The author of the following, "poem" was not either a dull or an
unobservant writer; and we insert his verses as a comical bit of natural
history belonging peculiarly to Oregon.
ADVENTURES OF A COLUMBIA SALMON.
What is yon object which attracts the eye
Of the observing traveler, who ascends
Columbia's waters, when the summer sky
In one soft tint, calm nature's clothing blends:
As glittering in the sunbeams down it floats
'Till some vile vulture on its carcase gloats?
'Tis a poor salmon, which a short time past,
With thousands of her finny sisters came,
By instinct taught, to seek and find at last,
The place that gave her birth, there to remain
'Till nature's offices had been discharged,
And fry from out the ova had emerged.
Her Winter spent amongst the sheltered bays
Of the salt sea, where numerous fish of prey,
With appetite keen, the number of her days
Would soon have put an end to, could but they
Have caught her; but as they could not, she,
Spring having come, resolved to quit the sea:
And moving with the shoal along the coast, at length
She reached the outlet of her native river,
There tarried for a little to recruit her strength,
So tried of late by cold and stormy weather;
Sporting in playful gambols o'er the banks and sands,
Chasing the tiny fish frequenting there in bands.
But ah, how little thought this simple fish,
The toils and perils she had yet to suffer,
The chance she ran of serving as a dish
For hungry white men or for Indian's supper,--
Of enemies in which the stream abounded,
When lo! she's by a fisher's net surrounded.
Partly conscious of her approaching end,
She darts with meteoric swiftness to and fro,
Striking the frail meshes, within which she's penned,
Which bid defiance to her stoutest blow:
To smaller compass by degrees the snare is drawn,
When with a leap she clears it and is gone.
Once more at large with her companions, now
Become more cautious from her late escape,
She keeps in deeper water and thinks how
Foolish she was to get in such a scrape;
As mounting further up the stream, she vies
With other fish in catching gnats and flies.
And as she on her way did thus enjoy
Life's fleeting moments, there arose a panic
Amongst the stragglers, who in haste deploy
Around their elder leaders, quick as magic,
While she unconscious of the untimely rout,
Was by a hungry otter singled out:
Vigorous was the chase, on the marked victim shot
Through the clear water, while in close pursuit
Followed her amphibious foe, who scarce had got
Near enough to grasp her, when with turns acute,
And leaps and revolutions, she so tried the otter,
He gave up the hunt with merely having bit her.
Scarce had she recovered from her weakness, when
An ancient eagle, of the bald-head kind,
Winging his dreary way to'rds some lone glen,
Where was her nest with four plump eaglets lined,
Espied the fish, which he judged quite a treat,
And just the morsel for his little ones to eat:
And sailing in spiral circles o'er the spot,
Where lay his prey, then hovering for a time,
To take his wary aim, he stooped and caught
His booty, which he carried to a lofty pine;
Upon whose topmost branches, he first adjusted
His awkward load, ere with his claws he crushed it.
"Ill is the wind that blows no person good"--
So said the adage, and as luck would have it,
A huge grey eagle out in search of food,
Who just had whet his hunger with a rabbit,
Attacked the other, and the pair together,
In deadly combat fell into the river.
Our friend of course made off, when she'd done falling
Some sixty yards, and well indeed she might;
For ne'er, perhaps, a fish got such a mauling
Since Adam's time, or went up such a height
Into the air, and came down helter-skelter,
As did this poor production of a melter.
All these, with many other dangers, she survived,
Too manifold in this short space to mention;
So we'll suppose her to have now arrived
Safe at _the Falls_, without much more detention
Than one could look for, where so many liked her
Company, and so many Indians spiked her.
And here a mighty barrier stops her way:
The tranquil water, finding in its course
Itself beset with rising rocks, which lay
As though they said, "retire ye to your source,"
Bursts with indignant fury from its bondage, now
Rushes in foaming torrents to the chasm below.
The persevering fish then at the foot arrives,
Laboring with redoubled vigor mid the surging tide,
And finding, by her strength, she vainly strives
To overcome the flood, though o'er and o'er she tried;
Her tail takes in her mouth, and bending like a bow
That's to full compass drawn, aloft herself doth throw;
And spinning in the air, as would a silver wand
That's bended end to end and upwards cast,
Headlong she falls amid the showering waters, and
Gasping for breath, against the rocks is dashed:
Again, again she vaults, again she tries,
And in one last and feeble effort--dies.
There was, in Oregon City, a literary society called the "Falls
Association," some of whose effusions were occasionally sent to the
_Spectator_, and this may have been one of them. At all events, it is
plain that with balls, theatres, literary societies, and politics, the
colony was not afflicted with dullness, in the winter of 1846.
But the history of the immigration this year, afforded, perhaps, more
material for talk than any one other subject. The condition in which the
immigrants arrived was one of great distress. A new road into the valley
had been that season explored, at great labor and expense, by a company
of gentlemen who had in view the aim to lessen the perils usually
encountered in descending the Columbia. They believed that a better pass
might be discovered through the Cascade range to the south, than that
which had been found around the base of Mount Hood, and one which should
bring the immigrants in at the upper end of the valley, thus saving them
considerable travel and loss of time at a season of the year when the
weather was apt to be unsettled.
With this design, a party had set out to explore the Cascades to the
south, quite early in the spring; but failing in their undertaking, had
returned. Another company was then immediately formed, headed by a
prominent member of society and the legislature. This company followed
the old Hudson's Bay Company's trail, crossing all those ranges of
mountains perpendicular to the coast, which form a triple wall between
Oregon and California, until they came out into the valley of the
Humboldt, whence they proceeded along a nearly level, but chiefly barren
country to Fort Hall, on the Snake River.
The route was found to be practicable, although there was a scarcity of
grass and water along a portion of it; but as the explorers had with
great difficulty found out and marked all the best camping grounds, and
encountered first for themselves all the dangers of a hitherto
unexplored region, most of which they believed they had overcome, they
felt no hesitation in recommending the new road to the emigrants whom
they met at Fort Hall.
Being aware of the hardships which the immigrants of the previous years
had undergone on the Snake River plains, at the crossing of Snake River,
the John Day, and Des Chutes Rivers, and the passage of the Columbia,
the travelers gladly accepted the tidings of a safer route to the
Wallamet. A portion of the immigration had already gone on by the road
to the Dalles; the remainder turned off by the southern route.
Of those who took the new route, a part were destined for California.
All, however, after passing through the sage deserts, committed the
error of stopping to recruit their cattle and horses in the fresh green
valleys among the foot-hills of the mountains. It did not occur to them
that they were wasting precious time in this way; but to this indulgence
was owing an incredible amount of suffering. The California-bound
travelers encountered the season of snow on the Sierras, and such
horrors are recorded of their sufferings as it is seldom the task of
ears to hear or pen to record. Snow-bound, without food, those who died
of starvation were consumed by the living; even children were eaten by
their once fond parents, with an indifference horrible to think on: so
does the mind become degraded by great physical suffering.
The Oregon immigrants had not to cross the lofty Sierras; but they still
found mountains before them which, in the dry season, would have been
formidable enough. Instead, however, of the dry weather continuing, very
heavy rains set in. The streams became swollen, the mountain sides heavy
and slippery with the wet earth. Where the road led through canyons, men
and women were sometimes forced to stem a torrent, breast high, and cold
enough to chill the life in their veins. The cattle gave out, the
wagons broke down, provisions became exhausted, and a few persons
perished, while all were in the direst straits.
The first who got through into the valley sent relief to those behind;
but it was weeks before the last of the worn, weary, and now
impoverished travelers escaped from the horrors of the mountains in
which they were so hopelessly entangled, and where most of their worldly
goods were left to rot.
The Oregon legislature met as usual, to hold its winter session, though
the people hoped and expected it would be for the last time under the
Provisional Government. There were only two "mountain-men" in the House,
at this session--Meek and Newell.
In the suspense under which they for the present remained, there was
nothing to do but to go on in the path of duty as they had heretofore
done, keeping up their present form of government until it was
supplanted by a better one. So passed the summer until the return of the
"Glorious Fourth," which, being the first national anniversary occurring
since the news of the treaty had reached the colony, was celebrated with
proper enthusiasm.
It chanced that an American ship, the _Brutus_, Capt. Adams, from
Boston, was lying in the Wallamet, and that a general invitation had
been given to the celebrationists to visit the ship during the day. A
party of fifty or sixty, including Meek and some of his mountain
associates, had made their calculations to go on board at the same time,
and were in fact already alongside in boats, when Captain Adams singled
out a boat load of people belonging to the mission clique, and inviting
them to come on board, ordered all the others off.
This was an insult too great to be borne by mountain-men, who resented
it not only for themselves, but for the people's party of Americans to
which they naturally belonged. Their blood was up, and without stopping
to deliberate, Meek and Newell hurried off to fetch the twelve-pounder
that had a few hours before served to thunder forth the rejoicings of a
free people, but with which they now purposed to proclaim their
indignation as freeman heinously insulted. The little twelve-pound
cannon was loaded with rock, and got into range with the offending ship,
and there is little doubt that Capt. Adams would have suffered loss at
the hands of the incensed multitude, but for the timely interference of
Dr. McLaughlin. On being informed of the warlike intentions of Meek and
his associates, the good Doctor came running to the rescue, his white
hair flowing back from his noble face with the hurry of his movements.
"Oh, oh, Mr. Joe, Mr. Joe, you must not do this! indeed, you must not do
this foolish thing! Come now; come away. You will injure your country,
Mr. Joe. How can you expect that ships will come here, if they are fired
on? Come away, come away!"
And Meek, ever full of waggishness, even in his wrath, replied:
"Doctor, it is not that I love the Brutus less, but my dignity more."
"Oh, Shakespeare, Mr. Joe! But come with me; come with me."
And so the good Doctor, half in authority, half in kindness, persuaded
the resentful colonists to pass by the favoritism of the Boston captain.
Meek was reelected to the legislature this summer, and swam out to a
vessel lying down at the mouth of the Wallamet, to get liquor to treat
his constituents; from which circumstance it may be inferred that while
Oregon was remarkable for temperance, there were occasions on which
conviviality was deemed justifiable by a portion of her people.
Thus passed the summer. The autumn brought news of a large emigration
_en route_ for the new territory; but it brought no news of good import
from Congress. On the contrary the bill providing for a territorial
government for Oregon had failed, because the Organic Laws of that
territory excluded slavery forever from the country. The history of its
failure is a part and parcel of the record of the long hard struggle of
the south to extend slavery into the United States' territories.
Justly dissatisfied, but not inconsolable, the colony, now that hope was
extinguished for another season, returned to its own affairs. The
immigration, which had arrived early this year, amounted to between four
and five thousand. An unfortunate affray between the immigrants and the
Indians at the Dalles, had frightened away from that station the Rev.
Father Waller; and Dr. Whitman of the Waiilatpu mission had purchased
the station for the Presbyterian mission, and placed a nephew of his in
charge. Although, true to their original bad character, the Dalles
Indians had frequently committed theft upon the passing emigration, this
was the first difficulty resulting in loss of life, which had taken
place. This quarrel arose out of some thefts committed by the Indians,
and the unwise advice of Mr. Waller, in telling the immigrants to
retaliate by taking some of the Indian horses. An Indian can see the
justice of taking toll from every traveler passing through his country;
but he cannot see the justice of being robbed in return; and Mr. Waller
had been long enough among them to have known this.
Finding that it must continue yet a little longer to look after its own
government and welfare, the colony had settled back into its wonted
pursuits. The legislature had convened for its winter session, and had
hardly elected its officers and read the usual message of the Governor,
before there came another, which fell upon their ears like a
thunderbolt. Gov. Abernethy had sent in the following letter, written at
Vancouver the day before:
FORT VANCOUVER, Dec. 7, 1847.
_George Abernethy, Esq._;
SIR:--Having received intelligence, last night, by special express
from Walla-Walla, of the destruction of the missionary settlement
at Waiilatpu, by the Cayuse Indians of that place, we hasten to
communicate the particulars of that dreadful event, one of the most
atrocious which darkens the annals of Indian crime.
Our lamented friend, Dr. Whitman, his amiable and accomplished
lady, with nine other persons, have fallen victims to the fury of
these remorseless savages, who appear to have been instigated to
this appalling crime by a horrible suspicion which had taken
possession of their superstitious minds, in consequence of the
number of deaths from dysentery and measles, that Dr. Whitman was
silently working the destruction of their tribe by administering
poisonous drugs, under the semblance of salutary medicines.
With a goodness of heart and benevolence truly his own, Dr. Whitman
had been laboring incessantly since the appearance of the measles
and dysentery among his Indian converts, to relieve their
sufferings; and such has been the reward of his generous labors.
A copy of Mr. McBean's letter, herewith transmitted, will give you
all the particulars known to us of this indescribably painful
event.
Mr. Ogden, with a strong party, will leave this place as soon as
possible for Walla-Walla, to endeavor to prevent further evil; and
we beg to suggest to you the propriety of taking instant measures
for the protection of the Rev. Mr. Spalding, who, for the sake of
his family, ought to abandon the Clear-water mission without delay,
and retire to a place of safety, as he cannot remain at that
isolated station without imminent risk, in the present excited and
irritable State of the Indian population.
I have the honor to be, sir, your most obedient servant,
JAMES DOUGLAS.