We have now so often related the voyage up and down the Columbia, that

on the present occasion it will not be necessary to dwell on minute

details; suffice it to say, therefore, that we reached the cascades or

first barrier without any remarkable occurrence, till we got opposite to

Strawberry Island, where one of the canoes in ascending the rapid,

sheered out in the stream, whirled round and round, and upset. With

great difficulty and danger the men were saved, but a good deal of

property was irrecoverably lost, and, among other things, a box of mine,

containing books and mathematical instruments, quadrant, sextant, and a

valuable pair of pistols—all went to the bottom. It is a singular fact,

that we have never yet once been able to pass {248} this Charybdis

without paying tribute either to the natives or the whirlpools: but

misfortunes seldom come alone, and to add to the confusion, as we were

all running to and fro saving the men’s lives and the property, Mr.

Cox’s gun, being held in some awkward and careless position, went off,

and both balls passed through the calf of Mr. Pillet’s right leg, but

fortunately without breaking the bone.

Proceeding onwards, we passed the long narrows and the Wyampam banditti,

for the first time, without any trouble. It was, however, rumoured here

that we were to be attacked in passing the forks; that the Indians had

assembled there in hostile array. And here Mr. Clarke would fain have

avoided the encounter; he made several attempts, but in vain, to engage

a guide to lead him through the interior by a back path. At the

Umatallow, the small party bound for the Snake country left us, and

departed in the direction of the Blue Mountains.

On reaching the Walla Walla, about six miles from the forks, Tummeatapam

made signs for us to go on shore. Here the good old Sachem appeared much

agitated, and sat for some time without uttering a single word. At last

he broke silence, and exclaimed—“White men! white men!” then pointing to

a dark cloud of dust rising near the forks, said, “There they are—there

they are!” Then taking up a handful of sand and throwing it in the air,

exclaimed again—“They are as numerous as the grains of sand; the Indians

have bad hearts: I am hoarse with speaking {249} to them; but they will

not listen to me.” He advised us earnestly to turn back; but seeing us

determined to ascend the river, he asked leave to embark and accompany

us: but this we refused. We took him, however, to one of our boats, and

showed him a brass four-pounder, some hand-grenades, and skyrockets;

then giving him some tobacco to smoke, we embarked, and crossing over to

the right-hand side, pushed on along shore; the Indians being all on the

left bank. As we advanced, the Indians, mounted in numerous squadrons,

kept flying backwards and forwards, seemingly bent on some great design.

We paddled on, however, without a moment’s delay, anxious to get to a

certain point a little beyond the forks, but on the opposite side of the

river, which is here nearly a mile broad. When we came just opposite to

the Indians, they all formed into one mass, and could not have been less

than two thousand, with a fleet of one hundred and seventy-four canoes

along the beach. Their appearance was certainly very imposing and

formidable; and the noise of the war-dance and war-song, mingled with

whooping and yelling, was terrific. We in the mean time reached the

wished-for point, landed, took our stand, fortified our camp, and

awaited the threatened attack. This took place in the afternoon, about

two hours before sunset. All at once the canoes were launched, and we

beheld fifty-seven of them filled with people making for our camp. All

was suspense. Every man squatted down with his gun in his hand, and his

finger on the trigger. As {250} the fleet approached our anxiety

increased, till Mr. Stuart, who kept eyeing them all the time with a

spy-glass, called out—“There is nothing to fear; there are women and

children in the canoes.” This was glad news to some of our party, who

were more intent on saying their prayers than on fighting. By this time

they had got almost close to us, when they all disembarked at the

distance of about two hundred yards. Mr. Stuart, advancing to meet them,

drew a line on the sand, as much as to say, “Do not pass this:” they

obeyed—the pipe of peace was smoked, and laid aside. After a short

pause, a few harangues were made. They smoked again; a trifling present

followed; the business was ended, and at dusk the Indians returned

quietly to their camp. We supposed that Tummeatapam’s account of our big

gun influenced their conduct not a little. Their peaceable behavior,

however, did not altogether quiet our apprehensions; a strong watch was

set for the night, and before the morning dawn every man had his gun in

his hand; but the Indians had disappeared. This demonstration of the

Indians prevented Mr. Clarke from proceeding to his destination by the

usual route. He had therefore to continue with us, and pass by

Oakinacken for Spokane, making a circuitous route of more than three

hundred miles.

From the forks, we proceeded without interruption till we reached

Oakinacken on the 15th of August, where I was to winter; and here we

shall leave the different parties to proceed to their respective {251}

quarters, while we, in the mean time, return back a little to see what

is going on at Astoria.

It has already been stated that Mr. Hunt arrived at Astoria, in the ship

_Albatross_, on the 20th of August. He was mortified to find, from the

resolutions of the 1st of July, that the partners had made up their

minds to abandon the country. M‘Dougall and M‘Kenzie now exerted their

reasoning powers to convince Mr. Hunt of their desperate and hopeless

situation. Nor could that gentleman, with all his zeal for the interest

of Mr. Astor, and the success of his enterprize, shut his eyes or close

his ears against facts so self-evident. After weighing, therefore, all

the circumstances of our situation, Mr. Hunt acquiesced in the measures

that had been taken, and likewise confirmed the powers given to Mr.

M‘Dougall to transfer the goods and furs to the North-West Company.

These points being settled, Mr. Hunt, after remaining a week at Astoria,

left the Columbia again in the _Albatross_. This vessel was bound for

the Marquesas, and Mr. Hunt took a passage in her with the view of

purchasing a ship to carry the furs at Astoria to market, in the event

of no transfer being made to the North-West Company, as well as to

convey thirty-two Sandwich Islanders, now in the service of the Company,

back to their own country; and here I shall take my leave of Mr. Hunt

for the present, and return to my post at Oakinacken.

Everything now assumed a calm and tranquil {252} aspect; the die was

cast; we were now but sojourners for a day; the spring would remove us

to other scenes, and till then we had to make the best we could of the

passing hour. Under this impression, I soothed myself with the hope of

passing a quiet winter, thinking at times on our disappointments. After

all our labours, all our golden dreams, here is the result! Well might

we say, with Solomon, that “all is vanity!” While musing one day on

passing events, I was surprised all at once by the arrival of a strong

party of North-Westers, seventy-five in number, in a squadron of ten

canoes, and headed by Messrs. M‘Tavish and Stuart, two North-West

bourgeois, on their way to the mouth of the Columbia, in high glee, to

meet their ship, the _Isaac Todd_, which was expected daily. Mr. Clarke

also accompanied the North-West brigade, on his way to Astoria. With the

craft peculiar to Indian traders, they had crammed down Mr. Clarke’s

throat that nothing could be done at Astoria without him, although his

accompanying them was like the third wheel to a cart; but it answered

their purpose: for his leaving Spokane threw at once all the trade of

the district into their hands, and Mr. Clarke found out, when it was too

late, that he had been duped. At Astoria, the party arrived safe on the

7th of October.

Here it was that the negotiation between the two great functionaries,

M‘Dougall and M‘Tavish, commenced. The terms were soon adjusted, and the

prices fixed. The whole of the goods on hand, both at Astoria {253} and

throughout the interior, were delivered over to the North-West Company,

at 10 per cent. on cost and charges. The furs were valued at so much per

skin. The whole sales amounted to 80,500 dollars: M‘Tavish giving bills

of exchange on the agents for the amount, payable in Canada. This

transaction took place on the 16th of October, and was considered fair

and equitable on both sides.[87]

But, after all, a good deal of petty manœuvring took place, not very

creditable to the representative of a great body. M‘Tavish expected the

armed ship _Isaac Todd_, fitted out as a letter of marque, into the

river daily, and in that case Astoria would have been captured as a

prize, and become the property of the North-West Company without

purchase; and besides, he had learned that the British Government had

despatched a ship of war to cruise on the coast of the Pacific, and that

she might be looked for hourly; and the moment she entered the river all

the American property, as a matter of course, would have been seized as

a prize. In either case, M‘Tavish would have saved his bills of

exchange. Under this impression he put off from time to time, under

various pretences, the signing of the documents. M‘Dougall and M‘Kenzie,

however, saw through this piece of artifice, and insisted that the

business should be ratified at once. M‘Tavish, however, full of

commercial wiles, tried to evade and retard every step taken. M‘Dougall,

in the mean time, had a squadron of boats in readiness, should any

suspicious vessel come in {254} sight, to transport the furs and goods

up to the Wallamitte out of her reach. While matters were in this

unsettled state, Mr. M‘Kenzie suggested a decisive measure, which

brought the negotiation to a speedy close.

M‘Tavish and his party were encamped at the time within a few yards of

the fort, and sheltered, as it were, under the protection of our guns.

They were also indebted to the generosity of the Astorians for their

daily supplies; being themselves without goods, ammunition, or

provisions.

One morning before daylight Messrs. M‘Dougall and M‘Kenzie summoned all

hands together, seventy-two in number, and after a brief statement of

the views of the North-West in reference to the negotiation, ordered the

bastions to be manned, the guns to be loaded and pointed, and the

matches lighted. In an instant every man was at his post, and the gates

shut. At eight o’clock a message was sent to M‘Tavish, giving him two

hours, and no more, either to sign the bills or break off the

negotiation altogether and remove to some other quarters. By eleven

o’clock the bills were finally and formally signed, and Astoria was

delivered up to the North-West Company on the 12th of November, after

nearly a month of suspense between the drawing and the signing of the

bills.

{255} CHAPTER XVI

Mr. Franchère—Comecomly’s anxiety—His report of a sail—His attachment

to the Americans—Laframboise, the interpreter—Mr. M‘Dougall’s visit—

The _Racoon_ sloop-of-war—Comecomly grows partial to the British

flag—North-West partners—British officers—Astoria changed to Fort

George—Captain Black’s character—Mr. Hunt’s voyage—Commodore Porter—

Mr. Hunt leaves the Marquesas—Arrival at the Sandwich Islands—

Rumours—The ship _Lark_—Eight persons perish—Columbian affairs—The

property delivered—No ice—The people assembled—Voyage—The Cascade

banditti—Two North-West canoes—North-West affray at the cascades—Mr.

Stuart wounded—Mr. Keith’s conduct—Preparations for war—The great

expedition—Conduct of the Cath-le-yach-é-yach Indians—Expedition

fails—The effect—Remarks.

The fate of unfortunate Astoria being now sealed, and the place in the

possession of the North-West Company, the Astorians looked on merely as

indifferent spectators. Mr. Franchère was the only clerk in the American

service who showed a wish to join the new comers. He was a Canadian from

Montreal; and in those days the North-West stood high in Canada, and

particularly in Montreal.[88] There they were everything, and the

Canadian voyageurs {256} had a liberal share of their bounty. It was

therefore natural for him to join that body which was the admiration of

his countrymen.

On the 29th of November, Comecomly arrived in great haste at Astoria,

with a report that a sail had been seen off the Cape, and expressed

great alarm lest it might be a King George ship. He did not wish, he

said, to see any more Britons among them. He and his people were fond of

the Americans, and would make war against any other people entering the

river. The old chief uttered this threat in an angry determined tone.

Then turning to M‘Dougall, he said, “See those few King George people

who come down the river: they were poor; they had no goods, and were

almost starving; yet you were afraid of them, and delivered your fort

and all your goods to them; and now King George’s ships are coming to

carry you all off as slaves. We are not afraid of King George’s people.

I have got eight hundred warriors, and we will not allow them to enslave

you. The Americans are our friends and allies.” M‘Dougall tried to

console him, and told him that the British would not hurt the Americans.

He also rewarded the chief’s devotedness to the American cause with a

new suit of clothing; then told him to keep a sharp look-out to discover

whether the ship was British or American; forbidding, at the same time,

either himself or his people to go on board. This he promised faithfully

to do, and went off highly pleased.

{257} The moment Comecomly left Astoria, Laframboise, the interpreter,

was called in, decked and painted in the full Chinook costume, and

despatched to Cape Disappointment to report whether a vessel was to be

seen, and if so, whether British or American.[89] In the mean time,

M‘Dougall prepared to start the instant a ship was seen. Laframboise had

scarcely reached the Cape when the ship hove in sight, and soon

afterwards came dashing over the bar in fine style, and anchored in

Baker’s Bay, within the Cape. Laframboise immediately returned, and on

his way back met Mr. M‘Dougall, in a boat well manned, going to the

ship, and told him that the new arrival was a British ship of war.

M‘Dougall proceeded, and after remaining for about an hour on board

returned to Astoria and reported the vessel to be the _Racoon_ British

sloop of war, of twenty-six guns, Captain Black, commander.

As soon as M‘Dougall had left the _Racoon_, his royal father-in-law,

with a squad of followers, repaired to the ship to pay their homage to

the British captain. Then the crafty old chief traduced the Americans

and extolled the British; expressing his joy that he had lived long

enough to see once more a great ship of his brother King George enter

the river. Then, with a grin of contempt, he remarked, “The Americans

have no ships to be compared to King George’s ships.” Saying this, he

laid a fine sea-otter skin at Captain Black’s feet, and prepared to

leave the ship. The captain called {258} him back, gave him a good

bumper of wine, and in return for so much loyalty presented him with an

old flag, a laced coat, cocked hat, and sword. His Chinook majesty then

left the _Racoon_, and returned to shore as staunch a Briton as ever he

had previously been an American partisan. But the best part of the farce

was to see Comecomly sailing across, the very next day, to Astoria in

full British uniform, with the Union Jack flying at the masthead.

On board of the _Racoon_ was Mr. M‘Donald, one of the senior partners of

the North-West Company, generally known by the name of Brascroche.[90]

He assumed forthwith the direction of affairs at Astoria. Comecomly soon

got into his sleeve; and before the former was twenty-four hours in

office, the latter had a new chief’s suit on.

On the second day after the _Racoon_ came to anchor, Captain Black and

his officers landed at Astoria, and found they had been baulked in their

expectations; the place being already in the possession of the

North-West Company by an amicable arrangement. They laughed heartily at

their own disappointment, for they had made up their minds that the

capture of Astoria would yield them a rich prize; but in place of a

golden egg they found only an empty shell. After visiting the place,

Captain Black, turning round to one of his officers, said, “The Yankees

are always beforehand with us.”

On the 12th day of December, the death-warrant {259} of short-lived

Astoria was signed. On that day, Captain Black went through the

customary ceremony of taking possession, not only of Astoria, but of the

whole country. What the vague term of “whole country” in the present

case meant, I know not. Does it mean the Columbia? Does it mean all the

country lying west of the Rocky Mountains? Or does it merely mean the

coast of the Pacific? That part of the ceremony which referred to the

“whole country” might have been dispensed with; for the country had

already been taken possession of in the name of his Britannic Majesty,

and that many years ago, by Drake, by Cooke, by Vancouver, and lastly by

Black. The name of Astoria was now changed to that of Fort George; and

this done, the _Racoon_ prepared to leave the Columbia. Captain Black

was a gentleman of courteous and affable manners. He was never once

heard to utter an oath or indecorous expression all the time he was in

the river; and there was a general and sincere regret felt when he left

Fort George.

Having now detailed the principal occurrences at Astoria, we return to

take up the subject of Mr. Hunt’s voyage. The reader will bear in mind

that Mr. Hunt sailed in the _Albatross_ in August last, for the

Marquesas, where he arrived safe. Nor had he been long there till he met

with Commodore Porter,[91] of the United States’ frigate _Essex_, from

whom he learned that a British frigate called the _Phœbe_, with two

sloops of war, the _Cherub_ and _Racoon_, were on {260} their way to

Columbia. Hearing this, Mr. Hunt tried his uttermost to get some

assistance from Captain Porter in order to secure the American property

now in jeopardy at Astoria, but to no purpose. The commodore would not

budge, having no instructions from his government to that effect; and

having besides learned, no doubt, that Mr. Astor refused to join the

Boston merchants in their praiseworthy designs. Mr. Hunt, now finding

all his efforts at the Marquesas fruitless, sailed for the Sandwich

Islands, and landed at Woahoo on the 18th of December. While at that

island, he received the disastrous intelligence that a vessel bound for

Columbia had been wrecked some time previous, at the island of

Tahvorowa.[92] Thinking it possible that it might be a vessel from Astor

bound for Astoria, he repaired thither with all possible despatch, and

found, to his mortification, that his conjectures were but too true.

The vessel in question proved to be the _Lark_, Captain Northcop, bound

for Astoria. The _Lark_, which ought to have sailed in September, 1812,

did not leave New York till the 6th of March, 1813, the very time when

she was expected to arrive at the place of her destination. And this

unaccountable delay of six months accelerated the downfall of

unfortunate Astoria; for had the _Lark_ left New York at the usual time,

and reached the Columbia, her seasonable arrival would have beyond a

doubt changed the face of affairs.

{261} But there was a fatality attending the ships bound for Columbia,

and the loss of the _Lark_ added another link to the chain of

misfortune. This ill-fated vessel upset in a squall, about 250 miles

from the Sandwich Islands, and so sudden and unexpected was the violent

wind, that not a hatch was shut at the time, so she filled with the

second wave and became completely water-logged. The sufferings of the

crew were extreme: they remained lashed to the bowsprit for four days

and four nights without drink, food, or sleep! the rest of the vessel

being completely under water. On the eighth day after the accident, a

jury-mast was rigged, and a small scaffolding erected, on which the men

could sleep. Still their sufferings from thirst and hunger were

intolerable, their only drink a little wine, and a very scanty supply of

raw pork their food. On the twelfth day they came in sight of land, and

six days after that they abandoned the ship and got to shore. Up to the

time of their leaving the ship, six men, a boy, and one of the officers

perished, and the rest of the crew were so reduced from various causes,

that they were utterly incapable of helping themselves, much less the

sinking ship. Soon after the vessel was abandoned, it neared the beach,

stranded, and went to pieces. Nor could all the efforts of the captain

prevent the savage horde from seizing and destroying everything that

came in their way; and not only that, but they effectually prevented him

or any of the crew from approaching the wreck, or touching anything the

{262} waves threw on shore. Nor did the tumultuous spirit of the rabble

subside till they stripped the shipwrecked men of their clothes, as well

as the vessel of her cargo; so that the condition of the sufferers was

very little improved by their getting to land.

During these proceedings, Mr. Ogden, the supercargo, set off for Woahoo,

the residence of king Tammeatameah, to claim protection and restitution

of the property; but behold! his majesty told him in few words that the

wreck belonged to the state. “Who,” said Tammeatameah, “brought the ship

to shore?” “The waves,” replied Mr. Ogden. “Then the waves are mine,”

rejoined the king. “Had you brought the vessel to land,” said his

majesty to Mr. Ogden, “the ship and cargo both would have belonged to

you, and I should have granted you protection and restitution; but as

you abandoned the wreck at sea, and fortune drove it on my territories,

the wreck is no longer yours but mine. The clothing you and your people

brought to shore, shall be restored; but whatever was in the ship, at

the time of her stranding or grounding, belongs to me:” and here the

conversation ended.

Such, then, was the fate of the unfortunate _Lark_, and such the

statement of her commander to Mr. Hunt on his arrival at the Sandwich

Islands; and here again we must leave Mr. Hunt in the happy isles, while

we go back to see what is passing in the Columbia interior, and after

that we shall return {263} again to the subject of Mr. Hunt’s voyage: by

so doing, we shall conform better to the natural connection of the

different subjects, without perplexing the reader’s attention. In the

mean time, it may be stated that Messrs. M‘Kenzie and John Stuart

proceeded to the interior, to see the property delivered over to the

North-West Company, agreeably to the late contract. After these

gentlemen had settled the business at Spokane, and assembled all the

people of the late concern belonging to that district, they came to me

at Oakinacken on the 15th of December: here also Mr. Stuart, from the

She Whaps, had arrived with the men of that quarter. Finishing, then,

the business at Oakinacken, we all prepared to embark, and left that

place for Fort George on the 20th of December.

On our way down the Columbia, such was the mildness of the winter that

not a speck of ice was to be seen. At the head of the cascades, a place

always notorious for its bad population, we encamped, and were disturbed

all night by the whooping and yelling of savages, who kept prowling in

the woods round us. Notwithstanding the strictest watch, several arrows

were shot into our camp, and a man named Plessis was wounded in the ear.

We fired several shots into the woods, from a three-pounder, which kept

the Indians at a distance. In the morning we passed the cascades

peaceably, and arrived safe at Fort George on the 7th of January, 1814.

The people from the Wallamitte had just reached that place before us.

{264} Below the cascades, there is no impediment whatever to the

navigation of the river, by night or by day. The brigade, therefore,

went sweeping down the current in the dark. In passing the last of the

bad places, however, my boat happening to get broken, we had to put

ashore to repair, and, by the time we got under weigh again, the brigade

had left us far behind. Next morning at daybreak, I met, opposite to the

Wallamitte, two North-West canoes and twenty men, under the direction of

Messrs. Keith and Alex. Stuart, two partners of the North-West Company,

on their way to the interior.[93] We breakfasted together, and I

strongly advised them to turn back, since so small a party, and

strangers too, could never hope to pass through the hostile tribes in

safety. They, however, made light of the matter, giving me to understand

that they were North-Westers! so we parted, and they proceeded. While

talking on the subject of danger, one of those swelling fellows, such as

may be ordinarily seen stuck up in the end of a north-west canoe, with a

bonnet of feathers surpassing in size the head of a buffalo bull, turned

round to my men and said,—“Do you think we are Americans? we will teach

the Indians to respect us.” In the darkness of the night, they had not

seen our people on their way down. The moment Mr. M‘Kenzie reached Fort

George, he represented to M‘Donald and M‘Tavish the folly and danger of

the attempt; consequently, a canoe with twelve men, under the direction

of Mr. Franchère, was immediately {265} despatched to bring them back;

but it was unfortunately too late.

On Messrs. Keith and Stuart’s arrival at the portage of the cascades,

the Indians collected, as usual, in great numbers; but did not attempt

anything till the people had got involved and dispersed in the portage;

they then seized the opportunity, and began to help themselves; they

drew their bows, brandished their lances, and pounced upon the

gun-cases, powder-kegs, and bales of goods, at the place where Mr.

Stuart was stationed. He tried to defend his post, but owing to the wet

weather his gun missed fire several times, and before any assistance

could reach him he had received three arrows, and his gun had just

fallen from his hand as a half-breed, named Finlay, came up and shot his

assailant dead. By this time the people had concentrated, and the

Indians fled to their strongholds behind the rocks and trees. To save

the property in this moment of alarm and confusion was impossible; to

save themselves, and carry off Mr. Stuart, was the first consideration.

They, therefore, made for their canoes with all haste, and embarked.

Here it was found that one man was missing, and Mr. Keith, who was still

on shore, urged the party strongly to wait a little; but the people in

the canoes called on Mr. Keith, in the tone of despair, to jump into the

canoe or else they would push off and leave him also; but he, being a

resolute man and not easily intimidated, immediately cocked his gun and

threatened to shoot the first man that {266} moved. Mr. Stuart, who was

faint from loss of blood, seeing Mr. Keith determined, and the men

frightened out of their wits, beckoned to Mr. Keith to embark. The

moment he jumped into the canoe they pushed off and shot down the

current; nor had they proceeded far before they met Mr. Franchère, who

had been sent after them. Both canoes then hastening day and night,

reached the fort the second day. During this time Mr. Stuart suffered

much, and was very low, nor had his wounds been yet examined. The barbs

of the arrows were of iron, and one of them had struck on a stone pipe

which he carried in his waistcoat pocket, and to that fortunate

circumstance he perhaps owed his life: one of these barbs it was found

impossible to extract, and he suffered great pain, and was confined to

bed for upwards of two months. He then began gradually to recover. On

the ninth day the man who had been abandoned in the affray with the

Indians reached the fort in a state of nudity, having torn his clothes

wandering through the woods, suffering at the same time the miseries of

cold and hunger; and thus terminated the first adventure of the

North-West on the Columbia.

The object of this expedition was threefold—to forward despatches for

the east side of the mountains, to convey supplies of ammunition to the

interior, and thence to proceed to the Snake country for Mr. Reed and

his party; but the unlucky affair at the cascades knocked the whole on

the head, and taught the {267} strutting and plumed bullies of the north

that, although they were North-Westers, the lads of the cascades did not

respect their feathers.

This disaster set the whole North-West machinery at Fort George in

motion. Revenge for the insult, and a heavy retribution on the heads of

the whole Cath-le-yach-é-yach nation, was decreed in a full council; and

for a whole week nothing was to be heard about the place but the clang

of arms and the sound of war. Every man worth naming was armed

_cap-à-pie_, and besides the ordinary arms and accoutrements, two big

guns, six swivels, cutlasses, hand-grenades, and handcuffs, with ten

days’ provisions, were embarked; in short, all the weapons and missiles

that could be brought into action were collected and put in train for

destroying the vile banditti of the cascades, root and branch.

Eighty-five picked men and two Chinook interpreters, under six chosen

leaders, were enrolled in the expedition, and the command of it tendered

to Mr. M‘Kenzie, who, however, very prudently declined the honour,

merely observing that as he was on the eve of leaving the country, he

did not wish to mix himself up with North-West affairs; but that he

would cheerfully go as a volunteer. The command then devolved on Mr.

M‘Tavish; and on the 20th of January, with buoyant hearts and flags

flying, a fleet of ten sail conveyed the invincibles to the field of

action, where they all arrived safe on the third day, and cast anchor at

Strawberry Island, near the foot {268} of the rapids. On their way up,

the name of this formidable armament struck such terror into the

marauders along the river, that they fled to the fastnesses and

hiding-places of the wilderness; even the two Chinook interpreters could

neither sleep nor eat, so grieved were they at the thoughts of the

bloody scenes that were soon to follow.

On the next morning after the squadron came to anchor, the Indians were

summoned to appear and give an account of their late conduct, and they

were desired if they wished mercy to be extended towards them, to

deliver up at once all the property plundered from the expedition of

Messrs. Keith and Stuart. The Cath-le-yach-é-yach chiefs, not the least

intimidated by the hostile array before them, sent back this answer,

“The whites have killed two of our people, let them deliver up the

murderers to us, and we will deliver to them all the property in our

possession.” After returning this answer, the Indians sent off all their

wives and children into the thick woods; then arming themselves, they

took their stand behind the trees and rocks. M‘Tavish then sent the

interpreters to invite them to a parley, and to smoke the pipe of peace.

The Indians returned for answer, that “When the whites had paid

according to Indian law for the two men they had killed, they would

smoke the pipe of peace, but not till then. Their wives and children

were safe, and as for themselves they were prepared for the worst.” And

this was all the progress that was made during the first day.

{269} The next day the interpreters were sent to sound them again.

Towards noon a few stragglers and slaves approached the camp and

delivered up a small parcel of cloth and cotton, torn up into pieces,

and scarcely worth picking up, with this message from the chiefs:—“We

have sent you some of the property; deliver us up the murderers, and we

will send you the rest.” Some were for hanging the Indians up at once;

others for detaining them: at last, however, it was resolved to let them

go, and they departed. In the evening two of the principal Indians

surrendered themselves to M‘Tavish, bringing also a small parcel of

odds-and-ends, little better than the last. Being interrogated on the

subject of the stolen property, they denied being present at the time,

and had cunning enough to make their innocence appear, and also to

convince M‘Tavish that they were using their utmost influence to bring

the Indians to terms, and deliver up the property. A council was then

held to decide on the fate of the prisoners. Some were, as in the former

case, for hanging them up without judge or jury; some for taking them

down to Fort George in irons. The council was divided, and at last it

was resolved to treat the prisoners liberally and let them go; and, to

the disgrace of the expedition, they were set at liberty—nor did they

ever return again; and thus ended the negotiations of the second day.

The third day the interpreters were at work again; but in place of

making any favourable impression on {270} the Indians, they were told

that if they returned again without delivering up the murderers, they

would be fired upon. During this day, the Indians came once or twice out

to the verge of the woods. Some were for firing the big guns where they

were seen thickest; others, more ardent, but less calculating, were for

storming their haunts, and bringing the matter to a speedy issue. Every

movement of the whites was seen by the Indians, but not a movement of

the Indians could be discerned by the whites; and the day passed away

without any result. Next morning it was discovered that some of the

Indians lurking about had entered the camp and carried off two guns, a

kettle, and one of the men’s bonnets, and the Indians were seen

occasionally flying from place to place, and now and then whooping and

yelling, as if some plan of attack were in contemplation. This was a new

symptom, and convinced the whites that they were getting more bold and

daring in proportion as their opponents were passive and undecided.

These circumstances made the whites reflect on their own situation. The

savages, sheltered behind the trees and rocks, might cut them all off

without being seen; besides, it was intimated by the interpreters that

the Indians might all this time be increasing their numbers by foreign

auxiliaries; and whether true or false, the suggestion had its effect in

determining the whites that they stood upon dangerous ground, and that

the sooner they left it the better. They therefore, without recovering

the property, firing a gun, or securing {271} a single prisoner, sounded

the retreat, and returned home on the ninth day—making the matter ten

times worse than it was before. This warlike expedition was turned into

ridicule by the Cath-le-yach-é-yachs, and had a very bad effect on the

Indians generally; but the best of it was, on their way back, some

turned off towards the Wallamitte to hide their disgrace, others

remained for some days at the Cowlitz, and M‘Tavish himself reached Fort

George in the night; and so ended this inglorious expedition, which

promised so much and did so little.

Here it may be observed that the nature of the ground along the

cascades, on both sides of the river, is such as to afford no position

secure from attack or surprise; and it showed a manifest want of

judgment, not only in a military commander, but in an Indian trader, to

expose his people in such a dangerous situation, where the Indians might

have waylaid and cut them off to a man, and that without quitting their

fastnesses; whereas the whole difficulty might have been easily

obviated—for a very simple stratagem on the part of the whites might

have quietly secured, as hostages, three or four of the principal men,

and that would have soon settled effectually the whole affair, without

noise or any warlike demonstration.

{272} CHAPTER XVII

Party to the Wallamitte—Hunt’s voyage concluded—The brig _Pedlar_—

M‘Dougall suspected—His character vindicated—Mr. Hunt’s remarks on

the late concern—His liberality—His farewell address to the clerks—

Final departure from Columbia—The party for Canada—Efforts and

disappointments—Snake expedition—The melancholy story of Pierre

Dorion’s wife—Massacre of the Snake party—Remarks—A winter in the

Blue Mountains—List of casualties—Astor’s hopes disappointed—Comment

on the late concern.

After the late expedition to the cascades, in which our people had mixed

themselves up with the North-West Company, and of course came in for a

share of the general odium, they retired to pass the remainder of the

winter in the Wallamitte—a place notorious for gormandizing; and here we

shall leave them to enjoy, in peace and quietness, the fruits of the

chace, while we turn again to take up and finish the wanderings of Mr.

Hunt, who, it will be remembered, was left at the Sandwich Islands in

quest of a vessel.

After Mr. Hunt had learned the fate of the unfortunate _Lark_, as

already related, he had but one course {273} left, namely, to purchase a

ship and return to Columbia with all possible despatch. On meeting with

Captain Northcop, he bargained for and purchased a snug little brig for

ten thousand five hundred and fifty dollars, called the _Pedlar_, from

Boston, and giving the command of her to the captain of the _Lark_, they

embarked, bade a farewell to the Sandwich Islands on the 22nd of

January, and sailed direct for the Columbia River, where they arrived,

after a rather tedious voyage, on the 28th of February.

When Mr. Hunt arrived, he expressed himself dissatisfied with some

points of the negotiation that had taken place; but chiefly with that

part of it which related to the sale of the furs. But it was now too

late: the whole business was irrevocably settled. To repine or find

fault was therefore useless; and, under all circumstances, Mr. M‘Dougall

had perhaps made the best bargain he could. Nor was it likely that two

men placed in different positions, such as Mr. Hunt at the Sandwich

Islands and M‘Dougall at Columbia, could view the same object in the

same light. The circumstance, however, of M‘Dougall having joined the

North-West Company, and having already become a partner in that concern,

threw suspicion on his conduct, and this perhaps, weighed more heavily

on Mr. Hunt’s mind than anything else; and certainly, to say the least

of it, M‘Dougall’s conduct, in this particular, was indiscreet, and

might in some degree justify imputation—at least, his enemies made a

handle of it; yet there is not the least proof that he {274} had

betrayed his trust. M‘Dougall always bore the character of integrity; he

was a man of principle, faithful to his word, and punctual to his

engagements; but at times he was overbearing, peevish, haughty, and

obstinate; and this unfortunate temper had well nigh proved fatal to the

undertaking in the commencement of his career at Astoria. With these

slight exceptions, however, M‘Dougall’s conduct was fair and

unimpeachable. He was not a man of fortune; he had already sacrificed

four years of his time on the Columbia; and, besides, it was not

M‘Dougall that proffered his services, nor was he more than half

inclined to accede to the offers made to him—this we know; but it was

the North-Westers themselves who wished to secure him, being aware that

he was a man of ambition, and fond of enterprize. His experience also

gave him a strong ascendant. M‘Dougall had been with the nabobs of the

North-West before, and did not leave them without tasting of the bitter

cup of disappointment; he could, therefore, have had no predilection in

their favour. Add to this, that previous to any arrangement with the

North-West Company, he had finally closed Mr. Astor’s affairs, and

delivered up all the papers and documents of that concern into the hands

of Mr. M‘Kenzie. This delivery was confirmed by Mr. Hunt.

On the 27th of March, as soon as the people from all quarters were

assembled together, and the papers and drafts belonging to Mr. Astor

delivered over to Mr. M‘Kenzie, Mr. Hunt called all the clerks before

{275} him, and, entering into a full detail of the unfortunate

circumstances which brought about the failure of the enterprize, he

expressed his deep and sincere regret that so much talent and zeal had

been employed to no purpose, and thrown to the winds; that we had been

the pioneers of a more successful and fortunate rival; that the

North-Westers would now reap the fruits of our industry; and the only

consolation left us was that every man had done his duty, and to

circumstances over which we had no control might chiefly be attributed

the failure of our undertaking. He then went on:—

“My friends, I am now about to leave you, and it may be that we part to

meet no more. I am exceedingly sorry that it is not in my power to

reward you according to your zeal and merit. There are two of you,

however, to whom I am in honour bound to make some acknowledgment before

leaving this place; they having come here not for salary, but for

promotion. As a small testimony of my regard, I have placed at their

disposal five hundred dollars each, and wish it were even more for their

sakes. I am to leave this place by sea, and those of you who prefer that

course may embark with me; while for those who feel disposed to remain

in the country, I have made such arrangements with the North-West

gentlemen as may turn to their advantage. For those that will accompany

me I shall do my utmost to provide; the same I’ll do for those that

remain, or go home by land, if in my power.” These words were {276} not

the hollow efforts of cunning or deceit; they were the genuine

expressions of the heart. For Mr. Hunt was a conscientious and upright

man—a friend to all, and beloved as well as respected by all. I found

five hundred dollars placed to my account, and Mr. Seaton the same; we

being the pair alluded to by Mr. Hunt.

On the 3rd of April Mr. Hunt, accompanied by Mr. Halsey, Mr. Seaton, Mr.

Clapp, and Mr. Farnham, embarked on board the _Pedlar_ at three o’clock

in the afternoon, and took their final departure from Fort George. Mr.

M‘Lennan, Ross Cox, and myself, entered the North-West service; and I

proceeded to resume my former charge at Oakinacken.

On the 4th of April the North-West brigade left Fort George for the

interior, and along with it Messrs. M‘Kenzie, Stuart, and Clarke, with

all those of the late concern intending to leave the country, set out on

their journey across land for Montreal, Mr. Franchère among the number.

It will be recollected that he had entered the North-West service; but

by mutual consent he became free, and preferred accompanying the party

for Canada. We shall now leave the Montreal party on their journey, and

turn to another subject.

It will be remembered, that one of the objects of the unfortunate

expedition of Messrs. Keith and Stuart was to proceed to the Snake

country in search of Mr. Reed and his party, who were sent {277} thither

last summer; but that expedition having failed, it was now proposed that

Mr. Keith with a small party should undertake the business, and proceed

to Spokane Fort. From the mouth of the Umatallow, Mr. Keith was to have

taken his departure, and a guide was there engaged for the purpose; but

when everything was arranged, and the party ready to start, the guide

expressed a wish to continue with the brigade as far as the Walla Walla,

and from thence set out for the Snake country. Mr. Keith and his party

accordingly reembarked, and we reached the Walla Walla early the next

day; here, again, we were on the eve of starting, when a few Indians

arrived, and with them the wife of Pierre Dorion the interpreter.[94]

The timely arrival of this poor unfortunate woman put an end to the

Snake expedition; and we shall relate her melancholy story in her own

words:—

“About the middle of August we reached the Great Snake River, and soon

afterwards, following up a branch to the right hand, where there were

plenty of beaver, we encamped; and there Mr. Reed built a house to

winter in. After the house was built, the people spent their time in

trapping beaver. About the latter end of September, Hoback, Robinson,

and Rezner came to us; but they were very poor, the Indians having

robbed them of everything they had about fifteen days before. Mr. Reed

gave them some clothing and traps, and they went to {278} hunt with my

husband. Landrie got a fall from his horse, lingered a while, and died

of it. Delaunay was killed, when trapping: my husband told me that he

saw his scalp with the Indians, and knew it from the colour of the hair.

The Indians about the place were very friendly to us; but when strange

tribes visited us, they were troublesome, and always asked Mr. Reed for

guns and ammunition: on one occasion, they drove an arrow into one of

our horses, and took a capot from La Chapelle. Mr. Reed not liking the

place where we first built, we left it, and built farther up the river,

on the other side. After the second house was built, the people went to

trap as usual, sometimes coming home every night, sometimes sleeping out

for several nights together at a time. Mr. Reed and one man generally

stayed at the house.

“Late one evening, about the 10th of January, a friendly Indian came

running to our house, in a great fright, and told Mr. Reed that a band

of the bad Snakes, called the Dog-rib tribe, had burnt the first house

that we had built, and that they were coming on whooping and singing the

war-song. After communicating this intelligence, the Indian went off

immediately, and I took up my two children, got upon a horse, and set

off to where my husband was trapping; but the night was dark, the road

bad, and I lost my way. The next day being cold and stormy, I did not

stir. On the second day, however, {279} I set out again; but seeing a

large smoke in the direction I had to go, and thinking it might proceed

from Indians, I got into the bushes again and hid myself. On the third

day, late in the evening, I got in sight of the hut, where my husband

and the other men were hunting; but just as I was approaching the place,

I observed a man coming from the opposite side, and staggering as if

unwell: I stopped where I was till he came to me. Le Clerc, wounded and

faint from loss of blood, was the man. He told me that La Chapelle,

Rezner, and my husband had been robbed and murdered that morning. I did

not go into the hut; but putting Le Clerc and one of my children on the

horse I had with me, I turned round immediately, took to the woods, and

I retraced my steps back again to Mr. Reed’s: Le Clerc, however, could

not bear the jolting of the horse, and he fell once or twice, so that we

had to remain for nearly a day in one place; but in the night he died,

and I covered him over with brushwood and snow, put my children on the

horse, I myself walking and leading the animal by the halter. The second

day I got back again to the house. But sad was the sight! Mr. Reed and

the men were all murdered, scalped, and cut to pieces. Desolation and

horror stared me in the face. I turned from the shocking sight in agony

and despair; took to the woods with my children and horse, and passed

the cold and lonely night without food or fire. I was now at a {280}

loss what to do: the snow was deep, the weather cold, and we had nothing

to eat. To undertake a long journey under such circumstances was

inevitable death. Had I been alone I would have run all risks and

proceeded; but the thought of my children perishing with hunger

distracted me. At this moment a sad alternative crossed my mind: should

I venture to the house among the dead to seek food for the living? I

knew there was a good stock of fish there; but it might have been

destroyed or carried off by the murderers; and besides, they might be

still lurking about and see me: yet I thought of my children. Next

morning, after a sleepless night, I wrapped my children in my robe, tied

my horse in a thicket, and then went to a rising ground, that overlooked

the house, to see if I could observe anything stirring about the place.

I saw nothing; and, hard as the task was, I resolved to venture after

dark: so I returned back to my children, and found them nearly frozen,

and I was afraid to make a fire in the day time lest the smoke might be

seen; yet I had no other alternative, I must make a fire, or let my

children perish. I made a fire and warmed them. I then rolled them up

again in the robe, extinguished the fire, and set off after dark to the

house: went into the store and ransacked every hole and corner, and at

last found plenty of fish scattered about. I gathered, hid, and slung

upon my back as much as I could carry, and returned {281} again before

dawn of day to my children. They were nearly frozen, and weak with

hunger. I made a fire and warmed them, and then we shared the first food

we had tasted for the last three days. Next night I went back again, and

carried off another load; but when these efforts were over, I sank under

the sense of my afflictions, and was for three days unable to move, and

without hope. On recovering a little, however, I packed all up, loaded

my horse, and putting my children on the top of the load, set out again

on foot, leading the horse by the halter as before. In this sad and

hopeless condition I travelled through deep snow among the woods, rocks,

and rugged paths for nine days, till I and the horse could travel no

more. Here I selected a lonely spot at the foot of a rocky precipice in

the Blue Mountains, intending there to pass the remainder of the winter.

I killed my horse, and hung up the flesh on a tree for my winter food. I

built a small hut with pine branches, long grass, and moss, and packed

it all round with snow to keep us warm, and this was a difficult task,

for I had no axe, but only a knife to cut wood. In this solitary

dwelling, I passed fifty-three lonely days! I then left my hut and set

out with my children to cross the mountains; but I became snow blind the

second day, and had to remain for three days without advancing a step;

and this was unfortunate, as our provisions were almost exhausted.

Having recovered my sight a little, I set out again, and got clear off

the mountains, and down {282} to the plains on the fifteenth day after

leaving my winter encampments; but for six days we had scarcely anything

to eat, and for the last two days not a mouthful. Soon after we had

reached the plains I perceived a smoke at a distance; but being unable

to carry my children farther, I wrapped them up in my robe, left them

concealed, and set out alone in hopes of reaching the Indian camp, where

I had seen the smoke; but I was so weak that I could hardly crawl, and

had to sleep on the way. Next day, at noon, I got to the camp. It proved

to belong to the Walla Wallas, and I was kindly treated by them.

Immediately on my arrival the Indians set off in search of my children,

and brought them to the camp the same night. Here we staid for two days,

and then moved on to the river, expecting to hear something of the white

people on their way either up or down.”

This ended the woman’s story of hardships and woe. That it was the

Snakes who killed the party there is not the least doubt. The Dog-ribbed

tribe have always passed for bad Indians; and besides, in the dead of

winter, neither the Blackfeet on the east, nor the Nez Percés on the

north, can wage war with the Snakes at that season of the year.

In recapitulating the number of casualties or disasters which befell the

Pacific Fur Company during its short existence, we cannot help lamenting

so great a sacrifice of human life in so limited a period. The tragical

list stands thus:—

{283} Lost on the bar 8

Land expedition 5

_Tonquin_ 27

_Astoria_ 3

_Lark_ 8

Snake country 9

Final departure 1

——

Total 61

Well might we, with Virgil, say, “Who can relate such woes without a

tear!”

We have now brought together, and within a small compass, the accounts

of all the different and widely extended branches of the concern. That

concern which proposed to extend its grasping influence from ocean to

ocean, and which, to use the projector’s own words, “was to have

annihilated the South Company; rivalled the North-West Company;

extinguished the Hudson’s Bay Company; driven the Russians into the

Frozen Ocean; and with the resources of China to have enriched America.”

But how vain are the designs of man! That undertaking which but

yesterday promised such mighty things, is to-day no more.

Various in those days were the opinions entertained as to the merits of

the undertaking in a speculative light; but few there were who saw

clearly through the mist inseparable from a novel and remote design. The

means were ample, the field {284} unbounded, and the River Columbia was

the contemplated centre of a trade conducted by talent, and in the hands

of a nation which, in the natural course of events, must soon encircle

the remotest parts of the earth, and draw within its sphere of action

the fairest portion of the fur trade.

It is therefore not surprising that the jealousy of the Canada traders

should have eagerly seized on the first opportunity to check the

encroachments, or extinguish the rising fame of this infant but gigantic

rival. The course of events was favourable to their ambition, and the

end justified the means conducive to their future aggrandizement.

The multifarious avocations of Mr. Astor must inevitably have prevented

his bestowing the requisite degree of attention on each particular

subject which came under his consideration. Hence, matters within his

immediate reach, or which appealed to his own experience, engrossed his

special care as objects of primary importance; while, on the other hand,

those referring to a distance, or which he had not habitually at heart,

were neglected by him as comparatively trivial.

During the slow progress of a distant and struggling establishment,

exposed to the cruelty and rapacity of savages, or the perils of

uncertain navigation, it may be naturally expected that the owner should

lean to such other parts of the undertaking as may hold out a fair

promise of recompensing for the hazard of the adventure. Hence it was

that {285} his ships were the chief objects of his solicitude; that the

captains retained his special trust; that the settlement was ill

supplied; and hence the ungenerous dispensation of his confidence among

its venturesome though too credulous leaders.

Had he, however, acquired such insight into the practice of the Indian

as he so eminently attained in all other branches of trade; had his mind

been as liberal as it was acute, or as ready to reward merit as to find

fault; or were he as conversant with human nature as he was expert in a

bargain; and had he also begun his undertaking not at the commencement

of a war, but at its close, then competency and ease might have been the

lot of his servants, instead of misery and want—success might have

crowned his ambition, glory finished his career, and the name of Astor

might have been handed down with admiration, as having borne away the

palm of enterprize.

{286} CHAPTER XVIII

Origin of the Oakinackens—Religion—Good Spirit—Evil Spirit—Ideas of a

future state—Ceremonies—End of this world—Extent of country—Names

and number of tribes—Warriors—Population—Royal family—The great

chief, or Red Fox—Wild hemp—Long journeys—Barter—Emblem of royalty—

Government—Indian ideas—Council of chiefs—Manners—Employments—

Plurality of wives—Brawls—Dress and clothing—Stratagems—A savage in

wolf’s clothing—Painted faces and sleek hair.

After closing the drama of the Pacific Fur Company we shall now raise

the curtain a little, and take a cursory peep at the Indians of the

interior; but more particularly of the Oakinackens.

The origin of savage nations is mixed up with so much fable that it is

scarcely possible, through the mist of tradition, to trace their descent

clearly to any source: nor can this surprise us when we consider how

unsatisfactory the most learned inquiries often prove, with respect to

the origin of many civilized nations. Indeed, all that can be aimed at

is to state distinctly and fairly the opinions handed down from one

generation to another, and currently believed by the people themselves.

{287} The origin of the Oakinackens is thus related:—Long ago, when the

sun was young, to use their own expression, and not bigger than a star,

there was an island far off in the middle of the ocean, called

Samah-tuma-whoolah, or White Man’s Island. The island was full of

inhabitants of gigantic stature, and very white, and it was governed by

a tall white woman, called Scomalt. The good woman Scomalt, possessing

the attributes of a deity, could create whatever she pleased. The white

people on this island quarrelled among themselves, and many were killed

in the affray, which conduct so enraged Scomalt that she drove all the

wicked to one end of the island, then broke off the part on which they

stood, and pushed it adrift to the mercy of the winds and waves. There

they floated about for a length of time, not knowing whither they went.

They were tossed about on the face of the deep till all died but one man

and woman, and this couple finding the island beginning to sink with

them made a canoe, and paddling for many days and nights, going in a

westerly direction, they came to a group of islands, and kept steering

through them till they made the main land—the land which they now

inhabit—but they say that it has grown much larger since that time. This

couple, when first expelled from the island of their forefathers, were

very white, like the other inhabitants of the island; but they suffered

so much while floating on the ocean that they became dark and dingy from

the exposure, and their skins {288} have retained that colour ever

since. From this man and woman all the Indians of the continent have

their origin; and as a punishment for their original wickedness, they

were condemned by the great Scomalt to poverty, degradation, and

nakedness, and to be called Skyloo, or Indians.

The religion of the Oakinackens, like that of all Indian tribes, is

difficult to understand, and still more difficult to explain. They,

however, believe in a good and an evil spirit, who preside over the

destinies of man, and that all good actions will be rewarded, and all

evil deeds punished in a future state. The good spirit, or master of

life, they call Elemehum-kill-an-waist, or Sky-appe; and the bad spirit,

Kisht-samah, or Chacha; both are invincible, and keep constantly moving

to and fro through the air, so that nothing can be done unknown to them.

They believe that all good Indians after death go to the

Elemehum-kill-an-waist, and that the wicked who kill and steal, go to

the Kisht-samah. On all solemn occasions they offer up a short prayer to

the good spirit for his assistance and help. They have no places of

worship, public or private. The god whom they adore is invincible. In

all their religious ceremonies the great pipe of peace is smoked as a

peace-offering to the Eleme-hum-kill-an-waist, and also on all occasions

of peace or war, or other matters of state; and this is done by holding

the pipe (when filled and lighted) first to the east, or rising sun, and

drawing three whiffs; then to the west or setting sun; next to the

heavens above; and, {289} lastly, to the earth beneath—in each case

taking care to draw three whiffs. This religious part of the ceremony is

gone through only by the chief when the first pipe is filled, before

entering upon business. Then the chief hands the pipe to his next

neighbour, who smokes without any ceremony, and he to the next, and so

on. At the conclusion of the business there is no ceremony observed.

They believe that this world will have an end, as it had a beginning;

and their reason is this, that the rivers and lakes must eventually

undermine the earth, and set the land afloat again, like the island of

their forefathers, and then all must perish. Frequently they have asked

us when it would take place—the its-owl-eigh, or end of the world.

The Oakinackens inhabit a very large tract of country, the boundary of

which may be said to commence at the Priest’s Rapids on the south;

from thence, embracing a space of upwards of one hundred miles in

breadth, it runs almost due north until it reaches the She Whaps,

making a distance of more than five hundred miles in length; within

this line the nation branches out into twelve tribes, under different

names. These form, as it were, so many states belonging to the same

union, and are governed by petty chiefs, who are, in a manner,

independent; nevertheless, all are ready to unite against a common

enemy. These tribes, beginning at the southern boundary and taking

each according to its locality, may be classed as follows:—

Ska-moy-num-achs, Ke-waught-chen-unaughs, {290} Piss-cows,

Income-can-étook, Tsill-ane, Inti-étook, Battle-le-mule-emauch, or

Meat-who, In-spellum, Sin-poh-ell-ech-ach, Sin-who-yelp-pe-took,

Sa-milk-a-nuigh, and Oakinacken, which is nearly in the centre.[95]

All these tribes, or the great Oakinacken nation, speak the same

language; but often differ a good deal from one another as to accent.

The whole nation, or twelve tribes taken together, could never muster

above six hundred warriors. The number of souls I was never able to

ascertain correctly; but, considering the extent of country they

possess, they are far from being numerous. I should say there are not

more than fifteen persons to every square mile. The Oakinackens are

not a warlike people; fishing and hunting, and not war, are their

usual occupations.

The principal family of the Oakinacken nation bears the title or name of

Conconulps, being the name of the place where the members of it

generally reside, which is situate about nine miles up the beautiful

stream of the same name.[96] The head, or principal chief of this

family, died last year, leaving the inheritance or chieftainship to

Quills-chin-eigh-an, his eldest son, about twenty-five years of age. The

old man himself was called Who-why-laugh, or Red Fox.

The old chief was a venerable and worthy savage: his influence was great

over a wide circle, not only at home, but abroad among the neighbouring

tribes. The Red Fox had been many times with his young {291} men at the

Great Salt Lake, as they call it, meaning the Pacific, the direct road

to which, across the mountains, is almost due west to where they fall on

the sea-coast, in about the 49th degree of north latitude. They take

generally fifteen days to make the journey, sometimes more, sometimes

less, according to circumstances. Traffic is their object: they carry

along with them the wild hemp of the interior, prepared and neatly put

up into small parcels, which they give in exchange for the higua and

trinkets. The hemp is used for making fishing-nets, and is always in

great demand on the coast. The higua, which has already been noticed, is

the most valuable commodity among the Indians to be found west of the

Rocky Mountains, being the circulating medium throughout the country.

The royal insignia of an Indian king or chief is simple, and is always

known in the camp. The Oakinacken emblem is a white wolf-skin,

fantastically painted with rude figures of different colours—the head

and tail decorated with the higua, bears’ claws, and the teeth of

different animals—suspended from a pole, in a conspicuous place near the

chief’s lodge.

On our first arrival among this people, the wolf-skin was always to be

seen waving conspicuously from the pole; but as they began to associate

and got accustomed to us, they became less particular in exhibiting the

ensigns of royalty. But although they occasionally threw off the savage

ferocity and wild aspect peculiar to savages in general, yet they could

{292} not be brought, even after years of friendly intercourse, to

change their habits of life. The morose, sullen, and unsociable

disposition still remained the same; whereas, on the contrary, the white

man almost immediately falls into the customs and ways of the savages.

An Indian accustomed to squat on the ground, and double himself up in

the lodge, is long, long indeed before he can reconcile himself to sit

in a chair; but the white man is at once at home in the Indian lodge,

and becomes as easy and contented sitting, squatting, or lying amongst

dirt and filth, dogs and fleas, as if in his arm-chair at home—showing

how much more easy and natural it is for civilized men to degenerate,

than for the savage to elevate himself to the habits of civilized men;

but here I should observe, that the Oakinackens are by no means

ferocious or cruel, either in looks, habits, or dispositions; but are,

on the contrary, rather an easy, mild, and agreeable people.

The government, or ruling power among the Oakinackens, is simple yet

effective, and is little more than an ideal system of control. The

chieftainship descends from father to son: it is, however, merely a

nominal superiority in most cases. Their general maxim is, that Indians

were born to be free, and that no man has a natural right to the

obedience of another, except he be rich in horses and has many wives;

yet it is wonderful how well the government works for the general good,

and without any coercive power to back the will of the chief, he is

seldom {293} disobeyed: the people submit without a murmur. On all state

occasions, of peace or war, the chief has the assistance of a council;

that is, he calls all the great men together, they form a ring,

sometimes in the chief’s lodge, sometimes in the open air. No one is

admitted into the council, except he can show some marks or trophy of

war, or has performed some praiseworthy deed, according to their ideas,

or else he must be rich in horses or have many wives; or, lastly, he may

be called by the chief, and that entitles him to a seat without any

other qualification. The council being seated, and the ceremonial pipe

smoked, the chief, in his usual sitting posture, holds down his head, as

if looking to the ground, then opens the business of the meeting by a

speech, closing every sentence with great emphasis, the other

councillors vociferating approbation. As soon as the chief is done

speechifying, others harangue also; but only one at a time. The decision

of the council is sure to be zealously carried into effect; but, in all

ordinary matters, the chief is not more conspicuous than any other

individual, and he seldom interferes in family affairs, or the ordinary

routine of daily occurrences: and this, I think, adds greatly to the

dignity of his character.

Each nation or principal tribe has generally two chiefs; one for the

village, and another called the war chief. The former is the head of the

tribe; and, as already observed, holds his office by lineal descent: the

latter is elective, and chosen by the voice or {294} whim of the

majority of the people. Every morning at the dawn of day, the head chief

rides or walks round the camp or village, and harangues as he goes: the

business of the day is then and there settled; but he never interferes

with the affairs of families or individuals. All the movements of the

camp, as a whole, as well as hunting and other matters of consequence,

are settled by the chief’s authority alone; and all weightier matters,

of peace or war, are settled by the chief and council.

The manners of the Oakinackens are agreeable, easy, and unassuming, and

their dispositions mild. They are at times subject to gusts of passion,

but it soon blows over; and, on the whole, they are a steady, sincere,

shrewd, and brave people. They are generally of the middle size, light,

and well made, and better featured and handsomer in their persons,

though darker, than the Chinooks or other Indians along the sea-coast.

The circumstances of climate will perhaps account for this difference of

complexion. Their hair is generally jet black, long, and rather coarse;

they have dark black eyes, with teeth white as ivory, well set and

regular.

The women wear their hair neatly clubbed on each side of the head behind

the ears, and ornamented with double rows of the snowy higua, which are,

among the Oakinackens, called Shet-la-cane; but they keep it shed or

divided in front. The men’s hair is queued or rolled up into a knot

behind the head, and ornamented like that of the women; but {295} in

front it falls or hangs down loosely before the face, covering the

forehead and the eyes, which causes them every now and then to shake the

head, or use the hands to uncover their eyes. The young persons of both

sexes always paint their faces with red and black bars, extremely well

designed.

The men live an active life; between hunting, fishing, war, and making

canoes and domestic implements, they are always employed and

industrious. Nor are the women less busy—curing fish, drying meat,

dressing leather, collecting roots and firewood; with their domestic and

family affairs, their whole time is occupied; and, indeed, they may be

said to serve in the double capacity of wife and slave. They have in

general an engaging sweetness, are good housewives, modest in their

demeanour, affectionate and chaste, and strongly attached to their

husbands and children. Each family is ruled by the joint will or

authority of the husband and wife, but more particularly by the latter.

At their meals, they generally eat separately and in succession—man,

woman, and child.

The greatest source of evil existing among this otherwise happy people

is polygamy. All the chiefs and other great men have invariably a

plurality of wives: for he that has not one is neither chief nor great

man, according to their ideas of greatness, and is looked upon with

contempt. Many have two, three, four, or five, according to their means

and influence; but those wives do not at all times remain {296}

together,—indeed, that would be utterly impossible,—but at different

camps where their relations are; so that the husband goes from camp to

camp occasionally to visit them, keeping seldom more than one or two at

a time with himself. The greatest favourite is of course his constant

companion. Indeed, brawls, and squabbles constantly ensue when several

wives meet; and what is still more revolting, the husband of the eldest

daughter of the family is entitled by their laws to take to wife all her

sisters as they grow up, if able to maintain them.

The dress or costume is nearly the same for men and women. It is simple,

neat, and convenient, and serves unchanged for both winter and summer,

hot and cold, wet and dry, day and night. That of the young females

consists of a robe or garment of deer-skin, down to their ankles, well

dressed, and soft as chamois, with long, wide sleeves, fringed and

ornamented with beads, and the more valuable higuas with a belt around

the waist, adorned with the teeth of animals, beads, and trinkets, and

is far from being unbecoming. Leggings, or Indian stockings, trimmed

with all the showy ornaments of Indian fancy; shoes, and a loose robe of

deer-skin, thrown carelessly round the body, constitute the whole of

their dress at all seasons of the year. While new, white, and clean, it

has a pleasing appearance; nor does clothing of our manufacture ever

become an Indian woman so well as her own {297} native dress; but as

they have no change of clothing, nor any bedclothes excepting an

additional skin thrown over them, their garments soon become shabby and

unsightly. A new garment once put on remains until it is either worn to

rags, or rotten with grease and filth on their backs. Those, however,

worn by young people of a certain age, both male and female, are

frequently bestowed on their elders when half worn, and replaced by

another new suit; so that the younger folks of good circumstances are

always well dressed and clean.

The men’s garments seldom descend below the knee; and in lieu of being

ornamented like those of the women, with gaudy trinkets, they are

wrought and garnished in a very fanciful manner with porcupine quills.

During winter the men wear long detached sleeves or mittens up to their

shoulders, made of the wolf or fox skins, which are united or fastened

together by a string across the shoulders. While on their hunting

excursions, they also wear caps made of the skins of the wolf or bear,

with the ears erect; their heads being thus metamorphosed into wolves’

or bears’ heads, they are enabled to approach the game with greater

facility. But it is not the head alone that is masked or disguised: I

have seen a fellow get into a deer-skin, stripped for the purpose, with

the skin of the head and horns complete, walk off on all fours, and get

actually among a herd of deer without their taking notice of the

deception. But the wolf is the animal they {298} seem to imitate the

best. An Indian concealed in a wolf’s hide, pulls the skin of the wolf’s

head, with the face, eyes, and nose entire, over his own head, the ears

erect, and tail in its proper place, will walk, run, and frisk about on

his hands and feet, so that he can scarcely be distinguished from the

real animal itself. There is no bird nor beast of which they cannot

imitate the voice so as to decoy it within their reach. Hunting is a

favourite exercise with all Indians; and the Oakinackens are very fond

of displaying their dexterity in riding, and decoying the animals of the

chase. All classes of them paint the face, particularly the young.

Painting, and dressing, and decking the hair, is their chief glory; but

they are nowise particular about other parts of their persons.

{299} CHAPTER XIX

Marriage contracts—National custom—Exchange of presents—Nocturnal

visits—The object—Purchasing the bride—Customs on the occasion—Feuds

and quarrels—Tla-quill-augh, or Indian doctor—His office—Precarious

life—Mode of paying him—Manner of treating the sick—Customs and

ceremonies on the occasion—Hard duty—Superstitions—Knowledge of

roots and herbs—Curing wounds—Diseases, or general complaints—

Gambling—Tsill-all-a-come, or the national game—Manner of playing

it—Bets—Gambling propensities—Hot baths—Manner of using them—On what

occasions—Indian qualifications—Gymnastic exercise—Comparison—

General remarks.

We now come to the mode of courtship and the rites of marriage observed

among these people. The law of the land, or rather the established

custom of the country is, that parents betroth or promise their children

in marriage while they are still very young; and these contracts are in

most cases held valid when the minors come of age.

When a marriage alliance is thus entered into between parties on behalf

of their infant children, reciprocal presents exchanged immediately

between them serve as a seal to the marriage contract. These {300}

presents are occasionally repeated afterwards; but not by both parties,

as in the first instance. The friends of the young woman cease to give,

but are always ready to receive what the friends of the young man may

from time to time choose to bestow, until the parties come of age. What

these presents consist of is immaterial, and depends on the means of the

parties. Sometimes horses, or a horse, or a dressed skin, or a few

trinkets of but little value; but as soon as the young man attains the

age of fourteen or fifteen years, and the young woman that of eleven or

twelve, he then goes and pays his addresses to her in person; which is

done in this way:—After the people are all in bed, the young man goes to

the lodge or wigwam of his intended bride, enters it in the dark, makes

a small fire, and sits by it till he is observed by some of the inmates.

The whisper then goes round. If he be welcome, the girl’s mother gets

up, and without speaking to the young man herself, she awakens her

daughter, who sits up with him by the fire; but the matron immediately

retires to rest, leaving the young couple by themselves. During the

_tête-à-tête_, no person in the lodge ever interrupts them. The

interview is not long: the young man then departs, and the girl retires

to rest again. These visits are repeated some three or four times, or

more; and if the suitor be welcomed on every occasion, all goes on well.

He then goes in the day time, pretty sure of success, to his intended

father-in-law, accompanied by some {301} near relative, and bringing

with him the purchase-money; that is, horses, robes, skins, and

trinkets, more or less, according to the rank of the parties. On arrival

they sit down opposite to the door of the lodge. If invited in, all is

well; then the pipe of peace is smoked; one side of the lodge is put in

order; a new mat is spread out, and the young man seated thereon. The

young woman is then brought by her father and mother, each taking her by

an arm, and placed near her intended husband. They are thenceforth

considered lawfully married. This done, the pipe of peace is again

produced; and during the ceremony of smoking, the father-in-law and

young man’s relative expatiate on the worth of their respective

families; after which the parties regale, the bridegroom’s companion

returns home, and the whole business is ended.

Now in all cases of first marriage the wife must be purchased by her

husband; for there is no greater disgrace to a family than for a parent

to give his daughter away in marriage for nothing, as they call it. In

this, as in many other instances, the custom here is exactly the reverse

of that which prevails in civilized life; for in place of giving a

portion with the daughter, the parents require a portion for her; and

the nobler the family the greater must be the donation, for the quality

of the bride is on all occasions measured by the price paid for her by

the husband. I have seen, however, the property tendered more than once

refused; nor is {302} it uncommon to increase the offer once or twice

till it is accepted. We have now shown the fair and natural side of the

question, and shall next turn to take a view of the reverse side.

It sometimes happens that the plighted virgin rejects the parents’

choice. The parents themselves also change their sentiments in this

case; and the young woman marries, not the person she was betrothed to,

but another. This never fails to produce feuds and quarrels between the

families concerned; the tide of animosity runs high—so high, sometimes,

that the tribe splits into two portions, which separate from each other,

perhaps permanently.

We need not touch on second or subsequent marriages; they are made and

unmade according to circumstances, whim, or fancy, without being subject

to any other law than the will of the parties themselves.

We now come to a rather mysterious part of our subject, which I could

never rightly understand, and therefore we do not expect to guide the

reader satisfactorily through this labyrinth of superstition and

jugglery. It refers to a class of functionaries called medicine-men, or

priests, or perhaps, what would be nearer the true meaning, conjurors;

for I know not exactly which of these terms would be the most applicable

to them, as the class of men to which we allude act occasionally in all

these capacities. They are called Tla-quill-aughs, which signifies, in

their language, men of supernatural gifts, who pretend to {303} know all

things, and can kill and cure by magic whom they please. Among the

whites they go by the name of doctors or jugglers.

There are no acquirements, so far as I know, deemed essential to qualify

a person for the office of a tla-quill-augh. In all Indian tribes there

are three or four characters of this description. The tla-quill-aughs

are men generally past the meridian of life; in their habits grave and

sedate, with a certain shyness and cunning about them. Like most

Indians, they possess a good knowledge of herbs and roots, and their

virtues. All classes stand in awe of the tla-quill-aughs’ power or ill

will, and their opinions have much influence in most matters. They are

consulted in all cases of sickness. All classes avoid, as much as

possible, giving them offence, from a belief that they have the power of

throwing, as they express it, their bad medicine at them, whether far or

near, present or absent. The people believe they can converse with the

good and the bad spirits; and the tla-quill-aughs, on their part, make

it their chiefest study to impose on popular credulity, leading others

to credit what they do not believe themselves.

During our stay among these people, it sometimes happened that the

tla-quill-aughs were offended with us for our want of faith. On such

occasions, the other Indians, seeing us act with so much unconcern in

matters which they considered so hazardous to ourselves, would stare at

our ignorance, and look on us as the barbarians of old did on St. Paul

when the {304} viper fastened on his hand, expecting every moment to see

us fall down dead!

From what has now been said on the subject, the reader will no doubt at

once conclude that the tla-quill-aughs are of all men the most happy.

Let him not, however, be deceived, but look upon them as of all men the

most miserable. Every misfortune, sudden death, mishap, or unexpected

disaster that happens to any of the people, is immediately attributed to

some tla-quill-augh, and he, however innocent, pays with his life for

the calamity. On whomsoever the imagination fixes, be he far or near, he

is secretly hunted out, waylaid, and put to death; and this is generally

the fate of all of them!

When any person is dangerously ill, a tla-quill-augh is consulted, and

the price of his services fixed, without his ever seeing the patient. As

soon, therefore, as this preliminary part of the business is arranged,

the price agreed upon is forthwith sent to his abode, and he repairs to

the sick person and begins his operations. He is always paid beforehand—

that payment being according to the quality of the sick person; and it

is believed that the more is given the sooner and the better will be the

case. It is no wonder, therefore, that they should be liberal on such

occasions; but if the patient dies the fee is all returned again.

When the tla-quill-augh enters the wigwam or lodge, he views the patient

with an air of affected gravity, such as we see some of our own doctors

assume on entering the dwelling of a sick person, and {305} tells the

bystanders, with a shake of the head and a groan, that the case is a

very bad one, and that without him the patient would have surely died.

The first thing he then does is to paint himself; and while this is

going on he keeps constantly eyeing the patient, ties up his head with a

leather strap and his waist with a thong, then lays the patient on his

back, takes a piece of strong line, and girds him round the waist as

tight as possible; in which position he is not allowed to stir, or to

receive any kind of nourishment, until the whole ceremony is ended,

which lasts for upwards of three hours every morning and evening until

there is a change; and I have known them for weeks together to continue

the business without intermission, when it would be hard to tell whether

the doctor or the patient was most exhausted.

After the patient is thus placed, the tla-quill-augh, standing over him

in a stooping position, bends down, and with his whole force presses him

with his two fists in the pit of the stomach, as if intending to push

through his body; then, suddenly standing up again, he opens his fists,

and keeps blowing through his fingers, every now and then ejaculating a

short prayer in a loud and frantic manner, stamping with his feet,

blowing with his mouth, and making various gesticulations with his body

and arms, always ending the last sentence, in a tremulous voice and

quaver of the lips, in these words—“Ho! ho! ho! ho! oh! oh!” All this,

the doctor says, is necessary to drive away the evil spirit, for he must

be expelled before a cure {306} can be effected! The moment the bad

spirit is gone out of the sick person, the tla-quill-augh sucks the part

affected with his mouth to extract the bad blood through the pores of

the skin, which, to all appearance, he does effectually. How he manages

to do it I know not; but I have often watched him, and seen him throw

out whole mouthfuls of blood, and yet not the least mark would appear on

the skin. I have also examined the tla-quill-augh’s mouth, supposing he

might have cut it, but I could never discover anything of the kind. By

the colour and quantity of the blood he announces the character of the

disease. He goes through the same ceremony with various parts of the

body till he expels the evil spirit altogether; or if he fails to do so,

and the patient dies, he fixes the death on some rival in the

profession.

Having now detailed the course pursued by the honest and zealous

tla-quill-augh himself, we next come to describe the accompaniment

performed by his assistants. The moment the tla-quill-augh commences his

operations, four other persons, men and women indiscriminately, are

placed in the same wigwam with the doctor and the sick person, two and

two, face to face—that is, opposite to each other, and sitting tailor

fashion, with a small stick in each hand. Between these four persons is

then laid, flat on the ground, a piece of wood about eight feet long,

and on this they keep beating time with their sticks in a loud and noisy

manner, singing all the while; but the moment the tla-quill-augh comes

to the words {307} “Ho, ho, ho!” the assistants who keep drumming on the

piece of wood stop singing, and with their sticks beat one, two, three,

for three successive times, by way of an _amen_ to the doctor’s

invocations. Then silence ensues for about two minutes, when the whole

commences anew, and so on to the end of the ceremony, which, as I have

already said, continues every morning and evening about three hours.

The noise made by drumming on the stick, in conjunction with the

tla-quill-augh’s hallooing, is intended to frighten away the evil

spirit, and prepare the patient for medicine; so that, between the

doctor’s bawling and stamping, and the drummer’s beating and singing,

the noise may be heard a quarter of a mile round. With all this

absurdity, many extraordinary cures are performed by these people. They

have a profound knowledge of all simples, and if the complaint be

manifest, as in cases of cuts and wounds, or the like, their skill is

really astonishing. I once saw an Indian who had been nearly devoured by

a grizzly bear, and had his skull split open in several places, and

several pieces of the bone taken out just above the brain, and measuring

three-fourths of an inch in length, cured so effectually by one of these

jugglers, that in less than two months after he was riding on his horse

again at the chase. I have also seen them cut open the belly with a

knife, extract a large quantity of fat from the inside, sew up the part

again, and the patient soon after perfectly recovered. The bite of the

rattlesnake {308} they cure effectually; and as to vomits, purges,

decoctions, and the knowledge of phlebotomy, none can be more expert and

successful than the tla-quill-aughs; and I have witnessed two or three

cases, which baffled the skill of a regular surgeon, cured by them.

The diseases most frequent among these people, are indigestion, fluxes,

asthmas, and consumptions. Instances of longevity are here and there to

be found among them, but not very often.

From the doctor we now turn to the gambler. Play or gambling is a

favourite pastime among all classes of the Oakinackens. The principal

game is called tsill-all-a-come, differing but little from the

chall-chall played by the Chinooks or Indians along the sea-coast. This

game is played with two small, oblong, polished bones, each two inches

long, and half an inch in diameter, with twenty small sticks of the same

diameter as the bones, but about nine inches long.

The game does not set any limits to the number of players at a time,

provided both sides be equal. Two, four, or six, as may be agreed upon,

play this game; but, in all large bets, the last number is generally

adopted. When all is ready, and the property at stake laid down on the

spot, the players place themselves in the following manner: the parties

kneel down, three on one side, and three on the other, face to face, and

about three feet apart; and in this position they remain during the

game. A {309} piece of wood is then placed on the ground between them:

this done, each player is furnished with a small drum-stick, about the

size of a rule, in his right hand, which stick is used for beating time

on the wood, in order to rivet attention on the game. The drumming is

always accompanied with a song. The players, one and all, muffle their

wrists, fists, and fingers with bits of fur or trapping, in order the

better to elude and deceive their opponents. Each party then takes one

of the two small polished bones, and ten of the small sticks, the use of

which will hereafter be more fully explained. In all cases the arms and

body are perfectly naked, the face painted, the hair clubbed up, and the

head girt round with a strap of leather. The party is now ready to begin

the game, all anxious and on the alert: three of the players on one side

strike up a song, to which all keep chorus, and this announces the

commencement. The moment the singing and drumming begin on one side, the

greatest adept on the other side instantly takes the little polished

bone, conceals it in one of his fists, then throws it into the other,

and back again, and so on from one fist to the other, nimbly crossing

and recrossing his arms, and every instant changing the position of his

fists. The quickness of the motions and the muffling of the fists make

it almost impossible for his opponents to guess which hand holds the

bone, and this is the main point. While the player is manœuvring in this

manner, his three opponents eagerly watch his {310} motions with an

eagle’s eye, to try and discover the fist that contains the bone; and,

the moment one of them thinks he has discovered where the bone is, he

points to it with the quickness of lightning: the player at the same

time, with equal rapidity, extends his arm and opens his fist in the

presence of all; if it be empty, the player draws back his arm and

continues, while the guesser throws the player one of the little sticks,

which counts one. But if the guesser hits upon the fist that contains

the bone, the player throws a stick to him and ceases playing, his

opponent now going through the same operation: every miss costs a stick

on either side. It is not the best of three, but three times running:

all the sticks must be on one side to finish the game. I have seen them

for a whole week at one game, and then not conclude, and I have known

the game decided in six hours.

It sometimes happens, however, that after some days and nights are spent

in the same game, neither party gains: in that case, the rules of the

game provide that the number of players be either increased or

diminished; or, if all the parties be agreed, the game is relinquished,

each party taking up what it put down: but so intent are they on this

favourite mode of passing their time, that it seldom happens that they

separate before the game is finished; and while it is in progress every

other consideration is sacrificed to it; and some there are who devote

all their time and means solely to gambling; and when {311} all is lost,

which is often the case, the loser seldom gives way to grief. They are a

happy people, never repining at what cannot be remedied. Various other

games and amusements occupy their time: among which, the females have

several that are innocent and amusing; but singing and dancing are their

delight, and in these they often indulge to excess.

Next we come to the description of their hot baths, or rather fiery

trial. To construct one of these baths a good deal of trouble and labour

is required. A hole, fifteen feet in diameter, and about four feet deep,

is dug in some convenient place for wood and water. The hole is then

covered over with a thick coat of earth, as close as possible, leaving

only a small aperture or opening in one side, barely sufficient to admit

a single person to creep in and out on all fours. This done, a pile of

wood, with a considerable number of stones laid thereon, is set on fire

in the centre; and when the wood is consumed, and the stones red hot,

water is thrown over them, causing a dense vapour and intense heat; yet

in the midst of this suffocating cloud, where one would suppose a

salamander itself could hardly live, the Indians enter stark naked, and

no sooner in than the aperture or hole is closed upon them. Here they

keep singing and recounting their war adventures, and invoking the good

spirit to aid them again, rolling and groaning all the time in this

infernal cell for nearly an hour; when all at once they bound out one by

one, like so many {312} subterranean spectres issuing from the infernal

regions. Besmeared with mud, and pouring down with sweat, they dash into

the cold water, and there plunge and swim about for at least a quarter

of an hour, when they return again to their cell, going through this

fiery trial twice—morning and evening—on all great occasions. On all

occasions of peace or war; of success in their enterprises, and good

luck in hunting, the bath is resorted to. In short, great virtues are

supposed to arise from the regular observance of this general custom of

purification.

In the wide field of gymnastic exercise, few Indians—I might say none—

have been found to cope with civilized man. In all trials of walking, of

running, of fatigue, feats of agility, and famine, even in the Indian’s

own country, he has to yield the palm of victory to the white man. In

the trials of the hot bath alone the savage excels.

The ceremony of the bath is not peculiar to the Oakinackens: it is

practised by all the aboriginal tribes on the American continent.

{313} CHAPTER XX

Social habits—Winter habitations—Economy of the winter—Summer

employments—Collecting of food—Fish barriers—Salmon—Division of

labour—Roots and berries—Scenes at the fish camp—Mode of catching

the deer—Preparation of food—Furnaces or ovens—Implements of

warfare—Spampt, how made—Pine moss—Bread, how prepared—Great

war-dance—Manner of fighting—Treaties of peace—Scalps—Slaves—Funeral

ceremonies—Mode of interment—Graves—Superstitions—Emblems—Customs—

Mourning—Punishments—Sedate habits and docile dispositions.

Their winter habitations are constructed chiefly of mats and poles,

covered over with grass and earth; and are made very commodious,

comfortable, and roomy. The inside being dug about a foot or two below

the surface of the ground, a precaution which adds much to their warmth.

They are invariably open at the ridge pole all along, and the reason is

obvious; for without any chimney, the smoke by this means has a free

vent upwards. These lodgings resemble in appearance the roof of a common

dwelling-house removed from the walls and placed on the ground; the

fires are made in the centre, directly under the ridge pole, and about

six or eight feet apart, and are in proportion to the number of {314}

families who live under the same roof; each family having generally one

fire. The doors are but few, and situate to suit convenience; in the

front, in the back, or the gable ends, and are merely oblong holes, over

which mats are suspended by means of a wooden hinge, which mat or door

must be lifted up and down every time a person goes in or out.

Although these dwellings have neither partition nor division in any of

them, yet the property of each individual, the privacy of each family,

and the place each occupies, are so well secured and ascertained as to

afford to a rude people all the advantages, and even conveniences of a

more complicated building. These dwellings are generally long and

narrow, and contain each from one to five or six families, whose winter

supplies of provisions are considered as one common stock, and as such

are served out in winter by each family in turn, until the whole is

consumed.

We must now relate the manner in which these people pass the summer

season, and provide food for the winter. As soon as the snow begins to

disappear in the spring, the winter camps break up, and the whole tribe

disperse here and there into small parties or families; and in this

unsettled manner they wander about till the middle of June, when they

all assemble again in large bands on the banks of the different rivers,

for the purpose of fishing during the summer season. Here, then, their

fish barriers are constructed, by the united labour of the whole village

or camp assembled in one place. The salmon being then in the utmost

abundance, no sooner are the barriers finished than one {315} or more of

the principal men are appointed, by general consent, to superintend

each. The person or persons thus chosen divide the fish every morning,

and settle all matters respecting the barrier and fish for the current

year. Their authority is law in all those matters till the end of the

fishing season, which is generally about the beginning of October.

During the season the camp is divided into four parties, for the various

purposes of daily life, and of laying in a stock of food for the

approaching winter. The men are divided into two parties; one for

hunting, and the other for fishing: and of the women also, one party

cure the fish, another collect roots and berries. All these different

productions are dried and seasoned in the sun, and require much

attention and labour. The fish when properly cured is packed up into

large bundles or bales; the roots and berries into bags made of rushes.

The stock for the winter, thus daily and weekly produced, is then,

during the nights, conveyed in secret, and put in _caches_; that is,

hidden under ground among the rocks; each family having its share apart,

secure from wild beasts and the eye of thieves. During the continuance

of the fish season, the Indian camp is all life. Gambling, dancing,

horse-racing, and frolicking, in all its varied forms, are continued

without intermission; and few there are, even the most dull and

phlegmatic, who do not feel, after enjoying so much hilarity, a deep

regret on leaving the piscatory camp on these occasions.

As soon as the fish season is over, the Indians again all withdraw into

the interior or mountains, as in the {316} spring, and divide into

little bands for the purpose of hunting the various animals of the

chace. In their mode of ensnaring the deer and other animals, they are

generally very successful. Exclusive of hunting these animals with their

guns, bows, and arrows, and running them down with their horses, which

latter practice is a favourite amusement, they frequently select a

valley or favourable spot of ground between two mountains, having a

narrow outlet or pass at one end; and the better to decoy the unwary

game into it, bushes are planted on each side of the pass, contracting,

as it were, the passage as it advances into the form of a funnel, until,

at the outlet, it becomes quite narrow. Here the animals, being pressed

forward by their pursuers, fall an easy prey to those who in ambush

await their arrival, and by whom they are generally all killed while

struggling to extricate themselves from the snare.

The Indians, after passing a month or six weeks in this roving state,

congregate again into large bands for the purpose of passing the winter

on the banks of small rivers, where wood is convenient and plentiful.

During this season they remain in their habitations, constructed as

already described; nor do they break up their winter camps till about

the 1st of February. During this cold and tedious period, they chiefly

subsist on the stock laid in during the summer season, and in severe

winters, when little can be obtained from the chace, they are reduced to

great extremes before the snow disappears, or the spring invites them to

rove about again.

Their food is boiled in watape kettles, a mode {317} common to all the

aborigines throughout the continent. The process is simple, and similar

to that practised by the Chinooks and other tribes along the Pacific.

The dish or kettle being placed on the ground, and nearly filled with

water, the meat, fish, or other viand, is cut or torn into small pieces,

and after being put into the kettle, some heated stones, by the help of

wooden tongs, are immediately thrown in also, which is no sooner done

than the water in the dish is in a state of ebullition. After a few

minutes’ boiling the stones are taken out and instantly replaced by

others, also red hot, which second set generally suffices to complete

the process. The contents are then served up, and each individual

receives his portion on a piece of bark or mat. The broth, in which the

food is boiled, is likewise carefully dealt round with a wooden ladle

into bark or wooden dishes, and is, with all the ashes and dirt incident

to the process, considered as the most delicious part of the repast.

Their culinary vessels are seldom washed or cleaned. The dog’s tongue is

the only dish-cloth known.

Roots and vegetables of every description are cooked during the summer

by means of furnaces in the open air; they are then baked on stones,

formed into small cakes, and dried in the sun, after which the whole is

carefully laid by for winter use. And while speaking of a furnace and

baking, we ought not to omit stating how they bake their bread, and what

kind of bread they generally make use of.

On the pines of this country there is a dark brown moss which collects

or grows about the branches. {318} This moss is carefully gathered every

autumn, when it has the appearance of dirty coarse wool. It is soaked in

water, pressed hard together, and then cooked in an oven or furnace,

from which it comes forth in large sheets like slate, but supple and

pliable, resembling pieces of tarpauling, black as ink, and tasteless;

and when cut with a knife it has a spotted or marbled appearance, owing

to the number of small sprigs of wood, bark, or other extraneous

substances, unavoidably collected with the moss in taking it from the

trees. This cake when dried in the sun becomes as hard as flint, and

must always be soaked in water before use. It is generally eaten with

the raw fat of animals, as we use bread and butter. It is viscous and

clammy in the mouth, with but little taste. Thus prepared it will keep

for years; is much liked by the natives, and sometimes eaten by the

whites. It is called squill-ape.

We now come to their warlike weapons and manner of fighting. Generally

speaking, they are rather a trafficking commercial people than a nation

of warriors; yet, when called to war, they are resolute and brave.

Their implements of warfare are guns, bows, and arrows (in the use of

which they are very expert), shields, knives, and lances, and a

bludgeon, for close combat, called spampt. This deadly weapon is made in

the following manner:—A piece of hard wood, about nine inches long, and

half an inch in diameter, of a cylindrical form, resembling a short

rule, is tightly covered over with a piece of raw hide, which being

large at one end forms a bag, in which is {319} enclosed a round stone

of the size of a goose-egg. This has the appearance of a ball at the end

of the staff: the space between them about an inch, serving as a joint;

the other end is tied round the wrist of the right hand with a thong. An

Oakinacken thus accoutred, and mounted on his fleetest steed, is ready

for action.

The hot bath, council, and ceremony of smoking the great pipe before

war, is always religiously observed. Their laws, however, admit of no

compulsion, nor is the chief’s authority implicitly obeyed on these

occasions; consequently, every one judges for himself, and either goes

or stays as he thinks proper. With a view, however, to obviate this

defect in their system, they have instituted the dance, which answers

every purpose of a recruiting service. As soon, therefore, as war is

resolved upon, a large ring or circle is marked out, into which the war

chief enters; the belligerent declaration is published in a loud voice,

and the great war-dance commenced, which is carried on with much spirit

and shouting; every man, therefore, who enters within this ring, and

joins in the dance, thereby pledges himself, and is, according to the

laws of the tribe, in honour bound to assist in carrying on the war, or

in other words, is a soldier, and bound to obey the great war chief.

Stratagem and ambuscade, so peculiar to all savages, is always resorted

to by these people, who dislike an open attack; and for the want of

proper discipline and subordination, never stand face to face in the

fight if they can avoid it. If they fail to surprise their enemy in the

darkness of night, or {320} the dawn of morning, which is their

favourite mode of attack, they skirmish at a distance, occasionally

dashing at full speed near enough to have a flying shot at each other,

without any kind of order, shouting and yelling all the time in the most

wild and frantic manner, capering and cowering on their horses to evade

their adversaries fire. If one on either side happens to fall, a rush is

made for the scalp, which brings the foes into close contact. The firing

with guns then ceases, and the quick shooting of arrows commences; but

the arrows soon cease also, and the spear comes into play; but this in

turn is soon laid aside, and gives place to the bloody knife and deadly

spampt. These are the last weapons used, except, perhaps, a few random

shots at retiring. This last stage of the encounter or conflict is often

severely contested, but does not last long. The moment a chief or

principal man falls, fighting gives place to mourning; they get

discouraged, and instantly fly without disgrace, and the battle is

ended.

The number slain on these occasions is comparatively few; and when the

conquerors bear off in barbarous triumph a dozen scalps or so, it is

thought a great victory. Their treaties of peace, though made with the

utmost solemnity, are but the words of children, no sooner uttered than

forgotten. With all this barbarity, however, they are kind and indulgent

to their slaves. War not being their trade, there are but few slaves

among them, and these few are adopted as children, and treated in all

respects as members of the family.

Next in order are their funeral ceremonies, mourning, {321} and manner

of interment. When a chief, or other principal personage, is on his

deathbed, he is surrounded by his relatives, who observe a strict

silence and calm indifference while the zealous tla-quill-laugh goes

through the solemnities of his office; but the moment the patient dies,

the house or lodge is abandoned, and loud clamorous mourning commences:

the whole camp, during the first burst of lamentation, join in the

tumultous uproar. This lasts for some hours without intermission, and

then gives way to a dead silence; during which the body, wrapped in a

new garment, is removed to the open air, and the house or lodge is razed

to the ground. Every now and then the mourning bursts forth anew. The

moment one begins, the whole instantly join; the cry being reinforced by

the howling of dogs and screaming of children. A few hours after death

the body is interred. For this purpose, a round hole is dug in some

convenient spot, and the body is placed in a sitting posture, but

inclining a little backwards, with the knees raised up nearly to the

breast. All the most valuable trinkets and trophies of war possessed by

the deceased are laid on his breast, supported by his knees, and

interred along with the body. If any of these articles be withheld from

the grave, the spirit of the deceased, according to the popular belief,

can never be at rest; consequently the custom is religiously observed.

After the grave is filled up with earth and stones, a small pile of wood

is placed over it, and several articles are suspended from the pile,

indicating the quality of the deceased. If he be a warrior, the bow and

scalp mark his grave; if a {322} hunter, an animal is portrayed thereon;

the spear and salmon in like manner point out the fisherman’s place of

rest. Immediately after the interment, all the valuable property, such

as horses, guns, bows, and other things not put into the grave, are

destroyed and scattered around it as a sacrifice. The near relations

then cut their hair short, scarify their flesh, besmear their faces and

bodies, clothe themselves in old tattered garments, and abandon

themselves to excessive mourning for many months together; strictly

taking care not to mention the name of the deceased.

If a husband dies, the widow, according to custom, must remain two years

single; during which time she never paints, combs her hair, nor puts on

new clothing. After some months, their loud lamentation is confined to

the morning and evening; but in their grief, during the first months,

they howl incessantly and desperately, as if excess of grief were to be

measured by excess of noise. Yet no sooner are these wild fits over than

they seem all of a sudden to forget their anguish, and at once resume a

tranquil, placid, and cheerful countenance.

They have no place appropriated for the reception of the dead; but their

graves are generally on some eminence, rocky ground, or stony place, and

the spot is always held sacred.

Among these people there are no regular punishments instituted for

crimes or offences of any kind; yet all transgressions are cognizable

and punished by their laws, so as to ensure security to life and

property. Theft, in particular, is held in the utmost abhorrence, so

that it rarely occurs among them. {323} The property of each individual,

even of the slave, is held sacred.

They perfectly understand the nature of barter and traffic, and may be

called, in their way, a commercial and trading people; but, like all

Indians, they cannot resist the temptation of European articles, and

will give everything they possess for the toys and trifles of the

whites. They are a sedate and docile people, and very susceptible of

improvement, and could, with comparatively little trouble, I am

confident, be brought round to a state of civilization. Their

superstitions seem to be the only barrier between them and the

attainment of a more refined state.

{324} CHAPTER XXI

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.

In calculating time the Oakinackens invariably use their fingers, and go

by tens. A common mode of counting with them is by snows or winters. Ask

an Indian his age, he immediately casts his eyes on his hands;

calculates his age by his fingers, and answers by holding so many of

them up to view, each finger standing for ten years. Some of the most

intelligent among them will reckon to a thousand tolerably correct; but

by far the greater part can scarcely count twenty.

Contrary to the customs in civilized life, the children are never weaned

until they give up the breast of their own accord, or another child is

born to supplant the former; nor is the child ever hand-fed {325} while

at the breast, but lives solely on its mother’s milk till old enough to

feed itself. Yet the infant is generally robust and healthy; but the

mother soon becomes an old woman. Here a singularity in their manners

presents itself; for the child never receives a name till it has done

sucking its mother’s breast, and then it is named according to the

disposition it evinced up till that time. If a male child, fractious and

ill-humoured, it is named to please the ear, after some carnivorous bird

or beast, such as the bear, the wolf or the vulture; if, on the

contrary, it be mild and quiet, it will be named after the deer, the

rabbit, or the pheasant, so that the name generally indicates the

temper; and while we are speaking of names, it may be proper to follow

that subject a little farther, because it is one that generally forms a

striking characteristic of Indian manners.

Indians of all classes change their names periodically, taking new ones

according to fancy or caprice; and it is a peculiar habit, even a

national custom, for the male and female children to address their

parents in a manner peculiar to their sex, if I may so express myself,

and to name their brothers and sisters according to their respective

ages, as shall presently appear. To explain this rather knotty point, we

shall suppose a family to consist of six children, three boys and three

girls, besides the parents; and in order to make the thing as

intelligible as possible, we shall again suppose that one of the boys—

not the eldest, nor yet the youngest, but the middle one—is to address

each of the {326} other members of the family. The boy then says,

En-leo, my father; Es-koy my mother; En-ketch-eck, my elder brother;

E-shentsa my younger brother; El-kick-cha, my elder sister;

El-shets-spo, my younger sister; E-she-she, my uncle; and Es-wa-wis-saw,

my aunt. We shall now take the female in the same degree; that is, the

middle one, who must say, En-mistem, my father; En-toume, my mother;

El-keck-cha, my elder sister; El-shets-ops, my younger sister;

El-kack-itsa, my elder brother; El-she-shentsa, my younger brother;

Es-melt, my uncle; and Es-ta-ta-qua, my aunt.

Age and change of circumstance have great influence in causing change of

names at different periods of life; but no change ever takes place in

the above family mode of expression. During my first years among them,

the chief went by the name of Its-kay-kay-etsa, or painted garment.

After the death of the fox his father, he changed his name to

Quill-quill-is-tshen-ach-can, or public speaker; and of late he has

changed it again to that of Whist-as-ma-whey-kin, or the white bear, a

name only assumed by chiefs or other great men; but in general these

changes may be classed under three heads; one for youth, one for middle

age, and one for old age.

On our travels one day, we overtook a party of Indians, when one of my

men accosted the chief, calling him by name. The chief looked

steadfastly at him, but made no reply. Being called again by name, he

turned half round, and with a significant air, said, “You white people

say you know all things; do you not then know that I have changed {327}

my name?” “No,” said the man; “how could I know? for you change your

names as often as the moon changes; but the whites, like the sun, never

change.” “And who made the moon?” said the Indian. “God, to be sure,”

rejoined the man. “And who made the sun?” continued the chief. “The same

who made the moon,” was the reply. “Then if God made us after the moon

subject to change, and you after the sun unchangeable, why do you

reproach us? In reproaching us, you reproach the master of life.”

If you offend or even assault an Indian, he seldom resents at the

moment, or shows any signs of violence or passion; but, on the contrary,

he remains sullen, mute, and thoughtful. This forbearance, however,

forebodes no good; for he broods over the insult or injury, and

meditates revenge. Years may elapse, but the injury is still fresh in

the savage breast; and there is but one way left for you to ward off the

meditated blow, and regain his friendship, and that is, by a

peace-offering or present; for here property pays for all offences.

If one Indian kills another, the murderer saves his own life by making a

suitable present to the nearest relative of the deceased; and they draw

no line of distinction between accidental or justifiable homicide and

wilful murder: death caused in any way by another is looked upon in the

same criminal light.

If a native flies into a passion with a white man, which is seldom the

case, his passion or anger ought to be allowed to evaporate; and if you

can muster {328} patience enough to keep your temper till his rage is

past, you can then do with him just what you please; for nothing subdues

and reforms a savage more than patience and silence on your part while

he is giving way to anger. Forbearance and even-handed justice are far

more successful instruments in governing Indians than powder and ball.

The confirmation of this statement will be found in the spectacle of the

millions of aborigines that inhabit this quarter of the globe alone, and

the comparatively few white men, not perhaps one to a thousand, who live

among them. Yet the white man does not always observe the golden rule of

forbearance and even-handed justice, but often arbitrarily arrogates the

right of domineering over the natives; and yet these, in almost all

cases, yield without a murmur. And to our shame be it said, that reason

and right, humanity and forbearance, are as often to be found among the

savages themselves as among the whites, who live by sufferance among

them. The Indian in his natural state is happy, with his trader he is

happy; but the moment he begins to walk in the path of the white man his

happiness is at an end. Like a wild animal in a cage, his lustre is

gone.