Railroad bridge of the “Oregon Short Line.”
]
But the picture in its grandeur, its wonderful mingling of colors and
distinctness of detail, is forgotten in contemplation of the singular
people who give it life and animation. No other race of men with the
means at their command would undertake so great a journey, none save
these could successfully perform it, with no previous preparation,
relying only on the fertility of their own invention to devise the means
to overcome each danger and difficulty as it arose. They have undertaken
to perform with slow-moving oxen a journey of two thousand miles. The
way lies over trackless wastes, wide and deep rivers, ragged and lofty
mountains, and is beset with hostile savages. Yet, whether it were a
deep river with no tree upon its banks, a rugged defile where even a
loose horse could not pass, a hill too steep for him to climb, or a
threatened attack of an enemy, they are always found ready and equal to
the occasion, and always conquerors. May we not call them men of
destiny? They are people changed in no essential particulars from their
ancestors, who have followed closely on the footsteps of the receding
savage, from the Atlantic seaboard to the great Valley of the
Mississippi.
But while we have been gazing at the picture in the valley, the hunters
have been examining the high plain in the other direction. Some dark
moving objects have been discovered in the distance, and all are closely
watching them to discover what they are, for in the atmosphere of the
plains a flock of crows marching miles away, or a band of buffaloes or
Indians at ten times the distance look alike, and many ludicrous
mistakes occur. But these are buffaloes, for two have struck their heads
together and are, alternately, pushing each other back. The hunters
mount and away in pursuit, and I, a poor cow-driver, must hurry back to
my daily toil, and take a scolding from my fellow herders for so long
playing truant.
The pilot, by measuring the ground and timing the speed of the wagons
and the walk of his horses, has determined the rate of each, so as to
enable him to select the nooning place, as nearly as the requisite grass
and water can be had at the end of five hours’ travel of the wagons.
Today, the ground being favorable, little time has been lost in
preparing the road, so that he and his pioneers are at the nooning place
an hour in advance of the wagons, which time is spent in preparing
convenient watering places for the animals, and digging little wells
near the bank of the Platte, as the teams are not unyoked, but simply
turned loose from the wagons, a corral is not formed at noon, but the
wagons are drawn up in columns, four abreast, the leading wagon of each
platoon on the left, the platoons being formed with that in view. This
brings friends together at noon as well as at night.
[Illustration:
20.—Near summit of Blue Mountains—Meacham Station of O. R. & N. R. R.
on the Trail, and site of “Lee Encampment.”
]
Today an extra session of the council is being held, to settle a dispute
that does not admit of delay, between a proprietor and a young man who
has undertaken to do a man’s service on the journey for bed and board.
Many such engagements exist, and much interest is taken in the manner in
which this high court, from which there is no appeal, will define the
rights of each party in such engagements. The council was a high court
in the most exalted sense. It was a senate composed of the ablest and
most respected fathers of the emigration. It exercised both legislative
and judicial powers, and its laws and decisions proved it equal and
worthy of the high trust reposed in it. Its sessions were usually held
on days when the caravan was not moving. It first took the state of the
little commonwealth into consideration; revised or repealed rules
defective or obsolete, and enacted such others as the exigencies seemed
to require. The common weal being cared for, it next resolved itself
into a court to hear and settle private disputes and grievances. The
offender and the aggrieved appeared before it; witnesses were examined,
and the parties were heard by themselves and sometimes by counsel. The
judges being thus made fully acquainted with the case, and being in no
way influenced or cramped by technicalities, decided all cases according
to their merits. There was but little use for lawyers before this court,
for no plea was entertained which was calculated to hinder or defeat the
ends of justice. Many of these judges have since won honors in higher
spheres. They have aided to establish on the broad basis of right and
universal liberty two pillars of our great Republic in the Occident.
Some of the young men who appeared before them as advocates have
themselves sat upon the highest judicial tribunals, commanded armies,
been governors of states and taken high position in the senate of the
nation.
It is now one o’clock; the bugle has sounded and the caravan has resumed
its westward journey. It is in the same order, but the evening is far
less animated than the morning march; a drowsiness has fallen apparently
on man and beast; teamsters drop asleep on their perches and even when
walking by their teams, and the words of command are now addressed to
the slowly creeping oxen in the soft tenor of women or the piping treble
of children, while the snores of the teamsters make a droning
accompaniment. But a little incident breaks the monotony of the march.
An emigrant’s wife, whose state of health has caused Doctor Whitman to
travel near the wagon for the day, is now taken with violent illness.
The Doctor has had the wagon driven out of the line, a tent pitched and
a fire kindled. Many conjectures are hazarded in regard to this
mysterious proceeding, and as to why this lone wagon is to be left
behind. And we too must leave it, hasten to the front and note the
proceedings, for the sun is now getting low in the west and at length
the painstaking pilot is standing ready to conduct the train in the
circle which he has previously measured and marked out, which is to form
the invariable fortification for the night. The leading wagons follow
him so nearly around the circle that but a wagon length separates them.
Each wagon follows in its track, the rear closing on the front, until
its tongue and ox chains will perfectly reach from one to the other, and
so accurate the measure and perfect the practice, that the hindmost
wagon of the train always precisely closes the gateway, as each wagon is
brought into position. It is dropped from its team (the teams being
inside the circle), the team unyoked and the yokes and chains are used
to connect the wagon strongly with that in its front. Within ten minutes
from the time the leading wagon halted, the barricade is formed, the
teams unyoked and driven out to pasture. Every one is busy preparing
fires of buffalo chips to cook the evening meal, pitching tents and
otherwise preparing for the night. There are anxious watchers for the
absent wagon, for there are many matrons who may be afflicted like its
inmate before the journey is over; and they fear the strange and
startling practice of this Oregon doctor will be dangerous. But as the
sun goes down the absent wagon rolls into camp, the bright, speaking
face and cheery look of the doctor, who rides in advance, declare
without words that all is well, and both mother and child are
comfortable. I would fain now and here pay a passing tribute to that
noble and devoted man, Doctor Whitman. I will obtrude no other name upon
the reader, nor would I his were he of our party or even living, but his
stay with us was transient, though the good he did was permanent, and he
has long since died at his post.
[Illustration:
21.—Falls of the Willamette—the objective point of the pioneers.
]
From the time he joined us on the Platte until he left us at Fort Hall,
his great experience and indomitable energy were of priceless value to
the migrating column. His constant advice, which we knew was based upon
a knowledge of the road before us, was, “Travel, _travel_, TRAVEL;
nothing else will take you to the end of your journey; nothing is wise
that does not help you along; nothing is good for you that causes a
moment’s delay.” His great authority as a physician and complete success
in the case above referred to, saved us many prolonged and perhaps
ruinous delays from similar causes, and it is no disparagement to others
to say that to no other individual are the emigrants of 1843 so much
indebted for the successful conclusion of their journey as to Dr. Marcus
Whitman.
All able to bear arms in the party have been formed into three
companies, and each of these into four watches; every third night it is
the duty of one of these companies to keep watch and ward over the camp,
and it is so arranged that each watch takes its turn of guard duty
through the different watches of the night. Those forming the first
watch tonight will be second on duty, then third and fourth, which
brings them through all the watches of the night. They begin at 8
o’clock P. M., and end at 4 o’clock A. M.
It is not yet 8 o’clock when the first watch is to be set; the evening
meal is just over, and the corral now free from the intrusion of cattle
or horses, groups of children are scattered over it. The larger are
taking a game of romps; “the wee toddling things” are being taught that
great achievement that distinguishes man from the lower animals. Before
a tent near the river a violin makes lively music, and some youths and
maidens have improvised a dance upon the green; in another quarter a
flute gives its mellow and melancholy notes to the still night air,
which, as they float away over the quiet river, seem a lament for the
past rather than a hope for the future. It has been a prosperous day;
more than twenty miles have been accomplished of the great journey. The
encampment is a good one; one of the causes that threatened much future
delay has just been removed by the skill and energy of that “good angel”
of the emigrants, Doctor Whitman, and it has lifted a load from the
hearts of the elders. Many of these are assembled around the good doctor
at the tent of the pilot (which is his home for the time being), and are
giving grave attention to his wise and energetic counsel. The care-worn
pilot sits aloof, quietly smoking his pipe, for he knows the brave
doctor is “strengthening his hands.”
[Illustration:
22.—The Union Pacific Building, Omaha,—site of one of the “jumping
off” points for Oregon.
]
But time passes; the watch is set for the night; the council of old men
has been broken up, and each has returned to his own quarter; the flute
has whispered its last lament to the deepening night; the violin is
silent, and the dancers have dispersed; enamored youth have whispered a
tender “good night” in the ear of blushing maidens, or stolen a kiss
from the lips of some future bride—for Cupid here, as elsewhere, has
been busy bringing together congenial hearts, and among these simple
people he alone is consulted in forming the marriage tie. Even the
doctor and the pilot have finished their confidential interview and have
separated for the night. All is hushed and repose from the fatigues of
the day, save the vigilant guard and the wakeful leader, who still has
cares upon his mind that forbid sleep. He hears the 10 o’clock relief
taking post and the “all well” report of the returned guard; the night
deepens, yet he seeks not the needed repose. At length a sentinel
hurries to him with the welcome report that a party is approaching—as
yet too far away for its character to be determined, and he instantly
hurries out in the direction in which it was seen. This he does both
from inclination and duty, for in times past the camp had been
unnecessarily alarmed by timid or inexperienced sentinels, causing much
confusion and fright amongst women and children, and it had been a rule
that all extraordinary incidents of the night should be reported
directly to the pilot, who alone had the authority to call out the
military strength of the column, or of so much of it as was in his
judgment necessary to prevent a stampede or repel an enemy. Tonight he
is at no loss to determine that the approaching party are our missing
hunters, and that they have met with success, and he only waits until by
some further signal he can know that no ill has happened to them. This
is not long wanting. He does not even await their arrival, but the last
care of the day being removed, and the last duty performed, he too seeks
the rest that will enable him to go through the same routine tomorrow.
But here I leave him, for my task is also done, and unlike his, it is to
be repeated no more.
NOTE—A CORRECTION—Col. George B. Currey was the author of “The Tribute
to the Ox Whip,” not Col. George L. Curry, as printed in this number.