# How Marcus Whitman saved Oregon/Chapter 6

CHAPTER VI.
THE RIDE TO SAVE OREGON.
The world loves a hero, and the pioneer history of our several States furnishes as interesting characters as are anywhere recorded. In view of the facts and conditions already recited, the old Missionaries were anxious and restless, and yet felt in a measure powerless to avert the danger threatened. They believed fully that under the terms of the treaty of 1818, re-affirmed in 1828, whichever nationality settled and organized the territory, that nation would hold it.
This was not directly affirmed in the terms of that treaty, but was so interpreted by the Americans and English in Oregon, and was greatly strengthened by the fact that leading statesmen in Congress had for nearly half a century wholly neglected Oregon, and time and again gone upon record as declaring it worthless and undesirable. In their conferences the Missionaries from time to time had gone ​over the whole question, and did 100 everything in their power to encourage immigration.
Their glowing accounts of the fertility of the soil, the balmy climate, the towering forests, the indications of richness in minerals, had each year induced a limited number of more daring Americans to immigrate.
In this work of the Missionaries Jason Lee, the chief of the Methodist Missions, was, up to the date of the incident we are to narrate, the most successful of all. He was a man of great strength of character. Like Whitman, he was also a man of great physical strength, fearless, and, with it all, wise and brainy. No other man among the pioneers, for his untiring energy in courting immigration, can be so nearly classed with Whitman.
They were all men, who, though in Oregon to convert Indian savages to Christianity, yet were intensely American. They thought it no abuse of their Christianity to carry the banner of the Cross in one hand and the banner of their country in the other. Missionaries as they were, thousands of miles from home, neglected by the Government, yet the love of country seemed to shine with constantly increasing luster.
In addition to the Missionaries, at the time of which we write, there was quite a population of agriculturists and traders in the near vicinity of each mission. These heartily coöperated with ​the Missionaries and shared their anxieties. In 1840–'41 many of them met and canvassed the subject whether they should make an attempt to organize a government under the Stars and Stripes; but they easily saw that they were outnumbered by the English, who were already organized and were the real autocrats of the country.
So the time passed until the fall of 1842, when Elijah White, an Indian agent for the Government in the Northwest, brought a party of Americans, men, women and children, numbering one hundred and twenty, safely through to Waiilatpui. In this company was a more than usually intelligent, well-informed Christian gentleman, destined to fill an important place in our story, General Amos L. Lovejoy. He was thoroughly posted in national affairs, and gave Dr. Whitman his first intimation of the probability that the Ashburton Treaty would likely come to a crisis before Congress adjourned in March, 1843. This related, as it was supposed, to the entire boundary between the United States and the English possessions.
The question had been raised in 1794.—"Where is 'the angle of Nova Scotia,' and where are the 'highlands between the angle and the northwest head of the Connecticut River?'" Time and again it had been before commissioners, and diplomats 102 had many times grown eloquent ​in explaining, but heretofore nothing had come of it. Much was made of it, and yet it was only a dispute as to who owned some twelve thousand and twenty acres of land, much of which was of little value.
Looking back now one wonders at the shortsightedness of statesmen who quarreled for forty-eight years over this garden patch of rocky land in Maine, when three great states were quietly slipping away with scarcely a protest. But this arrival of recruits, and this knowledge of the political situation revealed by General Lovejoy, at once settled Dr. Whitman upon his line of duty.
To Mrs. Whitman he at once explained the situation, and said he felt impelled to go to Washington. She was a missionary's wife, a courageous, true-hearted, patriotic woman, who loved and believed in her husband, and at once consented. Under the rules the local members of the Mission had to be consulted, and runners were at once dispatched to the several stations, and all responded promptly, as the demand was for their immediate presence.
There was a second rule governing such cases of leave of absence, and that was the sanction, from headquarters, of the American Board in Boston. But in this emergency Dr. Whitman preferred to take all the responsibility and cut 103 the red tape. Dr. Eells, one of the noblest of ​the old Missionaries, writes an account of that conference, and it is all the more valuable from the fact that he was opposed to the enterprise.
Dr. Eells says: "The purpose of Dr. Whitman was fixed. In his estimation the saving of Oregon to the United Spates was of paramount importance, and he would make the attempt to do so, even if he had to withdraw from the Mission in order to accomplish his purpose. In reply to considerations intended to hold Dr. Whitman to his assigned work, he said: 'I am not expatriated by becoming a missionary.'
"The idea of his withdrawal could not be entertained. Therefore, to retain him in the Mission, a vote to approve of his making this perilous endeavor prevailed."
In addition to this the Doctor undoubtedly intended to visit the American Board and explain the mission work and its needs, and protest against some of its orders. But in this there was no need of such haste as to cause the mid-winter journey. In this note of Dr. Eells the explanation is doubtless correct.
Dr. Spalding says: "Dr. Whitman's last remarks were, as he mounted his horse for the long journey: 'If the Board dismisses me, I will do what I can to save Oregon to the country. My 104 life is of but little worth if I can save this country to the American people.'"
They all regarded it a most perilous ​undertaking. They knew well of the hardships of such a journey in the summer season, when grass could be found to feed the stock, and men live in comfort in the open air. But to all their pleadings and specifications of danger, Dr. Whitman had but one reply, "I must go." As Dr. Eells says:—"They finally all yielded when he said, 'I will go, even if I have to break my connection with the American Board.'" They all loved him, and he was too valuable a man for them to allow that.
Besides, they became thoroughly convinced that the man and the missionary had received a call from a higher source than an earthly one, and a missionary board should not stand in the way. It was resolved that he must not be allowed to make such a journey alone. A call was at once made, "Who will volunteer to go with him?" Again the unseen power was experienced when General Lovejoy said: "I will go with Dr. Whitman."
The man seems to have been sent for just such a purpose. Aside from the fact that he was tired out with the long five months' ride upon the plains, and had not been fully rested, no better man could have been chosen. He was an educated, Christian gentleman, full of cheerfulness, brave, cautious, and a true friend.
The conference passed a resolution, as stated, giving leave of absence and fixed the time for his starting in "five days" from that day. It was not often they had such an opportunity for letter-carriers, and each began a voluminous correspondence.
The Doctor set about his active preparations, arranging his outfit and seeing that everything was in order. The next day he had a call to see a sick man at old Fort Walla Walla, and as he needed many articles for his journey which could be had there, he went with this double purpose. He found at the Fort a score or more of traders, clerks and leading men of the Hudson Bay Company, assembled there. They were nearly all Englishmen, and the discussion soon turned upon the treaty, and the outlook, and as might be inferred, was not cheering to Whitman. But his object was to gain information and not to argue.
The dinner was soon announced and the Doctor sat down to a royal banquet with his jovial 106 English friends. For no man was more highly esteemed by all than was Whitman. The chief factor at Vancouver, Dr. McLoughlin, from the ​very outset of their acquaintance, took a liking to both the Doctor and Mrs. Whitman, and in hundreds of cases showed them marked and fatherly kindness. Mrs. Whitman, in her diary, recently published in the proceedings of the Oregon State Historical Society, mainly in the years 1891 and 1893, often refers to the fatherly kindness of the good old man whose home she shared for weeks and months, and he begged her when first reaching Oregon to stop all winter and wait until her own humble home could be made comfortable.
But while the company were enjoying their repast, an express messenger of the company arrived from Fort Colville, three hundred and fifty miles up the Columbia, and electrified his audience by the announcement that a colony of one hundred and forty Englishmen and Canadians were on the road.
In such a company it is easy to see such an announcement was exciting news. One young priest threw his cap in the air and shouted, "Hurrah for Oregon—America is too late, we have got the country."
Dr. Whitman carefully concealed all his intentions—in fact, this was enjoined upon all the missionary band, as publicity would likely defeat any 107 hope of good results. Those who will take the pains to read Mrs. Whitman's diary will notice how she avoids saying anything to excite ​comment regarding the purposes of his winter visit to Washington. In her letter to her father and mother she simply says: "I expect my dear husband will be so full of his great work that he will forget to tell you of our life in Oregon. He can explain what it is," etc.
It is said "Women cannot keep a secret," but here is an instance of one that did. In his absence she visited Fort Vancouver, Astoria, Oregon City, and other points. She is painstaking in keeping a regular record of every-day events. But the secret of his mission to the States was perfectly safe with the good wife.
As soon as the Doctor could with politeness excuse himself, he mounted his pony and galloped away home, pondering the news he had received. By the time he reached Waiilatpui he resolved there must be no tarrying for "five days." On the morning of the third day after the conference the spirit was upon him, and he took such messages as were ready, and on October 3d, 1842, bade a long good-bye to his wife and home, and the two men, their guide, and three pack mules, began that ever memorable journey—escorted for a long distance by many Cayuse braves.
Intelligent readers of all classes can easily mark 108 the heroism of such an undertaking under such circumstances, but the old plainsman and the mountaineer who know the terrors of the ​journey, will point to it as without a parallel in all history. It was surmised by most that it was "A ride down to the valley of the shadow of death."
It is comforting and assuring of that power which sustains a believing soul, to turn the pages of the diary of Mrs. Whitman, as day by day she follows the little caravan with thought and prayer, and see with what confidence she expresses the belief that an Almighty Arm is guiding her loved one in safety through all perils.
It is easy to surmise the feelings of the Missionary band when they sent in their letters and messages and learned that the Doctor was far on his journey and had not waited the required limit of "five days."
The echo of dissatisfaction was heard even for years after, very much to the disturbance of the good wife. And she in her diary expresses profound thankfulness when, years after, the last vestige of criticism ceased and the old cordiality was restored.
As for Dr. Whitman, with his whole being impressed with the importance of his work and the need for haste, it is doubtful whether he even remembered the "five days" limit.
The great thought with him was, I must reach 109 Washington before Congress adjourns, or all may be lost. The after disclosures convinced ​the aggrieved Missionaries that Whitman was right, and they deeply regretted some of the sharp criticisms they made and wrote East.
With horses fresh, the little company made a rapid ride, reaching Fort Hall in eleven days. The road thus far was plain and familiar to every member of the party. Prior to leaving home there had been rumors that the Blackfoot Indians had suddenly grown hostile, and would make the journey dangerous along the regular line of travel.
Upon reaching Fort Hall, Captain Grant, who seems to have been placed at that point solely to discourage and defeat immigration, set about his task in the usual way. Without knowing, he shrewdly suspected that the old Missionary had business of importance on hand which it would be well to thwart. He had before had many a tilt with Whitman and knew something of his determination. It was Grant who had almost compelled every incoming settler to forsake his wagon at Fort Hall, sacrifice his goods, and force women and children to ride on horseback or go on foot the balance of the journey.
Six years before he had plead with Whitman to do this, and had failed, and Whitman had thus taken the first wagon into Oregon that ever crossed the Rockies. Now he set about to defeat 110 his journey to the States. He told of the hopelessness of a journey over the ​Rocky Mountains, with snow already twenty feet deep. He also informed him that from recent advices the Sioux and Pawnee Indians were at war, and it would be almost certain death to the party to undertake to pass through their country.
This, all told for a single purpose, was partly true and partly false. The writer, a few years after, when war broke out between the Cheyennes and the Pawnees, passed entirely through the Cheyenne country and was treated with the utmost courtesy and kindness by the Cheyenne braves.
But Captain Grant's argument had more effect upon Whitman than upon a former occasion. The Captain even began to hope that he had effectually blocked the way. But he was dealing with a man of great grit, not easily discouraged, and, we may say it reverently, an inspired man. He had started to go to the States and he would continue his journey.
Captain Grant was at his wits' end. He had no authority to stop Whitman and his party; he carried with him a permit signed by "Lewis Cass, Secretary of War," commanding all in authority to protect, aid, etc.
The American Board was as careful in having all Oregon missionaries armed with such credentials 111 as if sending them to a foreign land, and, in fact, there was no vestige of American government in Oregon in that day. The Hudson ​Bay Company, wholly English, ruled over everything, whether whites or Indians.
Much to Captain Grant's chagrin, Whitman, instead of turning backward, set out southeast to discover a new route to the States. He knew in a general way the lay of the mountain ranges, but he had never heard that a white man's foot had passed that way. First east and south from Fort Hall, in the direction of the now present site of Salt Lake City, from thence to Fort Uintah and Fort Uncompahgra, then to Taos, Santa Fe, to Bent's Fort, and St. Louis. This course led them over some very rough mountainous country.
In his diary Gen. Lovejoy says: "From Fort Hall to Fort Uintah we met with terribly severe weather. The deep snow caused us to lose much time. Here we took a new guide to Fort Uncompahgra on Grand River in Spanish country, which we safely reached and employed a new guide there. Passing over a high mountain on our way to Taos we encountered a terrible snow storm, which compelled us to seek shelter in a dark defile, and although we made several attempts to press on, we were detained some ten days. When we got upon the mountain again we met with another violent snow storm, which almost blinded man and 112 beast. The pelting snow and cold made the dumb brutes well-nigh unmanageable." ​
Finally the guide stopped and acknowledged he was lost and would go no farther, and they resolved to return to their camp in the sheltered ravine. But the drifting snow had obliterated every sign of the path by which they had come, and the guide acknowledged that he could not direct the way. In this dire dilemma, says Gen. Lovejoy, "Dr. Whitman dismounted and upon his knees in the snow commended himself, his distant wife, his missionary companions and work, and his Oregon, to the Infinite One for guidance and protection.
"The lead mule left to himself by the guide, turning his long ears this way and that, finally started plunging through the snow drifts, his Mexican guide and all the party following instead of guiding, the old guide remarking: 'This mule will find the camp if he can live long enough to reach it.' And he did." As woodsmen well know this knowledge of directions in dumb brutes is far superior often to the wisest judgment of men.
The writer well remembers a terrible experience when lost in the great forests of Arkansas, covered with the back water from the Mississippi River, which was rapidly rising. Two of us rode for hours. The water would grow deeper in one direction; we would try another and find it no better; 113 we were hopelessly lost. My companion was an experienced woodsman and claimed that ​he was going in the right direction, so I followed until in despair I called to him, and showed him the high water mark upon the trees ten feet above our heads as we sat upon our horses.
I remarked: "I have followed you; now you follow me. I am going to let my old horse find the way out." I gave him the rein; he seemed to understand it. He raised his head, took an observation, turned at right angles from the way we had insisted was our course, wound around logs and past marshes, and in two hours brought us safely to camp.
This incident of Dr. Whitman's mule, as well as all such, educates one in kindness to all dumb animal life.
Reaching camp the guide at once announced that, "I will go no farther; the way is impossible." "This," says Gen. Lovejoy, "was a terrible blow to Dr. Whitman. He had already lost more than ten days of valuable time." But it would be impossible to move without a guide. Whitman was a man who knew no such word as fail. His order was: "I must go on."
There was but one thing to do. He said to Gen. Lovejoy: "You stay in camp and recuperate and feed the stock, and I will return with the guide to Fort Uncompahgra, and get a new man." 114
And so Lovejoy began "recuperation," and recuperated his dumb animals by collecting the ​brush and inner bark of the willows upon which they fed. It is astonishing how a mule or horse on the plains can find food enough to live on, under such conditions.
The writer had a pet mule in one of his journeys over the great plains, which he would tie to a sage bush near the tent when not a vestige of grass was anywhere in sight, and yet waking up in the night at any hour I would hear Ben pawing and chewing. He would paw up the tender roots of the sage and in the morning look as plump and full as if he had feasted on good No. 2 corn.
"The doctor," says Lovejoy, "was gone just one week, when he again reached our camp in the ravine with a new guide."
The storm abated and they passed over the mountain and made good progress toward Taos.
Their most severe experience was on reaching Grand River. People who know, mark this as one of the most dangerous and treacherous rivers in the West. Its rapid, deep, cold current, even in the Summer, is very much dreaded. Hundreds of people have lost their lives in it. Where they struck the Grand it was about six hundred feet wide. Two hundred feet upon each shore was solid ice, while a rushing torrent two hundred feet wide was between. 115
The guide studied it, and said: "It is too dangerous to attempt to cross." "We must cross, and ​at once," said Whitman. He got down from his horse, cut a willow pole eight feet long, put it upon his shoulder, and after remounting, said: "Now you shove me off." Lovejoy and the guide did as ordered, and the General says: "Both horse and rider temporarily went out of sight, but soon appeared, swimming. The horse struck the rocky bottom and waded toward the shore where the doctor, dismounting, broke the ice with his pole and helped his horse out. Wood was plentiful and he soon had a roaring fire. As readers well know, in a wild country where the lead animal has gone ahead, the rest are eager to follow, regardless of danger, and the General and his guide, after breaking the ice, had no difficulty in persuading their horses and pack-mules to make the plunge into the icy flood. They all landed in safety and spent the day in thoroughly drying out.
"Is the route passable?" asked Napoleon of his engineer. "Barely possible, sire," replied the engineer. "Then let the column move at once," said the Great Commander. The reader, in the incident of the Grand and on the mountains, sees the same hero who refused to believe the "impossible" of Captain Grant, at Fort Hall, and took that "historic wagon" to Oregon. It looked like a small 116 event to take a wagon to Oregon, shattered and battered by the rocks and besetments of the long three thousand mile ​journey. The good wife many times mourned that the doctor should "Wear himself out in getting that wagon through." "Yesterday," she says, "it was overset in the river and he was wet from head to foot getting it out; to-day it was upset on the mountain side, and it was hard work to save it." The dear woman did not know it was an inspired wagon, the very implement upon which the fate of Oregon would turn. Small events are sometimes portentous, and the wagon that Whitman wheeled into Oregon, as we shall soon see, was of this character.
One of the Providential events was, that the little company had been turned aside from the attempt to make the journey over the direct route and sent over this unexplored course, fully one thousand miles longer. The winter of 1842-43 was very cold, and the snow throughout the West was heavy. From many of these storms they were protected by the ranges of high mountains, and what was of great value, had plenty of firewood; while on the other route for a thousand miles they would have had to depend mainly upon buffalo chips for fire, which it would have been impossible to find when the ground was covered with snow. To the traveler good fires in camp are a great comfort. 117
Even as it was, they suffered from the cold, all of them being severely frosted. Dr. ​Whitman, when he reached Washington, was suffering from frozen feet, hands and ears, although he had taken every precaution to protect himself and his companions.
The many vexatious delays had caused not only the loss of valuable time, but they had run out of provisions. A dog had accompanied the party and they ate him; a mule came next, and that kept them until they came to Santa Fe, where there was plenty. Santa Fe is one of the oldest cities upon the continent occupied by English-speaking people. The doctor, anxious for news, could find little there, and only stopped long enough to recruit his supplies. He was in no mood to enjoy the antiquities of this favorite resort of all the heroes of the plains.
Pushing on over the treeless prairies, they made good headway toward Bent's Fort on the headwaters of the Arkansas. The grass for the horses was plentiful. That is one of the prime requisites of the campaigner upon the plains. Had there been time for hunting, all along their route they could have captured any amount of wild game, but as it was, they attempted nothing except it came directly in the way. They even went hungry rather than lose an hour in the chase. 118
There was one little incident which may seem very small, but the old campaigner will see that it was big with importance. They lost ​their axe. It was after a long tedious day crossing a bleak prairie, when they reached one of the tributaries of the Arkansas River. On the opposite side was wood in great plenty. On their side there was none. The river was frozen over with smooth, clear ice, scarcely thick enough to bear a man. They must have wood.
The doctor seized the axe, lay down on the ice and snaked himself across on the thin crust. He cut loads of wood and pushed it before him or skated it across and returned in safety; but unfortunately split the axe helve. This they soon remedied by binding it with a fresh deer skin thong. But as it lay in the edge of the tent that night, a thieving wolf wanting the deer skin, took the axe and all, and they could find no trace of it. The great good fortune was, that such a catastrophe did not occur a thousand miles back. It is barely possible it might have defeated the enterprise.
"When within about four days' journey of Bent's Fort," says Gen. Lovejoy, "we met George Bent, a brother of Gen. Bent, with a caravan on his way to Taos. He told us that a party of mountain men would leave Bent's Fort in a few days 119 for St. Louis, but said we could not reach the fort with our pack animals in time to join the party.
"The doctor being very anxious to join it, and push on to Washington, concluded to leave ​myself and guide with the packs, and he himself taking the best animal, with some bedding and a small allowance of provisions, started on alone, hoping by rapid traveling to reach the fort before the party left. But to do so he would have to travel upon the Sabbath, something we had not done before.
"Myself and guide traveled slowly and reached the fort in four days, but imagine my astonishment when told the doctor had not arrived nor been heard from. As this portion of the journey was infested by gangs of gray wolves, that had been half starved during the snows and cold weather, our anxiety for the doctor's safety was greatly increased. Every night our camp would be surrounded by them coming even to the door of the tent, and everything eatable had to be carefully stored and our animals picketed where we could defend them with our rifles; when a wolf fell he would instantly be devoured by his fellows.
"If not killed we knew the doctor was lost. Being furnished by the gentlemen of the fort with a good guide I started to search for him and traveled up the river about one hundred miles. I learned by the Indians that a man who was lost 120 had been there and he was trying to find Bent's Fort. They said they had directed him down the river and how to find the fort. I knew from their description that it was the doctor, ​and I returned as rapidly as possible; but he had not arrived.
"Late in the afternoon he came in much fatigued and almost desponding. He said that God had hindered him for traveling on the Holy Sabbath." Says General Lovejoy: "This was the only time I ever knew him to travel on Sunday."
The party which the doctor was to accompany to St. Louis had already started, but was kindly stopped by a runner, and it was in camp waiting his coming. Tired as he was, he tarried but a single night at Fort Bent, and again with a guide hurried on to overtake the caravan. This was a dangerous part of the journey. Savage beasts and savage men were both to be feared.
In pioneer days the borders of civilization were always infested by the worst class of people, both whites and Indians. This made the doctor more anxious for an escort. Gen. Lovejoy remained at the fort until he entirely recovered from his fatigue, and went on with the next caravan passing eastward to St. Louis. In a letter to Dr. Atkinson, published in full in the appendix to this volume, Gen. Lovejoy recites many interesting incidents of this journey. Before reaching St. Louis, 121 Gen. Lovejoy immediately began to advertise the emigration for the following May. ​
Dr. Barrows, in his fine volume, "Oregon—the Struggle for Possession," says: "Upon the arrival of Dr. Whitman in St. Louis it was my good fortune that he should be quartered as a guest under the same roof and at the same table with me. Those interested in the news from the plains, the trappers and traders in furs and Indian goods, gathered about him and beset him with a multitude of questions. Answering them courteously he in turn asked about Congress. Whether the Ashburton Treaty had been concluded? and whether it covered the Northwest Territory? The treaty he learned had been signed August 9th, long before he left Oregon, and had been confirmed by the Senate and signed by the President on November 10th, while he was floundering in the snow upon the mountains."
But the Oregon question was still open, and only the few acres up in Maine had been fixed. The question he was eager to have answered was: "Is the Oregon question still pending, and can I get there before Congress adjourns?" The river was frozen, and he had to depend upon the stage, and even from St. Louis a journey to Washington in midwinter at that time, was no small matter. But to a man like Whitman with muscles trained, and 122 a brain which never seemed to tire, it was counted as nothing.
Dr. Barrows says: "Marcus Whitman once seen, and in our family circle, telling of his business, ​he had but one, was a man not to be forgotten by the writer. He was of medium height, more compact than spare, a stout shoulder, and large head not much above it, covered with stiff iron gray hair, while his face carried all the moustache and whiskers that four months had been able to put on it. He carried himself awkwardly, though perhaps courteously enough for trappers, Indians, mules and grizzlies, his principal company for six years. He seemed built as a man for whom more stock had been furnished than worked in symmetrically and gracefully.
"There was nothing quick in his motion or speech, and no trace of a fanatic; but under control of a thorough knowledge of his business, and with deep, ardent convictions about it, he was a profound enthusiast. A willful resolution and a tenacious earnestness would impress you as marking the man.
"He wore coarse fur garments with buckskin breeches. He had a buffalo overcoat, with a head hood for emergencies, with fur leggins and boot moccasins. His legs and feet fitted his Mexican stirrups. If my memory is not at fault his entire 123 dress when on the street did not show one inch of woven fabric."
One can easily see that a dress of such kind and upon such a man would attract attention at the National Capital. But the history of the ​event nowhere hints that the old pioneer suffered in any quarter from his lack of fashionable garments. It was before the day of interviewing newspapers, but the men in authority in Washington soon learned of his coming and showed him every courtesy and kindness. He would have been lionized had he encouraged it. But he had not imperiled life for any such purpose. He was, after a four thousand miles ride, there upon a great mission and for business, and time was precious.
Almost in despair he had prayed that he might be enabled to reach the Capital of the Nation and make his plea for his land, Oregon, before it was too late. And here he was. Would he be given an audience? Would he be believed? Would he succeed? These were the questions uppermost in his mind.124