# Eleven years in the Rocky Mountains and a life on the frontier/Chapter 29

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