Carver was not ignorant of the great danger involved in such an

undertaking, where he was obliged to intrust his life to the mercy of

unknown Indians for a prolonged time. Indeed, considering his

experiences at the massacre of Englishmen and provincials at Fort Henry,

it seems surprising that he would ever trust a savage or a Frenchman. In

the campaign of 1757, Carver volunteered to accompany the detachment of

fifteen hundred men which General Webb sent forward to reinforce the

garrison at Fort Henry, then anticipating an attack from Montcalm. The

garrison, commanded by the gallant Monro, who resisted until his guns

burst and his ammunition was nearly exhausted, surrendered to the

combined force of Indians and French under Montcalm, who promised safe

conduct and private property. As the English force moved out the next

morning the Indians, inflamed by liquor, song, and dance, butchered the

sick and wounded and then fell upon the helpless captives, of whom there

were, according to French accounts, about sixty killed and four hundred

robbed and maltreated. Montcalm and Levi, to their credit, though too

late, made heroic personal efforts which mitigated the horrors of the

situation.

[Illustration: Indian Tomahawk. (From Carver's Book.)]

Among the unfortunates was Carver, who, robbed and stripped by the

savages, appealed to a French sentry for protection only to be repelled

with abuse. Realizing finally that to remain quiet was to meet certain

death, Carver and a few others attempted to escape by breaking unarmed

through the surrounding lines of Indian fiends. In this desperate effort

for life Carver was twice wounded, badly beaten, seized by two Indians,

and led away to death, which he escaped by the appearance of a British

officer in full uniform, who was such a prize that his captors left

Carver to secure a more valuable victim. Profiting by the respite Carver

fled to the nearest woods, where, exhausted and nearly naked, he

concealed himself in a thicket until night. For three days he wandered

through the densest part of the forest, suffering tortures from travel

under such conditions, often in danger of recapture, and without food

until he reached, in a nearly exhausted condition, the English

settlements.

An attempt at transcontinental exploration was then looked on as

foolhardy and visionary in the extreme, even to those friends of Carver

who never deserted him. One of these, Dr. Lettsom, wrote in the third

edition of Carver's travels, fifteen years after the journey, as

follows: "He suggested an attempt by land across the northwest parts of

America, and actually drew a chart of his proposed route for effecting

his project, which, however visionary it may now be deemed, affords at

least a proof of the enterprising spirit of Carver."

Unmoved by the sneers of his critics, and undeterred by recollections of

Indian cruelty and perfidy, Carver arranged the details of his journey

at his private expense, and in June, 1766, he quitted Boston, and

travelling by the way of Albany and Niagara reached his headquarters,

Michillimackinac, now known as Mackinac. Here he made definite

arrangements for his serious work of exploration. At this time English

traders extended their journeys to Prairie-du-Chien for the purpose of

purchasing furs from Indians rendezvousing there, and with one of these

parties Carver was to travel, relying on the Governor of Mackinaw to

forward supplies to St. Anthony. Leaving the Fort, September 3d, and

travelling by canoe, he reached the islands of the Grand Traverse, and

there spent one night. One of the chiefs, to whom a present was given,

made, on Carver's departure, the following prayer, which is worthy of

reproduction as a specimen of Indian eloquence: "May the Great Spirit

favor you with a prosperous voyage; may He give you an unclouded sky and

smooth waters by day, and may you lay down by night on a beaver blanket

to uninterrupted sleep and pleasant dreams, and may you find continual

protection under the calumet of peace."

Carver followed the route of Joliet and Marquette through Green Bay and

up Fox River to the great town of the Winnebagoes, where he found the

Indians presided over by a queen instead of a sachem. Carver speaks of

the extreme richness of soil and abundance of cultivated products and

wild game, mentioning grapes, plums, Indian corn, beans, pumpkins,

squashes, watermelons, and tobacco from cultivation; fish from the lake;

wild fowl so abundant that frequently the sun would be obscured by them

for some minutes together, while deer, bears, and beavers were very

numerous. The usual portage was made by him from the Fox to the

Wisconsin River, into which his canoes were launched on the 8th of

October. Seven days carried him to Prairie-du-Chien, at the junction of

the Wisconsin and Mississippi, which was at that time a town of some

three hundred families and had become a great trading mart for the

adjacent tribes, who assembled in great numbers annually in the latter

part of May.

[Illustration: _The falls of_ St. Anthony _in the River_ MISSISSIPPI,

_near 2400 Miles from its entrance into the Gulf of Mexico._ (From

Carver's Book.)]

At Prairie-du-Chien Carver parted with the traders, who were to winter

at that point, and obtaining a Canadian as interpreter and a Mohawk

Indian as a servant, he purchased a canoe, and on October 19th,

proceeding up the Mississippi, he fell in with a straggling band of

Indians which barely failed of plundering him. November 1st brought him

to Lake Pepin, near which he discovered what appeared to be the remains

of extended intrenchments, centuries old, as he thought, but which are

now known to be Indian mounds, probably erected as sites for their

wigwams, so as to keep them above the annual overflow and inundation.

The coming of winter and the forming of river ice obliged him to quit

his canoe opposite the mouth of the St. Peter, or Minnesota River,

whence by land he reached the Falls of St. Anthony on November 17, 1766,

probably the first white American to visit them.

The noise and appearance of the Falls of St. Anthony impressed Carver

very strongly, and his account of them is worthy of reproduction in view

of the changes that have taken place within the past one hundred and

thirty years:

"This amazing body of waters, which are above 250 yards over, form a

most pleasing cataract; they fall perpendicularly about thirty feet, and

the rapids below, in the space of 300 yards more, render the descent

considerably greater; so that when viewed at a distance, they appear to

be much higher than they really are.

"In the middle of the Falls stands a small island about forty feet

broad and somewhat longer, on which grow a few cragged hemlock and

spruce trees; and about half way between this island and the eastern

shore is a rock lying at the very edge of the Fall, in an oblique

position, that appears to be about five or six feet broad and thirty or

forty long."

Leaving the falls, Carver proceeded up the Mississippi to the mouth of

the St. Francis, the farthest of Hennepin in 1680, discovering on the

way Rum and Goose Rivers. Warned by the severity of the cold that winter

was fast coming on, Carver returned to his canoe at the mouth of the

Minnesota River and decided to explore that stream, of which only the

lower portion had ever been visited--by Le Sueur in 1700.

Following the Minnesota about two hundred miles he reached, on December

7th, the winter camp of a large tribe of Indians, about one thousand in

number, who were designated by Carver as the Naudowessie (Santees).

Advancing boldly, with his calumet of peace fastened to the prow of his

canoe, he was received in a friendly manner. After the usual smoking of

the pipe of peace, during which he says the tent was nearly broken down

by the crowd of savages, who, as a rule, had never seen a white man, he

was treated with great respect.

Among these Indians Carver passed the winter, filling in his five

months' stay by hunting and other Indian amusements. From the Indians he

learned that the St. Lawrence, the Mississippi, and the Bourbon (the Red

River of the North) had their sources within thirty miles of each

other. This led to the natural but erroneous opinion that Carver had

reached the highest land of North America, when in reality he was at an

elevation of only twelve hundred feet.

Carver also spoke of "the Oregon, or the River of the West," as having

its sources somewhat farther to the west. This is the first time that

the word Oregon appears in literature, and Carver gives no account of

its meaning.

[Illustration: A Calumet. (From Carver's Book.)]

The Indians had traditions as to the extreme plentifulness of gold to

the west of the "Shining Mountains," of which our explorer says, on the

strength of Indian reports:

"The mountains that lie to the west of St. Peter are called the Shining

Mountains, from an infinite number of crystal stones of an amazing size

with which they are covered and which, when the sun shines full upon

them, sparkle so as to be seen at a very great distance."

Carver's enthusiasm and interest in the West led him to make the

following striking prediction, which time has fully justified. He says:

"This extraordinary range of mountains is calculated to be more than

three thousand miles in length, without any very considerable intervals,

which, I believe, surpasses anything of the kind in the other quarters

of the globe. Probably, in future ages, they may be found to contain

more riches in their bowels than those of Hindostan and Malabar, or than

are produced on the golden coast of Guinea, nor will I except even the

Peruvian mines. To the west of these mountains, when explored by future

Columbuses or Raleighs, may be found other lakes, rivers, and countries,

full fraught with all the necessaries or luxuries of life, and where

future generations may find an asylum, whether driven from their country

by the ravages of lawless tyrants, or by religious persecutions, or

reluctantly leaving it to remedy the inconveniences arising from a

superabundant increase of inhabitants; whether, I say, impelled by these

or allured by hopes of commercial advantages, there is little doubt but

their expectations will be fully gratified in these rich and unexhausted

climes."

Carver described the valley of the Minnesota as a most delightful

country, abounding with all the necessities of life, which grow

spontaneously. Fruit, vegetables, and nuts were represented as being

particularly abundant, and the sugar-maple grew in amazing numbers.

In April, 1767, the Santees descended the Minnesota in order, among

other things, to bury their dead near a remarkable cave on Lake Pepin,

known to the Indians as the "dwelling of the Great Spirit."

Finding that supplies had not been sent to the Falls of St. Anthony,

Carver returned to Prairie-du-Chien in order to get sufficient stores to

enable him to reach Lake Superior, whence he hoped to be able to cross

the continent from Grand Portage. Obtaining such supplies, he proceeded

up the Mississippi to the Chippeway River, and, after ascending to its

head, made portages to the St. Croix, and reached Lake Superior,

possibly by the river now known as the Bois Brule.

From this point Carver, in his canoe, skirted the coast of Lake Superior

to the Grand Portage, where he awaited the arrival of the Hudson Bay or

northern traders, from whom he anxiously hoped to obtain supplies that

would enable him to journey west; but he was destined to disappointment,

as nothing could be obtained from them. Carver coasted around the north

and east borders of Lake Superior, and arrived at the Falls of Ste.

Marie the beginning of October, having skirted nearly twelve hundred

miles of the shores of Lake Superior in a birch canoe.

The Sault Ste. Marie was then the resort of the Algonquin Indians, who

frequented the falls on account of the great numbers of whitefish that

filled the waters, particularly in the autumn, when that fish leaves

the lakes in order to spawn in shallow running waters.

In November, 1767, Carver arrived at Mackinac, having, as he says, "been

sixteen months on this extensive tour, travelled nearly four thousand

miles, and visited twelve nations of Indians living to the west and

north. His picture of Detroit on his return, in 1768, is of

retrospective interest.

"The town of Detroit contains upward of one hundred houses. The streets

are somewhat regular, and have a range of very convenient and handsome

barracks with a spacious parade at the south end. On the west side lies

the King's Garden, belonging to the Governor, which is very well laid

out, and kept in good order. The fortifications of the town consist of a

strong stockade, made of round piles, fixed firmly in the ground, and

lined with palisades. These are defended by some small bastions, on

which are mounted a few indifferent cannon of an inconsiderable size,

just sufficient for its defence against the Indians or an enemy not

provided with artillery. The garrison in time of peace consists of two

hundred men, commanded by a field-officer, who acts as chief magistrate

under the Governor of Canada.

"In the year 1762, in the month of July, it rained on this town and the

parts adjacent a sulphurous water of the color and consistency of ink,

some of which being collected in bottles, and wrote with, appeared

perfectly intelligible on the paper, and answered every purpose for

that useful liquid. Soon after, the Indian wars already spoken of broke

out in these parts. I mean not to say that this incident was ominous of

them, notwithstanding it is well known that innumerable well-attested

instances of extraordinary phenomena, happening before extraordinary

events, have been recorded in almost every age by historians of

veracity; I only relate the circumstance as a fact, of which I was

informed by many persons of undoubted probity, and leave my readers, as

I have heretofore done, to draw their own conclusions from it."

It is beyond question that certain chapters of Carver's work,

supplementary to his account of his personal explorations, and

especially devoted to Indians and to the natural history of the

Northwest, are practically translations of the accounts of Charlevoix,

Hennepin, and particularly of Lahontan. It does not appear from the

first part of the work that Carver was a man endowed with those powers

of observation and assimilation which are essential traits for the

successful traveller and author.

When the brief recital of his personal travels is examined, it seems

difficult to determine on what grounds his truthfulness has been

questioned by a few hostile critics. His story is simple and

straightforward, devoid of boastfulness, free from any exaggeration as

to his personal prowess, and the statement that he passed a winter of

five months in the valley of the Upper Minnesota is, in my opinion,

worthy of entire credence.

Fortunately, however, evidence of the most convincing character exists

as to Carver's residence among the Naudowessies or Santees. The

exhaustive bibliography of the Siouan languages, by Mr. James C.

Pilling, indicates that Carver is the first author who ever published a

vocabulary of the Santee tongue, and its length, eight pages, renders it

evident that it was an original compilation which must have required

considerable time and patience.

[Illustration: Naudowessie Indians.

Carver's drawing of "A man and woman of the Naudowessie," herewith

reproduced, if somewhat fanciful in its details, must be considered of

historical value as indicating in the main the costumes of the Santees

when first visited by the whites.]

The importance of Carver's charts and journals at that time was evident

to the Lords Commissioners of Trade and Plantations in England to whom

Carver was referred when praying for reimbursement of his expenses.

Carver appeared before the Board and, after an examination, was granted

authority to publish his papers. Later, after Carver had, as he says,

disposed of them and they were nearly ready for the press, an order was

issued from the Council Board requiring him to immediately turn in all

the originals of his charts, journals, and other papers relative to his

discoveries.

Meanwhile interest in the extension of English influence into the

interior of North America was waning steadily with the growing

conviction that the colonies would establish their independence, and the

Government had no mind to reimburse an enterprising American, even

though he remained loyal. Carver was reduced gradually to the greatest

straits, was compelled to sell his book for a pittance, and finally, his

end hastened by lack of proper food and suitable attendance, died in the

direst poverty in London, January 13, 1780.

His own generation could best judge as to the timeliness and importance

of Carver's exploration, and as to the value of the information set

forth in his book of travels. Suffice it to say that no less than

twenty-three editions of this book have appeared, in four languages.

This, too, at a time when the war of independence naturally destroyed

current interest in the extension of English settlements in the interior

of North America.

Explorations, however, are wisely esteemed by posterity according to the

results which flow therefrom in the shape of definite additions to the

knowledge of the world or in the more important direction of disclosing

lands suitable for colonization. In this latter manner the exploration

of Jonathan Carver and the accounts of his travels had an important

influence. They first brought into popular and accessible form

information and ideas concerning the interior parts of North America

which before had been practically inaccessible to the general public of

England and America.

Twenty-five years after this journey toward the "Shining Mountains" and

"Oregon, the River of the West," the ultimate scheme of Carver found its

justification in the success of Alexander Mackenzie, a young Scotchman,

who was the first white man to cross the continent of America to the

north of Mexico; and yet ten years later Lewis and Clark were despatched

on their famous expedition which explored the valley of the Columbia,

where in 1810, under the energetic management of John Jacob Astor, arose

the trading-post of Astoria, thus turning into reality the dreams and

aspirations of Jonathan Carver, the soldier and explorer.

IV.

CAPTAIN ROBERT GRAY,

THE DISCOVERER OF THE COLUMBIA RIVER.

Within the past century no American explorer has contributed more

materially to the welfare of the United States and to its maritime glory

than Captain Robert Gray, the discoverer of the Columbia River and the

first circumnavigator who carried the flag of the United States around

the world.

Robert Gray was born at Tiverton, R. I., in May, 1757, and in early

youth, inspired with the spirit of independence which dominated the

American Colonies, entered the naval service during the war of the

Revolution, wherein he served with credit as an officer.

At the termination of the war it is probable that he continued his

natural or acquired vocation as a seaman. At all events, we find him

first and foremost among that band of American citizens whose courage,

energy, and nautical skill enabled them to attain unsurpassed success as

whalers and sealers in the Antarctic Ocean, as traders dealing direct

with China, or as explorers and fur dealers on the unsurveyed and

dangerous coast of northwest America.

In 1787, J. Barrell, S. Brown, C. Bulfinch, J. Darby, C. Hatch, and J,

M. Pintard, merchants of Boston, associated for the purpose of combining

the fur traffic of the northwest coast of America with the silk and tea

trade of China. For this purpose they sent, under the command of Captain

John Kendrick, in 1787, the ship Columbia and the sloop Washington with

cargoes of blankets, knives, iron bars, and other articles suitable for

the northwest trade. They were provided with sea letters issued

according to a resolution of Congress, with passports from the State of

Massachusetts, and with commendatory letters from the Spanish minister

plenipotentiary to the United States.

Captain Kendrick, who commanded the Columbia, was a man of marked

ability and great energy, who withal had most enthusiastic opinions as

to the future of the Pacific Coast region, which he believed would in a

few years utterly dwarf the growing importance of the Atlantic seaboard.

Gray was the master of the Washington, and his professional standing in

the eyes of the merchants of Boston was shown by his designation as the

most desirable officer to assume command in case of death or injury to

Captain Kendrick.

Many aspersions have been cast by English writers on the policy pursued

and methods followed by Americans engaged in trading with the Indians of

the northwest coast of America. Doubtless such reflections were

justified in individual cases of Americans, as of traders of other

nationality; but the instructions given by the merchants of Boston to

Kendrick and Gray show that fair, honest, and peaceful methods were

regarded as the true means of establishing a permanent and profitable

trade. Among other injunctions were the following:

"If you make any fort or any improvement of land on the coast, be sure

you purchase the soil of the natives.... Let the instrument of

conveyance bear every authentic mark that circumstances will admit....

We cannot forbear to impress on your mind our will and expectation that

the most inviolable harmony and friendship may subsist between you and

the natives, and that no advantage may be taken of them in trading, but

that you endeavor by honest conduct to impress on their minds a

friendship for Americans." While enjoining peace, it was not to be a

peace on any terms, for thus runs the instructions: "The sea letters

from Congress and this State you will show on every proper occasion, and

although we expect you will treat all nations with respect and civility,

yet we depend you will suffer insult and injury from none without

showing that spirit which becomes a free and independent American."

The vessels sailed from Boston September 30, 1787, via the Cape Verde

and Faulkland Islands, and in January doubled Cape Horn, when they

thought the perils of storm were past. In latitude 59° S., however, a

violent gale arose, which not only separated them, but also seriously

damaged the Columbia. The storm over, Kendrick found himself in a sad

plight, his consort gone, perhaps lost, his ship in an unseaworthy

condition, and the nearest spot for repairs a thousand miles distant.

This port, that of the island of Juan Fernandez, if now famous and

delightful to the adventurous mind through its associations with the

fascinating tale of Robinson Crusoe, was then most objectionable from

the fact that it was under Spanish rule and so was to be avoided by

Kendrick, whose instructions ran as follows:

"You are strictly enjoined not to touch at any port of the Spanish

dominion on the western continent of America, unless driven there by

unavoidable accident, in which case you are to give no offence to any of

the subjects of his Catholic Majesty."

Kendrick, to his surprise, was received with great kindness and aided in

repairing his injured vessel by Don Blas Gonzales, the humane commandant

of the Spanish garrison of Juan Fernandez.

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