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Transcriber's note:

The following typographical errors have been corrected:

    Page 48: "... Brouillan, governor of Placentia, who assumed entire
      command, interfered with Iberville's contemplated movements, and
      declared that his own troops, the Canadians, should not accompany
      him on the opening campaign." 'Brouillan' amended from
      'Brouillian'.

    Page 157: "The difficulties of communicating with the Chopunish
      were very great, and if errors occurred it was not astonishing."
      'Chopunish' amended from 'Chopunnish'.

    Page 180: "... well armed and prepared as braves to sell their
      lives dearly; that they should go on, and if the Pawnees opposed,
      the great American father would send other warriors to avenge the
      dead." 'Pawnees' amended from 'Pawness'.

    Page 202: "Most unfortunately, on the chart transmitted to Ross by
      Wilkes, he entered, without distinguishing marks, land between
      longitudes 160 deg. E. and 165 deg. E., near the sixty-sixth parallel ..."
      'parallel' amended from 'paralled'.

    Page 289: "The consensus of opinion in the Lady Franklin expedition
      pointed to Cape Joseph Goode, 80 deg. 14' N., ..." 'consensus' amended
      from 'concensus'.




[Illustration: A. W. Greely]


  _MEN OF ACHIEVEMENT_

  EXPLORERS AND TRAVELLERS


  BY

  GENERAL A. W. GREELY, U.S.A.

  GOLD MEDALLIST OF ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY AND SOCIETE DE
  GEOGRAPHIE, PARIS

  [Illustration]

  NEW YORK

  CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

  1894




  COPYRIGHT, 1893, BY

  CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

  TROW DIRECTORY
  PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY
  NEW YORK




PREFACE


The compiler of a series of sketches of American Explorers and
Travellers experiences at the very outset a serious embarrassment from
the superabundant wealth of original material at his command. The
history of America for two hundred years after the voyage of Joliet has
been the history of courageous, persistent, and successful exploration,
wherein the track of the explorer, instantly serving as a trail for the
pioneer, has speedily broadened into the wagon-road of invading
immigrants.

Explorations and journeys of such an extent as in other and older lands
would have excited praise and merited reward have been so frequent in
this continent as to pass almost unnoticed. Hence the scope of this
modest volume is necessarily confined to explorations of great
importance or peculiar interest, and when made by men of American birth
who are no longer living.

In deference to the author's advisers, two exceptions have been made--Du
Chaillu and Stanley, Americans by adoption--otherwise African
exploration, so wondrously successful in this generation and so fruitful
in its results, would have been unrepresented. Again, the unparalleled
growth and progress of our American republic owes no small debt to the
wealth of physical vigor and strong intellectuality contributed by its
sturdy emigrants. These men, American in idea, purpose, and action,
whose manhood outgrew the slow evolution of freedom in their natal
country, merit recognition. What thousands of other naturalized citizens
have industrially wrought of the wonderful and great in this country,
these selected representatives have equalled in African exploration.

A chronological arrangement appeared best suited to these sketches,
which from Joliet to Fremont exhibit the initiation, growth, and
development of geographic discovery in the interior and western portions
of the United States. Since the sketches rest very largely on original
narratives some current errors at least have been avoided.

Generalization and criticism have been made always with reference to
later exploration, which necessarily enhances or diminishes the
importance of any original work.




CONTENTS

                                                                  PAGE
     I. LOUIS JOLIET, Re-discoverer of the Mississippi,              9

    II. PETER LE MOYNE, SIEUR D'IBERVILLE, Founder of Louisiana,    41

   III. JONATHAN CARVER, the Explorer of Minnesota,                 71

    IV. CAPTAIN ROBERT GRAY, the Discoverer of the Columbia River,  88

     V. CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS AND LIEUT. WILLIAM CLARK, First
          Trans-Continental Explorers of the United States,        105

    VI. ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE, Explorer of the Sources of the
          Mississippi and Arkansas Rivers,                         163

   VII. CHARLES WILKES, the Discoverer of the Antarctic Continent, 194

  VIII. JOHN CHARLES FREMONT, the Pathfinder,                      212

    IX. ELISHA KENT KANE, Arctic Explorer,                         240

     X. ISAAC ISRAEL HAYES, and the Open Polar Sea,                272

    XI. CHARLES FRANCIS HALL, and the North Pole,                  293

   XII. GEORGE WASHINGTON DE LONG, and the Siberian Arctic Ocean,  312

  XIII. PAUL BELLONI DU CHAILLU, Discoverer of the Dwarfs and
          Gorillas,                                                330

   XIV. STANLEY AFRICANUS AND THE CONGO FREE STATE,                349




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


FULL-PAGE
                                                   FACING PAGE
  GENERAL A. W. GREELY, U. S. A.,            (_Frontispiece._)

  ON THE SHORES OF THE PACIFIC,                             96

  A BLACKFOOT TEPEE,                                       112

  CASTLE ROCK, ON THE COLUMBIA RIVER,                      140

  CHARLES WILKES,                                          194

  PAUL BELLONI DU CHAILLU,                                 330

  HENRY M. STANLEY,                                        349


ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT
                                                          PAGE
  SIGNATURE OF JOLLIET (OLD SPELLING),                      10

  "MARQUETTE'S MAP,"                                        15

  THE RECEPTION OF JOLIET AND MARQUETTE BY THE ILLINOIS,    25

  DE SOTO,                                                  34

  SIGNATURE OF LE MOYNE,                                    42

  BIENVILLE,                                                57

  BIENVILLE'S ARMY ON THE RIVER,                            63

  NEW ORLEANS IN 1719,                                      70

  INDIAN TOMAHAWK,                                          74

  THE FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY IN THE RIVER MISSISSIPPI,        77

  A CALUMET,                                                80

  NAUDOWESSIE INDIANS,                                      85

  INDIAN MAUL,                                              93

  CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS,                                119

  BUFFALO HEAD,                                            125

  LIEUTENANT WILLIAM CLARK,                                132

  BUFFALO SKULL,                                           162

  GENERAL Z. M. PIKE,                                      165

  INDIAN SNOW-SHOES,                                       172

  THE ICE-BARRIER,                                         199

  THE VINCENNES IN A STORM,                                202

  VIEW OF THE ANTARCTIC CONTINENT,                         205

  IN AN ICE-FIELD,                                         208

  JOHN CHARLES FREMONT,                                    214

  JESSIE BENTON FREMONT,                                   215

  ASCENDING FREMONT'S PEAK,                                218

  KIT CARSON,                                              226

  LAKE KLAMATH,                                            231

  ELISHA KENT KANE,                                        242

  THE ARCTIC HIGHWAY,                                      246

  A SLEEPING-BAG FOR THREE MEN,                            251

  THE COMING ARCTIC NIGHT,                                 256

  ESQUIMAU BOYS FISHING,                                   260

  AN ARCTIC STREAM,                                        264

  ISAAC ISRAEL HAYES,                                      273

  UPERNIVIK,                                               276

  HAYES'S WINTER-QUARTERS,                                 280

  ADRIFT ON A BERG,                                        285

  CHARLES FRANCIS HALL,                                    294

  IGLOOS, OR ESQUIMAU HUTS,                                299

  IN WINTER-QUARTERS,                                      302

  AN ARCTIC FIORD,                                         305

  A WOMAN OF THE ARCTIC HIGHLANDERS. SKETCHED FROM LIFE,   308

  ESQUIMAU WOMAN. SKETCHED FROM LIFE,                      310

  GEORGE WASHINGTON DE LONG,                               313

  HERALD ISLAND,                                           317

  IN THE PACK,                                             321

  WHERE THE BODIES WERE FOUND,                             323

  NOROS AND NINDEMANN,                                     326

  FINDING THE BODIES,                                      328

  THE GORILLA (TROGLODYTES GORILLA),                       334

  A VILLAGE OF DWARFS,                                     339

  A PIGMY WARRIOR,                                         342

  A DWARF PRISONER,                                        345

  ARROWS OF THE AFRICAN PIGMIES,                           348

  THE HUT WHERE LIVINGSTONE DIED,                          352

  MAP SHOWING POSITION AND BOUNDARIES OF THE CONGO STATE,  355

  TIPPU TIB,                                               359

  EMIN PASHA,                                              363

  FINDING NELSON IN DISTRESS AT STARVATION CAMP,           366

  A STOCKADED CAMP,                                        370

  RUWENZORI (THE SNOWY MOUNTAIN), IDENTIFIED BY STANLEY
    WITH "THE MOUNTAINS OF THE MOON,"                      372




EXPLORERS AND TRAVELLERS

I.

LOUIS JOLIET,

RE-DISCOVERER OF THE MISSISSIPPI.


If one should ask which is the most important river basin in the world,
there is no doubt that the Mississippi would be named, with its million
and a quarter square miles of area and its twenty-five or more billions
of aggregated wealth. Favored in climate, soil, and navigable streams,
and endowed with practically inexhaustible veins of coal, copper, iron,
and silver, feeding the world with its hundreds of millions of bushels
of corn and wheat, and clothing it by other millions of bales of cotton,
it is hardly so astonishing that within 217 years from its discovery by
Joliet this greatest of river basins should be the abiding-place of
twenty-seven and a half millions of people.

Speaking of Joliet, Bancroft wrote that his short voyage brought him
immortality; but in the irony of fate his explorations have not even
given his name a place in the last edition of the Encyclopaedia
Britannica. In writing on American explorers, it seems most fitting that
this series of sketches should be headed by this Canadian, whose name
is scarcely known by one in a thousand. That aught is obtainable
concerning the details of his life is due to the investigations of Shea,
which later were admirably summed up by Parkman.

[Illustration: Signature of Jolliet (Old Spelling).]

Louis Joliet, the son of John Joliet and Mary d'Abancour, was born at
Quebec, September 21, 1645. His father was a wagon-maker, in the service
of the Company of One Hundred Associates, then owners of Canada.

The son in youth was imbued with devout feelings, which, possibly
fostered by the elder Joliet as certain to bring station and influence
in manhood, led to his being educated in the Jesuit College for the
priesthood, in which indeed he received the minor orders in 1662. Four
years later, in the debates on philosophy, which were participated in by
the Intendant and listened to by the colonial dignitaries, Joliet showed
such skill as to elicit especial commendation from the Fathers.

His future career shows that his studies with the Fathers were not lost
on him, and doubtless they contributed largely to make Joliet that
intelligent, well-poised leader who filled with credit all duties and
positions incident to his varied and adventurous life.

It is probable, however, that during all these years he was at heart a
true voyageur, and that his thoughts turned continually from the
cloister and books to the forest and its attractive life. Be this as it
may, he practically abandoned all ideas of the priesthood at the age of
twenty-two, and turned to the most certain, and indeed, in Canada, the
only path to wealth, that of a trader in furs with the Indians. In this
trade only the hardy, shrewd, intelligent, and tireless subordinate
could hope to thrive and rise. Success meant long and hazardous journeys
into the very heart of the Indian country, where were needed great
physical courage and strength, perfect skill with gun, paddle, axe,
sledge, or snow-shoe, a thorough knowledge of wood-craft, indomitable
will or casuistry and tact according to the occasion. To paddle a canoe
from sunrise to sunset of a summer day, to follow the sledge or break a
snow-shoe path before it as far as a dog can travel in a march, to track
a moose or deer for leagues without rest, to carry canoes and heavy
packs over long portages through an untravelled country, were the
ordinary experiences of a voyageur, which were accomplished for the
great part on a diet of smoked meat and boiled Indian corn, with no
shelter in fair weather and the cover of an upturned canoe or bark hut
in stress of storm.

Joliet did not long remain in private adventure, for in 1669 Talon, then
Intendant of Canada, sent him to discover and explore the copper-mines
of Lake Superior, in which quest he failed. It was on his return trip
that Joliet met with La Salle and the priests Dolier and Galinee, on
September 24, 1669, near the present town of Hamilton, in which
direction Joliet's Indian guide had misled him when returning from Lake
Erie, through fear of meeting enemies at the Niagara portage.

Joliet's facility for map-making in the field is evident from the fact
that at this time he showed to the priests with La Salle a copy of the
map that he had made of such parts of the upper lakes as he had visited,
and gave them a copy of it. He moreover evidenced continued interest in
religious matters by telling them that the Pottowattamies and other
Indian tribes of that region were in serious need of spiritual succor.
La Salle later, in November, 1680, repaid this frank tender of
information of the little-known west by intimating his belief that
Joliet never went but little south of the mouth of the Illinois, and is
also stated to have declared that Joliet was an impostor.

In his account of La Salle's last journey, Father Douay, referring to
Joliet's discoveries as related by Marquette, says: "I have brought with
me the printed book of this pretended discovery, and I remarked all
along my route that there was not a word of truth in it."

The efforts to deprive Joliet of the credit of the original discovery of
the Mississippi falls before the despatch of Count Frontenac to Colbert,
then Minister, dated Quebec, November 14, 1674: "VI. Sieur Joliet, whom
Monsieur Talon advised me, on my arrival from France, to despatch for
the discovery of the South Sea, has returned three months ago, and
discovered some very fine country, and a navigation so easy through the
beautiful rivers he has found, that a person can go from Lake Ontario
and Fort Frontenac in a bark to the Gulf of Mexico, there being only one
carrying-place, half a league in length, where Lake Ontario communicates
with Lake Erie.... He has been within ten days of the Gulf of Mexico....
I send you by my secretary the map he has made of it.... He has lost all
his minutes and journals in the shipwreck he suffered in sight of
Montreal.... He left with the Fathers at Sault St. Marie copies of his
journal."

But to return to the circumstances under which Joliet made the voyage.
Among other orders of Louis XIV. regarding Canada was a charge to
discover the South Sea and Mississippi, and Jean Talon, Intendant of
Canada, lost no chance of furthering this object. La Salle's journey of
1670 had failed to reach the great river, though he descended the Ohio
to the falls at Louisville, and at his recall in 1672 Talon had the
subject of further exploration in hand. Joliet had lately returned from
his unsuccessful efforts to discover copper mines on Lake Superior,
during which he had probably been the first white man to pass through
the Straits of Detroit. Despite his late failure he had impressed Talon
as the man best fitted to lead such an expedition, and so before sailing
for France the Intendant recommended Joliet for the work to Count
Frontenac, the new Governor.

In those days the Church and Government went hand in hand, and but few
French expeditions went westward from Montreal without a priest to carry
the faith to such Indian tribes as were allies of France or liable to be
won over. As Joliet's priest-associate, James Marquette, a young Jesuit,
then a missionary at St. Esprit, La Pointe, Lake Superior, was chosen.

No better man could have been sent. Marquette was in the prime of life,
an expert linguist--as he had learned in six years to speak fluently six
Indian languages--gentle, patient, and tactful with the natives, devout
in faith, singularly holy in life, fearless, imaginative, nature-loving
and observant, as shown by his journal, which, owing to Joliet's
shipwreck, is the only original story of the voyage. His enthusiasm is
shown by the opening sentences of his journal: "I have obtained from God
the favor of being enabled to visit the nations on the Mississippi
River, ... and find myself in the happy necessity of exposing my life
for the salvation of all these tribes, especially the Illinois."

Joliet followed the St. Lawrence to Fort Frontenac, at the entrance of
Lake Ontario, and with the exception of the portage at the Falls of
Niagara, skirted in his canoe the shores of the Great Lakes until he
reached the Straits of Mackinaw, on the north side of which, at Point
St. Ignace, he found the enthusiastic Marquette devotedly laboring for
the spiritual welfare of the Hurons and Ottawas there gathered.

[Illustration: A Part of the Map Published in Paris by Thevenot as
"Marquette's Map." It shows the route taken by Joliet across Wisconsin
from the Baie des Puans (now Green Bay) to the Mississippi River, also
part of the return journey, that is, from the present site of Chicago,
northward along Lake Michigan.]

The contemplated line of travel was that of Jean Nicollet, an
interpreter who had spent many years with the Indian tribes, who was
sent in 1638 to bring about a peace between the Hurons and Winnebagoes
who lived near Green Bay. After his negotiations he ascended the Fox
River, and making a portage to the Wisconsin, descended that stream some
distance, so that, as he thought, from the designation of "the great
water" by the Indian guide to the Mississippi, he was within three days
of the South Sea.

Joliet, however, was too practical to trust entirely to tradition or
oral description. He had already carefully charted all that was
definitely known of the western lake regions, and now at St. Ignace,
with Marquette's invaluable assistance, gathered all possible
information from such Indians at the mission as had frequented the
unknown country. This information being duly weighed and considered,
Joliet extended his map to cover all the new country, marking thereon
the navigable rivers, the names of nations and villages along their
proposed route, the course of the great river, and other useful
information.

Their means of subsistence and travel were the simplest imaginable, two
canoes and as large quantities of smoked meat and Indian corn as could
be conveniently carried. Their canoes were of the usual Canadian
pattern, of birch-bark covering, stayed with spruce-root ribs and
cedar-splint, with white-pine pitch smeared over the birch-bark joints
so as to render them water-tight. Such canoes were of astonishing
strength and carrying capacity, and of such lightness that four men
could carry the largest across portages.

On a bright spring morning, May 17th, Joliet and Marquette, with five
other men, left behind them the palisaded post and chapel of St. Ignace.
Plying briskly their paddles from sunrise to sunset, they made rapid
progress, coasting the lake shore until they turned aside to visit the
Menominees, or Wild-rice Indians, whose village was on the river of that
same name. Here inquiries for information of the "great river" brought
from the savage allies strenuous efforts to dissuade them from visiting
this Mississippi, where, they said, the unsparing ferocity of the tribes
brought unfailing death by the tomahawk to even inoffensive strangers,
and that war now raged among the intervening nations. They further
recited the dangers of navigating the rapids of the Great River, the
presence of frightful water monsters who swallowed up men and canoes,
the roaring demon who engulfed all travellers, and lastly the existence
of such excessive heat as to ensure certain death. After religious
instruction and service the explorers embarked in their canoes and soon
reached the southern extremity of Green Bay, where, says Marquette, "our
fathers labor successfully in the conversion of these tribes, having
baptized more than 2,000."

Joliet from Green Bay entered Fox River, finding it a gentle, beautiful
stream, promising easy and pleasant passage and abounding in wildfowl.
Soon, however, these agreeable aspects gave way to the sterner phases of
exploration, for sharp rapids were fallen in with where the strong and
uncertain cross-currents often threatened the total destruction of their
frail canoes, which would have proved fatal to their plans, by dashing
them against the sharp bowlders.

A serious but lesser evil to these enduring voyagers was the injury to
their mocassin-shod feet, which were cut and bruised by the sharp edges
of the rocky bed of the river over which they slowly and painfully
dragged their canoes for long distances.

The many rapids were safely passed, and on the 7th of June, 1673, our
explorers reached an Indian town which marked the extreme western limits
of French discoveries, being the farthest point reached by Nicollet in
his adventurous journey.

In this town dwelt bands from three different tribes, the Miamis,
Maskoutens, or Fire Nation, and Kickapoos. The latter two were inferior
in manners and appearance to the Miamis, who, more civil, liberal, and
well-made, wore two long ear-locks that Marquette thought becoming;
besides they were reputed warriors, who rarely failed in their forays.
They proved docile, attentive, and interested in religious matters, as
was shown not only by their talk with Father Allouez, but also by a
cross standing in the centre of the town, which was adorned with votive
offerings of skins, belts, bows and arrows to the Great Manitou for an
abundance of game during the dreaded famine time of winter.

The Indians used for their beds mats, probably made of rushes, which in
default of bark also served as material for the walls and roofs of
their unsubstantial shelters. Since Marquette refers to the advantage of
such building material as capable of being rolled up and easily moved
during hunts, it is probable that this town was of a temporary
character. It appears to have been well located, being on an eminence,
whence the approach of an enemy or the presence of game could be readily
observed in the open country. Marquette says of it: "The view is
beautiful and very picturesque, for from the eminence on which it is
perched are seen stretching out on every side, as far as eye can reach,
prairies broken by thickets or groves of lofty trees." The Indians grew
much corn, and gathered wild plums and "grapes, from which," his
thoughts turning to home, he says, "good wine could be made if they
chose."

Joliet lost no time, but immediately on arrival assembled the sachems
and told them that he was sent by his Governor to discover new
countries. He made them a present and asked that two guides be sent to
show him the way, which resulted in the gift to Joliet of a mat to serve
as a bed, and the sending of two Miamis as guides.

The next day, June 10th, they proceeded, two Miamis and seven Frenchmen
in two canoes, up the river to the portage, through a net-work of
marshes, little lakes, and meandering channels so hidden by the wild
rice that their guides were very useful. Conducting Joliet to a portage
of 2,700 paces, and assisting in the transportation of the canoes across
it, the Miamis then returned, leaving the explorers "alone in an
unknown country, in the hands of Providence."

Before launching their canoes into strange waters, which were to bear
them into unknown lands, they knelt on the bank and offered up devout
aspirations to God for continued success. The new river was the
Weskousing (Wisconsin), whose broad shallows and sandy bottom, while
rendering navigation slow and very laborious, yet contrasted
delightfully with the rocky rapids of the Fox.

Father Marquette sets forth delightfully the ideal voyage down this
stream, past vine-clad islets, along sloping banks, now bordered by the
lovely prairie, with its sweet odors of fresh grasses and blooming
flowers, and anon fringed by the primeval forest, beautiful with its
tangle of shrubbery and in its June foliage. The gnarled oak, the
straight walnut, the elegant whitewood, and other stately trees of
unknown species met their vision at times, while again their eyes
scarcely separated from the heavens the distant horizon of the green
level plains, whose luxuriant vegetation afforded the richest pasturage
for numerous herds of deer and moose, and in spots showed the fertility
of its alluvial soil by the fields of Indian corn.

Each morning, before they relaunched their canoes, they attuned their
voices to the praise of God, and, in their unique joy of successful
discovery, must have felt on those delightful June days that their
devotions had not been uplifted in vain. From sunrise to sunset they
labored unceasingly, now paddling briskly along the deep reaches, and
then struggling stoutly through mazes of shallows and sand-bars, where
tedious and frequent portages were patiently made.

Each evening their hearts rejoiced and their tired limbs found
delightful repose at some spot where Joliet's judgment directed the
canoes to be drawn out, inspected, and upturned by some, while others
started the camp-fire and prepared the evening meal. This camp was
always so placed that the approach of an enemy could be seen from afar,
and where fuel for fire and branches for bedding were at hand. The best
hunter was told off for game, and rarely did the meal lack fresh meat or
fruit and berries in season. After supper the soothing pipe, prayers and
songs of praise, and then under the over-arching trees such sound
slumber as only comes to men sleeping under the open sky.

As they advanced it was often possible to use sail and relieve the men
to some extent from the fatigue of the paddle, and such rapid progress
was made that, on June 17th, they safely entered the long-desired
Mississippi, "with a joy," writes Marquette, "which I cannot express."
They were then in latitude 43 deg. 03' N., opposite the site of the present
city of Prairie du Chien.

Turning eagerly southward, their progress facilitated by the gentle
current of the Mississippi, they journeyed more than a hundred leagues
without seeing on the land aught save birds and beasts. The solitude of
the great river appalled them: a vast torrent of rolling water,
bordered by forest and plain, so well fitted for the happiness of man,
and yet no human being in all this land! What could it mean, and what
would be the outcome? Joliet, of long experience with savage tribes, and
astute in forest craft, distrusted the silence and solitude, and kept as
keen guard as though on the war-path. A tiny camp-fire was built only
for meals, and the nights were passed in the crowded canoes as far from
shore as it was possible to anchor them in the deep river. Even then
strict watch was kept, and every strange or unusual noise excited
feelings of trepidation lest a hidden foe be the cause.

Their journey by day was not entirely devoid of incident and excitement,
says Marquette. "From time to time we met monstrous fishes, one of which
struck the canoe so violently I took it for a large tree. Another time
we perceived on the water a monster [probably an American tiger-cat]
with a head like a tiger and a pointed snout like the wild-cat, with
beard and ears erect, a grayish head, and entirely black neck." They
cast their nets successfully, and once caught a spade-fish, whose
appearance caused much astonishment. In 41 deg. 28' N. latitude (near Rock
Island), wild turkeys took the place of wild fowl; while as to animals,
only buffalo were seen, being so numerous and fearless as to be easily
killed, and thus offering a welcome change of food. These new beasts
presented themselves to our explorers as hideous, especially those with
thick, long manes falling over their eyes in such tangles as to prevent
their seeing clearly. Marquette records that the Indians tan
buffalo-skins into beautiful robes, which they paint into various
colors; and further recites the ferocity of the buffalo as yearly
causing the death of some Indian. When near the present city of Keokuk,
at the mouth of the Des Moines River, on June 25th, they perceived the
first signs of man in all this solitude: foot-prints by the riverside,
and then a beaten path, which, entering a beautiful prairie, impressed
them as leading to some Indian village.

They had journeyed seventeen days without seeing the face of man, and
so, after deliberation, they resolved to visit the village; this
decision doubtless being urged by Marquette, who for years had sought by
prayer "to obtain of God the grace to be able to visit the nations on
the river Mississippi," and who now would allow no danger to deter him.
Joliet was fully aware of the great risk, and took most careful
precautions to ensure the safety of their canoes and people by charging
them strictly to beware of surprise, while he and Marquette ventured to
put themselves at the discretion of an unknown savage people. Cautiously
following the little path in silence across the beautiful prairie and
through the thickets for a distance of two leagues, they suddenly came
in view of an Indian village, picturesquely placed on a river bank, and
overlooked by two others on a neighboring hill; they pressed on with
successful caution and silence, but with much doubt and fear. Having,
as Marquette says, "recommended ourselves to God with all our hearts,"
and "having implored his help, we passed on undiscovered, and came so
near we even heard the Indians talking." Stepping into the open, they
halted and announced themselves by a loud cry; at which the Indians
rushed out of their cabins, and recognizing them as French, and seeing a
"Blackgown" (the well-known Indian name for a Jesuit), sent four of
their chief warriors forward. Two chiefs, carrying calumets, or
tobacco-pipes, elaborately trimmed with various feathers, advanced very
slowly and in silence, lifting their calumets as if offering them for
the sun to smoke. Marquette, encouraged by their friendly attitude, and
still more on seeing that they wore French cloth, broke the silence; to
which the Indians answered that they were Illinois, who, in token of
peace, presented their pipes to smoke and invited the strangers to their
village.

[Illustration: The Reception of Joliet and Marquette by the Illinois.]

Joliet and Marquette were received at the door of a wigwam, as was usual
for strangers, by an old chief, who stood perfectly naked, with
outstretched hands raised toward the sun, as if to screen himself from
its rays, which nevertheless passed through the open fingers to his
face. As they came near him, he said: "How beautiful is the sun, O
Frenchmen, when thou comest to visit us. All our town awaits thee, and
thou shalt enter all our cabins in peace." After smoking the calumet,
they went by invitation to visit the Great Sachem of all Illinois, at a
near village. With good nature and childish curiosity, a throng of
Indians went along, and says Marquette, "could not tire looking at us;
they threw themselves on the grass by the wayside; they ran ahead, then
turned and walked back to see us again, all in silence, with marks of
great respect." They were received by the Great Sachem and two old
chiefs, all naked and with their calumet turned to the sun. After
smoking the calumet, Marquette, speaking in Algonquin, said that they
marched in peace to visit the nations on the river to the sea; that God
their Creator had pity, and had sent his messenger to make him known as
their Creator, whom they should acknowledge and obey; that Frontenac had
spread peace everywhere; and last asked for all the information they had
of the sea and the nations between them and it.

The Sachem answered in a beautiful speech worthy of the occasion:

"I thank thee, Blackgown, and thee, Frenchman," addressing M. Joliet,
"for taking so much pains to come and visit us; never has the earth been
so beautiful, nor the sun so bright, as to-day; never has our river been
so calm, nor so free from rocks, which your canoes have removed as they
passed; never has our tobacco had so fine a flavor, nor our corn
appeared so beautiful as we behold it to day. Here is my son, that I
give thee, that thou mayst know my heart. I pray thee to take pity on me
and all my nation. Thou knowest the Great Spirit, who has made us all;
thou speakest to him and hearest his words: ask him to give me life and
health, and come and dwell with us, that we may know him."

It is interesting to note the condition of the Illinois when first
visited. Their chiefs wore over the left shoulder a belt, ingeniously
made of the hair of bear and buffalo, which passed around the waist and
ended in a long fringe; arm, knee, and wrist bands of deer or
buffalo-skin, and the rattles of deer hoofs were also worn, and the face
was painted with red ochre. In addition to abundant game, they raised
beans, melons, squashes, and Indian corn. Their dishes were of wood,
their spoons of the bones of buffalo, their knives stone, their arms,
bows and arrows with an occasional gun bought from other tribes.

The word calumet is due to Father Marquette, and his description of this
interesting Indian pipe and its uses among the Indians over two hundred
years ago is best given in his own words:

"It now remains for me to speak of the calumet, than which there is
nothing among them more mysterious or more esteemed. Men do not pay to
the crowns and sceptres of kings the honor they pay to it. It seems to
be the god of peace and war, the arbiter of life and death. Carry it
about you and show it, and you can march fearlessly amid enemies, who
even in the heat of battle lay down their arms when it is shown. Hence
the Illinois gave me one, to serve as my safeguard amid all the nations
that I had to pass on my voyage. There is a calumet for peace and one
for war, distinguished only by the color of the feathers with which they
are adorned, red being the sign of war. They use them also for settling
disputes, strengthening alliances, and speaking to strangers. It is
made of a polished red stone, like marble, so pierced that one end
serves to hold the tobacco, while the other is fastened on the stem,
which is a stick two feet long, as thick as a common cane, and pierced
in the middle; it is ornamented with the head and neck of different
birds of beautiful plumage; they also add large feathers of red and
green and other colors, with which it is all covered. They esteem it
peculiarly, because they regard it as the calumet, or pipe, of the sun;
and, in fact, they present it to him to smoke when they wish to obtain
calm, or rain, or fair weather."

Leaving the Illinois one afternoon, about the end of June, they embarked
in sight of the whole admiring tribe, and, following the river, reached
the mouth of the muddy Missouri. They were the first white men who had
ever gazed on the turbulent waters of this mighty stream. Impressed by
the size and majesty of the Missouri Marquette believed and hoped that
later, by making a prairie portage of twenty or thirty leagues, he could
reach a deep westerly running river that would carry him to the Red Sea
(the Gulf of California).

The Missouri, or Pekitanoui, as Marquette called it, was evidently at
the flood stage, for he says: "A mass of large trees, entire with
branches, real floating islands, came rushing from the mouth of the
river so impetuously that we could not pass across without exposing
ourselves to great danger. The agitation was so great that the water was
all muddy."

Immediately above the site of Alton, Ill., they came in sight of the
famous Piasa pictograph, which was totally destroyed about fifty years
ago. Of it Marquette wrote: "As we coasted along rocks, frightful for
their height and length, we saw painted thereon two monsters, which
startled us at first, and on which the boldest Indian dare not gaze
long. They have a fearful look, are as large as a calf, have red eyes,
the horns of a deer, the beard of a tiger, and the face of a man, while
around the scale-covered body was a fish's tail twice encircling it. The
two monsters were very well painted in green, red, and black colors, and
so high upon the rocks that they were apparently inaccessible to man."

Later they discovered a very rich iron-mine of many veins, one a foot
thick, and large masses of metal combined with pebbles; also purple,
violet, and red clay, which  the water a blood red. They now
passed the dreaded home of the Manitou, or demon, who devours all who
pass; which proved to be a frightful rapid where large detached rocks
and a narrow channel caused a furious commotion of the waters tumbling
over each other, and a tremendous roaring, which struck terror to the
Indian's heart. Passing this, they reached the mouth of the Ohio, which
Marquette calls "Ouaboukidou," on which there were no less than
thirty-eight villages of the Chaouanons (Shawnees). A little beyond,
Marquette's eye was delighted by the appearance of breaks, wherein the
canes were of an exquisite green, with knots crowned by long,
narrow-pointed leaves. At every landing the keen eyes of the Canadian
explorers searched out everything that was new or that seemed suitable
for food; so we find the persimmon and the chicopin and other fruits and
nuts described in detail.

By this time, in early July, they found themselves suffering from the
double annoyance of mosquitoes and the excessive and insupportable heat
of the sun, from which they sheltered themselves as best they could by
making a kind of cabin with their sails, while their canoes were borne
on by the current.

Finally they perceived on the river-bank Indians armed with guns, who
awaited their approach. Joliet, ready either for peace or war, put
Marquette forward with his feathered peace calumet upraised, while the
rest stood to arms, ready to fire on the first volley of the savages.
Marquette hailed them in Huron, and the party was not only peacefully
received, but invited to their village and presented with food of
various kinds. Joliet found among them guns, axes, hoes, powder, etc.,
and was assured that they bought cloth and other articles from Europeans
to the east, doubtless the Spaniards of Florida. Marquette was troubled
to find they had received no instruction in the faith, which, as far as
he could, he gave them.

Being assured that the sea was not more than ten days' journey distant,
they were greatly encouraged, and instead of drifting with the current,
took up their paddles with renewed ardor.

Passing beyond the prairie land, they found both sides of the river
lined with dense woods, wherein the cottonwood, elm, and white-wood were
of such height and size as to excite their admiration. That the forests
were not dense seemed evident from the bellowing of cattle behind the
fringe of trees, which were enlivened for our travellers by flocks of
quail along the water's edge and an occasional parrot with its brilliant
coloring of red, yellow, and green.

Nearing the mouth of the Arkansas, they saw on the river-bank an Indian
village called Mithiganea, near which Joliet and his party had an
exciting and fearful experience, which Marquette thus describes:

"We heard from afar the Indians exciting one another to the combat by
continual yells. They were armed with bows, arrows, axes, war-clubs, and
bucklers, and prepared to attack us by land and water. Some embarked in
large wooden canoes, a part to ascend, the rest to descend, the river,
so as to cut our way and surround us completely. Those on shore kept
going and coming, as if about to begin the attack. In fact, some young
men sprang into the water to come and seize my canoe, but the current
having compelled them to return to the shore, one of them threw his war
club at us, but it passed over our heads without doing us any harm. In
vain I showed the calumet, and made gestures to explain that we had not
come as enemies. The alarm continued, and they were about to pierce us
from all sides with their arrows, when God suddenly touched the hearts
of the old men on the water side, doubtless at the sight of our calumet,
which at the distance they had not distinguished; but as I showed it
continually, they were touched, restrained the ardor of their youth, and
two of the chiefs, having thrown their bows and quivers into our canoe,
and as it were at our feet, entered and brought us to the shore, where
we disembarked, not without fear on our part."

An old chief was at last found who spoke a little Illinois, and through
him they were told that they could get full information regarding the
sea at another great village called Akamsea, about ten leagues down the
river. Presents were exchanged and the night passed among them with some
uneasiness. The loving missionary spirit of Marquette is shown here for,
he says: "I know not whether they understood what I told them of God and
the things which concerned their salvation. It is a seed cast in the
earth which will bear its fruit in season."

At Akamsea (Arkansas) they were received by the sachem holding up a
peace calumet, after which they had the customary smoke and a repast of
different dishes made of Indian corn. Presents were interchanged and
speeches made through a young Indian who understood Illinois. The whole
day was spent in feasting, and the dishes of Indian corn were
continuously supplemented by pieces of dog flesh.

Joliet and Marquette learned from them that the sea was only ten days'
journey distant for the Indians, which meant five days for our explorers
in their birch canoes. They further set forth the very great danger of
passing on, owing to the continual war parties moving along the river. A
secret council of the sachems with a view to killing the party for
plunder was only broken up through the influence of the chief, who,
sending for the explorers, danced a calumet dance as a mark of perfect
assurance, and then to remove all fears, presented his peace calumet to
Marquette as a guarantee of safety.

The famous calumet dance is performed only on important occasions--to
strengthen peace, for a war assembly, at public rejoicings, and in honor
of important personages or invited strangers. The principal features
are, first, a dance; second, a mock combat; third, a self-laudatory
speech, during all of which the pipe plays an important part, being
smoked and handled to the measured cadence of voices and drums.

Joliet and Marquette now took counsel together as to whether they should
continue their voyage in face of such adverse conditions or turn back.
Finally, after long and careful consideration it was decided to return.

They realized that in their present latitude, 33 deg. 40' N., they could not
be more than two or three days from the sea, and that the Mississippi,
by its general course, undoubtedly flowed into the Gulf of Mexico, and
not into the South Sea through California.

Neglecting the dangers from warlike Indians along the lower river, they
considered, moreover, that they risked losing the fruit of this voyage
if they should throw themselves into the hands of the Spaniards, who
would at least imprison them.

[Illustration: De Soto.]

Joliet's farthest was on the east bank, opposite a river, probably the
Arkansas, and could not have been far from the point where De Soto more
than a hundred years before, in April, 1541, reached the Mississippi.
What a contrast between the means and experiences of these two
explorers! De Soto, a noble Spaniard, with an armament of ten vessels
equipped with all the paraphernalia of war, having, with three hundred
and fifty horsemen, a thousand picked men in mail who had been chosen
from the flower of the Spanish and Portuguese nobility. His followers
were animated by ambition, eager seekers for wealth and power, their
track marked by fire and sword, their action often treacherous and
always characterized by the savageness of their age. They reaped the
natural harvest, and although they reached the Mississippi, yet constant
warfare, continued privations, toil, and disasters had sadly wasted
their strength and numbers, and finally not one man in four ever reached
again a Spanish settlement. Joliet, an American of humble birth, with
two frail canoes equipped only with an ordinary hunting outfit, had six
followers who, inspired by neither hope of gold nor desire of conquest
other than that of a spiritual kind, came with peace and confidence,
were received by all tribes with hospitality, and returned to their own
without harm or contumely.

The result of De Soto's work was an unprofitable, soon-forgotten
discovery, utterly barren of results. Joliet reduced the fables of the
Indians to facts, discovered the muddy Missouri, and what is more, gave
definite knowledge to the world of the fertile valleys of the
Mississippi basin, wherein he planted the first germs of civilization,
which speedily took the practical form of missions and settlements.

After a day's rest, Joliet and his party left Akamsea July 17th, and
tediously retraced their course against the strong currents of the
Mississippi. Through the advice of the Indians they quitted the great
river at the mouth of the Illinois, which greatly shortened their way
and brought them with little trouble to the present site of Chicago,
they passing on the way through an Illinois town, Kaskaskia, of
seventy-four cabins, from which an escort of braves guided them to Lake
Michigan.

Marquette appears to have had a prophetic eye for the great future of
the present State of Illinois, for he says, "We have seen nothing like
this river for the fertility of the land, its prairies, woods, wild
cattle, deer, wild-cats, bustards, swans, ducks, parrots, and even
beaver; its many little lakes and rivers."

Coasting the shores of Lake Michigan, the end of September, 1673,
brought them to Green Bay, where the rude comforts of a frontier mission
and the solace of friendly intercourse were once more theirs. They had
been absent four months, and in that time had paddled their frail canoes
more than twenty-five hundred miles. Here Marquette remained to recruit
his health, impaired by physical hardships, continued exposure, and lack
of suitable food. The hardy Joliet lost no time, however, but pressed
on, too eager to report his grand discoveries to Frontenac.

As mentioned in Frontenac's dispatch, the misfortunes of Joliet began
when his long and perilous voyage was practically ended. In the rapids
of La Chine, near Montreal, his canoe overset; three of his party were
drowned, all his papers lost, and he himself narrowly escaped. In a
letter to Frontenac he says: "I had escaped every peril from the
Indians; I had passed forty-two rapids, and was on the point of
disembarking, full of joy at the success of so long and difficult an
enterprise, when my canoe capsized after all danger seemed past. I lost
two men, an Indian boy and my box of papers within sight of the first
French settlements, which I had left almost two years before. Nothing
now remains to me but my life and the ardent desire to employ it on any
service which you may be pleased to direct."

We have to rest content with the graphic account written by Marquette,
as it was impossible for Joliet to reproduce his lost journal. As
regards the map, his natural and acquired skill in cartography was such
that Joliet reproduced his discoveries in the shape of a small map,
which he presented to Frontenac, by whom it was sent to Colbert, with a
despatch dated November 14, 1674, and now is in the famous Chart Office
at Paris. It is entitled, "Map of the Discovery of Sieur Joliet," etc.,
and has a brief explanatory letter thereon, from which I have quoted
above.

Joliet's discoveries were most joyfully received in France, Colbert
especially appreciating their value and importance both as regards the
extent and fertility of the countries traversed and also as to the easy
water communication therewith. It afforded an opportunity of extending
the limits of French possessions in America, which was not neglected. It
did not fall, however, to Joliet to play any part in this great work,
which was the lot of his great rival, the energetic, persistent, and
far-seeing La Salle, who received in 1678 a royal patent with seignorial
rights over all lands which he might discover and colonize within twenty
years, and who gave Louisiana to the French crown.

The natural despondency of Joliet over the loss of his maps and
journals soon gave way to happier experiences; for the following year,
October 7, 1675, he married Clare Frances Bissot. His father-in-law, a
Canadian, was a wealthy Indian trader, so Joliet naturally resumed his
former occupation, and in 1679 made a journey to Hudson Bay by way of
the Saguenay. He found the English strongly intrenched in their
successful efforts to monopolize the Indian trade of that quarter. The
usual attempts to draw Canadians into their service were made in
Joliet's case. He not only declined service, but on his return to Quebec
made such representations of the inevitable effect of English rivalry,
if unopposed, on the trade of Canada, that a competing company was
organized by French merchants.

Joliet in the meantime had only received fair words, but after strenuous
efforts he succeeded in 1679 in obtaining a grant of the Islands of
Mignan, and in the following year the French Government granted him the
Island of Anticosti, in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Here he established
himself with his family, and with six servants engaged in fisheries.

In the course of time he added to his buildings and extended his
interests, but his peaceful pursuits were destined to interruption and
devastation. In 1690 an English fleet, under command of Sir William
Phipps, sailed to attack Quebec, and in course of time anchored at
Anticosti. In those days war was waged with utter disregard of the
rights of private property. Joliet was then absent. A detachment from
the English fleet landed on the island, devastated Joliet's
establishment, destroyed his buildings by fire, and even carried away as
prisoners his wife and mother-in-law, who fortunately were soon
exchanged.

Deprived in a day of the accumulation of years, his future actions
showed that age and adversity made but small inroads on his manly
spirit. Obliged to exertion for the support of his family, he turned
again in his fiftieth year to a voyage of exploration and adventure. A
Canadian company contemplated the extension of its seal and whale
fisheries to the rugged and dangerous coast of Labrador, then little
known, and in 1694 Joliet explored the greater part of this ice-covered
and rock-bound coast under the auspices and in the interest of this
company.

Some years earlier Joliet had shown his merits as a skilful surveyor and
navigator by charting the waters of the St. Lawrence, and when, on his
return from Labrador, occupation failed, Frontenac recognized his
deserving abilities by naming him for the post of royal pilot of the St.
Lawrence, still later appointing him hydrographer at Quebec.

The emoluments of his royal offices were a mere pittance, and in 1695 he
is found on Mignan Islands, where, with his wife, he contracted with his
brother-in-law Bissot and other parties with a view of developing his
interests both on land and at sea. In 1697 he was granted by the Crown
the Seignory of Joliet. This honor he did not long enjoy, for he died,
apparently a poor man, in 1699 or 1700. He was fortunate in his burial
place, one of the Mignan Islands, which is forever associated with his
fame, having been granted him by the French Crown for that great and
dangerous voyage which gave to the world its first definite knowledge of
the location, extent, and fertility of the great valley of the
Mississippi.

While Joliet followed the rugged and peaceful pursuits of his
island-home, ill fared it with his vigorous Norman successor. The great
La Salle fell under the hand of a mutinous follower, while his fated
Texan colony perished totally by desertion, betrayal, and massacre. So
relapsed the lower Mississippi into its primal savagery and grandeur,
until the domineering energy of the great Canadian, Iberville, awakened
it into a vast dominion, to the glory, if not to the profit, of France.

[Illustration]




II.

PETER LE MOYNE, SIEUR D'IBERVILLE,

FOUNDER OF LOUISIANA.


Among the very earliest settlers of Hochelega, now Montreal, was the son
of a Norman innkeeper, a young French lad of fifteen, Charles le Moyne,
who came to this Indian village in 1641. Apt, strong, daring, and
zealous, he soon became one of the most efficient aids to French power.
The language, the wood-craft, the arts of the savage soon became his,
and added to these such suavity of manner, clearness of perception, and
native kindness as made him loved equally by French and savage. As
interpreter, soldier, negotiator, and captain of the guard, he rendered
such great service to the young and exposed colony as caused him to be
made captain of Montreal, and later, in 1668, to be ennobled by Louis
XIV. under the title of Sieur of Longueuil. For four years service in
the country of the Hurons he received for his entire pay the sum of
twenty crowns and his clothing, but he gained also such a knowledge of
the possibilities of the country, such an insight into Indian character,
and such a wealth of vigorous manhood as enabled him to acquire during
his life an estate that was princely. He did better than this, he
married a woman worthy of him, whose family is scarcely known,
Catherine Tierry, an adopted daughter of Antoine Primot.

In all the history of American families there is none that has as
distinguished and brilliant a history as the twelve sons and two
daughters born of this French peasant and the son of a Norman innkeeper
in the forests of Canada. The two daughters married nobles, and of the
twelve sons nine live distinguished in history, three of them were
killed in the service of France, ten of them were ennobled, and four,
Iberville, Serigny, Chateauguay, and Bienville the younger, played
important parts in the founding of Louisiana.

[Illustration: Signature of le Moyne.]

There were many brilliant and picturesque figures among the actors in
the founding of a New France in the wilds of North America, but among
them all there was scarcely one whose personality and deeds excited more
admiration among his contemporaries, or whose services and career are
more deserving of recognition by posterity, than Peter le Moyne, Sieur
d'Iberville, third son of Longueuil, who was born on the extreme
frontier, at the outpost of Montreal, July 16, 1661. As a soldier he
rose to be the leader and idol of his fellow-Canadians; as a sailor he
became an extremely skilful navigator, who was acknowledged as one of
the greatest of French naval commanders; and as an explorer and
administrator he so successfully accomplished his plans as to merit and
receive the title of the Founder of Louisiana.

The freedom, vigor, and wildness of Canadian life developed men early,
and Iberville entered the French Navy as midshipman at the age of
fourteen. His first service of note, however, was as a soldier in the
wilds of his native land, in the Canadian overland campaign to recover
possession of an Indian trading post on Hudson Bay, which it was claimed
the English had illegally seized. Iberville volunteered for this
campaign under De Troye, and exhibited such judgment and vigor as caused
him to be put in command of a small party of nine, some say twelve, men
with two canoes, wherewith he did not hesitate to attack and compel the
unconditional surrender of an English ship manned by fourteen, including
the commander of Hudson Bay. St. Helene, his brother, meantime captured
another vessel, and with the two as means of transport, the two brothers
pushed on to Fort Quitchitchouen, which surrendered after withstanding a
sharp cannonade.

These victories not only insured to the French the command of the entire
southern part of Hudson Bay, but put them in possession of a vast amount
of stores. Indeed, so destructive to English interests were the
campaigns of Iberville in 1687-88, that the Hudson Bay Company declared
that their actual losses amounted to 108,520 pounds sterling, an
enormous sum in the young colonies of that day. The consequential losses
must have been very great, for we are told that the value of furs
obtained in the trade of one year amounted to 400,000 livres (francs).

Iberville remained in charge of the country which his valor had
recaptured, and in 1688, while the Iroquois were ravaging Canada, waged
successful war in Hudson Bay. One of his lieutenants, capturing an
English official, found on him an order from the London Company to
proclaim English sovereignty over the whole bay. Later two ships, with
twenty-eight cannon and eight swivels, appeared before St. Anne in order
to expel the French. Eventually Iberville compelled the surrender of the
English ships, and releasing the smaller vessel for the safe transport
of such prisoners as he paroled, himself navigated the larger ship, with
eleven Hudson Bay pilots held prisoners, to Quebec through Hudson
Strait.

In 1690 Iberville volunteered, under his brother St. Helene, for the
retaliatory expedition in mid-winter against Schenectady, wherein a
large number of the inhabitants of that unhappy town were ruthlessly
massacred by the French and their Indian allies. Iberville seems to have
exerted his influence to restrain the savagery of the Indians, and saved
the life of at least one Englishman.

It seems that the successes of the young Canadian had attracted
attention in France, and when in 1691, through the efforts of the
Northern Company, Louis XIV. had decided to recover Port Nelson, Hudson
Bay, from the English, Du Tast came to Quebec with fourteen sail, it was
with express orders that Iberville should be entrusted with a share of
the work and glory. Du Tast objected to such division of honor, and by
plausible objections as to the lateness of the season, although it was
only the 16th of July, succeeded in delaying the departure of the
expedition for that year.

Iberville seemed determined to show the speciousness of the reasons, for
he made a trip to the bay and brought back in 1691 two ships loaded with
furs, much to the consolation of Frontenac. He immediately went to
France to advance the expedition against Port Nelson, which he knew was
much favored at court. Iberville found favor with the king, who gave him
two ships for the reduction of Port Nelson, and orders to guard it after
reduction.

Delays in France and contrary winds on the Atlantic brought Iberville to
Quebec only in October, far too late for the safe navigation of Hudson
Bay. To fill in his time he set forth to take Pemaquid, but did not make
an attack, this being the only instance in his long career where he
failed to show extreme daring, even against desperate odds. The delay of
the vessels was unfortunate for France as far as Hudson Bay was
concerned, for in 1693 three English vessels attacked and captured St.
Anne, with fifty thousand peltries, and again the control of the bay
passed from France.

In September, 1694, Iberville, with two ships, la Poli and la Charante,
the former commanded by his brother, de Serigny, appeared before Port
Nelson, which he was six weeks in approaching owing to the heavy moving
ice, which nearly destroyed his vessel. The fort had a double palisade,
thirty-two cannon and swivels in the main body, and fourteen cannon in
outer works, the whole manned by fifty-three men. Iberville landed
without hesitation, invested the fort with forty Canadians, worked with
his usual energy and skill, and in fourteen days he had his outworks
established, his batteries placed and mortars in position. His final
summons for surrender resulted in the capitulation of the fort, on
condition that personal property should be spared and safe transport be
given the garrison to England the coming year. His success was saddened
for Iberville by the death of the elder Chateauguay, the third of his
brothers to fall in the service of his king, who perished while
gallantly repelling a sortie of the beleaguered garrison. The name of
Port Nelson was changed to Fort Bourbon, and the river was rechristened
St. Therese, because, says Jeremie, in his _Relation de la Baie de
Hudson_, the capitulation was made on October 14th, the day of that holy
saint.

The victory did not prove to be cheap, for scurvy, then the dreaded
scourge of the sailor, broke out during the long, dark, excessively cold
winter, and caused the death of twenty men. Late the next summer, after
waiting to the last moment for the English ships he counted on
capturing, and leaving a garrison of sixty-seven at Fort Bourbon,
Iberville sailed for Quebec; but the winds were so contrary and his crew
so debilitated by scurvy, that he turned his prows to France and
fortunately arrived at Rochelle, October 9, 1695.

His victories in Hudson Bay so commended him to the king that Iberville
was charged with the reduction and destruction of the strong fort which
James II. of England had erected at Pemaquid, Maine. While on this
cruise our Canadian fell in with three English ships near the mouth of
the St. John. He unhesitatingly attacked them, dismasted, fired, and
captured the flag-ship of the squadron, the Newport, a ship of eighty
men and twenty-four guns.

Reinforced by several hundred Indians, as a land and besieging force,
Iberville arrived at Pemaquid, August 13, 1696, and invested the fort
the next day. He summoned the commander, Colonel Chubb, to capitulate,
but that officer replied that, "if the sea was covered with French
vessels and the land with Indians, he would not surrender until
compelled to do so." Iberville promptly landed, and used such expedition
that within the short space of thirteen hours he established his
batteries in position and opened fire, when the garrison surrendered on
honorable terms. Iberville, doubtless mindful of his experiences at
Schenectady, took the wise and humane precaution of quartering his
prisoners under the guns of the royal ships, so as to secure them from
the fury of his bloodthirsty allies, the Indians, who desired to
supplement the entire destruction of the fort by the slaughter of the
garrison.

In withdrawing from the demolished post, while doubling the island at
the mouth of the Penobscot, he had an opportunity of justifying his
reputation as the most skilful officer in the French service; for,
falling in with an English squadron of seven sail, he successfully
evaded them by bold seamanship along the very coast line of that
dangerous and rock-bound shore.

His capacity as a military commander was now to be tested. Charged by
the king to co-operate in the reduction of Newfoundland to French power,
Iberville found himself viewed with jealousy by his colleague,
Brouillan, governor of Placentia, who assumed entire command, interfered
with Iberville's contemplated movements, and declared that his own
troops, the Canadians, should not accompany him on the opening campaign.

Iberville realizing the necessity of zealous and concerted action in an
enterprise of such importance, decided to leave the field free to
Brouillan, and so announced his intention of returning to France.
Immediately the Canadians declared to a man that they were bound to him
alone, that Frontenac's orders recognized Iberville as commander, and
finally, that they would return to Quebec sooner than accept another.
Brouillan recognizing that Iberville was the idol of his Canadian
countrymen, and unable to deny that the king had confided all the
enterprises to be undertaken during the winter to Iberville, made such
concessions as brought about reconciliation; nevertheless the campaign
undertaken against St. John's was marked by dissension. Iberville
displayed his usual energy and gallantry in the advance and subsequent
skirmishes which ultimately resulted in the surrender of St. John's,
which was abandoned and destroyed by fire. The campaign was pursued with
such energy and success that at the end of two months the English had
nothing left in Newfoundland except Bona Vista and Carbonniere Island.
During these operations Iberville displayed marked ability in handling
troops, both in the field and during siege operations. His eagerness to
share every danger, and willingness to undergo every hardship in common
with his troops, endeared him to all and contributed much to the
enthusiasm with which his men followed him or obeyed his orders.

In May, 1697, his brother Serigny arrived at Placentia with four
vessels, destined for the command of Iberville in a proposed attempt to
again reduce Hudson Bay. With these ships--le Pelican, fifty guns; le
Palmier, forty guns; le Profond, le Vespe, and a brigantine--Iberville
entered the mouth of Hudson Strait on August 3d, and was immediately
beset with heavy ice. The floes were driven hither and thither with such
violence by the currents that Iberville directed, as the best means of
safety, that each vessel should moor itself to the largest attainable
iceberg. This expedient saved four of the ships, but an unexpected
movement of two large bergs crushed so completely the brigantine that
she sank instantly, the crew barely escaping with their lives.

After a besetment of twenty-four days, Iberville succeeded in
extricating his vessel from the ice and passed into the bay. He was
alone and in utter ignorance of the fate of his consorts, which had been
hidden from view by the ice for the past seventeen days. Iberville was
not the man to turn back, nor indeed to delay in an expedition which
demanded haste, so he pushed on alone and reached Port Nelson on
September 4th.

The next morning he discovered three ships several leagues to the
leeward, tacking to enter the harbor. He hoped that they were his
consorts, and he at once made signals, which being unanswered showed
that the ships were English. It was indeed an English squadron,
consisting of the Hampshire, fifty-two guns and two hundred and thirty
men; the Hudson Bay, thirty-two guns, and the Deringue, also of
thirty-two guns, against which force Iberville had but one ship of fifty
guns. It was with reason that, as Jeremie says, "they flattered
themselves with the idea of capturing Iberville, seeing that they were
three to one, and they were amazed at the boldness with which he
attacked them."

Indeed, almost any other officer in the French navy would have
considered an attack as simply madness, but such desperate odds only
served to stimulate to the highest degree the known courage and skill of
Iberville. He cleared his decks for action, and instantly quitting the
shelter and supposed advantage of the harbor, attacked the English
squadron in the open sea, where Iberville doubtless counted that his
skill in handling ship would inure to his benefit.

Charlevoix thus describes this desperate fight:

"The cannonade opened about half-past nine in the morning and was kept
up incessantly till one with great vigor on both sides. Meanwhile the
Pelican had only one man killed and seventeen wounded. Then Iberville,
who had kept the weather-gauge, bore down straight on the two frigates,
pouring in several broadsides at close quarters in order to disable
them. At that moment he perceived the third, the Hampshire, coming on
with twenty-six guns in battery on each side, with a crew of two hundred
and thirty men.

"He at once proceeded to meet her, all his guns pointed to sink her, ran
under her lee, yard-arm to yard-arm, and having brought his ship to,
poured in his broadside. This was done so effectively that the
Hampshire, after keeping on about her own length, went down. Iberville
at once wore and turned on the Hudson Bay, the ship of the remaining two
that could most easily enter St. Teresa River; but as he was on the
point of boarding her, the commandant struck his flag and surrendered.

"Iberville then gave chase to the Deringue, the third, which was
escaping to the northeast, and which was only a good cannon-shot off;
but as that vessel was as good a sailor as his own ship he soon gave up
the chase, not daring to crowd sail, having had much of his rigging cut,
two pumps burst, his shrouds considerably injured, hull cut up by seven
cannon-balls and pierced at the water's edge, with no way of stopping
the leak. He accordingly veered and sent the Sieur de la Sale in his
boat with twenty-five men to man the prize. He then proceeded to repair
damage, and having done so with great expedition, he renewed the chase
of the enemy, who was now three leagues off.

"He began to gain on him when, in the evening, the wind changed to the
north, and a thick fog suddenly rising, he lost sight of the Deringue.
This accident compelled him to rejoin the Hudson Bay, and he anchored
near the Hampshire, now almost out of sight, and from which not a soul
had been saved."

In this fight with an enemy more than twice his superior in guns and men
Iberville had sunk one ship, captured another, and put the third to
flight; but this was followed by other experiences, which at the outset
presented conditions apparently not less desperate and discouraging. Two
days later, pending his siege operations against Port Nelson, a violent
gale arose, in which, says Charlevoix, "In spite of all d'Iberville's
efforts to ride it out--and there was not, perhaps, in the French navy
one more skilful in handling a ship--he was driven ashore with his
vessel, the Pelican, and his prize, the Hudson Bay. The misfortune
happened at night, the darkness increasing the horrors of the storm and
preventing them from beaching the vessels at a favorable place and so
saving them, and before the break of day they broke up and filled."

Both vessels were crowded with wounded men and prisoners, who
endeavored as best they could to reach the shore in the storm and
darkness. Twenty-three perished in the attempt, but fortunately the
receding tide left such shallows that the rest reached shore, and most
of the prisoners successfully sought the friendly shelter of Fort
Nelson.

Iberville now found himself in most desperate plight--shipwrecked on a
barren coast, with a hostile garrison on land, the return of the English
ship at sea possible, and destitute of provisions. He turned to the
wrecked vessels and found that it was possible to obtain from them
cannon and other munitions of war, and, undismayed, he set his cold,
wet, and hungry crew at this task, resolved to obtain food by carrying
the English fort by assault. At this juncture his missing vessels,
having extricated themselves from the ice of Hudson Strait, appeared,
and the fort surrendered without putting Iberville to the last proof of
his courage.

As might be expected, Iberville became the hero of the day on his return
to France in 1697; but true to himself and his career, he sought the
influence of friends at court only to obtain other difficult and
dangerous service that might add to the glory of France. He was now to
enter on a new career as an explorer, colonizer, and administrator,
where, if he was to perform less brilliant deeds than in earlier life,
he was destined to open up to settlement by his countrymen the fertile
lands of Louisiana, and thus lay the foundations of its future
greatness.

It was now twelve years since the tragic fate of La Salle's colony on
the coast of Texas had spread dismay and terror among all who had been
especially interested in the scheme of French colonization on the
Mississippi River. The sentiment seemed to be that the mouth of the
great river could never be found and that further effort would only
result in useless sacrifice of life and vessels. With the march of time,
however, these impressions of doubt and disaster had faded out of mind,
and as now the attention of the ministry was especially turned to that
part of Louisiana which could be reached from the St. Lawrence, it
appeared to Iberville to be a suitable season to revive the project of
discovering the mouth of the Mississippi and of planting a colony.

A plan for the colonization of Louisiana was formally submitted to the
French Government by M. de Remonville, while Iberville for his part
pledged his reputation as a navigator both to find the mouth of the
Mississippi and to successfully plant there a colony. The ministry were
easily persuaded that the scheme was practicable and advantageous, their
decision being doubtless affected by the knowledge that both Spain and
England contemplated the early settlement of the northern coasts of the
Gulf of Mexico. It was even reported, as afterward transpired to be the
truth, that colonizing expeditions were already en route, and in order
to insure protection should Iberville first reach the ground, Count
Pontchartrain projected and arranged for the construction of a fort at
the mouth of the Mississippi.

As was always the case, schemes of trade were interwoven with the policy
of colonization and extension of the royal domain. The principal objects
of the trade proved fanciful or chimerical, being, first, the idea of
making bison wool an article of trade, a scheme fostered in France by La
Salle, and, second, in the hope that valuable pearl fisheries might be
found. In Iberville's instructions we find that "one of the great
objects proposed to the king, when he was urged to discover the mouth of
the Mississippi, was to obtain wool from the cattle (buffalo) of that
country, and for this purpose these animals must be tamed and parked and
the calves sent to France."

Iberville worked with his usual energy, and the expedition, consisting
of two small frigates, the Badine, the Marin, and two Norman
fishing-boats, sailed from Brest, October 4, 1698. It was Friday, but
Iberville no more than Columbus minded the day, and in the reluctance of
the other vessels, himself led in the Badine.

A storm off Madeira caused the disappearance of one of the
fishing-boats, but after a short search Iberville tarried no more than
he did in the Hudson Straits for his missing consort, but pushed on and
reached San Domingo early in December. Here the governor, Ducasse, was
so impressed with Iberville's elucidation of his projects that he
expressed to the home government his opinion that the views and genius
of Iberville seemed to equal his valor in war.

English vessels had been cruising in the neighborhood of San Domingo,
which led Iberville to believe that it was a colonizing expedition, so
he worked day and night in completing his preparations, and on January
1, 1699, sailed for the Gulf of Mexico. On the afternoon of the
twenty-third day, Iberville as usual leading, land was sighted in the
northeast. It proved to be the harbor of Pensacola, where Iberville was
chagrined to find himself preceded by a Spanish colony under command of
Don Andres de la Riola. There were two frigates yet in the harbor, which
four months before had brought up three hundred colonists from Vera
Cruz. The half-finished fort, the dissatisfied garrison, and the
uncertainty of the future explorations to the westward were so many
inducements for Iberville to drive out the Spaniards and secure the
harbor. Iberville made arrangements to enter the harbor, but was
notified by the Spanish governor that he had formal orders from Spain to
permit no foreign ships to enter the harbor. Under pretence that he
feared heavy weather the French fleet sounded the entrance to the harbor
and prepared to enter. The Spanish commander, however, begged that they
would retire, and fortunately having been given information by the
Spanish pilot, Iberville decided to sail to the west. Iberville,
exploring the coast, anchored at the eastern point of the entrance to
Mobile Bay, where violent gales nearly destroyed the squadron.

[Illustration: Bienville.]

Reconnoitring boats giving such unsatisfactory reports of the depth of
the channel, Iberville determined, with his usual energy, to survey it
himself. Taking his younger brother Bienville and a crew of his
faithful Canadians he started, despite approaching darkness, so as to
begin work at day-light; the storm breaking with great violence,
Iberville's efforts to make headway over the billows were in vain.
Finally, his rowers exhausted, the boat was turned to the nearest land,
but the sea was so high and the wind so violent that unceasing efforts
were needful to prevent the boat from swamping. It was due to
Iberville's great skill that the boat was finally beached in a
favorable spot on the sandy beach, which the crew reached with
difficulty, so exhausted were they with their struggles. Here they were
weather-bound three days, and so had an opportunity to explore the
island. It was with horror that they discovered in one place ghastly
piles of human bones and skulls, mute witnesses of a scene of slaughter,
which terrified many of the crew until they found the island to be
uninhabited. The island, now known as Dauphin, was called Massacre by
Iberville, who, undisturbed by the sight, visited the mainland with a
few of his men and made every effort to discover the inhabitants, of
whom he found recent traces.

Finally came good weather, and with it the continued voyage to the west
brought the fleet to safe anchorage on a bright February morn off Ship
Island. The live-stock landed, Iberville gave his freight consorts
permission to return to France, while he explored the mainland that now
lay fair and bright before him. The Indians were communicated with,
after many failures, but, beyond the discovery of the Pascagoula and
reports of a larger river to the west, which the Bayagoula Indians
called Malbouchia, no valuable information was obtained. Iberville
planned to reach the great river by one of its reported outlets, and,
following the main channel down, thus learn the way for his vessel; but,
the Indians giving him the slip, it only remained to search every foot
of the coast until the river was gained. He was thus thrown on his own
resources, which had never failed and were not to do so now. Iberville,
with his brother Bienville and fifty picked men, largely Canadians, and
twenty days' provisions, started February 27th, on two Biscayennes or
barges, for his difficult task, the discovery of the mouth of the
Mississippi.

It is useless to detail this journey of Iberville through an apparently
endless maze of islets, mud-banks, sand-banks, reefs, and marshy shoals,
which go to make up the great level delta of the Mississippi. It would,
even to-day, be a difficult search for most mariners without a chart,
but then well-nigh impossible. Iberville's skill and patience were
tasked to the utmost, and, when he did find the mouth of the great
river, it almost seemed to be by the intervention of Providence. On the
eve of March 3, 1699, while struggling along the mainland, to which they
persistently clung, the violence of an increasing gale threatened to
swamp their barges, despite every effort, if they kept off shore, while
every approach to watch the shore-line, and thus make certain of the
river-mouth, incurred danger of beaching and destruction. Darkness came
on and the gale increased, making certain, as it seemed to them, that
they must choose death at sea or death on land. Suddenly Iberville put
his barge before the wind, and into the face of death as his followers
thought, but it shot between huge piles of interlaced drift-wood into a
turbid stream of whitish water. Iberville put out his hand and tasted.
The water was fresh, and the Mississippi was rediscovered.

The Spaniards had spoken of the river as La Palisada, which Iberville
thought most appropriate when he saw the bristling barricades of huge
jagged trees with outstretched limbs and contorted roots borne
incessantly onward by the strong current.

Iberville camped that night at the edge of the dense rank sedge-growth,
saying: "Stretched on the sedges and sheltered from the gale, our
pleasure is so much the greater that we feel our escape from a great
peril. It is a very lively business, this exploring the unknown shores
of a sea in shallops too small to carry sail in the open sea, too tiny
to anchor, and yet so large that they strand and ground half a league
from land."

The next morn was that of Mardi-Gras, when our devout explorers
celebrated mass, sang joyfully the Te Deum and raised a commemorative
cross before voyaging further.

Never in their wildest dreams could the hardy Canadian explorers from
their marshy camp in the delta of the Mississippi ever have presaged,
that in the coming time, from the many millions of future inhabitants in
the Valley of the Mississippi should be gathered tens of thousands to
celebrate the merry day of carnival in the metropolitan city that was to
spring up from their memorable voyage.

The Mississippi was near its high stage, so that travel was tediously
slow, mostly by oar. The land rose somewhat, the sedge gave way first to
cane and willows, and later to richly foliaged trees with graceful
festoons pleasing to the eye and fruitful of promise in the coming
autumn. The country, largely flooded, would have seemed uninhabited save
for the Indian ferry-boats, bundles of cane pointed at both ends and
fastened together by crossbars of wood, and an occasional column of
smoke rising in the distant blue. The rapid current obliged the oarsmen
to hug the bank closely, while diminishing food and increasing piles of
drift-wood discouraged them; but the indomitable Iberville cheered on
his Canadians, and on the fifth day, some thirty-five leagues from the
river's mouth, six pirogues, or canoes, full of Indians were seen. The
savages fled, but one was captured, and through him communication and
friendly overtures were established with the Annochys. Through these
Indians Iberville was taken to the present site of New Orleans and was
shown the portage over which the Indians travelled to Lake
Pontchartrain, and thence to the bay where the ship was at anchor.
Farther up the stream Iberville visited the village of the Bayougoulas,
which consisted of about two hundred souls. The men, well made, with
short hair and painted faces, stalked around most unconcernedly in a
naked state. The women blackened their teeth, tied up their hair in a
top-knot, tattooed their faces and breasts, and wore girdles woven of
bark fibre, dyed red or bleached white, with pendulous fringes reaching
to the knee. The ornaments of the women were metal bracelets and bangles
and fancy articles made of feathers, while the young braves wore sashes
of feathers, which, weighted with bits of metal, made merry sound as
they danced. In short, they were an inoffensive folk, content with the
simple fruits of the earth, which largely served as their sustenance.

Iberville visited one of their temples, a structure some thirty feet in
diameter, which Charlevoix describes as follows: "In the centre were
slowly burning logs (keeping up a perpetual fire), and at the end a
platform on which lay skins of deer, buffalo, and bear, offerings to the
Chouchouacha (the opossum), the god of the Bayougoulas, which animal was
painted in red and black at various points in the temple. The roof was
decorated with the figures of various animals, among which a red fox was
conspicuous. On either side of the entrance were other animal figures,
such as bears and wolves and also various birds, but above all the
Chouchouacha (the opossum), an animal about the size and having the head
of the sucking pig, the white and gray fur of the badger, the tail of
the rat, the paws of an ape, and a sack under its stomach."

The great discrepancies between the topography of the river and the
descriptions given in the accounts of the journeys of La Salle and Tonti
so impressed Iberville that he was really doubtful if he was on the
Mississippi, and so his journey was pursued up the river to the Oumas, a
short distance below the mouth of the Red River. Fortunately his
brother, Bienville, obtained from an Indian chief a letter, which the
savage had carried for thirteen years, given him by Tonti, who
descended the river from Illinois in 1686 and left this letter addressed
to La Salle, whose active and loyal assistant Tonti was.

[Illustration: Bienville's Army on the River.]

Iberville was now over seven hundred miles distant from his ship, and
his original stock of provisions was exhausted, so that the men were
obliged to live on the corn of the Indians and such meat or game as
could be bought or killed. Sending his men back by the delta with the
barges, Iberville decided to try himself the route of portages to the
Gulf. With an Indian guide he entered the Ascantia, a narrow, winding
bayou, where with his four Canadians and two pirogues fifty portages
over fallen trees and drift were made the first day in a distance of
seven leagues. It is not surprising that the Indian guide, unaccustomed
to such tremendous labor and fatigue, deserted the second day. Iberville
none the less pushed on undauntedly, confident that he could reach his
ship through this unknown country, guide or no guide. Next, one of his
hardy Canadians fell sick, and Iberville took his place and oar, and in
the portages carried his end of a pirogue. After eighty portages they
passed into Lake Maurepas and next into Lake Pontchartrain, whence the
way was easy to the ship, which was reached eight hours in advance of
the barges from the delta.

In his absence of six weeks Iberville had found again the Mississippi,
explored its shores almost to the Red River, made friends with all its
native tribes, discovered the short route to the sea, travelled about
fifteen hundred miles, and had returned to his ship with every man of
his party. What volumes these few facts speak for the energy, tact,
skill, and foresight of this wonderful Canadian!

Casting about for a convenient spot Iberville decided to build his fort
at the head of Biloxi Bay, and in this unfortunate location, under the
spurring supervision of the chief, Fort Biloxi soon rose, and there on
Easter Sunday mass was celebrated, vespers sung, and a sermon preached.
On May 2, 1700, Iberville sailed for France, leaving his lieutenant,
Sauvole, as the first governor of the province of Louisiana and
Bienville second in command.

The action of France and the desperate haste of Iberville in occupying
the mouth of the Mississippi were most timely. The very month in which
our Canadian sailed from Brest an expedition left England under the
auspices of Mr. Cox, who sent out three vessels loaded with emigrants.
They wintered in the Carolinas, where many settled, but in 1700 two
ships continued their voyage to the Mississippi. One of these vessels
was commanded by a Captain Banks, who once captured by Iberville in
Hudson Bay now found himself worsted by his rival in the peaceful work
of colonization. One of the English ships appeared in the lower
Mississippi, into which Banks had found entrance, in September, 1700.
Bienville, with five men and two pirogues, met the English vessel, and
setting forth to the captain that France was in possession of all the
surrounding country, succeeded either by argument or cajolery in
persuading the captain to withdraw from the Mississippi.

Iberville was not long delayed by the delights and pleasures of the
French court, but speedily returned to Biloxi, where he arrived on the
eve of Twelfth Night with supplies, and more important of all, with
sixty hardy and energetic Canadians, with whom he established a fort a
short distance below the present site of New Orleans. The winter proved
a very cold one, the drinking-water freezing in the cups, but it did not
delay the rapid progress of the new fort. In the midst of this work
Chevalier de Tonti arrived with twenty Canadians from their former
settlement in Illinois.

Thus for the first time, with intercommunication established between the
permanent settlement in Illinois, Tonti's fort on the Arkansas, and the
new colony at the mouth of the Mississippi, Iberville felt that France
had indeed entered into actual possession of its great province of
Louisiana. He realized, however, the necessity of permanently connecting
these settlements, many hundred miles apart, and of facilitating
intercommunication through the establishment of intermediate posts.

Iberville contemplated an exploration of the Red River, thinking it
might afford access to the gold and silver mines of New Spain, but
abandoned the project owing to the representations of the Indians that
the river was unnavigable from the interlaced drift-wood, later known as
rafts. He turned his attention to the main river, the Mississippi, and
visited the Natchez, a brave and powerful tribe of Indians, whose
country delighted his heart as resembling France, and where he planned a
city to be called Rosalie (now Natchez), which, however, it was not his
fate to ever see take definite form, as it was only built long after his
death, in 1714, by his brother Bienville. It was at this time that Le
Sueur, sent up the Mississippi by Iberville, discovered the St. Peter
River, in Minnesota, and attempting mining operations, later brought
back a worthless cargo of green earth. To Iberville's credit, it may be
said, he viewed this and many other similar schemes of development with
a sceptical and practical eye.

Later he sent his brother Bienville across country to explore the Red
River, which was done with good success. His priest Montigny was also
active in extending the faith, both among the Natchez Indians and in the
basin of the Tensas River. Indeed, every effort was made under
Iberville's sagacious direction to obtain a knowledge of the
possibilities of the country, so that its resources might be properly
developed.

Iberville returned to France ill with fever, but despite his disease, he
displayed extraordinary energy in personally advancing the practical
affairs of his new colony. Moreover, he prepared a memoir urging the
cession of Pensacola by Spain to France, which nation was to establish
forts and arm the Indians along the Mississippi River, whereby the
interior of America from the Gulf of Mexico to Canada would be under
French domination, save the narrow strip along the Atlantic coast
already occupied by England. It was a sagacious scheme which if it had
been properly supported by France would have entirely changed the future
of America. It received, however, but a perfunctory support, and only
resulted in exciting the jealousy of Spain.

Iberville's last voyage to Louisiana was made in 1701, when his health,
undermined by the climate, was impaired by the formation of an abscess
which confined him to his bed for two months. His mind worked
incessantly, and his activity through other hands was wonderful. He
planned the royal magazines on Dauphine Island, located the new post on
Mobile River, told off the relief of workmen for the various
enterprises, planned flat-boats for lighters, extended relief to the
Spaniards at Vera Cruz, and sent Tonti as an agent to make peace with
the Choctaws and Chickasaws and secure them as allies. His sailor's eye
was particularly pleased with the magnificent forests of Mobile Bay,
where the oaks and pines presented the finest timber for ship-building
he had ever seen.

With Mobile commenced, the royal storehouses erected, and the alliance
of the Choctaws and Chickasaws secured, Iberville felt that the colony
of Louisiana was on a secure foundation, and on March 31st he sailed
from Dauphine Island, then the headquarters of that colony for which he
had done so much, and which he was destined never again to see.

The domain of Louisiana, obtained by so much heroic endeavor and
individual suffering on the part of Joliet, Marquette, La Salle, Tonti,
Iberville, and their associates, passed at once, by an edict of Louis
XIV., into a monopoly and under the control of a courtier, Anton Crozat,
for trading purposes, by the decree of September 14, 1712. In this
decree the limits of Louisiana were for the first time defined,
including "all the territories by us (France) possessed, and bounded by
New Mexico and by those of the English in Carolina.... The river St.
Louis, formerly called the Mississippi, from the sea-shore to the
Illinois, together with the rivers St. Phillipe, formerly called the
Missouries, and the St. Jerome, formerly called the Wabash (the Ohio),
with all the countries, territories, lakes in the land, and the rivers
emptying directly or indirectly into that part of the river St. Louis.
All the said territories, countries, rivers, streams, and islands we
will to be and remain comprised under the name of the government of
Louisiana."

There was another and blacker page to the decree, whereby Crozat was
further authorized to introduce African slavery: "If the aforesaid Sieur
Crozat considers it advisable to have <DW64>s in the said country of
Louisiana, for agriculture or other use on plantations, he can send a
ship each year to trade directly with the Guinea coast, ... and is
further authorized to sell <DW64>s to the settlers of Louisiana."

But prior to this condition of affairs the great Canadian naval
commander had passed to his final reward, having died of yellow fever at
Havana, July 9, 1706. The last leaf in his history was, however, an
effort, through his personal bravery and skill, to secure French
domination in America by driving out of the Antilles the determined
English seamen whose successful raids so often militated against the
interests of France. Despite his health, undermined by fevers, Iberville
left France with a fleet with which he hoped to carry out this great
plan. Intending to make a descent upon Barbadoes, he learned that the
English, warned of his plans, were prepared for him. He therefore seized
on the islands of Nevis and St. Christopher, where his fleet captured an
enormous amount of booty of all kinds. He decided next to ravage the
English colonies in the Carolinas, but stopping at Havana for
reinforcements he lost his own life by the epidemic which destroyed
eight hundred others of his fleet.

Among the qualities of this great Canadian all must admire his
intrepidity in war, his skill as a navigator, and his capacity as an
explorer; but beyond these were the astonishing administrative ability
and political sagacity which he displayed in such an eminent degree in
the planning, founding, and fostering of the great province of
Louisiana.

[Illustration: New Orleans in 1719.]




III.

JONATHAN CARVER,

THE EXPLORER OF MINNESOTA.


Throughout the bloody series of French and Indian wars which ravaged the
frontier settlements of America during the first half of the eighteenth
century, France maintained secure possession of the regions of the great
lakes and the basin of the upper Mississippi. The successful campaign of
the gallant Wolfe against the no less gallant Montcalm ultimately
resulted in the termination of French supremacy in these sections, and
under the treaty of Paris, in 1763, Canada with all other dominions of
France east of the Mississippi passed under the control of Great
Britain.

To this time the English colonists had confined their operations almost
entirely to the region of the Atlantic Coast, so when Great Britain
acquired her immense war-inheritance the country to the west of the
Appalachian Mountain range was practically an unknown region to its new
masters. The extension of English settlements toward the interior of the
continent was determined on by the English Government, and the more
accessible of the French trading-posts in the northwest were immediately
occupied. Maps were few and inaccurate, information as to the Indians
vague and exaggerated, while nothing was known as to the resources of
the country except that furs were obtainable in large numbers.

Scarcely were the terms of the treaty promulgated than the enterprising
pioneers moved westward and gradually pressed back the Indians nearest
the English settlements. A few other men, however, undertook to
penetrate the valley of the Mississippi to the very frontier of
Louisiana, which remained a French possession.

Among these hardy and adventurous Americans the most enterprising was
Captain Jonathan Carver, who was born in Stillwater, N. Y., in 1732. He
was the grandson of William Joseph Carver, one of the earliest of the
royal appointments in Connecticut, and his first public service was at
the age of eighteen, when he secured an ensigncy in a Connecticut
regiment. In 1757, when Colonel Oliver Partridge raised a battalion of
infantry in Massachusetts to serve against Canada, Carver was made a
lieutenant therein. Later he served as captain under Colonel Whitcomb,
in 1760, and under Colonel Saltonstall, in 1762, and participated in the
taking of Crown Point and other operations in northern New York.

Doubtless his association with scouts and camp-followers, largely
consisting of fur-traders and frontiersmen, induced a lively interest in
their accounts of the western country held by their enemies, the Indian
and the Frenchman. Certain it is that Carver acquired such ideas of the
extent, fertility, natural wealth, and possibilities of the great and
unknown West as fired his adventurous spirit with a firm determination
to solve the important geographical problems connected therewith.

His objects, he states, were to gain knowledge concerning the Indian
tribes to the west of the Mississippi, to ascertain the natural
resources of the country, and to cross the American continent between
the forty-third and forty-sixth degrees of north latitude. Ultimately he
contemplated the establishment of a trading-post at some suitable point
on the Pacific Coast.

Carver was not ignorant of the great danger involved in such an
undertaking, where he was obliged to intrust his life to the mercy of
unknown Indians for a prolonged time. Indeed, considering his
experiences at the massacre of Englishmen and provincials at Fort Henry,
it seems surprising that he would ever trust a savage or a Frenchman. In
the campaign of 1757, Carver volunteered to accompany the detachment of
fifteen hundred men which General Webb sent forward to reinforce the
garrison at Fort Henry, then anticipating an attack from Montcalm. The
garrison, commanded by the gallant Monro, who resisted until his guns
burst and his ammunition was nearly exhausted, surrendered to the
combined force of Indians and French under Montcalm, who promised safe
conduct and private property. As the English force moved out the next
morning the Indians, inflamed by liquor, song, and dance, butchered the
sick and wounded and then fell upon the helpless captives, of whom there
were, according to French accounts, about sixty killed and four hundred
robbed and maltreated. Montcalm and Levi, to their credit, though too
late, made heroic personal efforts which mitigated the horrors of the
situation.

[Illustration: Indian Tomahawk. (From Carver's Book.)]

Among the unfortunates was Carver, who, robbed and stripped by the
savages, appealed to a French sentry for protection only to be repelled
with abuse. Realizing finally that to remain quiet was to meet certain
death, Carver and a few others attempted to escape by breaking unarmed
through the surrounding lines of Indian fiends. In this desperate effort
for life Carver was twice wounded, badly beaten, seized by two Indians,
and led away to death, which he escaped by the appearance of a British
officer in full uniform, who was such a prize that his captors left
Carver to secure a more valuable victim. Profiting by the respite Carver
fled to the nearest woods, where, exhausted and nearly naked, he
concealed himself in a thicket until night. For three days he wandered
through the densest part of the forest, suffering tortures from travel
under such conditions, often in danger of recapture, and without food
until he reached, in a nearly exhausted condition, the English
settlements.

An attempt at transcontinental exploration was then looked on as
foolhardy and visionary in the extreme, even to those friends of Carver
who never deserted him. One of these, Dr. Lettsom, wrote in the third
edition of Carver's travels, fifteen years after the journey, as
follows: "He suggested an attempt by land across the northwest parts of
America, and actually drew a chart of his proposed route for effecting
his project, which, however visionary it may now be deemed, affords at
least a proof of the enterprising spirit of Carver."

Unmoved by the sneers of his critics, and undeterred by recollections of
Indian cruelty and perfidy, Carver arranged the details of his journey
at his private expense, and in June, 1766, he quitted Boston, and
travelling by the way of Albany and Niagara reached his headquarters,
Michillimackinac, now known as Mackinac. Here he made definite
arrangements for his serious work of exploration. At this time English
traders extended their journeys to Prairie-du-Chien for the purpose of
purchasing furs from Indians rendezvousing there, and with one of these
parties Carver was to travel, relying on the Governor of Mackinaw to
forward supplies to St. Anthony. Leaving the Fort, September 3d, and
travelling by canoe, he reached the islands of the Grand Traverse, and
there spent one night. One of the chiefs, to whom a present was given,
made, on Carver's departure, the following prayer, which is worthy of
reproduction as a specimen of Indian eloquence: "May the Great Spirit
favor you with a prosperous voyage; may He give you an unclouded sky and
smooth waters by day, and may you lay down by night on a beaver blanket
to uninterrupted sleep and pleasant dreams, and may you find continual
protection under the calumet of peace."

Carver followed the route of Joliet and Marquette through Green Bay and
up Fox River to the great town of the Winnebagoes, where he found the
Indians presided over by a queen instead of a sachem. Carver speaks of
the extreme richness of soil and abundance of cultivated products and
wild game, mentioning grapes, plums, Indian corn, beans, pumpkins,
squashes, watermelons, and tobacco from cultivation; fish from the lake;
wild fowl so abundant that frequently the sun would be obscured by them
for some minutes together, while deer, bears, and beavers were very
numerous. The usual portage was made by him from the Fox to the
Wisconsin River, into which his canoes were launched on the 8th of
October. Seven days carried him to Prairie-du-Chien, at the junction of
the Wisconsin and Mississippi, which was at that time a town of some
three hundred families and had become a great trading mart for the
adjacent tribes, who assembled in great numbers annually in the latter
part of May.

[Illustration: _The falls of_ St. Anthony _in the River_ MISSISSIPPI,
_near 2400 Miles from its entrance into the Gulf of Mexico._ (From
Carver's Book.)]

At Prairie-du-Chien Carver parted with the traders, who were to winter
at that point, and obtaining a Canadian as interpreter and a Mohawk
Indian as a servant, he purchased a canoe, and on October 19th,
proceeding up the Mississippi, he fell in with a straggling band of
Indians which barely failed of plundering him. November 1st brought him
to Lake Pepin, near which he discovered what appeared to be the remains
of extended intrenchments, centuries old, as he thought, but which are
now known to be Indian mounds, probably erected as sites for their
wigwams, so as to keep them above the annual overflow and inundation.

The coming of winter and the forming of river ice obliged him to quit
his canoe opposite the mouth of the St. Peter, or Minnesota River,
whence by land he reached the Falls of St. Anthony on November 17, 1766,
probably the first white American to visit them.

The noise and appearance of the Falls of St. Anthony impressed Carver
very strongly, and his account of them is worthy of reproduction in view
of the changes that have taken place within the past one hundred and
thirty years:

"This amazing body of waters, which are above 250 yards over, form a
most pleasing cataract; they fall perpendicularly about thirty feet, and
the rapids below, in the space of 300 yards more, render the descent
considerably greater; so that when viewed at a distance, they appear to
be much higher than they really are.

"In the middle of the Falls stands a small island about forty feet
broad and somewhat longer, on which grow a few cragged hemlock and
spruce trees; and about half way between this island and the eastern
shore is a rock lying at the very edge of the Fall, in an oblique
position, that appears to be about five or six feet broad and thirty or
forty long."

Leaving the falls, Carver proceeded up the Mississippi to the mouth of
the St. Francis, the farthest of Hennepin in 1680, discovering on the
way Rum and Goose Rivers. Warned by the severity of the cold that winter
was fast coming on, Carver returned to his canoe at the mouth of the
Minnesota River and decided to explore that stream, of which only the
lower portion had ever been visited--by Le Sueur in 1700.

Following the Minnesota about two hundred miles he reached, on December
7th, the winter camp of a large tribe of Indians, about one thousand in
number, who were designated by Carver as the Naudowessie (Santees).
Advancing boldly, with his calumet of peace fastened to the prow of his
canoe, he was received in a friendly manner. After the usual smoking of
the pipe of peace, during which he says the tent was nearly broken down
by the crowd of savages, who, as a rule, had never seen a white man, he
was treated with great respect.

Among these Indians Carver passed the winter, filling in his five
months' stay by hunting and other Indian amusements. From the Indians he
learned that the St. Lawrence, the Mississippi, and the Bourbon (the Red
River of the North) had their sources within thirty miles of each
other. This led to the natural but erroneous opinion that Carver had
reached the highest land of North America, when in reality he was at an
elevation of only twelve hundred feet.

Carver also spoke of "the Oregon, or the River of the West," as having
its sources somewhat farther to the west. This is the first time that
the word Oregon appears in literature, and Carver gives no account of
its meaning.

[Illustration: A Calumet. (From Carver's Book.)]

The Indians had traditions as to the extreme plentifulness of gold to
the west of the "Shining Mountains," of which our explorer says, on the
strength of Indian reports:

"The mountains that lie to the west of St. Peter are called the Shining
Mountains, from an infinite number of crystal stones of an amazing size
with which they are covered and which, when the sun shines full upon
them, sparkle so as to be seen at a very great distance."

Carver's enthusiasm and interest in the West led him to make the
following striking prediction, which time has fully justified. He says:

"This extraordinary range of mountains is calculated to be more than
three thousand miles in length, without any very considerable intervals,
which, I believe, surpasses anything of the kind in the other quarters
of the globe. Probably, in future ages, they may be found to contain
more riches in their bowels than those of Hindostan and Malabar, or than
are produced on the golden coast of Guinea, nor will I except even the
Peruvian mines. To the west of these mountains, when explored by future
Columbuses or Raleighs, may be found other lakes, rivers, and countries,
full fraught with all the necessaries or luxuries of life, and where
future generations may find an asylum, whether driven from their country
by the ravages of lawless tyrants, or by religious persecutions, or
reluctantly leaving it to remedy the inconveniences arising from a
superabundant increase of inhabitants; whether, I say, impelled by these
or allured by hopes of commercial advantages, there is little doubt but
their expectations will be fully gratified in these rich and unexhausted
climes."

Carver described the valley of the Minnesota as a most delightful
country, abounding with all the necessities of life, which grow
spontaneously. Fruit, vegetables, and nuts were represented as being
particularly abundant, and the sugar-maple grew in amazing numbers.

In April, 1767, the Santees descended the Minnesota in order, among
other things, to bury their dead near a remarkable cave on Lake Pepin,
known to the Indians as the "dwelling of the Great Spirit."

Finding that supplies had not been sent to the Falls of St. Anthony,
Carver returned to Prairie-du-Chien in order to get sufficient stores to
enable him to reach Lake Superior, whence he hoped to be able to cross
the continent from Grand Portage. Obtaining such supplies, he proceeded
up the Mississippi to the Chippeway River, and, after ascending to its
head, made portages to the St. Croix, and reached Lake Superior,
possibly by the river now known as the Bois Brule.

From this point Carver, in his canoe, skirted the coast of Lake Superior
to the Grand Portage, where he awaited the arrival of the Hudson Bay or
northern traders, from whom he anxiously hoped to obtain supplies that
would enable him to journey west; but he was destined to disappointment,
as nothing could be obtained from them. Carver coasted around the north
and east borders of Lake Superior, and arrived at the Falls of Ste.
Marie the beginning of October, having skirted nearly twelve hundred
miles of the shores of Lake Superior in a birch canoe.

The Sault Ste. Marie was then the resort of the Algonquin Indians, who
frequented the falls on account of the great numbers of whitefish that
filled the waters, particularly in the autumn, when that fish leaves
the lakes in order to spawn in shallow running waters.

In November, 1767, Carver arrived at Mackinac, having, as he says, "been
sixteen months on this extensive tour, travelled nearly four thousand
miles, and visited twelve nations of Indians living to the west and
north. His picture of Detroit on his return, in 1768, is of
retrospective interest.

"The town of Detroit contains upward of one hundred houses. The streets
are somewhat regular, and have a range of very convenient and handsome
barracks with a spacious parade at the south end. On the west side lies
the King's Garden, belonging to the Governor, which is very well laid
out, and kept in good order. The fortifications of the town consist of a
strong stockade, made of round piles, fixed firmly in the ground, and
lined with palisades. These are defended by some small bastions, on
which are mounted a few indifferent cannon of an inconsiderable size,
just sufficient for its defence against the Indians or an enemy not
provided with artillery. The garrison in time of peace consists of two
hundred men, commanded by a field-officer, who acts as chief magistrate
under the Governor of Canada.

"In the year 1762, in the month of July, it rained on this town and the
parts adjacent a sulphurous water of the color and consistency of ink,
some of which being collected in bottles, and wrote with, appeared
perfectly intelligible on the paper, and answered every purpose for
that useful liquid. Soon after, the Indian wars already spoken of broke
out in these parts. I mean not to say that this incident was ominous of
them, notwithstanding it is well known that innumerable well-attested
instances of extraordinary phenomena, happening before extraordinary
events, have been recorded in almost every age by historians of
veracity; I only relate the circumstance as a fact, of which I was
informed by many persons of undoubted probity, and leave my readers, as
I have heretofore done, to draw their own conclusions from it."

It is beyond question that certain chapters of Carver's work,
supplementary to his account of his personal explorations, and
especially devoted to Indians and to the natural history of the
Northwest, are practically translations of the accounts of Charlevoix,
Hennepin, and particularly of Lahontan. It does not appear from the
first part of the work that Carver was a man endowed with those powers
of observation and assimilation which are essential traits for the
successful traveller and author.

When the brief recital of his personal travels is examined, it seems
difficult to determine on what grounds his truthfulness has been
questioned by a few hostile critics. His story is simple and
straightforward, devoid of boastfulness, free from any exaggeration as
to his personal prowess, and the statement that he passed a winter of
five months in the valley of the Upper Minnesota is, in my opinion,
worthy of entire credence.

Fortunately, however, evidence of the most convincing character exists
as to Carver's residence among the Naudowessies or Santees. The
exhaustive bibliography of the Siouan languages, by Mr. James C.
Pilling, indicates that Carver is the first author who ever published a
vocabulary of the Santee tongue, and its length, eight pages, renders it
evident that it was an original compilation which must have required
considerable time and patience.

[Illustration: Naudowessie Indians.

Carver's drawing of "A man and woman of the Naudowessie," herewith
reproduced, if somewhat fanciful in its details, must be considered of
historical value as indicating in the main the costumes of the Santees
when first visited by the whites.]

The importance of Carver's charts and journals at that time was evident
to the Lords Commissioners of Trade and Plantations in England to whom
Carver was referred when praying for reimbursement of his expenses.
Carver appeared before the Board and, after an examination, was granted
authority to publish his papers. Later, after Carver had, as he says,
disposed of them and they were nearly ready for the press, an order was
issued from the Council Board requiring him to immediately turn in all
the originals of his charts, journals, and other papers relative to his
discoveries.

Meanwhile interest in the extension of English influence into the
interior of North America was waning steadily with the growing
conviction that the colonies would establish their independence, and the
Government had no mind to reimburse an enterprising American, even
though he remained loyal. Carver was reduced gradually to the greatest
straits, was compelled to sell his book for a pittance, and finally, his
end hastened by lack of proper food and suitable attendance, died in the
direst poverty in London, January 13, 1780.

His own generation could best judge as to the timeliness and importance
of Carver's exploration, and as to the value of the information set
forth in his book of travels. Suffice it to say that no less than
twenty-three editions of this book have appeared, in four languages.
This, too, at a time when the war of independence naturally destroyed
current interest in the extension of English settlements in the interior
of North America.

Explorations, however, are wisely esteemed by posterity according to the
results which flow therefrom in the shape of definite additions to the
knowledge of the world or in the more important direction of disclosing
lands suitable for colonization. In this latter manner the exploration
of Jonathan Carver and the accounts of his travels had an important
influence. They first brought into popular and accessible form
information and ideas concerning the interior parts of North America
which before had been practically inaccessible to the general public of
England and America.

Twenty-five years after this journey toward the "Shining Mountains" and
"Oregon, the River of the West," the ultimate scheme of Carver found its
justification in the success of Alexander Mackenzie, a young Scotchman,
who was the first white man to cross the continent of America to the
north of Mexico; and yet ten years later Lewis and Clark were despatched
on their famous expedition which explored the valley of the Columbia,
where in 1810, under the energetic management of John Jacob Astor, arose
the trading-post of Astoria, thus turning into reality the dreams and
aspirations of Jonathan Carver, the soldier and explorer.




IV.

CAPTAIN ROBERT GRAY,

THE DISCOVERER OF THE COLUMBIA RIVER.


Within the past century no American explorer has contributed more
materially to the welfare of the United States and to its maritime glory
than Captain Robert Gray, the discoverer of the Columbia River and the
first circumnavigator who carried the flag of the United States around
the world.

Robert Gray was born at Tiverton, R. I., in May, 1757, and in early
youth, inspired with the spirit of independence which dominated the
American Colonies, entered the naval service during the war of the
Revolution, wherein he served with credit as an officer.

At the termination of the war it is probable that he continued his
natural or acquired vocation as a seaman. At all events, we find him
first and foremost among that band of American citizens whose courage,
energy, and nautical skill enabled them to attain unsurpassed success as
whalers and sealers in the Antarctic Ocean, as traders dealing direct
with China, or as explorers and fur dealers on the unsurveyed and
dangerous coast of northwest America.

In 1787, J. Barrell, S. Brown, C. Bulfinch, J. Darby, C. Hatch, and J,
M. Pintard, merchants of Boston, associated for the purpose of combining
the fur traffic of the northwest coast of America with the silk and tea
trade of China. For this purpose they sent, under the command of Captain
John Kendrick, in 1787, the ship Columbia and the sloop Washington with
cargoes of blankets, knives, iron bars, and other articles suitable for
the northwest trade. They were provided with sea letters issued
according to a resolution of Congress, with passports from the State of
Massachusetts, and with commendatory letters from the Spanish minister
plenipotentiary to the United States.

Captain Kendrick, who commanded the Columbia, was a man of marked
ability and great energy, who withal had most enthusiastic opinions as
to the future of the Pacific Coast region, which he believed would in a
few years utterly dwarf the growing importance of the Atlantic seaboard.
Gray was the master of the Washington, and his professional standing in
the eyes of the merchants of Boston was shown by his designation as the
most desirable officer to assume command in case of death or injury to
Captain Kendrick.

Many aspersions have been cast by English writers on the policy pursued
and methods followed by Americans engaged in trading with the Indians of
the northwest coast of America. Doubtless such reflections were
justified in individual cases of Americans, as of traders of other
nationality; but the instructions given by the merchants of Boston to
Kendrick and Gray show that fair, honest, and peaceful methods were
regarded as the true means of establishing a permanent and profitable
trade. Among other injunctions were the following:

"If you make any fort or any improvement of land on the coast, be sure
you purchase the soil of the natives.... Let the instrument of
conveyance bear every authentic mark that circumstances will admit....
We cannot forbear to impress on your mind our will and expectation that
the most inviolable harmony and friendship may subsist between you and
the natives, and that no advantage may be taken of them in trading, but
that you endeavor by honest conduct to impress on their minds a
friendship for Americans." While enjoining peace, it was not to be a
peace on any terms, for thus runs the instructions: "The sea letters
from Congress and this State you will show on every proper occasion, and
although we expect you will treat all nations with respect and civility,
yet we depend you will suffer insult and injury from none without
showing that spirit which becomes a free and independent American."

The vessels sailed from Boston September 30, 1787, via the Cape Verde
and Faulkland Islands, and in January doubled Cape Horn, when they
thought the perils of storm were past. In latitude 59 deg. S., however, a
violent gale arose, which not only separated them, but also seriously
damaged the Columbia. The storm over, Kendrick found himself in a sad
plight, his consort gone, perhaps lost, his ship in an unseaworthy
condition, and the nearest spot for repairs a thousand miles distant.
This port, that of the island of Juan Fernandez, if now famous and
delightful to the adventurous mind through its associations with the
fascinating tale of Robinson Crusoe, was then most objectionable from
the fact that it was under Spanish rule and so was to be avoided by
Kendrick, whose instructions ran as follows:

"You are strictly enjoined not to touch at any port of the Spanish
dominion on the western continent of America, unless driven there by
unavoidable accident, in which case you are to give no offence to any of
the subjects of his Catholic Majesty."

Kendrick, to his surprise, was received with great kindness and aided in
repairing his injured vessel by Don Blas Gonzales, the humane commandant
of the Spanish garrison of Juan Fernandez.

Spain at this time claimed the right of exclusive jurisdiction over the
entire western continent of America by virtue of the papal concession,
1493, and by right of discovery. It had failed to colonize the northwest
coast of America, but it prohibited other nations from entering in
possession. It now illustrated its narrow and jealous policy in its
treatment of a subordinate who had ventured to assist a vessel in
distress and provided with letters from the accredited minister of Spain
to the United States. Ambrose O'Higgins, then captain-general of Chili,
under whom Gonzales was serving, on hearing of this act recalled him and
put him in arrest, pending definite orders from his own superior, Teodor
Lacroix, viceroy of Peru. After due consideration of the case the
unfortunate commandant, Gonzales, was cashiered for his remissness in
allowing a strange ship to leave Juan Fernandez instead of seizing her
and her crew. The viceroy set forth to the captain-general of Chili the
legal opinion that by the royal ordinance of November, 1692, every
foreign vessel found in those seas without a license from the court of
Spain was to be treated as an enemy, even though belonging to a friend
or ally of the king, "seeing that no other nation had, or ought to have,
any territories, to reach which its vessels should pass around Cape Horn
or through Magellan's Straits." The viceroy therefore sent a ship from
Callao to track or intercept the Columbia; the authorities on the coasts
of Peru and Chili were especially enjoined to be vigilant, and in case
any foreign vessel should appear in the country to seize her.

Under Gray's skilful handling the Washington escaped unharmed from the
hurricane, and continuing his course toward King George Sound, the
concerted rendezvous, he made the American coast, about 46 deg. N., in
August, 1788. Here he barely escaped loss of his vessel in trying to
cross the bar of an unknown river, probably the Columbia, when his ship
grounded. He, however, visited shore, and found that the sea was
perchance the less inhospitable of the two, for he was so savagely and
violently attacked by swarms of Indians that he was very glad to escape
therefrom with one seaman dead and the mate wounded.

Quitting this unfortunate place he sailed north and entered Nootka
Sound, Vancouver Island, September 17, 1788, where he found two English
vessels, the Felice and Iphigenia, sailing under the Portuguese flag and
commanded by Captains Meares and Douglass. There were no signs of the
Columbia, but her arrival a few days later relieved Gray from further
anxiety in this respect.

[Illustration: Indian Maul.]

Douglass's vessel, the Iphigenia, was in serious need of supplies and
assistance, which Gray generously furnished. Later he not only made to
the northward a successful trading trip, but in the following year, in
June, 1789, explored the whole east coast of Queen Charlotte Islands, to
which he gave the name of Washington Islands, in honor of General
Washington, then President of the United States. In another trading
excursion from Nootka Sound, Vancouver Island, Gray entered the broad
opening southeast of the island and sailed to the east-southeast fifty
miles, where he found the passage still five leagues wide. This opening
was the Straits of Fuca, and the first authentic exploration of the
strait is the account of Gray. The credit of first passing through the
entire length of the Straits of Fuca is due to Kendrick, who made the
passage in the sloop Washington, after the departure of Gray to China on
the Columbia.

The account of the passage of the Washington through the Straits of Fuca
was especially called to Vancouver's attention by the British Admiralty
on the occasion of his surveying voyage of 1791, when he was
particularly to "examine the supposed Strait of Juan de Fuca, said to be
situated between the forty-eighth and forty-ninth north latitude, and to
lead to an opening through which the sloop Washington was reported to
have passed in 1789, and to have come out again to the northward of
Nootka." Vancouver later denied to Americans the credit of first sailing
entirely through the Straits of Fuca, resting his opinion on Gray's
statement that he sailed only fifty miles within it, which was true; the
credit belonging to Kendrick in his voyage with the Washington after
Gray's departure from the coast in 1789.

The efforts of Kendrick and Gray resulted in the obtaining of a full
cargo of furs, which in accordance with their instructions were to be
sold in China. Kendrick, fascinated with the prospects of fortune and
success, and perhaps reluctant to face his owners owing to his lack of
caution which resulted in the unfortunate killing of some thirty
natives, decided to remain on the northwest coast, his imaginary
Eldorado.

Gray consequently transferred to the Columbia and set sail for Canton,
then the great fur mart of the world. His voyage across the Pacific was
prosperous, his furs were readily sold, and after taking a cargo of tea
on board, Gray sailed for the Cape of Good Hope, and on the 10th of
August, 1790, the Columbia entered the port of Boston, the first vessel
to circumnavigate the world under the flag of the United States.

His success and conduct so impressed the owners of the ship that they
immediately decided upon sending Gray back to the northwest coast, and
seven weeks later, September 28, 1790, he sailed in the Columbia, which
was described as a ship of two hundred and twelve tons, manned by thirty
men, and equipped with an armament of ten guns.

Gray was also provided with a sea letter signed by George Washington,
then President, which ran as follows:

  "To all Emperors, Kings, Sovereign princes, State and Regents and to
  their respective officers, civil and military and to all others whom
  it may concern.

  "I, George Washington, President of the United States of America do
  make known that Robert Gray, Captain of a ship called the Columbia of
  the burden of about 230 tons, is a citizen of the United States and
  that the said ship which he commands belongs to the citizens of the
  United States; and as I wish that the said Robert Gray may prosper in
  his lawful affairs, I do request all the before mentioned, and of each
  of them separately, when the said Robert Gray shall arrive with his
  vessel and cargo, that they will be pleased to receive him with
  kindness and treat him in a becoming manner &c. and thereby I shall
  consider myself obliged.

  "September 16, 1790--New York City
    (Seal U. S.)

  "GEO. WASHINGTON,

    _President_.

  "THOMAS JEFFERSON,

    "_Secy of State_."

He further was provided with a similar letter from John Hancock, the
Governor of Massachusetts.

[Illustration: On the Shores of the Pacific.]

His letter of instructions from the owners, signed by Joseph Barrell,
enjoins, in similar and even stronger terms than those given Kendrick
three years before, friendly treatment, strict honesty, honorable
conduct, and the avoidance of unjust advantage in trade with the
natives, the shunning of Spanish ports, tender treatment of his crew,
urgency of despatch in reaching the northwest coast, and the refraining
from all unnecessary connections with foreigners or Americans. It
further speaks of Gray's rising reputation, and expresses the belief
that a regard for his own honor, and a respect for the sea letter with
which the President had honored and indulged him, would cause Gray to
doubly exert himself for the success of the voyage.

Gray used such despatch and was so fortunate that he reached Cape
Flattery, at the mouth of the Straits of Fuca, June 5, 1791, his voyage
of eight months having been devoid of any occurrence worthy of note.
Proceeding northward to Queen Charlotte Island for trade, he there fell
in with Ingraham, formerly mate of the Columbia, but now, July 23, 1791,
in command of the Hope. The autumn was spent in trading and exploring
among the islands and along the coast to the east and north of Queen
Charlotte Island. During one trip Gray penetrated an inlet near 55 deg. N.
latitude, probably the northern extension of Vancouver Strait, to a
distance of one hundred miles to the northeastward without reaching the
end of the passage, which he supposed to be the Rio de Reyes of Admiral
Fonte. Gray's visit was most unfortunate, for a portion of his crew
landing at a port on the mainland in 55 deg. N., on August 22d, a large band
of savages fell on the party and killed Joshua Caswell, his second mate,
and seamen Joseph Barns and Job Folgier. This fatal spot was therefore
named Massacre Cove.

The attitude of the Indians was a matter of constant anxiety, so that
Gray and his crew were obliged to exercise the greatest caution in all
their intercourse with such tribes as they fell in with. In Pintard
Sound, 51 deg. 30' N., near the entrance, an attack was attempted on the
Columbia, which obliged Gray to fire on the Indians, whereby two of the
chiefs were killed, but it did not excite lasting resentment, as these
savages traded with him later as though nothing had happened.

Returning to Clyoquot, Port Cox, Vancouver Island, with the Columbia,
Gray went into winter quarters. The owners had sent out the frames for a
sloop of about thirty tons, with three carpenters to build the vessel. A
fortified habitation, called Fort Defiance, was constructed for
occupancy by the working party, which finished and launched the sloop
that winter, christening her as the Adventurer.

In the spring of 1792, while the crews of the Columbia and Adventurer
were preparing for sea they were visited by many Indians, who, through
their chiefs, established such relations with a Sandwich Islander, who
was one of the crew of the Columbia, as to excite Gray's suspicions. The
Islander on being closely questioned by Gray confessed that the Indians
had formed a plan to murder the whole party and seize the vessels, the
Hawaiian to aid them by wetting the priming of all the guns, and in
return be made a chief among the Indians. Gray took immediate steps to
keep his crew on their guard during their remaining stay, and thus
completely baffled the design of the savages without bloodshed.

In April, 1792, Gray, sending the Adventurer northward under command of
Haswell, his first mate, turned himself southward, and on the 29th fell
in with Vancouver, who was approaching the northwest coast on a voyage
of exploration in the English ship Discovery, with the Rambler under
Broughton as a consort.

Vancouver eagerly sought information from Gray as to his knowledge of
the coast, which the American gave fully and cheerfully. Gray set forth
his voyages in the Straits of Fuca, around Queen Charlotte Island, and
further, that in 1788 he had "been off the mouth of a river, in the
latitude of 46 deg. 10', where the outset or reflux was so strong as to
prevent his entering for nine days." This latter information was most
surprising and distasteful to Vancouver, who, fitted out at great
expense with two vessels for exploration alone, found the accuracy of
his own observations of the coast, as recorded in his journal two days
earlier, thrown in doubt by the statements of this American trader.

Vancouver had written before meeting Gray: "The several large rivers and
capacious inlets that have been described as discharging their contents
into the Pacific, between the fortieth and forty-eighth degrees of north
latitude, were reduced to brooks insufficient for our vessels to
navigate, or to bays inaccessible as harbors. Under the most fortunate
and favorable circumstances of wind and weather, so minutely has this
extensive coast been inspected, that the surf has been constantly seen
to break on its shores from the mast-head." After hearing Gray's
relation Vancouver wrote: "If any inlet should be found, it must be a
very intricate one, and inaccessible to vessels of our burden.... I was
thoroughly convinced, as were also most persons of observation on
board, that we could not possibly have passed any safe navigable opening
harbor or place of security for shipping on this coast." Later Broughton
by Vancouver's orders entered and surveyed a part of the Columbia in the
latter part of October, 1792, when very much to his surprise he found
himself preceded by another American trader, Captain Baker, master of
the brig Jenny, of Bristol, R.I. Vancouver's report of the Columbia is
scarcely creditable to that great navigator, for he attempted to prove
that the mouth of the Columbia is an inlet separate from the main river,
and that Gray is consequently not entitled to the credit of discovering
the main river, a misstatement that cannot stand either in light of
Gray's journal or the hydrography of the river.

Doubtless Gray was sufficiently irritated by Vancouver's doubts and
criticisms as to the existence and navigability of the unknown river, to
cause him to again venture the dangers which had so nearly caused the
loss of his vessel on his previous visit. Of it Wilkes wrote: "Mere
description can give little idea of the terrors of the bar of the
Columbia. All who have seen it have spoken of the wildness of the scene,
the incessant war of the waters, representing it as one of the most
fearful sights that can possibly meet the eye of the sailor."

Gray pursued the even tenor of his way to the southward, and within two
weeks justified his previous statements by not only entering and
navigating the Columbia, but also discovered a haven (Bulfinch or Gray
Harbor) affording safe anchorage and shelter for small vessels.

The following extracts from the log-book of the ship Columbia give the
account of Gray's discoveries in his own words:

  "1792, May 7. 10 A.M. Being within six miles of the land, saw an
  entrance in land which had a very good appearance of an harbour.... At
  half-past three bore away and ran in N.E. by E. sounding from 4 to 5
  fathoms, sandy bottom, and as we drew nearer in between the bars had
  from 10 to 12 fathoms. Having a very strong tide of ebb to stem, many
  canoes came alongside, and at 5 P.M. came to in 5 fathoms of water,
  sandy bottom, in a safe harbour well sheltered from the sea by long
  sand-bars and spits. Our latitude observed this day 46 deg. 58' N." This
  harbor, called Bulfinch by Gray, now properly bears the name of its
  discoverer.

  "10 (May). Fresh breezes and pleasant weather. Many natives alongside,
  at noon all the canoes left. At 1 P.M. began to unmoor, took up the
  best bower anchor and hove short on the small anchor; at half-past
  four being high water hove up the anchor and came to sail and a
  beating down the harbour.

  "11. At half-past 7 we were out clear of the bar and directed our
  course to the southward along shore. At 8 P.M. the entrance of
  Bulfinch harbour bore N., distant 4 miles, the S. one extreme of the
  land, bore SSE. 1/2 E.: the N. ditto, NNNW. Sent up the main top-gallant
  yard and set all sail. At 4 (?) P.M. saw the entrance of our desired
  port, bearing ESE., distance 6 leagues, in steering sails and hauled
  our wind in shore. At 8 A. (P.?) M. being a little to the windward of
  the entrance to the harbour, bore away and run in ENE between the
  breakers having from 5 to 7 fathoms water. When we were over the bar
  _we found this to be a large river of fresh water_, up which we stood.
  Many canoes came alongside. At 1 (11?) P.M. came to with the small
  bower in 10 fathoms, black and white sand; the entrance between the
  bars bore WSW, distance 10 miles. The north side of the river, a half
  mile distant from the ship, the south side 21/2 miles distance; a
  village (Chinook) on the north side of the river, W. by N., distance 3/4
  of a mile. Vast numbers of natives came alongside. People employed in
  pumping the salt water out of our water-casks in order to fill with
  fresh water which the ship floated in. So ends.

       *       *       *       *       *

  "(May) 14. Sailed upwards of 13 or 15 miles, when the channel was so
  very narrow that it was almost impossible to keep it.... Ship took
  ground, but she did not lay long before she came off without any
  assistance.

       *       *       *       *       *

  "The jolly-boat was sent to sound the channel out but found it not
  navigable any farther up; so, of course, we must have taken the wrong
  channel.

       *       *       *       *       *

  "15 (May). ... In the afternoon Capt. Gray and Mr. Hoskins in the
  jolly-boat went on shore to take a short view of the country....

  "19 (May). ... Capt. Gray gave this river the name of Columbia's
  river, and the north side of the entrance Cape Hancock, the south side
  of the entrance, Adams Point."

The day following (20th) Gray left the river, crossing the bar after
several attempts, and sailed northward to rejoin the Adventurer.

Completing his cargo of furs, Gray again visited Canton, and by his
former route returned to Boston. He married on the 4th of February,
1794, and died, while in command of a coasting vessel, in the summer of
1806, at Charleston, S. C., leaving a wife and four daughters.

On March 27, 1846, a committee of Congress considered a petition of
Martha Gray, his widow, who applied for a pension for his services to
the United States in war and as an explorer. The committee in question
considered that the most suitable return for Gray's valuable services
would be the grant of a township in Oregon, but as surveys had not yet
been made it deferred such action as then inexpedient. It recommended,
however, that Congress should pass a bill giving Mrs. Gray the sum of
five hundred dollars per annum. In its report the committee said that
Gray was the first discoverer of the country; that such discovery
conferred on the United States a title to the whole basin drained by the
river, known then as Oregon Territory; that the hazard and labor of the
journey were great, especially in the unsurveyed bar of the Columbia.

Americans did not confine their title to the valley of the Columbia to
the mere right of discovery without occupation and use, but they
proceeded to develop its capacities for trade and settlement. From the
year 1797 American vessels regularly entered the Columbia and traded
with its natives.

When in 1826 the rights of the United States in regard to Oregon were
formulated and made the subject of consideration by plenipotentiaries on
the parts of Great Britain and the United States, the claims of the
latter were urged on three grounds, the most important or first being
from their own proper right, which was founded on Gray's discovery of
the Columbia River.

If Vancouver had discovered the Columbia prior to Gray, it is impossible
to say what complications and results would have arisen in connection
with the extension and development of the United States. It is therefore
a source of endless gratification that Captain Robert Gray, by his
courage, enterprise, and seamanship, in discovering and entering the
Columbia, ultimately secured to the United States this fertile
territory, almost twice as extensive in area as Great Britian.

With its six hundred and sixty thousand of inhabitants, its great
cities, its enormous accumulations of wealth, the young empire added to
the United States through Robert Gray is fast shaping into substance the
golden visions of the enthusiastic Kendrick.




V.

CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS AND LIEUT. WILLIAM CLARK.

FIRST TRANS-CONTINENTAL EXPLORERS OF THE UNITED STATES.


The burning genius and intense patriotism of Thomas Jefferson found
their most brilliant setting in his draft of the most famous paper in
the world, the Declaration of Independence. If Jefferson thus struck the
keynote of freedom for America, he was not content with a free people
restricted in their habitat to the eastern half of the continent, and in
his ripest life gave no more conspicuous evidence of his foresight and
statesmanship than in the inauguration of a policy which comprehended in
its scope the exploration and settlement of the entire trans-Mississippi
region. He not only urged and completed the purchase of Louisiana, but
sought the extent of its natural resources, appreciated the undeveloped
wealth of the great West, and drafted a scheme of land divisions and
settlement which foreshadowed the beneficial homestead legislation of
later years.

Jefferson was for years interested in the exploration of the western
parts of North America, which were absolutely unknown save the
coast-line of the Pacific. In 1784, while in Paris, he met John Ledyard,
who had made an unsuccessful effort to organize a company for the fur
trade on the western coast of America. Ledyard, by Jefferson's advice
and intercession, attempted to cross by land to Kamschatka, and thence
to the west coast of America, and across country to the Missouri River.
Ledyard's arrest in Siberia and expulsion from the country by the
Russian Government ended this plan. In 1802 Jefferson initiated, through
the American Philosophical Society, a subscription for the exploration
of the western parts of North America, by ascending the Missouri River,
crossing the Rocky Mountains, and descending the nearest river to the
Pacific Ocean. Although only two persons were to go, Meriwether Lewis
urgently sought the appointment, and with M. Andre Michaux the voyage
was commenced; but his companion being recalled by the French minister
at Washington, the journey was abandoned.

On January 18, 1803, Jefferson, then President, recommended in a
confidential message to Congress modifications of the act regarding
trade with Indians, and with the view of extending its provisions to the
Indians on the Missouri, recommended the exploration of the Missouri
River to its source, the crossing of the Rocky Mountains, and descent to
the Pacific Ocean by the best water communication. Congress approved the
plan and voted money for its accomplishment. Captain Meriwether Lewis,
of the United States Army, who had been for nearly two years private
secretary to the President, renewed his solicitations for command, which
was given him.

Jefferson showed his versatility in the instructions to Captain Lewis,
which are a model of fulness and clearness. The route to be followed,
natural products and possibilities--animal, vegetable, and
mineral--climatic conditions, commercial routes, the soil and face of
the country, were all dwelt on. The character, customs, disposition,
territory occupied, tribal relations, means of subsistence, language,
clothing, disease, moral attributes, laws, traditions, religion,
intellectuality, extent and means of trade, war methods, with respect to
the Indian tribes visited, were to be studied and reported. The
topography of the country was to be accurately determined,
astronomically and otherwise, and the maps and notes multiplied to avoid
total loss. The good-will of the chiefs was to be sought, peaceful
methods pursued, and the inflexible opposition of any extensive force
promising bloodshed was to be met by withdrawal and retreat. The country
then being outside the limits of the United States, passports from the
ministers of Great Britain, Spain, and France were furnished.

Meriwether Lewis was born August 17, 1774, near Charlottesville, Va.,
being the son of John Lewis and Miss Meriwether, and grand-nephew of
Fielding Lewis, who married a sister of George Washington. Volunteering,
at the age of twenty, in the militia called out by Washington to put
down the Shay rising, he was made ensign of the Second Sub-Legion May
1, 1795, and appointed in First Infantry November, 1796, where he rose
to be paymaster and captain in 1800. He was a considerate and efficient
officer, an expert hunter, versed in natural history, familiar with
Indian character and customs. Appreciating his deficiencies in certain
branches of science important in this expeditionary duty, he at once
sought instruction from competent professors.

Jefferson describes Lewis as follows: "Of courage undaunted, possessing
a firmness and perseverance of purpose which nothing but impossibilities
could divert from its direction, ... honest, disinterested, liberal, of
sound understanding and a fidelity to truth so scrupulous that whatever
he should report would be as certain as seen ourselves." The management
and success of the expedition, it may here be said, fully justified the
selection by and encomiums of Jefferson.

Lewis, given his choice of associate, selected William Clark, who was
appointed by Jefferson second lieutenant of artillery. Clark was a
brother of George Rogers Clark, by whose valor and sagacity the Illinois
or Northwest Territory was secured to the United States, and this
connection made his selection for further extension of the country seem
most fitting. Moreover young Clark had qualifications and experiences
which strongly commended him to Lewis. Born in Virginia, August 1, 1770,
William Clark had a thorough knowledge of the privations and conditions
of frontier life. Skilful as a hunter, a keen observer, familiar with
military life from four years of service as a lieutenant of infantry,
and developed from his ill health, which caused him to leave the army in
1796, into a magnificent specimen of manhood, he proved so efficient a
coadjutor that his name will ever be inseparably associated with that of
Lewis.

Lewis left Washington July 5, 1803, his mission being enhanced in its
importance by the formal cession of Louisiana to the United States by
the treaty of Paris, April 30, 1803, which news reached him July 1st.
The rendezvous was at St. Louis, which was reached via Pittsburgh and
the Ohio, recruits being selected at various posts, while Lieutenant
Clark joined at Louisville, though he was not commissioned in the army
till the following March.

When the party reached St. Louis, in December, 1803, formal notice of
the transfer of Louisiana had not reached the Spanish commandant, who
would not permit their passage westward. They passed the winter in camp
opposite the mouth of the Missouri, where they built a barge with
sail-power and two smaller boats, with which they started up the
Missouri River on May 14, 1804.

The expedition, commanded by Captain Lewis, with Lieutenant Clark as
second, comprised thirty-four selected men, eleven being watermen, a
<DW64> servant, and a hunter, who was also an interpreter.

The valley of the lower Missouri was well known to the French Canadians,
who, pushed westward by the irruption of English settlers in the
Illinois region, sought isolation and freedom from foreign restraint in
the country west of the Mississippi. St. Louis was their headquarters,
but the Missouri was their field of fortune. The village of St. Charles,
with its single street, had about five hundred souls, who lived by
hunting and trade with the Indians, agriculture being quite neglected;
and an outpost of seven poverty-stricken families existed at La
Charrette, the advance guard of civilization. But the typical French
trader and trapper disdained the shelter of a roof and the restraint of
communities. His adventurous spirit pushed his frail bark into the quiet
waters of the upper Kansas, through the shallows of the Platte, under
the overshading trees of the beautiful James, along the precipitous
red-clay cliffs of the Big Sioux, and, in search of the beaver, even
penetrated the winding narrows of the Cheyenne and Little Missouri. They
did not even stop at transient visits, but, fascinated by the roving,
aimless life of the savage, took up abode with him, shared his tepee and
wanderings, adopted his customs, took his squaw to wife, until longings
strange and uncontrollable drew them back in old age to the home and
religion of their youth. One of these venturesome wanderers named
Durion, who had lived twenty years among the Sioux, was picked up on the
river and accompanied Lewis to the mouth of the James, as a much-needed
interpreter.

The mouth of the Platte was passed on July 21st, and on the next day
Lewis camped on the site of the present city of Council Bluffs, thus
named by Lewis on account of his council with the Ottoes and Missouri
Indians at this point. Here the first of a continuing series of presents
was given to the grand chief: an American flag, a large medal, which was
placed around his neck as a mark of consideration, paint, garters, cloth
ornaments, a canister of powder, and the indispensable bottle of
whiskey. The subordinate chiefs received inferior medals and presents
according to their importance. These presents were made with much form
and ceremony, wherein an important part were speeches setting forth the
transfer of the territory to the United States, the benefits of peace,
and the advantages of trade at the new post to be occupied by Americans.

Both Lewis and Clark had been accustomed to Indian life on the Eastern
frontiers, but they found much that was strange and striking among the
denizens of the great interior plains. Beyond the breech-cloth a loose
buffalo robe usually kept the savage from nudity. The necklace of
grizzly bear-claws, the ornaments of porcupine and feathers, the
scalp-poles, the conical teepes covered with gayly-figured skins, the
blue smoke up-curling from the open tent-top, the hoop-tambourine or
half-drum, the queer whip-rattle of the hoofs of goats and deer, the
bladder-rattle full of pebbles, the shaven heads of the men, the
white-dressed buffalo robe with its jingling rows of porcupine quills
and uncouth painted figures, emblematic of the brave's war-history, the
hawk-feather or eagle-plume head-dress worked with porcupine quills,
the polecat skin trailing from the young brave's moccasins, the
deer-paunch tobacco-pouch, and a score of other novelties met their
observing eyes. Among the Rickarees the octagonal earth-covered lodges,
the picketed villages, the cultivated patches of corn, beans, and
potatoes, the basket-like boats of interwoven boughs covered with a
single buffalo skin, in which squaws paddled unconcernedly over high
waves, were unknown phases of savage life.

Even the earth gave up its treasure, and they found the first of the
famous petrifactions of the trans-Missouri region in the back-bone of a
fish forty-five feet long, in a perfect state.

[Illustration: A Blackfoot Tepee.]

Game gradually grew plentiful as they ascended the river. Buffalo was
not seen till the Big Sioux was reached, but later fifteen herds and
three bands of elk were visible at one time, and near Mandan large
flocks of goats were seen crossing from their summer grazing grounds to
find west of the Missouri winter shelter in the hilly regions. As they
passed the Indians drove large flocks of migrating goats into the river,
where even boys killed the helpless animals by scores with sticks.
Indeed, the Missouri then appears to have been a hunter's paradise, for
there are mentioned among the regular game antelope, bear, beaver,
buffalo, badger, deer, elk, goats, and porcupine. Three thousand
antelope were seen at one time, and of this animal Lewis accurately
remarks: "The antelope possesses most wonderful swiftness, the acuteness
of their sight distinguishes the most distant danger, the delicate
sensibility of their smell defeats the precautions of concealment, and
when alarmed their rapid career seems more like the flight of birds than
the movements of an earthly being."

The river furnished abundant supply of cat and buffalo fish, and
feathered game, such as plover, grouse, geese, turkeys, ducks, and
pelican, also abounded; among the vegetable products are enumerated
several kinds of grapes, currants and plums, wild apples, billberries,
cherries, gooseberries, mulberries, raspberries, acorns, and hazel-nuts.

As regards the voyage thus far, it was true that the sail could rarely
be used, that the labor of propelling the boats by oar or pole was most
laborious, and that the shallows gave great trouble; but the Indians,
save a single threatening occasion, were most friendly, and the only
death, that of Sergeant Floyd, was from acute disease. Indeed, the
journey had been most attractive and free from special hazard, and when
rapidly advancing winter obliged them to go into permanent quarters, on
October 27th, it seemed rather a long hunting excursion than a dangerous
voyage of discovery.

Their winter quarters, called Fort Mandan, were on the eastern side of
the Missouri, sixteen hundred miles from St. Louis, and in latitude 47 deg.
22' N., a short distance above the present city of Bismarck. The
buildings were wooden huts, which joined and formed two sides of a
triangle, while the third side was of pickets. As the huts opened
inward, they had a stockaded place easy of defence.

On his arrival at Fort Mandan, Lewis found a Mr. McCracken, of the
Hudson Bay Company, engaged in trading for horses and buffalo robes.
During the winter ten or twelve different traders of this company
visited Mandan, and although one bore a letter from the chief factor,
Mr. Charles Chabouilles, offering any service in his power, yet it was
evident to Lewis that these traders were cultivating sentiments
unfriendly to Americans among the Indians, and Chaboneau, the
interpreter was tampered with; but the prompt and judicious action of
Lewis resulted in apologies and promises to refrain from such conduct in
future. Laroche, one of the Hudson Bay traders, desired to go west with
the expedition, but it was thought best to decline the offer. At this
time the nearest English trading-post was at the forks of the
Assiniboin, about one hundred and fifty miles distant by the way of
Mouse River.

The stay at Fort Mandan was marked by two sad experiences for the
Indians encamped near the post: an autumnal prairie fire which burned
two Indians to death, and an attack of the Sioux, wherein one Mandan was
killed and two wounded. A Frenchman, Jesseaume, living with the Indians,
served as interpreter, and they learned much of the Mandans, Rickarees,
and Minnetarees. The Rickarees appeared in a very sensible light by
refusing spirits, with the remark that they did not use it, and were
surprised that their father should present to them a liquor which would
make them fools. The sensibilities of these Indians in their peculiar
way appeared in a chief who cried bitterly at seeing a court-martial
sentence of flogging carried out on a soldier. The chief acknowledged
the necessity of exemplary punishment, and said that for the same
offence he had killed his braves, but that he never whipped any one, not
even children.

The Mandans, through intervention, made peace with the Rickarees, and
restored traps and furs which they had taken from French hunters. During
the entire winter these Indian tribes were most friendly, and their
stores of corn, obtained by the expeditionary force by trade or
purchase, were of material benefit to the party. The <DW64> was a
constant source of wonder to the crowds of Indians who visited them. The
one-eyed great chief of the Minnetarees said that some foolish young men
had told him there was a person quite black. When York, the <DW64>,
appeared, the one-eyed savage, much surprised, examined the <DW64>
closely, and spitting on a finger rubbed the skin in order to wash off
the paint, and it was not until the <DW64> showed his curly hair that the
Indian could be persuaded he was not a painted white man.

Game, though at some distance, was abundant, and seventy head of large
animals were obtained in a hunt of ten days. With regard to the Indians
Lewis says: "A camp of Mandans caught within two days one hundred goats
a short distance below us. Their mode of hunting them is to form a large
strong pen or fold, from which a fence is made of bushes gradually
widening on each side; the animals are surrounded by the hunters and
gently driven toward this pen, in which they imperceptibly find
themselves enclosed, and are then at the mercy of the hunters.

"When the Indians engage in killing buffalo, the hunters mount on
horseback and, armed with bows and arrows, encircle the herd and
gradually drive it into a plain or open place fit for the movement of
horse; they then ride in among them, and singling out a buffalo, a
female being preferred, go as close as possible and wound her with
arrows till they think they have given the mortal stroke; when they
pursue another till the quiver is exhausted. If, which rarely happens,
the wounded buffalo attacks the hunter, he evades the blow by the
agility of his horse, which is trained for the combat with great
dexterity."

The winter proved to be of unusual severity, and several times the
temperature fell to forty degrees below zero, and proof spirits froze
into hard ice. The fortitude with which the hardy savages withstood such
extreme cold, half naked as they often were, impressed our explorers.

Spring opened early, and on April 7, 1805, Fort Mandan was abandoned,
one party of ten with the barge going down the river with despatches and
specimens. Lewis and Clark with their party of thirty started up the
Missouri in six canoes and two large open boats, which had been
constructed by them. They had three interpreters--Drewyer, Chaboneau,
and his wife. Drewyer was a Canadian half-breed who had always lived in
the woods, and while he had inherited from his mother the intuitive
sagacity of the Indian in following the faintest trail, he had also
acquired to a wonderful degree that knowledge of the shifts and
expedients of camp life which is the resource and pride of the frontier
huntsman. Chaboneau's life had been largely spent among the Blackfeet,
by whom his wife, a Snake Indian, had been taken in war and enslaved
when a young girl.

At the mouth of the Little Missouri the three French hunters, who had
ventured to follow the party, stopped for trapping, as they found beaver
very plentiful. Chaboneau Creek, the farthest point on the Missouri yet
visited by white men, was passed, and on April 26th they arrived at the
mouth of the Yellowstone. Lewis was here particularly pleased with the
wide plains, interspersed with forests of various trees, and expressed
his opinion that the situation was most suitable for a trading
establishment.

Spring had now fairly opened, the trees were in leaf, a flower was seen,
and despite the scanty verdure of the new grass, game was very abundant.
In many places, however, the barren banks and sand-bars were covered
with a white incrustation of alkali salts, looking like frost or newly
fallen snow, which were present in such quantities that all the small
tributaries of the Missouri proved to be bitter and unhealthy water.
Signs of human life became rarer, but now and then they passed an old
Indian camp, and near one saw the burial place of an Indian woman. The
body, carefully wrapped in dressed buffalo robes, rested on a high
scaffold, with two sleds and harness over it. Nearby lay the remains of
a dog sacrificed to the shades of his dead mistress. In a bag were
articles fitting for women--moccasins, red and blue paint, beavers'
nails, scrapers for dressing hides, dried roots, a little Mandan
tobacco, and several plaits of sweet-smelling grass.

The oar was plied unceasingly save when a favoring wind filled their
sails and facilitated their progress. In early May they drew up their
canoes for the night at the mouth of a bold, beautiful stream, and in
the abundant timber found feeding on the young willows so many clumsy
porcupines that they called it Porcupine River. Game was present in vast
quantities; the elk were tame, and the male buffalo would scarcely quit
grazing at the approach of man. As Lewis remarks: "It has become an
amusement to supply the party with provisions."

On May 8th they dined at the mouth of a river flowing from a level,
well-watered, and beautiful country. As the water had a peculiar
whiteness they were induced to call it Milk River. The Missouri now
turned to the southwest and south, the country became more open, and
timber, of pine mostly, small and scanty.

[Illustration: Captain Meriwether Lewis.]

Although the buffalo were so tame and harmless that the men drove them
out of their way with sticks, yet the grizzly bear never failed to be a
dangerous and vicious visitor. One day six good hunters attacked a
grizzly, and four firing at forty paces, each lodged a ball in the body,
two going through the lungs. The animal ran at them furiously, when the
other hunters fired two balls into him, breaking a shoulder. The bear
yet pursued them, driving two into a canoe and the others into thickets,
from which they fired as fast as they could reload. Turning on them, he
drove two so closely that they dropped their guns and sprang from a
precipice twenty feet high into the river followed by the bear, who
finally succumbed to a shot through the head after eight balls had
passed completely through his body. Another bear, shot through the
heart, ran a quarter of a mile with undiminished speed before he fell
dead.

On the 20th, twenty-two hundred and seventy miles from St. Louis, they
came to the greenish-yellow waters of the Musselshell, and a short
distance beyond Captain Lewis caught his first glimpse of the Rocky
Mountains, the object of his hope and ambition. Beyond the Musselshell
their experiences were less pleasant: the country became more barren,
game and timber scarce, mosquitoes annoying; the high dry winds, full of
sand, made their eyes sore; the sun of midday burned, while almost every
night ice or frost chilled them.

The clear waters of the Judith River and its woods beautiful with
multitudinous mountain roses, the fragrant honeysuckle, and the tiny red
willows delighted their eyes; but the sight of a hundred and twenty-six
lately abandoned lodge-fires caused some uneasiness, as indicating a
late camping-place of a war-party of vicious northern Minnetarees or
Blackfeet.

A few miles farther, as they passed a precipice a hundred and twenty
feet high, they saw evidence of the cunning and wasteful methods of
hunting by Indians, for the remains of over a hundred buffalo were
scattered around, though the stream must have washed many away. Lewis
adds: "These buffaloes had been chased down the precipice in a way very
common on the Missouri, and by which vast herds are destroyed in a
moment. The mode of hunting is to select one of the most active and
fleet young men, who is disguised in a buffalo skin round his body. The
skin of the head, with the ears and horns, are fastened on his own head
in such a way as to deceive the buffalo. Thus dressed he fixes himself
at a convenient distance between a herd of buffalo and any of the river
precipices, which sometimes extend for several miles. His companions, in
the meantime, get in the rear and side of the herd, and at a given
signal show themselves and advance toward the buffalo. They instantly
take the alarm, and finding the hunters beside them they run toward the
disguised Indian or decoy, who leads them on at full speed toward the
river, when suddenly securing himself in some crevice of the cliff,
which he had previously fixed on, the herd is left on the brink of the
precipice. It is then in vain for the foremost to retreat or even to
stop; they are pressed on by the hindmost ranks, who, seeing no danger
but from the hunters, goad on those before them till the whole are
precipitated and the shore is strewed with their dead bodies. Sometimes
in this perilous seduction the Indian himself is either trodden under
foot or, missing his footing in the cliff, is urged down the precipice
by the falling herd."

The river now took the form of frequent rapids, which made the work of
dragging the heavy canoes very painful, and the narrative runs: "The
banks are so slippery in some places, and the mud so adhesive, that the
men are unable to wear moccasins. One-fourth of the time they are
obliged to be up to their arm-pits in the cold water, and sometimes walk
for yards over sharp fragments of rocks."

On June 3d they came to where the river divided into two large streams,
and it became of vital importance to the expedition to determine which
was the Missouri or Ahmateahza, as the Minnetarees called it, and which
they said approached very near to the Columbia. The success of the
expedition depended on the right decision, so Captain Lewis concluded to
encamp until reconnoitering columns could examine the two forks.

Lewis following up the north branch, two days' march, decided that it
was not the Missouri, and named it Maria's River. In returning he
narrowly escaped slipping over a precipice some ninety feet high. Lewis
had just reached a spot of safety when, says the narrative,

"He heard a voice behind him cry out, 'Good God, Captain, what shall I
do?' He turned instantly and found it was Windsor, who had lost his
foothold about the middle of the narrow pass and had slipped down to the
very verge of the precipice, where he lay on his belly, with his right
arm and leg over the precipice, while with the other leg and arm he was
with difficulty holding on to keep himself from being dashed to pieces
below. His dreadful situation was instantly perceived by Captain Lewis,
who, stifling his alarm, calmly told him that he was in no danger, that
he should take his knife out of his belt with the right hand and dig a
hole in the side of the bluff to receive his foot. With great presence
of mind he did this, and then raised himself on his knees. Captain Lewis
then told him to take off his moccasins and come forward on his hands
and knees, holding the knife in one hand and his rifle in the other. He
immediately crawled in this way till he came to a secure spot."

One of Lieutenant Clark's party, on the south fork, at the same time,
ran great danger from a grizzly bear which attacked near camp a man
whose gun, being wet, would not go off. The man took to a tree, so
closely followed by the animal that he struck the hunter's foot as he
was climbing. The bear showed his intention of waiting until the man
should be forced to descend, but fortunately alarmed by the cries and
signal-shots of a searching-party decamped.

While Lewis and Clark concurred in believing the south fork to be the
true Missouri, the rest of the party were unanimous in thinking the
north the right course. Finally caching their heaviest boat and all the
supplies which could well be spared, the entire party followed the south
fork.

Lewis, pushing on confidently with four men, confirmed his opinion by
reaching, on June 13th, the great falls of the Missouri, which by their
sublime majesty and stupendous magnitude fascinated him. The description
of these falls at the time of their first view by civilized man is
worthy of reproduction. The river, three hundred yards wide, was shut
in by precipitous cliffs, and "for ninety yards from the left cliff the
water falls in one smooth sheet over a precipice of eighty feet. The
rest of the river precipitates itself with a more rapid current, but
received as it falls by the irregular and projecting rocks below, forms
a splendid prospect of white foam two hundred yards in length.... This
spray is dissipated in a thousand shapes.... As it rises from the fall
it beats with fury against a ledge of rocks which extend across the
river." On examination Lewis found that "the river for three miles below
was one continued succession of rapids and cascades, overhung with
perpendicular bluffs from one hundred and fifty to two hundred feet
high; in short, it seems to have worn itself a channel through the solid
rock." At the main falls, five miles above the first, "the whole
Missouri is suddenly stopped by one shelving rock, which without a
single niche and with an edge as straight and regular as if formed by
art, stretches itself from one side of the river to the other for at
least a quarter of a mile. Over this the river precipitates itself in an
even, uninterrupted sheet to the perpendicular depth of fifty feet,
whence, dashing against the rocky bottom, it rushes rapidly down,
leaving behind it a spray of the purest foam across the river. The scene
was singularly beautiful, without any of the wild irregular sublimity of
the lower falls." In a cottonwood tree, on a small island in the middle
of the rapids, an eagle had fixed its nest, a solitary bird which had
not escaped the observation of the Indians, who had previously
described it to Lewis.

[Illustration]

On leaving the falls Lewis saw a herd of a thousand buffalo, and killed
one for supper. In his eagerness he failed to reload his rifle, when he
beheld a grizzly bear stealing on him and not over twenty paces distant.
"He felt that there was no safety but in flight. It was in the open,
level plain, ... so that there was no possible mode of concealment....
As soon as he turned the bear ran, open mouthed and at full speed, upon
him. Captain Lewis ran about eighty yards, but finding that the animal
gained on him fast ... he turned short, plunged into the river about
waist deep, and facing about presented the point of his spontoon. The
bear arrived at the water's edge within twenty feet of him, but as soon
as he put himself in this posture of defence, the animal seemed
frightened and retreated with as much precipitation as he had pursued."

The means and route for portage presented difficult problems for the
exhausted party, as it was clearly evident that the men could not carry
the boats on their shoulders such great distances. Fortunately a creek
was found at the foot of the falls, where the banks afforded easy access
to the highlands. It was first necessary to cross the Missouri, and here
the party went into camp while preparations were made for the portage.

Lieut. Clark with a few men carefully surveyed the trail to be followed,
others engaged in hunting in order to lay up a store of dried meat, and
the handy men of the party set to work on a carriage for the transport
of the boats. By good fortune they found a large cottonwood-tree, about
twenty-two inches in diameter, large enough to make the carriage-wheels,
"perhaps the only tree of that size within twenty miles." As they had
decided to cache a part of their stores and leave their largest boat
behind, its mast supplied them with two axle-trees.

In the meantime the survey of Clark showed that the series of cataracts
had an aggregate descent of three hundred and sixty-three feet in
seventeen miles, and that a very difficult portage of thirteen miles was
necessary. The country was barely practicable for travel, and was
covered with frequent patches of prickly pear, against the tiny
penetrating needles of which the moccasins of the dragging men afforded
almost no protection. To add to their misfortunes, when about five miles
from their destination the axle-trees, made of the old mast, broke, and
then the tongues of green cottonwood gave way. After diligent search
sweet-willow trees were found with which they managed, by shifts and
expedients familiar to frontiersmen, to patch up the carriage so as to
go on. It broke down so completely about a half mile from the new camp
that it was easier to carry boat and baggage on their shoulders than to
build a new conveyance. The condition of the party is evident from the
narrative:

"The men are loaded as heavily as their strength will permit; the
crossing is really painful; some are limping with the soreness of their
feet, others are scarcely able to stand for more than a few minutes from
the heat and fatigue; they are all obliged to halt and rest frequently,
and at almost every stopping-place they fall, and many of them are
asleep in an instant."

Later it was needful to repair the carriage and to travel over and over
the portage until, after ten days of weary labor, all the equipage was
above the falls.

In the meantime the hunters had accumulated nearly half a ton of dried
meat, buffalo being plenty. The grizzly bear, however, was also present,
active, aggressive, and dangerous as usual. They infested the camp at
night, causing much alarm, and once carried off buffalo-meat from a pole
within thirty yards of the men. A hunter sent out to bring in meat was
boldly attacked by a bear and narrowly escaped death, being pursued to
within forty paces of the camp. Another animal was killed when rushing
up to attack men who had to climb a tree, while making sufficient noise
to attract their rescuer, Drewyer, the interpreter and hunter, who shot
him through the head. He proved to be the largest they had seen, being
eight feet seven and a half inches long, while his fore feet measured
nine inches and hind feet seven inches across, and eleven and
three-quarters long exclusive of the talons. Another hunter was attacked
by a grizzly, fortunately near the river, so that he was able to conceal
himself under a steep bank; otherwise he would probably have lost his
life.

The perils of navigation and the chase were not all, for a cloud-burst
and hail-storm contributed to their danger and suffering. The hail was
so large and driven so furiously by the high wind that it knocked down
several of the men, one three times, bruising another very badly and
wounding some so that they bled freely. The fallen hail lay in drifts,
which in places completely covered the ground, and some of the stones
weighed three ounces and measured seven inches in circumference. Clark,
Chaboneau and his wife took shelter under shelving rocks in a deep
ravine, congratulating themselves on their protected position. Suddenly,
however, the rain fell in a solid mass, and instantly collecting in the
ravine, came rolling down in a dreadful torrent, carrying rocks and
everything before it.

"But for Lieut. Clark, Chaboneau, his wife and child would have been
lost. So instantly was the rise of the water, that as Lieut. Clark had
reached his gun and began to ascend the bank, the water was up to his
waist, and he could scarce get up faster than it rose, till it reached
the height of fifteen feet, with a furious current which, had they
waited a moment longer, would have swept them into the river just above
the Great Falls, down which they must have inevitably been
precipitated."

Though the phases of their daily life brought much that was rough and
hard, yet their privations were not unmixed with pleasures, rude though
they may seem to the city dweller. Long tramps and exciting rides after
game, side marches to commanding hill-tops for grateful views of an
unknown country--barren to the eye, perhaps, but grateful to the soul,
for were they not the first men of their race who ever looked upon
it?--or pleasant journeys through upland forests or the undergrowth of
the intervale, to search and gather whatever was beautiful to the eye,
novel to the mind, or a welcome addition to their scanty larder; such
were their rare pleasures.

Now they waded through waist-high patches of wild rye, recalling with
its fine soft beard the waving fields of grain they had left in the far
East; again they pushed on in dense copses of the sinuous redwood, whose
delicate inner bark furnished pleasant Indian tobacco to the Frenchman
and half-breed. Sometimes the trail lay through an open wood with
smaller undergrowth, where beds of odorous mint recalled his Virginian
home to Lewis; where the delicate mountain-rose, in countless thousands,
was born to blush unseen; where, if only one ripened berry to-day
invited the hunter, other kinds promised their welcome fruit in due but
later season.

Rarely did the dull gray of the sky dim the glory of a whole day, and
the short summer showers, freshening the beauty of the landscape and
abating the fervid heat of mid-summer, seemed only too infrequent. And
above all, the pure, free, upland air, that gives vigor and health to
the body, joy and lightness to the heart, almost annihilates distance to
the eye; and in breathing which, one drinks into the lungs the very wine
of life. Surely more than the heroes of Virgil's song did they feel that
sweet in their memory would abide these days forever.

Of the mountains, now always in sight, and a constant source of
inspiration to the eager explorers, those to the north and northwest
were yet snow-capped, and Lewis says: "They glisten with great beauty
when the sun shines on them in a particular direction, and most
probably from this glittering appearance have derived the name of the
Shining Mountains."

During his explorations of the country around the falls Captain Lewis
visited a remarkable and beautiful spring, near the present city of
Great Falls, Montana. Of it he writes:

"The fountain, which perhaps is the largest in America, is situated in a
pleasant level plain, about twenty-five yards from the river, into which
it falls over some steep irregular rocks, with a sudden descent of about
six feet in one part of its course. The water boils up from among the
rocks with such force near the centre, that the surface seems higher
than the earth on the sides of the fountain, which is a handsome turf of
fine green grass."

While the main party was making the portage, a detachment was "occupied
in fitting up a boat of skins, the iron frame of which, thirty-six feet
long, had been prepared for the purpose at Harper's Ferry. The iron
frame is to be covered with skins, and requires thin-shaved strips of
wood for lining. The skins necessary to cover it have already been
prepared--twenty-eight elk and four buffalo skins." This experimental
boat proved to be a total failure, and it was not till Lewis's long
journey was nearly over that he copied the skin boat of the Indian
squaws, which had excited his surprise, and found that the methods of
the locality could be followed with advantage in navigation as well as
otherwise.

[Illustration: Lieutenant William Clark.]

As the six canoes were insufficient to carry all their men and
supplies, Clark was sent ahead to find suitable wood for two more, there
being no fit trees below the falls. With much difficulty trees were
found, and two canoes, three feet wide and twenty-five and thirty-three
feet long respectively, were fashioned. Near here a deserted Indian
lodge or council house was seen. It was two hundred and sixteen feet in
circumference, made of sixteen cottonwood poles, fifty feet long,
converging toward the centre, where they were united and secured by
large withes of sinewy willow.

Although the swivel and some other articles had been cached at the head
of the falls, their loads were yet very heavy, and all walked except
those engaged in working the canoe. The windings of the river became
very tortuous, and frequent rapids made their progress correspondingly
slow and laborious.

Game was less plentiful, and, as it was necessary to save the dried and
concentrated food for the crossing of the mountains, it became somewhat
of a task to provide food for a party of thirty-two which consumed a
quantity of meat daily equal to an elk and deer, four deer or one
buffalo. Fortunately, the berries were now ripening, and, as they grew
in great quantities, proved a not inconsiderable contribution to their
food-supply. Of currants there were red, purple, yellow, and black, all
pleasant to the taste; the yellow being thought superior to any other
known variety. The purple service-berry and pinkish gooseberry were also
favorites. Besides, they made use of the very abundant and almost
omnipresent sunflower. Of it Lewis says: "The Indians of the Missouri,
more especially those who do not cultivate maize, make great use of the
seed of this plant for bread or in thickening their soup. They first
parch and then pound it between two stones until it is reduced to a fine
meal. Sometimes they add a portion of water, and drink it thus diluted;
at other times they add a sufficient proportion of marrow grease to
reduce it to the consistency of common dough and eat it in that manner.
This last composition we preferred to all the rest, and thought it at
that time a very palatable dish."

The Missouri now took in general a southerly course, and on July 18th
they reached a bold clear stream, which was named Dearborn River for the
then Secretary of War. They had intended to send back a small party in
canoes with despatches, but as they had not met the Snake Indians, and
so were uncertain as to their friendliness, it was thought best not to
weaken their already small party for hostilities. Lewis decided,
however, to send Clark, with three men, in advance to open up
communication with these Indians and, if possible, to negotiate for
horses. Clark's journey was a failure, for the Indians, alarmed at the
firing of a gun, fled into the mountains.

The mountains now closed in on the explorers and they camped one night
at a place named the Gates of the Rocky Mountains. "For five and
three-quarter miles these rocks rise perpendicularly from the water's
edge to the height of nearly twelve hundred feet. They are composed of
black granite near the base, but ... we suppose the upper part to be
flint of a yellowish brown and cream color. Nothing can be imagined more
tremendous than the frowning blackness of these rocks, which project
over the river and threaten us with destruction.... For the first three
miles there is not a spot, except one of a few yards, in which a man
could stand between the water and the towering perpendicular of the
mountains."

On July 25th Clark, who was in advance, reached the three forks of the
Missouri, where he had to camp, his party worn out, their feet full of
prickly pear needles and Chaboneau unable to go farther. The forks were
all clear pebbly streams, discharging large amounts of water. The
southeast fork was named Gallatin, the middle Madison, and the southwest
Jefferson, the latter two, of equal size, being larger branches than the
Gallatin.

At the three forks Sacajawea, the wife of Chaboneau, was encamped five
years before, when the Minnetarees of Knife River attacked the Snakes,
killed about a dozen and made prisoners of her and others of her tribe.
Strangely enough Chaboneau nearly lost his life crossing the Madison,
where Clark saved him from drowning. Lewis was struck with the seeming
indifference of the Snake woman on her return to the spot and her own
country.

The party followed Jefferson River, their journey being marked by the
killing of a panther seven and a half feet long, and the overturning of
a canoe, injuring one of the party, Whitehouse, losing some articles,
and wetting others, but the all-important powder was so well packed that
it remained dry.

"Persuaded," says the narrative, "of the necessity of securing horses to
cross the mountains, it was determined that one of us should proceed ...
till he found the Shoshones, ... who could assist us in transporting
our baggage." Captain Lewis with three men preceded, and on August 11,
saw "with the greatest delight a man on horseback, at the distance of
two miles, coming down the plain toward them. On examining him with the
glass, Captain Lewis saw that he was armed with a bow and a quiver of
arrows; mounted on an elegant horse without a saddle, and a small string
attached to the under jaw answered as a bridle. Convinced that he was a
Shoshonee, and knowing how much of our success depended on the friendly
offices of that nation, Captain Lewis was full of anxiety to approach
without alarming him, and endeavor to convince him that he was a white
man. He therefore proceeded on towards the Indian at his usual pace;
when they were within a mile of each other the Indian suddenly stopped,
Captain Lewis immediately followed his example, took his blanket from
his knapsack, and holding it with both hands at the four corners, threw
it above his head and unfolded it as he brought it to the ground, as if
in the act of spreading it. This signal, which originates in the act of
spreading a robe or skin as a seat for guests to whom they wish to show
a distinguished kindness, is the universal sign of friendship among the
Indians on the Missouri and Rocky Mountains." Unfortunately, the brave
took alarm at the movement of Lewis's companions and fled. The next day
brought them to the head-waters of the Jefferson. Here, "from the foot
of one of the lowest of these mountains, which rises with a gentle
ascent for about half a mile, issues the remotest water of the
Missouri. They had now reached the hidden sources of that river, which
had never yet been seen by civilized man; and as they quenched their
thirst at the chaste and icy fountain--as they sat down by the brink of
that little rivulet, which yielded its distant and modest tribute to the
parent ocean, they felt themselves rewarded for all their labors and all
their difficulties."

Pushing on they soon saw, to the west, high, snow-topped mountains.

"The ridge on which they stood formed the dividing line between the
waters of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. They followed a descent much
steeper than that on the eastern side, and at the distance of three
quarters of a mile reached a handsome, bold creek of cold, clear water
running to the westward. They stopped to taste for the first time the
waters of the Columbia, and, after a few minutes, followed the road
across steep hills and low hollows, till they reached a spring on the
side of a mountain. Here they found a sufficient quantity of dry willow
brush for fuel, and therefore halted for the night, and, having killed
nothing in the course of the day, supped on their last piece of pork,
and trusted to fortune for some other food to mix with a little flour
and parched meal, which was all that now remained of their provisions."

In the early morn of August 13, Lewis hastened impatiently forward
without food, and after a few hours of travel saw three Indians; but
they fled. A little later he surprised three women, and succeeded in
reaching two, who covered their heads and awaited in silence their
expected death. Showing them that he was a white man, and giving them
trinkets, they were reassured and recalled their comrade, when he
painted their cheeks with vermilion, a Shoshone custom emblematic of
peace.

The women pointed out the direction of camp, and Lewis, marching on,
soon saw a band of sixty well-mounted Indian warriors riding full speed
toward him and his two companions. With perfect composure and undaunted
courage Lewis laid down his rifle, and alone marched forward to parley
with this horde of unknown savages, relying on the integrity and
uprightness of his mission. Received with the greatest cordiality, Lewis
at once smoked a pipe of peace with them, and after giving them some
blue beads and vermilion went to their camp.

On arrival he was inducted into a council lodge and seated on a robe,
when a fire was kindled. "The chief then produced his pipe and tobacco,
the warriors pulled off their moccasins, and our party were requested to
take off their own. This being done, the chief lighted his pipe at the
fire within the magic circle, and then retreating from it, began a
speech several minutes long, at the end of which he pointed the stem
toward the four cardinal points of the heavens, beginning with the east
and concluding with the north."

By this time the day was well spent, and no food of any kind had passed
the lips of Lewis and his men since the previous day. On learning this
the chief told him that they only had cakes made of sun-dried service-
and choke-berries, which served as a hearty meal to the hungry men.
Later an Indian gave Lewis a piece of antelope and a bit of salmon,
which satisfied him that he was now on the waters of the Columbia.

The next day they had an experience of the Indian mode of hunting, which
is thus described: "The chief game of the Shoshonees is the antelope,
which, when pursued, retreats to the open plains, where the horses have
full room for the chase. But such is its extraordinary fleetness and
wind, that a single horse has no chance of outrunning it or tiring it
down, and the hunters are therefore obliged to resort to stratagem.
About twenty Indians, mounted on fine horses and armed with bows and
arrows, left camp. In a short time they descried a herd of antelopes;
they immediately separated into little squads of two or three, and
formed a scattered circle round the herd for five or six miles, keeping
at a wary distance, so as not to alarm them till they were perfectly
enclosed, and usually selecting some commanding eminence as a stand.
Having gained their positions, a small party rode toward the herd, and
with wonderful dexterity the huntsman preserved his seat, and the horse
his footing, as he ran at full speed over the hills and down the steep
ravines and along the borders of the precipices. They were soon
outstripped by the antelopes, which, on gaining the other extremity of
the circle, were driven back and pursued by the fresh hunters. They
turned and flew, rather than ran, in another direction; but there, too,
they found new enemies. In this way they were alternately pursued
backward and forward, till at length, notwithstanding the skill of the
hunters, they all escaped; and the party, after running for two hours,
returned without having caught anything, and their horses foaming with
sweat. This chase, the greater part of which was seen from the camp,
formed a beautiful scene; but to the hunters is exceedingly laborious,
and so unproductive, even when they are able to worry the animal down
and shoot him, that forty or fifty hunters will sometimes be engaged for
half a day without obtaining more than two or three antelopes."

Captain Lewis succeeded with great difficulty in persuading the band of
Shoshones to pass over the divide in order to assist in bringing his
impedimenta across. The presence of a Shoshone woman, the monstrosity of
a man entirely black, favorable barter for their horses were urged; in
short he played on their avarice, curiosity, tribal pride, and by
questioning their courage succeeded in stimulating them to make the
journey.

It transpired that Cameahwait, the Shoshone chief, was the brother of
Sacajawea, and one of the Shoshone women, now in camp, had been for some
time prisoner with her in the hands of the Minnetarees. The meeting of
these Indians after long separation disclosed such emotion as proved
their tender feelings and genuine interest in each other.

[Illustration: Castle Rock, on the Columbia River.]

A long and tedious council was held, with the usual smoke and speeches.
Lewis set forth in lively terms the strength of the government, the
advantages of trade, and the importance of hastening the day of
fire-arms and supplies by facilitating the journey. Meanwhile they were
amused, as the Indian must be, by the queer <DW64>, the sagacious and
well-trained dog, the rifles, the air-gun, clothing, canoes, etc. All
game brought in was divided; the Indians feasted on hulled corn, and
presents were liberally distributed.

The good-will of the Shoshones was finally secured, and four horses
purchased by barter; so that Lewis was to send Clark ahead to
reconnoitre the route along the Columbia, and build canoes if possible,
which the Indians declared to be impracticable, as timber was wanting,
and the river and mountains impassable. They said that for seven days
the route lay over steep, rocky mountains, with no game and only roots
for food; then for ten days an arid sandy desert, where men and horses
would perish for want of food and water. On inquiry, Clark learned that
Nez Perces came from the west by a very bad road towards the north,
where they suffered excessively from hunger and travel. Believing that
difficulties surmountable to Indians with women and children could not
be formidable, Clark pushed on with a guide, but soon found that the
Indian accounts had not been exaggerated, as he fell in with the points
of four mountains, which were rocky, and so high that it seemed almost
impossible to cross them with horses. The road lay over sharp fragments
of broken rock which had fallen from the mountains and were strewed in
heaps for miles together.

Occasionally he met small parties of Indians, who, in wretched plight
themselves, yet acted most generously, giving him, as he says, willingly
what little they possessed, which was usually a few dried berries and a
bit of salmon, never enough to entirely appease the hunger of his
famished men. Clark says:

"Our men, who are used to hardships, but have been accustomed to have
the first wants of nature regularly supplied, feel very sensibly their
wretched situation; their strength is wasting away; they begin to
express an apprehension of being without food in a country perfectly
destitute of any means of supporting life, except a few fish."

Clark's explorations showed that it was impossible to follow the river,
to which he gave the name of Lewis, as he was the first white man to
visit its waters, either by canoe or along its banks on horses. The
mountains were one barren surface of broken masses of rock which crowded
into the river, where the stream presented either continuous rapids or
series of shoals.

Meanwhile, Lewis moved his necessary baggage to the Shoshone village,
previously caching his surplus baggage and sinking his canoes for
safety. As a rule the Indians were most friendly, but during a hunting
expedition a young brave snatched up his rifle and made off with it.
Drewyer pursued him ten miles, and overtaking the women of the party,
watched his opportunity, and seeing the Indian off his guard, galloped
up to him and seized his rifle. The Indian struggled for some time, but
finding Drewyer getting too strong for him, had the presence of mind to
open the pan and let the priming fall out; he then let go his hold, and
giving his horse the whip, escaped at full speed, leaving the women at
the mercy of the conqueror.

Considerable time was spent in making needful preparations for crossing
the mountains and in negotiating for horses, of which they obtained
twenty-nine--young, vigorous animals, though in poor flesh and with sore
backs.

This necessary delay gave Lewis ample opportunity to observe the habits
and modes of life of the Shoshones, which are especially interesting as
the record of an Indian tribe before it had come in contact with the
white men. The Shoshones, or Snakes, who here number four hundred souls,
lived a migratory, wretched existence, seeking at one season the salmon
of Lewis River, at another the buffalo of the upper Missouri, and again
in the mountains barely maintaining life on roots. They were, however,
gay, frank, fair-dealing, honest, fond of ornaments, amusements, and
games of chance, kind and obliging, and somewhat given to boasting of
their warlike exploits. The narrative continues: "The mass of females
are condemned, as among all savage nations, to the lowest and most
laborious drudgery. When the tribe is stationary they collect the roots
and cook; they build the huts, dress the skins, and make clothing,
collect the wood, and assist in taking care of the horses on the route;
they load the horses, and have charge of all the baggage. The only
business of the man is to fight: he therefore takes on himself the care
of his horse, the companion of his warfare, but he will descend to no
other labor than to hunt and to fish."

Their inferior arms put them at the mercy of the Minnetarees of Knife
River, who mercilessly stole their horses and killed their braves. They
seemed an adventurous and courageous people, and Cameahwait's vehement
declaration that, with guns, they would never fear to meet their
enemies, did not seem boastful.

Their common arms are bow and arrow, shield, lance, and a weapon called
by the Chippeways, by whom it was formerly used, the poggamoggon.

Their method of producing fire was by an arrow and a dry prepared stick,
which, being rubbed together vigorously and dexterously for a few
minutes, first creates a fine dust, then bursts speedily into flame.

The great wealth of the tribe consists in large numbers of small, wiry,
and hardy horses, capable of great endurance, sure footed and fleet.
They were second in value to the women alone, who carried the baggage
when horses failed.

The Shoshones were well dressed, with shirts, leggings, and moccasins of
dressed deer, antelope, etc., skins. A robe with the hair on served as
a cloak or as a bed-covering; the shirts were ornamented with porcupine
quills of different colors and sometimes by beads, also the moccasins.
Elaborate tippets of elegant pattern were also worn, made of otter and
fringed with many ermine skins; also collars of various kinds of
sea-shells, of the sweet-scented grass, of tusks of the elk, and of the
claws of the grizzly bear.

"The names of the Indians vary in the course of their life. Originally
given in childhood from the mere necessity of distinguishing objects, or
from some accidental resemblance to external objects, the young warrior
is impatient to change it by something of his own achievement. Any
important event, the stealing of a horse, the scalping of an enemy, or
killing a brown bear, entitles him at once to a new name, which he then
selects for himself, and it is confirmed by the nation."

Everything ready, Lewis started on August 27, 1805, with twenty-nine
pack-horses, to follow Berry Creek and pass over the mountains to Indian
establishments on another branch of the Columbia. In many places a road
had to be cut, and even then was barely practicable. Sure footed as is
the Indian pony, yet all of the horses were very much injured in passing
over the steep rocky ridges. The way was so rough that the horses fell
repeatedly down the hillsides, often capsizing with their load, and
occasionally one was crippled and disabled. The journey was made yet
more disagreeable by a fall of snow and by severe freezing weather, but
the spirit of the party is shown by the mention of a "serious
misfortune, the last of our thermometers being broken." On September
6th, however, they were safely beyond the mountain in a wide valley at
the head of Clark's Fork of the Columbia, where they met about four
hundred Ootlashoots, who received them kindly and gave to them of their
only food, berries and roots. Following the river they reached
Travellers' Rest Creek, where they stopped for hunting, as they were
told the country before them had no game for a great distance. Game
proved to be so scanty that they moved onward, crossing to the
Kooskooskee, where, being without animal food, they killed a colt for
supper. Snow fell again, which would not have been so uncomfortable had
not their road fallen along steep hillsides, obstructed with dead timber
where not covered with living trees, from which the snow fell on them as
they passed, keeping them continually wet while the weather was
freezing. The road continued difficult. Game was wanting, and as they
marched they killed one after another of their colts for food. Their
horses were becoming rapidly disabled; the allowance of food scarcely
sufficed to check their hunger; while the extreme bodily fatigue of the
march, and the dreary prospects before them, began to dispirit the men.

Lewis, appreciating the gravity of the situation, sent Clark ahead, with
six hunters, who the next day was fortunate enough to kill a horse, on
which his party breakfasted and left the rest for the main expedition.
The country continued rugged, and in some places the only road was a
narrow rocky path at the edge of very high precipices. One of their
horses, slipping, rolled a hundred feet, over and over, down a nearly
perpendicular hill strewed with large rocks. All expected he was killed,
but he proved to be little injured. Their enforced fasting visibly
affected the health of the party; all lost flesh, grew weak, and were
troubled with skin eruptions, while several were more seriously ill.

On September 20th, Clark reached a village of the Chopunish or Nez
Perces, in a beautiful level valley, where he was kindly received and
well fed. Fish, roots, and berries were also obtained, which, sent to
Lewis, reached him eight miles out of the village at a time when his
party had been without food for more than a day. When the village was
reached, the party was in a deplorable condition through long fasting
and the exhausting fatigue of the march.

Purchasing from the Indians as much provisions as their weakened horses
could carry, they moved on to the forks of the Snake, where the party
slowly recruited its health and strength. They killed a horse for the
sick, while the party in general lived on dried fish and roots, the
latter causing violent pains in the stomach. Five canoes were made, and
as the men were weak they adopted the Indian method of burning them out.
The twelfth day saw their canoes finished and loaded for the final
journey, which was to lead them to the sea. Lewis cached his saddles,
the extra powder and ball, and branding his remaining horses, delivered
them to three Indians, the principal named Twisted-hair, who agreed to
take good care of them till the return of the party, when additional
presents were to be given for this service.

Their troubles now seemed to be over and they were congratulating
themselves on their safe progress, when they struck a series of fifteen
rapids. When passing the last Sergeant Gass's "canoe struck, and a hole
being made in her side she immediately filled and sank. Several men who
could not swim clung to the boat until one of our canoes could be
unloaded, and with the assistance of an Indian boat they were all
brought ashore. All the goods were so much wetted that we were obliged
to halt for the night and spread them out to dry. While all this was
exhibited, it was necessary to place two sentinels over the merchandise,
for we found that the Indians, though kind and disposed to give us aid
during our distress, could not resist the temptation of pilfering small
articles." The Snake River was in general very beautiful, but it was
filled with rapids, most of them difficult, and one strewed with rocks,
most hazardous.

Food failing, except fish and roots, they concluded, probably at the
suggestion of their Frenchmen, to change their diet, and being again
reduced to fish and roots, made an experiment to vary their food by
purchasing a few dogs, and after having been accustomed to horseflesh,
felt no disrelish to this new dish. The Chopunish have great numbers of
dogs, which they employ for domestic purposes but never eat, and the
practice of using the flesh of that animal soon brought the explorers
into ridicule as dog-eaters. "Fortunately, however," says Clark, "the
habit of using this animal has completely overcome the repugnance which
we felt at first, and the dog, if not a favorite dish, is always an
acceptable one." Elsewhere he adds, "having been so long accustomed to
live on the flesh of dogs, the greater part of us had acquired a
fondness for it, and our original aversion for it is overcome by
reflecting that on that food we were stronger and in better health than
at any period since leaving the buffalo country."

They were now in Lewis River, a broad greenish-blue stream filled with
islands and dangerous rapids, which were passed in canoes, except one
near the mouth, where a land portage of a mile was necessary. This
brought them to the junction of the Lewis and Columbia Rivers on October
17th, where they parted from the Nez Perces. These Indians lead a
painful, laborious life, brightened by but few amusements; are healthy,
comely, and generally well dressed; given to ornaments of beads,
sea-shells, feathers, and paints. In winter they collect roots and hunt
the deer on snow-shoes, toward spring cross the mountains to buy buffalo
robes, and in summer and autumn catch salmon, usually by weirs at the
rapids, in the following manner: "About the centre of each was placed a
basket formed of willows, eighteen or twenty feet in length, of a
cylindrical form and terminating in a conic shape at its lower
extremity. This was situated with its mouth upward opposite to an
aperture in the weir. The main channel of the water was conducted to
this weir, and as the fish entered it they were so entangled with each
other that they could not move, and were taken out by untying the small
end of the willow basket."

Here Lewis began to lay in stores, and, fish being out of season,
purchased forty dogs, which for weeks had proved to be the best food
available. On October 20th they again launched their canoes in the
Columbia, and pushed on through the frequent rapids, looking forward
with interest not unmixed with anxiety to the great falls of which the
Indians told them. Arrived at the head of the rapids, they made a
portage of nearly a mile, availing themselves of the assistance and
guidance of the Indians. Owing to the great labor of portages they kept
to the river when possible, and "reached a pitch of the river, which,
being divided by two large rocks, descended with great rapidity down a
fall eight feet in height. As the boats could not be navigated down this
steep descent, we were obliged to land and let them down as slowly as
possible by strong ropes of elk-skin." They all passed in safety except
one, which, being loosed by the breaking of the rope, was driven down,
but was recovered by the Indians below.

Finally they came to an extremely dangerous place where a tremendous
rock projected into the river, leaving a channel of only forty-five
yards, through which the Columbia passed, its waters thrown into
whirlpools and great waves of the wildest and most dangerous character.
As the portage of boats over this high rock was impossible in their
situation, Lewis resolved on a passage in boats, relying on dexterous
steering, which carried them through safely, much to the astonishment of
the Indians gathered to watch them. Another rapid was so bad that all
papers, guns, ammunition, and such men as could not swim made a land
portage, while Lewis and Clark took the canoes through safely, two at a
time. The 25th brought them to the most dangerous part of the narrows,
which they concluded to hazard by canoe after using precautions as to
valuable articles and men. The first three canoes escaped very well, the
fourth nearly filled, the fifth passed through with only a small
quantity of water.

On the 28th Lewis was very much gratified by seeing an Indian with a
round hat and sailor's jacket, which had come up the river by traffic;
and as he went on similar articles became common. They passed a number
of different tribes who behaved in a friendly manner, and among others
the Eneeshur, at the great falls, interested them by their cooking
utensils, which were baskets so skilfully made of bark and grass as to
serve as vessels for boiling their provisions. Some of the party were
horrified, however, by "the chief, who directed his wife to hand him his
medicine bag, from which he brought out fourteen fore-fingers, which he
told us had once belonged to the same number of his enemies whom he had
killed in fighting."

On the 31st they came to the lower falls, where the river narrowed to
one hundred and fifty yards and fell twenty feet in a distance of four
hundred yards, while below was another exceedingly bad rapid. The upper
rapid was so filled with rocks that Crusatte, the principal waterman,
thought it impracticable, so a portage of four miles was made over the
route followed by the Indians. "After their example, we carried our
small canoe and all the baggage across the slippery rocks to the foot of
the shoot. The four large canoes were then brought down by slipping them
along poles placed from one rock to another, and in some places by using
partially streams which escaped alongside of the river. We were not,
however, able to bring them across without three of them receiving
injuries which obliged us to stop at the end of the shoot to repair
them."

On November 2d, Lewis was intensely gratified by the first appearance of
tide-water, and pushed on with the greatest eagerness until he reached
Diamond Island, where "we met fifteen Indians ascending the river in two
canoes; but the only information we could procure from them was that
they had seen three vessels, which we presumed to be European, at the
mouth of the Columbia."

As he went on, small parties of Indians in canoes were seen and many
small villages, principally of the Skilloots, who were friendly, well
disposed, desirous of traffic, and visited so frequently as to be
troublesome. One Indian, speaking a little English, said that he traded
with a Mr. Haley. The weather had become foggy and rainy, but on
November 7, 1805, while pushing down the river below a village of the
Wahkiacums, the "fog cleared off and we enjoyed the delightful prospect
of the ocean--that ocean, the object of all our labors, the reward of
all our anxieties. This cheering view exhilarated the spirits of all the
party, who were still more delighted on hearing the distant roar of the
breakers, and went on with great cheerfulness."

Lewis, not content with a sight of the ocean, went on, determined to
winter on the coast. A severe storm forced him to land under a high
rocky cliff, where the party had scarcely room to lie level or secure
their baggage. It "blew almost a gale directly from the sea. The immense
waves now broke over the place where we were encamped, and the large
trees, some of them five or six feet thick, which had lodged at the
point, were drifted over our camp, and the utmost vigilance of every man
could scarcely save our canoes from being crushed to pieces. We remained
in the water and drenched with rain during the rest of the day, our only
food being some dried fish and some rain-water which we caught. Yet,
though wet and cold and some of them sick from using salt water, the men
are cheerful and full of anxiety to see more of the ocean." Here they
were confined six days, and the rain had lasted ten days, wetting their
merchandise through, spoiling their store of dried fish, destroying and
rotting their robes and leather dresses.

A series of gales and long-continued rain did not prevent Lewis and
Clark from exploring the country for a suitable place for winter
quarters. Lewis finally discovered a point of high land on the river
Neutel, where a permanent encampment was established which was called
Fort Clatsop. It was situated in a thick grove of lofty pines several
miles from the sea and well above the highest tide.

The fort consisted of seven wooden huts, which were covered in by the
20th of November and later picketed, so as to afford ample security. The
party subsisted principally on elk, of which they killed one hundred and
thirty-one. Fish and berries were much used in the early spring. Salt
was made in considerable quantities on the sea-shore, and some blubber
was secured from a stranded whale, 105 feet in length. In general, the
winter passed without serious results, except that the health of some of
the men was impaired by the almost constant rains, there being but four
days without rain in the first two months.

The conduct of the many Indian tribes with whom they had communication
was almost always friendly, and in only one or two cases did even
strange Indians from a distance show signs of hostility. The northwest
coast had been visited so often that little could be added to the
knowledge of their customs and mode of life. One comment of Lewis, is,
however, worthy of reproduction. "We have not observed any liquor of an
intoxicating quality used among these or any Indians west of the Rocky
Mountains, the universal beverage being pure water. They sometimes
almost intoxicate themselves by smoking tobacco, of which they are
excessively fond, and the pleasure of which they prolong as much as
possible by retaining vast quantities at a time, till after circulating
through the lungs and stomach, it issues in volumes from the mouth and
nostrils."

It appears surprising that Lewis was ignorant of the discovery of the
Columbia River by Captain Robert Gray, for he says that the name Point
Adams was given by Vancouver. Further, he was ignorant of the fact that
the trade at the mouth of the Columbia was conducted almost entirely by
vessels from New England. From the English phrases of the Indian, he
knew that the traders must be "either English or American," and presumed
"that they do not belong at any establishment at Nootka Sound."

The original plan contemplated remaining at Fort Clatsop until April,
when Lewis expected to renew his stock of merchandise from the traders
who yearly visited the Columbia by ship. Constant rains, however,
increased sickness among his men, while game failed to such an extent
that they only lived from hand to mouth; and as merchandise lacked
wherewith to buy food from the Indians, it became necessary to return.
On departing, he left among the Indians a number of notices setting
forth briefly the results of his expedition; one of these, through an
American trader, reached Boston via China in February, 1807, about six
months after Lewis's own return.

On March 24, 1806, the party commenced to retrace their long and
dangerous route of 4,144 miles to St. Louis. Their guns were in good
order and the stock of ammunition plentiful, but their entire stock of
trading goods could be tied up in a single blanket.

Detained by scarcity of fish, they discovered the Multonah (Willamette)
River which, hidden by an island, was not seen on their downward voyage.
Lieutenant Clark went up the valley some distance to Nechecole village,
where he saw an Indian house, all under one roof, 226 feet long.

Of the valley of the Willamette, Lewis remarks that it was the only
desirable place of settlement west of the Rocky Mountains, and it was
sufficiently fertile to support 50,000 souls. He mentions its rich
prairies, its fish, fowl, and game, its useful plants and shrubs, its
abundant and valuable timber.

The conditions of the rapids below The Dalles was such that one boat,
fortunately empty, was lost, and the upper rapids being impracticable,
they broke up or traded all their boats and canoes but two, which were
carried to the upper river. They proceeded with the horses, that had
been purchased with the greatest difficulty, Bratton, too ill to walk,
being on horseback, and on April 27th reached a village of the
Wallawallas, near the mouth of Snake or Lewis River. Here they were so
well received that Lewis says: "Of all the Indians whom we have met
since leaving the United States, the Wallawallas were the most
hospitable, honest, and sincere."

Their horses recruited to twenty-three head, cheered by information of a
new route which would save eighty miles, and with Wallawalla guides,
they moved in early May up the valley of Snake or Lewis River, and
finding it too early to cross the mountains, encamped in the forks of
the Kooskoosky, having meanwhile received back from their savage friend
Twisted-hair their thirty-eight horses intrusted to his care the
previous year. Their journey by land was marked by great scarcity of
food, which was roots or dog, except when the officers, practicing
medicine for sick Indians, obtained horses for food. The use of dog,
which was now very palatable, caused derision among the Indians. On one
occasion an Indian threw a half-starved puppy into Lewis's plate, with
laughter, which turned to chagrin when Lewis flung the animal with great
force into the savage's face and threatened to brain him with a
tomahawk. The Indians lived almost entirely on fish during the salmon
season, and on roots the rest of the year. Their houses were collected
under one roof, with many apartments, and two were seen each about one
hundred and fifty feet long. The difficulties of communicating with the
Chopunish were very great, and if errors occurred it was not
astonishing. Lewis spoke in English, which was translated by one of the
men in French to Chaboneau, who repeated it in Minnetaree to his wife.
She put it into Shoshonee to a prisoner, who translated it into
Chopunnish dialect.

An attempt in early June to cross the mountains failed, the snow being
ten feet deep on a level. On June 24th they started again, and with
great privations succeeded in following their trail of the previous
September across the Bitterroot Mountains to Traveller's-rest Creek, on
Clark Fork, which was reached June 30th.

Here the party divided in order to thoroughly explore different portions
of the country. Lewis took the most direct route to the great falls of
the Missouri, whence he was to explore Maria's River to 50 deg. N. latitude.
Clark proceeded to the head of Jefferson River, down which Sergeant
Ordway was to go in the canoes cached there. Clark himself was to cross
by the shortest route to the Yellowstone, and building canoes, descend
to its mouth and rejoin the main party at that point.

Lewis went into the Maria's River country, but was unable to proceed far
through lack of game. He there fell in with a band of Minnetarees, who
attempted to steal his arms and horses, which resulted in a skirmish
wherein two Indians were killed, the only deaths by violence during the
expedition. Then turning to the mouth of the Maria's River, they were
rejoined by Ordway's party, and on August 7th reached the mouth of the
Yellowstone, where a note from Clark informed them of his safe arrival
and camping place a few miles below.

Clark had explored portions of the valleys of the Jefferson, Gallatin,
and Madison, and had prescience of the wonders of the Yellowstone in a
boiling-hot spring discovered at the head of Wisdom River. His journey
to Clark's fork of the Yellowstone was made with comfort and safety, but
there an accident to one of his men obliged him to make canoes, during
which delay the Indians stole twenty-four of his horses.

As Lewis descended the Missouri he saw that the tide of travel and
adventure was already following in his track, and two daring
Illinoisans, Dickson and Hancock, were at the mouth of the Yellowstone
on a hunting trip. Rapidly descending the river the 23d of September saw
the party safe at St. Louis, the initial point of their great and
eventful expedition.

The great continental journey to and fro, from ocean to ocean, across
barren deserts, through dangerous waterways, over snow-clad mountains,
among savage and unknown tribes, had been accomplished with a success
unparalleled in the world of modern adventure and exploration.

This expedition was fraught with successful results second to none other
ever undertaken in the United States. The extent, fertility, and
possibilities of the great trans-Mississippi were made known, the
possibility of crossing the American continent was demonstrated, the
location of the great rivers and of the Rocky Mountains determined, the
general good-will of the interior Indians proved, and the practicability
of trade and intercourse established. Furthermore, conjoined with the
discovery of the Columbia by Gray, it laid the foundations of a claim
which, confirmed by settlement and acknowledged by Great Britain, gave
the United States its first foothold on the Pacific coast, and
ultimately secured to the American nation not only the magnificent
States of Oregon and Washington, but also the golden vales and mountains
of California.

Well might Jefferson declare that "never did a similar event (their
successful return) excite more joy through the United States. The
humblest of its citizens had taken a lively interest in the issue of
this journey."

Clark was an able and faithful assistant to the unfortunate Lewis, who
did not live to write the full story of the expedition. It seems,
however, that the disposition in some quarters to regard Clark as the
man to whom the success of the expedition was in greater part due, finds
no justification in a careful perusal of the narratives. So great a work
was enough glory for the two men, the commander and the assistant.

Clark's future career must be considered somewhat of a disappointment.
During his absence he was promoted to be a first lieutenant of
artillery, and on his return was nominated by Jefferson to be
lieutenant-colonel of the Second Infantry; but the Senate, by a vote of
twenty to nine, declined to confirm him, and he resigned his commission
as lieutenant February 27, 1807. Later he was an Indian agent and a
brigadier-general of the militia for the territory of upper Louisiana,
with station at St. Louis. In 1812 he declined an appointment as
brigadier-general, and the opportunity of having Hull's command--a
declination which was an injury to his country if he had the military
ability attributed to him. Madison appointed him Governor of the
Territory of Missouri, which office he filled from 1813 to the admission
of Missouri as a State in 1821. Contrary to his wishes, he was nominated
for the first governor, but failed of election. Monroe, in May, 1822,
appointed him Superintendent of Indian Affairs, with station at St.
Louis, which office he filled until his death, September 1, 1838.

Captain Lewis did not live to long enjoy the honors that he had so
bravely won. He reached Washington the middle of February, 1807, when
Congress, which was in session, made to both leaders and men the
donation of lands which they had been encouraged to expect as some
reward for their toil and danger.

The President considered the discoveries of sufficient importance to
present them to Congress in a special message, on February 19, 1806, and
in appreciation of Captain Lewis's valuable services, immediately
appointed him to be Governor of Louisiana, which office Lewis accepted,
resigning for that purpose from the army on March 4, 1807.

Of the civil services of Governor Lewis, Jefferson says: "He found the
Territory distracted by feuds and contentions among the officers, and
the people divided into factions.... He used every endeavor to
conciliate and harmonize.... The even-handed justice he administered to
all soon established a respect for his person and authority."

While on the way to Washington, in September, 1809, Governor Lewis, in a
fit of derangement, killed himself, thus, to quote again from Jefferson,
"depriving his country of one of her most valued citizens," who endeared
himself to his countrymen by "his sufferings and successes, in
endeavoring to extend for them the bounds of science, and to present to
their knowledge that vast and fertile country, which their sons are
destined to fill with arts, with science, with freedom, and happiness."
Surely posterity will declare that Meriwether Lewis lived not in vain.

[Illustration: Buffalo Skull.]




VI.

ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE,

EXPLORER OF THE SOURCES OF THE MISSISSIPPI AND ARKANSAS RIVERS.


The trans-continental expedition of Captain Lewis and Lieutenant Clark
was only a part of the comprehensive plan of Jefferson, which looked to
the acquiring of definite and precise information concerning not only
the extreme Northwest Territory, but also of the entire
trans-Mississippi regions, whereon might be based intelligent action, so
as to insure to the citizens of the United States the greatest benefits
of internal trade and commerce. It was surmised that the adventurous and
enterprising traders of the Hudson Bay, or Northwest Company, had
encroached on the valuable hunting grounds near the sources of the
Missouri and Mississippi rivers; while to the southwest the secretive
and jealous policy of Spain had so well guarded its limited geographical
knowledge, that the United States was in such utter ignorance of its
newly acquired territory that it was impossible to even outline a
definite proposition for the determination of exact boundary lines
between Louisiana and the province of New Spain.

The obtaining of information for the solution of these problems was
intrusted, in the order named, to a young and promising officer of the
regular army, Zebulon Montgomery Pike, then a first lieutenant and
paymaster in the First regiment of Infantry. Pike was of military stock,
as his father, Zebulon Pike, had served as a captain in the war of the
Revolution, and even then a major of his son's regiment was destined to
live to see that son fall as a general officer. The son, born at
Lamberton, N. J., aspired early to military life, and from a cadet in
the ranks rose through the grades regularly.


I. THE SOURCES OF THE MISSISSIPPI.

In 1805 the governor of Louisiana was James Wilkinson, a
brigadier-general in, and commander-in-chief of, the army of the United
States, who was then stationed at St. Louis. Pike appears to have been
considered by Wilkinson as an officer well suited to obtain definite
information about this vast territory, and consequently Lieutenant Pike,
with twenty enlisted men, was furnished provisions for four months, and,
under orders to visit the sources of the Mississippi, left St. Louis in
a large flat-boat, at about the worst season of the year, on August 9,
1805.

The first experiences were not encouraging, for the crew, through
inexperience or ill-luck, developed a faculty of picking up sawyers, or
submerged trees, which on one occasion stove the boat so badly that,
half-sinking, she was dragged with difficulty on a shoal where the
baggage could be dried and the boat repaired.

[Illustration: General Z. M. Pike.]

Here and there along the river were seen small bands of Indians, and in
due time the village of the Sacs was reached at the head of the Des
Moines rapids. The Sac chiefs, assembled in council, were told that
their great and new father had sent one of his young warriors to their
nation, in the lately acquired territory of Louisiana, to inquire as to
their wants, to give them good advice, to make peace, and to locate,
according to their wishes and needs, trading establishments and posts.
The Indians answered acceptably, but appeared to appreciate the presents
of knives, whiskey, and tobacco more than the speech. Vague rumors
obtained as to the value and importance of the lead mine near, below
Turkey River, but Mr. Dubuque, the proprietor, was too shrewd for the
young officer, and to his inquiries said that information as to the
grant, etc., was in St. Louis, that he made from ten to twenty tons of
lead yearly, and gave equally indefinite answers to other questions. A
journey of four weeks from St. Louis brought Pike to Prairie-du-Chien,
then the only place settled by white men in the whole valley of the
Mississippi above St. Louis. Originally occupied by three Frenchmen,
Giard, Antaya, and Dubuque, in 1783, it was now a scattered settlement
of thirty-seven houses, with about three hundred and seventy whites. The
Wisconsin River, which here joins the Mississippi, was yet the great
line of communication between the great lakes and the entire valley from
St. Louis northward, all goods and furs passing to and fro over the
route first traced by Joliet in his adventurous voyage of discovery in
1673. At Prairie-du-Chien the Indians assembled each autumn for the
annual trade or fair, and every spring the Indian traders here paused in
their western journey before plunging into the savage wilderness. Both
these occasions, it is needless to say, furnished frequent scenes of
violence and dissipation.

Unable to get his large barge above the rapids at Prairie-du-Chien,
Pike hired other boats above the falls and proceeded, his party
augmented by an interpreter, Pierre Roseau, and Mr. Fraser, a trader who
was going to the Falls of St. Anthony on business.

A short distance above Prairie-du-Chien, Pike had a council with the
Sioux, who evidently were recovering from a feast, and here he saw a
religious puff dance, "the performance of which was attended with many
curious manoeuvres. Men and women danced indiscriminately. They were all
dressed in the gayest manner; all had in their hands a small skin of
some description, and would frequently run up, point their skin, and
give a puff with their breath; when the person blown at, whether man or
woman, would fall and appear to be almost lifeless, or in great agony;
but would recover slowly, rise, and join in the dance. This they called
their great medicine."

Tobacco, knives, vermilion, and whiskey cemented the good feeling, the
eight gallons of whiskey being more show than reality; for it appears
from the context to have been three-fourths water, and probably was of
the kind which Pike elsewhere called "made whiskey."

The uncertain weather of Lake Pepin nearly shipwrecked the boats, which
reached the Sioux village at the junction of the Mississippi and St.
Peters, or Minnesota, on September 11th. Here a council was held with
the Sioux, wherein two of the chiefs formally signed away a square
league of land at the Falls of St. Anthony. The true value of their
signatures may be estimated from Pike's letter to General Wilkinson,
wherein he says: "I had to fee privately two (doubtless the signers) of
the chiefs, and besides that, to make them presents at the council." In
addition to the transfer of land Pike pledged to have a trading post
established there, and urged that the Sioux maintain peaceful relations
with the Chippeways.

It is somewhat amusing to read Pike's address, where in one breath he
states that rum "occasions quarrels, murders, etc., among yourselves.
For this reason your father has thought proper to prohibit the traders
from selling you any rum;" and then accepting the situation, adds,
"before my departure I will give you some liquor to clear your throats."
There were two hundred and fifty warriors present, and it appears to
have taken sixty gallons of liquor to effect the clearing operation,
while peace with the Chippeways assumed an indefinite phase.

The Falls of St. Anthony were passed by land portage. These being the
first boats to make the portage, as Pike claims, it was with no small
feeling of relief that he saw his boats in the upper river, loaded for
the journey, on September 30th. His condition was at the best
discouraging, for as he says, "I had not accomplished more than half my
route; winter fast approaching; war existing between the most savage
nations in the course of my route; my provisions greatly diminished, and
but a poor prospect of an additional supply. Many of my men sick, and
the others not a little disheartened; our success in this arduous
undertaking very doubtful, and about to launch into an unknown
wilderness."

Rapids and shoals impeded progress somewhat, but the 10th of October
brought them to an island where the interpreter had wintered with
another Frenchman in 1797. Pike made every exertion to hasten, for he
was very desirous of reaching Crow-wing River, the highest point ever
attained by trappers in birch canoes. The bad weather, snow, injury to
his boats, and the breaking down of several of his men, combined to
render further advance impossible, and on October 16th he fixed his
winter quarters at the mouth of Pine River, 233 miles above the Falls of
St. Anthony. Pike's intentions were far from passing the winter himself
in a wretched cantonment, for his was a nature foreign to such isolation
and inactivity as the place promised.

Elsewhere he adds: "It appears to me that the wealth of nations would
not induce me to remain secluded from the society of civilized mankind,
surrounded by a savage and unproductive wilderness, without books or
other sources of intellectual enjoyment, or being blessed with the
cultivated and feeling mind of the civilized fair."

Huts were built, canoes made, game obtained, all with great difficulty
and hardship, for every burden fell on Pike, without the aid of a doctor
or assistant as his second in command. In a game country, and under
conditions where his insufficient food-supply must be eked out by the
rifle, he was such an indifferent hunter that he did the maximum of
work with the minimum of result. Unskilled in canoe-making and
management, he succeeded in building three canoes, of which one sank,
wetting and injuring his supply of ammunition, with the result that
finally he blew up his tent in drying out the powder.

Occasionally small hunting parties of Sioux or of Menominees came to the
camp, and on December 3d Mr. Dickson, who had a trading post sixty miles
to the south, visited Pike and cheered him up. Dickson possessed much
geographical information about the western country, and in addition to
useful directions as to the best route for Pike to follow, expressed his
confidence in its fullest success.

It would seem doubtful if the men shared the enthusiasm for a mid-winter
trip through an unknown country filled with savages and where game must
form a considerable part of their food. At all events, they managed to
split a canoe which their commander relied on for the journey. Pike was
dissatisfied, but not discouraged, and on December 10th started
northward with eleven men, a boat, and five sleds.

At the stockade there were nine men under Sergeant Kennerman, who was
given detailed written instructions as to his duties. Mindful of the
possible dangers to his own party, Pike also gave orders as to the
course to be pursued if his own party did not return to the cantonment
by a given date the following spring.

A boat was taken along, which the freezing river soon obliged Pike to
abandon and intrust to a young Indian for the winter. The journey was
practically made by common sleds, dragged by men harnessed up two
abreast. Often the sleds broke down, making necessary frequent changes
and portages of the baggage, but they were greatly encouraged by camping
at Crow-wing River, the farthest point ever reached by canoe.

In early January they ran across four Chippeway Indians, the tribe from
which hostility was possible. Their anxiety was speedily relieved by
finding that they were companions of Mr. Grant, a trader from the post
on Sandy Lake. Grant turned back with them, and they reached the
trading-post on Red Cedar Lake on January 3, 1806. Pike's satisfaction
at seeing a house once more was tinctured with chagrin at finding it
surmounted by a British flag. Here he tarried only a few hours and then
pushed on to Sandy Lake, where he was later joined by his men, who were
delayed by their heavy sleds. He was much surprised at the air of
comfort at Sandy Lake, where potatoes were grown in great quantities,
fish and game abundant, while the Indians furnished in trade
maple-sugar, wild oats, and rice. The Sandy Lake trading-post had been
established in 1794, and might be considered the headquarters of the
Fond-du-Lac department, in which, in 1805, there were one hundred and
nine employees, with fifty children and twenty-nine women, who were all
Indian or half-breed, there not being at that time a single white woman
northwest of Lake Superior.

[Illustration: Indian Snow-shoes.]

Pike's discerning mind noted that his methods of travel were inferior to
those followed in the country, so he built sleds after the Hudson Bay
pattern, adopted the racket or snow-shoe for the winter march, and hired
local Indian guides. Grant, the trader, accompanied him to Leech Lake,
which Pike believed to be the main source of the Mississippi, but he
could not consider it as an original discovery, as the ubiquitous
Northwest Company had an establishment on this lake, under Hugh
McGillis, in 47 deg. 16' N. latitude, about twenty miles east of Lake
Itasca, the true source of the Mississippi. On February 14th Pike
visited Red Lake and passed to the north, which carried him to the
drainage-basin of the Red River, in latitude 47 deg. 43' N. Evidently
familiar with Carver's travels, he fell into the not unreasonable error
of thinking this land "to be the most elevated part of the northeast
continent of America," whereas the head of the Minnesota is some four
hundred feet higher.

Pike held a council with the Chippeways at Leech Lake on February 14th,
when he persuaded the chiefs to give up their British flags and medals,
to promise peace with the Sioux, and to send two of their young chiefs
with him to St. Louis.

As to the trading establishments, he generously refrained from seizing
the goods, but hauled down the British flag; required the agents of the
Northwest Company to promise to issue no more flags or medals to
Indians, to have no political dealings with them, but to refer them to
agents of the United States; to obtain licenses for Indian trade from
and pay duty to the United States for all imported goods.

On February 14th he turned his face toward home, his mind free from
anxiety, though he knew the hard marches, extreme cold, and many
hardships before him. He now wore snow-shoes, but on one long march the
pressure of his racket-strings brought the blood through his socks and
moccasins, yet he marched on, keeping pace with his guide despite the
excruciating pain.

March 5th found Pike back in his stockade at Pine River, his adoption of
local methods having facilitated travel to such an extent that in his
return he nearly tripled the length of his outward marches. He found the
garrison well and safe, but was greatly disturbed to find that his
trusted sergeant, Kennerman, had indulged in riotous and extravagant
living, having drank up, eaten, given away, or traded off the best of
the food and the greater part of the liquor. The natural sequence of
such conduct appeared in an escapade where the sentinel made a Sioux
Indian drunk and then ordered him out of the tent, when the intoxicated
savage fired on the sentinel, fortunately without harm. On his return he
was fortunate enough, in a Menominee camp near the stockade, to see a
dance, called the feast of the dead, at which "every three were served
with a panful of meat, and when all were ready there was a prayer, after
which the eating commenced. It was expected we would eat up our portion
entirely, being careful not to drop a bone. We were then treated with
soup. After the eating was finished the chief again gave an exhortation,
which finished the ceremony. They gather up the fragments and threw them
in the water, lest the dogs should get them. Burning them is considered
sacreligious."

Leaving his cantonment at Pine River, by boat, on April 7th he descended
the Mississippi without any strikingly new experiences, and on the last
day of the month drew up his boat at St. Louis, with undiminished
numbers, after an absence of nearly nine months.

Pike had more than carried out his orders to explore the sources of the
great river, and did something more than give to the world the first
definite and detailed information as to the upper river and its
tributaries. He discovered the extent and importance of the British
trade in that country, brought the foreign traders under the license and
customs regulations of the United States, and broke up for all time
their political influence over the Indians. He did much to restrain the
unlawful sale of liquor to Indians by domestic traders, and not only
inspired the Indians with respect for Americans, but also induced them
to at least a temporary peace between themselves. He replaced a foreign
flag by the ensign of his own country, and for the first time brought
into this great territory the semblance of national authority and
government.


II. THE UPPER ARKANSAS RIVER AND NEW SPAIN.

Pike returned to find his services in demand for a second expedition to
the head-waters of the Arkansas and Red rivers. The original
arrangements contemplated the detail of another officer, but Pike, at
the solicitation of General Wilkinson, consented to take command of the
party, commenced his preparations at once, and received his formal
orders on June 24, 1806, less than two months after his return from the
north. In accepting this long and dangerous service, he indicates
clearly the soldierly sense of duty which actuated him. "The late
dangers and hardships I had undergone, together with the idea of again
leaving my family in a strange country, distant from their connections,
made me hesitate; but the ambition of a soldier and the spirit of
enterprise which was inherent in my breast induced me to agree."

The primary object of the expedition, according to the letter of
instructions, was to conduct to Grand Osage a deputation of freed
captives of the Osage Nation, while the subordinate purposes were the
accomplishment of a permanent peace between the Kaws and Osages and the
establishment of a good understanding with the Comanches, which latter
object, the letter runs, "will probably lead you to the head branches of
the Arkansas and Red rivers, approximated to the settlements of New
Mexico, and there you should move with great circumspection, to keep
clear of any reconnoitring parties from that province, and to prevent
alarm or offence. The executive," it was added, "is much interested in
ascertaining the direction, extent, and navigation of the Arkansas and
Red rivers," which Pike was charged to determine by sending one party
down the Arkansas, while he should return by the Red.

The written instructions were doubtless supplemented by verbal orders,
for Pike says: "The great objects in view (as I conceived) were to
attach the Indians to our Government and to acquire such geographical
knowledge of the south-western boundary of Louisiana as to enable our
Government to enter into a definite arrangement for a line of
demarcation between that territory and North Mexico."

Captain Pike's[1] force consisted of two officers, an interpreter, and
nineteen men of the army. The officers were Lieutenant James B.
Wilkinson, son of and aide-de-camp to General Wilkinson, and Doctor John
H. Robinson, the latter a volunteer without pay. The party, with
fifty-one Osage Indians, left Belle Fontaine, July 15, 1806, and
travelling by boat up the Missouri and Osage rivers reached Grand Osage,
near the head of the river, August 18th, thus accomplishing the "primary
object."

Pike found no difficulty in obtaining an audience for speeches, though
he was somewhat dismayed at the presence of one hundred and eighty-six
warriors at an assembly, to all of whom he was obliged to give liquor.
It was quite different when men and horses were wanted, and it was with
the utmost endeavor that he was able to start westward on September 1st,
with fifteen horses for his baggage, accompanied by only three Pawnees
and four Osages.

Crossing the Grand and Verdigris he passed through a beautiful country
with abundant game, but the Indians became restless, and despite his
presents and persuasions, only three accompanied him to the Pawnee
village on the Republican fork of the Kansas.

The information here obtained and the stand taken by the Pawnee chief
would have deterred a less courageous and determined man than Pike from
pushing beyond. A large Spanish force, some six hundred men, had a few
days before visited the Pawnees, when they had turned back on assurances
from the chief that he would turn back any American force.

It appears that foreign emissaries at St. Louis had sent word to the
authorities of New Spain of Pike's contemplated expedition, and steps
were immediately taken to defeat its objects. The command of the Spanish
force was assigned to Lieutenant Don Facundo Malgares, an officer of
reputation in Indian warfare, who collected one hundred dragoons and
five hundred militia at Santa Fe, N. M. Each man was mounted, had three
led animals and six months' supply of ammunition. First they descended
the Red River about seven hundred miles, with the expectation of meeting
and turning back Pike, but learned that no force had passed that way.
The Spanish commander, after holding a council with the Comanches for
the purpose of winning them over to the interests of New Spain, then
turned north to the Arkansas. Here Malgares put in camp two hundred and
forty of his men, with the worn-out and disabled stock, and with the
rest proceeded to the Pawnee village, where he distributed medals,
Spanish flags, etc., and after prejudicing them against Americans and
drawing the Pawnee chiefs as closely to Spain as possible returned to
Santa Fe, arriving there in October. This armed invasion of the
acknowledged territory of the United States and deliberate tampering
with the Indian tribes probably arose from the strained relations
between the two countries, which nearly resulted in hostilities on the
frontiers of Texas and Orleans territory in 1806, when the local forces
tacitly agreed to regard the Sabine River as the temporary boundary.

Pike first made the Osage and Kaws smoke the pipe of peace and then held
a council with the Pawnees. These latter Indians, strongly impressed by
the grand show made by the Spanish cavalry, regarded with doubt the
small force of Americans. What Pike lacked in numbers and display, he
made up in boldness of demands and in display of self-confidence. He
obliged them to take down the Spanish flag and hoist the American
ensign, but gave them permission to retain the foreign flag for
protection if the Spaniards should return.

The chief, however, insisted that the Americans must turn back, and said
that he would resist any advance by force of arms. Captain Pike, already
indignant at the unauthorized raid of the Spaniards into the territory
of the United States, listened with impatience to this threat, and
answered that so far he had not seen any blood on his path, but the
Pawnees must know that the young warriors of their great American father
were not women, to be turned back by words; that they were men, well
armed and prepared as braves to sell their lives dearly; that they
should go on, and if the Pawnees opposed, the great American father
would send other warriors to avenge the dead. This bold talk had its
effect, and the onward march met with no active opposition.

Striking southwest, and following as well as he could the broad trail
left by the Spaniards, Pike reached Arkansas, where he stopped long
enough to build canoes, in which Lieutenant Wilkinson with five soldiers
and two Osages descended the river. This officer reached the post of
Arkansas on January 6, 1807, after a journey marked by many hardships,
but no great dangers.

Captain Pike and Doctor Robinson pursued their route up the Arkansas
with the party, now reduced to fourteen soldiers and the interpreter,
Vasquez. On the 2d of November, they fell in with a large herd of wild
horses, beautiful bays, blacks, and grays, whom they were unable to
capture even with their fleetest coursers. Here also the buffalo were
present in numbers beyond imagination, as Pike thought.

The 15th of November was a marked day, for Pike records that "at two
o'clock in the afternoon I thought I could distinguish a mountain to our
right, which appeared like a small blue cloud.... In half an hour they
appeared in full view before us. When our small party arrived on the
hill they with one accord gave three cheers to the Mexican mountains."
The peak, first seen by Pike, remained in view from that day to the
27th of January, and in eternal commemoration of the hardships and
dangers of the discoverer in that journey fittingly bears in our day the
name of Pike's Peak.

Here they first strikingly realized the transparency and purity of the
mountain air, which to the eye quite annihilates distance. He writes:
"Marched at our usual hour, pushed with an idea of arriving at the
mountains, but found at night no visible difference in their appearance
from what we did yesterday." It may be added that eight days' march
brought the party only to the base of the mountains.

On November 22d he fell in with an unsuccessful war-party, composed of
sixty Pawnees, returning from a foray on the Comanches. The savages at
first acted in a friendly manner, but receiving some small presents,
demanded ammunition, corn, blankets, kettles, and indeed everything they
saw. Being refused they threw away in contempt the articles given. Pike
ordered the horses packed, when the Pawnees encircled the small party
and commenced stealing everything they could, when Pike commanded his
men to stand to arms, and to separate themselves from the savages. This
done an order was given to kill the first Indian who touched any piece
of baggage, when the Pawnees, realizing that further misconduct meant
fight, filed off and allowed them to depart.

The party was now at the present city of Las Animas, where the Arkansas
forks, and as the Spanish troops followed the main stream instead of
the Purgatory, Pike took the same route. At the Herfuano he decided to
put the main party in camp while he explored the surrounding country, so
he threw up a small breastwork, opening on the river, somewhat to the
east of the present city of Pueblo. Starting to ascend the north fork
(the main Arkansas) to the high point of a blue mountain, which he
conceived would be one day's march, it took two days to reach the base
and more than another day to reach its summit. He records that his men
had no stockings, were clad only in light summer overalls, in every way
unprovided for the inclement surroundings, the snow to their hips, the
temperature nine degrees below freezing, while in forty-eight hours the
four men had for food only one partridge and a piece of deer's rib, but
adds that they were amply compensated for their toil and hardships by
the sublimity of the view--an unbounded prairie overhung with clouds.
The summit of Grand (Pike's) Peak, bare of vegetation, snow-covered, and
double the height of the peak ascended, he thought no human being could
then have ascended, even had it been near instead of a day's march to
its base.

The December journey up the narrow, cliff-bound valley of the Arkansas
is a continuous record of hardship and suffering. The horses with
difficulty found grazing in the snow-covered valley, while the fearless
ravens lighting on the men seized meat from them, and, despite the
kicking and plunging of the horses swooped down on them and picked
their sore backs till they bled. The thermometer fell to thirty-eight
degrees below freezing, while the badness of the trail obliged the party
to cross and recross the ice-filled river, from which several froze
their feet badly. Had the weather continued so cold "some of the men,"
says Pike, "must have perished, for they had no winter clothing; I wore
myself cotton overalls."

Here the returning Spanish expeditionary column under Malgares had
turned south, skirting the mountains until it reached a practicable pass
through the Cimarron range to Taos; but the main Spanish trail failing
in the snow-covered plain Pike pursued a side trail to the northwest,
and crossing a dividing ridge came on an ice-covered stream, which, to
his surprise, ran to the northeast, and proved, as he thought, to be the
head-waters of the Platte, the south fork rising in the South Park,
where he then was. Here he found evidences of the park having been
lately frequented by large parties of Indians. Beyond this he doubtless
crossed into the Middle Park, and saw the head-waters of the Colorado
Grande, and so was the second party to reach from the Atlantic
tide-water the sources of streams draining into the Pacific.

Pike was now lost in the maze of snow-covered mountains under most
adverse circumstances, as he recites: "Eight hundred miles from the
frontiers of our country; not one person clothed for the winter, many
without blankets, having been obliged to cut them up for socks, etc.;
laying down at night on the snow or wet ground, one side burning, while
the other was pierced with cold; endeavoring to make of raw buffalo-hide
a miserable substitute for shoes;" the men falling sick, and, finally,
the country so broken and precipitous, that even the Indian horse could
not carry a pack, and three animals were lost from falls and bruises.

Pike was disconsolate, but not discouraged. He sent ahead the
interpreter and two soldiers travelling light to find a way out, while,
making five small sleds to carry the baggage and be dragged by the men,
he followed. Struggling on, nearly perishing from cold, and almost
famished for food, the 5th of January found Pike, greatly to his
mortification, in the same old valley of the Arkansas, in sight of his
camp of December 10th. Realizing that he could expect nothing further
from his few worn-out horses, and burning with mortification at his
egregious error in considering the Arkansas as the Red, Pike decided to
try on foot that journey which had failed on horseback. He at once
strengthened the small fort, left therein heavy baggage, horses, etc.,
with the interpreter and one man, while with the rest he started to
cross the mountains with packs in search of the Red River, where he
intended to send back a party to guide the pack-train to it. This in the
belief that the Red River had its sources to the southwest, instead of
in its true location hundreds of weary miles to the southeast.

Humboldt's map of New Spain, compiled from data in the City of Mexico in
1804, plainly indicates that the Spanish labored under the same error
as Pike, they also thinking the sources of the Red River to be some two
or three hundred miles northwest of their true position. This map shows
that although the main Red was well known, yet the head-waters of the
Canadian were believed to be, and were charted as, the northwest
extension of the Red to within fifty miles of the place where Pike was
later arrested. It may be added, as showing the extent of geographical
knowledge in New Spain at that time, that the upper Arkansas was known
under the name Rio Napestle, although its connection with the lower
Arkansas was only suspected. The Pecos, Colorado, Trinity, and Sabine
Rivers were also known, but the Llano Estacado, of Texas, and the plains
of Colorado, Indian Territory, and Kansas, though they had been crossed
here and there prior to 1805, were practically unknown lands, given over
to the buffalo and savages, who were popularly and correctly associated
with them.

Impressed with the belief that he finally was on the right track,
Captain Pike, on January 14, 1806, started on the eventful journey that
was to carry him into New Spain, and lead him into the hands of the
Spaniards he was charged to avoid. They marched in heavy order, every
one--man, doctor, and commander--carrying forty-five pounds of regular
baggage, besides arms, ammunition, and such food as he thought proper;
the average burden being seventy pounds per man, to be carried over a
snow-covered and mountainous country.

The general direction followed was to the southwest, and fifty miles
were made good in three days. The fourth day all wet their feet crossing
a stream, and before fire could be had no less than nine of the men,
including the two hunters, had their feet badly frozen; the temperature
fell that night to forty-three degrees below the freezing point, while
the lack of game left them without food. The next morning two men went
hunting in one direction, while Pike and the doctor went in another. The
latter two wounded a buffalo three times, but he escaped, when, says
Pike: "We concluded it was useless to go home to add to the general
gloom, and went among the rocks, where we encamped and sat up all night;
from intense cold it was impossible to sleep, hungry and without cover."
The next morning they struck a herd and wounded several buffalo, all of
which escaped. "By this time," continues Pike, "I had become extremely
weak and faint, being the fourth day since we had received sustenance.
We were inclining our course to a point of woods, determined to remain
absent and die by ourselves rather than to return to our camp and behold
the misery of our poor lads, when we discovered a gang of buffalo."
Fortunately they killed one and returned at once to camp with a heavy
load of meat, Pike arriving in such a state of exhaustion that he almost
fell fainting as he dropped his burden. "The men," he adds, had "not a
frown, nor a desponding eye--yet not a mouthful had they ate for four
days." It was found that two soldiers were so badly frozen that it was
impossible for them to proceed, and indeed it was probable that one
would lose his feet. To remain was apparent death for all, so Pike
decided to march, and left the two men, John Sparks and Thomas
Dougherty, provided with ammunition, and given all the buffalo meat
except one meal for the marching column. It was like parting with the
dying. Pike bade them face their possible fate with soldierly fortitude,
assured them that relief would be sent as soon as possible, and then
they parted, as we may well believe such comrades would, with
tears--more, doubtless, from those who marched than from those who
remained behind.

The main party under Pike struggled on over the barren, snow-covered
mountains, and after nine days, two of which without food, a march of
ninety-five miles (from the vicinity of Saguache to the neighborhood of
Del Norte) brought them quite exhausted to the banks of the Rio Grande,
which was, however, hailed as the long-expected Red River.

Descending the stream some distance, Pike established a picketed
stockade, surrounded it by a water ditch and made it quite impregnable
to any ordinary attack. On February 7th Corporal Jackson and four men
were sent back across the mountain, to bring in the baggage and see if
the frozen men were yet able to travel. The same day Dr. Robinson left
the expedition to visit Santa Fe, ostensibly carrying the papers in a
Spanish claim, but in reality to gain a knowledge of the country, the
prospects of trade, the military force, etc.--in short, as a secret
agent.

While Pike was strengthening his position and securing game, the party
returned with word that the frozen men could not yet travel, and
possibly might be crippled for life. Volunteers were called for, as the
only method now was to send to the fort in the forks of the Arkansas,
(near Pueblo) where the recuperated horses and the rear-guard were
available to bring over the snow-clad mountains the helpless soldiers.

Regarding this last journey Pike writes: "I must here remark the effect
of habit, discipline, and example in two soldiers (Sergeant William E.
Meek and private Theodore Miller). Soliciting a command of more than one
hundred and eighty miles over two great ridges of mountains covered with
snow, inhabited by bands of unknown savages, these men volunteered it,
with others, and were chosen; for which they thought themselves highly
honored."

The steadfast endurance and unfailing fortitude which enabled Pike's men
to withstand and overcome the horrors and hardships of famine, frost,
and fatigue, form but a single page of the annals of our army. Rarely
has the American soldier failed, in war or peace, for military or civic
ends, to give to the accomplishment of any important trust his utmost
endeavor, subordinating thereto comfort, health, and life, lavishing
thereon resources of helpfulness which have so often crowned with
success the most hopeless of enterprises. If the American has
individuality, assertiveness, and self-reliance, he has also, in its
good time and place, a spirit of obedience, subordination, and
solidarity which make him the typical soldier.

On February 16th, Pike was visited by a Spanish dragoon and an Indian;
and some ten days later by a Spanish officer and fifty dragoons, by whom
he was escorted to Santa Fe, where he was examined by the Spanish
Governor, Don Allencaster, on March 3d. Pike had been informed by the
Spanish lieutenant that he would be conducted to the head-waters of the
Red River, but at Santa Fe he learned that there was no intention of
permitting a geographical exploration of these unknown regions. Pike was
astonished to find in Santa Fe an American, a Kentuckian, named James
Pursley, from Bairdstown, who had made a hunting trip to the head of the
Osage in 1802, and in 1803 made a journey up the Missouri with a French
trader. Sent on a trading trip on the plains with a roving band of
Kioways, the hunting party was attacked and driven by the Sioux into the
parks of the Rocky Mountains, at the head of the Platte and Arkansas,
where Pike had seen traces of the band and their stock. From this point
the Indians sent Pursley and two of their number to Santa Fe to trade.
Here they arrived in June, 1805, eight months before Pike, and Pursley
decided to remain.

Governor Allencaster decided to send Pike and his party to Chihuahua.
Accompanied by Robinson, who rejoined him at Albuquerque, Pike passed
down the valley of the Rio Grande, through El Paso, under escort of the
gallant and courteous Malgares, and was taken before Salcedo, the
Commandant-General of Chihuahua, on April 2d. Leaving here late that
month, still under escort, he crossed the Del Norte on June 1st, passed
through San Antonio, and on July 1st was within the United States, at
Natchitoches, when he exclaimed "Language cannot express the gayety of
my heart, when I once more beheld the standard of my country!"

It is astonishing what an amount of valuable and accurate information
concerning New Spain was collected by Captain Pike during his journey
through the country. If he had been permitted to return by the way of
Red River his stock of knowledge would have been vastly inferior. His
journey was tedious, unpleasant, and humiliating, but Pike knew how to
make the best of the situation, and in so doing justified the confidence
of his superiors in sending him on so dangerous and important a service.

His field notes in New Spain were made by Pike with great difficulty, as
the Governor gave orders to Malgares not to permit the making of
astronomical observations nor the taking of notes, Pike was determined,
however, to make the best of his opportunities, and so recorded his
observations while making pretext to halt, and kept his boy as a vedette
while writing. Later he feared the loss of such notes as he had already
made, when, he continues: "Finding that a new species of discipline had
taken place, and that the suspicions of my friend Malgares were much
more acute than ever, I conceived it necessary to take some steps to
secure the notes I had taken, which were clandestinely acquired. In the
night I arose, and, after making all my men clean their pieces well, I
took my small books and rolled them up in small rolls, and tore a fine
shirt to pieces, and wrapped it around the papers and put them down in
the barrels of the guns, until we just left room for the tompions, which
were then carefully put in; the remainder we secured about our bodies
under our shirts. This was effected without discovery and without
suspicions."

Pike draws a lively and striking picture of the manners, morals,
customs, and politics of the people of New Spain, whom he characterized
as surprisingly brave, and in hospitality, generosity, and sobriety
unsurpassed by any other people, but as lacking in patriotism,
enterprise, and independence of soul.

The subsequent career of Captain Pike was short and brilliant. He
received the thanks of the Government, had his zeal, perseverance, and
intelligence formally recognized by a committee of the House of
Representatives, rose to be major, lieutenant-colonel, and
deputy-quartermaster-general in rapid succession; in the reorganization
of the army in 1812 was made colonel, and in the following year was
appointed brigadier-general a few weeks before his death, at the capture
of York (Toronto), Canada.

The day before he left for the attack on York (Toronto), General Pike
wrote to his father: "I embark to-morrow in the fleet at Sackett's
Harbor at the head of 1,500 choice troops, on a secret expedition.
Should I be the happy mortal destined to turn the scale of war, will you
not rejoice, oh my father? May Heaven be propitious, and smile on the
cause of my country. But if I am destined to fall, may my fall be like
Wolfe's--to sleep in the arms of victory." His wish was prophetic.

The orders issued to his troops indicate the high professional honor
which ever characterized Pike's life. In part they ran thus: "It is
expected that every corps will be mindful of the honor of American arms
and the disgraces which have recently tarnished our arms, and endeavor,
by a cool and determined discharge of their duty, to support the one and
wipe out the other. The property of the unoffending citizens of Canada,"
he continues, "must be held sacred; and any soldier who shall so far
neglect the honor of his profession as to be guilty of plundering the
inhabitants, shall, if convicted, be punished with death. Courage and
bravery in the field do not more distinguish the soldier than humanity
after victory; and whatever examples the savage allies of our enemies
may have given us, the general confidently hopes that the blood of an
unresisting enemy will never stain the weapon of any soldier of his
column."

Owing to the sickness of General Dearborn, Pike took command of the land
forces, and on April 27, 1813, carried the outer battery by assault, and
having silenced the fire of the main work was awaiting a white flag
when the main magazine was exploded. Pike, who had a minute before
assisted in making a wounded soldier comfortable, was fatally injured,
but his martial spirit impelled him to yet encourage his troops. A
soldier to the last, he smiled as the standard of the enemy was handed
to him, and, putting it under his head, died serenely.

Laboring under the disadvantage of insufficient instruction in youth,
Pike supplemented his deficiencies by assiduous application, and his
journal shows him studying French and other languages in the interludes
of his desperate journeys in the Northwest and Southwest. Simple-minded
and warm-hearted, he won the devotion of his men without relaxing
soldierly habits or impairing discipline. He was intelligent,
indefatigable, brave, capable of great endurance, fertile in expedients
and never distrustful of his own capabilities or of the ultimate success
of his undertakings. His early death precluded judgment as to his
qualities as a general, but certainly he had the power of origination,
organization, and administration which are essentials to military
success.

It should be recorded of his explorations that, taking into
consideration his small force, and almost inadequate means, no other man
ever contributed to the geographical knowledge of the United States an
amount comparable to that which the world owes to the heroic efforts and
indomitable perseverance of Zebulon Montgomery Pike.


FOOTNOTE:

  [1] He obtained his captaincy in August, 1806.




VII.

CHARLES WILKES,

THE DISCOVERER OF THE ANTARCTIC CONTINENT.


On the  and beautifully engraved map of the world of Gulielmus
Blaeuw (Amsterdam, 1642) are two side maps, one of the Arctic, the other
of the Antarctic, Circle. The latter represents not only the entire
Antarctic Circle as unbroken land, but also extends this great
supposititious continent some distance to the northward of the sixtieth
parallel and gives to it the name Magallanica Terra Australis Incognita.
This mythical Magellanic continent held its place, a subject of mystery
and interest to every geographer, until Captain James Cook, the greatest
of navigators, either ancient or modern, attempted its definition or
solution. His success here as elsewhere was marvellous, and on January
17, 1773, in the Resolution, first of all men, Cook penetrated the
ice-bound wastes of the Antarctic regions, reaching 67 deg. 15' S., on the
fortieth meridian E. In the following summer he completed his
circumnavigation of Southern seas in high latitudes, and penetrating the
Antarctic Circle at three widely separated points, attained, in
January, 1774, in 117 deg. W., the extraordinary high southern latitude of
71 deg. 10'. Cook thus "put an end to the search for a southern continent,
which had engrossed the attention of maritime nations for two
centuries."

[Illustration: Charles Wilkes.

(From a portrait by T. Sully.)]

Cook's discoveries led to erroneous conclusions as to the physical
constituents of the Antarctic regions. Although he had reached the Great
Southern Circle at four different places, and nearly attained it at the
fifth, yet no land therein, either island or continent, met his eager
gaze; instead there everywhere met his view a close pack of ice-floes of
enormous height and extent, with a few wind-caused breaks or channels.
Hence many geographers concluded that the Antarctic regions were
ice-covered seas, either totally or in greater part. To-day, in the
light of modern science and discovery, the opinion prevails that there
is an extensive ice-clad Antarctic land, possibly rising to the dignity
of a continent; and toward this conclusion no explorations have more
directly and largely contributed than those of the American sailor and
explorer, Charles Wilkes, of the United States Navy.

The first Antarctic land ever discovered was by an American sealer,
Captain Palmer, from Connecticut. Bellingshausen, of the Russian
Imperial Navy, in his voyage of 1821, that resulted in the discovery of
the islands of Peter and Alexander, on the sixty-ninth parallel, fell in
with the Yankee skipper immediately after he had discovered the land, to
which Bellingshausen justly attached Palmer's name. Palmer's Land,
extended into the Antarctic Circle by Biscoe's discoveries of 1832,
merges into Graham Land of the latter explorer.

Probably incited by these discoveries, France sent forth an Antarctic
expedition, under Dumont d'Irville, in 1837, and England, under Sir
James Clark Ross, the discoverer of the northern magnetic pole, in 1839.
Simultaneously with these expeditions was organized one by the United
States, for which the exceedingly liberal appropriation of $300,000 was
made.

This last expedition was authorized by the act of Congress of May 18,
1836, "for the purpose of exploring and surveying in the Great Southern
Ocean in the important interests of our commerce embarked in the whale
fisheries and other adventures in that ocean, as well as to determine
the existence of all doubtful islands and shoals, and to discover and
accurately fix the position of those which lie in or near the track
pursued by our merchant vessels in that quarter." This expedition, the
first of its character undertaken by the United States, grew out of the
vast capital employed in whaling and trade.

The expedition was first organized under Commodore Thomas Ap Catesby
Jones, United State Navy, but finally the President of the United States
appointed Lieutenant Charles Wilkes to command the squadron, and he was
formally assigned to this duty under instructions of Secretary Paulding,
dated August 11, 1838.

Charles Wilkes was born in New York City, April 3, 1798, and entering
the United States Navy as a midshipman at the age of nineteen was
promoted to be lieutenant in 1826. He had long served in the department
of charts and instruments and was especially qualified for the proposed
astronomical and surveying work connected with the expedition.

An anomalous feature of the expedition was the acceptance of appointment
as second in command by Lieutenant William L. Hudson, whose naval rank
was above that of Wilkes's. The squadron, then consisting of the sloops
of war Vincennes and Peacock, the store-ship Relief, the brig Porpoise,
and tenders Sea Gull and Flying Fish, left Norfolk, Va., August 13,
1838. Associated with Wilkes were a number of lieutenants destined to
later distinguish themselves in their country's service, among whom may
be mentioned T. P. Craven, James Alden, S. P. Lee, G. F. Emmons, and A.
L. Case, all of whom afterward rose to be rear admirals, and H. J.
Harstene, later associated with the relief of Kane. Under its
instructions the expedition was to visit Rio de Janeiro, Cape Frio, the
Rio <DW64>, Terra del Fuego, the Antarctic Ocean southward of Powell's
group to Cook's farthest, Valparaiso, the Navigators' Group, the Feejee
Islands, the Antarctic regions south of Van Dieman's Land, whence it
would return home by way of the Sandwich Islands, San Francisco,
Singapore, and the Cape of Good Hope. No ship had steam-power, nor was
any vessel of the squadron fitted with appliances for protection in ice
navigation; indeed, the squadron was a makeshift, ill-suited for so long
and dangerous a voyage. Eventually the Sea Gull was lost in a gale off
the coast of Chili, the Flying Fish proved of little use, and the
extreme slowness of the Relief delayed the voyage.

Wilkes sailed for the Antarctic regions from Orange Bay, near Cape Horn,
on February 24, 1839, but owing to the lateness of the summer
accomplished little, and spent thirty-six days in attempting to visit
Palmer's Land, which was only sighted.

A second attempt at Antarctic exploration was made by Wilkes from
Sidney, N. S. W., which was left December 21, 1839. A compact barrier of
field ice, with frequent large bergs, was fallen in with on January 11,
1840, and from this time on the ships were often in imminent danger
owing to continuous ice, impenetrable fog, bad weather, and occasional
embayment of the vessels in the ice-pack. It is scarcely needful to
enter into the details of Wilkes's perilous voyage from longitude 95 deg. E.
to 155 deg. E. and in latitudes ranging from the Antarctic Circle to the
neighborhood of the seventieth parallel. It may be mentioned, however,
that the Peacock narrowly escaped entire destruction by collision with a
heavy iceberg, which seriously injured the ship. Fortunately she cleared
the berg in time to escape crushing by the falling of detached ice
masses from the overhanging floe berg. Heavy gales and the bad sanitary
condition of the ship caused the medical officers of the Vincennes to
specially report to Wilkes that such continued exposure would so weaken
the crew by sickness as to hazard the ship and the lives of all on
board. Wilkes, however, had sighted the long-looked-for Antarctic land,
and, disregarding the warning, followed the coast-line eastward, keeping
his squadron as near it as the conditions would permit. The land was a
series of lofty mountain ranges, often snow-capped, frequently broken by
indentations, and, worst of all, shut out from immediate approach by an
almost continuous ice-barrier, which in its extent, height, and
appearance struck every beholder with admiration not unmixed with
apprehension. This barrier rose perpendicularly from the deep sea to a
height varying from one hundred to two hundred feet above the level of
the water, which gave no bottom in soundings ranging from one hundred
and fifty to two hundred and fifty fathoms. Despite this great depth of
water, the perpendicular icy barrier was evidently grounded, thus
indicating ice of a thickness of about one thousand feet.

[Illustration: The Ice-Barrier.

(From a sketch by Captain Wilkes.)]

Regarding the land discovered the first reliable observations were those
of January 16th, when land was seen by Lieutenant Ringgold, of the
Porpoise, and by Midshipmen Eld and Reynolds, of the Peacock, their
statement running as follows: "The mountains could be distinctly seen
stretching over the ice to the southwest." On the 19th land was again
visible from the Vincennes, Alden reporting it twice to Wilkes, and on
the same day high land was seen by all the crew of the Peacock. The
ships were then in longitude 154 deg. E., 66 deg. 20' S., practically on the
Antarctic Circle. On February 2d high bold land bordered by the
ice-barrier was visible to the Vincennes and Porpoise in longitude 137 deg.
E., latitude 66 deg. 12' S. Five days later the westerly trend of the land
as previously seen was confirmed by a well-defined outline of high land
rising above the perpendicular ice-barrier, the Vincennes being in
longitude 132 deg. E., latitude 66 deg. 8' S. On February 9th, in longitude 123 deg.
E., latitude 65 deg. 27' S., the land is spoken of as being indistinct. At 8
A.M. of the 12th land was reported again, in longitude 112 deg. E., latitude
64 deg. 57' S., the land being in about 65 deg. 20' S. and trending nearly east
and west.

Wilkes says of the land and of his efforts to reach it: "The solid
barrier prevented our further progress. Land was now distinctly seen
from eighteen to twenty miles distant, bearing from S.S.E. to S.W., a
lofty mountain range covered with snow, though showing many ridges and
indentations." Two days later he writes: "The 14th was remarkably clear
and the land very distinct. By measurement we made the extent of coast
of the Antarctic continent then in sight seventy-five miles and by
approximate measurement three thousand feet high."

In longitude 97 deg. E., Wilkes found the ice trending to the northward,
well out of the Antarctic Circle, and after following it near to where
Cook was stopped in February, 1773, Wilkes took his course for Sydney,
where he learned that an English sealer, Captain Balleny, had discovered
land in longitude 165 deg. E., south of and near the point where Wilkes
found the ice-barrier, and had attained a latitude of 69 deg. S. in
longitude 172 deg. E. Here Wilkes, hearing of the prospective arrival of Sir
James Clark Ross, forwarded for his benefit a tracing of the chart
prepared as the American squadron had passed along the barrier,
supplemented by the discoveries of Balleny. Ross publishes a copy of
this chart in his "Voyage to the Southern Seas," together with Wilkes's
letter, giving information not only as to discoveries, but also as to
winds, currents, and the probable position of the magnetic pole.

[Illustration: The Vincennes in a Storm.

(From a sketch by Captain Wilkes)]

Most unfortunately, on the chart transmitted to Ross by Wilkes, he
entered, without distinguishing marks, land between longitudes 160 deg. E.
and 165 deg. E., near the sixty-sixth parallel, which should have been
marked with the legend of "probable land," it being most probably the
supposed land of Lieutenant Ringgold, of the Vincennes, who on January
13, 1840, in longitude, 163 deg. E., latitude 65 deg. 8' S., to use Ringgold's
own words, "thought he could discern to the southeast something like
distant mountains." As a matter of fact, Ross found no bottom at six
hundred fathoms over this charted land, and naturally enough pointed out
that he had sailed over a clear ocean where Wilkes had laid down land.
This lack of caution on the part of Wilkes led to an acrimonious
controversy which had no good end, but tended to discredit among the
ill-informed the discoveries of land actually made by the expedition.
Ross, evidently somewhat nettled, had the questionable taste to omit
from his general South Polar Chart all of Wilkes's discoveries. This
course, it is hardly necessary to say, has not commended itself to the
best geographers, for in the standard atlas of Stieler, issued by the
famous publishing house of Justus Purthes, the discoveries claimed by
Wilkes are entered, with the legend, "Wilkes Land," extending from
longitude 95 deg. E. to 160 deg. E. It is gratifying, moreover, to note as an
evidence of the impartial justice of the Royal Geographical Society,
that it acknowledged the accuracy and extent of the discoveries of
Wilkes and of the value of his detailed narrative of the expedition, and
therefor that society awarded to him its founders' medal.

Ross, it may be added, reached the highest known latitude in the
Antarctic Circle, 78 deg. 11' S., where he discovered Victoria Land, tracing
its coast from 70 deg. to 79 deg. S. latitude, along the meridian of 161 deg. W.,
which proved to be a bold, mountainous country, practically inaccessible
and having within its limits an active volcano about twelve thousand
feet high--Mount Erebus.

On the subject of an Antarctic continent Ross says: "There do not appear
to me sufficient grounds to justify the assertion that the various
patches of land recently discovered by the American, French, and English
navigators on the verge of the Antarctic Circle unite to form a great
southern continent."

The investigations and deductions of a great scientist, the late W. B.
Carpenter, give the latest word on this subject. Carpenter says: "The
Antarctic ice-barrier is to be regarded as the margin of a polar ice-cap
whose thickness at its edge is probably about two thousand feet....
These vast masses have originally formed part of a great ice-sheet
formed by the cumulative pressure of successive snow-falls over a land
area," etc. Elsewhere he adds: "That the circumpolar area is chiefly
land and not water seems to be farther indicated," etc. The periphery of
the ice-cap is estimated to be about ten thousand miles.

Thus the ordinary man may safely believe in the existence of an
Antarctic continent whose outer margins were first skirted and
recognized as part of a great land by Charles Wilkes, of the United
States Navy.

After quitting the Southern seas, Wilkes voyaged through the Pacific
Ocean, in accordance with his original orders. In the Feejee group,
however, his experiences were most unfortunate. The pillaging of a
grounded cutter by the natives resulted in Wilkes destroying one of
their villages and capturing several of their chiefs, causing
ill-feeling which a few days later culminated in an attack on a boat's
crew, whereby Lieutenant Underwood and Midshipman Henry were killed by
the natives and others of the party were severely wounded. An attack of
a retaliatory character was made by Wilkes, who destroyed two native
towns, laid waste plantations, killed about sixty of the savages and
wounded many others.

[Illustration: View of the Antarctic Continent.

(From a sketch by Captain Wilkes.)]

At every port Wilkes and his staff of officers and scientific assistants
were most assiduous in making surveys and in acquiring knowledge of the
countries and their inhabitants. Even the most prolonged voyage must
end, and with pleasure officers and men saw again the shores of their
country, where Wilkes landed, at New York, June 10, 1842, after four
years of absence.

As might be expected, there were officers of the squadron who felt that
their merits had not been properly recognized by Lieutenant Wilkes
during this voyage of four years, and in consequence charges of a
voluminous character and under a large number of heads were brought
against him. The court which considered them acquitted Wilkes except as
regards the punishment of several of his men, which in some cases
appeared to have been more summary and severe than the regulations of
the navy justified, for which action a reprimand was administered.

The collections made by the expedition, and the scientific volumes
published in connection therewith, were very important additions to the
scientific knowledge of the world. Professor Henry, in 1871, says: "The
basis of the National Museum is a collection of the specimens of the
United States Exploring Expedition under Captain, now Admiral,
Wilkes.... The collections made by the naval expeditions--1838 to
1842--are supposed greatly to exceed those of any other similar
character fitted out by any government; no published series of results
compare in magnitude with that issued under the direction of the joint
Library Committees of Congress." Sixteen quarto volumes were issued,
five of narrative and eleven of a scientific character, while other
parts were unfortunately destroyed by fire.

The beginning of the great civil war again brought Wilkes into striking
and international prominence. Sent to the coast of Africa for the United
States steamship San Jacinto, Wilkes promptly brought her into West
Indies waters. Here he learned that the Confederate Commissioners, John
Slidell and J. M. Mason, had run the blockade and landed in Cuba, and he
decided, without consultation or orders, to capture them. The San
Jacinto was then cruising for the Confederate privateer, the Sumter, but
visited frequently the Cuban ports. Wilkes apparently accepted the
prevailing opinion that Mason and Slidell were safe from interference,
but, keeping his views to himself, he was frequently seen by one of his
subordinates to be deeply engaged in perusing international law books,
doubtless occupied in seeking for precedents in justification of his
contemplated action.

On November 1, 1861, Lieutenant J. A. Greer, navigating officer, brought
word that Mason and Slidell were booked for England by the steamer
Trent, which was to leave Havana on the 7th. On November 4th Wilkes took
station in the narrow channel of Old Bahama, through which the Trent
would naturally pass and where she could not escape being seen by the
lookout. Early on the morning of the 8th Wilkes ordered the ship cleared
for action, and when the Trent was sighted at noon, Wilkes gave his
executive officer, Lieutenant D. M. Fairfax, written instructions to
board the steamer Trent, with two armed cutters, when he was to make
prisoners of Messrs. Mason, Slidell, and their secretaries, and seize
any despatches which he might find. A round shot failed to stop the
Trent, but a shell exploding in front of her bows brought her to. After
protest, Mason and Slidell accepted the arrest, went on board the San
Jacinto, whence they were taken to New York and later confined as
prisoners at Fort Warren.

[Illustration: In an Ice-Field.]

When Wilkes landed in New York he found himself again famous, the
central figure toward which, even in that time of war, the attention of
all was turned. He was lauded by almost every citizen, praised by nearly
every journal, and was the recipient of most flattering attentions.
Complimentary banquets were given to him in New York, Boston, and
elsewhere.

The Secretary of the Navy, in a letter dated November 30, 1861, wrote:
"Especially do I congratulate you on the great public service you have
rendered in the capture of the rebel emissaries.... Your conduct in
seizing these public enemies was marked by intelligence, ability,
decision, and firmness, and has the emphatic approval of this
Department." With reference to the omission of Wilkes to capture the
Trent, the Secretary says: "The forbearance exercised in this instance
must not be permitted to constitute a precedent hereafter for
infractions of neutral obligations."

Congress was not then in session, but it met a few weeks later, when
almost the first act of the House of Representatives was to pass a joint
resolution which declared that "the thanks of Congress are due, and are
hereby tendered, to Captain Wilkes, of the United States Navy, for his
brave, adroit, and patriotic conduct in the arrest and detention of the
traitors, James M. Mason and John Slidell."

The hostile attitude of Great Britain, which country to many Americans
appeared quite ready on slight pretence to acknowledge the Southern
Confederacy, gave great anxiety to the administration. The astute
Lincoln and the diplomatic Seward, supported by the patriotic Sumner in
the Senate, and other conservative men in the House of Representatives,
after due correspondence acceded to the demands of Great Britain that
the prisoners should be released. Seward, however, justified Wilkes's
action in the main as legal, but said that he erred in releasing the
Trent; and by constituting himself as a court, and in not bringing the
steamer before an admiralty court as guilty of carrying articles
contraband of war, had acted irregularly. The United States declined to
apologize, as no offence to Great Britain was intended, and forbore from
claiming against England the right of search which that nation had so
persistently exercised.

The Naval Committee of the Senate reported without amendment the
resolution of thanks to Wilkes, but deemed it best to postpone it
indefinitely. The ordinary citizen did not share the conservative, and
it may be said the very wise, course of the administration, and the
sentiment throughout the country was very generally one of national
pride that under doubtful circumstances an American sailor had dared
rather too much than too little for the dignity and safety of his
country. Wilkes, himself, when told that possibly this act would cause
him to lose his commission, said that he deemed his seizure of the
commissioners simply a patriotic duty, and if needs be was willing to be
sacrificed for his country. He continued to perform efficient service
during the war, despite his advancing years. In 1862, while in command
of the Potomac flotilla, he shelled and destroyed City Point, and in
command of a special squadron to maintain the blockade, captured and
destroyed many blockade-runners.

With the closing of the war, and his retirement from active service,
Wilkes returned to the scientific pursuits which had always engrossed
his mind, and full of years and honor, died at Washington, February 8,
1877.

Of his early scientific labors it may be said that they had contributed
in no small degree to the establishment of a national institution of
international repute, the Naval Observatory.

For his important additions to the knowledge of the world, and
especially for his ever-zealous war services, the memory and life of
Charles Wilkes will ever abide fresh and honored in the hearts of his
countrymen.




VIII.

JOHN CHARLES FREMONT,

THE PATHFINDER.


The discovery and exploration of the trans-Mississippi region had many
phases, the outcome of different conditions and varying individual
efforts to determine the extent, possibilities, and resources of the
undeveloped half of the American continent. The seamanship of Gray, the
enthusiasm of Lewis, the courage of Clarke, the assiduity of Pike, the
enterprise of Ashley, Wyeth, Sublette, Bonneville, and other trappers
and traders, had done much to make known to the pioneer and settler the
advantages and promise of the great West, and had roughly delineated the
routes of travel best suited for the emigrant in his westward march.

In time many urged that the government of the United States, so long
shamefully negligent of its magnificent acquisitions by purchase,
discovery, and settlement, should enter in and possess its own. This,
however, necessitated, first, a systematic examination of the physical
features of the West to such an extent as to render possible its general
and authoritative description; second, the granting of lands or
homesteads to such of its daring citizens as might be willing to
venture their lives as settlers in these remote regions.

Among public men who urged most strongly such action was one of the most
distinguished of our Western statesmen, Thomas H. Benton, first Senator
from the new and growing State of Missouri. He persistently advocated
the settlement of the lower Columbia by Americans, the enforcement of
the title of the United States to the Pacific Coast region from
California northward to the forty-ninth parallel, and in 1825 he
presented in the Senate a bill authorizing the use of the army and navy
to protect American interests in Oregon.

In season and out of season Benton opposed the joint occupation of
Oregon by England and America, unfailingly supporting every measure
which promised to fill its fertile valleys with American settlers. So
dominant was this idea in Benton's career that artistic skill has
fittingly shaped his statue in St. Louis with its bronze hand pointing
_west_, with his prophetic words carved on the pedestal, "There is the
_east_. There is India."

In his efforts to put his ideas into practical shape, Benton threw the
great weight of his influence as a Senator toward the employment in such
explorations of a member of his family by marriage, John Charles
Fremont, whose ability and inclinations specially suited him for the
scientific examination and exploration of the trans-Mississippi region.

[Illustration: John Charles Fremont.]

Born January 21, 1813, at Savannah, Ga., Fremont entered Charleston
College, where his disregard of discipline prevented his graduating,
although the faculty later honored him with the degrees of Bachelor and
Master of Arts. Well grounded in the classics and familiar with the
ordinary astronomical methods of determining latitude and longitude,
Fremont visited South America on the United States ship Natchez, as a
teacher. Later, appointed a professor of mathematics in the navy, he
declined the position to accept more congenial service as assistant
engineer of the United States Topographic Corps, where he had
experience in preliminary surveys of railroads and also in a military
reconnoissance among the Cherokees in Georgia. Commissioned in the
United States Army, in 1838, as second lieutenant in the Topographic
Corps, his initial service was fortunately as principal assistant to I.
N. Nicolet, in the survey of the country between the Mississippi and the
Missouri. Nicolet, an able and distinguished engineer, was the first
explorer in America who made general use of the barometer for
determining elevations of the great interior country, and his map of
this region was one of the greatest contributions ever made to American
geography.

[Illustration: Jessie Benton Fremont.]

In 1841 Fremont married Jessie Benton, a daughter of Senator Benton,
through whose influence Fremont was assigned to the command of the
expedition ordered to explore the country between the Missouri River and
the Rocky Mountains on the line of the Kansas and Platte Rivers.

In May, 1842, while Fremont was on the frontier making preparations for
the journey, there came, as Mrs. Fremont relates, an order recalling him
to Washington. Mrs. Fremont sent a special messenger to her husband,
advising him to move immediately for good and sufficient reasons, to be
given later. Meanwhile, holding the letter, she wrote the colonel who
had given the order for the recall that she had neither forwarded the
order nor informed Fremont of it, as she knew that obedience thereto
would ruin the expedition. On such a small thread of circumstances hung
the fate of his first separate command, which brought Fremont into such
great prominence in connection with the exploration and development of
the Pacific Coast region.

The journey of Fremont lay up the North Fork of the Platte, through
South Pass, into Wind River Valley, his march being marked by the usual
experiences of hardship and suffering inseparable from the time and
region. The most notable event of the journey was the ascent of the main
and highest peak of the Wind River range, now known as Fremont's Peak.
Their first attempts were unsuccessful, the party suffering from great
cold, excessive fatigue, and mountain fever resulting from the rarity of
the air. Fremont, however, persevered and succeeded. He describes the
final ascent as follows:

"We reached a point where the buttress was overhanging, and there was no
other way of surmounting the difficulty than by passing around one side
of it, which was the face of a vertical precipice of several hundred
feet. Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the blocks I
succeeded in getting over it, and when I reached the top found my
companions in a small valley below. Descending to them, we continued
climbing and in a short time reached the crest. I sprang upon the summit
and another step would have precipitated me into an immense snow-field
five hundred feet below. At the edge of this field was a sheer icy
precipice, and then, with a gradual fall, the field sloped off for about
a mile until it struck the foot of another lower ridge. I stood on a
narrow crest about three feet in width. As soon as I had gratified the
first feelings of curiosity I descended, and each man ascended in turn,
for I would only allow one at a time to mount the unstable and
precarious slab, which it seemed a breath would hurl into the abyss
below. We mounted the barometer in the snow at the summit, and fixing a
ramrod in the crevice, unfurled the national flag to wave in the breeze
where never flag waved before." The elevation of this summit, as
determined by Fremont, was 13,570 feet.

His success on this expedition caused his most favorable reception by
the War Department on his return to the States.

[Illustration: Ascending Fremont's Peak.]

Fremont's second expedition contemplated the connection of his first
explorations with those made by Captain Wilkes on the Pacific Coast, so
as to give a connected survey across the interior of North America. The
party, which left Kansas City May 29, 1843, consisted of forty men,
equipped with twelve carts for transportation and a light wagon for
scientific instruments. The route followed was up the valley of the
Kansas River, thence by the South Fork of the Platte to the vicinity of
the present city of Denver. After considerable hesitation a northerly
route was taken, skirting the westerly limits of the great Laramie
plain, which brought Fremont to the emigrant trail in the vicinity of
the South Pass. The volume of travel toward the Pacific Coast even at
that early date may be estimated from his description of the Oregon
trail as "a broad smooth highway where the numerous heavy wagons of the
emigrants have entirely beaten and crushed the mountain sage."

Crossing Green River and following up Ham's Fork, Fremont reached the
valley of Bear River, the principal tributary of Great Salt Lake, which
was filled with emigrants travelling to the lower Columbia River.
Fremont expressed his surprise at the confidence and daring of the
emigrants as he met in one place "a family of two men and women and
several children travelling alone through such a country so remote from
civilization." Turning south from this point and quitting the travelled
road Fremont visited the Great Salt Lake, of which he says: "Hitherto
this lake had been seen only by trappers, who were wandering through the
country in search of new beaver streams, caring very little for
geography; its lands had never been visited, and none were to be found
who had entirely made the circuit of its shores, and no instrumental
observations or geographical survey of any description had ever been
made anywhere in the neighboring region. It was generally supposed that
the lake had no visible outlet, but among the trappers, including those
in my own camp, were many who believed that somewhere on its surface was
a terrible whirlpool, through which its waters found their way to the
ocean by some subterranean communication."

The lake was eventually reached from the lower part of Bear River in an
india-rubber canoe, by means of which Fremont also landed on a
mountainous island near the centre of the lake, where from an elevation
of eight hundred feet he was able to determine with considerable
accuracy the contours and extent of this remarkable body of water.
Instead of a tangled wilderness of shrubbery teeming with an abundance
of game, as the party expected, the island proved to be broken, rocky
land, some twelve miles in circumference, on which there was neither
water nor trees; a few saline shrubs and other hardy plants formed the
only vegetation. The lake is described as being enclosed in a basin of
rocky mountains, which sometimes leave grassy fields and extensive
bottoms between them and the shore, while in other places they come
directly down to the water in bold and precipitous bluffs. He speaks of
the water of the lake being at a low stage and the probabilities that
the marshes and low ground are overflowed in the season of high water.
Fremont says that "we felt pleasure in knowing that we were the first
who in the traditional annals of the country had visited the island and
broke with joyful sounds the long solitude." But in view of the
dissipation of his dream of fertility he named it Disappointment Island.

Turning northward Fremont reached, on September 18, 1843, Fort Hall,
Idaho, then a post under British control, whose original importance as
an Indian trading-post had been greatly enhanced by its location on the
emigrant route to Oregon, at a distance of over one thousand three
hundred miles from the then frontier settlement of Westport, Mo.
Following closely the emigrant trail Fremont, on October 8th, passed
Fort Boise, then occupied by the Hudson Bay Company, and on the 25th of
the month arrived at another trading establishment of this company, at
the junction of the Walla Walla and Columbia Rivers. This was considered
by emigrants as the practical termination of their overland journey
since navigation down the river was rapid and convenient.

Fremont found many American emigrants at Fort Vancouver on his visit to
that post and also learned that others already occupied the adjacent
lowlands of the Willamette Valley. Moreover, these pioneers were not
confining their efforts to Oregon, for while small parties were pushing
southward through that valley to settlements in Northern California,
still others, making detours near Fort Hall, reached, by a more direct
route through passes in the Sierra Nevada, the banks of the Sacramento.

On November 10, 1843, Fremont left Vancouver to return to the United
States, having in view an entirely new route whereby he might be able to
complete the exploration of the great interior basin between the Rocky
Mountains and the Sierra Nevada. His party then consisted of
twenty-five. Leaving the Columbia at a point above The Dalles, Fremont
followed Des Chutes River to its source, and passing over to Lake
Klamath, contemplated a journey to and a winter camp on either Mary's
Lake or the mythical Buenaventura River. His trail brought him to Lake
Klamath, and later to Goose Lake, the source of the Sacramento. Winter
had now commenced; the weather in the mountains proved to be extremely
cold, snow-storms became frequent, and his search for Mary's Lake and
Buenaventura River proved fruitless and dangerous.

These mythical water-courses, which had been eliminated from the domain
of geography by Bonneville's map of 1837, proved indeed to be veritable
waters of the desert, mere mirages that nearly led Fremont to an
untimely fate. Fremont's frequent allusions in his field journal to
these imaginary streams show his then belief in their existence, which
appears extraordinary in view of existing publications. In Bonneville's
maps are charted with general accuracy the great interior basins of the
Great Salt, Mud, and Sevier Lakes, the Humboldt and Sevier Rivers. The
general extent and direction of the Willamette, Sacramento, and San
Joaquin Rivers are indicated, and the non-existence of the Buenaventura
and other hypothetical streams was conclusively determined. The
existence of these maps was generally known, and their absence from
Fremont's topographic outfit is remarkable; a most unfortunate omission,
as Benton in his "Thirty Years' View" describes Fremont's charts and
geographic information as "disastrously erroneous."

Struggling along in the snow through a forest of unknown extent, Fremont
halted, on December 16th, on the verge of a rocky precipice, from which
the party looked down more than one thousand feet upon a broad lake, the
most westerly waters of the great interior basin, which, from its
pleasing contrast to the wintry weather of the Sierra Nevada, they
called Summer Lake. Attempting to travel in an easterly direction
Fremont found himself beaten back by an impassable country, there being
rocky, sterile mountains on either side which obliged him to keep to the
south through a wild, barren, and uninhabited region. Fremont,
describing the country, says: "On both sides the mountains showed often
stupendous and curious-looking rocks, which at several places so
narrowed the valley that scarcely a pass was left for the camp. It was a
singular place to travel through--shut up in the earth, a sort of chasm,
the little strip of grass under our feet, the rough walls of bare rock
on either hand, and the narrow strip of sky above."

The year 1844 opened with the party in a forlorn and dispirited
condition, as they were practically lost in the tangle of the valleys
and mountains. The grass had become so scanty and unwholesome that the
overtaxed animals fell ill; some died and others were stolen by Indians,
so that the party lost fifteen head of stock by the time they reached
Pyramid Lake, where they camped from the 10th to the 16th of January.
Here they found grass abundant, fire-wood plentiful, and from an Indian
village they obtained salmon trout, a feast to the famished men. The
Indians indicated the general direction of the route out of the desolate
country, but no one would consent to accompany the party as guide. The
region traversed continued so rough and lamed the animals so badly that
on the 18th Fremont determined to abandon the easterly course, thinking
it advisable to cross the Sierra Nevada to the valley of the Sacramento
by the first practicable pass. Now and then a few Indians were met, and
finally a guide was obtained, who led them to the southward, over a low
range of mountains through a snow-covered pass into what proved to be
Carson Valley. The snow deepened and the country became so broken as to
make progress difficult, long, tedious detours necessary, and soon
travel was only possible along high and exposed ridges, which were
comparatively snow free. Finally it became necessary to abandon their
mountain howitzer at an impracticable canyon that led into a valley which
Fremont at first erroneously supposed to be to the westward of the
Sierra Nevada. Continuing on without a guide they met other Indians, who
stated it was impossible to cross the mountains on account of the deep
snow, but after much persuasion, and by means of large presents, an
Indian guide was finally induced to undertake the journey. Fremont,
fully conscious of the desperate conditions, which entailed the possible
death of all, endeavored to encourage his men by reminding them of the
contrast between the fast falling snow of the surrounding Sierra Nevada
and the flower-clad meadows in the adjacent valley of the Sacramento,
and informed them that his astronomical observations showed that they
were only sixty miles distant from Sutter's great establishment.

Their provisions were now practically exhausted; neither tallow, grease,
nor salt remained, and even their hunting dogs were killed for food.
Making the best of the situation their clothing and outfit were put in
the best of order, and on February 2d, crossing the frozen river on the
ice, the party commenced the ascent of the mountain, the men, Fremont
relates, being unusually silent over the hazardous and doubtful
enterprise. Ten men, mounted on the strongest horses, broke the road,
each man in succession opening the path, either on foot or on horseback,
until he and his horse became exhausted, when he dropped to the rear.
The very deep snow made it impossible to follow the main valley, and
they necessarily worked along steep and difficult mountain-sides. On the
third day the snow had become so deep that their best horses gave out
entirely, refusing to make further effort; the day ended with the party
at a stand-still and the camp equipage strewed along the route. Too
exhausted to make huts, they camped that night without shelter and
suffered bitterly from the unusual cold, as the temperature fell to
twenty-two degrees below freezing. Two Indians who had joined the party
expatiated on the impossibility of crossing at this point, and the
guide, influenced by them, deserted the party the next morning.

[Illustration: Kit Carson.]

Having obtained snow-shoes from the Indians, on February 6th, Fremont,
accompanied by Carson and Fitzpatrick, made a reconnoissance and reached
a high peak, from which Carson saw a little mountain to the westward
which he recognized as one seen by him fifteen years before, so that
confidence was somewhat restored. On examining the general depth of the
snow it was found to be five feet, but in places it proved to be twenty.
As this snow was plainly impracticable for the pack-train, sledges were
made for transporting the baggage, which was dragged forward by the men
with the expectation that the horses without load could break a path for
themselves. Unfortunately the weather turned bitterly cold, and the
temperature falling thirty-five degrees below the freezing-point, a
number of the men were frost-bitten.

Fremont, and indeed the whole party, now realized that the crossing of
the mountains into the valley of the Sacramento was a struggle for life,
but this in no wise disorganized the party. This desperate march lasted
during the whole of February. Finally Fremont with the advance party
reached Sutter's ranch on March 6th in a state of complete exhaustion;
help was immediately sent to the main party, which arrived a few days
later. Fremont's route across the mountains was practically through the
pass now crossed by the Central Pacific Railway, the descent into the
Sacramento being through the valley of the American River. In crossing
the Sierras not less than thirty-four out of the sixty-seven horses died
of exhaustion or were killed for food, the meat of these animals being
the only resource against starvation.

One of the party, De Rossier, became insane on March 1st, and Fremont
says: "Hunger and fatigue joined to weakness of body and fear of
perishing in the mountains had crazed him. The times were severe when
stout men lost their minds from extremity of suffering, when horses
died, when mules and horses ready to die of starvation were killed for
food, yet there was no murmuring or hesitation."

Sutter's Fort, on the Sacramento, was then the most important American
establishment in California; the fort itself was an adobe structure
defended by twelve pieces of artillery. Sutter had a large force in his
employ engaged in farming his extensive wheat-fields, in milling
operations, in blacksmith- and other work-shops.

One might have thought that Fremont would have delayed long in the
delightful climate and conditions that obtained at Sutter's, but such
was not the nature of the man. The entire party were reunited at
Sutter's Fort on March 8th, and under Fremont's well-directed efforts,
in the short space of fourteen days the starving band was reorganized,
remounted, and equipped fully for instant march. The return journey was
to be through the pass at the head of the San Joaquin River, discovered
by Walker, whose name was affixed to it by Fremont. Crossing the Sierra
Nevada the party struck the Spanish trail, which was then followed by
all wagon-trains or mounted parties travelling to and fro between Los
Angeles and Santa Fe. The region over which they passed was desolate in
the extreme, the road rough and rocky, grass scanty and poor, while
water was found only in holes and at long distances, In pointing to it,
Fremont's Spanish guide well states: "There are the great plains; there
is found neither water nor grass--nothing; every animal which goes upon
them dies."

The party had to undergo not only terrible discomforts arising from the
physical conditions of the country, but was also harassed by hostile
Indians, who stole some of their stock. The expedition fortunately
escaped with the loss of only one man, although parties in advance and
in their rear were plundered and slaughtered. Speaking of their
travelling alone in twenty-seven days a distance of five hundred and
fifty miles through this inhospitable region, Fremont comments, that
although their lonely journey gave them the advantage of more grass, yet
they "had the disadvantage of finding also the marauding savages who had
gathered down upon the trail, waiting the approach of their prey. This
greatly increased our labors, besides costing us the life of an
excellent man. We had to move all day in a state of watch and prepare
for combat, scouts and flankers out, a front and rear division of our
men, and baggage animals in the centre. At night camp duty was severe;
those who had toiled all day had to guard by turns the camp and horses
all night. Frequently one-third of the whole party were on guard at
once, and nothing but this vigilance saved us from attack. We were
constantly dogged by bands and even whole tribes of the marauders."

Reaching, in Southern Utah, the head-waters of the Virgin River, where
Santa Fe trains usually halt to recruit the strength of their animals in
its grassy meadows, Fremont was joined by the famous trapper, Joseph
Walker, who consented to serve as guide in the departure to the
northeastward, as they now quitted the Spanish trail. Fremont then
skirted the eastern edge of the great interior basin and visiting Sevier
and Utah Lakes, thus completed practically the circuit of the basin. He
then turned eastward through the valleys of the Du Chesne and Green
Rivers, tributaries to the Colorado, and pushing through the very heart
of the Rocky Mountains, by the way of the pass near Leadville, at an
elevation of eleven thousand two hundred feet, he reached the Arkansas
Valley June 29, 1844.

His journey eastward across the great Kansas plains was of an easy
character, and the 31st of July, 1844, saw his expedition safe at
Independence, Mo. He had been absent fourteen months, during which time
he had travelled some six thousand five hundred miles, the greater part
of his journey being through the most barren and inhospitable regions of
North America.

[Illustration: Lake Klamath.]

The character and extent of Fremont's astronomical and other physical
observations on this long, arduous, and dangerous journey constituted
the great value of his exploring work. In few instances did it fall to
Fremont's lot to first explore any section of the country, but it was
his good fortune, as it was his intent, to first contribute systematic,
extended, and reliable data as to climate, elevation, physical
conditions, and geographical positions. The hypsometrical work begun by
Fremont culminated, indeed, in the unparalleled collation of elevations
by Gannett; his climatic observations have been perfected by the Signal
Corps; his astronomical and geological data have been overwhelmed by the
magnificent collections and field work of the United States Coast and
Geodetic and Geological Surveys; but it is to be noted that Fremont's
observations, which he gave in detail, were so honest and good that they
have withstood successfully the test of hostile examination. Fremont's
scientific spirit was strikingly exemplified in this terrible
mid-winter journey through the mountains of Nevada, when observations
for time, latitude, elevation, or temperature were daily and regularly
made despite snow, extreme cold, and physical weakness from
semi-starvation.

On the recommendation of General Winfield Scott, in a special report,
the unprecedented honor of double brevets--of first lieutenant and
captain--was conferred on Fremont for gallant and highly meritorious
services in connection with these two expeditions.

Fremont's third expedition consisted of sixty men. They left Bent's
Fort, on the Arkansas, August 16, 1845. Its object, as far as
exploration was concerned, included a survey of the head-waters of the
Arkansas, Rio Grande, and Rio Colorado, the basin of the Great Salt Lake
and the practicable passes of the Cascade and southern Sierra Nevada.

It was during this journey that Fremont quite fully surveyed the
southern shores of Salt Lake. The water was then at an unusually
low--possibly at its lowest known--level, and having been informed by
the Indians that it was fordable to Antelope Island, Fremont with Kit
Carson rode to the island, the water nowhere reaching above the
saddle-girths of their horses.

Dividing his party Fremont crossed the Utah desert between the
thirty-eighth and thirty-ninth parallels, while his subordinate, Walker,
explored the valley and sink of the Humboldt. Rendezvousing at Lake
Walker and again separating, Fremont reached Sutter's Fort through the
American River route, while Walker and the main party crossed the
Sierras into the extreme southern part of the San Joaquin Valley,
opposite Tulare Lake. Of the survey and explorations made by the
expedition it may be briefly said that they added very greatly to a
knowledge of Upper California, and resulted in the publication in 1848
of the most accurate map of that region extant.

There was, however, another and more important phase to the third
expedition than that of mere exploration. Fremont before leaving
Washington was informed that war with Mexico was possible, and received
general unwritten instructions looking to such a contingency. The
forecast of trouble proved correct, and the preliminary and extensive
disturbances in California interfered most materially with the progress
of his surveys. Fremont's explorations westward of the Arkansas River
had been through and over Mexican territory. In order to place himself
in proper position as a non-invader he proceeded to Monterey, Cal., at
the earliest practicable moment and applied to the commanding general,
Don Jose Castro, for permission to extend, in the interests of science
and commerce, the geographical survey of the nearest route between the
United States and the Pacific Ocean. The request was granted promptly
and courteously. Scarcely had Fremont commenced his survey in Northern
California than he was peremptorily ordered by General Castro, who later
appears to have been acting under orders from the Mexican Government,
to quit the department; the message being coupled with an intimation
that non-compliance would result in expulsion by an armed force. The
message was delivered in such manner and language as incensed Fremont
and caused him to peremptorily refuse. Withdrawing a short distance he
erected a stockade and awaited expulsion by arms. The Mexican force made
several forward movements, but carefully avoided an attack. Fremont
finally judged it advisable to quit Mexican territory, as his remaining
might be detrimental to the United States. He consequently withdrew
slowly toward Oregon, surveying and exploring as he moved northward.

On May 7, 1845, Fremont was overtaken in the valley of the upper
Sacramento by Lieutenant Archibald H. Gillespie, of the marine corps,
who brought from Washington important despatches which were destined to
settle the fate of California as a Mexican state. Fremont was informed
through Gillespie that war with Mexico had been declared, that the
government counted upon him to ascertain and conciliate the disposition
of the people of California toward the United States, and especially to
conserve American interests by ascertaining and counteracting any scheme
looking to the cession of California to Great Britain. Fremont was then
surrounded by hostile Klamaths, who killed several of his party and with
whom he had several engagements, which resulted in the destruction of
the principal village, fishing appliances, etc., of the offending tribe.

Fremont, turning promptly southward, his heart set on the important
mission intrusted to him, saved from ravage the American settlements in
the valley of the Sacramento, which were in imminent danger of
destruction between the proclamation of the Mexican authorities ordering
confiscation and expulsion and the threatening attitude of the Indian
allies, incited by unscrupulous officials to activity. Aided by
volunteers from the American settlers Fremont freed California
permanently from Mexican domination, his actions receiving mention and
approval from the President in his Annual Message to Congress, in
December, 1846.

Commodore Stockton, United States Navy, charged with the control of
affairs on the Pacific Coast, appointed Fremont Governor and military
commander of California. When controversies arose between Commodore
Stockton, of the navy, and General Kearney, of the army, each having
authority from Washington to conquer California and organize its
government, Fremont adhered to Stockton, his first commander. In
consequence serious complications arose, which finally resulted in the
trial of Fremont, and, although the findings of the court were partly
disapproved and the sentence remitted, he resigned from the army.

His courage, persistency, and success in these expeditions gained for
Fremont world-wide reputation. At home he was named The Pathfinder;
abroad he received the Founders' Medal from the Royal Geographical
Society of England and many other well-deserved marks of appreciation
from geographers.

Devoted to California and to its exploration Fremont immediately fitted
out, at his own expense, another expedition, the fourth. In October,
1848, with thirty-three men and a large train he crossed the Rocky
Mountains, undeterred by his fearful experiences in 1844, and again
attempted the passage of the snow-covered Sierras in mid-winter. The
snow was deep, the guide inefficient, and the winter unusually cold.
One-third of his men and all his animals perished after suffering cold,
hunger, and fatigue of the most appalling character, and the remnant of
the expedition returned to Santa Fe. Unappalled by this overwhelming
disaster Fremont reorganized at Santa Fe a new party, and after a long,
perilous journey reached Sacramento in the spring of 1849.

Fremont's experiences during his surveys of the great valleys of the San
Joaquin and Sacramento caused him to fall under the fascinating spell
which California exercises over the greater number of its Eastern
settlers. The vast domain of its virgin forests, the luxuriance of its
vegetation, the extent and fertility of its valley lands, and its
incomparable climate were speedily recognized by Fremont as so many
physical conditions calculated to insure unparalleled prosperity when
once it should be occupied by Americans. He saw this vast region
practically a waste; its magnificent harbors unvexed, unbroken by the
keels of commerce; its unrivalled valleys awaiting the hand of
intelligent labor to transform them from mere pastures for scattered
herds of cattle into fruitful granaries, orchards, and vineyards capable
of feeding a continent. Imbued with these ideas he cast in his lot with
California, and was a potent power in making it a free State, and was
honored by election as its first Senator, unfortunately, however,
drawing the short term in the United States Senate.

Failing, through the defeat of his party, of re-election, Fremont
visited Europe for a brief and well-earned rest, which was broken by the
authorization of Congress for a survey of a trans-continental railway,
which awoke his dormant exploring spirit. Returning promptly to the
United States he organized an expedition under private auspices, which
started westward in September, 1853. He travelled by the central route
through the mountains of Colorado, passing over the Sierra Blanca,
through the Sandy Hill Pass and the valley of the Grand River. Turning
southward into Utah and crossing the Sawatch Mountains, Fremont's march
brought him to the Sierra Nevada near the end of winter, and their
passage was attempted near the thirty-seventh parallel. Thereof he
writes: "I was prepared to find the Sierra here broad, rugged, and
blocked with snow, and was not disappointed in my expectations." The
snow being impassable and food failing he made a detour of some seventy
miles to the southward and reached the Kern River Valley through Walker
Pass. The march entailed endless suffering and extreme privations on the
party, which was pushed to the direst extremities to preserve life. They
were often without food of any kind for an entire day and for many weeks
had only the flesh of their emaciated and exhausted horses. The
disastrous outcome of this expedition impaired Fremont's reputation, it
appearing, then as now, surprising that, aware by bitter experience of
the impracticability of such a journey, he should have so timed his
march as to be again overwhelmed by the dreadful winter snow of the
Nevada range.

This sketch has in view the treatment neither of Fremont's career as a
soldier nor as a politician, which phases of his life, viewed by
ordinary circumstances, may be considered as unsuccessful. It need not
be here dwelt on that his name became a watchword of the ever-growing
spirit of human freedom, and that as the standard-bearer of an idea he
astonished the country and the world by obtaining the suffrages of
nearly one and a half millions of his countrymen for the highest office
in the gift of the people. His unwavering, if impractical, devotion to
freedom was forcibly illustrated by his emancipation proclamation in
Missouri, which he declined to recall, even at the request of the
President who revoked it.

It is undoubted that Fremont's non-success in business and political
ventures has tended to diminish his reputation as an explorer, a
reputation which, it is safe to say, must continue to grow steadily in
the future with the development of the great trans-Rocky Mountain region
to which he gave the enthusiasm of his youth, the maturity of his
manhood, and for which he sacrificed his profession and his private
fortune. While Fremont loved all the great West, it was to California
especially that he gave the best he had of mind, heart, and body, never
sparing himself in any effort for the upbuilding of her future. So it is
that in the scene of his activities on the shores of the golden Pacific,
rather than on the coast of the Atlantic, should be more appreciated the
labors and ever grow brighter and brighter the name of John C. Fremont,
the Pathfinder.




IX.

ELISHA KENT KANE,

ARCTIC EXPLORER.


Among the picturesque and striking figures of Arctic explorers none
abides more firmly in the minds of Americans than that of Elisha Kent
Kane, whose career and fame largely relate to the fate of the lost
explorer, Sir John Franklin.

Kane was born in Philadelphia, February 3, 1820. In 1842 he graduated in
medicine at the University of Pennsylvania, and the following year,
while waiting for a vacancy in the medical corps of the navy, for which
he had passed an examination, sailed on the frigate Brandywine, as
physician to the embassy, to China, under Caleb Cushing, Minister
Plenipotentiary. Later, commissioned as an officer of the medical corps
of the United States Navy, he served on the west coast of Africa, in
Brazil, in the Mediterranean, and on special duty with the army in
Mexico. This brief statement of his duties conveys, however, no idea of
the intense energy and restless activity of Kane in his eager efforts to
acquire personal knowledge of the very ends of the earth.

Indeed, considering Kane's very short life (he died at thirty-seven),
there is no man of modern times to whom the words of Tennyson, in his
strong poem of Ulysses, more fittingly apply:

  "I cannot rest from travel, ...
   For always roaming with a hungry heart
   Much have I seen and known: cities of men
   And manners, climates, councils, governments,
   Myself not least but honored of them all."

Suffice it here to say that before Kane was thirty he had visited in
America the greater part of the eastern half of the United States, the
city of Mexico, Cuba, and Brazil from Rio de Janeiro to the eastern
Andes; in Africa, along the Gold and Slave Coasts, to Dahomey, Cape
Colony, and up the Nile to the Second Cataract; in Europe, the eastern,
southern, and central countries; in Asia, the coast of China, Ceylon,
India from Bombay to the Himalayas, Persia, and Syria. Elsewhere he had
travelled in the islands of Cape Verde, Singapore, Java, Sumatra, and
Luzon of the Philippines. This incessant travel is the more remarkable
as he was always sea-sick, was a man of delicate physique, and nowhere
passed six months without being prostrated by severe illness. As to
personal experiences, he had been wounded in Egypt by a Bedouin who
strove to rob him, narrowly escaped death in saving captured Mexican
officers from slaughter at the hands of renegade irregulars, and barely
survived his unique experiences in the crater of a volcano.

[Illustration: Elisha Kent Kane.]

His descent into the volcano of Tael, in the Philippines, illustrates
Kane's utter disregard of dangers whenever he desired to investigate any
phenomena. As related by Dr. Elder, Kane not only was lowered two
hundred feet below the point usually visited, but descended to the very
surface of the burning lake and dipped his specimen bottles into the
steaming sulphur water. This feat nearly cost him his life, for although
he was able to crawl to and fasten the bamboo ropes around his body,
yet his boots were charred in pieces on his feet, sulphurous
air-currents stifled him into insensibility, and he would have perished
had it not been for the strenuous exertions of Baron Loe, his companion.

The turning-point in Kane's life came in 1850, when, induced by the
persistent petition of Lady Franklin, President Taylor recommended to
Congress an appropriation for an expedition in search of Sir John
Franklin and his missing ships. Kane immediately volunteered for Arctic
service, pressing and urging his application by every means at his
command. Congress acted tardily, so that the whole expedition was fitted
out in eighteen days, and Kane at the last moment, when his hopes had
failed, received orders as surgeon of the Advance, the flagship, which
he joined May 20, 1850.

The expedition owed its existence to the enterprise and generosity of
Henry Grinnell, whose philanthropic mind planned, practical energy
equipped, and munificence endowed it. Without Grinnell's action Congress
would have failed to fit out the expedition, and the grateful chapter of
American co-operation with England in its Franklin search would have
been unwritten. Such practical displays of sympathy in matters of
general and national interest, now considered the most hopeful signs of
international fellowship, may be said to have been inaugurated by the
despatch of the first Grinnell expedition on its errand of humanity.

Under a joint resolution of Congress, passed May 2, 1850, the President
was authorized "to accept and attach to the navy two vessels offered by
Henry Grinnell, Esq., to be sent to the Arctic seas in search of Sir
John Franklin and his companions." These vessels--two very small brigs,
the flagship Advance and the Rescue--were placed under command of
Lieutenant Edwin J. DeHaven, an officer of Antarctic service under
Wilkes. The vessels had detachable rudders, modern fittings, were
admirably strengthened and fully equipped; in short, they were
thoroughly adapted to the difficult navigation in prospect. Where
Grinnell's forethought and liberality ended there was, says Kane,
another tale: the strictly naval equipment could not be praised, and the
"crews consisted of man-of-war's-men of various climes and habitudes,
with constitutions most of them impaired by disease or temporarily
broken by the excesses of shore life;" but he commends them as ever
brave, willing, and reliable.

The squadron touched at various Greenland ports and then entered the
dreaded ice-pack of Melville Bay, in which the sailing vessels made slow
progress; but in their besetment of three weeks the only dangerous
experience was a "nip," which nearly destroyed the Advance. The movement
of the ice-floes is thus graphically told by Kane: "The momentum of the
assailing floe was so irresistible that as it impinged against the solid
margin of the land ice there was no recoil, no interruption to its
progress. The elastic material corrugated before the enormous pressure,
then cracked, then crumbled, and at last rose, the lesser over the
greater, sliding up in great inclined planes, and these again, breaking
by their weight and their continued impulse, toppled over in long lines
of fragmentary ice."

DeHaven entered Lancaster Sound, near the end of August, in company with
half a dozen English ships bound on the same humane errand, and on the
24th Master Griffin, of the Rescue, participated in the search with
Captain Ommaney, which resulted in the discovery, on Beechy Island, of
vestiges of an encampment. Two days later DeHaven and Kane shared in the
joint search, wherein Captain Penny discovered the graves of three of
Franklin's crew. These discoveries proved that Franklin's expedition had
wintered there during 1845-46, and later innumerable traces of their
stay were noted, indicating the good condition and activity of the
expedition. On September 10th DeHaven's squadron was off Griffith Island
in company with eight English search ships. Consulting with Griffin,
DeHaven concluded that they had not attained such a position as promised
advantageous operations in the season of 1851, and so decided to
extricate the vessels from the ice and return home.

[Illustration: The Arctic Highway.]

Strong gales and an unusually early advance of winter prevented such
action and resulted in the ships being frozen up in the pack, where they
drifted helplessly to and fro, a condition they were destined to undergo
for many months. Beset in the middle of Wellington Channel, the American
squadron, with varying movements to and fro, first drifted under the
influence of southerly gales to the north-northwest, attaining latitude
75 deg. 25' N., longitude 93 deg. 31' W. In this northerly drift the expedition
discovered Murdaugh Island and quite extensive masses of land to the
northwest of North Devon, to which the name of Grinnell was given. This
land was further extended the following year by the discoveries of
Captain Penny, and most unwarrantable efforts were made by ungenerous
and unappreciating officials in England to take from the American
squadron its ewe lamb of 1850, an attempt that, properly refuted, failed
of its purpose.

October 2, 1860, the direction of the drift changed to the south and
later to the east. Their involuntary course lay through Wellington
Channel, Barrow Strait, and Lancaster Sound into Baffin Bay, where
release came, near Cape Walsingham, June 5, 1851. The drift covered ten
hundred and fifty miles and lasted eight and a half months. The sun was
absent twelve weeks. It is impossible to adequately describe the
physical and mental sufferings of the party during this protracted ice
imprisonment. It was a constant succession of harassing conditions,
each, if possible, seeming worse than the former. Now the ships were so
firmly imbedded in the cemented ice-pack that extrication appeared
impossible; again the complete disruption of the pack threatened, or the
instant destruction of their vessels impended, with prospects of a
winter on the naked floe under such conditions of darkness, sickness,
lack of shelter, and suitable nutrition as would render a lingering
death unavoidable. No single week passed with a feeling of security; for
days at a time there was no hour free from terrible suspense as to what
fate might immediately befall, and four times in one day the entire
party prepared to abandon ship at order. The cold became extreme, the
mean of one week in March being thirty-one degrees below zero; seal and
other fresh meat could be got only in small quantities, and scurvy, the
bane of Arctic explorers, affected all save six of the crew, DeHaven
being put off duty by this disease. In all these terrible experiences,
which were borne with a fortitude, courage, and patience most
creditable, Kane was first and foremost in sustaining the heroic efforts
of Griffin, master of the Rescue, on whom the executive duties devolved
during DeHaven's illness. It may be said that not only Kane's medical
skill, but also his cheeriness, activity, and ingenious devices
contributed largely to conserve the health, spirits, and morale of the
crew in these dark hours when despair seemed justified.

Released from the pack, DeHaven patched up his injured ships and
attempted to return and prosecute further the Franklin search; but,
stopped in his return journey by ice in the upper part of Melville Bay,
he judiciously decided to return to the United States, which was safely
reached September 30, 1851.

The following extracts from Kane's very vivid account of the expedition
illustrate some of the most striking phases of their experiences as
recorded in his journal.

Of the conditions and experience of the Advance in the moving ice-pack
he says:

"We were yet to be familiarized with the strife of the ice-tables, now
broken into tumbling masses and piling themselves in angry confusion
against our sides; now fixed in chaotic disarray by the fields of new
ice that imbedded them in a single night; again, perhaps, opening in
treacherous pools, only to close around us with a force that threatened
to grind our brig to powder."

"A level snow-covered surface was rising up in inclined planes or rudely
undulating curves. These, breaking at their summits, fell off on each
side in masses of twenty tons' weight. Tables of six feet in thickness
by twenty of perpendicular height, and some of them fifteen yards in
length, surging up into the misty air, heaving, rolling, tottering, and
falling with a majestic deliberation worthy of the forces that impelled
them."

The following descriptions indicate the narrow escapes of the ships from
destruction during disruptions of the ice-pack:

"The separated sides would come together with an explosion like a
mortar, craunching the newly formed field and driving it headlong in
fragments for fifty feet upon the floe till it piled up against our
bulwarks. Everything betokened a crisis. Sledges, boats, packages of all
sorts were disposed in order; contingencies were met as they approached
by new delegations of duty; every man was at work, officers and seamen
alike. The Rescue, crippled and thrown away from us to the further side
of a chasm, was deserted, and her company consolidated with ours. Our
own brig groaned and quivered under the pressure against her sides."

"The ice came in with the momentum before mentioned as irresistible,
progressive, and grand. All expected to betake ourselves sledgeless to
the ice, for the open space around the vessel barely admits of a
foot-board. The timbers and even cross-beams protected by shores
vibrated so as to communicate to you the peculiar tremor of a
cotton-factory. Presently the stern of the brig, by a succession of
jerking leaps, began to rise, while her bows dipped toward the last
night's ice ahead. Everybody looked to see her fall upon her beam-ends
and rushed out upon the ice."

"On the 13th the hummock ridge astern advanced with a steady march upon
the vessel. Twice it rested and advanced again--a dense wall of ice,
thirty feet broad at the base and twelve feet high, tumbling huge
fragments from its crest, yet increasing in mass at every new effort. We
had ceased to hope, when a merciful interposition arrested it, so close
against our counter that there was scarcely room for a man to pass
between. Half a minute of progress more and it would have buried us all.
As we drifted along five months afterward this stupendous memento of
controlling power was still hanging over our stern."

The discomfort of the prescribed out-of-door exercise in extreme cold
appears from the following:

[Illustration: A Sleeping-bag for Three Men.]

"Close the lips for the first minute or two and admit the air
suspiciously through nostril and mustache. Presently you breathe in a
dry, pungent but gracious and agreeable atmosphere. The beard, eyebrows,
eyelashes, and the downy pubescence of the ears acquire a delicate white
and perfectly enveloped cover of venerable hoar-frost. The mustache and
under lip form pendulous beads of dangling ice. Put out your tongue and
it instantly freezes to this icy crusting, and a rapid effort and some
hand aid will be required to liberate it. The less you talk the better.
Your chin has a trick of freezing to your upper jaw by the luting aid of
your beard; even my eyes have often been so glued as to show that even a
wink may be unsafe."

The unfortunate physical condition of the party made Kane's duties most
onerous and wearing. In mid-winter he says:

"Scurvy advanced steadily. This fearful disease, so often warded off
when in a direct attack, now exhibited itself in a cachexy, a depraved
condition of system sad to encounter. Pains diffuse and non-locatable
were combined with an apathy and lassitude which resisted all attempts
at healthy excitement. These, of course, were not confined to the crew
alone: out of twenty-four men but five were without ulcerated gums and
blotched limbs. All the officers were assailed."

The expedition safe in port, the recollection of the horrors and
privations of his mid-winter drift through the polar pack did not deter
Kane from again braving the danger of Arctic exploration, and he was
soon busily engaged in stimulating public opinion to the support of
another expedition. To this end he especially addressed the American
Geographic Society, of which Henry Grinnell was president, presenting a
well-intended but fallacious and illogical plan for continuing the
search for Franklin.

Kane was personally aware, from the experiences of his previous voyage
with DeHaven, that Franklin had wintered at Beechy Island, in 74 deg. 43'
N., 91 deg. 33' W., and that his positive orders from the admiralty required
him to push southward from the vicinity of Cape Walker to Behring
Strait. A search for him by the way of Smith Sound, four degrees of
latitude to the _northward_ and seventeen degrees of longitude to the
_eastward_ of his last known position, rested on the violent assumption
that Franklin had not only directly disobeyed his positive orders to go
_west_ and _southwest_, but had done so after one-third of the distance
from Greenland to Behring Strait had been accomplished.

Again there had lately been made public in England the last direct
report from the Franklin expedition--a letter from Captain
Fitzjames--who relates that Franklin showed him part of his
instructions, expressed his disbelief in an open sea to the north, and
gave "a pleasant account of his expectations of being able to get
through the ice on the coast of America." Dr. Rae had also reported
finding drift material on the north coast of America, which, having the
broad arrow and red thread of the government, could come from the
quarter where Franklin's orders sent him, thus confirming the belief
that he had gone southwest from Cape Walker. Moreover, the squadrons of
Belcher and Collinson were actively engaged in the search northward of
America.

It was finally decided that a second expedition should be sent, the
United States co-operating, as before, with private enterprise; and to
the command of this expedition Kane was assigned, by orders from the
Secretary of the Navy, in November, 1852. The expedition was fitted out
through the liberality of two Americans, Henry Grinnell, who again
placed the brig Advance at the disposal of the government, and George
Peabody, the American philanthropist, who contributed $10,000, a sum
that practically covered all other expenses of the voyage.

Kane's faith in the existence of an open polar sea and his intention of
reaching it were clearly asserted. Combined with the proposed search for
Franklin was a declared purpose to extend northward the discoveries of
Inglefield, in 1851, on the west coast of Greenland, where, as Kane
says, he contemplated reaching "its most northern attainable point, and
thence pressing on toward the Pole as far as boats or sledges could
carry us, examine the coast lines for vestiges of the lost party."

The expedition sailed from New York May 30, 1853, consisting of eighteen
men, all volunteers, although ten belonged to the United States Navy.
Except as regards scientific instruments, the equipment of the
expedition was in most respects inadequate and unsuitable for Arctic
service, the bulk of the provisions, for instance, being hard bread,
salt beef, and pork, with no canned meats or vegetables.

The Greenland ports were visited, where a moderate amount of fur
clothing and fifty Esquimau dogs were purchased. On June 27th the
Advance entered Melville Bay, and standing boldly to the westward,
although hindered by the loose drifting ice, was favored by an offshore
gale, and in ten days passed into the open sea west of Cape York, known
to Arctic voyagers as the "North Water," the only misfortune being the
loss of a whaleboat. In order to secure retreat Kane, fortunately for
himself as it afterward proved, cached his metallic life-boat, filled
with boat stores, on Littleton Island. Favored by the conditions of the
ice Kane rounded Cape Hatherton, when the main pack setting southward
obliged him to seek shelter in Refuge Harbor, a land-locked cove. Later
the Advance was able, as the ice opened, to make sail and pass around
Cairn Point, but a violent gale broke her from her moorings and nearly
wrecked her. The ice conditions were now so adverse that seven of his
eight officers addressed to him written opinions in favor of a return to
a more southern harbor. Such retrograde movement would have removed them
from the contemplated field of operations, and Kane declined. Every
favorable opportunity of warping the brig--she could be moved in no
other way--was availed of, and despite most difficult conditions of ice
and water, the brig being on her beam-ends at low tide and jammed by
floes at high water, she was moved a number of miles to the eastward,
and on September 9th was put into winter-quarters in Rensselaer Harbor,
78 deg. 37' N., 71 deg. 14' W., which, says Kane, "we were fated never to leave
together--a long resting-place to her, for the same ice is around her
still."

[Illustration: The Coming Arctic Night.]

Scarcely were they moored than signs of coming winter crowded fast one
after another; the flowers were blackened by frost; long lines of flying
water-fowl trended southward, leaving solitary the hardy snow-bird; the
sun grew lower from day to day with startling rapidity, and the young
ice cemented the separated old floes into one solid roadway for the
sledgemen. Kane set about exploring the country and travelled some fifty
miles to Mary Minturn River, whence from adjoining high land he had a
view of Washington land, the vicinity of Cape Constitution. During this
journey he first observed the peculiar ice formation now known as the
ice-foot, but then novel. It is best described in his words: "We were on
a table or shelf of ice which clung to the base of rocks overlooking the
sea, ... with huge angular blocks, some many tons in weight, scattered
over its surface." Hayes and Wilson travelled some fifty miles into the
interior till their further progress was stopped by the edge of the
inland ice. McGary and Bonsall, with sledge party of seven, made three
caches to the northeast, the farthest being in 79 deg. 12' N., 65 deg. 25' W.,
under the face of an enormous glacier, to which the name of Humboldt was
given.

The winter passed quietly, the officers making tidal, astronomical,
magnetic, and meteorological observations, while the men, engaged in
ordinary pursuits, kept in health. Unfortunately fifty-seven, nearly
all, of the dogs died, thus depriving Kane of his main reliance for
field operations. The extreme cold--the mean temperature for December to
March, inclusive, being thirty-two degrees below zero--had reduced the
fuel so that the allowance was three buckets a day. Other supplies
commenced to show their need or inadequacy; oil for lamps failed, as did
fresh meat from game, and unfortunately there was no canned meat, only
salted.

Despite his loss of dogs Kane decided on laying out new depots, and with
the advance of March he watched eagerly the temperature. From the 10th
to the 19th the cold averaged seventy-six degrees below the
freezing-point. He started his man-sledge on the 20th, under charge of
Brooks, first officer, with seven others at the drag-ropes.
Unfortunately the equipment was either somewhat defective or some of the
party were inexperienced in the methods needful for self-preservation in
such extreme cold. Kane gives no details of the causes of the calamity
save to say that "a heavy gale from the north-northeast broke upon the
party, and the temperature fell to fifty-seven below zero."

The first news of the disaster came from Sontag, Ohlsen, and Petersen,
who suddenly appeared in the cabin, at midnight of March 31st, swollen,
haggard, and hardly able to speak. Kane continues: "They had left their
companions in the ice, risking their own lives to bring us the news;
Brooks, Baker, Wilson, and Pierre, were all lying frozen and disabled.
Where? They could not tell; somewhere among the hummocks to the
northeast; it was drifting heavily around them. Irish Tom had stayed to
care for the others. It was vain to question them, for they were sinking
with fatigue and hunger, and could hardly be rallied enough to tell us
the direction."

Kane instantly organized a relief party of ten men, which, despite his
delicate physique, he headed himself. Taking Ohlsen, the most rational
of the sufferers, in a fur bag, and as lightly equipped as was possible,
the rescuers moved out in a temperature seventy-eight degrees below
freezing. Ohlsen fell asleep, but on awakening was of no use as guide
owing to his delirious condition. Reaching a large level floe Kane put
up his tent and scattered his party to find traces of the lost men.
Eighteen hours had now elapsed and Kane's own party was in a deplorable
state, partly owing to the extreme cold and partly to extreme
nervousness arising from anxiety and sympathy. He says: "McGary and
Bonsall, who had stood out our severest marches, were seized with
trembling fits and short breath, and in spite of all my efforts I
fainted twice on the snow." Fortunately Hans, the Esquimau, found a
sledge-track which led to the camp in a few hours, where Kane found the
four men on their backs, whose welcome greeting, "We expected you: we
were sure you would come," proved how great was their confidence in
their commander. The day was extremely cold and most providentially
clear and sunny, but even with these favoring conditions it was almost a
miracle that they were able to drag the frozen men to the brig. "The
tendency to sleep," says Kane, "could only be overcome by mechanical
violence; and when at last we got back to the brig, still dragging the
wounded men instinctively behind us, there was not one whose mind was
found to be unimpaired." Baker and Schubert died; Wilson and Brooks
finally recovered, losing, however, part of their feet by amputation.

[Illustration: Esquimau Boys Fishing.]

Kane determined to lead the next party himself, and near the end of
April, 1854, with seven men he attempted to lay down an india-rubber
boat high up on the Greenland coast. He had, however, sadly overrated
the strength of his men and of himself. About eighty miles from the
brig, near Dallas Bay, one man broke down entirely and four others were
partly disabled, and their cache was made at that point with many
misgivings, as bears had destroyed the stores laid down the previous
autumn. The troubles of the party now commenced, for Kane, fainting
while making an observation, had to be hauled back by the disabled men.
Despite the moderate temperature Kane's left foot froze, his limbs
became rigid and badly swollen, fainting spells were more frequent, and
he fell into alternate spells of delirium and unconsciousness, in which
state his broken-down sledge crew conveyed him by forced marches to the
brig, where, says Hayes, the surgeon, he arrived nearly insensible and
so swollen by scurvy as to be hardly recognizable, and in such a
debilitated state that an exposure of a few more hours would have
terminated his life. Kane's wonderful recuperative powers speedily
restored him from his nearly helpless condition to a state of
comparative good health, but he could not conceal his evident inability
to personally attempt further sledge journeys that spring.

In this emergency he decided to send his surgeon, Dr. I. I. Hayes, to
explore the western shore of Smith's Strait, from Cape Sabine northward,
and for this purpose detailed Godfrey with the seven best dogs
available.

The ice over Smith's Sound was extremely rough, so that progress was
slow and tedious. Finally, with his provisions nearly exhausted, Hayes
reached land in the vicinity of Dobbin Bay and made his farthest at Cape
Hayes, which, according to his observations, was in about 79 deg. 45' N.
Hayes was stricken with snow-blindness; the journey was extremely
exhausting; Godfrey broke down, and the dogs were so nearly worn out
that at the last camp they abandoned sleeping-bags, extra clothing, and
everything except arms and instruments. Kane says that both men were
snow-blind on arrival at the brig, and the doctor, in a state of
exhaustion, had to be led to his bedside to make his report.

Impressed with Hayes's success on the west shore of Smith's Sound, Kane
decided to send Morton northward on the Greenland side so as to
determine the extent of the frozen channel seen by Hayes from his
farthest. Morton was supported by a sledge party of four men, who
reached Humboldt glacier after ten days' travel, and were here joined by
Esquimau Hans with a dog-sledge. On the 18th the supporting party turned
homeward, while Morton and Hans, with a dog-sledge, started northward,
travelling about five miles distant from and parallel with the face of
Humboldt glacier.

On June 24th Morton's northward progress was stopped by very high,
perpendicular cliffs washed by open water and free from the customary
ice-foot. All efforts to pass around the projecting cliff, to which the
name of Cape Constitution was given, proved unavailing. Morton says:
"The knob to which I climbed was over five hundred feet in height, and
from it not a speck of ice was to be seen as far as I could observe; the
sea was open, the swell came from the northward, ... and the surf broke
in on the rocks below in regular breakers."

Morton, in his report, described two islands opposite Cape Constitution;
Kennedy Channel as about thirty-five miles wide, running due north and
having an unbroken mountainous land along its western limits. Twenty
miles, estimated, due south of Cape Constitution, Morton made the
latitude, by meridian altitude of the sun, 80 deg. 41' N., which by dead
reckoning made the cape 81 deg. 1'. Kane gives its latitude, corrected by
triangulation, as 81 deg. 22' N.

These discoveries, strengthening Kane's belief in an open polar sea,
caused him to put forth on his return such statements and
generalizations as drew forth sharp criticisms, wherein the correctness
and value of all the field work of his expedition were impugned.

It would be most gratifying to Americans if adverse criticisms as to
distances travelled and astronomical positions determined could be
refuted. It is, however, a matter of fact, not of opinion, that nearly
all the given latitudes are much too far to the north, while no
considerable distance was travelled which was not overestimated from
fifty to one hundred per cent. These blemishes on Kane's great work
doubtless arose from two causes: first, his implicit confidence in the
ability and accuracy of his subordinates, and, second, to his poetic
temperament, which transformed into beauty the common things of life and
enhanced their interest by striking contrasts of high lights and deep
shadows.

[Illustration: An Arctic Stream.]

Subsequent expeditions have surveyed and charted Kennedy Channel with an
accuracy leaving little to be desired, and as a result it is now known
that the open "sea" seen by Morton was simply the ice-free water of the
southern half of Kennedy Channel, which condition obtains during a great
part of each year. The descriptions of the region by Morton in his
report, though simple, are yet so accurate and free from exaggeration as
to prove conclusively his entire honesty. When, however, his
astronomical observations and estimates of distances are considered,
Morton's incompetency is apparent, as they are, in common with most of
the other field work, erroneous and misleading. The latitude of Cape
Constitution was overstated fifty-two geographic miles by Kane and
thirty-one miles by Morton, while Kennedy Channel, instead of being
thirty-five miles wide, ranges only from seventeen to twenty-five. The
farthest mountain seen was Mount Ross, on the north side of Carl Ritter
Bay, about 80 deg. 58' N., more than ninety miles to the southward of its
assumed position. Kane's personal knowledge of Morton's honesty was so
complete that he placed equal confidence in his ability and accuracy, an
error of judgment arising largely from Kane's great affection for his
subordinate.

In the meantime the Etah Esquimaux, most fortunately for Kane, had
discovered and visited the Advance, and through their friendly offices
the expedition profited largely.

The summer of 1854 disclosed the error of wintering in Rensselaer
Harbor, for it passed without freeing the brig from ice. The situation,
Kane relates, was most unpromising, and near the middle of July he
determined on a desperate attempt to communicate with the English
expeditionary vessels supposed to be at Beechy Island, several hundred
miles to the southwest. Kane with five others started in a whaleboat,
but owing to the bad ice returned unsuccessful after an absence of
eighteen days.

On August 18th Kane regards it as an obvious fact that they must look
another winter in the face, and says: "It is horrible--yes, that is the
word--to look forward to another year of disease and darkness to be met
without fresh food or fuel. The physical energies of the party have
sensibly declined; resources are diminished; there are but fifty gallons
of oil saved from the summer seal hunt; we are scant of fuel; our food
consists now of ordinary marine stores and is by no means suited to
dispel scurvy; our molasses is reduced to forty gallons and our dried
fruits seem to have lost their efficiency."

Under these discouraging circumstances came the most trying experiences
of the expedition. The majority of the party entertained the idea that
escape to the south by boats was still practicable despite the lateness
of the summer, although Kane's own experience in the previous month had
shown the futility of such an effort. Conscious, however, that he could
control only by moral influence the majority who were of this opinion,
he decided to appeal to them. On August 24th he assembled the entire
crew, set forth eloquently that such an effort must be exceedingly
hazardous, escape southward almost improbable, and strongly advised them
to forego the project. However, he ended by freely according his
permission to such as were desirous of making the attempt, provided that
they would organize under an officer before starting and renounce in
writing all claims upon the expedition. Nine out of the seventeen,
headed by Petersen, the Danish interpreter, and Dr. Hayes, the surgeon,
decided to attempt the boat journey and left the vessel August 28th.
Kane fitted them out liberally, provided every possible appliance to
facilitate and promote their success, and gave them a written assurance
of a hearty welcome should they be driven to return. One of the party,
Riley, rejoined Kane within a few days, and well into the Arctic winter,
on December 7th, Bonsall and Petersen returned through the aid of the
Esquimaux. They reported to Kane that their associates were some two
hundred miles distant, their energies broken, provisions nearly gone,
divided in their counsel, and desirous of returning to share again the
fortunes of the Advance. Kane immediately sent supplies to the suffering
party by the natives, and took active measures to facilitate their
return, and on December 12th had the great joy of seeing the entire
expedition reunited. In this connection Kane properly notes the humane
actions of the Esquimaux, saying: "Whatever may have been their motives,
their conduct to our friends was certainly full of humanity. They drove
at flying speed; every hut gave its welcome as they halted; the women
were ready without invitation to dry and chafe their worn-out guests."

Kane, it may be added, did not allude in his official report to the
Secretary of the Navy to this temporary division of his command, which,
however, is told, both in his own narrative and in that of Dr. Hayes, in
his "Arctic Boat Journey."

As winter went on they hunted unavailingly for game, and the abundant
supplies hitherto obtained from the Etah Esquimaux failed, owing to the
unfavorable ice conditions, which caused a famine among the natives and
reduced them to the lowest stages of misery and emaciation. Scurvy with
its varying phases also sapped the energies of the crew, while Hayes was
disabled from amputation of a portion of his frozen foot.

When practically the entire crew must be said to have been on the
sick-list, Blake and Godfrey decided to desert and take their chances
with the Esquimaux. The plan being detected by Kane, Blake remained, but
Godfrey deserted, and with Hans, the Esquimau, remained absent nearly a
month. Godfrey, however, contributed to the support of the expedition by
sending supplies of meat, and later returned under duress.

With the returning spring of 1855 the necessity of abandoning the brig
was apparent to all; the ship was practically little more than a shell,
as everything that could possibly be used without making her completely
unseaworthy had been consumed for fire-wood. There remained in April
only a few weeks' supply of food and fuel, while the solidity of the ice
in the vicinity of Rensselaer Harbor indicated the impossibility of an
escape by vessel. It was no slight task to move the necessary stock of
provisions and stores to their boats and to the open water in the
vicinity of Cape Alexander. This was, however, safely accomplished by
the middle of June, the vessel having been formally abandoned on May
17th. The final casualty in the party occurred near Littleton Island,
when Ohlsen, in a tremendous and successful effort to save a loaded
sledge from loss in broken ice, so injured himself internally that he
died within three days. During this retreating journey Kane records the
invaluable assistance of the Esquimaux, who "brought daily supplies of
birds, assisted in carrying boat-stores, and invariably exhibited the
kindliest feelings and strictest honesty." Leaving Cape Alexander on
June 15, 1854, Cape York was passed on July 21st, and, crossing Melville
Bay along the margin of its land ice in five days, Kane reached the
north coast of Greenland on August 3d, forty-seven days from Cape
Alexander.

At Disco the party met Lieutenant Hartstene, whose squadron, sent to
relieve Kane, had already visited Cape Alexander, and learning from the
natives of Kane's retreat by boat to the south turned promptly back to
the Greenland ports. Surrounded by all the comforts and luxuries which
the means or thoughtfulness of their rescuing comrades of the navy could
furnish, Kane and his men made a happy journey southward to meet the
grand ovation that greeted them from their appreciative countrymen in
New York, on October 11, 1855.

Neither the anxiety of countless friends nor the skill of his
professional brethren could long preserve to his family, to the navy,
and to the country the ebbing life of the gallant Kane. The disease
which for twenty years had threatened his life now progressed with
rapidity, and on February 16, 1857, he died at Havana, Cuba.

No single Arctic expedition of his generation added so greatly to the
knowledge of the world as did that of Kane's. In ethnology it
contributed the first full account of the northernmost inhabitants of
the world, the Etah Esquimaux; in natural history it supplied extensive
and interesting information as to the flora and fauna of extreme western
Greenland, especially valuable from its isolation by the surrounding
inland ice; in physical sciences the magnetic, meteorological, tidal,
and glacier observations were extremely valuable contributions; in
geography it extended to a higher northerly point than ever before a
knowledge of polar lands, and it opened up a practical and safe route
for Arctic exploration which has been more persistently and successfully
extended poleward than any other.

Of Kane's conduct under the exceptionally prolonged and adverse
circumstances attendant on his second Arctic voyage, it is to be said
that he displayed the characteristics of a high and noble character.
Considerate of his subordinates, assiduous in performing his
multifarious duties as commander, studying ever to alleviate the mental
and physical ailments of his crew, and always unsparing of himself
whenever exposure to danger, hardships, or privations promised definite
results. It is not astonishing that these qualities won and charmed all
his associates, equals or subordinates, and that they followed him
unhesitatingly into the perils and dangers that Kane's enthusiastic and
optimistic nature led him to brave, with the belief that to will was to
do.

The career of Kane cannot be more beautifully and truthfully summarized
than was done in the funeral sermon over his bier: "He has traversed the
planet in its most inaccessible places; has gathered here and there a
laurel from every walk of physical research in which he strayed; has
gone into the thick of perilous adventure, abstracting in the spirit of
philosophy, yet seeing in the spirit of poesy; has returned to invest
the very story of his escape with the charms of literature and art, and
dying at length in the morning of his fame, is now lamented with mingled
affection and pride by his country and the world."




X.

ISAAC ISRAEL HAYES,

AND THE OPEN POLAR SEA.


History affords many examples wherein neither the originator nor the
early advocate of a striking idea has reaped fame therefrom, and their
names give way to some persistent, tireless worker who forces the
subject on public attention by his ceaseless efforts. Among Arctic
theories none has more fully occupied and interested the mind of the
general public than that of an open, navigable sea in the polar regions.
In connection with this theory the minds of Americans turn naturally to
Dr. I. I. Hayes, who, not the originator, inherited his belief therein
from the well-known Professor Maury, through the mediation of Kane,
Hayes's Arctic commander. DeHaven thought he saw signs of Maury's
ice-free sea to the northward of Wellington Strait, Kane through Morton
found it at Cape Constitution, Hayes recognized it a few miles farther
up Kennedy Channel, but Markham turned it into a frozen sea in 83 deg. 20'
N. latitude, and Lockwood, from Cape Kane, on the most northerly land of
all time, rolled the frozen waste yet to the north, beyond the
eighty-fourth parallel, to within some three hundred and fifty miles of
the geographical Pole.

[Illustration: Isaac Israel Hayes.]

Isaac Israel Hayes was born in Chester County, Pa., March 5, 1832. He
gained the title of doctor by graduation in the University of
Pennsylvania, in 1853, in which year, at twenty-four hours' notice, he
accepted the appointment, procured his outfit, and sailed as surgeon of
Kane's Arctic expedition. An account of this voyage appears in the
sketch of Dr. Kane, but some further reference to it is now necessary.
Hayes, it will be remembered, was the surgeon, a position which exempted
him from field-work. However, when Kane and others broke down, Hayes
volunteered, and was sent with Godfrey, a seaman, and a team of seven
dogs to explore the west coast of Smith Sound. The journey lasted from
May 20 to June 1, 1853, and, all things considered, such as defective
equipment, rough ice, and attacks of snow-blindness, the results were
unusually creditable.

The rough ice travelled over is thus described by Hayes: "We were
brought to a halt by a wall of broken ice ranging from five to thirty
feet in height.... We had not a foot of level travelling. Huge masses of
ice from twenty to forty feet in height were heaped together; in
crossing these ridges our sledge would frequently capsize and roll over
and over--dogs, cargo, and all." Hayes finally reached land on May 27th,
at a bluffy headland "to the north and east of a little (Dobbin) bay,
which seemed to terminate about ten miles inland." This point, called
later Cape Hayes, was placed by him by observations in 79 deg. 42' N., 71 deg.
17' W. From his farthest Hayes mentions the sea-floe as continuing in a
less rough condition to the northward, and correctly describes the
interior of Grinnell Land as a great mountain-chain following the trend
of the coast.

His broken sledge and nearly exhausted provisions obliged Hayes to
return, and in so doing he crossed Dobbin Bay to, and passed under the
shadow of, the noble headland of Cape Hawks, where they gave their dogs
the last scrap of pemican. Hayes resolved to here abandon all his extra
clothing, sleeping-bags, etc., some forty pounds, a rash act, as they
must have been between sixty and seventy miles from the brig, and in
case of a storm would have perished. The first day's return journey the
dogs were fed with seal-skin, from old boots, and a little lamp-lard,
and the day following with bread crumbs, lard scrapings, and seal-skin
off mittens and trousers. The travellers got scanty rest, dozing in the
sun on the sledge, and finally reached Rensselaer Harbor snow-blind and
utterly exhausted.

Hayes was thus the first white man to put foot on the new land, to which
Kane affixed the name of Grinnell. It is impossible to understand Kane's
failure to properly recognize this successful and arduous journey of
Hayes, and one looks in vain for confirmation of Kane's claim that he
"renewed and confirmed," in April, 1854, the work of Hayes and Godfrey,
for his own account shows that Kane's April journey failed completely to
reach Grinnell Land.

Two months after his journey to Grinnell Land, Hayes was called on to
decide whether he would remain with Kane at Rensselaer Harbor, where the
unbroken ice plainly claimed the brig Advance as its own for another
year, sharing the hardships and dangers of a second Arctic winter, or,
fleeing south without his commander, seek safety and shelter through a
boat journey down Smith Sound, and across Melville Bay, to the northern
Danish settlement, Upernivik, in Greenland. Hayes, unfortunately for his
reputation, yielded to the majority, and nine of the party, headed by
Petersen, Sontag, and Hayes, decided to go, while only six white men and
Esquimau Hans remained. It is true that Kane had only two weeks before
returned from an unsuccessful attempt to reach Beechy Island, as
difficult a task as the voyage to Upernivik, which he had quitted his
brig to lead in person; but such action should not have been viewed as a
justification for again separating the party.

[Illustration: Upernivik.]

Hayes alleges in extenuation that Kane had previously announced to the
crew that their labors would thereafter be directed homeward, that the
attempted journey to Beechy Island was solely to procure aid, that the
"boat journey" simply changed the direction of their efforts, save that
it was led by Petersen and not by Kane. Further, that the departure of
the majority of the crew would give augmented health-conditions, space,
and food to those who remained.

Accepting Kane's permission, freely accorded, as he says, to make the
boat journey, liberally equipped with such supplies as the brig had, and
assured of a hearty welcome should they return, the boat party left
Rensselaer Harbor, August 28, 1853, confident of its ability to succeed.

Sudden cold, sledging accidents, and bad ice soon caused Riley to return
to the brig; but despite sea-soaked bedding, injured limbs, and
exhausting labor, the rest of the boat party persevered with sledge to
the open water, and, launching their whaleboat, proceeded rapidly till a
closed ice-pack stopped them at Littleton Island.

It is unnecessary to detail despairing delays or delusive hopes which
changing conditions of ice and weather alternately aroused, during their
southward journey, nor to recite the hardships and perils arising from
violent gales, drifting snow, the disruption and closing of the pack,
the severe cold of a rapidly advancing winter, their lack of shelter and
insufficiency of proper food. Suffice it to say that, confronted by
impassable ice-floes, they were finally forced, with damaged boat,
depleted supplies, and impaired strength, to establish winter quarters
south of Cape Parry, midway between Whale and Wostenholme Sounds.

The preservation of stores, construction of shelter, and accumulation of
means of subsistence now engrossed their entire energies. The
construction of a hut, although facilitated by a rocky cavern, proved to
be exhausting in the extreme from the difficulty of obtaining material
from the frozen soil. Their most skilful hunters kept the field
continually, but game failed, and from day to day food supply diminished
with, to them, startling rapidity. Eventually reduced to the verge of
starvation, they would have perished but for food obtained from the
Esquimaux, which, though scanty and irregular, yet sustained life.

Affairs went from bad to worse, and with the increasing cold and
diminishing light of December it was decided that they must either
perish or return to the brig; either alternative had its advocates. To
decide was to act. Petersen negotiated with the Esquimaux, and by
judicious admixture of persuasion, command, and force, succeeded in
having the entire boat party transported by sledge to the Advance, where
they were received with fraternal kindness. Hayes relates, "Dr. Kane met
us at the gangway and grasped me warmly by the hand.... Ohlsen folded me
in his arms, and, kissing me, threw me into his warm bed."

The boat journey to Upernivik, which proved dangerous and impracticable
to his small party in advancing winter, proved, with the returning
summer of 1855, not difficult to the reunited party of Kane, and so
ended the boat journey of Hayes and his first Arctic service.

The loss of a portion of his foot, extreme sufferings from exposure, and
his great privations in the Kane expedition failed to abate Hayes's
enthusiasm in Arctic exploration. Immediately on his return to the
United States, in October, 1855, he advocated a second expedition, with
the object of completing the survey of the north coast of Greenland and
Grinnell Land, and to make explorations toward the North Pole. His
strenuous efforts to excite public interest failed at first; but Hayes
devoted himself to lecturing on Arctic subjects, and finally enlisted in
his support most of the scientific societies of the country. The
advocacy of Professors Bache and Henry, and the support of Grinnell,
gave an impulse which finally resulted in the organization of an
expedition, under Hayes's command, and on July 6, 1860, he left Boston
on the sailing schooner United States, with a crew of fourteen.

It is not needful to dwell on his outward voyage farther than to say
that, in addition to the complement of dogs and stock of furs usually
obtained in Greenland, Hayes there recruited dog-drivers, interpreters,
and hunters. At Cape York he also added Hans Hendrik, Kane's dog-driver,
who, smitten with the dusky charms of the daughter of Shang-hu, had
chosen to remain with the Etah Esquimaux rather than return to Danish
Greenland with the Kane retreating party in 1855. Now, five years later,
he showed an equal willingness to quit his adopted tribe for
expeditionary purposes.

[Illustration: Hayes's Winter-Quarters.]

Profiting by the experience of his predecessor, Hayes was unwilling to
push a sailing vessel northward into Kane's Basin, beyond the
seventy-eighth parallel, and wisely decided to establish his
winter-quarters in Foulke Fiord, near Littleton Island, twenty miles to
the south, and about forty miles west, of Kane's quarters. Game proved
abundant both at sea and on land, pleasant relations were established
with their neighbors, the Etah Esquimaux, an observatory built, and
scientific observations inaugurated. Indeed everything looked most
promising for the future.

An autumnal journey of special interest was Hayes's visit to "My Brother
John Glacier," near Port Foulke, which, up to that time, was the most
northerly and one of the most successful attempts to penetrate the
glacier-covering of Greenland, known commonly as the "Inland Ice." With
seven men he penetrated some forty miles or more on the ice, when the
temperature, sinking to thirty-four degrees below zero, with wind,
compelled their immediate return. The ice changed gradually, as they
went inland, from rough to smooth, and the angle of rise decreased from
six to two degrees at their highest, over five thousand feet. A
snow-storm broke on them, and, as Hayes describes, "fitful clouds swept
over the face of the full-orbed moon, which, descending toward the
horizon, glimmered through the drifting snow that hurled out of the
illimitable distance, and scudded over the icy plains--to the eye, in
undulating lines of downy softness; to the flesh, in showers of piercing
darts."

Suddenly misfortunes came on them. Peter, an Esquimau dog-driver,
brought from Upernivik, deserted. Hans Hendrik, in his interesting
"Memoirs," says: "In the beginning of the winter Peter turned a
Kivigtok, that is, fled from human society to live alone up the country.
We were unable to make out what might have induced him to do so.
Searching for him, at last I found his footprints going to the hills."
The poor native was never seen alive, but it eventually transpired that
he sought shelter in a remote and rarely visited Esquimau hut, where he
died of starvation, his body being found in a very emaciated condition
by an Etah native the following spring.

Next the dogs began to die of distemper, which led up to the death of
Sontag, the astronomer. By the 21st of December only nine remained of
thirty fine dogs, and in this contingency it was decided to open up
communication with the Esquimaux of Whale Sound, some one hundred and
fifty miles to the south, for the purchase of dogs. For this journey
Sontag volunteered, and with him went Hans as dog-driver. Hayes waited
week after week, but no news came from either Sontag or Hans. Then
feelings of uneasiness gave place to alarm and fear; for a journey of
Dodge, first mate, proved that the travellers had gone outside Cape
Alexander, where the floe had broken, so that possibly they had been
lost on drifting ice. Hayes was projecting a personal search on January
29th, when two Esquimaux visited the ship and reported that Sontag was
dead. They proved to be advance-couriers of Hans, who arrived a few days
later, with only five of his nine dogs remaining.

In his "Memoirs" Hans relates as follows: "It still blew a gale and the
snow drifting dreadfully, for which reason we resolved to return.... The
ice began breaking up, so we were forced to go ashore and continue our
drive over the ice-foot. At one place the land became impassable, and we
were obliged to return to the ice again. On descending here my companion
(Sontag) fell through the ice, which was nothing but a thick sheet of
snow and water. I stooped, but was unable to seize him, it being very
low tide. As a last resort I remembered a strap hanging on the
sledge-poles; this I threw to him, and when he had tied it around his
body I pulled, but found it very difficult. At length I succeeded in
drawing him up, but he was at the point of freezing to death, and now in
the storm and drifting snow he took off his clothes and slipped into the
sleeping-bag, whereupon I placed him on the sledge and repaired to our
last resting-place. Our road being very rough, I cried for despair from
want of help; but I reached the snow-hut." He recites that Sontag
remained unconscious to his death, and that the breaking up of the ice
around Cape Alexander, confirmed by Dodge's journey, prevented his
return to the ship at that time. There was much talk about Sontag's
death, but Hans's account is doubtless correct.

Sontag was the only trained scientific observer in the party; and in
addition, from his skill, experience, and enthusiasm in Arctic work, was
almost indispensable to Hayes. His death was a great blow to the party,
socially as well as professionally.

In early spring Hayes succeeded in obtaining the co-operation of the
Etah Esquimaux in sledging, and in a preliminary journey visited his old
winter-quarters, where he had served with Kane six years before. Where
they had abandoned the Advance, surrounded by the solid pack, he found
ice nearly as high as were her mastheads; no vestige of the vessel
remained except a bit of plank, and its fate was a matter of conjecture,
though little doubt exists that she was ultimately crushed by the
disruption of the pack during some violent gale. It was during this
journey that Hayes experienced an intense degree of cold. Stating that
the thermometer which hung inside the hut against the snow-wall
indicated thirty-one degrees below zero, Hayes says: "We crawled out in
the open air to try the sunshine. 'I will give you the best buffalo skin
in the ship, Jansen, if the air outside is not warmer than in that den
which you have left so full of holes.' And it really seemed so. Human
eye never lit upon a more pure and glowing morning. The sunlight was
sparkling all over the landscape and the great world of whiteness; and
the frozen plain, the hummocks, the icebergs, and the tall mountains
made a picture inviting to the eye. Not a breath of air was stirring.
Jansen gave in without a murmur. I brought out the thermometer and set
it up in the shadow of an iceberg near by. I really expected to see it
rise; but no, down sank the little red column of alcohol, down, down
almost to the bulb, until it touched sixty-eight and a half degrees
below zero, Fahrenheit, equal to one hundred and a half degrees below
the freezing-point of water. It struck me as a singular circumstance
that this great depression of temperature was not perceptible to the
senses, which utterly failed to give us even so much as a hint that here
in this blazing sunlight we were experiencing about the coldest
temperature ever recorded."

[Illustration: Adrift on a Berg.]

After this preliminary journey Hayes laid down supplies at the nearest
point on the Greenland shore south of, and facing, Cape Hawks. This
place, called Cairn Point, was to be the base of his summer's campaign
to the north. Finally everything was ready for the main journey, and the
party started on the night of April 3, 1861. Twelve men, the entire
available force, were put into the field: Jansen with an eight-dog
sledge, Knorr with a six-dog sledge, and a ten-man sledge on which was
mounted a twenty-foot metallic life-boat, with which Hayes hoped to
navigate the Polar Sea. The journey lay directly to the north over the
frozen surface of Kane Sea, where the difficulties of travel through the
broken hummocky ice were so great, and the unfitness of some of the men
for Arctic travel so speedily developed, that Hayes was forced to
abandon his efforts to get the boat across the frozen sea, which, he
says, "could not have been done by one hundred men." On April 24th Hayes
records that he had been twenty-two days from the schooner, and was now
distant only thirty miles from Cairn Point. Four days later, still
struggling across the rough ice of Kane Sea, the party was practically
broken down, being, as Hayes chronicles, "barely capable of attending to
their own immediate necessities without harboring the thought of
exerting themselves to complete a journey to which they can see no
termination, and in the very outset of which they feel that their lives
are being sacrificed."

In this critical condition Hayes changed his plans, and sent back the
entire party to the brig, except Knorr, Jansen, and McDonald, whom he
selected as best fitted to make the northern journey, which he had
decided to make with fourteen dogs and two sledges. Turning northward
with renewed confidence and vigor, though yet struggling with various
misfortunes through a tangle of broken hummocks, Hayes reached Cape
Hawks on May 11th. The condition of the ice may be judged from the fact
that he had been thirty-one days in making a distance of eighty miles, a
little more than two miles a day. Three days' farther march took him to
Cape Frazier, where the flagstaff erected by him in 1853 yet stood
erect. At the end of the next march, where they were driven to the sea
ice owing to the impossibility of following the ice-foot, Hayes
ascended the hillside, whence, he says, "No land was visible to the
eastward. As it would not have been difficult through such an atmosphere
to see a distance of fifty or sixty miles, it would appear therefore
that Kennedy Channel is somewhat wider than heretofore supposed."

On May 15th Jansen was disabled for travelling by a sprained back and
injured leg, and the next morning was scarcely able to move. Hayes
decided to leave the disabled man in charge of McDonald and proceed with
Knorr, his purpose being "to make the best push I could and travel as
far as my provisions warranted, reach the highest attainable latitude
and secure such a point of observation as would enable me to form a
definite opinion respecting the sea before me."

Rough ice and deep snow so impeded his progress the first day that he
only made nine miles in as many hours. Ten hours' march compelled them
to again camp, and four hours of the third day brought them to the
southern cape of a bay which he determined to cross. After travelling
four miles the rotten ice and frequent water-channels proved that the
bay was impassable, and therefore they went into camp. The next day
Hayes climbed to the top of the cliff, some eight hundred feet high,
whence, he says, "the sea beneath me was a mottled sheet of white and
dark patches multiplied in size as they receded until the belt of the
water-sky blended them together.... All the new evidence showed that I
stood upon the shores of the polar basin, and that the broad ocean lay
at my feet.... There was seen in dim outline the white sloping summit of
a noble head-land, the most northern known land upon our globe. I judged
it to be in latitude 82 deg. 30' N., or four hundred and fifty miles from
the North Pole.... There was no land visible except the coast on which I
stood."

Hayes, before returning to his ship, deposited in a cairn a record,
dated May 19, 1861, setting forth his trip, stating that his
observations placed him in 81 deg. 35' N. latitude, and 70 deg. 30' W.
longitude; that his further progress was stopped by rotten ice and
cracks; that he believed the polar basin was navigable during the months
of July, August, and September, and that he would make an attempt to get
through Smith's Sound when the ice broke that summer.

The extent and scope of Hayes's discoveries, as set forth in his account
of the expedition in "The Open Polar Sea," gave rise to persistent and
adverse criticism both as to the soundness of his judgment and also as
to the accuracy of his observations. Three expeditions, by their later
surveys, have demonstrated that the astronomical position assigned by
Hayes to his "farthest" on the east coast of Grinnell Land is
impossible. There is unmistakably an error either of latitude or of
longitude. Cape Joseph Goode, it is to be remarked, is in the longitude
assigned by Hayes, while Cape Lieber is no less than six and a half
degrees to the eastward; reversely, Lieber corresponds nearly to Hayes's
latitude, while Cape Joseph Goode is a degree and a half to the south.
Grave and undisputable errors in other latitudes, all being too far to
the north, indicate that the mistake in this instance is also of
latitude. In justice to Hayes it should be said that the latitude of his
"farthest" depended solely on a single observation with a small field
sextant of the meridian altitude of the sun. While this is the common
method on shipboard it is exceedingly objectionable in Arctic land
determinations. It depends not only on the honesty of the observer, but
on the condition of the sextant and also on the manner in which it is
handled; either of these three qualities being faulty the observation is
incorrect. The tendency of the sextant to "slip," as it is turned over
for reading, and the almost invariably benumbed condition of the hands
of the traveller, indicate the extreme difficulty of making any single
reading with accuracy. Again, with haste demanded so often by adverse
circumstances, the index of a very small sextant may be misread a whole
degree. It is unquestioned that one or the other of these accidents
happened to Hayes, for the independent investigations of Bessels,
Schott, and others lead to the inevitable conclusion, which any
scientist may verify by examination of Hayes's widely separated data,
that his "farthest" is placed too far north. The consensus of opinion in
the Lady Franklin expedition pointed to Cape Joseph Goode, 80 deg. 14' N.,
as Hayes's "farthest," as it agreed better with Hayes's description than
any other point; it may be added that from this cape Hayes could not
see the Greenland coast above Cape Constitution, which he leaves blank
on his chart, and again, here the unusually heavy spring tides, of
nearly twenty-five-foot range, break up the southern half of the floes
of Kennedy Channel, thus forming early in the year large
water-spaces--the Open Polar Sea of Hayes and Morton.

Even if Hayes's sight of the Open Polar Sea proved visionary, and
certain unskilled observations failed of verification, yet his
adventurous voyage was not barren of geographical results. He was the
first civilized man to land on the shores of Ellesmere Land, along the
coasts of which, between the seventy-seventh and seventy-eighth
parallels, he made important discoveries; while farther to the
northward, Hayes Sound, Bache Island, and other unknown lands and waters
were added to our maps through his strenuous exertions.

Breaking out his schooner on July 10, 1861, an unprecedentedly early
date for an Arctic ship, he quickly decided that he could hope for no
further northing in a sailing vessel. However, he crossed the strait to
the unvisited shores of Ellesmere Land, where he made such an
examination of the coast as was practicable, and then turned his face
homeward.

Hayes was fully alive to the absolute necessity of steam-power for
complete Arctic success, but strictly limited means obliged him to go in
a sailing vessel or not at all. He plainly foresaw the magnificent
success awaiting the first expedition that should carry steam-power into
Smith Sound, and full of dreams of future Arctic work he impatiently
returned to the United States. It was not to be. Civil war raged, and
the country called its loyal sons to arms. Hayes was not the man to
falter at such a juncture. He at once tendered his schooner to the
government for such use as was possible, and volunteered for the war,
where his activity as the head of a great war hospital taxed to the
utmost the mental and physical powers which had so long been occupied in
arduous efforts to solve the riddle of the ice-free sea.

Hayes visited Greenland a third time, in 1869, with the Arctic artist,
William Bradford, in the steam-sealer Panther. Arctic scenery was their
quest, and so they visited the fiord of Sermitsialik, where the inland
ice, which covers the greater part of Greenland, pushes down into the
sea as an enormous glacier, with a front two and a half miles wide.

Here Hayes witnessed the birth of an iceberg, of which he says: "It
would be impossible for mere words alone to convey an adequate idea of
the action of this new-born child of the Arctic frosts. Think of a solid
block of ice, a third of a mile deep, and more than half a mile in
lateral diameter, hurled like a mere toy away into the water, and set to
rolling to and fro by the impetus of the act. Picture this and you will
have an image of power not to be seen by the action of any other forces
upon the earth. The disturbance of the water was inconceivably fine.
Waves of enormous magnitude were rolled up with great violence against
the glacier, covering it with spray; and billows came tearing down the
fiord, their progress marked by the crackling and crumbling ice which
was everywhere in a state of the wildest agitation for the space of
several miles."

The famous mine of cryolite, the only valuable mineral deposit in
Greenland; the Hope Sanderson of John Davis's great voyage of 1587, with
its lofty crest and innumerable flocks of wildfowl; Tessuissak, the most
northerly settlement of Greenland; Duck Islands, the haunts of the
eider, and the chosen rendezvous of ice-stayed whalers; Devil's Thumb,
the great, wonderful pillar, to the base of which Hayes struggled up
thirteen hundred feet above the ice-covered sea, and Sabine Island, all
saw the Panther, in its pleasure-seeking journey. If no geographical
results sprang from this voyage, it had a literary outcome in Hayes's
book, "The Land of Desolation," and in a series of detached sketches,
which in beauty and interest are unsurpassed as regards life in Danish
Greenland.

Hayes died in New York City, December 17, 1881. To the last he
maintained a lively interest in Arctic exploration, and ever and again
he favored polar research, always with an alternative scheme of his old
harbor, Foulke fiord, as the base of operations. He resented the
appellation "Great Frozen Sea" as properly characterizing the Arctic
Ocean to the north of Greenland, and to the last held fast to the ideal
of his youth, the belief of his manhood, "The Open Polar Sea."




XI.

CHARLES FRANCIS HALL,

AND THE NORTH POLE.


Among the many exploring expeditions that have crossed the Arctic Circle
with the sole view of reaching the North Pole, one only has sailed
entirely under the auspices of the United States. This expedition was
commanded neither by an officer of one of the twin military services nor
by a sailor of the merchant marine, but its control was intrusted to a
born Arctic explorer, Charles Francis Hall. Born in 1821, in Rochester,
N. H., Hall early quitted his native hills for the freer fields of the
West, as the Ohio Valley was then called, and later settled in
Cincinnati. There was ever a spirit of change in him, and as years
rolled on he passed from blacksmith to journalist, from stationer to
engraver. Through all these changes of trades he held fast to one fancy,
which in time became the dominating element of his eventful career: in
early youth, fascinated with books of travel relating to exploration in
the icy zones, he eagerly improved every opportunity to increase his
Arctic library, which steadily grew despite his very limited resources.
His interest in the fate of Franklin was so intense that he followed
with impatience the slow and uncertain efforts for the relief of the
lost explorer. Not content with mere sympathy he also planned an
American search, to be conducted in Her Majesty's ship Resolute.
Learning in 1859 that this Arctic ship was laid up and dismantled he
originated a petition asking that it be loaned for such purpose. The
return of McClintock with definite news of the death of Franklin, and
the retreat and loss of his expeditionary force, put an end to the
petition. Hall, however, despite the admirable and convincing report of
McClintock, persisted in the belief that some members of Franklin's crew
were yet alive, and he determined to solve the problem by visiting King
William Land, the scene of the final disaster. He issued circulars
asking public aid, diligently sought out whalers and explorers who could
give him their personal experiences, and finally determined that he must
go and live with the Esquimaux, and, conforming to their modes of travel
and existence, work out his Arctic problem on new lines.

[Illustration: Charles Francis Hall.]

The inauguration of the plan presented difficulties, for Hall was
without means; but his persistent action created confidence, and the
modest outfit for the voyage was procured through friendly
contributions, while passage on a whaler for himself and baggage was
tendered.

On July 30, 1860, with a whaleboat and scanty supplies, Hall landed
alone on the west coast of Davis Strait, in Frobisher Bay. His base of
operations was Rescue Harbor, 63 deg. N., 65 deg. W., whence he made a series of
sledge journeys during the two years passed in this region. He
re-examined the coasts visited by Frobisher in his eventful voyages of
1575 to 1579, and found the famous gold mine on Meta Incognita, whence
1,300 tons of ore were carried to England, where, as the chronicles
relate, "in the melting and refining 16 tonnes whereof, proceeded 210
ounces of fine silver mixed with gold."

An extensive collection of relics of Frobisher's expedition was made,
which later was given to the Royal Geographical Society. The expedition
of Hall was mainly fruitful in training him for other Arctic work, for
though his knowledge was self-acquired and instruments imperfect, yet
his indefatigable industry and practice in scientific observations made
him a reliable observer by the time of his return. It may be added that
his careful and detailed description of the habits and life of the
Esquimaux of the west coast of Davis Strait are of decided value from
his rigid truthfulness, which caused him to record what he saw without
exaggeration.

Hall's success in obtaining so many relics of Frobisher's voyage of
three centuries previous, and the fact that the Esquimaux yet had
traditionary knowledge of that voyage, encouraged Hall and his friends
to a confident belief that a voyage to the shores of King William Land
would result in the discovery of records, relics, possibly survivors,
and in any event rescue the story of the retreat of Crozier from
oblivion by hearing it from Esquimau eye-witnesses.

Future search operations were to be promoted through his Esquimau
followers, commonly known as Joe and Hannah, who returned with him to
the United States, and further, Hall relied upon his knowledge of the
Esquimau language, in which he had acquired considerable facility during
his long sojourn with them.

Hall's return was in 1862, and in 1864 he was ready for his second
voyage. On August 20th he was landed, with his two natives, a whaleboat,
tent, and a moderate amount of provisions, on Depot Island, in the
extreme northern part of Hudson Bay, in 63 deg. 47' N., 90 deg. W., where Hall
began his life and quest that were to last five weary years.

Preliminary autumnal journeys extended his knowledge, but they were
marked by no definite progress, and the summer of 1864 was spent by the
natives in securing game for the coming winter, thus postponing Hall's
chances of a westward sledge-trip to King William Land yet another year.
Despairing of assistance from natives near the whaling rendezvous, Hall
decided to make his winter-quarters in Repulse Bay, at Fort Hope, 60 deg.
32' N., 87 deg. W., occupied, 1846-47, by the famous explorer, Dr. Rae. Here
he hoped to secure the friendship of the neighboring Esquimaux and lay
up stores of game for the final expedition, and there he wintered in
1865-66, during which he secured about one hundred and fifty reindeer,
some salmon, and ptarmigan. With returning spring the Esquimaux promised
to make the journey, and with quite a party and several dog-sledges
Hall's heart was full of joy and expectation as they moved northward
across Rae Peninsula, on March 30, 1866. His discouragements commenced
with the long halts and frequent detours for hunts, and his
disappointment was complete when the natives decided to turn back from
Cape Weynton, 68 deg. N., 89 deg. W., after having, in twenty-eight days, only
travelled as far with dogs as Rae had gone on foot in five days. Hall
simply records: "My King William party is ended for the present;
disappointed but not discouraged."

The journey and time were not fruitless, for near Cape Weynton he fell
in with four strange Esquimaux, who gave him most valuable information
as to the subject nearest his heart. They related that some of their
people had visited the search ships and had seen Franklin. What was more
to the point, they produced a considerable number of articles that had
once belonged to members of Franklin's party. The most important were
silver articles, such as spoons, forks, etc., which bore the crest of
Franklin and other officers of the lost expedition. These veritable
evidences of the passage of Crozier and others of Franklin's expedition
through this region were fortunately secured by Hall, and were later
supplemented by many others.

Unable to obtain Esquimau assistance the following year, Hall made
journeys here and there wherever it was possible; one, in February,
1867, to Igloolik, the winter-quarters of Parry in 1822, on Boothia
Felix Land, and a second, in 1868, to the Strait of Fury and Hekla,
discovered by Parry in 1825; furthermore, he surveyed the northwest
coast of Melville Peninsula, and filled in the broken line of the
Admiralty chart for the northwest of that peninsula.

Visiting whalers urged on Hall the impossibility of succeeding in
reaching King William Land by aid of natives, and more than one captain
offered to carry him and his party back to the United States. Never
despairing of final success, Hall determined to pass another winter at
Fort Hope, Repulse Bay. Here, learning by experience, and acquiring food
supplies during the winter, he succeeded, in March, 1869, in again
starting westward with ten Esquimaux--men, women, and children--with
well-loaded dog-sledges. Progress was slow and delays frequent, but
still the journey was continued.

[Illustration: Igloos, or Esquimau Huts.]

Their course from Repulse Bay lay overland, by nearly connecting lakes
and rivers, across Rae Peninsula to Committee Bay, thence by another
similar overland route over the south end of Boothia Felix Land, to
James Ross Strait, where King William Land lies some sixty miles to the
west.

Hall, singularly enough, was never able to appreciate the attitude of
the natives in making such a long, dangerous journey merely to please
him, for he quaintly complains that the Esquimaux had no appreciation of
his mission and continually lost valuable time by stopping to smoke and
talk. They now objected to go west of Pelly Bay, but by persuasion
proceeded to Simpson Island, 68 deg. 30' N., 91 deg. 30' W., where a successful
hunt for musk-oxen so restored their spirits that they went on.

At Point Ackland, on the eastern shore of James Ross Strait, Hall
fortunately fell in with natives, with whom he remained nine days, and
from whom he obtained important information. In-nook-poo-zhee-jook
proved to be the chief man of the party, and from him and others were
purchased relics, such as silver spoons, plain and with the crest of
Franklin. Hall was told that these articles came from a large island
where a great many white men died, and that five white men were buried
on an island known to the chief. This Esquimau finally agreed to
accompany Hall and guided him direct across James Ross Strait to a group
of small islets to the east of King William Land, where, on Todd Island,
part of a human thigh-bone was found; snow covering the ground to such a
depth as to make thorough search impossible without long delay.

On May 12, 1869, Hall had the supreme pleasure of putting foot on King
William Land, the object and end of his five years' life among the
Esquimaux. The only tangible result of the search thereon was the
discovery of a human skeleton, and he reluctantly set out on his return.
Esquimaux were fallen in with in Pelly Bay, 68 deg. 30' N., 90 deg. 30' W., and
an old man, Tungnuk, on inquiry regarding Franklin relics in their
possession, told Hall that the natives had found a ship beset near
Ki-ki-tuk, King William Land, and that in getting wood out of it they
made a hole in the ship, which soon after sank. Ko-big, another native,
said that all the white men perished, except two at Ki-ki-tuk, whose
fate was unknown.

Hall felt satisfied, from the stories of the Esquimaux and other
evidences, that he was able to determine the fate of seventy-nine out of
the one hundred and five men of Crozier's party, which retreated in 1848
from the abandoned ships. The Esquimaux told him that Crozier,
Franklin's second in command, had passed near their huts; that he had a
gun in his hand and a telescope around his neck, and that his men were
dragging two boats. Crozier told the natives that they were going to
Repulse Bay. The Esquimaux admitted that they had deserted Crozier owing
to the fact that his party was in a starving condition and their food
was scarce.

As far as Hall could make out, Crozier, late in July, 1848, passed down
the west coast of King William Land with forty men dragging two sledges,
and near Cape Herschel fell in with four Esquimaux families, who, after
communicating with Crozier, fled from the starving party during the
night. From native accounts Hall was also able to enumerate in detail
the points at which the retreating party had died and been buried.

[Illustration: In Winter-Quarters.]

Among other relics collected by Hall were portions of one of the boats,
an oak sledge-runner, a chronometer box with the Queen's broad arrow
engraved thereon, Franklin's mahogany writing-desk, and many pieces of
silver, forks, spoons, knives, and parts of watches. It was claimed by
the natives that one of Franklin's ships made the northwest passage with
five men on board, and in the spring of 1849 was found by them near
O'Reilly Island (68 deg. 30' N., 99 deg. W.).

Hall had now passed five years among the Esquimaux, in which time he had
made sledge journeys aggregating more than three thousand miles;
acquired a thorough knowledge of the language and methods of life of
the natives, and proved the possibility of a white man living the same
life and making the same sledge journeys as the natives; but at the same
time he became conscious that no very extended sledge-work could be done
by Esquimau aid alone. His five years of arduous Arctic life ended in
1869 by his returning home on an American whaler, bringing with him his
faithful Esquimaux, Joe and Hannah.

Hall's return to the United States was simply, however, to pursue
another and greater voyage, in which he believed he would be able to
reach the North Pole.

After strenuous efforts he succeeded in interesting the President, the
Cabinet, and a large number of Congressmen in his project, and on July
12, 1870, Congress appropriated $50,000 for the purpose of the
expedition; authorized the employment of any suitable vessel in the
navy, and provided that the National Academy of Sciences should
prescribe the scope of the scientific observations. An old tug of nearly
four hundred tons burden, rechristened under the name of Polaris, was
selected, overhauled, and strengthened.

Hall sailed from New York June 29th, the party consisting of Captain
Buddington, sailing-master; Dr. Emil Bessel, chief of the scientific
staff; R. W. D. Bryan, astronomer; Sergeant Frederick Meyer, Signal
Corps, meteorologist; seven petty officers, and a crew of fourteen,
together with his faithful servants, Joe and Hannah.

The Polaris was provisioned and equipped for an absence of two and a
half years, and her voyage was destined to be over the route made famous
by the expeditions of Kane and Hayes, through Davis Strait and northward
along the west coast of Greenland, although Hall was at first uncertain
whether he would not enter Jones's Sound, instead of Smith's Strait. The
usual visits to the Greenland ports were made, with resulting stores of
furs, dogs, sledges, and other paraphernalia for exploration in the far
North. To this point the expedition was convoyed by the man-of-war
Congress, which bade the Polaris Godspeed as she left Godhaven on her
lonely journey.

Hans Hendrick, the Esquimau dog traveller, whose services with Kane and
Hayes commended him to Hall, accompanied the expedition with his wife
and children. It was a strange meeting between Morton, the second mate,
and Hans, the Esquimau, who, twenty years before, as subordinates of
Kane, had made together the memorable sledge journey from Rensselaer
Harbor, along the Humboldt Glacier, to Cape Constitution.

[Illustration: An Arctic Fiord.]

The Polaris was favored by an unusually open sea; Melville Bay was
crossed in forty-eight hours and the "North Water" beyond was so free of
ice that the Polaris kept her way unchecked until she reached Hakluyt
Island; even here the ice-pack was so open that the Polaris easily
forced her way. Littleton Island was passed on the evening of August 27,
1870, and later, crossing the parallel of Rensselaer Harbor, the Polaris
attained a higher latitude than any former vessel on this route. Kane
Sea and Kennedy Channel proved equally free of ice, so that the Polaris,
steaming uninterruptedly northward, entered the Arctic Ocean, hitherto
inaccessible, where she was finally stopped by an impenetrable pack, in
82 deg. 26' N. This point was more than two hundred miles directly north of
the farthest reached by Kane's vessel, the Advance. From this
vantage-ground it was seen that the eastern coast-line of Grinnell Land
extended somewhat farther to the north before turning to the west, and
that, on the other hand, the coast of Northern Greenland trended very
nearly eastward. Strenuous, though unavailing, efforts were made to push
the Polaris further northward; failing this, attempts were then made to
find a safe harbor to the eastward, but none was accessible. In the
meantime the main ice-pack of the Arctic Ocean, setting southward to its
normal position, carried the Polaris steadily to the south, through
Robinson Channel, a distance of nearly fifty miles, and nearly caused
her destruction by forcing her on the Greenland coast. Fortunately the
pack opened somewhat, so that the vessel was enabled to change her
position and secure safe anchorage. This place, later named Thank God
Harbor, in 81 deg. 37' N., 61 deg. 44' W., was sheltered by a bold cape to the
north, while the Polaris was protected from the polar pack by an immense
ice-floe, called Providence Berg. This enormous floe-berg, grounded in a
hundred fathoms of water, was by direct measurement four hundred and
fifty feet long, three hundred feet broad, and towered sixty feet above
the level of the sea.

Preparations were at once made to put the crew in winter-quarters, and
on shore an observatory was built for scientific purposes. To the
surprise and delight of the party, seals proved to be quite abundant,
and a small herd of musk-oxen was found, the first of these animals ever
seen on the west coast of Greenland.

Leaving his chief of the scientific staff and his sailing-master to
their respective duties, Hall decided on a preliminary sledge journey in
order to determine the best route for his contemplated journey of the
next spring toward the pole. A heavy fall of snow insured good sledging
and enabled him to leave Thank God Harbor on October 10th, he being
accompanied by the first mate, Chester, the Esquimaux, Joe and Hans
Hendrick, with two dog-sledges and fourteen dogs. In a journey of six
days he attained Cape Brevoort, in 82 deg. N., on the north side of Newman
Bay, a considerable distance to the southward, however, of the point
reached by the Polaris in the Arctic Ocean. In a despatch written at
this point, Hall says, "From Cape Brevoort we can see land extending on
the west side of the strait to the north, a distance of about seventy
miles, thus making land, as far as we can discover, about 83 deg. 5' N." To
illustrate the accuracy of Hall's judgment and his freedom from making
extravagant claims, it may be stated that the detailed surveys of the
British Arctic expedition of 1876 show the most northerly point on the
east coast of Grinnell Land, Cape Joseph Henry, which possibly could be
seen by Hall, was in 82 deg. 55', or within ten miles of the position
assigned it from a distance of seventy miles.

[Illustration: A Woman of the Arctic Highlanders. Sketched from life.]

Hall returned to the Polaris on October 24th, speaking most
encouragingly of his prospects and planning another sledge journey for
the autumn. Within an hour, however, he was taken violently ill, and
upon examination, Dr. Bessels announced that he had been stricken with
apoplexy, that his left side was paralyzed, and that his sickness might
prove fatal. After an illness, with delirium, for several days, he
improved materially, and was even able, through his clerk, to arrange
the records of his late sledge journey, but a recurrence of the attack
caused his death, on November 8, 1871.

The death of Hall left the expedition without a head. However, Captain
Buddington, the sailing-master, and Dr. Bessels, the chief of the
scientific staff, signed an agreement to do all in their power to fulfil
the ultimate object of Hall's ambition. Desultory efforts to go
northward by boat were made without success the following year, and the
only expedition which had definite result was one on foot by Sergeant
Meyer, of the Signal Corps of the United States Army, during which he
reached Repulse Harbor, 82 deg. 9' N., on the shores of the frozen Polar
Sea, at that time the most northerly land ever attained.

The future of the Polaris expedition does not strictly pertain to Hall.
However, the winter was marked by a series of valuable physical
observations, made by Dr. Bessels and Mr. Bryan, the astronomer. In
August, 1872, it was decided to return to the United States. Pushed into
an impenetrable pack, anchored to a floe, the Polaris drifted with the
main ice-pack down Kennedy Channel, through Kane Sea, and into Smith
Sound, where, on October 15, 1872, off Northumberland Island, the pack
was disrupted by a violent gale, which freed the Polaris. Part of her
crew, left upon the ice-pack, experienced the horrors of a mid-winter
drift southward of thirteen hundred miles, and were picked up off the
coast of Labrador by the sealer Tigress, in the spring of 1872. The
Polaris drifted to land in Lifeboat Cove, near Littleton Island, where
the party built winter-quarters on shore, known as Polaris House. In
the succeeding summer they built boats from the remains of their ship,
by means of which they reached Cape York, where their contemplated
journey across Melville Bay was rendered unnecessary by falling in with
the whaler Ravenscraig, which took them to England.

[Illustration: Esquimau Woman. Sketched from life.]

The geographical results of Hall's last expedition were extensive and
valuable. Not only was the Polaris navigated to the highest point then
ever attained by a vessel, but the very shores of the Polar Sea were
visited and explored. Hall carried northward and completed the
exploration of Kennedy Channel; outlined the coast of Hall Basin and
Robinson Channel; extended Grinnell Land northward nearly two degrees
of latitude to practically its extreme limit; added materially to the
northern limits of Greenland, and charted a very extensive portion of
its northern coast. Unfortunately for the general credit of the
expedition, the accurate observations and conservative estimates of Hall
were not adhered to, and in their stead were published, under government
auspices, a chart of Hall's discoveries which proved misleading in many
of its details, extravagant and unreliable in its claims of new northern
lands.

The fidelity, accuracy, and importance of Hall's Arctic work is
recognized, especially by his American and British successors in Smith
Sound. Nares, in his official report to Parliament, states that the east
coast-line of Grinnell Land agreed "so well with Hall's description that
it was impossible to mistake their identity. Their bearing also,
although differing upward of thirty degrees from those of the published
chart, agreed precisely with his published report." Thus Hall merited
the commemorative inscription on the brass tablet which the British
polar expedition of 1875, with a generous appreciativeness creditable to
its own brave men, erected to Hall's memory over his lonely northern
grave. It recognizes Hall as one "who sacrificed his life in the
advancement of science," and further recites that they, "following in
his footsteps, have profited by his experience."




XII.

GEORGE WASHINGTON DE LONG,

AND THE SIBERIAN ARCTIC OCEAN.


Of all the routes followed by explorers attempting to extend northward
our knowledge of unknown lands, there is one which, more than all
others, seems to have been closed by nature to the daring enterprise of
man. While successful voyages to the northward of America, and along the
meridian of Spitzbergen, have been of frequent occurrence, yet it has
been the fortune of one expedition only to penetrate the vast ice-pack
that covers the Arctic Ocean to the north of Siberia, and give an
account thereof.

This expedition, organized through the munificence of James Gordon
Bennett, Jr., and known to the world as the Jeannette Expedition, was
commanded by De Long, then a lieutenant-commander of the United States
Navy.

George Washington De Long was born in New York City, March 22, 1844, and
entered the United States Navy, by graduation from the Naval Academy, in
1865. He rose to be a lieutenant-commander and rendered ordinary naval
service until 1873, when special duty fell to his lot which turned his
thoughts to Arctic research.

[Illustration: George Washington De Long.]

The rescue of the drift party of the Polaris naturally caused great
alarm as to the safety of the remainder of her crew, and with the
despatch of the Tigress into the waters of Smith Sound, came orders for
the Juniata, to which De Long was attached, to visit the coasts of
western Greenland for additional search for the missing explorers. The
Juniata proceeded to Upernivik, as far as it was deemed safe for the
man-of-war to venture, but its brave and sagacious commander, Captain D.
L. Braine, of the Navy, thought it most necessary to search the fast
inshore ice of Melville Bay, along which he correctly surmised they
would conduct a retreat by boats. For this duty--novel, hazardous, and
difficult--De Long promptly volunteered. For this dangerous trip the
steam-launch Little Juniata, some 32 feet long and 8 wide, was selected.
Her crew consisted of Lieutenant Chipp, Ensign May, ice-pilot Dodge, who
had served with Hayes, and four others, while she was equipped and
provisioned for sixty days. In this small craft De Long, following the
fast ice, reached a point immediately off Cape York, when he was struck
by a violent gale. The sea was so heavy that his only chance of safety
lay in carrying sail, steam being useless, to keep the boat under
control. The violence of the wind disrupted the inshore ice, threatening
the launch continually; owing to fog the presence of immense icebergs
made navigation more dangerous than ever; high seas constantly broke
over her, soaking everything on board and harassing the crew with the
imminent danger of swamping. Thirty hours the gale lasted, leaving the
party in the last stages of exhaustion, wet to the skin and benumbed
with cold, with closed floes to the north and east and the dangerous
"middle pack" to the west. Under these conditions De Long reluctantly
abandoned the search and returned.

This brief experience created an interest in northern work which never
abated, and as a result, De Long, the voyage ended, approached James
Gordon Bennett, Jr., who was favorable to his projects. Nothing,
however, was done until November, 1876, after the return of the Nares's
expedition, when the exploration was decided on; but no vessel could be
procured. Eventually Sir Allen Young, an Arctic explorer of note, was
persuaded to sell the Pandora, in which he had twice made polar voyages.

The ship was, by Act of Congress, given an American register under the
name of Jeannette, strengthened under naval supervision, and put in
commission under the orders and instructions of the Secretary of the
Navy, with full discipline in force; but the expense of the
expedition--repairs, equipment, and pay--was met by Bennett.

On July 8, 1879, the Jeannette sailed from San Francisco, commanded by
De Long, and officered by Lieutenant Chipp, Master Danenhower, Chief
Engineer Melville, Doctor Ambler, an ice-pilot, two scientists,
twenty-four petty officers and men. The route selected by De Long was
via Behring Strait, apparently under the impression that Wrangel Land
was continental in extent, an idea supported by the German geographer
Petermann, whose advice De Long had sought, and along the shores of
which coursed the northern current that swept forever out of the vision
of man such whalers as were fully beset by the ice-pack north of Asia.

Before pursuing his own exploration De Long, in compliance with
instructions from the Navy Department, made search for the Vega, in
which ship Nordenskiold, circumnavigating Europe and Asia, had wintered
at Cape Serdze Kamen, in 67 deg. 12' N. latitude, on the northwestern coast
of Asia. On reaching this point he learned that the Vega had comfortably
wintered and had passed south, thus confirming the report he had gained
from the natives at St. Lawrence Bay.

They at once steamed northward, thankful, as De Long records, "that
Nordenskiold was safe, and we might proceed on our way toward Wrangel
Land." Ice was soon fallen in with, and, after preliminary efforts to
proceed directly to the north, which impenetrable floes prevented, De
Long, on September 5, 1879, "got up a full head of steam and entered the
pack through the best-looking lead in the general direction of Herald
Island," which was plainly visible at a distance of forty miles.

It was De Long's intention on leaving San Francisco to explore this land
the first winter, but completely beset by heavy floes, in 71 deg. 35' N.
latitude, 175 deg. W. longitude, his ship never escaped. In hopes that
information of value might be had from a visit to Herald Island, an
unsuccessful attempt was made to reach it by dog-sledge over the
fast-cementing pack, but the party was turned back by impassable leads.

[Illustration: Herald Island.]

It soon became evident that the Jeannette was drifting steadily with the
entire pack. First, the direction was to the north, taking the ship out
of sight of Herald Island, but next it changed to the southwest,
bringing that land again in view. While the drift was by a devious and
very irregular course, yet it was in the general direction of northwest,
from 71 deg. 35' N., and 175 deg. W., at besetment, to 71 deg. 15' N., and 155 deg. E.,
when the ship was finally crushed by the pack. In investigating the
cause of the drift, De Long says: "As to the currents in this part of
the Arctic Ocean, I think our drift is demonstrating that they are the
local creation of the wind for the time being. As our drift in resulting
direction has been northwest since our besetment, so the greater amount
of wind has been from the southeast; our short and irregular side-drift
east and west, and occasionally to south, being due to correspondingly
short and irregular winds from northwest or east."

The party settled down to their regular life, which though very
monotonous soon had an element of excitement and danger introduced that
never passed away in entirety. This was the threatened disruption of the
pack, which, seemingly without cause, would change its form and position
with such suddenness and violence as to endanger the safety of the ship.
On November 13, 1879, without warning, the pack separated on a line with
the ship's keel, the port snow-wall being carried with the pack one
hundred and fifty feet away, leaving open water, that fortunately froze
over before other violent changes took place.

De Long writes: "This steady strain is fearful; seemingly we are not
secure for a moment.... Living over a powder-mill, waiting for an
explosion, would be a similar mode of existence.... I sleep with my
clothes on, and start up anxiously at every crack ... of the ship's
frame."

Almost by intervention of Providence, as it seemed, the Jeannette
escaped destruction from these violent disruptions, which, except that
of January 19, 1880, left her, during the first winter, comparatively
unharmed. On that day, with terrible groaning and grinding, the main
pack was fearfully agitated; no large openings were seen and the ice
acted as though its entire periphery was subjected to steady and
irresistible pressure, which being toward the centre caused the whole
surface to buckle up irregularly. Enormous pieces of ice piling up under
the stern of the Jeannette brought a tremendous longitudinal pressure on
the ship and broke her fore-foot, which caused a serious leak. It was
only through the indomitable energy and great professional skill of
Melville that the leak was got under control, and later cared for,
without taxing greatly their precious stock of fuel.

The winter passed with all in health save Danenhower, whose eyes
becoming diseased necessitated several operations and permanently placed
him off duty for the voyage. The summer of 1880 came, found them fast
embedded in the ice, and went without release. Autumn passed, winter
came, and even the opening year of 1881 found them with conditions
unchanged, as De Long recites: "A disabled and leaking ship, a seriously
sick officer, an uneasy and terrible pack, constantly diminishing
coal-pile and provisions, and far from the Siberian coast." A break
came, however, with the discovery of new land in May, along the north
coast of which the Jeannette drifted slowly. On May 31st a party was
sent to examine the island, for such it proved to be, Melville being in
command, as Chipp was then on the sick-list. Melville, despite the open
condition of the ice, succeeded in landing on June 3, 1881, his third
day out. He was obliged to carry his instruments and provisions, at the
risk of his life, through the moving pack. It proved to be a desolate,
ice-capped, rocky islet, almost destitute of vegetation and inhabited
only by dovekies, who nested in the inaccessible cliffs adjoining the
discharging glaciers. Another island appearing, De Long named the two;
Jeannette, in 76 deg. 47' N., 159 deg. E., and Henrietta, in 77 deg. 08' N., 158 deg. E.

The end of the besetment came at last. On June 12, 1881, in 77 deg. 15' N.,
155 deg. E., the pack showed signs of great pressure, the immense floes
seeming to be alive in their motion, and despite all efforts the
Jeannette was terribly nipped, her bows being thrown high in air. It was
evident that escape was hardly possible. Steps were immediately taken to
abandon ship, and everything of value or use was speedily withdrawn,
with boats, sledges, etc., to a safe distance. Early the next morning
the ice opened a little, and the Jeannette immediately sank, with colors
flying, in thirty-eight fathoms of water.

De Long and his party thus found themselves adrift in the Polar Sea,
more than three hundred miles from the nearest point of the mainland of
Asia, and about one hundred and fifty miles from the New Siberian
Islands. While the condition of affairs seemed desperate, De Long never
despaired. Lieutenant Danenhower being disabled, and Chipp sick, De
Long's main dependence was in his chief engineer, Melville, who was
well, strong, energetic, and fertile in expedients.

[Illustration: In the Pack.]

They had five boats (two very small), nine sleds, provisions for sixty
days, ammunition, instruments and records; a terrible load for the
party, as five men were off duty, and several others too weak to do
their share in the drag-ropes. There remained, however, twenty dogs,
whose utility was questionable, as they soon consumed more in weight
than they ever hauled. The ice was very rough, large openings were
frequent, snow often impeded progress, roads had to be made, and on
occasion all the stores and men had to be ferried across wide
water-lanes. At the beginning there was so much baggage that seven
separate loads were hauled, causing the men to travel thirteen times
over the same road, but this was soon unnecessary, as weights were
gradually reduced.

To add to De Long's discouragement he discovered that they were under
the influence of a northwest drift, and after six days' travel due south
were twenty-eight miles further north than when the ship sunk. He
refrained from discouraging the men by this information, but changing
his course to the southwest, got out of the drift.

On July 11th land was discovered, and turning toward it the shipwrecked
and exhausted men reached it July 28, 1881; it was in 76 deg. 38' N., 148 deg.
E., and was called Bennett Island. Landing was effected by ferrying and
crossing heavy, fast-moving floes, and the danger was greatly enhanced
by the low water, which made it extremely dangerous work to attain the
surface of the overhanging ice-foot. The cliffs were alive with birds,
which was a welcome change of diet, to the sick men especially. The
island was quite mountainous, with several grass-covered valleys; a seam
of coal was found and signs of considerable animal life.

[Illustration: Where the Bodies were Found.]

Recuperated by their nine days' rest, the party started south on August
8th, and landed on Thaddeus Island, of the New Siberian group, August
20, 1881. It is unnecessary to dwell on the dangers and hardships which
this unprecedented journey entailed on the members of this party, which
were met with fortitude, courage, and energy that made its successful
issue one of the most notable efforts in the history of man, overcoming
obstacles almost insurmountable.

This remarkable journey had been so far made alternately by sledge and
boat, owing to the broken condition of the Polar pack; from Thaddeus
Island, however, an open sea enabled them to proceed in boats, which
were respectively commanded by De Long, Chipp, and Melville. On
September 12th a severe storm separated the boats off the Lena Delta;
Chipp with eight men were lost, while Melville, with nine others,
reached a small village through one of the eastern mouths of the Lena.

De Long landed, in 77 deg. 15' N., 155 deg. E., September 17th, with Dr. Ambler
and twelve men, having been obliged to abandon his boat, owing to the
shallowness of the river. He took with him the ship's records, arms,
ammunition, medicines, necessary camp equipments, and four days'
provisions, which were carried on the men's shoulders. Fuel proved
abundant, and Alexey, their interpreter, killed two deer, thus improving
the situation. Retarded by the presence of sick men and by the weight of
cumbersome records, they followed slowly southward the barren shores of
the Lena, travelling through snow and over ice which broke readily.
Their feet were soon in terrible condition, and eventually an ulcer on
Ericksen's foot rendered partial amputation necessary on September 29th.
De Long then records the terrible situation: They were confronted by a
tributary of the Lena which must freeze before they could cross, and as
to Ericksen, if forced along, he could not recover, and "if I remained
here and kept everybody with me, Ericksen's days would be lengthened a
little at the risk of our all dying from starvation." Ice formed in a
couple of days, and they proceeded, dragging Ericksen on a sled.

October 3d, food entirely failing, their dog was killed and cooked,
giving them strength the following day to reach a deserted hut large
enough to hold the party. Here they were storm-stayed two days; Ericksen
dying, Alexey hunting unsuccessfully, the drifting snow and piercing
cold--all these served to plunge the party into despair. De Long writes:
"What, in God's name, is going to become of us?--fourteen pounds of dog
meat left and twenty-five miles to a possible settlement.... Read the
burial service and carried our departed shipmate's body to the river,
where he was buried." Their last food was eaten October 7th, and nothing
remained except old tea-leaves and two quarts of alcohol; but Alexey
shot a ptarmigan, of which a thin soup was made.

[Illustration: Noros and Nindermann.]

On October 9th the exhausted condition of some of the men and an open,
unfordable creek debarred further progress of the party as a whole. In
this contingency De Long sent Nindermann and Noros ahead for relief,
with orders to keep the west bank of the Lena until they reached a
settlement. Later De Long advanced a mile and camped in a hole in the
bank; Alexey killed four ptarmigans and the party resorted to their
deer-skin clothing for subsistence, but without avail. The last entry in
De Long's diary, October 30, 1881, records all dead except Collins, who
was dying, Ah Sam and Dr. Ambler, of whom no mention was made.

Noros and Nindermann, after a march of one hundred and twenty miles,
reached Bulcour, which they found deserted. Seeking shelter in one of
the vacant huts, they were discovered by a native, who took them to an
adjacent encampment. The natives either did not understand Nindermann or
were unwilling to go northward, for despite his incessant and urgent
entreaties they carried the two seamen southward to Bulun, where they
arrived on October 29th, and met Melville and his party.

This energetic officer, exhausting all practicable means, pushed his
relief parties northward to the extremity of the Lena Delta, but without
success. He reached the Arctic Ocean, recovered the log-books,
chronometer, and other articles on November 14th, when a severe storm
obliged him to abandon the search. Renewing his efforts, in March, 1882,
he discovered, on the 23d of that month, the bodies of his companions.

An official inquiry as to the general conduct of the expedition caused
the board of officers to express their opinion that the general
personnel were entitled to great praise for their solidarity and
cheerfulness, their constancy and endurance. The zeal, energy, and
professional aptitude of Melville were noticed, and special commendation
given to De Long for the high qualities displayed by him in the conduct
of the expedition.

The scientific observations of the Jeannette expedition must be of
considerable value, involving as they do hydrographic, magnetic, and
meteorological observations over an extended portion of the earth's
surface previously unknown, and it appears surprising that after all
these years they remain undiscussed.

[Illustration: Finding the Bodies.]

In addition may be noted the importance of De Long's hydrographic
contributions, covering some fifty thousand square miles of polar ocean,
which indicate with equal clearness the character of fifty thousand
other square miles of area to the south, and thus prove the Siberian
Arctic Ocean to be a shallow sea, dotted with islands.

The geographic results are represented in part by the attainment of the
highest latitude ever reached in Asiatic seas, and in the discovery of
Jeannette, Henrietta, and Bennett Islands. Discoveries, however, are
both direct and indirect, and to positive results should be added
successes of an inferential though negative character. Through De Long's
northwest drift the long-sought-for Wrangel Land shrank from its assumed
dimensions as a continent, connecting, under the Petermann hypothesis,
Asia with Greenland, to its reality--a small island.

It is to be said that this reduction of Wrangel Land into a little
island doomed De Long's expedition to certain failure and closed Behring
Strait as a promising route to high latitudes; for the arctic canon of
Parry yet obtains, that without a sheltering coast no vessel can hope to
navigate safely the Polar Ocean.

With the march of time it is not to be expected that geographic problems
connected with the vast ice-covered ocean to the north of Siberia will
be left unsolved. These coming explorers may be more fortunate than was
De Long, and while profiting by his experiences they will surpass his
efforts, yet their successes cannot make greater demands on the courage
and constancy of them and their subordinates than were shown by the
gallant De Long and his associates in the fateful voyage of the
Jeannette.




XIII.

PAUL BELLONI DU CHAILLU,

DISCOVERER OF THE DWARFS AND GORILLAS.


Among the thousands of vigorous and adventurous men whom chance brought
to light in foreign climes, but who by choice have cast their lot with
America, by becoming citizens of the United States, there are few whose
explorations and discoveries have excited more popular interest and
discussion than have those of Du Chaillu, the discoverer, in modern
times, of the dwarfs and the capturer of the gorilla.

[Illustration: Paul Belloni Du Chaillu.]

Born in Paris, July 31, 1835, the early environments of Paul Belloni Du
Chaillu fostered and forecast his taste for African exploration, for his
father was one of the adventurous Frenchmen whose consular appointment
and commercial enterprises led him to settle at the mouth of the Gaboon,
on the west coast of Africa, where his distinguished son passed his
boyhood. While young Du Chaillu was, doubtless, well grounded in
ordinary sciences by his instructors, the learned Jesuit fathers, of
Gaboon, yet apart from regular educational institutions he imbibed other
wealth of learning by observation of the rich tropical world around him,
and also through familiar intercourse with neighboring tribes
acquired a knowledge of native tongues and craft, of savage habits and
character, which insured his after-success in African exploration.

Commercial pursuits brought Du Chaillu to the United States, in 1852,
when he was so strongly impressed by American institutions that he
became a naturalized citizen of the United States.

Du Chaillu was brought prominently before the American public by a
series of striking and interesting articles on the Gaboon country, which
from their favorable reception strengthened his belief in the importance
of thoroughly exploring certain portions of the west coast of Africa.
The region selected for his investigations was under the burning sun of
the equator, somewhat to the north of the Congo country, in the basins
drained by the Muni, Ogowe, and Rembo Rivers, which, owing to difficulty
of access, extreme heat, prevailing fevers, and deadly climate, were
practically unknown. Between 1856 and 1859 Du Chaillu journeyed upward
of eight thousand miles through this country, travelling on foot, with
no white companion, and, with the aid of natives, cursorily explored
nearly one hundred thousand square miles of virgin territory. Working
with the ardent zeal of a naturalist, his enormous ornithological
collection aggregated thousands of specimens, and in this collection
alone he added some sixty new species of birds to the domain of science.
Among the quadrupeds, he discovered no less than twenty new species, and
among the most important animals brought to light were the very
remarkable nest-building ape, with its unknown and its almost equally
extraordinary brother the koo-loo-lamba, and his observations of the
almost unknown gorilla were most interesting and valuable.

In ethnology he accumulated a number of invaluable native arms and
implements, which now adorn the British Museum. Space fails in which to
recite his intense sufferings, during these explorations, from
semi-starvation, the wild beasts of the dense forests, the venomous
reptiles of the river valleys, the attacks of ferocious ants, and other
intolerable poisonous insects which infest the interior.

There are many interesting accounts of curious quadrupeds in Du
Chaillu's book, "Adventures in Equatorial Africa," but none appeals more
strongly to most readers than that of the gorilla. Traditions from
antiquity, the relation of Hanno, the Carthaginian navigator of 350
B.C., set forth the existence of such an animal, but no white man had
ever seen a gorilla, except Andrew Battell, early in the seventeenth
century. Nearly ten years before the explorations of Du Chaillu the
gorilla had been, however, brought to the notice of naturalists by Dr.
Savage, of Boston, who had received a skull from the Rev. J. L. Wilson,
an American missionary on the Gaboon.

From boyhood up Du Chaillu had heard from the natives of Gaboon fearful
stories of the cunning, strength, and ferocity of this ape, which is
the most dreaded animal on the west coast of Africa. For years he had
longed for an opportunity to hunt the gorilla, and when he first saw its
tracks, which threw his native hunters into alarm, he relates that his
sensations were indescribable, his feelings so intense as to be painful,
and his heart-throbs so violent that he actually feared the animal would
be alarmed by them.

Du Chaillu chronicles the end of his first successful hunt as follows:

"Before us stood an immense male gorilla. He had gone through the jungle
on his all-fours; but when he saw our party he erected himself and
looked us boldly in the face. He stood about a dozen yards from us, and
was a sight, I think, never to forget. Nearly six feet high (he proved
two inches shorter), with immense body, huge chest, and great muscular
arms; with fiercely glaring, large, deep-gray eyes, and a hellish
expression of face, which seemed to me like some nightmare vision, thus
stood before us this king of the African forests. He was not afraid of
us. He stood there and beat his breast with his huge fists till it
resounded like an immense bass-drum--which is their mode of offering
defiance--meantime giving vent to roar after roar. The roar of the
gorilla is the most singular and awful noise heard in these African
woods. It begins with a sharp bark, like an angry dog, then glides into
a deep bass roll, which literally and closely resembles the roll of
distant thunder along the sky, for which I have sometimes been tempted
to take it where I did not see the animal. So deep is it that it seems
to proceed less from the mouth and throat than from the deep chest and
vast paunch. He again sent forth a thunderous roar, and now truly he
reminded me of nothing but some hellish dream-creature--a being of that
hideous order, half-man half-beast, which we find pictured by old
artists in some representations of the infernal regions."

[Illustration: The Gorilla. (_Troglodytes Gorilla._)]

The explorer relates that flying gorillas so resembled men running for
their lives, and their discordant cries seemed so human, that he felt
almost like a murderer as he shot them.

Having obtained a number of specimens, he now used his utmost endeavors
to obtain an ape alive, and speaks of his success as "one of the
greatest pleasures of my life;" to his great grief, however, the
intractable and savage brute soon died. Regarding it, Du Chaillu writes:

"Some hunters who had been out on my account brought in a young gorilla
alive. I cannot describe the emotions with which I saw the struggling
little brute dragged into the village. All the hardships I had endured
in Africa were rewarded in that moment. It was a little fellow of
between two and three years old, two feet six inches in height, and as
fierce and stubborn as a grown animal could have been."

Several were captured from time to time, but all died after short
confinement. Every effort to subdue their ferocity, whether by force or
by persistent kindness, utterly failed; they were never other than
morose, bellicose, and treacherous.

Another very interesting animal is the nest-building ape, a before
unknown species, which was discovered by our explorer almost by
accident. Du Chaillu says:

"As I was trudging along, rather tired of the sport, I happened to look
up at a high tree which we were passing, and saw a most singular-looking
shelter built in its branches. I asked Aboko whether the hunters here
had this way to sleep in the woods, but was told, to my surprise, that
this very ingenious nest was built by the _nshiego mbouve_, an ape. The
material is leafy branches with which to make the roof, and vines to tie
these branches to the tree. The tying is done so neatly, and the roof is
so well constructed that, until I saw the nshiego actually occupying his
habitation I could scarce persuade myself that human hands had not built
all. It sheds rain perfectly, being neatly rounded on top for this
purpose. The material being collected, the male goes up and builds the
nest, while the female brings him the branches and vines."

Yet another member of the ape family, discovered by our explorer,
deserves passing notice in his own words:

"The koo-loo-lamba has for distinctive marks a very round head; whiskers
running quite around the face and below the chin; the face is round; the
cheek-bones prominent; the cheeks sunken; the jaws are not very
prominent--less so than in any of the apes; the hair is black, long on
the arm, which was, however, partly bare. This ape, whose singular cry
distinguishes it at once from all its congeners in these wilds, is
remarkable as bearing a closer general resemblance to man than any other
ape yet known. It was very rare, and I was able to obtain but one
specimen of it. This is smaller than the adult male gorilla, and stouter
than the female gorilla. The head is its most remarkable point. This
struck me at once as having an expression curiously like an Esquimau or
Chinaman."

Among the worst pests of Africa are ants, especially the bashikouay,
which travel in a line about two inches wide and often miles in length.
Du Chaillu says: "They devour and attack all with irresistible fury. The
elephant and gorilla fly, the black men run for their lives. In an
incredibly short time a leopard or deer is overwhelmed, killed, and
eaten. They seem to travel day and night. Often have I been awakened out
of sleep and obliged to rush from my hut and into the water to save my
life. A bashikouay army makes a clean sweep, even ascending to the tops
of the highest trees in pursuit of their prey."

The results of his four years of research in the interests of
ethnography, geography, and natural history, were placed before the
public in a valuable work entitled "Explorations and Adventures in
Equatorial Africa." The book gave rise to bitter, harsh, unjust
criticisms, and engendered endless discussions. Du Chaillu's journey to
the interior was entirely discredited, and his accounts of the animals
and natives were characterized as mere fabrications. Discoveries
necessarily develop discrepancies between the realities brought to light
and existing beliefs produced through inference or imagination; then, as
has many another discover in science or geography, Du Chaillu learned
how slow is the willingness of a jealous mind to relinquish its favorite
error for a conflicting truth.

Justification came speedily, for the explorations of Serval and Bellay,
of the very next year, proved the accuracy of Du Chaillu's account of
the great Ogowe River, and indicated the general correctness of his map
of the Ashira country. Burton confirmed his reports regarding the
cannibalistic habits of the Fans, and other statements were speedily
corroborated.

Stung to the quick by the adverse criticisms, Du Chaillu, although
suffering from the effects of fevers contracted in his long residence in
Western Africa, determined to repeat the journey with such precautions
regarding his observations as would be absolutely convincing as to their
truthfulness; especially he determined to capture and bring to Europe a
living gorilla. To ensure accuracy he went through a course of
instruction in the use of instruments, learning to make, test, and
reduce astronomical and hypsometrical observations, and acquired
proficiency in the then difficult art of photography. As regards
geographical explorations he had a vague hope that he might reach from
the west coast of Africa some unknown tributary of the Nile, down which
he might be able to reach the main river and the Mediterranean Sea.

Leaving England in August, 1863, Du Chaillu's first destination was the
mouth of Fernand Vaz River, about one hundred and ten miles south of the
Gaboon, this point being selected both because he knew the natives and
also because that river valley being unknown afforded him virgin ground
from the beginning of his journey.

In landing through the terrible surf that makes entrance into the
Fernand Vaz so dangerous, Du Chaillu was nearly drowned and all his
astronomical instruments and medicines were lost or damaged. This
necessitated his delay in that region until other instruments could be
had from England; but the time was not lost, for he had ample
opportunity of further studying the habits of the gorillas, which abound
there; fortunately he captured four, an adult and three young, one of
which he shipped alive to London, but it died during the voyage.

[Illustration: A Village of Dwarfs.]

Du Chaillu started on his journey with ten Commi <DW64>s, previous
servitors, as his body-guard, and fifty porters in place of the hundred
needed, thus making double trips necessary for a while. Following up
the Fernand Vaz River to its tributary, the Rembo, he left this latter
stream at Obindshi and travelled southeasterly to Olenda. Here a council
was held by the local chief, who forbade him to enter the Apingi
country, but allowed him to proceed to the Ashira region, where he was
long delayed and robbed by the natives. In crossing the Ngunie River, on
his way eastward to the Ishogo country, he was surprised to obtain
ferriage in a large, flat-bottomed canoe, which carried baggage and
party across in seven journeys.

Near the end of June, while traversing a tract of wild forest near
Yangue, Du Chaillu came suddenly upon a cluster of most extraordinary
and diminutive huts, which he was told were occupied by a tribe of dwarf
<DW64>s. In his previous journey in the Apingi country he had given no
credence to exaggerated descriptions and reports that had often come to
his ears concerning dwarf tribes, assuming the stories to be fables.
Now, however, with these curious huts before him he pressed on eager to
obtain personal information concerning these little folks, whose
existence had been vouched for centuries before by Pomponius Mela,
Herodotus, and Strabo, and who were described in a fairly accurate way,
by Andrew Battell, in 1625. In answer to Du Chaillu's inquiries the
natives said that there were many such villages in the adjacent forests,
and that the tiny men were called the Obongos.

He found the huts entirely deserted, but from scattered traces of recent
household effects, it was quite evident that the Obongos, alarmed at the
approach of strangers, had fled for safety to the dense jungle of the
neighboring forest. He thus describes their habitations: "The huts were
of a low, oval shape, like a gypsy tent; the highest part, that near the
entrance, was about four feet from the ground; the greatest breadth was
about four feet also. On each side were three or four sticks for the man
and woman to sleep on. The huts were made of flexible branches of trees,
arched over and fixed into the ground at each end, the longest branches
being in the middle, and the others successively shorter, the whole
being covered with heavy leaves."

On June 26, 1864, Du Chaillu entered Niembouai, a large village in
Ashango Land, in the vicinity of which, he learned with great joy, was
situated an inhabited encampment of the Obongos, or hairy dwarfs, as he
terms them. The Ashango natives offered to accompany him, at the same
time intimating that it was likely the village would be found deserted;
for, said they, the Obongos (the dwarfs) are shy and timid as the
gazelle, and as wild as the antelope. To see them, you must take them by
surprise. They are like to the beasts of the field. They feed on the
serpents, rats, and mice, and on the berries and nuts of the forest.

[Illustration: A Pigmy Warrior.]

Du Chaillu made his first visit to an Obongo encampment with three
Ashango guides, and with great precaution they silently entered a
village of twelve huts to find it long since deserted. Fortune was more
favorable at the second village, where, however, no one was to be seen
on entrance. The curling smoke, calabashes of fresh water, and a
half-cooked snake on living coals indicated that the alarmed inhabitants
had fled on their approach. A search of the huts resulted in disclosing
the presence of three old women, a young man, and several children, who
were almost paralyzed with fear at the sight of an unknown monster--a
white man. By judicious distribution of bananas, and especially of
beads, Du Chaillu succeeded in allaying their fears, and later made
several visits, but confidence was never firmly established, and it was
impossible to see the men except as they fled at his approach, or at a
distance when they visited the Ashango village for purposes of barter.

During his several visits he carefully measured six dwarf women, whose
average height proved to be four feet six and one-eighth inches; the
shortest was four feet four and one-half inches, and the tallest five
feet and one-quarter of an inch; the young man, possibly not full grown,
measured four feet six inches in height.

Du Chaillu says: "The color of these people was a dirty yellow, and
their eyes had an untamable wildness that struck me as very remarkable.
In appearance, physique, and color they are totally unlike the Ashangos,
who are very anxious to disown kinship with them. They declare that the
Obongos intermarry among themselves, sisters with brothers. The
smallness and isolation of their communities must necessitate close
interbreeding; and I think it very possible this may cause the physical
deterioration of their race."

Their foreheads were very low and narrow, cheek-bones prominent, legs
proportionately short, palms of hands quite white, and their hair short,
curly tufts, resembling little balls of wool, which, according to the
young man seen by Du Chaillu, grew also, in plentiful, short, curly
tufts on his legs and breast, a peculiarity which the Ashangos declared
was common to the Obongo men.

These dwarfs feed partly on roots, berries, and nuts gathered in the
forest, and partly on flesh and fish. They are very expert in capturing
wild animals by traps and pitfalls, and in obtaining fish from the
streams; and the surplus of flesh is exchanged for plantains and such
simple manufactured articles as they stand in need of.

Concerning their settlements and range of migration Du Chaillu adds:
"The Obongos never remain long in one place. They are eminently a
migratory people, moving whenever game becomes scarce, but they do not
wander very far. These Obongos are called the Obongos of the Ashangos;
those who live among the Njavi are called Obongo-Njavi, and the same
with other tribes. Obongos are said to exist very far to the east, as
far as the Ashangos have any knowledge."

In his "Journey to Ashango Land" Du Chaillu gives quite a number of
words of the Obongo language; he considers their dialect to be a mixture
of their original language with that of the tribe among whom they
reside. It appeared that none of the dwarf women could count more than
ten, probably the limit of their numerals. Their weapons of offence and
defence were usually small bows and arrows, the latter at times
poisoned.

[Illustration: A Dwarf Prisoner.]

Leaving Mobano, 1 deg. 53' S. latitude, and about 12 deg. 27' E. longitude, by
dead reckoning, Du Chaillu passed due east to the village of Mouaou
Kombo, where, by accident, while firing a salute, one of his body-guard
unfortunately killed a villager. An effort to atone for the accident by
presents would doubtless have been successful, but, most unfortunately,
and despite Du Chaillu's strict orders, his body-guards and porters had
already irritated the Ashangos by offensive conduct. Overtures for
"blood-money" were interrupted by an offended chief denouncing the
exploring party. Almost instantly the natives commenced beating their
war-drums, and Du Chaillu, realizing the danger and loading his men with
his most valuable articles, retreated westward toward the coast. Before
they reached the forest he and one of his men were wounded by poisoned
arrows. Pursued by the infuriated savages Du Chaillu restrained his men
from shooting, when, demoralized by the situation, many of his porters
threw away their loads, which consisted of note-books, maps,
instruments, photographs, and natural history collections. Curiously
enough the instruments and goods thus abandoned by Du Chaillu in 1864,
were found in 1891, by an African trader, in the jungle where they had
been thrown down by the retreating carriers, having remained all these
years untouched by the Ashangos, who believed they were fetich and so
regarded them with superstitious dread.

After retreating a few miles and finding that inactivity and
self-restraint meant self-destruction, Du Chaillu took the offensive,
and drawing up his men in a favorable position, repelled his pursuers
with considerable loss. The wounds from poisoned arrows being external,
if subjected to immediate treatment, healed in a few weeks.

Further explorations under these circumstances were impossible, for Du
Chaillu depended entirely for his success on friendly relations with
the natives; in consequence he returned to the sea-coast, and on
September 27, 1865, quitted the shores of Western Equatorial Africa.

Although the second voyage of Du Chaillu into the unknown regions of
Western Equatorial Africa rehabilitated his reputation as a reliable
observer, as far as related to geography and natural history, yet his
description of the Obongo dwarfs gave rise to further discussion and
aspersions. It is needless to say that the discoveries of Stanley in his
last African expedition have definitely settled this question in Du
Chaillu's favor, and that the studies of Lenz, Marche, and Bastian, in
and near the region visited by Du Chaillu, confirm the accuracy of his
descriptions. Indeed the Obongos of Ashango Land rise in proportion to
undersized <DW64>s when compared with the dwarf queen found by Stanley
on the eastern edge of the great equatorial forest, who measures only
two feet nine inches in height.

Thus in time has come complete vindication of all of Du Chaillu's
statements as to the wonders of the Ashira and Ashango Lands, which
portions of Western Equatorial Africa he was the first to explore. If
the geographical extent of his explorations give way to that of other
African travellers, yet it must be admitted that he stands scarcely
second to any in the number, importance, and interest of his
contributions and collections in connection with ethnography and natural
history of Equatorial Africa.

In later years Du Chaillu has devoted his attention to the northern
parts of Sweden, Norway, Lapland, and Finland, and although his travels
in these regions had no important geographical outcome, yet they
resulted in lately placing the general public in possession of many
interesting details of these countries, as given in his book called "The
Land of the Midnight Sun." His important work, "The Viking Age," is an
elaborate presentation of his theory that the ancestors of the
English-speaking races were Vikings and not Anglo-Saxons, and has
awakened much comment in the scientific world. "Ivar the Viking," his
latest book, is a popular account of Viking life and manners in the
third and fourth centuries.

[Illustration: Arrows of the African Pigmies.]




XIV.

STANLEY AFRICANUS AND THE CONGO FREE STATE.


[Illustration: Henry M. Stanley.]

The largest, the richest, and the least known of the great continents is
Africa. Despite its vast area, numerous tribes, and complicated
interests it may be said that its potential influences as regards the
rest of the world have been alternately retarded and advanced through
the efforts of four individuals. The jealousy of Rome, excited to its
highest pitch by the eloquence of the elder Cato, resulted, 146 B.C., in
the annihilation of Carthage, an industrial centre whence for five
centuries had radiated toward the interior of Africa peaceful and
commercial influences. Eight centuries later the hordes of the Arabian
Caliph Omar in turn overwhelmed the Roman colony at Alexandria,
destroying forever its literary influence by the burning of its great
library.

Conversely the missionary labors of David Livingstone, from 1849 to
1873, inculcated peaceful methods and cultivated moral tendencies
destined to introduce Christianity and develop civilization. Not only
did Livingstone, in the eloquent words of Stanley, "weave by his
journeys the figure of his Redeemer's cross on the map of Africa, but,
scattering ever his Master's words and patterning his life after the
Master stamped the story of the cross on the hearts of every African
tribe he visited."

Initiating routes of travel, suggesting new commercial fields, and
organizing stable forms of government, came a man of harder metal, of
indomitable will and courage, Henry M. Stanley, who merits the title of
Stanley Africanus.

A Welshman by nativity, born near Denbigh, in 1840, he came to the
United States at the age of sixteen and thenceforth cast his lot with
America, and as a citizen of this country made his explorations under
its flag. It is reputed that he exchanged his natal name of Rowlands for
that of Henry M. Stanley, for a merchant of New Orleans who adopted him;
but in any event his early life was passed without the loving and
modifying influences of a home, his youth almost equally destitute of
those adventitious surroundings that properly mould the character and
insure opportunities for success to young men. Thus he stands forth a
self-made man to whom strength has been accorded to develop the manhood
that God implanted in his soul.

Stern experiences in the American civil war, brief life in the far West,
and special service in Turkey had shaped Stanley into a reliant,
self-contained man when his first African journey came to him, in 1868,
through assignment as newspaper correspondent to accompany the British
army in its invasion of Abyssinia. He participated in this wonderful
campaign, which led him four hundred miles through a country of
indescribable wildness and grandeur, across rugged mountains, along deep
valleys, up to the fortress-crowned crest of Magdala, ten thousand feet
above the sea.

Difficult as were the mountains of Abyssinia, they were less dangerous
than the African region later to be traversed by him; a journey
unsought, but which came to him as the fittest man for the time and
service.

A telegram and five hours' preparation carried Stanley from the
blood-red fields of revolutionary Spain into the famous search journey
that gave to an anxious world news of the long-lost Livingstone. For
twenty years this great Scotch missionary had carried the gospel of
Christ and its civilizing influences from one end of Africa to the
other; once he had crossed the continent in its greatest breadth, and
now, vanished from the sight of the civilized world in his renewed
missionary labors, for two years his very existence had been
problematical.

[Illustration: The Hut where Livingstone Died.]

The search expedition owed its inception and maintenance to James Gordon
Bennett, Jr., whose brief orders to Stanley were: "Find Livingstone and
bring news of his discoveries or proofs of his death, regardless of
expense." The personnel, methods, and arrangements devolved entirely on
Stanley, but his preliminary route was to lie through certain countries.
It thus occurred that between Madrid, his starting point, and Ujiji, on
Lake Tanganyika, the camp of Livingstone, he saw the gayties of Paris;
was present at the eventful opening of the Suez Canal that
revolutionized Eastern commerce; ascended the Lower Nile to scrutinize
with interested eye Baker's prospective expedition to the Soudan;
divined under the mosques of the Bosphorus the political riddles of
Sultan and Khedive; examined the uncovered foundations of Solomon's
Temple in the Holy City; meditated over the historic battle-grounds of
the Crimea; penetrated the Caucasus to Tiflis for news of the Russian
expedition to Khiva; and, traversing Persia through the Euphratan cradle
of the human race, entered India, whence his route lay to Zanzibar and
the dark beyond. What a contrast those preliminary journeys afforded,
across effete countries whose varying and recorded phases of
civilization are contemporaneous with the history of the human race, to
the threshold of a vast region whose barbaric freshness is such that its
entire history lies within the memory of living man.

Stanley landed at Zanzibar, January 10, 1871, and, fortunately, was at
once impressed with his ignorance of outfitting, which he thought he had
learned from books. Resorting to the Arab traders he proved such an apt
pupil and skilful organizer that he enlisted twenty-seven soldiers,
gathered one hundred and fifty-seven carriers and five special
employees, which, with two white assistants, Farquhar and Shaw, made his
aggregate force one hundred and ninety-two. He had his African
money--beads as copper coins, cloth as silver, and brass rods as gold;
canvas-covered boats for navigation; asses and horses for special work;
fine cloth for tribute to local chiefs, which, with tentage, medicine,
etc., made some six tons of freight.

March 21, 1871, the rear guard marched out of Bagamoyo, the town on the
mainland opposite Zanzibar, and taking a route never before travelled by
a white man, Stanley reached Simbamwenni in fourteen marches, the
journey of one hundred and nineteen miles having occupied twenty-nine
days, during which the commander came to fully realize the difficulty of
his undertaking, the inefficiency of unpractised subordinates, and the
uncertain loyalty of carriers.

The onward march resembled all in Africa: thorns and jungle to wound the
naked carriers, rivers to be forded or crossed on almost impracticable
bridges, swamps many miles in length and so miry as to tax the utmost
strength and energy of man and ass, insolence and exactions of local
potentates, thefts by natives, desertions of carriers, the oft-recurring
fever, and occasionally a death.

The 20th of May, Stanley was at Mpwapwa (Mbambwa), delighted physically
at its fair aspect and upland picturesqueness, but mentally anxious over
Farquhar, whom he left here sick, and the loss of his asses, which he
fortunately was able to replace by twelve carriers. He reached, on June
22d, Unyanyembe, after a devious journey of five hundred and twenty
miles to cover an air-line distance of one hundred and fifty. Here had
just arrived a relief caravan for Livingstone, which had left Zanzibar
four months prior to Stanley's. Near by, at Tabora, the chief Arabian
town of central Africa, Stanley was surprised to find the Arabs at war
with a savage chief, Mirambo, thus barring the usually travelled road to
Ujiji.

Here Stanley lost three months, and participated in an unsuccessful
campaign with the Arabs against Mirambo, vainly hoping that thus his
road would be opened. Five of his men were killed in the war, others
deserted, so that only eleven carriers remained, and altogether his
prospects of success steadily diminished.

[Illustration: Map showing Position and Boundaries of the Congo State.]

Despairing of the old route, Stanley, having with great difficulty
recruited his force of carriers, decided to try a circuitous trail to
the south in order to reach Ujiji, which lay to the northwest. Failure
and destruction were predicted, but with confidence in himself Stanley,
on September 20th, marched on with Shaw and fifty-six others. Illness
caused him to soon send back Shaw, his only white companion; frequent
desertions weakened his force; an incipient mutiny of his panic-stricken
men on the Gombe River threatened complete destruction to the party;
insolent chiefs exacted extortionate tribute; desert marches without
water and scant food discouraged and weakened the men; but the leader
pushed on with unflagging energy despite every obstacle. His route lay
through Igonda, Itende, the beautiful country of Uvinsa, across rocky
Uhha to the Malagarazi River, where his heart was gladdened by rumors
from the natives that a white man had lately arrived at Ujiji from
Manyuema.

Pushing on with feverish haste, on November 9, 1871, he had the
indescribable joy of looking down on magnificent Lake Tanganyika, and on
the following day, with his gigantic guide, Asmani, proudly striding in
advance with the Stars and Stripes as his standard, Stanley marched into
Ujiji, and there accomplished his mission by meeting Livingstone and
ascertaining the results of his late labors. Livingstone's primary
mission--the suppression of the slave trade by means of civilizing
influences--had not materially progressed, but he had strong hopes of
the future. Geographically, however, he had been most successful, having
made important discoveries in the water-sheds of Lakes Tanganyika and
the Nyanzas, and found an unknown river, the Lualaba, which in a later
exploration Stanley proved to be the Upper Congo.

Stanley found Livingstone with only five carriers and without means of
trade. Supplying all deficiencies from his own stores, he assisted
Livingstone in his exploration of Lake Tanganyika, and the twain
returned together to Unyanyembe. In the meantime both Farquhar and Shaw
died, and Stanley, turning over his surplus stores to Livingstone, bade
him farewell and Godspeed, and started for Zanzibar. On March 14, 1872,
eight weeks later, Stanley was again enjoying civilization at Bagamoyo,
while Livingstone was awaiting means of returning to his life-task, soon
to be ended by his death among the tribes he loved, for "Greater love
hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."

Over four months of intercourse with Livingstone steadily increased
Stanley's admiration for this great man. He describes him as a
high-spirited, brave, impetuous, and enthusiastic man, with these
qualities so tempered by his deep, abiding spirit of religion as to make
him a most extraordinary character. In all his relations with his
servants, with the natives, and with Mohammedans, Christianity appeared
in its loveliest and most potent forms, constant, sincere, charitable,
loving, modest, and always practical. It was this abiding faith in God
which made Livingstone a man of unfailing devotion to his sense of
present duty, of wondrous patience, unvarying gentleness, constant
hopefulness, and unwearied fidelity--qualities which made his missionary
work in Africa unprecedentedly successful.

Abuse, misrepresentation, and incredulity from geographic societies,
critics, and press greeted Stanley's account of his discovery of
Livingstone, and only gradually did his traducers yield to the
convincing evidences of his astonishing success.

Turning to his old work, Stanley, in the winter of 1873-74, again
entered Africa, accompanying as newspaper correspondent the British
army, which invaded to a distance of one hundred and forty miles the
deadly marshes of the Ashantee Kingdom, and destroyed its capital city,
Coomassie.

When the death of Livingstone brought Africa into prominence again,
Stanley, believing he could complete so much of the missionary's work as
concerned exploration, turned thither at the head of an expedition under
the auspices of the London _Telegraph_ and the New York _Herald_, the
object being the survey of the lacustrine system at the head of the
White Nile and a journey thence westward across the continent.

Leaving Bagamoyo, November 17, 1874, Stanley reached Lake Victoria
Nyanza in March, 1875, his journey of seven hundred and twenty miles
being marked by pestilential fevers, struggles through thorny jungles,
and scant food and water. Circumnavigating the lake, he found it to be
over four thousand feet above the ocean, while its proportions--nearly
twenty-two thousand miles in area and in places over five hundred feet
deep--assumed those of an inland sea. Here Mtesa, a powerful and able
<DW64> king, of Mohammedan faith, proved most friendly and greatly aided
him, furnishing an escort, which enabled Stanley to explore a part of
the adjacent mountain region. From Ujiji he then explored Lake
Tanganyika, finding it to be about half the size of Victoria, with an
elevation of about twenty-seven hundred feet.

[Illustration: Tippu-Tib.]

Important as were these discoveries they paled before others, made in
following the Lualaba River of Livingstone, which changed the map of
Central Africa and altered the destiny of that vast and untraversed
region. The journey to Nyangwe, Livingstone's "farthest," entailed
horrible hardships on the carriers. This Arab village was reached via
the Luama, which, of hitherto unknown course, was found by Stanley to
be an affluent of the Lualaba. At Nyangwe Stanley felt that his
accomplished journey of over eight hundred miles from the east coast
promised well for his coming voyage to a known point on the other coast,
nine hundred miles due west. He made an agreement with an Arab,
Tippu-Tib, trader in human flesh or ivory as chance offered, to escort
the expedition about six hundred miles west through the unknown regions.
The country proved to be primeval forest, almost trackless, its tropical
undergrowth a veritable jungle of thorns and vines. Game was scanty and
other food equally so. Finally, progress was so slow and the path so
devious that Stanley, yielding to his appeals, discharged Tippu-Tib and
decided to descend the river by canoes and his frame boat. He embarked
at Vinya Njara, with one hundred and fifty in his party, on December 28,
1876, intrusting himself with sublime audacity to a river flowing no one
knew whither, save it was away from civilization, and with the knowledge
that the country they were entering was peopled by tribes entirely
hostile and intractable, as the slave-traders said. Day after day they
drifted steadily to the north. Was it or was it not the Nile of
Livingstone's prediction? Then day by day the course trended to the
east. Yes, it could only be the Nile. After two hundred and forty miles
the trend was to the northwest, whither, week after week, for about
three hundred miles it kept its puzzling flow toward a point of the
compass where it could join no river known to man. It had, too, assumed
proportions and volume truly Amazonic, filled with islands and swollen
from one to seven miles in width. All efforts to gain a knowledge of its
final course were then fruitless, for the few barbarous natives they
could win to speech answered in uncouth jargon, scarcely intelligible to
the interpreters: "It is the river--the river!" The terrors of the
silent stream in its majestic solitude were almost preferable to the
presence of populous villages, which here and there lined its banks, for
the inhabitants, ferociously hostile for the greater part, refused trade
and boldly assaulted them. Skilful canoemen and good archers, the
savages slaughtered unwary stragglers, harassed the rear and attacked
the front, while their horrible threats that the bodies of the slain
should serve as food at their cannibalistic repasts instilled terror in
the minds of many of Stanley's followers. Skirmishes were frequent, and
now and then a severe fight which taxed Stanley's forces to the utmost.
Again the river had here and there series of cataracts which caused no
end of trouble, delay, and danger to the party, nine men being drowned
in one day.

Fortunately the river had turned to the south, and then to southwest,
where, after another thousand miles, it flowed through a narrow gorge,
one hundred and fifty miles from the sea, so that no doubt longer
obtained as to it being the Congo. The terrible falls near the gorge
entailed enormous labor to pass them, and barely failed of destroying
the party. In all twenty-eight cataracts were passed, and finally the
river became so precipitous, the falls so high, that they had to abandon
their boats and march overland to Boma, an English trading-post, five
days' journey distant. Fatigue, famine, and exposure further enfeebled
them and now made daily inroads among the ranks of those who had so far
survived, and the entire party would have perished on the very threshold
of civilization and plenty had not Stanley's messengers, sent on with
urgent appeals, obtained help at Boma, where the expeditionary force
arrived August 12, 1877. They had made a river journey of seven thousand
miles, proved the Congo to be second only to the Nile, and crossed
Africa.

When Stanley, in 1877, intrusting his life and fortunes to a mighty and
unknown stream, voyaged toward the very heart of the Dark Continent,
even his wildest dreams could not have foreshadowed results equal to the
reality of a near future. His voyage in its potentiality was second only
to that of Columbus, as the outcome of the succeeding five years plainly
indicates. All Europe, alive to the commercial importance of the Congo
Basin, hastened to reach its borders or encroach on its limits by means
of enlarged dependent colonies; commerce and religion, hand in hand,
traversed its rivers by steam and lined its banks with beneficent
settlements, while the merciless Arab devastated its villages and
dragged its decimated natives into slavery. Then came a political
wonder--the peaceful creation of a vast tropical empire more than a
million square miles in area, the Congo Free State, erected and admitted
into the community of nations by act of an international conference, in
which participated fourteen European powers and the United States, our
own country being fittingly the first to officially acknowledge the
existence of the new state its adventurous citizen had given to the
world.

[Illustration: Emin Pasha.]

The voyage through the Dark Continent was obviously potent of future
results, and Gambetta, in 1878, clearly forecast the effects of
Stanley's journey. The great French statesman said: "Not only have you
opened up a new continent to our view, but you have given influence to
scientific and philanthropic enterprises which will have its effect on
the progress of the world. What you have done has interested
governments--proverbially so difficult to move--and the impulse you have
imparted, I am convinced, will go on year after year."

Slowly recovering from the effects of famine and fatigue incident to
this arduous journey, Stanley returned to Europe in January, 1878, and
was met, as he stepped out of the express train at Marseilles, by two
commissioners of King Leopold of Belgium, who informed him that his
Majesty contemplated a new enterprise in Africa and desired his
assistance. While heartily indorsing the proposed work of Leopold his
physical condition was such that active co-operation was impossible, and
he was even unable to visit his Majesty. Five months later, with
physical energies renewed, after a visit to Leopold, Stanley eventually
agreed to the proposition which contemplated the establishment of a
grand commercial enterprise for controlling the trade of the valley of
the Congo. It involved the erection of commercial and military stations
along the overland route and the establishment of steam communication
wherever available. In short, a colony of Europeans was to be founded in
the Congo Basin, whose great fertility, healthy climate, and enormous
population seemed to especially favor the development of African
civilization. The action of Leopold evidently grew out of Stanley's
declarations that "the question of this mighty waterway (the Congo) will
become a political one in time," and his conviction that any power
possessing the Congo would absorb the whole enormous trade behind, as
this river was and must continue to be, the grand commercial highway of
West and Central Africa.

Stanley accepted the mission, visited Zanzibar, where he enlisted
sixty-eight Zanzibari, mostly his old soldiers, and by sea reached
Banana Point, on the west coast, August 14, 1879. Two years previous he
had reached this place after descending the newly discovered Congo; now
he was re-entering its fertile basin in order to establish civilized
settlements, with the intention of subduing Central Africa by peaceful
ways and to remould it into harmony with modern ideas, so that justice
and order should ever obtain, violence and the slave trade forever
cease.

[Illustration: Finding Nelson in Distress at Starvation Camp.]

He returned to Europe in 1882, his success far exceeding the
expectations of the committee. In this time, with the aid of sixty-eight
Zanzibari and a few Europeans, he had constructed three
trading-stations, launched a steamer on the Upper Congo, established
steam communication between Leopoldville and Stanley Pool, and also
constructed wagon-roads between Vivi and Isangila, Manyanga and Stanley
Pool. He pointed out to the committee the imperative necessity of a
railroad between the Lower and Upper Congo in order to preserve
uninterrupted communication, which scheme was approved by the committee
provided Stanley would take charge of the work. Although his health was
impaired, he agreed to return to the Congo and complete the
establishment of stations as far as Stanley Falls, which he duly
accomplished, not leaving Africa until there were five promising
trading-posts--Vivi, Leopoldville, Kinshassa (Stanley Pool), Equator,
and Stanley Falls, the last about two thousand miles inland from the
west coast.

On Stanley's return to Europe the question of organizing the basin of
the Congo into an independent state was agitated. As a result fourteen
of the European powers and the United States united in a conference at
Berlin and formally agreed, on February 26, 1885, that the entire Congo
Basin should be erected into a nation to be known as the Congo Free
State. Thus less than eight years after Stanley's famous journey he
beheld the country that his genius had rescued from oblivious darkness
erected into a new state and admitted into the community of nations.

The last journey of Stanley into Africa was for the rescue of the
Egyptian governor of Equatoria, Edward Schnitzer, a German by birth,
better known as Emin Pasha. On the death of General Gordon, by whom he
was appointed governor, Emin had been left to his fate at Wadelai by the
Egyptian authorities, from which point he wrote on December 31, 1885,
saying that for nineteen months he had been forgotten and abandoned. On
July 6, 1886, he wrote beseeching help. In this contingency the sum of
L21,500 was raised--L10,000 from the Egyptian Government, the rest
subscribed in England--for the expenses of a relief party, and all eyes
turned to Stanley as the natural leader. He was engaged in a very
profitable lecturing tour in the United States when the expedition was
finally decided on. Three days after the receipt of a cablegram that his
plans were accepted, Stanley sailed for Africa _via_ England, using such
despatch that he had his expedition of 680 men, 61 being Soudanese
soldiers, ready to leave Zanzibar on February 25, 1887.

Stanley decided to make the journey by vessel around the Cape of Good
Hope to the Congo, by which river he expected to get within 200 miles of
Lake Albert. The co-operation of the infamous Arab trader, Tippu Tib,
the most powerful trader in Africa, was obtained by making him governor
of Stanley Falls, in the Congo Free State.

Following the Congo to the Aruwimi, Stanley turned up that stream and
camped at Yambuya, about sixty miles above the mouth and over one
thousand three hundred miles from the sea. To this point he had lost 57
men, and now divided his forces as follows: Advance guard, under
himself, 389; Yambuya garrison, 129, under Major Barttelot; other
supporting guards in rear, 131; original force, 706.

On January 28, 1887, Stanley started for Lake Albert, 330 miles distant
in an air line, through an entirely unknown country. It proved to be a
virgin forest, the greatest of the world, through which a path had to be
cut almost the entire distance. For one hundred and sixty days they
marched through an almost unbroken forest-bush, jungle, marsh, and
creek. The scattered villages, filled with barbarous and hostile tribes,
were abandoned at their approach; poisoned skewers, covered with green
leaves, were planted in the paths, and twice the party was attacked.

On October 6th affairs came to a crisis, as provisions had failed, save
scanty wild plants; many, stricken with disease, including Stairs, one
of the officers, could go no farther. No less than one hundred and
twenty-six men had been lost by death and desertion, about half from
each cause, and all must perish unless the party divided. Stanley left
Nelson and 52 men in camp on Ituri River, about 1 deg. 5' N., 28 deg. 30' E.,
and started ahead for relief. After terrible privation, and nearly
perishing of starvation on the way, they reached Ipoto, October 17th,
where food was purchased from the natives. As soon as possible Jephson,
Stanley's able and loyal assistant, returned to Nelson's relief and
brought him and three men to Ipoto, nine carriers having died and forty
deserted. December 4th, Stanley with 175 men emerged from the forest and
nine days later reached Lake Albert, whence Wadelai, Emin's station, was
distant four days' journey by water, or twenty-five by land.

Finding no boats on Lake Albert, Stanley was obliged to retreat from its
desolate shores westward to a fertile region, where he built Fort Bodo
and planted crops, while a detachment brought up his steel boat, in
which Jephson reached M'swa and was met, on April 26, 1888, by Emin, who
had been notified by Stanley's native courier. Two days later Emin and
Stanley met at Lake Albert, when propositions and plans as to Emin's
movements were made and discussed with no definite results.

[Illustration: A Stockaded Camp.

(From a photograph.)]

The equation of Emin's character seems to have been best stated by Vita
Hassan, his friendly subordinate for twenty years, who considers Emin's
many virtues as those of a missionary rather than of a governor or
commander, and attributes his infirmity of indecision to innate goodness
of heart. It was nine months before Emin, his army mutinous, himself and
Jephson imprisoned, with death as an alternative, decided to return with
Stanley to Zanzibar.

In the meanwhile Stanley, anxious as to his rear guard, returned through
the dreaded forest hoping from day to day to meet it, but saw no signs
until he reached Banalya, on the Aruwimi, a few miles from where he had
left it. Here he found it in a state of inactivity and disorganization,
its chief, Major Barttelot, murdered by a native, Jameson and one
hundred and two out of the original two hundred and seventy-six dead,
and twenty-six deserted. Again the journey through the forest and its
hostile tribes to Lake Albert, where Stanley with the hesitating Emin
Pasha and his followers started for Zanzibar on April 1, 1889.

The return journey, made as far as Lake Victoria Nyanza over unknown
ground, resulted in the discovery of Mount Ruwenzori, a snow-clad peak
under the Equator, estimated to be seventeen thousand feet high.
Moreover, of vastly more importance, Stanley ascertained that Lake
Albert Nyanza through the Semliki River, drained a large lake, named
Albert Edward, thus determining the secret of the long-sought and ever
retreating source of the White Nile. Small streams feed Lake Albert
Edward from the south, whose extreme limit is placed by Stanley in 1 deg.
10' S. latitude.

December 4, 1889, found the party arrived at Bagamoyo, the coast town
opposite Zanzibar. The work which Stanley was sent to do, as all other
tasks assumed by this great explorer, was ended, and Emin Pasha once
more looked on the faces of his countrymen.

[Illustration: Ruwenzori (The Snowy Mountain) identified by Stanley with
"the Mountains of the Moon."

Ascended 10,677 feet above sea-level by Lieutenant Stairs. Total height
about 16,600 feet.

(From a drawing by Mr. Stanley, made at the time of the discovery.)]

Crowned with highest honors from all the powers of Europe, no tribute,
as Stanley has said, gave such gratification as that from the United
States, which, proud of the achievements of its great citizen, extended
to him the unprecedented honors of its official, well-considered, and
merited commendation, wherein, under date of February 7, 1878, it was
"_Resolved_, by the Senate and House of Representatives in Congress
assembled, That, regarding with just pride the achievements of their
countryman, Henry M. Stanley, the distinguished explorer of Central
Africa, the thanks of the people of the United States are eminently due
and are hereby tendered him as a tribute to his extraordinary patience,
prudence, fortitude, enterprise, courage, and capacity in solving by his
researches many of the most important geographical problems of our age
and globe, problems of a continental scope, involving the progress of
our kind in commerce, science, and civilization."


THE END.








End of Project Gutenberg's Explorers and Travellers, by Adolphus W. Greely

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