Blazing West, the Journal of Augustus Pelletier, the Lewis and Clark Expedition

by Kathryn Lasky

  August 1, 1805

  I can tell that Captain Lewis is anxious because we have not yet seen any Shoshoni. The summer is quickly passing to fall and the fall to winter. We must have horses to help us across the mountains.

  August 3, 1805

  Sacajawea has told Captain Lewis how we passed near the spot where she was captured some years ago. I did not know she had told him until I was working with him in his tent tonight on various specimens and the journals. He asked that I make copies of some entries. I was shocked when I read his words about her capture. He wrote, “I cannot discover that she shows any emotion of sorrow in recollecting this event . . . or any joy in being again restored to her native country; if she has enough to eat and a few trinkets to wear I believe she would be perfectly content anywhere.” I think Captain Lewis is absolutely wrong. Just because she never shows her feelings does not mean she hasn’t any. And as for trinkets, well, Sacajawea told me herself that the one “trinket” she would most love to own is the Captain’s sextant and quadrant by which she would like to learn to mark the position of the stars in the sky and her own place on earth. She couldn’t care less for beads — even blue ones.

  August 8, 1805

  We all took great cheer today as we rounded a bend in the Jefferson River and Sacajawea cried for joy (I hope Captain Lewis remarked on this display of emotion), for she recognized the hill that rears like the head of a beaver. She says we are very close now to the summer campgrounds of her people. This indeed lifted everyone’s spirits.

  August 10, 1805

  Captain Lewis spotted an Indian today. He shouted, “Tab-ba-bone,” and by gum if that Indian didn’t turn and run. Captain Lewis is very upset.

  We are approaching the divide of the continent now, and from there we shall see what road lies ahead. I believe that the Captains honestly think that the Columbia River will start almost as soon as the Missouri ends, or perhaps they think it shall begin after a short portage to the top of the mountains and then those mountains will sweep down gently to the west.

  August 12, 1805

  The Great Divide

  Today in the early morning we were most of us hiking. The river indeed had narrowed to a stream and had broken off into small rivulets. We began to climb a small slope. Then at about ten this morning Joe Field, Hugh McNeal, and I stood with each of our feet on either side of the most central rivulet. McNeal exclaimed, “This is it, boys! We done got here. This river has ended!” We were at the headwaters of the Missouri — at last.

  Then we continued on, following Captain Lewis and others as we climbed toward the top of the ridge before us. We would be the first from the new American nation to look beyond this ridge that divides the rivers of the continent and look to the northwest. At the top of the pass I must tell you I felt the dream, President Jefferson’s dream of a water route to the western ocean, running out like sand in an hourglass. I look around at the faces of the men and I think I am seeing the dream run out right there.

  One cannot imagine our shock, for we saw not another river tumbling down to the west and to the shores of a distant sea. No! We saw more mountains, high and higher, and beyond them other ranges — range upon range, snow covered and with no hope of a river through them. The river has ended but these mountains are as high as the stars, and they are waiting for us. We left most of our party on the eastern side of the pass over the dividing ridge with most of the baggage.

  Captain Lewis, Drouillard, and eight of us descended the western slope of the divide and made camp. The long shadows of the huge mountains in the setting sun stretched out, turning the evening light purple. An odd silence came upon us tonight. No one spoke much. Not one word was said about the Rockies.

  August 13, 1805

  This morning Captain Lewis and Drouillard and I set off early before first light. The Captain is fixed on meeting an Indian. Sure enough, after walking almost ten miles we see three Indian women. The Captain starts calling out, “Tab-ba-bone.” I felt like a dang fool because then he said I should start shouting this, too. I mean, I think we both must have looked like idiots, walking in this high country, yelling this word that doesn’t quite mean what it is supposed to. How would we feel if two Indians came walking down a street back in a place like St. Louis shouting, “Red Stranger! Red Stranger!” He managed to speak to them in sign language with Drouillard’s help. We gave them some beads and vermillion paint for their cheeks and then asked the women to take a message to their chiefs. Then finally, not more than an hour later, we saw an entire party, at least fifty Shoshoni coming toward us. I got to admire the Captain, for even though they looked like a war party, he quickly laid down his rifle.

  This was our first meeting. It went well. Everyone sat down to parley. The pipe was brought out. The Shoshoni took off their moccasins. Sacajawea had told us this was a sign of friendship. The chief’s name is Cameahwait. I wish Sacajawea had been there with us. I think it’s not fit that I should see her people before she does, and Captain Lewis should feel rotten about this, but he doesn’t. I honestly think he believes what he writes about Sacajawea having few feelings. In any case Sacajawea and Charbonneau are accompanying Captain Clark on a several days’ exploration of the Jefferson River.

  August 14, 1805

  We accompanied Cameahwait to their village this evening. They are wretchedly poor. They offered us a piece of salmon and some awful-tasting boiled root. Although they are very poor they are rich in horses. I would guess from just looking about that they have several hundred. Cameahwait and the Captain talk more. The chief and his people want guns. If they have guns, they say, they will be able to shoot buffalo and not have to eat so much of these bitter roots, which nourish them little. The Captain asked Cameahwait to cross back over the divide with him in the morning, and to bring thirty horses or more with him. They will meet up with Clark and the rest of the party on the eastern side of the pass at the forks of the Jefferson.

  August 16, 1805

  We crossed back over the pass. The Captain calls it Lemhi Pass now since the Shoshoni told him it is a passage to Lemhi River. We made our camp near a creek. Drouillard went out hunting and came back with a deer. The Indians were so starved they could hardly wait. They had heard the shot and met up with Drouillard at the kill site. When I arrived I saw a gruesome feast. They had not waited to start a fire or even do proper butchering. Blood ran down the Shoshoni warriors’ faces as they scooped out the kidneys and the liver and tore hunks of meat off the deer, eating it raw! But I was soon moved to pity, as I have never seen such poor starving creatures in all my life.

  August 17, 1805

  Captain Clark arrived at our camp this morning with Sacajawea. Just as Sacajawea was coming up I heard one of the warrior’s women make a little squealing sound. Then it was as if a whirlwind whipped by me and she sprang toward Sacajawea, who cried out and sprang toward her. The two began embracing each other and rubbing cheeks together and hugging and crying. Sacajawea turned to me and stuck her fingers in her mouth and made loud sucking noises, then crossed her arms over her chest. Through a dance of gestures I soon realized that this was her best friend from childhood, the one who had been captured with her and escaped. Her name is now Jumping Fish, for she had sprung, much as she had today, across the stream to escape the Hidatsas. And then there was more commotion. I had noticed as Sacajawea and Jumping Fish settled down into a quiet stream of tears of joy that Sacajawea had begun to stare at Cameahwait. Suddenly she raced across the bare ground, and running toward him, threw her blanket over him, a sign for blood relation. The chief Cameahwait is her brother! Her tears did not stop the whole morning. I doubt that Captain Lewis shall ever write in his journals again that Sacajawea shows no emotion or any joy in being restored to her native country. And certainly trinkets and a full belly are not enough to fill her soul and make her content. Because of the happy events that happened here the Captains have named this place Camp Fortunate.

  August 18, 18
05

  Today is Captain Lewis’s thirty-first birthday. He seems happy. He should be, as Cameahwait has gone back to his village to fetch more horses and mules to help transport us across this Lemhi Pass and hopefully over the immense mountains beyond. Some of our baggage we shall leave behind buried or hidden. The canoes will be left for there is no water route through those mountains. You’d have to be as dumb as a chicken to haul those canoes up the Rockies. When we get across and down to the Columbia we shall build new ones.

  I forgot to mention that I noticed that Sacajawea when she arrived in camp yesterday had a big bruise along the right side of her face. I asked her about it and she kind of shrugged, but then she told me that Charbonneau got mad at her and hit her. Lucky for her it was right when Captain Clark was walking up. The Captain got so mad that he picked up Charbonneau and threw him into a patch of thorns.

  August 22, 1805

  Cameahwait arrived back in camp today along with Sacajawea and Charbonneau, who had gone with him back to the village. We shall begin our portage across the pass in a day or so. Captain Clark gave Charbonneau money to buy a horse for Sacajawea.

  August 25, 1805

  Bad news. Charbonneau overheard that Cameahwait plans to leave us high and dry halfway up the Lemhi Pass, where we are now, and go off and hunt buffalo with another band of Shoshoni. Captain Lewis is fit to be tied. I have never seen him so mad. He gave Charbonneau a tongue blistering the likes of which I never heard. I guess Charbonneau has known about this plan for a while and never said a word to the Captain till after noon. A meeting was called. Sacajawea was there. I knew judging by the length at which she spoke that she was saying more than just the words Captain Lewis had said. She was truly convincing her brother that this was a dishonorable thing to do — to go back on his word. I guess she convinced him, because we are going forward again tomorrow.

  August 26, 1805

  We have crossed over the pass and now make our camp on the river called Lemhi. It is freezing cold. The Captain ordered Cruzatte to play the fiddle and the men to dance. But I can tell that the Captain is wary. He is still fearful that the Shoshoni will not make good on their promise of horses.

  August 27, 1805

  I had been thinking that Sacajawea was unusually quiet since returning from the Shoshoni village. Finally tonight she told me. She said that the man she was supposed to have married, who had been picked out by her family, had come up when she got there and claimed her as his wife. But when he found out she had had a child by Charbonneau, he no longer wanted her. I had never fully realized until that moment that Sacajawea had probably planned to stay in her village, if not right then, at least afterward when the Corps comes back east from the western ocean. She had planned to leave that lout Charbonneau, but now she can’t. But then she said maybe it was for the better. This I didn’t understand, but she explained that the man she was supposed to marry was an ugly old fellow and, besides that, many of the women of her village look hard on her now that she has a horse to ride, for indeed Captain Clark gave her one of the horses they got from the Shoshoni. Women do not have their own horses to ride among the Shoshoni and this sets her above her kind. So here she is, stuck again somewhere between nations, and like that badger, forever caught between worlds, not quite alive and not quite dead.

  August 29, 1805

  Captain Lewis was right to worry about the horses. Cameahwait just raised the price for the rest of the horses. Captain Clark had to throw in a pistol, a knife, and one hundred rounds of ammunition. The Captains broke one of their own rules: never to cut down on their own store of weapons and ammunition. But those mountains are high and those horses will prove better protection than guns. I think those Shoshoni don’t need any lessons in Yankee trading. They’re the best dang traders I ever seen. I think Sacajawea was pretty happy to see the price go up, to tell you the truth. She said that when she went back with her brother to his village, she could scarcely believe how poor they were.

  September 2, 1805

  The Bitterroots

  We moved down from the Lemhi River two days ago and follow the north fork of Fish Creek. The way is steep and slippery. Many of the horses have fallen and today we made only five miles. Nearly all of the Shoshoni except for an old man the Captains call Old Toby and his sons have turned back. There is no trail, no sign of a living person, Indian or white. But there are the mountains ahead. Their shadows begin to reach out for us soon after midday. With each step the way climbs higher.

  September 3, 1805

  Woke up to snow this morning. It comes down steadily all day. Our last thermometer broke. I have worry deep in my gut and not much of anything else, because we ate the last of the salt pork two days ago. Game is scarce here. Our route is nearly due north. We travel with the divide to our right.

  September 5, 1805

  Hard freeze last night. Came to a north-flowing river yesterday that we have named the Clark River. So now the Captains and their sweethearts all have rivers. This afternoon we met up with some Indians that the Shoshoni call the Salish, but the Captains call them the Flatheads. That is what they are calling all these northwest Indians — Flatheads because they heard that many of the tribes in this section of the country have a way of pressing their babies’ heads with a board when they are in the cradle to make the foreheads flat and the crown of their heads rise up. I cannot imagine it myself, and so far we have not seen any real flat heads. So I’ll just call these Indians the Salish. They seem very friendly. Old Toby is most helpful in talking to them as is Sacajawea, because their language is close to that of the Salish.

  September 11, 1805

  Weather bad. The snow is heavy and wet. I carry Pomp in the hide carrier for a while. Although Sacajawea rides on a horse, Pomp is still a heavy load. He is seven months old now and weighs close to twenty pounds, and when his diapers are soaking, which is most of the time, I am sure he weighs more than twenty.

  September 13, 1805

  We are almost always cold and hungry. Very hungry. We now eat only the awful portable soup. It fills you up for about five minutes but then you are hungrier than before.

  September 14, 1805

  We were so hungry today that we were forced to kill one of the young colts to eat. We call our campsite tonight on the south fork of this creek Colt Killed Creek.

  September 16, 1805

  I was on guard duty tonight. It began snowing, snowing hard three hours before daybreak. This does not look good.

  Later: I think this is maybe the worst day of the entire expedition. We are all so cold and hungry and low in spirits. The horses are starving. The Captains ordered another horse killed to feed us. We are well into these mountains that some of the Indians call the Bitterroot because of that foul-tasting root the Shoshoni fed us when we first met them. Nothing else seems to grow here, except big trees, and you can’t eat them. Game is scarce and we name this country after the horses we kill to eat. The dream died when we crossed the divide and saw only mountains ahead, no water route. Now we live the nightmare.

  September 17, 1805

  We eat bear grease. Sacajawea scoops handfuls of snow to keep her thin milk from drying up completely. I learned a new word from Sacajawea. Puha. It means courage. She cuts me a patch of mountain sheep hide and tells me to rub my face with it many times a day. It will prevent frostbite.

  September 19, 1805

  Captain Clark, who moves in advance of us, killed a stray horse and left it hanging in a tree for us. We set upon it instantly. The horse meat was tough but flavorful. Sacajawea chewed small pieces until they were like paste and then spit them out and gave them to Pomp, who made a sweet little sound — “ummmmuhummmuh” — as if he were enjoying every bite, or I guess every lick, for he has only one tooth.

  If there is a stray horse in this region we must be coming close to the settlements. These are Indians that Old Toby calls the Pierced Noses. Francis says the French trappers all call them the
Nez Percé, which means the same. It is hard for me to believe any human could live in these mountains.

  September 21, 1805

  Reuben Field, who had gone with Captain Clark, came back and told us that today they came upon two villages of the Nez Percé.

  September 23, 1805

  We have caught up with Clark at the second village of the Nez Percé. The chief here is a tall old man named Twisted Hair. We are the first white people these Indians have ever seen. They treat us with great respect, and they make us cakes of camas roots and feed us dried salmon. Captain Clark tells us not to overeat as we have been on short rations for so long we shall get sick with the dysentery.

  September 24, 1805

  Except for Sacajawea and Pomp we are all sick as dogs with dysentery. I don’t think the Field brothers are as sick as the rest of us, for they make terrible and crude jokes about us all running into the trees. Some are fairly funny but Father Dumaine would not want me to repeat them here. Well, one has to do with us making a new Missouri River that’s even muddier! Yes, very crude. My stomach cramps something fierce. Must run!