CHAPTER XIV.

A NEW YEAR.

We were awaked at an early hour by the discharge of a volley of

small-arms to salute the new year. This is the only way of doing honor

to the day which our situation admits; for our only dainties are boiled

elk and wappatoo, enlivened by draughts of water.

Next day, we were visited by the chief, Comowool, and six Clatsops.

Besides roots and berries, they brought for sale three dogs. Having been

so long accustomed to live on the flesh of dogs, the most of us have

acquired a fondness for it; and any objection to it is overcome by

reflecting, that, while we subsisted on that food, we were fatter,

stronger, and in better health, than at any period since leaving the

buffalo country, east of the mountains.

The Indians also brought with them some whale's blubber, which they

obtained, they told us, from their neighbors who live on the sea-coast,

near one of whose villages a whale has recently been thrown and

stranded. It was white, and not unlike the fat of pork, though of a more

porous and spongy texture; and, on being cooked, was found to be tender

and palatable, in flavor resembling the flesh of the beaver.

Two of the five men who were despatched to make salt returned. They had

formed an establishment about fifteen miles south-west of our fort, near

some scattered houses of the Clatsops, where they erected a comfortable

camp, and had killed a stock of provisions. They brought with them a

gallon of the salt of their manufacture, which was white, fine, and very

good. It proves to be a most agreeable addition to our food; and, as

they can make three or four quarts a day, we have a prospect of a

plentiful supply.

THE WHALE.

The appearance of the whale seemed to be a matter of importance to all

the neighboring Indians; and in hopes that we might be able to procure

some of it for ourselves, or at least purchase some from the Indians, a

small parcel of merchandise was prepared, and a party of men got in

readiness to set out in the morning. As soon as this resolution was

known, Chaboneau and his wife requested that they might be permitted to

accompany us. The poor woman urged very earnestly that she had travelled

a great way with us to see the great water, yet she had never been down

to the coast; and, now that this monstrous fish also was to be seen, it

seemed hard that she should not be permitted to see either the ocean or

the whale. So reasonable a request could not be denied: they were

therefore suffered to accompany Capt. Clarke, who next day, after an

early breakfast, set out with twelve men in two canoes.

He proceeded down the river on which we are encamped into Meriwether

Bay; from whence he passed up a creek three miles to some high, open

land, where he found a road. He there left the canoes, and followed the

path over deep marshes to a pond about a mile long. Here they saw a herd

of elk; and the men were divided into small parties, and hunted them

till after dark. Three of the elk were wounded; but night prevented our

taking more than one, which was brought to the camp, and cooked with

some sticks of pine which had drifted down the creeks. The weather was

beautiful, the sky clear, and the moon shone brightly,--a circumstance

the more agreeable, as this is the first fair evening we have enjoyed

for two months.

Thursday, Jan. 2.--There was a frost this morning. We rose early, and

taking eight pounds of flesh, which was all that remained of the elk,

proceeded up the south fork of the creek. At the distance of two miles

we found a pine-tree, which had been felled by one of our salt-makers,

on which we crossed the deepest part of the creek, and waded through the

rest. We then went over an open, ridgy prairie, three-quarters of a mile

to the sea-beach; after following which for three miles, we came to the

mouth of a beautiful river, with a bold, rapid current, eighty-five

yards wide, and three feet deep in its shallowest crossings. On its

north-east side are the remains of an old village of Clatsops, inhabited

by only a single family, who appeared miserably poor and dirty. We gave

the man two fish-hooks to ferry the party over the river, which, from

the tribe on its banks, we called Clatsop River. The creek which we had

passed on a tree approaches this river within about a hundred yards,

and, by means of a portage, supplies a communication with the villages

near Point Adams.

After going on for two miles, we found the salt-makers encamped near

four houses of Clatsops and Killimucks, who, though poor and dirty,

seemed kind and well-disposed. We persuaded a young Indian, by the

present of a file and a promise of some other articles, to guide us to

the spot where the whale lay. He led us for two and a half miles over

the round, slippery stones at the foot of a high hill projecting into

the sea, and then, suddenly stopping, and uttering the word "peshack,"

or bad, explained by signs that we could no longer follow the coast, but

must cross the mountain. This threatened to be a most laborious

undertaking; for the side was nearly perpendicular, and the top lost in

clouds. He, however, followed an Indian path, which wound along, and

favored the ascent as much as possible; but it was so steep, that, at

one place, we were forced to draw ourselves up for about a hundred feet

by means of bushes and roots.

CLARKE'S POINT OF VIEW.

At length, after two hours' labor, we reached the top of the mountain,

where we looked down with astonishment on the height of ten or twelve

hundred feet which we had ascended. We were here met by fourteen Indians

loaded with oil and blubber, the spoils of the whale, which they were

carrying in very heavy burdens over this rough mountain. On leaving

them, we proceeded over a bad road till night, when we encamped on a

small run. We were all much fatigued: but the weather was pleasant;

and, for the first time since our arrival here, an entire day has passed

without rain.

In the morning we set out early, and proceeded to the top of the

mountain, the highest point of which is an open spot facing the ocean.

It is situated about thirty miles south-east of Cape Disappointment, and

projects nearly two and a half miles into the sea. Here one of the most

delightful views imaginable presents itself. Immediately in front is the

ocean, which breaks with fury on the coast, from the rocks of Cape

Disappointment as far as the eye can discern to the north-west, and

against the highlands and irregular piles of rock which diversify the

shore to the south-east. To this boisterous scene, the Columbia, with

its tributary waters, widening into bays as it approaches the ocean, and

studded on both sides with the Chinook and Clatsop villages, forms a

charming contrast; while immediately beneath our feet are stretched rich

prairies, enlivened by three beautiful streams, which conduct the eye to

small lakes at the foot of the hills. We stopped to enjoy the romantic

view from this place, which we distinguished by the name of Clarke's

Point of View, and then followed our guide down the mountain.

THE WHALE.

The descent was steep and dangerous. In many places, the hillsides,

which are formed principally of yellow clay, have been loosened by the

late rains, and are slipping into the sea in large masses of fifty and a

hundred acres. In other parts, the path crosses the rugged,

perpendicular, basaltic rocks which overhang the sea, into which a false

step would have precipitated us.

The mountains are covered with a very thick growth of timber, chiefly

pine and fir; some trees of which, perfectly sound and solid, rise to

the height of two hundred and ten feet, and are from eight to twelve in

diameter. Intermixed is the white cedar, or arbor-vitae, and some trees

of black alder, two or three feet thick, and sixty or seventy in height.

At length we reached the sea-level, and continued for two miles along

the sand-beach, and soon after reached the place where the waves had

thrown the whale on shore. The animal had been placed between two

villages of Killimucks; and such had been their industry, that there now

remained nothing but the skeleton, which we found to be a hundred and

five feet in length. Capt. Clarke named the place Ecola, or Whale

Creek.

The natives were busied in boiling the blubber in a large square trough

of wood by means of heated stones, preserving the oil thus extracted in

bladders and the entrails of the whale. The refuse pieces of the

blubber, which still contained a portion of oil, were hung up in large

flitches, and, when wanted for use, were warmed on a wooden spit before

the fire, and eaten, either alone, or with roots of the rush and

shanatac. The Indians, though they had great quantities, parted with it

very reluctantly, at such high prices, that our whole stock of

merchandise was exhausted in the purchase of about three hundred pounds

of blubber and a few gallons of oil.

Next morning was fine, the wind from the north-east; and, having divided

our stock of the blubber, we began at sunrise to retrace our steps in

order to reach our encampment, which we called Fort Clatsop, thirty-five

miles distant, with as little delay as possible. We met several parties

of Indians on their way to trade for blubber and oil with the

Killimucks: we also overtook a party returning from the village, and

could not but regard with astonishment the heavy loads which the women

carry over these fatiguing and dangerous paths. As one of the women was

descending a steep part of the mountain, her load slipped from her back;

and she stood holding it by a strap with one hand, and with the other

supporting herself by a bush. Capt. Clarke, being near her, undertook to

replace the load, and found it almost as much as he could lift, and

above one hundred pounds in weight. Loaded as they were, they kept pace

with us till we reached the salt-makers' camp, where we passed the

night, while they continued their route.

Next day, we proceeded across Clatsop River to the place where we had

left our canoes, and, as the tide was coming in, immediately embarked

for the fort, at which place we arrived about ten o'clock at night.

DREWYER, THE HUNTER.

Jan. 12, 1806.--Two hunters had been despatched in the morning; and one

of them, Drewyer, had, before evening, killed seven elks. We should

scarcely be able to subsist, were it not for the exertions of this

excellent hunter. The game is scarce; and none is now to be seen except

elk, which, to almost all the men, are very difficult to be procured.

But Drewyer, who is the offspring of a Canadian Frenchman and an Indian

woman, has passed his life in the woods, and unites in a wonderful

degree the dexterous aim of the frontier huntsman with the sagacity of

the Indian in pursuing the faintest tracks through the forest. All our

men have indeed become so expert with the rifle, that, when there is

game of any kind, we are almost certain of procuring it.

Monday, Jan. 13.--Capt. Lewis took all the men who could be spared, and

brought in the seven elk, which they found untouched by the wolves. The

last of the candles which we brought with us being exhausted, we now

began to make others of elk-tallow. We also employed ourselves in

jerking the meat of the elk. We have three of the canoes drawn up out of

the reach of the water, and the other secured by a strong cord, so as to

be ready for use if wanted.

Jan. 16.--To-day we finished curing our meat; and having now a plentiful

supply of elk and salt, and our houses dry and comfortable, we wait

patiently for the moment of resuming our journey.

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