Oregon and Eldorado; or, Romance of the Rivers

CHAPTER XVIII.
CAPT. CLARKE'S ROUTE DOWN THE YELLOWSTONE

July 3, 1806. – The party under Capt. Clarke, consisting of fifteen men, with fifty horses, set out through the valley of Clarke's River, along the western side of which they rode in a southern direction. The valley is from ten to fifteen miles in width, and is diversified by a number of small open plains, abounding with grass and a variety of sweet-scented plants, and watered by numerous streams rushing from the western mountains. These mountains were covered with snow about one-fifth of the way from the top; and some snow was still to be seen in the hollows of the mountains to the eastward.

July 7. – They reached Wisdom River, and stopped for dinner at a hot spring situated in the open plain. The bed of the spring is about fifteen yards in circumference, and composed of loose, hard, gritty stones, through which the water boils in large quantities. It is slightly impregnated with sulphur, and so hot, that a piece of meat, about the size of three fingers, was completely cooked in twenty-five minutes.

July 8. – They arrived at Jefferson's River, where they had deposited their goods in the month of August the year before. They found every thing safe, though some of the goods were a little damp, and one of the canoes had a hole in it. They had now crossed from Traveller's-Rest Creek to the head of Jefferson's River, which seems to form the best and shortest route over the mountains during almost the whole distance of one hundred and sixty-four miles. It is, in fact, an excellent road; and, by cutting down a few trees, it might be rendered a good route for wagons, with the exception of about four miles over one of the mountains, which would require a little levelling.

July 10. – The boats were now loaded, and Capt. Clarke divided his men into two bands. Sergt. Ordway, with nine men, in six canoes, was to descend the river; while Capt. Clarke, with the remaining ten, the wife and child of Chaboneau, and fifty horses, were to proceed by land to the Yellowstone. The latter party set out at five in the afternoon from the forks of the Missouri, in a direction nearly east. The plain was intersected by several great roads leading to a gap in the mountain about twenty miles distant, in a direction east-north-east; but the Indian woman, who was acquainted with the country, recommended another gap more to the south, through which Capt. Clarke determined to proceed.

They started early the next morning, and, pursuing the route recommended by the squaw, encamped in the evening at the entrance of the gap mentioned by her. Through this gap they passed next day, and, at the distance of six miles, reached the top of the dividing ridge which separates the waters of the Missouri from those of the Yellowstone. Nine miles from the summit, they reached the Yellowstone itself, about a mile and a half below where it issues from the Rocky Mountains. The distance from the head of the Missouri to this place is forty-eight miles, the greater part of which is through a level plain. They halted for three hours to rest their horses, and then pursued the Buffalo Road along the banks of the river.

Although but just emerging from a high, snowy mountain, the Yellowstone is here a bold, rapid, and deep stream, one hundred and twenty yards in width. They continued their course along the river till the 23d, when the party embarked on board of two canoes, each of which was twenty-eight feet long, sixteen or eighteen inches deep, and from sixteen to twenty-four inches wide. Sergt. Prior, with two men, was directed to take the horses to the Mandans for safe keeping until the re-union of the expedition.

July 24. – At eight o'clock, Capt. Clarke and the remainder of his party embarked, and proceeded very steadily down the river. They passed the mouths of several large rivers emptying into the Yellowstone; one of which was called the Big-horn, from the numbers of that remarkable species of sheep seen in its neighborhood. Next day, Capt. Clarke landed to examine a curious rock, situated in an extensive bottom on the right, about two hundred and fifty paces from the shore. It is nearly two hundred paces in circumference, two hundred feet high, and accessible only from the north-east; the other sides consisting of perpendicular cliffs, of a light-colored, gritty stone. The soil on the summit is five or six feet deep, of a good quality, and covered with short grass. From this height, the eye ranges over a wide extent of variegated country. On the south-west are the Rocky Mountains, covered with snow; on the north, a lower range, called the Little Wolf Mountains. The low grounds of the river extend nearly six miles to the southward, when they rise into plains, reaching to the mountains. The north side of the river is bounded by jutting, romantic cliffs, beyond which the plains are open and extensive, and the whole country enlivened by herds of buffaloes, elks, and wolves. After enjoying the prospect from this rock, to which Capt. Clarke gave the name of Pompey's Pillar, he descended, and continued his route. At the distance of six or seven miles, he stopped to secure two bighorns, which had been shot from the boat, and, while on shore, saw in the face of the cliff, about twenty feet above the water, a fragment of the rib of a fish, three feet long, and nearly three inches round, embedded in the rock itself.

BEAVERS, BUFFALOES, MOSQUITOES

The beavers were in great numbers along the banks of the river, and through the night were flapping their tails in the water round the boats.

Aug. 1. – The buffaloes appeared in vast numbers. A herd happened to be on their way across the river. Such was the multitude of these animals, that although the river, including an island over which they passed, was a mile in width, the herd stretched, as thick as they could swim, completely from one side to the other. Our party, descending the river, was obliged to stop for an hour to let the procession pass. We consoled ourselves for the delay by killing four of the herd, and then proceeded, till, at the distance of forty-five miles, two other herds of buffaloes, as numerous as the first, crossed the river in like manner.

Aug. 4. – The camp became absolutely uninhabitable, in consequence of the multitude of mosquitoes. The men could not work in preparing skins for clothing, nor hunt in the low grounds: in short, there was no mode of escape, except by going on the sand bars in the river, where, if the wind should blow, the insects do not venture. But when there is no wind, and particularly at night, when the men have no covering except their worn-out blankets, the pain they inflict is scarcely to be endured.

On one occasion, Capt. Clarke went on shore, and ascended a hill after one of the bighorns; but the mosquitoes were in such multitudes, that he could not keep them from the barrel of his rifle long enough to take aim.

This annoyance continued, till, on the 11th of September, they write, "We are no longer troubled with mosquitoes, which do not seem to frequent this part of the river; and, after having been persecuted with them during the whole route from the falls, it is a most happy exemption. Their noise was very agreeably exchanged for that of the wolves, which were howling in various directions all round us."

Aug. 12, 1806. – The party continued to descend the river. One of their canoes had, by accident, a small hole made in it; and they halted for the purpose of covering it with a piece of elk-skin. While there, about noon, they were overjoyed at seeing the boats of Capt. Lewis's party heave in sight. The whole expedition being now happily re-united, at about three o'clock all embarked on board the boats; but as the wind was high, accompanied with rain, we did not proceed far before we halted for the night.

THEY PART WITH SOME OF THEIR COMPANIONS

On the 14th August, having now reached a part of the river where we occasionally met the boats of adventurous traders ascending the river, Capt. Lewis was applied to by one of the men, Colter, who was desirous of joining two trappers, who proposed to him to accompany them, and share their profits. The offer was an advantageous one; and as he had always performed his duty, and his services might be dispensed with, Capt. Lewis consented to his going, provided none of the rest would ask or expect a similar indulgence. To this they cheerfully answered, that they wished Colter every success, and would not apply for a discharge before we reached St. Louis. We therefore supplied him, as did his comrades also, with powder and lead, and a variety of articles which might be useful to him; and he left us the next day.

The example of this man shows how easily men may be weaned from the habits of civilized life, and brought to relish the manners of the woods. This hunter had now been absent many years from his country, and might naturally be presumed to have some desire to return to his native seats; yet, just at the moment when he is approaching the frontiers, he is tempted by a hunting-scheme to go back to the solitude of the woods.

A few days after this, Chaboneau, with his wife and child, concluded to follow us no longer, as he could be no longer useful to us. We offered to take him with us to the United States; but he said that he had there no acquaintance, and preferred remaining among the Indians. This man has been very serviceable to us, and his wife particularly so, among the Shoshonees. She has borne with a patience truly admirable the fatigues of our long journey, encumbered with the charge of an infant, which is now only nineteen months old. We paid him his wages, amounting to five hundred dollars and thirty-three cents, including the price of a horse and a lodge purchased of him, and pursued our journey without him.

THEY REACH HOME

Sept. 8, 1806. – We reached Council Bluffs, and stopped for a short time to examine the situation of the place, and were confirmed in our belief that it would be a very eligible spot for a trading establishment.⁴ Being anxious to reach the junction of the Platte River, we plied our oars so well, that by night we had made seventy-eight miles, and landed at our old encampment, on the ascent, twelve miles above that river. We had here occasion to remark the wonderful evaporation from the Missouri. The river does not appear to contain more water, nor is its channel wider, than at the distance of one thousand miles nearer its source, although within that space it receives about twenty rivers (some of them of considerable width), and a great number of smaller streams.

A few days more brought us to the mouth of the Kansas River. About a mile below it, we landed to view the country. The low grounds are delightful, the whole country exhibiting a rich appearance; but the weather was oppressively warm. Descending as we had done from a high, open country, between the latitudes of forty-six and forty-nine degrees, to the wooded plains in thirty-eight and thirty-nine degrees, the heat would have been intolerable, had it not been for the constant winds from the south and the south-west.

On the 20th September, we reached the mouth of Osage River. A few miles lower down, we saw on the banks some cows feeding; and the whole party involuntarily raised a shout of joy at the sight of this evidence of civilization and domestic life.

We soon after reached the little French village of La Charette, which we saluted with a discharge of four guns and three hearty cheers. We landed, and were received with kindness by the inhabitants, as well as by some traders who were on their way to traffic with the Osages. They were all surprised and pleased at our arrival; for they had long since abandoned all hopes of ever seeing us return.

The third day after this, – viz., on Tuesday, the 23d of September, 1806, – we arrived at St. Louis, and, having fired a salute, went on shore, and received the heartiest and most hospitable welcome from the whole village.

CONCLUSION

The successful termination of the expedition was a source of surprise and delight to the whole country. The humblest of its citizens had taken a lively interest in the issue of this journey, and looked forward with impatience for the information it would furnish. Their anxieties, too, for the safety of the party, had been kept in a state of excitement by lugubrious rumors, circulated from time to time on uncertain authorities, and uncontradicted by letters or other direct information, from the time when the party left the Mandan towns, on their ascent up the river, in 1804, until their actual return to St. Louis.

The courage, perseverance, and discretion displayed by the commanders, and the fidelity and obedience of the men, were the theme of general approbation, and received the favorable notice of Government. A donation of lands was made to each member of the party; Capt. Lewis was appointed Governor of Louisiana, which, at that time, embraced the whole country west of the Mississippi, within the boundaries of the United States; and Capt. Clarke was made Superintendent of Indian Affairs.

It was not until some years after, however, that the world was put in possession of the detailed history of the expedition. Capt. Lewis, in the midst of other cares, devoted what time he could to the preparation of his journals for publication, and, in 1809, was on his way to Philadelphia for that purpose, but, at a village in Tennessee, was taken ill, and prevented from proceeding. Here the energetic mind, which had encountered so unfalteringly the perils and sufferings of the desert, gave way. Constitutional despondency overcame him: it is probable he lost his reason; for, in a rash moment, he applied a pistol to his head, and destroyed his life. His journals were published under the charge of Paul Allen of Philadelphia.

ELDORADO

CHAPTER I.
THE DISCOVERY

What is meant by Eldorado? Is there such a country? and, if there be, where is it? The name literally means "The Golden Country," and was given to an unknown region in South America by the Spaniards, who had heard from the Indians marvellous tales of such a land lying in the interior of the continent, where gold and precious stones were as common as rocks and pebbles in other countries, and to be had for the trouble of picking them up. It was also a land of spices and aromatic gums. The first notion of this favored region was communicated by an Indian chief to Gonzalo Pizarro, brother of the conqueror of Peru, whose imagination was captivated by the account, and his ambition fired with a desire to add this, which promised to be the most brilliant of all, to the discoveries and conquests of his countrymen. He found no difficulty in awakening a kindred enthusiasm in the bosoms of his followers. In a short time, he mustered three hundred and fifty Spaniards, and four thousand Indians. One hundred and fifty of his company were mounted. The Indians were to carry the baggage and provisions, and perform the labors of the expedition.

A glance at the map of South America will give us a clear idea of the scene of the expedition. The River Amazon, the largest river of the globe, rises in the highest ranges of the Andes, and flows from west to east through nearly the whole breadth of the continent. Pizarro's expedition started in the year 1540 from Quito, near the sources of the great river, and, marching east, soon became entangled in the deep and intricate passes of the mountains. As they rose into the more elevated regions, the icy winds that swept down the sides of the Cordilleras benumbed their limbs, and many of the natives found a wintry grave in the wilderness. On descending the eastern slope, the climate changed; and, as they came to a lower level, the fierce cold was succeeded by a suffocating heat, while tempests of thunder and lightning poured on them with scarcely any intermission day or night. For more than six weeks, the deluge continued unabated; and the forlorn wanderers, wet, and weary with incessant toil, were scarcely able to drag their limbs along the soil, broken up as it was, and saturated with the moisture. After months of toilsome travel, they reached the region where grew the spice-trees. Their produce resembled the cinnamon of the East in taste, but was of inferior quality. They saw the trees bearing the precious bark spreading out into broad forests; yet, however valuable it might be for future commerce, it was of but little worth to them. But, from the savages whom they occasionally met, they learned, that at ten days' distance was a rich and fruitful land, abounding with gold, and inhabited by populous nations. The Spaniards were so convinced of the existence of such a country, that if the natives, on being questioned, professed their ignorance of it, they were supposed to be desirous of concealing the fact, and were put to the most horrible tortures, and even burnt alive, to compel them to confess. It is no wonder, therefore, if they told, in many instances, such stories as the Spaniards wished to hear, which would also have the effect of ridding their own territories of their troublesome guests by inducing them to advance farther. Pizarro had already reached the limit originally proposed for the expedition; but these accounts induced him to continue on.

As they advanced, the country spread out into broad plains, terminated by forests, which seemed to stretch on every side as far as the eye could reach. The wood was thickly matted with creepers and climbing plants, and at every step of the way they had to hew open a passage with their axes; while their garments, rotting from the effects of the drenching rains, caught in every bush, and hung about them in shreds. Their provisions failed, and they had only for sustenance such herbs and roots as they could gather in the forest, and such wild animals as, with their inadequate means, they could capture.

At length they came to a broad expanse of water, from whence flowed a stream, – one of those which discharge their waters into the great River Amazon. The sight gladdened their hearts, as they hoped to find a safer and more practicable route by keeping along its banks. After following the stream a considerable distance, the party came within hearing of a rushing noise, that seemed like thunder issuing from the bowels of the earth. The river tumbled along over rapids with frightful velocity, and then discharged itself in a magnificent cataract, which they describe as twelve hundred feet high. Doubtless this estimate must be taken with some allowance for the excited feelings of the Spaniards, keenly alive to impressions of the sublime and the terrible.

For some distance above and below the falls, the bed of the river contracted; so that its width did not exceed twenty feet. They determined to cross, in hopes of finding a country that might afford them better sustenance. A frail bridge was constructed by throwing trunks of trees across the chasm, where the cliffs, as if split asunder by some convulsion of Nature, descended sheer down a perpendicular depth of several hundred feet. Over this airy causeway, the men and horses succeeded in effecting their passage; though one Spaniard, made giddy by heedlessly looking down, lost his footing, and fell into the boiling surges below. They gained little by the exchange. The country wore the same unpromising aspect: the Indians whom they occasionally met in the pathless wilderness were fierce and unfriendly, and the Spaniards were engaged in perpetual conflict with them. From these they learned that a fruitful country was to be found down the river, at the distance of only a few days' journey; and the Spaniards held on their weary way, still hoping, and still deceived, as the promised land flitted before them, like the rainbow, receding as they advanced.

At length, spent with toil and suffering, Pizarro resolved to construct a bark large enough to transport the weaker part of his company and his baggage. The forests furnished him with timber; the shoes of the horses, which had died on the road, or been slaughtered for food, were converted into nails; gum, distilled from the trees, took the place of pitch; and the tattered garments of the soldiers served for oakum. At the end of two months, the vessel was ready, and the command given to Francisco Orellana. The troops now moved forward through the wilderness, following the course of the river; the vessel carrying the feebler soldiers. Every scrap of provisions had long since been consumed. The last of their horses had been devoured; and they greedily fed upon toads, serpents, and even insects, which that country, teeming with the lower forms of animal life, abundantly supplied.

The natives still told of a rich district, inhabited by a populous nation. It was, as usual, at the distance of several days' journey; and Pizarro resolved to halt where he was, and send Orellana down in his brigantine to procure a stock of provisions, with which he might return, and put the main body in condition to resume their march. Orellana, with fifty of the adventurers, pushed off into the middle of the river, where the stream ran swiftly; and his bark, taken by the current, shot forward as with the speed of an arrow, and was soon out of sight.

Days and weeks passed away, yet the vessel did not return; and no speck was to be seen on the waters as the Spaniards strained their eyes to the farthest point, till the banks closed in, and shut the view. Detachments were sent out, and, though absent several days, came back without intelligence of their comrades. Weary of suspense, Pizarro determined to continue their march down the river, which they did, with incredible suffering, for two months longer, till their doubts were dispelled by the appearance of a white man, wandering, half naked, in the woods, in whose famine-stricken countenance they recognized the features of one of their countrymen. Orellana had passed swiftly down the river to the point of its confluence with the Amazon, where he had been led to expect that he should find supplies for the wants of himself and his companions, but found none. Nor was it possible to return as he had come, and make head against the current of the river. In this dilemma, a thought flashed across his mind: it was, to leave the party under Pizarro to their fate, and to pursue his course down the great river on which he had entered; to explore Eldorado for himself, and make the best of his way home to Spain to claim the glory and reward of discovery. His reckless companions readily consented to this course, with the exception of the individual whom Pizarro found; and him, when he remonstrated, they put ashore, and left to shift for himself.

Pizarro and his party, deserted in the wilderness, unable to advance farther, had no alternative but to remain, or retrace their miserable way to Quito, the place they had started from more than a year before. They chose the latter, and commenced their return march with heavy hearts. They took a more northerly route than that by which they had approached the Amazon; and, though it was attended with fewer difficulties, they experienced yet greater distresses, from their greater inability to overcome them. Their only food was such scanty fare as they could pick up in the forest, or happily meet with in some forsaken Indian settlement, or wring by violence from the natives. Some sickened and sank down by the way, and perished where they fell; for there was none to help them. Intense misery had made them selfish; and many a poor wretch was abandoned to his fate, to die alone in the wilderness, or, more probably, to be devoured, while living, by the wild animals which roamed over it.

It took them a year to measure back their way to Quito; and the miseries they had endured were testified to by their appearance when they arrived, in sadly reduced numbers, at the place of their starting. Their horses gone, their arms broken and rusted, the skins of wild animals their only clothes, their long and matted locks streaming wildly down their shoulders, their faces blackened by the tropical sun, their bodies wasted by famine and disfigured by scars, it seemed as if the charnel-house had given up its dead, as, with unsteady step, they crept slowly onwards. More than half of the four thousand Indians who had accompanied the expedition had perished; and of the Spaniards, only eighty, and many of these irretrievably broken in constitution, found their way back to Quito.

Meanwhile, Orellana glided down the stream, which then was nameless and unknown, but which has since been called by his name, though it is more generally known by a name derived from a story which Orellana told, in his account of his voyage, of a nation of Amazons inhabiting its banks. But an account of Orellana's adventures must be reserved for our next chapter.