officers, and
it seemed to me they were no better than they should be. I thought of
the delay in giving us our cigars, and it struck me that one of the
troop strongly resembled the fellow who stepped out so quietly on our
entrance. I sprang into the saddle and gave my horse two or three smart
raps, under the stimulus of which he cleared the causeway between the
sidewalk and the road at a single bound, and speedily overtook my
companion. He had caught a glimpse of the armed cavalcade, and we urged
our horses at full speed for about a mile, without looking back. On
turning, nothing was seen but a long streak of dust. We then compared
notes touching the armed men, and agreed that we were best off at a
distance from them. We made the best of our way to Callao, which we
reached a little after dark, and found the captain delighted at our safe
return, as he had feared some accident, having heard since morning of
several robberies lately committed on that road. He had been told that a
perfect understanding existed between the robbers and the people of
Callao, who gave daily intelligence of persons leaving the port for the
city; and that even officers of the government were suspected of
conniving at these outrages, if not actually in league with the
banditti. As yet, all attempts to ferret them out and break up their
combination had failed. Our description of the party we encountered so
far agreed with the statements of American residents at Callao, that we
were congratulated, and felt disposed to congratulate ourselves, on our
safe journey. Neither of us was burdened with _plata_, and we had no
more effective weapons than our jack-knives.
As a national vessel had been ordered to the coast of Patagonia for my
relief, I thought it my duty to report myself the next day to the
American consul, who was much interested by the recital of my
experience. The brig Ann and Julia, Captain McAlister, of New Orleans,
came into port a day or two after. Captain McAlister said that the
Vandalia came into Rio Janeiro while he was there, shipped more men, and
sailed southward in great haste.
Having obtained wood and water and other necessary supplies, we put out
to sea once more. I must not omit to record the kindness shown, and the
still greater kindness tendered me, by the captain of the Sarah, and all
the members of the company. They offered me a free passage and any
assistance I might need on arrival in California; but the generosity of
Captain Morton had supplied all present needs, and, with all gratitude
for their proffered aid, I was not willing to tax their bounty in
advance. We stood well to the westward before crossing the line, as only
light winds can be expected before reaching from five to seven degrees
of north or south latitude, when the trade-winds set in. We had a
passage of thirty-seven days from Callao to San Francisco, which was in
very good time, considering the sailing qualities of our vessel. We
anchored in the beautiful harbor, February 19, 1850, one year and seven
days from the date of my leaving New Bedford.
Any description of San Francisco would be altogether superfluous, as her
streets, even, are familiar in the states as household words. I found,
upon going ashore, letters from those most dear to me, which had long
awaited my arrival; also one from a brother then in California. He
stated that immediately on hearing of my misfortunes he started for San
Francisco to see Commodore Jones, then on that station, and endeavor to
induce him to make an effort for my release. On making his business
known, the gallant commodore informed him that he had already heard of
it, and had despatched the sloop-of-war Levant for my rescue, in the
full confidence that the enterprise would be successful. When I was
telling the Indian council that flourishing story of my consequence at
home, and of the big ships and little ships, the big guns and little
guns, that were at my command, ready to avenge any mischief they might
do me, I little thought how literally the action of our government, and
the spontaneous kindness of Commodore Jones, were verifying my words.
The sympathy manifested in my behalf by the gallant commodore deserves
more than this passing notice. My brother also left a deposit of funds
against my arrival, if it ever occurred, of the probability of which he
was in some doubt; also his address, and that of another brother, who
was then at the mines. I could learn but little as to the fate of my
vessel, or of my effects on board, except that she had duly arrived
there, and, after much disagreement and dispute among the company, had
been sold for a trifle above the costs of repair on the passage. This
operation, I thought, savored little of Yankee shrewdness; since we
arrived at a later date, with a vessel of about the same size, age and
value, at a time when shipping was in less demand, and sold her for
nearly three times the amount. I was happy to meet many acquaintances,
who gave me a hearty welcome, and showed me kindness I can never forget.
The schooner J. Pringle, from which we parted on issuing from the
Straits of Magellan, arrived in port very soon after us, having touched
at Valparaiso. Her captain said that he found the sloop-of-war Vandalia
at Valparaiso, to obtain chains and an anchor, as she had lost one
anchor and one hundred and thirty fathoms of chain in Possession Bay,
and was obliged to double Cape Horn. She was to sail again for Patagonia
as soon as the damages were repaired, entering the western mouth of the
straits. Captain B. reported my escape, and that I was safe on board the
Hopewell, for California, informing the officers that he parted company
with me at Mercy Harbor--intelligence that was received with
demonstrations of lively pleasure.
Being unable to obtain any information of my personal effects, left on
the John Allyne, I left this mushroom city on the third day after my
arrival, and took passage in the steamer Senator for Sacramento, at the
moderate fare of _twenty-five dollars_ for a passage of a few hours'
duration. I found this city of rag houses full of the indications of its
recent and rapid settlement. The streets abounded in mud, a foot or more
in depth. Here I recovered my chest, but the trunks containing my
clothing were missing. Our company, it appeared, had broken up, and its
members were dispersed hither and thither in the mines, every man for
himself. My brothers, as near as I could ascertain, were seventy miles
distant, possibly removed to the Middle Fork of the American river, and
I decided to start on foot. Accordingly, having purchased, at enormous
prices, a pair of red flannel blankets, thick boots, a rifle and
revolver, and other necessary equipments, I set out for the mines the
next morning, in company with two or three persons from the States. The
road was exceedingly muddy, but materially improved after passing
Sutter's Fort. We had travelled ten miles, when I found that my feet
were so badly blistered that I could proceed no further, and advised my
companions to go on without me. My feet were in fact almost completely
skinned. After resting at a public-house till the next morning, and
encasing my sore feet in a pair of poor, thin shoes, I pursued my
journey. I made very slow progress. An ox-team overtook me, the owner of
which kept a house, or, more properly speaking, a booth, for boarding
and lodging miners, five or six miles ahead. He kindly offered me a
ride, which I gladly accepted, and lodged with him for the night.
My journey the next day was less fatiguing; on the day following I
arrived at Georgetown, where I found that my brothers had built them a
house and spent the winter, but had now left the place, and removed to
the Middle Fork. The distance was twenty miles by one route and fifteen
by another. The longest road was considered the best, and I followed it,
lodging at night in a low grog-shop, denominated an inn. A snow-storm
detained me here during the next forenoon. By noon it appeared to have
cleared up, and I resumed my march, but had not gone more than a mile
before it began snowing again, as fast as before; yet I was resolved not
to turn back. The snow, however, fell so fast, and with increasing
violence, and the road was so wretched, that this resolution was
somewhat shaken. The way led through a forest of lofty pines, the land
broken by deep _gulches_ and high hills. As I trudged along through the
deep snow, my attention was suddenly attracted to a clump of bushes by
the wayside, that appeared to wave to and fro, as if agitated by
something more than wind. I felt for my knife and pistol, to make sure
they were where they could be made immediately available, placed my hand
on the lock of my rifle, and awaited in silence the approach of my
unseen visitor. Presently a pair of large, glistening eyes glared at me
through an opening in the bushes. Nothing else was discernible; the
form, and even the head, of the animal to whom these fierce optics
appertained, could not be made out. But their gaze was fixed steadily
upon me, and I returned it with equal steadiness, if not equal
brilliancy and effect, without once changing my position. I had heard of
looking wild animals out of countenance, and determined to try the
experiment, before resorting to any other decisive measures. After
gazing fixedly at the mysterious occupant of the thicket for a few
minutes, he turned and walked leisurely away, giving me only an
imperfect view of his figure. So far as I could distinguish the shape,
it appeared to be a grisly bear, though not of the largest size. I was
glad to get rid of so ugly a customer on such easy terms, and went on my
way rejoicing, though it was a weary and desolate one.
Being very much fatigued, I halted at the foot of a large oak-tree, as
the shades of evening were closing around me, with the design of
climbing it, and spending the night as comfortably as I could in its
branches,--the lodging that I had anticipated might be the only
available one. But, after a few minutes' rest, I roused my flagging
energies and concluded to feel--for I could not see--my way a little
further, before _roosting_ for the night. The darkness of the night,
deepened by the storm, hid the path so effectually, that the Yankee
faculty of _guessing_ was called into abundant exercise. I trudged
along, however, with dogged determination, which was very soon rewarded.
Half a mile had scarcely been passed, when a bright light greeted me,
issuing from a tent. Walking up to it, I found it occupied by three men,
emigrants from the vicinity of my native place. They cordially welcomed
and hospitably entertained me, on learning who I was, and promised me
every assistance in their power.
The next morning I set out again, and reached the river. I was at no
loss to designate the spot where my brothers were likely to be found,
but a formidable barrier interposed: a rapid and swollen stream
separated us, just as we were almost within speaking distance. I walked
along the shore to find a log or some wood with which to construct a
float; nothing could be found. It was a grievous disappointment; my evil
star, I thought, had not yet waned. At the opposite shore, fastened to
the branch of a tree, lay a snug little raft, as if in mockery. I must
spend the night, it seemed, on the river banks, without food or shelter,
and within sight of my friends. Just before night I was fortunate enough
to descry a man on the further shore, who appeared to be on the look-out
for some one, and hailed him. He answered, and forthwith took me over. I
was soon in the presence of my two brothers, neither of whom at first
recognized me. It was a happy meeting, and on their part wholly
unexpected, as they had given me up for lost. After many congratulations
and innumerable questions, rapidly interchanged, I mentioned the
difficulty I had in making the last stage of the journey to them,--the
passage of the river. They said that they were on the look-out that
evening for one of their number: otherwise, I might have staid there a
week without attracting the attention of anybody. They congratulated me
on my ill success in searching for a log, or the materials to construct
a float. The attempt to cross would have been extremely hazardous, and
very likely fatal. The river was full of rapids, eccentric currents, and
other perils, making it at all times difficult to cross, with the best
facilities that could be commanded. Of all this I had ample confirmation
in no long time after. Two men started to paddle themselves over in a
canoe at the same place. Before they reached the opposite shore, their
canoe was borne down the stream into the rapids, and dashed to pieces
against the rocks. One of them was drowned; the other caught the top of
a small tree just before reaching the rapids. By collecting all the
ropes and lines we could find, attaching a stone to one end and throwing
it within his reach, the means of rescue, after several trials, were put
into his power. Such was the roar of the waters we could not speak in
tones audible by him, but made signs to him to secure the rope about his
body, and he was drawn to the shore in safety. A similar accident
afterwards happened to one of my brothers, in attempting to cross with
another man upon a raft. The swift current drifted them within the power
of the rapids, and it was only by the greatest exertions that they
escaped the boiling abyss below.