# Oregon Historical Quarterly/Volume 2/Reminiscences of Clement Adams Bradbury, 1846

REMINISCENCES OF CLEMENT ADAMS BRADBURY, 1846.
"Forty Thousand Miles to Oregon" might very appropriately be the title of Mr. Bradbury's narrative. His way of coming illustrates the manner in which Oregon gained some of her best people—the restless sailor element to which she has owed so much in a commercial way. Without the pioneer seamen, the farming people from the interior, remarkable as they were on land, would probably have remained comparatively torpid so far as trade and navigation were concerned, and thus been unable to develop a truly progressive industrial community.
Mr. Bradbury, it should be said, has not been personally identified with commercial enterprises in this state, but his recollections throw light upon the experience of his class of pioneers, and now given in some detail by him at the age of eighty-two, form a valuable contribution. The story illustrates how Oregon from the very first acted as sort of a magnet, attracting hither many of the most unsettled of persons, from sea as well as land; but once getting them, kept them as permanent citizens, and offered them, on the whole, the best environment for development of personal character, as well as social usefulness. One can hardly repress the thought, either, that there was something of a subtle providential selection bringing citizens to a community that even more positively than the old thirteen states was dedicated to the doctrine of human liberty and equality. ​
NATIVITY.
Clement Adams Bradbury was born March 18, 1819, in York County, Maine, at a point some thirty miles west of Portland. He was of rugged Yankee stock, and distantly related to the Bradbury s, of reputation in American science and music. His parents, however, were not in affluent circumstances, and in order to better their condition, became pioneers of Aroostook County, far up the coast, near the border, in the pine forest belt. It is interesting to notice that forty years after leaving that section, Mr. Bradbury, upon revisiting his old home, found the fields which he had ploughed reforested with vigorous young pines.
From the age of thirteen until twenty-five the young down-easter lived in the woods, becoming expert in the use of an axe, and priding himself equally upon his ability to swing the scythe, for every settler must have besides his timber lot, his field of hay. In consequence of his early training and labor he grew up tall and strong. He became a logger and lumberman, and naturally might have remained contented with life in the Pine Tree State; but the stories promulgated about Oregon penetrated even into the depths of the Aroostook woods. Young Bradbury felt their influence and attraction, and formed in his imagination vivid pictures of the Columbia River; which, moreover, were so accurately drawn in his mind that when he once saw the stream some years later they made the actual vision seem like a fulfillment of his day dreams. He finally got news that there was a ship at Bangor fitting out for the Pacific Coast, and went down to secure some sort of a passage; but, being disappointed, returned home with the conclusion that the Oregon fever was simply a disorder of which he must cure himself.
​In the spring of 1844, however, being employed on the Penobscot, and coming down the river on the log drive with the freshet, he decided to go on to Boston, with the intention of finding employment for about a year, and then returning home with a little cash. It actually took him forty years to get back, and that simply as a visitor. Finding no work in Boston, he went on to New York, and there being still unsuccessful, returned to Boston, whence he went to New Bedford, still bent on his quest. His determination not to go home until he had made some money, and some little experience that he already had on coasting vessels, induced him to accept the only job in sight, which was to ship on a whaling vessel, the Sally Ann, Captain Clark.
WHALING.
No small part of the industry of America has been in providing the world with illumination. The New England student and professional man, burning the midnight oil, created quite a part of the demand for which his brothers chasing the whales of the north or south seas found the supply—until the discovery of petroleum in large quantity.
Mr. Bradbury recalls freshly the numberless incidents of his whaling voyages, and the risks run in harpooning these leviathans, into whose noses the Yankee sailors managed to put a hook. In the southern Indian Ocean, where the Sally Ann went first, there were a number of narrow escapes. Once a vicious whale had been harpooned and in its violence was lashing the sea, and making dangerous lunges towards the boat. "Boat astern! boat astern!' came the order of the mate. Bradbury was at one of the oars, and recalls distinctly the energy which he put into his movement, and how he glanced ​over his shoulder at the body of the monster, which despite their best efforts was still plunging toward them; and at the last lift and sweep of its body brought down its flukes with the precision of an enormous knife, just striking the nose of the boat, and cutting off clean a few inches of it. Such a stroke a very little further would have shivered the boat completely, and probably have brought death to every man in it. At another time, spearing a whale proved even more serious; three boats were smashed on his body, and a boat steerer killed.
As to treatment on shipboard there was little to complain of, says Bradbury. The American whaler was quite an independent man. He took his share, or "lay," in the voyage, and realized according as the fishing proved successful. On the Sally Ann there was an abundance of pork and beans; and on Sundays and holidays,—and every day that a whale was captured it was a holiday also,—there was duff. Sunday was observed as a day of rest, unless a whale spouted; when all hands were ready to man the boats.
The officers, with but a single exception, were agreeable men. It w r as a temperance crew and there was no grog. The exceptionable officer was a mate by the name of Swayne, a Virginian, and of so fiery a temper and behavior that he was dubbed "Red Gills. Between this man and a little Englishman named Jack Richards, there were frequent quarrels, Bradbury once interferring to prevent the mate attacking Richards with a capstan bar; then being complained of as "preventing discipline," he was himself ordered "into the rigging," and the three mates were proceeding to enforce the command. But the sailors from the forecastle demurred, and Bradbury's explanation to the captain was accepted as satisfactory. Bradbury considered that he, no less than officer, was a man, and claimed a man's treatment. The final fate ​of "Red Gills" illustrated the soundness of this principle. He afterwards ran a ship with a crew of negroes, whom he treated inhumanly, until they turned upon him, a husky darkey taking the chance to fall upon him from the rigging, and the whole crew then setting upon and beating him severely.
The fishing season in the south Pacific proving very disappointing, the course of the Sally Ann was directed toward the north Pacific, and after about equally poor success there the course was retraced southward, with a stop at Honolulu for restocking the ship with provisions. Then the run was continued, with a stop at Sidney, Australia. By this time, however, the most of the crew were tired of the vessel, and the prospect of getting a full cargo of whale products seemed unlikely. Moreover, Australia was a new country and looked very attractive . In consequence, a large proportion of the crew of the Sally Ann who got leave to go ashore forgot to come back, and prospects of obtaining other men to fill the vacancies were not encouraging. Bradbury, therefore, rather than stay with a ship that might be detained long, and might at last return to New Bedford half empty, concluded that he also would try life for a while in rural Australia, making the adventure with a companion nicknamed "Long Charlie."
It was inexpedient to stay in Sidney while the ship was there, and the two young Americans enjoyed immensely their clandestine shore leave, proceeding directly into the country. They were struck with its beauty, which much resembled what was afterwards seen by Bradbury in California—open fields and' hills, intersprinkled sparsely with timber, but of species hitherto unknown to him. A convenient stopping place was at length found with an old Scotchman, by whom the two were nominally hired to work.
​After receiving word at length that their ship had sailed from Sidney, Bradbury and his companion returned to that port and looked for work. But here they met with difficulties. Australia was then just emerging from the conditions of a convict colony, and employers were careful to hire only those who had regular passports, or recommendations of some kind. Bradbury and Charlie had, of course, no discharge, and could get none except from the American consul, but on applying to him they got no comfort. He proved to be much of a martinet and insisted upon regularity. The young men, therefore, one evening, in the privacy of their room, made out for each other, properly drawn and signed, the necessary discharge, Bradbury becoming, for the time being, Clement Adams. However, he never made use of the document, finding at length employment without it, and at the rub not wishing to take advantage of an indirection, although seeming to him justifiable.
TO BERING'S STRAITS.
Being impressed at length that it was not agreeable to be under suspicion of being an ex-convict, and finding no way of acquiring regularity, except by shipping again and getting his discharge papers, Bradbury, finding a whaler, the old Baltic, an American ship from New England, soon to sail for the Arctic, enrolled himself once more as an able seaman . The voyage for the north Pacific was soon begun, the objective point being the Petropulaski fishing grounds.
The season proved stormy, and, as is frequently the case in the high latitudes, when they reached the northern Pacific they were invested with interminable fogs. On one such period of continuous mists and high winds occurred a singular accident—nothing less than the ​wreck of their ship and the consequent detention of Bradbury, along with the rest of the crew and the officers, for some time upon a waste island. It happened as follows: All sails were set and the old ship was plunging along before the wind. A high sea was running and the tide was at its full. It was the sixteenth of June, 1846, and in the middle of the afternoon. The fog rested so densely on the water that it was difficult to see even a ship's length ahead, and still the ship was driving at top speed. Suddenly the order came to shorten sail, and the men willingly climbed the masts and began . reefing, for all knew the rashness of running at such a speed in the obscurity. But as the men were in the midst of their work, the vessel struck—just what was not immediately known, but so suddenly that the sailors were all but thrown from the yards.
The obstruction proved, however, as soon discovered, a reef of rocks, and the Baltic was hard and fast on Bering's Island, as then known, near the entrance to the straits. The command now came to lower away the boats, and make to the shore, as heavy breakers on the vessel threatened to soon batter her to pieces. The fog seemed to lift a little at this juncture, as they loaded into the boats and cleared away, and there appeared before them a smooth, sandy shore, white with sea foam; and also with flocks of what looked to the sailors as large and white as sheep—but proved, of course, to be white-breasted sea birds. Riding well on the tops of the combers, the boats made a good landing, running half their length on the sand as they struck; and this being on the crest of the tide, they were then readily drawn up above water line and turned over to form a shelter, under which the men spread their blankets. "It was a lucky landing,' says Mr. Bradbury. Almost anywhere else on the island the shore was rocky and bluff, and the ship going at storm speed, ​would have been broken to pieces and all lost. It seems almost incredible that the ship should have been allowed to drive thus in the fog, and illustrates with what recklessness, as often noticed by the European writers in regard to the American seamen, sailing was carried on at an early day; though the suspicion was formed in the minds of the sailors of the Baltic that as the ship was old, the wreck was not wholly accidental. It was but a few hours after striking before the ship went to pieces, and the wreckage coming in on the waves, strewed the shore. Among this was much provision. Guns and ammunition and some barrels of sea biscuit had also been hastily stowed into the boats, and as there was an abundance of game on the island, there was no immediate danger of suffering from lack of food. There were pheasants, resembling the Mongolian species, of fine flavor. They also tried eating sea gulls, which were too fishy to be good; and once they tried eating a bald eagle, which, says Bradbury, was the toughest mouthful he ever attempted to chew, the muscular fibers very much resembling steel wires.
Nevertheless, with all its comforts of boat bottoms for roofs, plenty of driftwood for fires, and pheasants, sea birds, and bald eagles for food, the island was a bleak place. The upper part was still covered with snow. It was, therefore, with much joy that a ship was at length sighted, and its attention gained. The question rose whether to divide their company, and let a part take this vessel, and the other part wait for another; or all take this and place what stores they had on board, and trust to having enough provisions to do them all to port. The latter was decided upon, the stores dug up and placed in the boats, and all loaded away for the Bengal,—for such the vessel turned out to be, an American ship from New Bedford. She was bound for Honolulu, and with a double ​crew, very jolly times, and without much hard work to the man, were enjoyed. Care sat lightly on the young seamen, and they all had regular rations as if there was no thought of shortage, though upon making harbor it was found but a day's supply remained aboard.
TO THE COLUMBIA.
At the Sandwich Islands, Bradbury found ships ready to sail for New England, but having made no money thus far on his two and a half years' cruising, he felt very averse to returning home just yet. Finding Captain Crosby, a merchant of Oregon in port with his bark, Bradbury decided to try this new country at last, in hope of finding here his fortune. Crosby at first rather hesitated to accept a man to work his passage, as Bradbury must, but upon looking the young sailor over again, decided to give him a trial; and until the voyage was half completed, Bradbury did his full share of work. About this time, however, he was* attacked with low fever, and as the disease was prolonged, became at last so much reduced that all consciousness left him, and to this day he has no recollection of the last half of the voyage, or even of crossing the Columbia bar. The first return of perception was to find himself within the river, and he recalls the refusal of his request to go ashore, as he was too weak to move.
Sailing up the Columbia proved a slow process, but in the course of time the vessel was met, at some point perhaps about Deer Island, by a capacious boat from up the river, under David McLoughlin. Into this Bradbury was allowed to enter, and in the course of the day was rowed up to Portland, then a town of one house, and there he paid his last fifty-cent piece for bed and breakfast. Men that he remembers aboard the vessel, besides ​Crosby, were the first mate, Drew; the second mate, "One Armed": Robinson; and the boatswain, De Wit, who afterwards settled on a farm on Tualatin Plains, but later went into business in Portland.
FIRST EXPERIENCES IN OREGON.
The season was now advanced into late November, and the weather was damp and cloudy. Bradbury was still weak from his long illness, and had not regained fully the use of his faculties. He was entirely destitute, also, except for his mattress and blankets, which he carried with him. He was a total stranger, and the fact that he had drifted in from the sea was but a poor recommendation. "It was a terrible sin those days in Oregon,he says, "to be either a Yankee or a sailor—for whatever reason I can not imagine." This was, perhaps, some exaggeration of the feeling, but the early Oregonians being largely from the South and West, and unused to the sea, did probably feel some provincial prejudice against those belonging to the more versatile race of Yankee sailors and traders, and looked with suspicion upon their cleverness. Bradbury's introduction to life in Oregon was not wholly agreeable, but well illustrates how our state was built by men who brought nothing here but their strong hands and hearts.
At Portland he found a boat about leaving for Oregon City; into this he was taken upon what terms he hardly understood. He did not learn, either, that at the Clackamas Rapids, where they arrived in course of time, and were set ashore while the boat was cordeled to the calm water above, that he was simply to pass around and enter the boat again; but he left the boat altogether, and wandered off to the first house he saw, which was Straight's. He was there hospitably entertained over night, and in ​the morning was directed to follow the road "up the river," which led to Oregon City. However, it was not noticed that he was still a sick man and a total stranger, or that, instead of going up the Willamette road, he took an old trail up the Clackamas; but this he did and wandered all day, following uncertain cattle paths, and not until night did he conclude—weak as he still was in his mind—that he had taken the wrong road. He heard frequently the sound of axes in the distance, but was unable to obtain reply to his calls. Finding at last, towards evening, an opening in the woods, where, however, there stood a few immense fir trees, he prepared to spend the night. He had no material to strike a fire, and but one blanket. He dared not lie on the damp ground in his state of health, and passed the night alternately dozing, leaning against the big fir tree, and in walking about it to keep up his warmth. Next morning, following down the river, he was taken by an Indian in a canoe, who, on account of the "skookum chuck,"—which was then all jargon to Bradbury,—would not take him to Oregon City; nor would he take him at all for his shirt, which Bradbury offered, but must have the "passissi," or blanket. For this, in payment, Bradbury was landed by the Indian at Foster's, on Green Point, and there hospitably entertained without charge; he thence very readily made his way to Oregon City, stopping at Sidney Moss' hotel. "We have enough to eat, thank God," said Moss, when Bradbury told him of his circumstances, "and you can pay me when you get work." His bedding he found at Abernethy's store, and against it stood a charge of a dollar for transportation, for which he settled with all the tobacco he had left. At Moss' he found another Yankee sailor, Frank Aikin, who had come to Oregon on a previous trip of ​Crosby's. He was now cooking at the hotel. He afterwards settled at Mount Solo, on the Columbia.
Bradbury met with the misfortune of losing his blankets as he was off looking for work at Dick McKay's, which was something of a hardship, as every man carried his own bedding, and he was now left with only a mattress, and a Sandwich Island rush mat for cover. By George Gay, however, he was very kindly taken, without charge, up the Willamette River, and to French Prairie, where he looked for work.; he was entertained there by a Frenchman. His destitution and still lingering illness were the main troubles.
A JOB AT LAST.
Drifting down once more to Portland, he was there delighted to find the track of work. This was with Henry Hunt, who had brought sawmill machinery across the plains in 1843, and had set it up at a fine waterfall at Cathlamet Point, on the Oregon side of the Columbia, a little above the present town of Clifton. The pay was to be $20 a month, in "script and grindstones.' There was no specie in the country at the time, and the medium of exchange consisted simply of orders on the merchants; Allen & McKinley, Pettygrove, Abernethy, and the Hudson's Bay Company at Oregon City, being then the principal dealers. Some of them were accused of keeping nothing but grindstones in full stock when holders of script appeared to draw orders.
Bradbury was promptly dubbed "The Yankee," by Hunt, who was a Western man and used the term somewhat contemptuously. But once he was at the mill, the name was made honorable. He was given an ax to fell timber. The first tree to be attacked was a yellow fir, and the day January 15, 1847. He began after dinner, ​thinking to bring down the giant, an eight-foot-diameter trunk, before night. But, after sinking the undercut about sixteen inches, further progress was arrested by striking a copious flow of pitch, which ran literally barrels of a crude turpentine. This was something new, even to the Yankee, and at night he had little to say. But the next day the liquid was found drained off, and not only did he fell that tree, but brought down five others, to the amazement of Hunt and all the others. His reputation, which his employer was ready to back with a wager, as the best chopper on the Pacific Coast, was then established.
TO THE GOLD MINES.
The summer was passed at Hunt's mill, with the exception gf a run down to Clatsop Plains, where some of the first settlers of Oregon made homes, and with whom Bradbury made lifelong friendship. He also began to look upon life in Oregon as a permanency, and with a young man named Day, as partner, bought of a Scotchman, Charlie Wright, the claim at Oak Point, the original "Point ': being on the Oregon side of the Columbia, on the alluvial lands where the oak trees grew. This was the old site of Major Winship's venture in 1809, and sap-decayed logs of oak and stumps, with bark and root fibrils gone, still attested this earliest attempt at occupation of Oregon by Americans.
But late in the summer of 1848 these plans were halted by the exciting news brought from California by the brig Henry that gold had been discovered. The men at the mill immediately decided what they would do—they would build a small vessel and go down to the mines. Fred Ketchum, who had come a few years before as a beardless boy, undertook the task of supervising construction of the craft. He was from ​Woodstock, New Brunswick, which, as it happened, was but some twenty miles from Bradbury's old home. He was not a regular shipwright, but was a man of great mechanical ingenuity, and had already built a number of boats and was fully competent to work out a larger design. The result was, The Wave, a keel boat of rather broad beam, of schooner rig, and about twenty tons burden. She was one of three that were built and launched about the same time on the Columbia, all out crossing over the bar the same day, which was about the middle of September. One of the two other boats had been made from the Peacock's launch, and was commanded by Geer. The other was built further up the river. Thus is illustrated how, even in 1848, scant as was her population, Oregon could promptly meet almost any demand required of skill and ingenuity.
There were fifteen men that went on The Wave, and their various supplies and a cargo of flour nearly filled the decks. Fifteen days were spent in the voyage, though the boat proved a good sailer; but an unnecessarily long distance was covered. However, the time was spent agreeably, and the Golden Gate was passed safely. The schooner had been painted and was well rigged, and lacked but one convenience, which was a stove; but this was partially made up by a fireplace of clay, with a few bricks to facilitate cooking.
Mining was followed with varying fortune for about a year. The first venture was on the north fork of the American River, in partnership with John and Richard Hobson and Marcellus. After digging amid snow and frost for about three months and making $3,000 each, they discontinued operations. Provisions were bought at a regular rate of a dollar a pound of another party of Oregonians, among whom were Robb and Jeffers. Two ​ounces per day was the regular dig, but when this gradually dwindled to only $25 each, they thought it time to look for something better.
With Marcellus the schooner Star was now purchased and freighting on the Sacramento was undertaken, but this was abandoned by Bradbury at length, on account of severe attacks of ague, from the infection of the river.
Another turn was taken at the mines, about thirty miles from Coloma, where the gold occurred in coarse nuggets, which were covered with iron oxide, and were sometimes overlooked as mere gravel, unless scratched by the pick. Mr. Bradbury here struck a nugget of over two pounds weight, for which he afterwards refused $1,000, though its actual assay value was about $500.
He recalls some of the Indian troubles, and the murder of Ben Wood and two other Oregonians at a place which he recollects as Spanish Bar, afterwards called Murderers' Bar. He was himself, with his partners, once confronted with the prospect of a massacre, many Indians suddenly appearing, as if from the rocks, and drawing their bows; but the timely appearance of rifles caused the dark bodies of the Diggers to sink into their burrows almost as soon as they had risen. This was while the miners were at work on their claims.
H. S. LYMAN.