Calculation of time—Singular manner of naming children—Peculiar
modes of address—Anecdote of an Indian chief—Indian forbearance—
Conduct of the whites in Indian countries—Comparison of crime
between Indians and whites—Manner of swaddling infants—Hardships
during infancy—Savage customs—Indian constitution—Chief cause of
scanty population—A day’s journey—Calculation of distance—Rough
roads—Indian ideas—Social habits—Some remarks on the system
adopted for converting Indians to the Christian faith 304
APPENDIX
Chinook Vocabulary 321
Table of the Weather at the Mouth of the Columbia 330
ADVENTURES OF THE FIRST SETTLERS
ON THE COLUMBIA RIVER
CHAPTER I
Introductory remarks—John Jacob Astor—Grasping views—Early traders of
Canada—The Hudson’s Bay Company—American fur companies—Astor’s
policy—Russian settlements—Coasting vessels—The Pacific Fur Company—
Flattering results—Oregon territory—New association—Mr. Hunt—Golden
prospects—Proposals accepted—List of adventurers—Land party—Sea
party—The ship _Tonquin_—Remarks—Opinion against opinion—
Observations—Land expedition departs—Sea party set off for New York—
Bark canoe—Spectators—Canadian voyageurs.
When I first conceived the idea of writing the following narrative, my
design was to begin with a brief outline of the discoveries already made
on the coast of the Pacific, from Drake in 1579 to Vancouver in 1792;[2]
or, rather, down to the present time; but, on second thoughts, I felt
convinced that enough had been done already in that branch of {2}
inquiry; or, at least, that the further prosecution of it might be
better left to those who aspire to literary fame. Mine is an humbler
ambition—not to figure as an author, but to record faithfully, as a
trader, the events in which I bore a part; and, in so doing, to gratify
a desire kindled by an acquaintance with strange scenes and new fields
of action, in a remote country which is still but little known.
The progress of discovery contributes not a little to the enlightenment
of mankind; for mercantile interest stimulates curiosity and adventure,
and combines with them to enlarge the circle of knowledge. To the spirit
of enterprise developed in the service of commercial speculation,
civilized nations owe not only wealth and territorial acquisitions, but
also their acquaintance with the earth and its productions. The
illustration of these remarks will be found in the following pages.
* * * * *
Mr. Astor of New York, a German by birth, but a citizen of the United
States, raised himself, by his adventurous and enterprising spirit, from
small beginnings to be one of the wealthiest and most eminent merchants
in America. Soon after his arrival in the United States, about the year
1784, he commenced his commercial career in the traffic of furs: at
first on a very narrow scale, but gradually expanding as his means
increased. In this way he made visits to Canada, purchasing furs in that
country, and shipping them from thence to the London market: {3} and it
is supposed that at this period his buoyant and aspiring mind conceived
the vast project of grasping in his own hands, at some future day, the
whole fur trade of North America.[3]
The valuable furs and peltries scattered in former days over the
extensive forests, lakes, and rivers of the Canadas, like the rich mines
of Potosi and Mexico, invited many adventurers. The French, for some
time after settling there, carried on an irregular but lucrative traffic
in furs and peltries, with very little opposition, until the year 1670,
when the Hudson’s Bay Company, established by royal charter, took
possession of the territory now called “Rupert’s Land,” or Hudson’s Bay.
The Canada, or as it was more generally called, the North-West Company,
was formed in 1787; and these soon became the two great rival companies
of the north, as we shall have occasion to notice more fully hereafter.
Next on the theatre of action appeared the Mackina Company, which swept
the warm regions of the south, as the two others did those of the wintry
north, until the American Fur Company, established by Mr. Astor in 1809,
commenced operations; but he, finding the Mackina fur traders somewhat
in his way, bought out that Company, and added its territorial resources
in 1811 to those of the American Fur Company. This body corporate was
entitled the South-West, in contradistinction to the North-West
Company.[4]
Mr. Astor now saw himself at the head of all the {4} fur trade of the
south, and his intention was to penetrate through the barriers of the
Northern Company, so as eventually to come into possession of all the
fur trade east of the Rocky Mountains. With this plan still before him,
he now turned his views to the trade on the coast of the Pacific, or
that new field lying west of the Rocky Mountains, and which forms the
subject of our present narrative. In this quarter the Russians alone had
regular trading ports, opposite to Kamtschatka, where they still carry
on a considerable trade in furs and seal-skins, sending them across the
Pacific direct to China. Their capital is limited, and their hunting
grounds almost entirely confined to the sea-coast and islands around
their establishments. The American coasting vessels also frequent this
quarter, collecting vast quantities of valuable furs, which they convey
to the Chinese market. This casual traffic by coasters, yielded to their
owners in former days, by means of the returning cargo, an average clear
gain of a thousand per cent. every second year; but these vessels are
not so numerous of late, nor are the profits thus made so great as
formerly.
The comprehensive mind of Mr. Astor could not but see these things in
their true light, and perceive that if such limited and desultory
traffic produced such immense profits, what might not be expected from a
well-regulated trade, supported by capital and prosecuted with system:
at all events, the Russian trader would then be confined within {5} his
own limits, and the coasting vessels must soon disappear altogether.
Towards the accomplishment of the great plan which he had in view, Mr.
Astor now set about opening a new branch of the fur trade on the
Pacific, under the appellation of the “Pacific Fur Company,” the grand
central depôt of which was to be at the mouth of the Columbia River, the
“Oregon of the Spaniards.”[5] By this means he contemplated carrying off
the furs of all the countries west of the Rocky Mountains; at the same
time forming a chain of trading posts across the Continent, from the
Atlantic to the Pacific, along the waters of the great Missouri:
connecting by this chain the operations of the South-West Company on the
east, with that of the Pacific Fur Company on the west side of the
dividing ridge.
This grand commercial scheme, appearing now plain and practicable, at
least to men of sanguine disposition, gave much satisfaction to the
American public, who, from the results contemplated, became deeply
interested in its success; for all the rich cargoes of furs and peltries
thus to be collected annually over the vast expanse were to be shipped
in American vessels for the great China mart, there to be sold, and the
proceeds invested in a return cargo of teas, silks, beads, and nankeens,
and other articles of high demand in the United States; which would not
only prevent to some extent the American specie from going out of the
Union for such articles, but also turn the barren wilds of the north and
far {6} west into a source of national wealth. Some, however, of the
more sagacious and influential among the Americans themselves observed
to Mr. Astor at the time, that his plan would be likely to give umbrage
to the British, and arouse them to assert more speedily their claims of
prior discovery to the Oregon quarter, and that such a step would
operate against him. To these suggestions Mr. Astor simply observed,
“that he had thought of that, but intended chiefly to employ in his
undertaking British subjects, and that he should on that account give
less offence; besides,” added, he, “the claims of prior discovery and
territorial right are claims to be settled by Government only, and not
by an individual.”
Mr. Astor’s plans, hitherto known only to a few, now began to develope
themselves more publicly. On the first intimation of the scheme, the
North-Westerns took the alarm; for having already, in the prosecution of
their trade, penetrated to the west side of the Rocky Mountains, in the
direction of New Caledonia and the north branch of the Columbia, where
they expected to reap a rich harvest, they viewed Astor’s expedition to
that quarter with a jealous eye, according to the old adage that “two of
a trade seldom agree;” but others again extolled the brilliant project,
as the brightest gem in the American Union, and particularly many of the
retired partners of the North-West Company, who, not being provided for
in some late arrangements, had left that concern in disgust, and
therefore were the most likely {7} to oppose with effect the ambitious
views of their former coadjutors. These were just the men Mr. Astor had
in his eye; men of influence and experience among savages, and who from
their earlier days had been brought up in, and habituated to, the
hardships of the Indian trade. To several of these persons Mr. Astor
disclosed his plans and made proposals, whereupon Messrs. M‘Kay,
M‘Kenzie, M‘Dougall, and Stuart, entered into his views, and became
partners in the new concern.[6] The former of these gentlemen had
accompanied Sir Alexander M‘Kenzie in his voyages of discovery to the
North Polar Sea in 1789, and to the Pacific in 1793, the narratives of
which are before the public; and most of the others had equal
experience, and were all of them in some way or other related to the
great men at the head of the North-West Company.[7]
Articles of association and co-partnership were therefore entered into
and concluded at New York, in the spring of 1810, between those
gentlemen and Mr. Astor, establishing the firm of the Pacific Fur
Company, as already noticed; to which firm five other partners, namely,
Messrs. Hunt, Crooks, Miller, M‘Lellan, and Clarke, were soon afterwards
added.[8] The association was not a joint-stock concern; Mr. Astor alone
furnished the capital, amounting to 200,000 dollars, divided into 100
shares of 2000 dollars each, with power to increase the capital to
500,000 dollars.
The association was formed for a period of twenty {8} years, but with
this proviso, that it was to be dissolved if it proved either
unprofitable or impracticable, after a trial of five years; during which
trial, however, Mr. Astor, as stockholder, was alone to bear all
expenses and losses, the other partners giving only their time and
labour. Of the above shares, Mr. Astor held fifty in his own hands; Mr.
Hunt, as his representative and chief manager of the business, five;
while the other partners, who were to carry on the trade with the
Indians, were to have four each, in the event of the business
succeeding. The remaining shares were reserved for the clerks, who
joined the concern as adventurers, without any other remuneration than
their chances of success at the end of the five years’ trial. The only
exceptions were Mr. Robert Stuart and myself, who were to have our
promotion at the end of the third year. From the proportion of interest,
or number of shares in the hands of the stockholder and his
representative, it will appear evident that the other partners, however
unanimous they might be, could never have gained a majority of votes in
any case over those which might have been by proxy appointed to
represent Astor.
At the head depôt, or general rendezvous, was to be stationed Mr.
Astor’s representative. The person appointed to this important trust was
Wilson Price Hunt, a gentleman from New Jersey, who alone, of the whole
party, had never been engaged in the Indian trade; yet his active
habits, perseverance, and enterprise, soon made good his want of
experience, {9} and enabled him to discharge the duties of his station.
In him was also vested the chief authority, or, in his absence, in
M‘Dougall. It was therefore to either or to both of these gentlemen that
all Mr. Astor’s measures were made known, and all his cargoes consigned.
At the time when these novel schemes were first agitated, I was in Upper
Canada; and the first intimation I had of them was in a letter from Mr.
M‘Kay, the senior partner, requesting an interview with me at Montreal.
To Montreal I accordingly went in the month of May; and there, for the
first time, I saw the gilded prospectus of the new Company, and,
accepting the proposals made to me by Mr. Astor, was the first to join
the expedition;—and who at the time would not have joined it, for,
although the North-Westerns tried to throw all the cold water of the St.
Lawrence on the project, yet they could not extinguish the flame it had
spread abroad. The flattering hopes and golden prospects held out to
adventurers, so influenced the public mind, that the wonder-stricken
believers flocked in from all quarters to share in the wonderful riches
of the far west.
It need not be wondered at, if, under the influence of such extravagant
expectations, many applicants appeared; but in accordance with Astor’s
plan, that the business should be carried on only by persons of
well-tested merit and experience, for on their habits of perseverance
and enterprise alone rested all hopes {10} of ultimate success, his
assistants were selected with more than ordinary care, every poor fellow
that engaged being led to believe that his fortune was already made.
Here Messrs. Franchère, Pillet, M‘Gillis, Farnham, and M‘Lennan, besides
Mr. Stuart and myself, joined the adventurers;[9] besides five tradesmen
or mechanics, and twenty-four canoe men, the best that could be found of
their classes.
Operations were now deemed requisite for the accomplishment of the
Company’s views; therefore, while one party, headed by Mr. Hunt, was
ordered to make its way across the Continent by land, another party,
headed by Mr. M‘Kay, was to proceed by sea in the _Tonquin_, a ship of
300 tons, and mounting twelve guns. The _Tonquin’s_ course was round
Cape Horn, for the north-west coast. The Columbia River was to be the
common destination of both parties. The land party at its outset
consisted of only seventeen persons, but Mr. Hunt’s object was to
augment that number to about eighty as he passed along, by means of
American trappers and hunters from the south. Here M‘Kenzie strongly
recommended Mr. Hunt to take all his men from Canada, as too much time
might probably be lost in collecting them from the south; and besides,
Canadians, as he thought, would answer much better; but Mr. Hunt adhered
to his first plan.
The arrangement of these two expeditions, in which M‘Kay, whose life had
been spent in voyaging through the Indian countries, and who was nowise
{11} qualified as a merchant, had resigned the inland voyage to a
gentleman, bred to mercantile pursuits, but unacquainted with this new
mode of travelling, exhibited such an egregious inversion of the
ordinary rules of prudence, as gave rise to much comment.
Matters being so far settled, Mr. Hunt, who was now seconded by Mr.
M‘Kenzie, left La Chine, nine miles south of Montreal, with the land
expedition, in the beginning of July; and, on the 20th of the same
month, the ship party, consisting of three partners, five clerks, Mr.
Stuart, and myself, five mechanics, and fourteen canoe men, left
Montreal for New York, where we were to embark. Of this number, however,
M‘Kay and eight of the most expert voyageurs proceeded in a bark canoe
through the States: on all such occasions there is a kind of mutual
understanding between both parties, that is, between the canoe men and
the canoe, the former undertaking to carry the latter over the land part
of the journey, while the latter is bound to carry the others safe over
water. The appearance of this unusual kind of craft on the American
waters, with the cheerful chantings of its crew, their feathered caps
and sylvan appearance, as they approached the gay city of New York,
attracted such a crowd of spectators of all classes around them, as left
but little space to land; but what was the astonishment, when, in the
twinkling of an eye, two of the crew were seen to shoulder their craft,
capable of containing {12} two tons weight, and to convey it to a place
of safety on terra firma. Mr. Astor, who happened to be present, was so
delighted with the vivacity and dexterity of the two men, that he gave
them an eagle to drink his health; then turning round, observed to some
gentlemen who were standing by, that “six Americans could not do what
these two brawny fellows had done,” which observation gave rise to some
further remarks, when Mr. M‘Kay, with an air of confidence, challenged
the swiftest New York boat for a three mile race, offering to bet ten to
one on his canoe men, but, after what had been witnessed, no one
appeared disposed to risk his money. It is scarcely necessary in this
place to observe, that the Canadian voyageurs are among the most expert
and venturesome canoe men in the world.
{13} CHAPTER II[10]
The _Tonquin_ sails—Quarrels on board—The captain’s character—
Accommodations—A sudden squall—Flying fish—The captain’s harshness—
Cape de Verd Islands—Alarm of fire—A suspicious sail—Crossing the
line—Springing a leak—Short allowance of water—Immense wave—The
Falkland Islands—Rocky passage—Wild fowl—Port Egmont Bay—The party
on shore—Mr. Farnham’s gray goose—Old graves renewed—Epitaphs—Party
left behind—New dangers—Mr. Robert Stuart’s determined conduct—Feuds
on board—Cape Horn doubled—The weather—Pilot fish—Trade winds—
Rogues’ mess—Little pilot—Mouna Roa—A man overboard—The mate in
irons.
On the 6th of September, 1810, all hands—twenty-two belonging to the
ship, and thirty-three passengers—being on board, the _Tonquin_ set
sail, and a fresh breeze springing up, soon wafted her to a distance
from the busy shores of New York. We had not proceeded far, when we were
joined by the American frigate _Constitution_, which was to escort us
clear of the coast. On the 7th, in the afternoon, we passed Sandy Hook
lighthouse, and the next day the _Constitution_ returned, we dismissed
our pilot, and were soon out of sight of land, steering a S.E. course.
{14} So far all was bustle and confusion upon deck, and every place in
the ship was in such topsy-turvy state, with what sailors call live and
dead lumber, that scarcely any one knew how or where he was to be
stowed; and it was in settling this knotty point that the crusty
supremacy of the high-minded captain was first touched. Captain Jonathan
Thorn had been brought up in the American navy, had signalized himself,
and upon the present occasion he stood upon his own quarter-deck.
Matters went on well enough till we came to the mechanics: these young
men had been selected from the most respectable of their class, had been
promised by their employers situations as clerks in the trade whenever
vacancies should occur, and in consequence, serving in the twofold
capacity of clerks and tradesmen, they were entitled, by their
engagements, whilst on board ship to the same treatment as the other
clerks; but behold when the captain came to assign them their place, it
was not in either the second or the third cabin, no, nor in the
steerage, but before the mast among the common sailors. In vain did they
remonstrate, and equally vain was it for them to produce copies of their
engagements; right or wrong, forward they must go; but that was not all;
to the grievance of bad accommodations was added that of an insult to
their feelings, by being compelled, as a further punishment for their
obstinacy, to perform the duties of common seamen both by day and night.
After this bit of a row with the captain, they applied for {15} redress
to the partners on board, the very persons with whom they had executed
their agreements. The partners interposed, and in their turn
remonstrated with the captain, but without effect; he remained
inexorable. Both parties then getting into a violent passion, Mr. M‘Kay
said, “That his people would defend themselves rather than suffer such
treatment.” On hearing this, the captain, suddenly turning round on his
heel, defied Mr. M‘Kay and his people, adding, “that he would blow out
the brains of the first man who dared to disobey his orders on board his
own ship.” In the midst of this scene, Mr. David Stuart, a good old
soul, stept up, and by his gentle and timely interference put an end to
the threatening altercation.
This was the first specimen we had of the captain’s disposition, and it
laid the foundation of a rankling hatred between the partners and
himself, which ended only with the voyage, and not only that, but it
soon spread like a contagion amongst all classes, so that party spirit
ran high: the captain and his people viewing the passengers as the
passengers did them, with no very cordial feelings. Whilst these feuds
agitated the great folks at the head of affairs, we amused ourselves
with conjectures as to the issue of the contest. A new leaf was to be
turned over, the captain forbade the partners the starboard side of the
quarter-deck; the clerks, the quarter-deck altogether; and as for the
poor mechanics and Canadians, they were ruled ever after with a rod of
iron. All this {16} time the _Tonquin_ was speeding her way proudly over
the wide bosom of the Atlantic, until the 18th, in the morning, when she
was struck with a sudden squall, which backed all the sails and placed
her in a critical position for about two minutes; her stern going down
foremost was almost under water, when all at once she recovered and
relieved our anxiety. The next day two sail were descried a head, all
hands were mustered on deck, and each had his station assigned to him in
case of coming to close quarters. For some days past the flying fish
appeared in immense numbers, passing frequently through the ship’s
rigging, and now and then falling on the deck. We measured one of them
and found its length to be 5½ inches, circumference of the body 2
inches; the wings, situate near the gills, resemble in texture the wings
of the bat, and measure, when stretched, 5 inches between the tips. In
their flight they generally rise to 15 or 20 feet above the surface of
the water, and fly about 150 yards at a time. As soon as their wings get
dry they fall again into the water, and only fly to avoid their
pursuers. They are the prey of the dolphin and other large fishes.
On the 6th of October we made one of the Cape de Verd Islands, on the
coast of Africa. It proved to be Bonavista, in lat. 16° N. and long. 22°
47′ W. The land, covered with a blue haze, appeared broken, barren, and
rocky. The weather was overcast, and we had heavy rain and thunder at
the time. Near this place immense shoals of porpoises kept skipping {17}
on the surface of the water going southwards. They were said to
prognosticate the near approach of bad weather. We found the changes of
the weather here very remarkable, from calm to rough, from foul to fair;
clear, cloudy, wet, dry, hazy, and squally alternately, with the usual
finale of mist and rain, and not unfrequently all these changes within
the twenty-four hours.
After leaving the land, some of the gentlemen amused themselves one fine
evening with shooting at a mark suspended from the ship’s stern, under
which a boat lay secured; soon afterwards, in the dusk of the evening,
smoke was seen to issue from that quarter; the alarm of fire was given,
and in an instant all the people assembled on deck in a state of wild
confusion, some calling out to broach the water-casks, others running to
and fro in search of water, some with mugs, others with decanters, while
the _mâitre de cuisine_ was robbed of his broth and dish water—no one,
in the hurry and bustle of the moment, ever thought of dipping the
buckets alongside. At length to the inexpressible joy of all, it was
discovered that the smoke was occasioned only by the wadding of the guns
setting fire to some old junk which was lying in the boat astern. This
gentle warning, however, put an end to such sport in future. Some angry
words took place between the captain and Mr. Fox, the first mate, on
which the latter was suspended from duty, and ordered below: no other
reason could be assigned for this act but {18} the friendly and sociable
terms existing between the mate and the partners; for by this time such
was the ill feeling between the captain and the passengers generally,
that scarcely a word passed between them. After three days’ confinement
Mr. Fox was reinstated.
Just as we entered the trade winds, a sail appeared about two leagues to
leeward; she gained fast upon us, and dogged us all day, and the next
morning was close under our stern. She appeared to be an armed brig, and
pierced for twenty guns, and looked very suspicious; very few hands,
however, were to be seen on her deck, which might have been a manœuvre
to decoy us alongside. We were prepared for combat, at least as far as a
good display of numbers on deck: for to our numbers, and not to either
our skill or discipline, did we chiefly trust, and it is probable this
show had the desired effect, for she soon bore away and we saw her no
more.
On the 25th, in long. 26° 24′ W. we crossed the equinoctial line, and
here the usual ceremony of ducking was performed on such of the sailors
as had never before entered the southern hemisphere. The heat was
intense, the weather a dead calm, and the ocean smooth as a sheet of
glass. The thermometer stood at 92° in the shade.
In lat. 3° 17′ S. and long. 26° 40′ W. we spoke a brig from Liverpool
bound to Pernambuco. On nearing this old and ghastly-looking hulk, which
apparently had but few hands on board, we thought {19} ourselves
exceedingly strong compared to her, and I suppose from the bold front we
presented, put her in as much bodily fear as the armed brig some days
before did us.
On the 10th of November a violent gale came on, which lasted for fifty
hours without intermission, and did us considerable damage, our jib and
jib-boom being both carried off, and a leak of considerable extent
sprung; but as it was easy of access, we soon got it stopped again. In
the night of the 14th, an alarm of fire was again given; but after much
confusion it ended without serious consequences. Of all calamities that
of fire on board ship seems to be the most terrific, and every
precaution was taken to prevent any accident of the kind, for at nine
o’clock every night all the lights were, by the captain’s orders, put
out, and this rule was strictly observed during the voyage. In these
latitudes we saw many turtle, and caught some of them sleeping on the
water, one of which weighed forty-five pounds; we also frequently met
with what the sailors call a Portuguese man-of-war, or sea-bladder,
floating on the surface of the waters.
In lat. 35° S. and 42° 17′ W. we experienced another tempestuous gale,
which lasted upwards of forty hours. During this violent storm the ship
laboured hard, and sustained damage. Two new leaks were observed, and
many of the sails blown to rags. Although the top and top-gallant masts
had been lowered, six of the guns got dismounted, and {20} kept for some
time rolling like thunder on the deck, and the ship in a constant heavy
sea. For seventeen hours she scudded before the wind, and went in that
time two hundred and twenty miles; nothing alarming, however, took place
until eight o’clock in the morning of the second day, when a very heavy
sea broke over the stern, and filled us all with consternation. This
wave, like a rolling mountain, passed over her deck ten feet high, and
broke with a tremendous crash about the mainmast; yet, fortunately, no
lives were lost, for on its near approach we all clung to the rigging,
and by that means saved ourselves. On the weather moderating the
carpenter was soon at work, and succeeded effectually in stopping the
leaks. On the 20th our allowance of water, already short by one-half,
was lessened to a pint and a half per man, and on the 2nd of December to
a pint each man per day—then a gallon of brandy was offered for a pint
of fresh water! but on the 5th, when the joyful sight of land was
announced, a hogshead of water was offered in return for a pint of
brandy. In the afternoon of this day, we made the N. W. point of one of
the Falkland Islands, the rugged and solitary features of which
presented a truly romantic appearance. Near this spot are three
remarkable peaked rocks, or insular bluffs, of considerable height, and
nearly equal distance from each other. We soon afterwards came close in
with the shore, and beheld a rocky surface, with an aspect of hopeless
sterility. {21} Here we came to an anchor; but the captain not liking
the place changed his resolution of taking in water there.
During the few hours, however, which we spent on shore, while the ship
lay at anchor, one of the sailors, named Johnston, strolled out of the
way. The captain, nevertheless, gave orders to weigh anchor, declaring
that he would leave the fellow to his fate; but after much entreaty he
consented to wait an hour, adding, that if the man did not return in
that time he should never more set foot on board his ship. A party
immediately volunteered to go in search of the lost tar. This party
after beating about in vain for some time, at last thought of setting
fire to the few tufts of grass which here and there alone decked the
surface. This expedient succeeded, and the man was found, having fallen
asleep near the water’s edge. But the hour had unfortunately elapsed,
and the loss of a few minutes more so enraged the captain, that he not
only threatened the man’s life, but maltreated all those who had been
instrumental in finding him. We then set sail, and had much difficulty
in effecting a passage through a narrow strait which lay before us,
interrupted in many places by ledges of rocks, which were literally
covered with seals, penguins, white and grey geese, ducks, shags,
albatrosses, eagles, hawks, and vultures. After making our way through
this intricate pass, we again came to anchor.
{22} On the 7th of December we anchored in Port Egmont Bay, for the
purpose of taking in a supply of water. The bay or inlet of Port Egmont
is about a mile long, and half a mile broad, and sheltered from almost
every wind that blows. All hands now were set to work; two of the mates
and two-thirds of the crew, together with the mechanics and Canadians,
commenced replenishing the water-casks, whilst the other two mates with
the remainder of the people were employed on board repairing the
rigging, and putting everything in a fit condition for a new start.
During these operations the partners and clerks, and frequently the
captain also, went sporting on shore, where wild fowl of all kinds
stunned our ears with their noises, and darkened the air with their
numbers, and were generally so very tame, or rather stupid, that we
often killed them with sticks and stones, and the sailors in their boats
often knocked down the ducks and penguins with their oars in passing the
rocks. The only quadruped we saw on land was a wolverine of ordinary
size, which one of our party shot.
Our tent was pitched on shore, not above four hundred yards from the
ship; this was our sporting rendezvous. On the 10th all the water-casks
were ready, and the captain on going on board that evening said to Mr.
M‘Dougall, that the ship would probably sail the next day. Soon after,
however, Messrs. M‘Kay and M‘Dougall also went on board, where they
passed the night; but coming ashore {23} the next morning, they told us
that the ship would not sail till the 12th, and that all hands were
ordered on board on that night.
In the mean time Mr. Farnham, one of the clerks, had caught a grey
goose, which he tied to a stone between our hut and the landing-place,
in order to have some sport with it. Soon afterwards the captain,
happening to come on shore, and seeing the goose, he up with his gun to
shoot at it. Thinking, however, that he had missed it, he instantly
reloaded and fired again, and seeing the goose flutter he ran up to
catch it, when he discovered his mistake, on which we all burst out a
laughing. Nettled at this, he immediately turned round and went on board
again. Meantime, Messrs. M‘Dougall and Stuart started across the point
after game; whilst Mr. M‘Kay, myself, and some others, went up the bay a
little to repair two old graves which we had discovered in a dilapidated
state the day before. On one of these graves was the following
rudely-cut inscription on a board:—“William Stevens, aged twenty-two
years, killed by a fall from a rock, on the 21st of September, 1794;” on
the other, “Benjamin Peak died of the smallpox on the 5th of January,
1803, ship _Eleonora_, Captain Edmund Cole, Providence, Rhode Island.”
While we were thus eagerly employed, little did we suspect what was
going on in another quarter; for, about two o’clock in the afternoon,
one of our party called out, “The ship’s off!”—when all of us, {24}
running to the top of a little eminence, beheld, to our infinite
surprise and dismay, the _Tonquin_, under full sail, steering out of the
bay. We knew too well the callous and headstrong passions of the wayward
captain to hesitate a moment in determining what to do; with hearts,
therefore, beating between anxious hope and despair, some made for the
boat, whilst others kept running and firing over hill and dale to warn
Messrs. M‘Dougall and Stuart, who had not yet returned. In half an hour
we were all at the water’s edge; the ship by this time was three miles
out at sea. We were now nine persons on shore, and we had to stow,
squat, and squeeze ourselves into a trumpery little boat, scarcely
capable of holding half our number. In this dreadful dilemma, we
launched on a rough and tempestuous sea, and, against wind and tide,
followed the ship. The wind blowing still fresher and fresher, every
succeeding wave threatened our immediate destruction. Our boat already
half full of water, and ourselves, as may be supposed, drenched with the
surges passing over her, we gave up all hope of succeeding in the
unequal struggle, and a momentary pause ensued, when we deliberated
whether we should proceed in the perilous attempt or return to land. The
ship was now at least two leagues ahead of us, and just at this time the
man who was bailing out the water in the boat unfortunately let go and
lost the pail, and one of our oars being broken in the struggle to
recover it, our destiny seemed sealed beyond a doubt. A second
deliberation {25} ended in the resolve to reach the ship or perish in
the attempt. The weather now grew more violent; the wind increased; and,
what was worst of all, the sun had just sunk under the horizon, and the
fearful night began to spread its darkness over the turbulent deep.
Every ray of hope now vanished: but so shortsighted is man, that the
moment when he least expects it, relief often comes from an unseen hand;
and such was our case; for in an instant our hopeless anxiety was turned
into joy by the ship suddenly making down to our assistance: but here
again we had a new danger to contend with; for, on coming alongside, we
were several times like to be engulfed or dashed to pieces by the heavy
seas and rolling of the ship. The night was dark; the weather stormy;
and death in a thousand forms stared us in the face. At length, after
many ineffectual attempts and much manœuvring, we succeeded in getting
on board; having been in the boat upwards of six hours. That the
captain’s determination was to leave us all to our fate, there is not
the least doubt; for he declared so afterwards, in a letter written to
Mr. Astor from the Sandwich Islands, and he was only prevented from
carrying his purposes into effect by the determined conduct of Mr.
Robert Stuart, who, seizing a brace of pistols, peremptorily told the
captain to order about ship and save the boat; or, he added, “You are a
dead man this instant.”
During the night the gale increased almost to a hurricane, so that two
of our sails were torn to pieces, {26} and the side-rails broke by the
labouring of the ship; so we had to lie-to under a storm-staysail for
six hours. The reader is here left to picture to himself how matters
went on after the scene just described. All the former feuds and
squabbles between the captain and passengers sink into insignificance
compared to the recent one. Sullen and silent, both parties passed and
repassed each other in their promenades on deck without uttering a word;
but their looks bespoke the hatred that burnt within. The partners on
the quarter-deck made it now a point to speak nothing but the Scotch
dialect; while the Canadians on the forecastle spoke French—neither of
which did the captain understand; and as both groups frequently passed
hours together, cracking their jokes and chanting their outlandish
songs, the commander seemed much annoyed on these occasions, pacing the
deck in great agitation. Yet all this time the ship good was hastening
on her way.
On the 15th we saw Staten Land, whose forked peaks and rugged surface
exhibited much snow. Soon afterwards, Terra del Fuego came in sight; and
on the 19th, at 9 o’clock in the morning, we had a full view of Cape
Horn. But adverse winds meeting us here, we were unable to double it
before Christmas morning, and were carried, in the mean time, as far
south as lat. 58° 16′. While in these latitudes, notwithstanding the
foggy state of the weather, we could read common print at all hours of
the night on deck without the aid of artificial light. The sky was {27}
generally overcast, and the weather raw and cold, with frequent showers
of hail and snow, but we saw no ice. Here the snow birds and Cape pigeon
frequently flew in great numbers about the ship. After doubling the
Cape, a speckled red and white fish, about the size of a salmon, was
observed before the ship’s bow, as if leading the way. The sailors gave
it the name of the pilot fish.
With gladdened hearts, we now bent our course northward on the wide
Pacific. On the 19th of January, 1811, all hands passed the ordeal of
inspection, or as the sailors more appropriately called it, the “general
turn-out;” and as none could guess what this new manœuvre portended, we
all judged it to be a relic of man-of-war discipline, which the captain
introduced merely to refresh his memory; but the proceeding must be
described:—After breakfast, all hands were summoned on deck, and there
ordered to remain, while the officers of the ship got up the trunks,
chests, hammocks, dirty shirts, and old shoes belonging to each
individual, on deck. They were then ordered to empty out the contents of
the boxes, examine, and expose the whole to view, each man’s
paraphernalia separately. While this was going on, the bystanders were
ordered to claim any article belonging to them in the possession of
another. This declaration cleared up the matter, and set our judgment
right as to the captain’s motives; but to the credit of all, very little
stolen property was found—being only three articles, namely, a pamphlet,
a clasp-knife, {28} and a spoon, and even as to them the theft was not
very well proved; but the three individuals implicated were nevertheless
condemned, and placed on what is called the “rogue’s mess” for a month.
On the 24th we again crossed the Equator, and entered the northern
hemisphere, and here the pilot fish that joined us at Cape Horn
disappeared. During a run of upwards of 5,000 miles, our little
piscatory pilot was never once known, by day or night, to intermit
preceding the ship’s bow. On the 10th of February, the cloud-capped
summit of the towering Mouna Roa—a pyramidal mountain in Owhyhee, and
the loftiest in the Sandwich Islands—was visible at the distance of 50
miles.
As we drew near to the land, going at the rate of eight knots an hour, a
Canadian lad named Joseph LaPierre fell overboard. This was an awkward
accident, as all eyes were at the time gazing with admiration on the
scenery of the land. In an instant, however, the sails were backed,
boats lowered, and everything at hand thrown overboard to save the
drowning man; but before he could be picked up the ship had distanced
him more than a mile, and when the boatswain reached the ship with the
body, the captain, in his usual sympathizing mood, peremptorily ordered
him about to pick up all the trumpery which had been thrown into the
water. This took a considerable time. The apparently lifeless body was
then hoisted on board, and every means tried to restore animation, and
at last, by rolling the body in warm {29} blankets, and rubbing it with
salt, the lad recovered, after being thirty-eight minutes in the water,
and though unable to swim.
Mr. Fox, who had again fallen under the captain’s displeasure, and who
had been, in consequence, off duty for a week past, was reinstated this
morning. This was no sooner done, however, than the fourth mate, the
captain’s own brother, was put into irons. The young Thorn was as
factious and morose a subject as his brother; with this only difference,
that he had less power to do mischief. He had maltreated one of the
passengers; and the captain, in order to show impartiality, awarded him
the above punishment.
{30} CHAPTER III[11]
Karakakooa Bay—The sailors desert—The captain’s conduct—Productions of
Owhyhee—Tocaigh Bay—Governor Young—Royal proclamation—Woahoo—
Ourourah, the residence of Tammeatameah—Harbour fees—Excursion on
shore—The Queen’s umbrella—The King’s appearance—Royal palace and
guards—Arsenal, or royal workshop—Royal dinner—His Majesty’s fleet—
Morais, or places of public worship—Sacred or puranee ground
tabooed—Storm—A sailor left to his fate among the natives—Parting
visit from his Majesty—His meanness—Diving of the natives—Native
proas: how made—Clothing—Customs and peculiarities—Character of the
women—White men at the Sandwich Islands—The King’s disposition
towards foreigners—Captain Cook—Pahooas, or war spears—A sham fight—
Religion—Tammeatameah conqueror and king—Apparent happiness of the
natives—Prophetic hint—Distressed situation of a boat.
On the 13th of February the ship anchored in Karakakooa Bay, in the
island of Owhyhee, and within a mile of the place where the unfortunate
Captain Cook fell in 1779. The Sandwich Islands are eleven in number,
and lie between the 19th and 22nd parallels of N. latitude, and the
meridians of 151° and 160° W. longitude. The climate is warm but
healthy, and more temperate and uniform than {31} is usual in tropical
countries; nor is it subject to hurricanes and earthquakes. In their
customs and manners the natives resemble the New Zealanders, and like
them are a warlike people: all classes tattoo their bodies.
Karakakooa Bay is about a mile or more in extent, but sheltered only on
one side, which presents a high rugged front of coral rock, resembling a
rampart or battery in the bottom of the bay, facing the ocean, with two
bushy trees on it waving in the wind like flags. The shores, with the
exception of the above-mentioned rock, are everywhere low, with here and
there clumps of cocoa-nut and other trees, which give a pleasing variety
to the scene; and the land, rising gradually as it recedes to a
considerable height, looks down over intervening hill and dale upon the
delightful little villages of Kakooa and Kowrowa.
We were now near land, and the captain’s conduct to both passengers and
crew had fostered a spirit of desertion among the sailors: Jack Tar,
slipping off in the night, was seen no more. This new feature in our
affairs portended no good, but brought about a sweeping change, for the
captain had now no resource but to place his chief confidence in those
whom he had all along maltreated and affected to despise. In this state
of things, the natives were employed to bring back the deserters. One
Roberts, a yankee, was confined below; Ems, a Welshman, was tied up and
flogged; Johnston, an Englishman, {32} was put in irons; and Anderson,
the boatswain, could not be found. Storming and stamping on deck, the
captain called up all hands; he swore, he threatened, and abused the
whole ship’s company, making, if possible, things worse. I really pitied
the poor man, although he had brought all this trouble upon himself:
with all his faults he had some good qualities, and in his present
trying situation we all forgot our wrongs, and cheerfully exerted
ourselves to help him out of his difficulties. The clerks were appointed
to assist the officers, and the Canadians to supply the place of the
sailors in keeping watch and doing the other duties on shore; while the
partners, forgetting former animosities, joined hand in hand with the
captain in providing for the wants of the ship.
Order being now restored, the partners and some of the clerks went
occasionally on shore; meantime, the natives having paid several visits
on board, and sounded our bargain-making chiefs (for they are shrewd
dealers), a brisk trade commenced in plantains, bananas, yams, taro,
bread-fruit, sweet potatoes, sugar-canes, cocoa-nuts, and some pork, the
principal productions of the place. We had not been long here, however,
till we learned that the chief of the island resided at a place called
Tocaigh Bay, some distance off; and as we expected a further and better
supply there, we sailed for that place, where we had an interview with
the governor, a white man, named John Young. He received us kindly, and
with {33} every mark of attention peculiar to an Indian chief; showed us
his wife, his daughter, his household, and vassals—a strange assemblage
of wealth and poverty, filth and plenty.
Governor Young was a native of England, and belonged to an American
ship, the _Eleanor_, of which he was boatswain. That vessel, happening
to touch at the Sandwich Islands in 1790, left Young there to shift for
himself; but his nautical skill and good conduct soon recommended him to
the reigning prince, Tammeatameah, and he is now Viceroy or Governor of
Owhyhee. He is about 60 years of age, shrewd, and healthy; but, from his
long residence among the natives, he has imbibed so much of their habits
and peculiarities, that he is now more Indian than white man.
We had not been long at the village of Tocaigh, when Governor Young gave
us to understand that no rain had fallen in that neighbourhood during
the four preceding years, and that in consequence provisions were very
scarce, and good water was not to be found there at any time. These
details were discouraging. The natives, however, began a brisk trade in
fruits and vegetables; we, however, were desirous of purchasing hogs and
goats, but were told that the sale of pork had been prohibited by royal
proclamation, and that, without the permission of the king, who resided
in the island of Woahoo, no subject could dispose of any. Anxious to
complete our supplies, we immediately resolved on sailing to Woahoo.
{34} On the 21st of February, we cast anchor abreast of Ourourah, the
metropolis of Woahoo, and royal residence of Tammeatameah. This is the
richest and most delightful spot in the whole archipelago. On our
approaching the land, two white officers came on board; the one a
Spaniard, secretary to his majesty; the other a Welshman, the harbour
master: the latter brought us safe to anchor in Whyteete Bay, for which
service he demanded and was paid five Spanish dollars.
The royal village of Ourourah is situate at the foot of a hill, facing
the ocean, on the west side of the island. The houses were 740 in
number, and contained 2025 inhabitants. It will appear strange that so
few inhabitants should require so many houses, but this will be
explained hereafter. Behind the village there is an extensive field
under fine cultivation—perhaps it may measure 500 acres; but its
appearance was greatly injured by irregular enclosures, or rather
division lines, formed of loose stones running on the surface,
intersecting and crossing each other in every possible direction, for
the purpose of marking the plot claimed by each individual or family:
the whole is cultivated with much skill and industry, the soil teemingly
rich, and the labour abundant, with here and there small water-courses
and aqueducts.
Immediately after coming to anchor, Captain Thorn, accompanied by Mr.
M‘Kay and Mr. M‘Dougall, waited on his majesty, Tammeatameah, {35} and
after dining with him, returned on board. In the afternoon his majesty
and three queens returned the visit in state, the royal canoe being
paddled by sixteen chiefs, with the state arm-chest on board. Their
majesties were received with becoming ceremony. The flag was displayed,
and three guns fired. The king was conducted to the cabin followed by
his valet, who held a spitting-box in his hand, but the queens preferred
remaining on deck. While here, they very unceremoniously disrobed
themselves, plunged overboard, and after swimming and sporting for some
time in the water, came on board again and dressed themselves, after
which they joined Tammeatameah in the cabin, where they did ample
justice to a good collation, drank two bottles of wine, and left us
apparently well pleased with their reception. The chiefs remained all
the time in the royal yacht alongside.
Tammeatameah appeared to be about fifty years of age; straight and
portly, but not corpulent; his countenance was pleasing, but his
complexion rather dark, even for an Indian. He had on a common beaver
hat, a shirt, and neckcloth, which had once been white; a long blue coat
with velvet collar, a cassimere vest, corduroy trousers, and a pair of
strong military shoes; he also wore a long and not inelegant sword,
which he said he got from his brother, the king of England.
During these interviews and visits of ceremony, the captain had broached
the subject of pork to {36} his majesty; but this was not the work of an
hour nor of a day; pork was a royal monopoly, and the king well knew how
to turn it to his advantage on the present occasion, for several
conferences were held, and all the _pros_ and _cons_ of a hard bargain
discussed, before the royal contract was concluded. Time however,
brought it about, and the negotiation was finally closed; the king
furnished the requisite supplies of hogs, goats, poultry, and
vegetables, for all of which a stipulated quantity of merchandise was to
be given in return. Business now commenced, and good water and
provisions were brought to the ship in boat-loads; and as the king
further pledged himself, that if any of the sailors deserted he would
answer for their safe delivery again, this assurance, although the words
of kings are not always sacred, had the effect of relieving the
passengers from the ship’s duties; we were, therefore, enabled to go on
shore.
On walking up to the royal city on our first landing, we were met by two
of the queens, accompanied by a page of honour. They were all three
walking abreast, the page in the middle, and holding with his two hands
a splendid parasol of the richest silk, measuring six feet eight inches
in diameter. From this umbrella hung twelve massy tassels, weighing at
least a pound each. The ladies were very communicative, and after
detaining us for nearly half an hour passed on. We were soon afterwards
introduced to his majesty, who honoured us with a glass of arrack. Here
{37} we had a full view of the royal palace, the royal family, and the
life-guards. The palace consisted of thirteen houses, built so as to
form a square. All the buildings of the country are a kind of wicker
work, remarkable for their neatness and regularity; and although
slender, they appear to be strong and durable; nor did there appear any
difference between the royal buildings and the other houses of the
place, the square and courtyard excepted. The king occupied three of
these houses; one for eating, another for sleeping, and the third for
business, which may be called the audience chamber. Each of the queens
occupied three also; a dressing house, a sleeping house, and an eating
house. His majesty never enters any of the queens’ houses, nor do they
ever enter any of his: in this respect, they are always tabooed. There
is a house set apart exclusively for their interviews. The established
custom of the land is that each family, however poor, invariably
occupies three houses; and this will explain why so many houses are
required for so few inhabitants.
We also saw two of the king’s sons; one of them was in disgrace and
tabooed; that is, interdicted from speaking with anybody. We were next
shown the life-guards, consisting of forty men, accoutred in something
of the English style, with muskets, belts, and bayonets; but their
uniform was rather old and shabby. The parade-ground, or place where the
guards were on duty, lay just behind the royal buildings, on a level
square green spot made up for the {38} purpose, and on which were placed
eighteen four or six pounders, all mounted, and apparently in good
order.
From this we proceeded to a long narrow range of buildings, where a
number of artisans were at work, making ship, sloop, and boat tackling,
ropes, blocks, and all the other _et ceteras_ required for his majesty’s
fleet; while others again, in a wing of the same building, were employed
in finishing single and double canoes; the former for pleasure, the
latter for commercial purposes. At the far end of the buildings was
erected a blacksmith’s forge; and beyond that, in a side room, lay the
masts, spars, and rigging of a new schooner. The tools used by the
different workmen were very simple, slender, few, and ill-made, and yet
the work done by them surprised us.
While in the workshops, Mr. M‘Kay took a fancy to a small knot of wood,
about the size of a pint-pot, and asked it of the king. His majesty took
the bit of wood in his hand, and after looking at it for some time
turned round to Mr. M‘Kay and said, “This is a very valuable piece of
wood; it is the finest koeye, and what my Erees make their pipes of; but
if you will give me a new hat for it, you can have it.” Mr. M‘Kay
smiled, adding, “Your majesty shall have it.” So the bargain was struck,
but Mr. M‘Kay fell in love with no more of his majesty’s wood. They make
their own cloth, cordage, salt, sugar, and whisky.
{39} The king then invited us to dine; and entering a small wretched
hovel adjoining the workshop, we all sat down round a dirty little
table, on which was spread some viands, yams, taro, cocoa-nuts, pork,
bread-fruit, and arrack. The king grew very jovial, ate and drank
freely, and pressed us to follow his example. After dinner, he
apologized for the meanness of the place, by saying that his banqueting
house was tabooed that day. Dinner being over, he brought us to see a
large stone building, the only one of the kind on the island, situate at
some distance from the other buildings; but he showed no disposition to
open the door and let us have a peep at the inside. He said it cost him
2,000 dollars. We were told the royal treasure and other valuables were
kept there. Behind the stone building, and near the shore, was lying at
anchor an old ship of about 300 tons, with some guns and men on deck—
said to be the guard-ship. From this position, we saw sixteen vessels of
different sizes, from 10 to 200 tons, all lying in a wretched and
ruinous condition along the beach; some on shore, others afloat, but all
apparently useless. The day being excessively warm, and our curiosity
gratified, we took leave of his majesty, and staid for the night at the
house of a Mr. Brown, an American settler, who had resided on the island
for several years.
After passing an agreeable night, we bade adieu to our hospitable
landlord, and set out to view the morais, or places of public worship.
Of these, Ourourah {40} alone contains fifteen of this description. Each
morai is composed of several miserable-looking little huts, or houses.
Passing by all the inferior ones, we at length reached the king’s morai,
or principal one of the place. It consisted of five low, gloomy, and
pestiferous houses, huddled close together; and alongside of the
principal one stood an image made of wood, resembling a pillar, about 28
feet high, in the shape of the human figure, cut and carved with various
devices; the head large, and the rude sculpture on it presenting the
likeness of a human face, carved on the top with a black cowl. About
thirty yards from the houses, all round about, was a clear spot called
the “king’s tabooed ground,” surrounded by an enclosure. This sacred
spot is often rigorously tabooed and set apart for penance. It was while
walking to and fro on this solitary place that we saw Tatooirah, the
king’s eldest son, who was in disgrace. We were prevented from entering
within the enclosure. At the foot of this pagot, or pillar, were
scattered on the ground several dead animals: we saw four dogs, two
hogs, five cats, and large quantities of vegetables, almost all in a
state of putrefaction, the whole emitting a most offensive smell. On the
death of the king or other great eree, and in times of war, human
sacrifices are frequently offered at the shrine of this moloch. The word
_taboo_ implies interdiction or prohibition from touching the place,
person, or thing tabooed; a violation of which is always severely
punished, and at the king’s morai, with death.
{41} We had scarcely got on board, late in the evening, when a
tremendous gale from the land arose and drove the ship out to sea. The
fury of the tempest and darkness of the night obliged us to cut cable,
and two days were spent in anxious forebodings, ere we got back again
into harbour.
On the 27th, all our supplies, according to contract, were safe on
board; and from the good conduct of the sailors since our arrival, we
began to think matters would go on smoothly for the future; but these
hopes were of short duration—the hasty and choleric disposition of the
captain destroyed our anticipations. Two of the boats had gone on shore
as usual; but on the call for all hands to embark, three of the sailors
were missing. The boats, without waiting a moment, pushed off, but had
reached the ship only fifteen minutes before two of the three men
arrived in an Indian canoe. Notwithstanding the anxiety they manifested,
and their assurance that the boat had not been off five minutes before
they were on the beach, they were both tied up, flogged, and then put in
irons. But this was not all; Emms, the third man, not being able to
procure a canoe, had unfortunately to pass the night on shore, but
arrived the next morning by sunrise. On arriving alongside, the captain,
who was pacing the deck at the time did not wait till he got on board,
but jumping into a boat which lay alongside, laid hold of some
sugar-canes with which the boat was loaded, and bundled the poor fellow,
sprawling and speechless, at {42} his feet; then jumping on deck, kept
pacing to and fro in no very pleasant mood; but on perceiving Emms still
struggling to get up, he leaped into the boat a second time, and called
one of the sailors to follow him. The poor fellow, on seeing the
captain, called out for mercy; but in his wrath the captain forgot
mercy, and laid him again senseless at his feet, then ordered him to be
thrown overboard! Immediately on throwing the man into the sea, Mr. Fox
made signs to some Indians, who dragged him into their canoe and paddled
off to shore. During this scene, no one interfered; for the captain, in
his frantic fits of passion, was capable of going any lengths, and would
rather have destroyed the expedition, the ship, and every one on board,
than be thwarted in what he considered as ship discipline, or his
nautical duties.
In the evening, the Indians brought Emms again to the ship. Here the
little fellow implored forgiveness, and begged to be taken on board; but
the captain was inexorable, and threatened him with instant death if he
attempted to come alongside. Soon after he made his appearance again,
but with no better effect. He then asked for his protection, a paper
which the American sailors generally take with them to sea. The captain
returning no answer to this request, Mr. Fox contrived to throw his
clothes and protection overboard unperceived, at the same time making
signs to the Indians to convey them to Emms. On receiving the little
bundle, he remained {43} for some time without uttering a word; at last,
bursting into tears, he implored again and again to be admitted on
board, but to no purpose. All hopes now vanishing, the heroic little
fellow, standing up in the canoe, took off his cap, and waving it in the
air, with a sorrowful heart bade adieu to his shipmates; the canoe then
paddled to land, and we saw him no more.
Our supplies being now completed, the king came on board before our
departure; and it will appear something surprising that the honest and
wealthy monarch, forgetting the rank and pomp of royalty, should at his
parting visit covet everything he saw with us: he even expressed a wish
to see the contents of our trunks; he begged a handkerchief from me, a
penknife from another, a pair of shoes from a third, a hat from a
fourth, and when refused, talked of his kindness to us on shore; while,
on the other hand, he bowed low when presented with a breastpin, a few
needles, or paper-cased looking-glass, not worth a groat. Even the
cabin-boy and cook were not forgotten by this “King of the Isles,” for
he asked a piece of black-ball from the former, and an old saucepan from
the latter. His avarice and meanness in these respects had no bounds,
and we were all greatly relieved when he bade us farewell and departed.
Having taken leave of his majesty, I shall now make a few remarks on the
habits, dress, and language of the natives.
{44} The Sandwich Islanders are bold swimmers, and expert navigators.
They are like ducks in the water. As soon as we had cast anchor in
Karakakooa Bay the natives, men and women, indiscriminately flocked
about the ship in great numbers: some swimming, others in canoes, but
all naked, although the _Tonquin_ lay a mile from the shore. Few,
however, being admitted on board at once (probably a necessary
precaution), the others waited very contentedly floating on the surface
of the water alongside, amusing themselves now and then by plunging and
playing round the ship. After passing several hours in this way, they
would then make a simultaneous start for the land, diving and plunging,
sporting and playing, like so many seals or fish in a storm all the way.
During their gambols about the ship, we often amused ourselves by
dropping a button, nail, or pin into the water; but such was their
keenness of sight and their agility, that the trifle had scarcely
penetrated the surface of the water before it was in their possession;
nothing could escape them. On one occasion a ship’s block happening to
fall overboard, one of the natives was asked to dive for it in
thirty-six feet of water; but after remaining three minutes and fifty
seconds under water he came up unsuccessful; another tried it and
succeeded, after being under water four minutes and twelve seconds: the
blood, however, burst from his nose and ears immediately after.
Their voyaging canoes are made to ride on the {45} roughest water with
safety by means of a balance or outrigger shaped like a boat’s keel, and
attached to the canoe at the distance of five feet by two slender beams.
The canoe goes fully as well with as without the balance, skipping on
the surface of the water as if no such appendage accompanied it. When
the swell or surge strikes the canoe on the balance side, the weight of
the outrigger prevents its upsetting, and when on the opposite side the
buoyancy of the outrigger, now sunk in the water, has the same effect.
The climate here is so very mild and warm that the natives seldom wear
any clothing, and when they do, it is of their own manufacture, and
extremely simple. The inner bark of different trees (the touta in
particular) is prepared by beating it into a pulp or soft thin web, not
unlike grey paper, called tappa. The common people wear it in this raw
state, but the better sort paint it with various colours, resembling
printed cotton. Tappa is as strong as cartridge paper, but not so thick,
and can answer for clothing only in dry climates. The common dress of
the men consists of a piece of this tappa, about ten inches broad and
nine feet long, like a belt, called maro. The maro is thrown carelessly
round the loins, then passed between the thighs, and tied on the left
side. The females wear the pow or pau, a piece of tappa similar to the
maro, only a little broader, and worn in the same manner; but the queens
had on, in addition to the pow, a loose mantle or shawl thrown round
{46} the body, called kihei, which consisted of twenty-one folds of
tappa; yet when compressed it did not equal in thickness an English
blanket. The kihei is generally worn by persons of distinction, but
seldom of more than two or three folds, excepting among the higher
ranks. Like a Chinese mandarin, a lady here makes known her rank by her
dress, and by the number of folds in her kihei.
A custom prevalent here, and which is, I believe, peculiar to these
islanders, is, that the women always eat apart from the men, and are
forbidden the use of pork. The favourite dish among all classes is raw
fish, mashed or pounded in a mortar. Considering their rude and savage
life, these people are very cleanly. The houses of all classes are lined
and decorated with painted tappa, and the floors overspread with
variegated mats. The women are handsome in person, engaging in their
manners, well featured, and have countenances full of joy and
tranquility; but chastity is not their virtue.
The king’s will is the paramount law of the land, but he is represented
as a mild and generous sovereign, invariably friendly to the whites whom
choice or accident has thrown on these islands. To those who behave well
the king allots land, and gives them slaves to work it. He protects both
them and their property, and is loth ever to punish an evildoer. Near
Ourourah we saw eight or ten white men comfortably settled; and upwards
of thirty {47} others naked and wild among the natives, wretched
unprincipled vagabonds, of almost every nation in Europe, without
clothing and without either house or home.
I have already noticed the principal esculent vegetables growing here;
there are also some beautiful kinds of wood; that called koeye, of which
the war spears or pahooas are made, and sandalwood, are the kinds most
highly esteemed among the natives for their hardness and polish. The
cocoa-nut, in clumps here and there, forms delightful groves, and these
are often frequented by the industrious females for the purpose of
manufacturing and painting their tappa—preferring the cool shade and
open air to the heat of a dwelling-house.
At the place where Captain Cook was killed, which we visited soon after
our arrival, were still a few old and shattered cocoa-nut trees, pierced
with the shot from his ships; and a flat coral rock; at the water’s
edge, is still pointed out to strangers as the fatal spot where he fell.
The chief weapon used in their warfare is the pahooa or spear, 12 feet
long, polished, barbed, and painted. It is poised and thrown with the
right hand with incredible force and precision. His majesty ordered
fifty men to parade one day, and invited us to see them exercising, and
we were certainly much gratified and astonished at their skill in
throwing and parrying the weapons.
{48} After going through several manœuvres, the king picked four of the
best marksmen out, and ordered one of them to stand at a certain point;
the three others at a distance of sixty yards from him, all armed with
pahooas, and facing one another. The three last mentioned were to dart
their spears at the single man, and he to parry them off or catch them
in passing. Each of the three had twelve pahooas; the single man but
one. Immediately after taking his position the single man put himself
upon his guard, by skipping and leaping from right to left with the
quickness of lightning: the others, equally on the alert, prepared to
throw. All eyes were now anxiously intent; presently one threw his
spear, at a short interval the next followed; as did the third—two at a
time next threw, and then all three let fly at once, and continued to
throw without intermission until the whole thirty-six spears were spent,
which was done in less than three minutes. The single man, who was
placed like a target to be shot at, defended himself nobly with the
spear he had in his hand, and sent those of his opponents whistling in
every direction, for he had either to parry them off like a skilful
boxer, or be run through on the spot; but such was the agility with
which he shifted from one position to another, and managed the spear
with his right hand, that he seemed rather to be playing and amusing
himself than seriously engaged, for twice or thrice he dexterously
seized his opponent’s spear at {49} the moment it came in contact with
his own, allowing at the same time the latter to fly off, and this
shifting or exchanging spears is thought a masterpiece, being the most
difficult and dangerous manœuvre in the whole affair, and it is only an
adept that can attempt it with safety. When all was over, the man had
received a slight wound on the left arm; but it happens not unfrequently
that he who is thus placed is killed on the spot; for if he allows the
spear to be knocked out of his hand without catching another, he is
almost sure to fall, as the throwers are not allowed to stop while a
pahooa remains with them, and every weapon is hurled with a deadly
intention.
The king is said to be a dexterous pahooa man himself, and it was his
prowess and knowledge in war, and not his rank, that made him sovereign
of these islands. After the people had dispersed, the man who had acted
so conspicuous a part in the exhibition just described, came to us and
offered to risk his life for a handkerchief, at the distance of twenty
yards; telling us to select the best marksman among us, with a
fowlingpiece either with shot or ball, and he would stand before him,
and either win the handkerchief or lose his life! We were not disposed,
however, to accept the challenge, but gave the fellow a handkerchief and
sent him about his business.
All the islands of this group, excepting one, have {50} acknowledged
Tammeatameah as their king, and the jarring interests and feuds of the
different islands have at last sunk into a system of union which, if we
may judge from appearance, renders this country, under its present
government, an earthly paradise, and the inhabitants thereof as free
from care, and perhaps as happy, as any in the globe;—but mark!
civilized man has now begun to trade on its innocent and peaceful soil:
there is an end, therefore, to all primeval simplicity and happiness.
These people speak with a quickness which almost baffles imitation; and
in very many instances, the same word is repeated twice. The language is
bold and masculine; and, although the accent be clear, is very difficult
to be attained by the whites.
We shall now take our leave of the friendly and hospitable natives of
these islands. On his majesty leaving the ship, a boat was sent to shore
for a few remaining articles; meantime, preparations were made for
weighing anchor. The wind from the sea beginning to blow retarded the
boat’s return; and the delay so nettled our worthy commander, that he
gave orders to set sail, and the ship stood out to sea, leaving the boat
to follow as she could. The wind soon increasing to a gale, the boat had
to struggle with a tempestuous sea for six hours, during which time we
expected every minute to witness her destruction. The Falkland Island
affair was yet fresh in our {51} minds, and this seemed to equal, if not
surpass it in cruelty. At length, however, the ship bore down, and with
much difficulty rescued the boat’s crew from a watery grave.
{52} CHAPTER IV[12]
Departure from the Sandwich Islands—Bad weather—Live stock destroyed—
Columbia River—A boat and crew lost—Captain’s conduct towards Mr.
Fox—Mouth of the river—Bar and breakers—Cape Disappointment—Point
Adams—Narrow escape of the long boat—Sounding the bar—A boat and
crew left to perish—The ship in the breakers—Critical situation—
Melancholy narrative of Steven Weeks—Search made for the lost boat,
and narrow escape—Long boat swamped—Fidelity of the natives—
Preparations for leaving the ship—Captain Thorn—The voyage
concluded.
On the 1st of March, 1811, we took our departure from the Sandwich
Islands; steering direct for Columbia River. The first step taken, after
leaving the land, was to liberate those who had been put in irons. Poor
fellows! they considered themselves particularly unfortunate, and doubly
punished, in not having been partakers of the pleasures which the others
had enjoyed on shore. All our thoughts now tended to one point; and the
hope of soon terminating a long and irksome voyage made us forget all
former misunderstandings, and a few days passed in harmony and
good-fellowship, until the 12th, when the weather becoming squally and
cold, with snow {53} and sleet, the partners wished to serve out some
articles of clothing to the passengers, who now began to feel very
sensibly the change of climate; but the captain considered the broaching
of a bale or box as an encroachment on his authority, and a violation of
ship rules, and therefore steadily opposed it. This gave rise to bad
blood on both sides. The partners swore they would have such articles as
they wanted; the captain swore they should touch nothing. The dispute
went to such a height that pistols were resorted to, and all, from stem
to stern, seemed for a moment involved in the flame of civil war; but on
this, as on a former occasion, Mr. David Stuart and some others
interfering brought about a reconciliation. The partners desisted; the
captain kept his bales and boxes untouched; and the men froze in the icy
rigging of the ship until many of them were obliged to take to their
hammocks.
On the 14th, in lat. 37° N. and long. 137° W., a violent gale came on,
which increased almost to a hurricane, and lasted four days without
intermission, during which we were much puzzled in manœuvring the ship.
She had sprung a leak, but not seriously. Sometimes we had to let her
scud before the wind; sometimes she lay-to; sometimes under one sail,
sometimes under another, labouring greatly; and much anxiety was felt by
all on board. During this storm, almost everything on deck was carried
off or dashed to pieces; all our live stock were either killed or washed
overboard; and so bad was the weather, {54} first with rain, and then
with sleet, hail, frost, and snow which froze on the rigging as it fell,
that there was no bending either ropes or sails, and the poor sailors
were harassed to death. But bad and harassing as this state of things
was, it proved to be only the beginning of our troubles, and a prelude
to far greater trials. During this gale, we sustained considerable
damage in the sails and rigging, besides the loss of our live stock, and
other things on board.
On the 22nd of March, we came in sight of land, which, on a nearer
approach, proved to be Cape Disappointment, a promontory forming the
north side of the Great Oregon or Columbia River. The sight filled every
heart with gladness. But the cloudy and stormy state of the weather
prevented us seeing clearly the mouth of the river; being then about ten
miles from land. The aspect of the coast was wild and dangerous, and for
some time the ship lay-to, until the captain could satisfy himself that
it was the entrance of the river; which he had no sooner done, than Mr.
Fox, the first mate, was ordered to go and examine the channel on the
bar. At half-past one o’clock in the afternoon, Mr. Fox left the ship,
having with him one sailor, a very old Frenchman, and three Canadian
lads, unacquainted with sea service—two of them being carters from La
Chine, and the other a Montreal barber. Mr. Fox objected to such hands;
but the captain refused to change them, adding that he had none else to
spare. Mr. Fox then represented the impossibility of performing the
business {55} in such weather, and on such a rough sea, even with the
best seamen, adding, that the waves were too high for any boat to live
in. The captain, turning sharply round, said—“Mr. Fox, if you are afraid
of water, you should have remained at Boston.” On this Mr. Fox
immediately ordered the boat to be lowered, and the men to embark. If
the crew was bad, the boat was still worse—being scarcely seaworthy, and
very small. While this was going on, the partners, who were all partial
to Mr. Fox, began to sympathize with him, and to intercede with the
captain to defer examining the bar till a favourable change took place
in the weather. But he was deaf to entreaties, stamped, and swore that a
combination was formed to frustrate all his designs. The partners’
interference, therefore, only riveted him the more in his determination,
and Mr. Fox was peremptorily ordered to proceed. He, seeing that the
captain was immoveable, turned to the partners with tears in his eyes
and said—“My uncle was drowned here not many years ago, and now I am
going to lay my bones with his.” He then shook hands with all around
him, and bade them adieu. Stepping into the boat—“Farewell, my friends!”
said he; “we will perhaps meet again in the next world.” And the words
were prophetic.
The moment the boat pushed off, all hands crowded in silence to take a
last farewell of her. The weather was boisterous, and the sea rough, so
that we often lost sight of the boat before she got 100 yards from {56}
the ship; nor had she gone that far before she became utterly
unmanageable, sometimes broaching broadside to the foaming surges, and
at other times almost whirling round like a top, then tossing on the
crest of a huge wave would sink again for a time and disappear
altogether. At last she hoisted the flag; the meaning could not be
mistaken; we knew it was a signal of distress. At this instant all the
people crowded round the captain, and implored him to try and save the
boat; but in an angry tone he ordered about ship, and we saw the
ill-fated boat no more.
Mr. Fox was not only an able officer, but an experienced seaman, and a
great favourite among all classes on board; and this circumstance, I
fear, proved his ruin, for his uniform kindness and affability to the
passengers had from the commencement of the voyage drawn down upon his
head the ill-will of his captain; and his being sent off on the present
perilous and forlorn undertaking, with such awkward and inexperienced
hands, whose language he did not understand, is a proof of that
ill-will.
The mouth of Columbia River is remarkable for its sand-bars and high
surf at all seasons, but more particularly in the spring and fall,
during the equinoctial gales: these sand-bars frequently shift, the
channel of course shifting along with them, which renders the passage at
all times extremely dangerous. The bar, or rather the chain of sand
banks, over which the huge waves and foaming breakers {57} roll so
awfully, is a league broad, and extends in a white foaming sheet for
many miles, both south and north of the mouth of the river, forming as
it were an impracticable barrier to the entrance, and threatening with
instant destruction everything that comes near it.
The river at its mouth is 4½ miles broad, confined by Cape
Disappointment on the north, and Point Adams on the south; the former is
a rocky cliff or promontory, rising about 500 feet above the level of
the water, and covered on the top with a few scattered trees of stinted
growth; the latter a low sandy point, jutting out about 300 yards into
the river, directly opposite to Cape Disappointment: the deepest water
is near the Cape, but the channel is both narrow and intricate. The
country is low, and the impervious forests give to the surrounding coast
a wild and gloomy aspect.
After the captain ordered about ship, as already stated, some angry
words passed between himself and Mr. Mumford, the second officer, which
ended in the latter being ordered below. After passing an anxious night,
the return of day only increased the anxiety, and every mind was filled
with gloomy apprehensions. In the course of this day, Mr. Mumford
resumed his duties, and the ship kept beating off and on till noon, when
she cast anchor in fourteen fathoms, about a mile from the breakers; and
the weather becoming calm, Mr. M‘Kay, Mr. David Stuart, myself, and
several others, embarking in the {58} long boat, which was well manned
and armed, stood in for the shore, in hopes of being able to effect a
landing. On approaching the bar, the terrific chain of breakers, which
kept rolling one after another in awful succession, completely
overpowered us with dread; and the fearful suction or current became so
irresistibly great, that, before we were aware of it, the boat was drawn
into them, and became unmanageable: at this instant, Mr. Mumford, who
was at the helm, called out, “Let us turn back, and pull for your lives;
pull hard, or you are all dead men”. In turning round, the boat broached
broadside to the surf, and was for some time in imminent danger of being
engulfed or dashed to pieces; and, although every effort was made, we
were for twelve minutes struggling in this perilous situation, between
hope and despair, before we got clear, or the boat obeyed the oars, and
yet we were still two miles from the shore; and, had it not been for the
prompt and determined step taken by Mr. Mumford, the boat and every soul
on board of it must have inevitably perished. Notwithstanding our narrow
escape, we made a second and third attempt, but without success, and
then returned to the ship. The same afternoon, Mr. Mumford was sent more
to the south to seek for a channel, but to no purpose. The charts were
again examined, and every preparation made for next morning.
On the 25th, early in the morning, Mr. Mumford was again ordered in
another direction to go and discover {59} if possible the proper
channel, and ascertain the depth of water. After several trials, in one
or two of which the boat got again entangled in the breakers, and had a
very narrow escape, she at length came into 2½ fathoms of water, and
then returned; but the captain seemed to hint that Mr. Mumford had not
done so much as he might have done, or in other words, he was
dissatisfied; indeed, his mind was not in a state to be satisfied with
anything, not even with himself; but his officers, whatever they did,
were sure to displease.
The captain now called on Mr. Aikens, the third mate, and ordered him to
go and sound in a more northerly direction, and if he found 3½ fathoms
water to hoist a flag as a signal. At three o’clock in the afternoon,
Mr. Aikens, together with the sailmaker, armourer, and two Sandwich
Islanders, embarked in the pinnace, and proceeded to the bar. As soon as
the pinnace hoisted the flag agreed upon, the ship weighed anchor and
stood in for the channel; at the same time the boat, pulling back from
the bar, met the ship about half a mile from the breakers, in eight
fathoms, going in with a gentle seabreeze, at the rate of three knots an
hour.
As the ship and boat drew near to each other, the latter steered a
little aside to be out of the ship’s way, then lay upon her oars in
smooth water, waiting to be taken on board, while the ship passed on
within twenty yards of them in silence; nor did the people in the boat
speak a single word. As soon as the {60} ship had passed, and no motion
made to take the boat on board, every one appeared thunderstruck, and
Mr. M‘Kay was the first that spoke,—“Who,” said he, “is going to throw a
rope to the boat?” No one answered; but by this time she had fallen
astern, and began to pull after the ship. Every one now called out, “The
boat, the boat!” The partners, in astonishment, entreated the captain to
take the boat on board, but he coolly replied, “I can give them no
assistance.” Mr. Mumford said it would not be the work of a minute.
“Back a sail, throw a rope overboard,” cried the partners; the answer
was, “No, I will not endanger the ship.” We now felt convinced that the
boat and crew were devoted to destruction—no advice was given them, no
assistance offered, no reasons assigned for risking so cruel a sacrifice
of human life—for the place where the boat met us was entirely free from
the influence of the breakers, and a long way from the bar. It is
impossible, therefore, to account for the cool indifference manifested
towards the fated boat and her crew, unless we suppose that the mind of
the captain was so absorbed in apprehension, and perplexed with anxiety
at the danger which stared him in the face, and which he was about to
encounter in a few minutes, that he could not be brought to give a
thought to anything else but the safety of the ship.
During this time the ship was drawing nearer and nearer to the breakers,
which called our attention {61} from the boat to look out for our own
safety; but she was seen for some time struggling hard to follow the
ship as we entered the breakers, the sight of which was appalling. On
the ship making the first plunge, every countenance looked dismay; and
the sun, at the time just sinking below the horizon, seemed to say,
“Prepare for your last.” Mr. Mumford was now ordered to the masthead, to
point out the channel. The water decreasing from 8 to 2½ fathoms, she
struck tremendously on the second reef or shoal; and the surges breaking
over her stern overwhelmed everything on deck. Every one who could,
sprang aloft, and clung for life to the rigging. The waves at times
broke ten feet high over her, and at other times she was in danger of
foundering: she struck again and again, and, regardless of her helm, was
tossed and whirled in every direction, and became completely
unmanageable. Night now began to spread an impenetrable gloom over the
turbulent deep. Dark, indeed, was that dreadful night. We had got about
a mile into the breakers, and not far from the rocks at the foot of the
cape, against which the foaming surges wreaked their fury unceasingly.
Our anxiety was still further increased by the wind dying away, and the
tide still ebbing. At this instant, some one called out, “We are all
lost, the ship is among the rocks.” A desperate effort was then made to
let go the anchors—two were thrown overboard; the sails kept flapping
for some time: nor was the danger diminished by learning the fact {62}
that the surf dragged ship, anchors, and all, along with it. But there
is a limit to all things: hour after hour had passed, and terrific was
the sight; yet our faithful bark still defied the elements, until the
tide providentially beginning to flow—just at a time when it appeared as
if no earthly power could save us from a watery grave—brought about our
deliverance by carrying the ship along with it into Baker’s Bay, snug
within the Cape, where we lay in safety.
Here are two points for consideration; first, the time of sounding: and,
secondly, the time chosen for entering the breakers. In respect to both,
there was an unwarrantable precipitation—a manifest want of sound
judgment. We made the land in the middle of a storm, the channel and
coast both unknown to us, and without either pilot or guide: under such
circumstances, it was evident to all that no boat could live on the
water at the time, far less reach the shore; and our entering the
breakers at so late an hour, the sun at the time not being fifty minutes
above the horizon, the channel also being unexplored, was certainly a
premature and forlorn undertaking: but there existed such disunion—such
a spirit of contradiction on board—that the only wonder is how we ever
got so far. But I must now inform the reader what became of the boat.
In the morning of the 26th, Captain Thorn, Mr. M‘Kay, myself, and a few
men, left the ship, to take a view of the coast from the top of Cape
Disappointment, to try if we could learn any tidings of the {63} boats.
We had not proceeded fifty yards, when we saw Steven Weeks, the
armourer, standing under the shelter of a rock, shivering and half-dead
with cold. Joy for a moment filled our hearts, and running up to the
poor fellow, we inquired for his comrades, but could get no satisfactory
reply; we then brought him to the ship, and, after giving him some food,
resumed our inquiries; but he appeared so overpowered with grief and
vexation, that we could scarcely get a word from him; in short, he
seemed to reproach us bitterly. “You did it purposely,” said he, in
great agitation; but after some time, and when we had first told him
what we had suffered, he seemed to come round, as if his feelings were
soothed by the recital of our dangers; and then he related his
melancholy tale, in the following words:—
“After the ship passed us we pulled hard to follow her, thinking every
moment you would take us on board; but when we saw her enter the
breakers we considered ourselves as lost. We tried to pull back again,
but in vain; for we were drawn into the breakers in spite of all we
could do. We saw the ship make two or three heavy plunges; but just at
this time we ourselves were struck with the boiling surf, and the boat
went reeling in every direction; in an instant a heavy sea swamped her—
poor Mr. Aikens and John Coles were never seen after. As soon as I got
above the surface of the water, I kept tossing about at the mercy of the
waves. While in this state I saw the two Sandwich Islanders struggling
{64} through the surf to get hold of the boat, and being expert swimmers
they succeeded. After long struggles they got her turned upon her keel,
bailed out some of the water, and recovered one of the oars. I made
several attempts to get near them, but the weight of my clothes and the
rough sea had almost exhausted me. I could scarcely keep myself above
water, and the Owhyhees were so much occupied about the boat, that they
seemed to take no notice of anything else. In vain I tried to make
signs, and to call out; every effort only sank me more and more. The
tide had drawn the boat by this time out to sea, and almost free of the
breakers, when the two islanders saw me, now supporting myself by a
floating oar, and made for me. The poor fellows tried to haul me into
the boat, but their strength failed them. At last, taking hold of my
clothes in their teeth, they fortunately succeeded. We then stood out to
sea as night set in, and a darker one I never saw. The Owhyhees,
overcome with wet and cold, began to lose hope, and their fortitude
forsook them, so that they lay down despairingly in the boat, nor could
I arouse them from their drowsy stupor. When I saw that I had nothing to
expect from them, I set to sculling the boat myself, and yet it was with
much ado I could stand on my legs. During the night one of the Indians
died in despair, and the other seemed to court death, for he lost all
heart, and would not utter a single word. When the tide began to flow I
was roused by the sense {65} of my danger, for the sound of the breakers
grew louder and louder, and I knew if I got entangled in them in my
exhausted state all was lost; I, therefore, set to with might and main,
as a last effort, to keep the boat out to sea, and at daylight I was
within a quarter of a mile of the breakers, and about double that
distance short of the Cape. I paused for a moment, ‘What is to be done?’
I said to myself; ‘death itself is preferable to this protracted
struggle.’ So, turning the head of my boat for shore, I determined to
reach the land or die in the attempt. Providence favoured my resolution,
the breakers seemed to aid in hurrying me out of the watery element; and
the sun had scarcely risen when the boat was thrown up high and dry on
the beach. I had much ado to extricate myself from her, and to drag my
benumbed limbs along. On seeing myself once more on dry land, I sat down
and felt a momentary relief; but this was followed by gloomy
reflections. I then got into the boat again, and seeing the poor
islander still alive, but insensible, I hauled him out of the boat, and
with much ado carried him to the border of the wood, when covering him
with leaves I left him to die. While gathering the leaves I happened to
come upon a beaten path, which brought me here.” Such was Weeks’s
melancholy story: himself and the Indian being the only survivors of the
last boat, it follows that eight men in all lost their lives in entering
this fatal river.
{66} In the evening the Sandwich Islander who died in the boat was
interred on the beach where the boat came ashore; the other poor fellow
was carried to the ship, and afterwards recovered.
On the 27th I was appointed to head a party to go in search of the boat
that was lost on the 22nd; but after examining the coast for upwards of
forty miles southwards, not a trace of our missing friends was
discovered, nor did we ever learn any tidings of them.
We had on this occasion a specimen of Chinooke navigation. While
crossing the river in an Indian canoe, on our way back to the ship, we
were suddenly overtaken by a storm, and our craft was upset in the
middle of the passage. The expertness of the natives in their favourite
element was here put to the test. At this time we were upwards of two
miles from the shore, while eight persons unable to swim were floating
in every direction; coats, hats, and everything else adrift, and all
depending on the fidelity of the four Indians who undertook to carry us
over; yet, notwithstanding the roughness of the water, and the wind
blowing a gale at the time, these poor fellows kept swimming about like
so many fishes, righted the canoe, and got us all into her again, while
they themselves staid in the water, with one hand on the canoe and the
other paddling. In this manner they supported themselves, tossing to and
fro, till we bailed the water out of our frail craft, and got under
weigh again. Here it was that {67} the Indians showed the skill and
dexterity peculiar to them. The instant the canoe rose on the top of a
wave, those on the windward side darted down their long paddles to the
armpits in the water to prevent her from upsetting; while those on the
leeside at the same moment pulled theirs up, but kept ready as soon as
the wave had passed under her to thrust them down again in a similar
manner, and thus by their alternate movements they kept the canoe
steady, so that we got safe to shore without another upset, and with the
loss of only a few articles of clothing; but we suffered severely from
wet and cold.
During this time the Indians from the village which we had left, seeing
our critical situation, had manned and sent off two canoes to our
assistance. One of the boats from the ship was also despatched for the
same purpose; but all would have proved too late had we not been
fortunate enough of ourselves to weather the storm.
The Indians all the time never lost their presence of mind. Indeed, it
was supposed, from the skilful manner in which they acted afterwards,
that the sordid rascals had upset us wilfully, in order to claim the
merit of having saved us, and therewith a double recompense for their
trip. The boat which had put off to our assistance was upset on her
return to the ship; and had it not been for the two Indian canoes that
followed us, its crew would have all perished.
{68} On the 4th of April the long boat was swamped off Chinooke Point,
when ten persons were saved by Comecomly and his people. On this
occasion, however, many articles of value were lost, so that every hour
admonished us that we stepped on insecure and slippery ground. Every
succeeding day was marked by some new and alarming disaster; but a few
remarks will now suffice to conclude the account of our voyage, in which
we sailed, according to the ship’s log, 21,852 miles.
Captain Thorn was an able and expert seaman; but, unfortunately, his
treatment of the people under his command was strongly tinctured with
cruelty and despotism. He delighted in ruling with a rod of iron; his
officers were treated with harshness, his sailors with cruelty, and
every one else was regarded by him with contempt. With a jealous and
peevish temper, he was easily excited; and the moment he heard the
Scotch Highlanders speak to each other in the Scottish dialect, or the
Canadians in the French language, he was on his high horse, making every
one on board as unhappy as himself; and this brings us down to the
period of our departure from the ship, a period to which we all
anxiously looked forward, and the satisfaction both felt and expressed
was universal, when the general order was read that all the passengers
should prepare to land on the following day.
{69} CHAPTER V[13]
Preparations for landing—Site of the new emporium of the west—Astor’s
representative—Hard work—Huge trees—Natives—Comecomly—Mode of
felling trees—Danger—Trying scenes—Three men killed—Three wounded—
Party reduced by sickness—Disaffection—Conduct of the deputy—
Desertion—Mr. Astor’s policy—Climate—Indian rumours—Comecomly’s
intrigues and policy—Trip to the cascades—Mr. M‘Kay and north-west
notions—Anecdote—Exploring party to the north—Several persons
killed—Hostile threats of the Indians—Potatoes and other seeds
planted—New building—Astoria—Departure of the ship—Dangerous
situation of the whites—Great assemblage of Indians—People under
arms—Blunderbuss accident—Alarming moment—Two strangers arrive—Mr.
Thompson at Astoria—M‘Dougall’s policy—The two great functionaries.
For some days, much time was spent in examining both sides of the inlet,
with a view of choosing a suitable place to build on. At last it was
settled that the new establishment should be erected on the south side,
on a small rising ground situate between Point George on the west and
Tonquin Point on the east, distant twelve miles from the mouth of the
inlet or bar.
{70} On the 12th of April, therefore, the whole party, consisting of
thirty-three persons, all British subjects excepting three (eleven
Sandwich Islanders being included in that number), left the ship and
encamped on shore.
However pleasing the change, to be relieved from a long and tedious
voyage, and from the tyranny of a sullen despotic captain, the day was
not one of pleasure, but of labour. The misfortunes we had met with in
crossing the fatal bar had deadened all sensibility, and cast a
melancholy gloom over our most sanguine expectations. In our present
position, everything harmonized with our feelings, to darken our future
prospects. Silent and with heavy hearts we began the toil of the day, in
clearing away brush and rotten wood for a spot to encamp on.
The person who now assumed the command was the deputy-agent, Duncan
M‘Dougall, Esq., an old north-western, who, in the absence of Mr. Hunt,
held the first place in Mr. Astor’s confidence. He was a man of but
ordinary capacity, with an irritable, peevish temper; the most unfit man
in the world to head an expedition or command men.
From the site of the establishment, the eye could wander over a varied
and interesting scene. The extensive Sound, with its rocky shores, lay
in front; the breakers on the bar, rolling in wild confusion, closed the
view on the west; on the east, the country as far as the Sound had a
wild and varied aspect; while towards the south, the impervious and
magnificent {71} forest darkened the landscape, as far as the eye could
reach. The place thus selected for the emporium of the west, might
challenge the whole continent to produce a spot of equal extent
presenting more difficulties to the settler: studded with gigantic trees
of almost incredible size, many of them measuring fifty feet in girth,
and so close together, and intermingled with huge rocks, as to make it a
work of no ordinary labour to level and clear the ground. With this task
before us, every man, from the highest to the lowest, was armed with an
axe in one hand and a gun in the other; the former for attacking the
woods, the latter for defence against the savage hordes which were
constantly prowling about. In the garb of labourers, and in the sweat of
our brow, we now commenced earning our bread. In this manner we all kept
toiling and tearing away, from sunrise till sunset—from Monday till
Saturday; and during the nights we kept watch without intermission.
On our first arrival, the natives of the place appeared very friendly
towards us, owing no doubt to some trifling presents which they now and
then received from us; but still, circumstances occurred occasionally
which indicated treachery, and kept us always on our guard, against the
more distant tribes in particular, for their attitude was invariably shy
and hostile. Our ill opinion of them proved but too true in the sequel;
but we had all along received every assurance of fidelity and protection
from Comecomly, {72} the principal chief of the place, and in him we
reposed much confidence.
The frame of a coasting vessel, to be named the _Dolly_, was brought out
on board the _Tonquin_, and as soon as we had got a spot cleared, the
carpenters were set to work, to fit her up for immediate service; but
the smallness of her size, of only thirty tons, rendered her useless for
any purpose but that of navigating the river.
It would have made a cynic smile to see this pioneer corps, composed of
traders, shopkeepers, voyageurs, and Owhyhees, all ignorant alike in
this new walk of life, and the most ignorant of all, the leader. Many of
the party had never handled an axe before, and but few of them knew how
to use a gun, but necessity, the mother of invention, soon taught us
both. After placing our guns in some secure place at hand, and viewing
the height and the breadth of the tree to be cut down, the party, with
some labour, would erect a scaffold round it; this done, four men—for
that was the number appointed to each of those huge trees—would then
mount the scaffold, and commence cutting, at the height of eight or ten
feet from the ground, the handles of our axes varying, according to
circumstances, from two and a half to five feet in length. At every
other stroke, a look was cast round, to see that all was safe; but the
least rustling among the bushes caused a general stop; more or less time
was thus lost in anxious suspense. After {73} listening and looking
round, the party resumed their labour, cutting and looking about
alternately. In this manner the day would be spent, and often to little
purpose: as night often set in before the tree begun with in the morning
was half cut down. Indeed, it sometimes required two days, or more, to
fell one tree; but when nearly cut through, it would be viewed fifty
different times, and from as many different positions, to ascertain
where it was likely to fall, and to warn parties of the danger.
There is an art in felling a tree, as well as in planting one; but
unfortunately none of us had learned that art, and hours together would
be spent in conjectures and discussions: one calling out that it would
fall here; another, there; in short, there were as many opinions as
there were individuals about it; and, at last, when all hands were
assembled to witness the fall, how often were we disappointed! the tree
would still stand erect, bidding defiance to our efforts, while every
now and then some of the most impatient or fool-hardy would venture to
jump on the scaffold and give a blow or two more. Much time was often
spent in this desultory manner, before the mighty tree gave way; but it
seldom came to the ground. So thick was the forest, and so close the
trees together, that in its fall it would often rest its ponderous top
on some other friendly tree; sometimes a number of them would hang
together, keeping us in awful suspense, and giving us double labour to
extricate the one from the other, and when {74} we had so far succeeded,
the removal of the monster stump was the work of days. The tearing up of
the roots was equally arduous, although less dangerous: and when this
last operation was got through, both tree and stump had to be blown to
pieces by gunpowder before either could be removed from the spot.
Nearly two months of this laborious and incessant toil had passed, and
we had scarcely yet an acre of ground cleared. In the mean time three of
our men were killed by the natives, two more wounded by the falling of
trees, and one had his hand blown off by gunpowder.
But the labour, however trying, we were prepared to undergo. It was
against neglect and ill-treatment that our feelings revolted. The people
suffered greatly from the humidity of the climate. The Sandwich
Islanders, used to a dry, pure atmosphere, sank under its influence;
damp fogs and sleet were frequent, and every other day was a day of
rain. Such is the climate of Columbia at this season of the year, and
all this time we were without tents or shelter; add to this the bad
quality of our food, consisting solely of boiled fish and wild roots,
without even salt, and we had to depend at all times on the success or
good-will of the natives for our daily supply, which was far from being
regular; so that one-half of the party, on an average, were constantly
on the sick list; and on more than one occasion I have seen the whole
party so reduced that scarcely {75} one could help the other, and all
this chiefly owing to the conduct of Mr. Astor; first, in not sending
out a medical man with the party; and, secondly, in his choice of the
great pasha, M‘Dougall, whom he placed at the head of his affairs. The
sick and the sound both fared alike; the necessities of both were
overlooked, while he, himself, was served in state; for a good many
articles of provision had been put on shore before the ship sailed.
Our hard labour by day, with the watching during night, had not only
reduced our party by sickness to a mere nothing, but raised a spirit of
discontent, and plots and plans were set on foot to abandon all, and
cross the continent by land. This extravagant resolution was, however,
overruled by the more moderate of the malcontents, yet it resulted in a
party waiting on M‘Dougall with the view of bettering the existing state
of things, and opening his eyes to his own situation; but this produced
no good effect; it rather augmented the evil: and a second deputation
proved equally unsuccessful. At last four men deserted, and had
proceeded eighty miles up the river when they were laid hold of by the
Indians and kept in a tent; nor would the stern and crafty chief of the
tribe deliver them up until he had received a ransom for them.
Yet all this could not open the eyes of M‘Dougall, nor was it till he
had rashly ventured to provoke all classes, that he began to see clearly
that he was standing on the verge of a precipice. Everything at {76}
this moment seemed at a stand; the folly and imprudence of the man in
power had nearly extinguished all hopes of success. Another party of six
men, headed by one of the Americans, deserted, but were brought back the
third day by our friendly chief, Comecomly. We had some time ago found
out that the sordid hope of gain alone attached this old and crafty
chief to the whites.
The desertion of these parties, and the number confined by sickness,
began now to admonish the man at the head of affairs that he had
probably gone a step too far, and that it is much easier to destroy than
restore confidence. He suddenly changed for the better; tents were
distributed among the sick, and more attention was paid to their diet;
still there was no medical man to attend the sufferers. In this case we
surely look in vain for that sagacity and forethought which Mr. Astor
was thought to possess. His own interest was involved in the result, and
nothing could more clearly prove his reckless indifference for the lives
of his people than his not providing a medical man of some kind or
other, either for his ship or his infant colony.
But feuds and petty grievances among ourselves, arising chiefly from our
minds being soured by hardships, were not the only obstacles we had to
contend with; our weakness and forlorn situation began to open our eyes
to a sense of common danger, and fear began to exercise its influence,
so that unanimity alone could enable us to oppose a {77} common enemy.
Rumours from all quarters and suspicious appearances had raised an alarm
that the distant tribes were forming some dark design of cutting us off,
and reports countenancing this belief were daily brought us by Comecomly
and his people. We now established a regular patrol of six men, which
diminished our labouring body to a mere nothing, but under such
circumstances self-preservation obliged us to adopt every precaution.
Comecomly was sent for, and questioned on the occasion; but all we could
learn from him was, that the hostile tribes were a very bad people, and
ill-disposed towards the whites, and this we had no reason to
disbelieve, because Comecomly and his people were the only Indians who
had regularly traded with us; consequently, we were anxious to ascertain
the cause of this rupture between us and the distant tribes.
We had now begun to pick up a few words of the language, and were given
to understand that the crafty Chinookes, like the cat in the fable, had
fomented and nourished the misunderstanding between us and the distant
tribes; that they had artfully impressed the latter with the idea that
we were hostile towards them, and, by the same crafty policy, assuring
us of their enmity. By this stratagem, they kept them from coming near
us—thereby monopolizing all the trade themselves, by buying up all the
furs, and selling them again to us at double their first cost. As soon,
however, as we were convinced of the {78} intrigues of old Comecomly and
his people, we set about counteracting them. For this purpose, several
parties were sent up the country in different directions, to do away
with the unfavourable impressions, and to convince the natives, far and
near, of our friendly intentions to all.
On the 2nd of May, Mr. M‘Kay, accompanied by Mr. Robert Stuart, in a
small canoe, and four men, proceeded up the river to sound the
dispositions of the Indians, and to assure them of our good-will towards
them; and likewise to gain some information respecting the surrounding
country and state of the water. Having proceeded as far as the cascades,
a distance of 180 miles, made some presents to the principal men, and
convinced all the different tribes they saw of the friendly intentions
of the whites, the party returned again at the end of twelve days,
reporting most favourably of both natives and country.
Mr. M‘Kay had figured in the north-west as an Indian trader—was very
active, but whimsical and eccentric. An anecdote will picture the man:—
It is a habit among the grandees of the Indian trade to have May-poles
with their names inscribed thereon on conspicuous places, not to dance
round, but merely to denote that such a person passed there on such a
day, or to commemorate some event. For this purpose, the tallest tree on
the highest ground is generally selected, and all the branches are
stripped off excepting a small tuft at the top.
On Mr. M‘Kay’s return from his reconnoitring {79} expedition up the
river, he ordered one of his men to climb a lofty tree and dress it for
a May-pole. The man very willingly undertook the job, expecting, as
usual on these occasions, to get a dram; but he had no sooner reached
the top than his master, through love of mischief, lighting a fire at
the bottom, set the tree in a blaze. The poor fellow was instantly
enveloped in a cloud of smoke, and called out for mercy. Water was
dashed on the tree; but this only increased the danger by augmenting the
smoke, for the fire ran up the bark of the gummy pine like gunpowder,
and was soon beyond our reach, so that all hope of saving the man’s life
was at an end. Descending a little, however, he leaped, in despair, on
to a branch of another tree, which fortunately offered him a chance of
safety; and there he hung between earth and heaven, like a squirrel on a
twig, till another man, at no small risk, got up and rescued him from
his perilous situation.
Soon after M‘Kay’s return from the cascades, Mr. Robert Stuart, myself,
and five men, proceeded on an excursion to the north. It was here that
we became fully acquainted with the dangerous effects of the Chinooke
policy. The Indians, on our approach, flew to arms, and made signs for
us to keep at a distance. We halted, and tried to moderate their
ferocity by a display of presents; but they would not listen to us.
Their forces were collecting fast; every moment’s delay increased our
danger; and, fearful of being surrounded, we were deliberating on a
hasty {80} retreat, when, fortunately, a friendly Indian happened to
arrive, by means of whom we got into conversation with the others; and
the result was, that they explained and cleared up the matter to our
utmost satisfaction, and showed us several piles of furs laid up in
store waiting the Chinooke traders; but when they saw and compared the
prices we paid with that which the Chinookes were in the habit of giving
them, they put their hands on their mouths in astonishment, and strongly
urged us to return again, saying they would never more trade with the
one-eyed chief. We got back again to the establishment on the fifteenth
day; yet, notwithstanding the apparent friendly impression we had made
on these sordid and treacherous rogues, we had a very narrow escape in
crossing one of the rivers—for a party of them had got before us, taken
up a strong position on the opposite bank, and disputed the passage;
but, by a little manœuvring, we defeated their intentions. Soon
afterwards, however, one of our men was killed by them; and on another
occasion, a Mr. M‘Kenzie and his whole party, consisting of eight men,
were cut to pieces by them.
But we shall now return, for a moment, to notice what was going on at
the establishment. On the fourth day after our landing, we planted some
potatoes and sowed a few garden seeds, and on the 16th of May we laid
the foundations of our first building; but in order to procure suitable
timber for the purpose, we had to go back some distance—the wood on {81}
the site being so large and unmanageable; and for want of cattle to haul
it, we had to carry it on our shoulders, or drag it along the ground—a
task of no ordinary difficulty. For this purpose, eight men were
harnessed, and they conveyed in six days all the timber required for a
building or store of sixty feet long by twenty-six broad. On the 18th,
as soon as the foundation was completed, the establishment was named
Astoria, in honour of Astor, the projector of the enterprise.
The _Tonquin_, in the prosecution of her voyage along the coast, left
Astoria on the 1st of June, and crossed the bar on the 5th, when we saw
her for the last time. The captain had landed but a small part of the
cargo, intending on his return to put the rest on shore; but with his
ship all was lost, and Astoria, in consequence, was left almost
destitute of the necessary articles of trade. Mr. M‘Kay, as supercargo,
went on board with Mr. Lewis and two Canadians; but Mr. Mumford, the
second officer, was dismissed and sent on shore. On M‘Kay’s embarking,
he called me aside, and taking me by the hand recommended his son to my
care; then adding—“You see,” said he, “how unfortunate we are: the
captain, in one of his frantic fits, has now discharged the only officer
on board,” alluding to Mr. Mumford. “If you ever see us safe back, it
will be a miracle.” So saying, we parted, and he slept on board. The
departure of the ship unfolded to us the danger of our situation. It is
allowed by all experienced fur traders, {82} that in forming an
establishment among savages, the first consideration is safety; and
although we had been aware that the ship’s stay protected the embryo
settlement, and that her departure would proclaim to all the hostile
tribes around our defenceless state, yet was there any preparation made
for the event?—None. When the ship left us, not a gun was mounted; not a
palisade raised; nor the least precaution taken to secure either life or
property. Such was the character of the man whom Mr. Astor placed at the
head of his affairs.
The Indians from all quarters now began to assemble in such swarms, that
we had to relinquish all labour, and think only of defence. We naturally
put the worst construction on so formidable an array of savages in arms.
On the other hand, the arrival of the different tribes might have been
produced by the steps we had lately taken in regard to the Chinooke
policy, of assuring them of our friendly intentions; but the departure
of the ship had left us so powerless and weak, that we could not help
suspecting their intentions; and our suspicion was strengthened by the
absence of Comecomly and his people, who had avoided coming near us ever
since the arrival of the strangers. We had frequently sent for the
crafty chief, but he as frequently disappointed us, until he was given
to understand that a large present would be the reward of his good
offices in the present emergency, for we had reason to believe that now,
as on former occasions, he was very {83} busy in labouring to conceal
the truth, or, in other words, sowing the seeds of alienation, in order
that he and his people might as usual engross all the foreign trade
themselves.