Regrets of the Author at the Loss of his Companions.--Obsequies of
a Sandwich Islander.--First steps in the Formation of the intended
Establishment.--New Alarm.--Encampment.
The narrative of Weeks informed us of the death of three of our
companions, and we could not doubt that the five others had met a
similar fate. This loss of eight of our number, in two days, before we
had set foot on shore, was a bad augury, and was sensibly felt by all of
us. In the course of so long a passage, the habit of seeing each other
every day, the participation of the same cares and dangers, and
confinement to the same narrow limits, had formed between all the
passengers a connection that could not be broken, above all in a manner
so sad and so unlooked for, without making us feel a void like that
which is experienced in a well-regulated and loving family, when it is
suddenly deprived by death, of the presence of one of its cherished
members. We had left New York, for the most part strangers to one
another; but arrived at the river Columbia we were all friends, and
regarded each other almost as brothers. We regretted especially the two
brothers Lapensée and Joseph Nadeau: these young men had been in an
especial manner recommended by their respectable parents in Canada to
the care of Mr. M'Kay; and had acquired by their good conduct the esteem
of the captain, of the crew, and of all the passengers. The brothers
Lapensée were courageous and willing, never flinching in the hour of
danger, and had become as good seamen as any on board. Messrs Fox and
Aikin were both highly regarded by all; the loss of Mr. Fox, above all,
who was endeared to every one by his gentlemanly behavior and
affability, would have been severely regretted at any time, but it was
doubly so in the present conjuncture: this gentleman, who had already
made a voyage to the Northwest, could have rendered important services
to the captain and to the company. The preceding days had been days of
apprehension and of uneasiness; this was one of sorrow and mourning.
The following day, the same gentlemen who had volunteered their services
to seek for the missing islander, resumed their labors, and very soon
after they left us, we perceived a great fire kindled at the verge of
the woods, over against the ship. I was sent in a boat and arrived at
the fire. It was our gentlemen who had kindled it, to restore animation
to the poor islander, whom they had at last found under the rocks, half
dead with cold and fatigue, his legs swollen and his feet bleeding. We
clothed him, and brought him on board, where, by our care, we succeeded
in restoring him to life.
Toward evening, a number of the Sandwich-islanders, provided with the
necessary utensils, and offerings consisting of biscuit, lard, and
tobacco, went ashore, to pay the last duties to their compatriot, who
died in Mr. Aikin's boat, on the night of the 24th. Mr. Pillet and I
went with them, and witnessed the obsequies, which took place in the
manner following. Arrived at the spot where the body had been hung upon
a tree to preserve it from the wolves, the natives dug a grave in the
sand; then taking down the body, and stretching it alongside the pit,
they placed the biscuit under one of the arms, a piece of pork beneath
the other, and the tobacco beneath the chin and the genital parts. Thus
provided for the journey to the other world, the body was deposited in
the grave and covered with sand and stones. All the countrymen of the
dead man then knelt on either side of the grave, in a double row, with
their faces to the east, except one of them who officiated as priest;
the latter went to the margin of the sea, and having filled his hat with
water, sprinkled the two rows of islanders, and recited a sort of
prayer, to which the others responded, nearly as we do in the litanies.
That prayer ended, they rose and returned to the vessel, looking neither
to the right hand nor to the left. As every one of them appeared to me
familiar with the part he performed, it is more than probable that they
observed, as far as circumstances permitted, the ceremonies practised in
their country on like occasions. We all returned on board about sundown.
The next day, the 27th, desirous of clearing the gangways of the live
stock; we sent some men on shore to construct a pen, and soon after
landed about fifty hogs, committing them to the care of one of the
hands. On the 30th, the long boat was manned, armed and provisioned, and
the captain, with Messrs. M'Kay and D. Stuart, and some of the clerks,
embarked on it, to ascend the river and choose an eligible spot for our
trading establishment. Messrs. Boss and Pillet left at the same time, to
run down south, and try to obtain intelligence of Mr. Fox and his crew.
In the meantime, having reached some of the goods most at hand, we
commenced, with the natives who came every day to the vessel, a trade
for beaver-skins, and sea-otter stones.
Messrs. Ross and Pillet returned on board on the 1st of April, without
having learned anything respecting Mr. Fox and his party. They did not
even perceive along the beach any vestiges of the boat. The natives who
occupy Point _Adams_, and who are called _Clatsops_, received our young
gentlemen very amicably and hospitably. The captain and his companions
also returned on the 4th, without having decided on a position for the
establishment, finding none which appeared to them eligible. It was
consequently resolved to explore the south bank, and Messrs. M'Dougal
and D. Stuart departed on that expedition the next day, promising to
return by the 7th.
The 7th came, and these gentlemen did not return. It rained almost all
day. The day after, some natives came on board, and reported that
Messrs. M'Dougal and Stuart had capsized the evening before in crossing
the bay. This news at first alarmed us; and, if it had been verified,
would have given the finishing blow to our discouragement. Still, as the
weather was excessively bad, and we did not repose entire faith in the
story of the natives--whom, moreover, we might not have perfectly
understood--we remained in suspense till the 10th. On the morning of
that day, we were preparing to send some of the people in search of our
two gentlemen, when we perceived two large canoes, full of Indians,
coming toward the vessel: they were of the _Chinook_ village, which was
situated at the foot of a bluff on the north side of the river, and were
bringing back Messrs. M'Dougal and Stuart. We made known to these
gentlemen the report we had heard on the 8th from the natives, and they
informed us that it had been in fact well founded; that on the 7th,
desirous of reaching the ship agreeably to their promise, they had
quitted _Chinook_ point, in spite of the remonstrances of the chief,
_Comcomly_, who sought to detain them by pointing out the danger to
which they would expose themselves in crossing the bay in such a heavy
sea as it was; that they had scarcely made more than a mile and a half
before a huge wave broke over their boat and capsized it; that the
Indians, aware of the danger to which they were exposed, had followed
them, and that, but for their assistance, Mr. M'Dougal, who could not
swim, would inevitably have been drowned; that, after the Chinooks had
kindled a large fire and dried their clothes, they had been conducted by
them back to their village, where the principal chief had received them
with all imaginable hospitality, regaling them with every delicacy his
wigwam afforded; that, in fine, if they had got back safe and sound to
the vessel, it was to the timely succor and humane cares of the Indians
whom we saw before us that they owed it. We liberally rewarded these
generous children of the forest, and they returned home well satisfied.
This last survey was also fruitless, as Messrs. M'Dougal and Stuart did
not find an advantageous site to build upon. But, as the captain wished
to take advantage of the fine season to pursue his traffic with the
natives along the N.W. coast, it was resolved to establish ourselves on
Point _George_, situated on the south bank, about fourteen or fifteen
miles from our present anchorage. Accordingly, we embarked on the 12th,
in the long-boat, to the number of twelve, furnished with tools, and
with provisions for a week. We landed at the bottom of a small bay,
where we formed a sort of encampment. The spring, usually so tardy in
this latitude, was already far advanced; the foliage was budding, and
the earth was clothing itself with verdure; the weather was superb, and
all nature smiled. We imagined ourselves in the garden of Eden; the wild
forests seemed to us delightful groves, and the leaves transformed to
brilliant flowers. No doubt, the pleasure of finding ourselves at the
end of our voyage, and liberated from the ship, made things appear to us
a great deal more beautiful than they really were. Be that as it may, we
set ourselves to work with enthusiasm, and cleared, in a few days, a
point of land of its under-brush, and of the huge trunks of pine-trees
that covered it, which we rolled, half-burnt, down the bank. The vessel
came to moor near our encampment, and the trade went on. The natives
visited us constantly and in great numbers; some to trade, others to
gratify their curiosity, or to purloin some little articles if they
found an opportunity. We landed the frame timbers which we had brought,
ready cut for the purpose, in the vessel; and by the end of April, with
the aid of the ship-carpenters, John Weeks and Johann Koaster, we had
laid the keel of a coasting-schooner of about thirty tons.