At one of our encampments an amusing accident occurred. We were out hunting buffalo, and had succeeded in wounding a bull, who, furious with his wound, made, with the speed of lightning, directly for the camp, leaving a cloud of dust in his track. The troops, perceiving his approach, scattered in all directions as though an avalanche was bursting upon them. On went the buffalo, overturning tents, baggage, and guns — leaping every impediment that arrested his course; then, turning, he plunged into the river and gained the opposite prairie, leaving more than a hundred soldiers seared half to death at his visitation. They certainly discharged their pieces at him, but, for all the injury they inflicted, he will probably live to a good old age.
Previous to our arrival at Fort Clarke we met with another serious misadventure. The boat containing all our general’s effects, running on a snag, immediately sunk. Again all our packs were afloat, and General Atkinson, witnessing the accident, ordered every man overboard to save the peltry, himself setting the example. In an instant, mountaineers, United States officers and soldiers plunged in to the rescue. Fortunately it was shoal water, not more than waist high, and all was speedily saved.
General Atkinson related a difficulty he had had with the Crow nation in the course of a treaty with them at Fort Clarke, on his way up the river. The Crows, in a battle with the Black Feet, had taken a half-breed woman and child, whom they had captured on the Columbia River some time previously. General Atkinson ordered them to liberate the captives, which they refused to do, saying that they had taken them from their enemies, the Black Feet, and that they clearly belonged to them. The general persisted in his demand, and the Indians refused to comply, even offering to fight about the matter. The general declined fighting that day, but desired them to come on the morrow and he would be prepared.
The next day the Indian force presented themselves for the onset, they bringing a host of warriors. One of the chiefs visited the military camp for a “talk.” He had an interview with Major O’Fallen, who ordered him to give up the captives or prepare to fight. The chief boastingly replied, through Rose, the interpreter, that the major’s party was not a match for the Crows; that he would whip his whole army. On this, the major, who was a passionate man, drew his pistol and snapped it at the chief’s breast. It missed fire, and he then struck the Indian a violent blow on the head with the weapon, inflicting a severe gash. The chief made no resistance, but remained sullen. When this occurrence reached the ears of the Indian warriors, they became perfectly infuriated, and prepared for an instant attack. General Atkinson pacified them through Rose, who was one of the best interpreters ever known in the whole Indian country. During the hubbub, the Indians spiked the general’s guns with wooden spikes, and stuffed them with grass.
Their principal chief, “Long Hair,” then visited the camp, and addressed the general:
“White Chief, the Crows have never yet shed the blood of the white people; they have always treated them like brothers. You have now shed the first blood; my people are angry, and we must fight.”
The general replied, “Chief, I was told by my friend, the great Red-haired Chief, that the Crows were a good people; that they were our friends. We did not come to fight the Crows; we came as their friends.”
“The Red-haired Chief!” exclaimed Long Hair, in astonishment; “are you his people?”
“Yes,” replied the general.
“The Red-haired Chief is a great chief, and when he hears that you have shed the blood of a Crow, he will be angry, and punish you for it. Go home,” he added, “and tell the Red-haired Chief that you have shed the blood of a Crow, and, though our people were angry, we did not kill his people. Tell him that you saw Long Hair, the Crow chief, to whom he gave the red plume many winters ago.”
Long Hair and Rose then went out and harangued the warriors, who immediately withdrew, and soon the woman and child were brought into camp. The general made them a present of a great number of guns, and ammunition in abundance, at which they were highly delighted.
The reader who has perused “Lewis and Clarke’s Travels” will please to understand that the “Red-haired Chief” spoken of above was none other than Mr. Clarke, whom the Crows almost worshiped while he was among them, and who yet hold his name in the highest veneration. He was considered by them to be a great “medicine man,” and they supposed him lord over the whole white race.
The loss of the boat being supplied, and all to rights again, we continued our course down the Missouri, still in company with the troops, until we reached Fort Look-out, where we encamped for the night. There was a trading-post at this fort, belonging to the American Fur Company, in charge of Major Pitcher. The major made General Ashley present of a large grizzly bear for a plaything, and a pretty plaything we found him before we were done with him. He was made fast with a chain to the cargo-box on deck, and seemed to think himself captain; at any rate, he was more imperious in his orders than a commodore on a foreign station. He would suffer no one on deck, and seemed literally to apply the poet’s words to himself,
“I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute.”
We continued our course down the river, encamping on shore every night. We had a jovial time of it, telling stories, cracking jokes, and frequently making free with Uncle Sam’s “O be joyful,” of which there was great plenty for the supply of rations to the troops. The soldiers listened with astonishment to the wild adventures of the mountaineers, and would, in turn, engage our attention with recitals of their own experience.
At length we arrived at Council Bluffs, where we remained three days, feeling ourselves almost at home. We of course had a good time at the Bluffs, and the three days passed in continual festivities.
Providing ourselves with a good boat, we bade adieu to the troops, who stayed behind at the Bluffs, and continued our descent of the river. The current of the Missouri is swift, but to our impatient minds a locomotive would have seemed too tardy in removing us from the scenes of hardship and privation we had just gone through to the homes of our friends, our sweethearts, our wives and little ones.
Those who reside in maritime places, and have witnessed the hardy tars step ashore in their native land, can form an adequate idea of the happy return of the mountaineers from their wanderings on the Plains to St. Louis, which is their great sea-port; or, if a pun is admissible, I may perhaps say see-port; for there we see our old friends, there we see our fun and merriment, and there we sometimes “see sights.”
Arrived at St. Charles, twenty miles above St. Louis, the general dispatched a courier to his friends, Messrs. Warndorf and Tracy, to inform them of his great success, and that he would be in with his cargo the next day about noon.
When we came in sight of the city we were saluted by a piece of artillery, which continued its discharges until we landed at the market-place. There were not less than a thousand persons present, who hailed our landing with shouts which deafened our ears. Those who had parents, brothers and sisters, wives or sweethearts, met them at the landing; and such a rushing, crowding, pulling, hauling, weeping, and laughing I had never before witnessed. Everyone had learned our approach by the courier.
My father, who had moved to St. Louis, was in the crowd, and was overjoyed to see me. He had lost a part of his property by being surety for other men, and I could see that age had left its traces upon him during the little time that I had been absent.
Our cargo was soon landed and stored, the men receiving information that they would be paid off that afternoon at the store of Messrs. Warndorf and Tracy. We accordingly repaired thither in a body to receive our pay. The full amount was counted out in silver to each man, except three, namely, La Roche, Pellow, and myself. To us the general gave twenty-five dollars each, telling us he would see us there again. I immediately thought of my difficulty with him in the mountains, and concluded that the remainder of my pay was to be withheld on that account. We took our twenty-five dollars each, and went away, asking no farther quest
ions, though we took no trouble to conceal our thoughts. Before we left the counting-room, the general told us to repair to any hotel we chose, and have whatever we liked to call for until the next morning, and he would pay the bill.
Accordingly, we all repaired to Le Barras’s hotel, and had a glorious time of it. The house was thronged with our friends besides, who all felt themselves included in the general’s hospitality. General Ashley called on us the next morning, and, perceiving that we had “run all night,” told us to keep on another day at his expense, adding that, if we wished to indulge in a ride, he would pay for carriages. We profited by his hint, and did not fail to take into our party a good share of lasses and mountaineers.
The next morning the general again visited us, and, seeing we were pretty sober, paid the bill (not a trifling matter), and desired us to call on him at the store at ten o’clock. We went as appointed, not knowing yet how he would treat us. When we were assembled, he paid us our wages in full, made us a present of three hundred dollars each, and desired us to purchase a first-rate suit of clothes each at his expense.
“I give you this extra,” he said, “for your faithful services to me in the mountains; for your watchfulness over my property and interest while there; for your kindness in caring for me while sick and helpless, carrying me when unable to walk, and not leaving me to perish in the camp alone.”
I forgot to mention the disembarkation of Grizzly at the proper time, but will do so here. After the peltry was all landed and stored, the bear still occupied his station. Hundreds were yet gazing at him, many of whom had never seen one of the kind before. The general said to me, “James, how, under the sun, are we to get that animal off the boat?” I, having a few glasses of “artificial courage” to back me, felt exceedingly valorous, and thought myself able to throw a mill-stone across the Mississippi. Accordingly, I volunteered to bring him ashore. I procured a light stick, walked straight up to the bear, and, speaking very sharp to him (as he had to us all the way down the river), deliberately unfastened his chain. He looked me in the eyes for a moment, and, giving a low whine, drooped his head. I led him off the boat along a staging prepared for the purpose, the crowd instantly falling back to a respectful distance. Landing him without accident, the general wished me to lead him to the residence of Major Biddle, distant a quarter of a mile from the landing. Courageous as ever, I led him on, though some of the time he would lead his leader, Bruin often looking round at the crowd that was following up at a prudent distance behind. I arrived safe at the residence, and made Grizzly fast to an apple-tree that stood there. I had scarcely got to the length of his chain, when he made a furious spring at me; the chain, very fortunately, was a strong one, and held him fast.
I then called at the major’s house, and, delivering our general’s compliments to him, informed him he had sent a pet for his acceptance. He inquired what kind of a pet, and, taking him to the tree where I had made fast the bear, I showed the huge beast to him. The major almost quaked with fear. While we stood looking at him, a small pig happened to pass near the bear, when Grizzly dealt him such a blow with his paw that he left him not a whole bone in his body, and piggy fell dead out of the bear’s reach.
The major then invited me in, and, setting out some of his best, I drank his health according to the custom of those days, and left to rejoin my companions.
CHAPTER VIII.
Unexpected Return to the Rocky Mountains.—Camp removed.—Final Success in finding our party in the Mountains.—Joyful Meeting.—Horses stolen by the Pun-nak Indians.—A Battle, and six Indians killed.—We recapture our Horses.
I HAD been in St. Louis only one week, when Gen. Ashley came to me, and desired me to return to the mountains immediately, to carry dispatches to Mr. W. L. Sublet, captain of the trappers, and offering me the magnificent sum of one thousand dollars for the trip. I consented to go; La Roche and Pellow were to accompany me. A journey to the mountains was then called two thousand miles, through a country considered dangerous even for an army. I left St. Louis this time with extreme reluctance. It is a severe trial to leave one’s friends; but the grief of separating from father and all other relatives sank into insignificance when contrasted with the misery of separating from one in particular-one in whom all my affections were reposed, and upon whom all my hopes of the future were concentrated. The contemplation of the anguish I was about to inflict by the announcement filled my heart with sorrow. One week more, and the happy event that would make one of two loving hearts would have been consummated.
The general’s business was urgent, and admitted of no delay; after I had engaged, not a day, scarcely an hour was to be lost. The thousand dollars I was to receive looked large in my eyes; and that, added to what I already possessed, would the better prepare me for a matrimonial voyage. I comforted myself with the reflection that my services were confined to the mere delivering of the dispatches; that service performed, I was free to return immediately.
I bid my aged father farewell — it was the last time I saw him. To my other friends I said cheerfully au revoir, expecting to return to them shortly.
But my greatest conflict was to come. I had encountered perils, privation, and faced death itself; I had fought savages and the wild beasts of the mountains; but to approach this tender heart, that had been affianced to my own for years, unmanned me. That heart that was then so light, so buoyant with hope, so full of confidence in the future, that I must plunge in utter darkness by the intelligence that in a few short hours I must leave her! Could I have communicated it to her by fighting a score of Indians, how much my pain would have been mitigated! But time was urgent, and the sacred obligation to the lady must be performed.
I called on my sweetheart; she looked more lovely than ever. She remarked my troubled looks. “James,” she said, “you look saddened; what is the matter? Are you unwell?”
“No, Eliza, I am well; but —”
“But what, James? What has happened? Speak!”
Knowing that I had no time for delay, I felt it my duty to break the news to her at once.
“My dear girl,” I said, “I have loved you long and ardently. I have waited to see if the affection which you shared with me in childhood would stand the proof of maturer years. We are now both matured in years, and are capable of judging our own hearts. Through all my sufferings and dangers, my devotion to you has grown with my growth and strengthened with my strength. We have decided on the day for our indissoluble union. But, Eliza, I am yet young; my means of supporting you as I could wish are inadequate. I have just received a very tempting offer from General Ashley.”
“What to do, James?”
“He offers me one thousand dollars to carry dispatches to the mountains, which admits of my immediate return.”
“And are you going?”
“That is what I have come to inform you, Eliza. Understand my motive — it is solely to obtain the means to enable us to start the fairer in life.”
“I care not for money, James,” she said, bursting into a flood of tears.
My heart sought relief from its overcharged feeling in the same way. I left her amid her sobs, promising to make a speedy return, and that we would part no more till death should separate us.
The general had furnished us with two good saddle-horses each, and one stout mule to carry our bedding. We mounted, and, leaving St. Louis, were soon some miles on our journey. We proceeded up the Missouri River, left the last white settlement, and issued out into the wilderness. We proceeded with the utmost caution; always halting before dark, we built a fire and ate our supper; then moving on farther to a secure camping-place, we lit no fire, to avoid attracting the Indians to us. On arriving at the forks of the Platte, we held a council, and resolved to follow up the north branch to its source, thence cross over to Green River, thus striking it much higher up than we had ever been on that stream before. We proceeded accordingly— crossed Green River, and held our course to the head of Salt River. Here we found a party belonging to the gene
ral’s company. Winter was now beginning to set in, and it was time for the whole company to go into winter quarters. As nearly as I can recollect, this was the end of October, 1823.
A place of rendezvous had been previously agreed upon, and as it was certain that the various parties would soon assemble, I concluded to proceed to the rendezvous, and wait the arrival of Sublet, for the delivery of my dispatches, rather than undertake a search for him in the mountain wilderness. I and my companions, therefore, continued with the party until we reached the rendezvous. The parties, one after the other, came slowly in, and Sublet’s was the last to arrive. It was now too late for me to return, and I had no alternative but to wait until spring.
Our present rendezvous was in Cache Valley, but Sublet gave orders for all to remove to Salt Lake, which was but a few miles distant, and then go into winter quarters. We accordingly moved to the mouth of “Weaver’s Fork,” and established ourselves there. When all were collected together for the winter, our community numbered from six to seven hundred souls (from two to three hundred consisting of women and children), all strong and healthy as bears, and all having experienced very good success.
Shortly after we had become well settled down, we had the misfortune to lose about eighty horses, stolen one dark, stormy night by the Pun-naks, a tribe inhabiting the head-waters of the Columbia River. On missing them the next day, we formed a party of about forty men, and followed their trail on foot-the ground was covered with snow at the time. I volunteered with the rest, although fortunately my horses were not among the missing. After a pursuit of five days we arrived at one of their villages, where we saw our own horses among a number of others. We then divided our forces, Fitzpatrick taking command of one party, and a James Bridger of the other.
The Life and Adventures of James P Beckwourth Page 7