Carrying Despatches to Mr. Astor

The winter had passed quietly, though because of the scarcity of game the post was frequently put on short rations. With the approach of spring, a tiny fish called tecan, then sturgeon, and after that salmon, abounded, affording ample provision for the colonists on the Columbia shores. There were also berries and wild cherries; land birds flew over their heads; and for the hunter and trapper this was a country of rich harvest. Stags, fallow deer, black and grizzly bears, antelopes, big-horn, beaver, sea and river otter, muskrat, fox and wolf were all to be found in this country which Mr. Astor had chosen as the center of his great enterprise.

The Chinooks, over whom Comcomly ruled, were keen traders, inquisitive and fond of ridiculing strangers, but their abstinence from intoxicating liquor gave them precedence over other tribes.

When spring opened, activities commenced. Robert Stuart was sent with supplies to his uncle's camp at Oakenagan; two clerks with eight men, were commissioned to go back to "Caldron Linn" and bring the goods from the caches; and an ineffectual attempt was made to send despatches to Mr. Astor.

Hearing an English voice on the bank one May day, they found it belonged to Mr. Crooks, who, with John Day, had reached Astoria at last through incredible hardship. The joy of these men in once more being a part of the Astoria party was inexhaustible.

Mr. Astor began preparations for sending his promised annual ship in Astoria, in 1811, before he had yet heard from the Tonquin, or the land party under Mr. Hunt. In October the Beaver put to sea with a valuable cargo for the post at the mouth of the Columbia, the trade along the coast, and the supplies for the Russian establishment further north.

Mr. John Clark, the partner who embarked, five young clerks and fifteen laborers, were all American citizens. They were also accompanied by six Canadian voyageurs. Captain Sowle's instructions corresponded with those given to Captain Thorn—"to be careful in his intercourse with the natives, and not to permit more than one or two to board at a time."

They were to stop at the Sandwich Islands, enquire the fortune of the Tonquin, and make sure the establishment at the mouth of the Columbia had not fallen into hostile hands. If all were well, he was to take a large number of Sandwich Islanders along with him. After landing the portion of his cargo intended for Astoria, he was to continue to New Archangel with the supplies for the Russian post, where he would receive peltries in exchange. Returning to Astoria, he was to collect furs there and along the coast, and the proceed to China.

On reaching the Sandwich Islands, they heard rumors of the fate of the Tonquin, and fears that no establishment had been formed. Anxiety was felt for both the land and sea parties.

The Beaver sailed on, but on reaching the Columbia showed the utmost caution. Four times they fired signal guns over three days, and to their great joy they heard an answer on the third day, and beacon fires were burned all night. Even then Captain Sowle was cautious in entering the bay, for fear there might be treacherous foes behind the guns.

Toward noon, an Indian canoe and barge approached them, the canoe holding Comcomly and six Indians, the barge McDougal, McLellan and eight Canadians. On the 9th day of May, 1812, the Beaver crossed the bar with these smaller boats as pilots, and anchored in Baker's Bay. Not the least part of the joy in the arrival of the ship, as Franchére states, was receiving letters from home.

With the arrival of the Beaver new life and vigor appeared in Astoria. Two parties were immediately formed under MeKenzie and Clark, to establish posts above the forks of the Columbia, where rivalry from the Northwest Company might be expected. A third party under David Stuart, was to carry supplies to Oakenagan. It was most important the despatches should be gotten through to Mr. Astor in New York, and Robert Stuart was chosen this time for the responsible mission. Though he had not crossed the mountains himself, he was given as campanions John Day, Ben Jones, a Kentuckian, and two Canadians, who had been in Mr. Hunt's party. Messrs. Crooks and McLellan also accompanied the little party east. Stuart himself was young and vigorous and competent.

All the parties left Astoria on June 30th, and kept together until by dint of vigilance and caution they had passed safely through the piratical Narrows without loss. Having bought horses from friendly Indians, the returning party were ready to start on their long journey.

Robert Stuart trusted to the more favorable season to save his party from the perils and extremities which had befallen Mr. Hunt the winter before; but summer also had its trials. The winter streams were dried up, and mosquitoes thronged their passage by day, and prevented sleep at night. They suffered greatly from thirst, and found that several of the caches made by Mr. Hunt's men at "Caldron Linn," had been opened and plundered.

Falling in with a band of Snake Indians, one of them hugged and kissed Robert Stuart's horse, saying it had been stolen from him. The horse was a fine animal that the young partner had meant to present to Mr. Astor when he reached New York. The young Indian was offered attractive gifts if he would accompany the party as guide, which offer he eagerly accepted, only to decamp in the night, with his own, and Robert Stuart's horse.

In early September they had some trouble with a party of Crow Indians, and turned their course in consequence, keeping vigilant watch for their enemies. Three weeks later, early one morning, a sudden cry of "Indians! Indians! to arms! to arms!" sounded. A mounted Crow, with a red flag, galloped to a neighboring hill with a small troop of savages whooping and yelling. The frightened horses dashed toward the flag-bearer, attracted by the red banner.

At the same time Indian yells sounded in the direction of the baggage. Rushing to secure this, the first half of the Indian party put spurs to their horses and all galloped off, followed by the panic-stricken camp horses. It was all over in a few minutes, and Robert Stuart's brave band were left horseless, to travel over vast distances of rugged mountains, and parched and foodless plains. John Day had given out early in the journey, his mind having been weakened by the fierce struggles of the previous trip, so the little party only numbered five.

There was nothing to do but set out on foot, though they dropped down the "Mad River" for ninety miles in a canoe. Finding themselves in the vicinity of the dangerous Blackfeet Indians, they turned quite out of their course to avoid them, suffering from hunger, both through fear of using a gun in this hostile region, and also because the small amount of provisions they could carry with other loads, soon gave out.

Once, after traveling three days without food, with four days' march ahead over a barren plain, one of the Canadians wanted to draw lots. Mr. Stuart indignantly declined to consider the horrible proposition, but passed a sleepless night of anxiety. To their joy, the next morning they discovered an old run-down buffalo bull near them, which had lagged behind the rest. So starved were they that they ate of the raw meat before there was time to cook it.

On the Spanish River, they bought an old pack horse from a party of Snake Indians,—all the thieving Crows had left them,—and loading it with all the meat it could carry, started on. Sometimes they were compelled to camp on the open prairie without fire, and the October nights were keen and cutting.

They built themselves a winter cabin in the bend of a river sheltered by cottonwoods and willows, and killed many of a herd of buffalo, which came tramping through the woody bottom land, jerking the meat in large quantities for winter use.

In five weeks they were visited by a band of Indians in war-paint and feathers. They were in pursuit of the Crows, who had robbed them, and were nearly famished. The jerked meat went to meet their necessities. On the unwilling departure of their guests, though in middle December, it was thought best to leave their comfortable winter nest and be many miles distant when the Indians returned. Fortunately their guests had failed to steal their old pack horse.

A forced march of fourteen days, over three hundred and thirty miles, carried them into desolute prairies, and they were compelled to retrace their steps three days' journey, to a grove of cottonwood trees on the margin of another stream, with buffaloes in evidence near at hand. Here they built a second cabin, and laid in a fresh supply of meat, pausing in their labor to celebrate the New Year of 1813.

These celebrations of the ushering in of the New Year were repeated year by year in wilderness lodges; posts of the fur traders; in trading vessels on the high seas. The turnings of the tide of time into a fresh channel with new hopes, seemed never to fail of importance to the adventurers of those days, particularly when the party included the light-hearted Canadian voyageurs, who ever looked upon the opening of the New Year as a festival too happy to be omitted.

As spring opened they continued their journey on foot, with the faithful old pack horse, who had covered his bones with flesh, and strengthened his muscles during the winter. Now the prairies were clothed with green and stocked with game. Buffalo covered the country, and wild geese and duck abounded, but the streams continued too shallow to float a canoe.

The long tramp was growing irksome, and they watched for any sign of a change. A special kind of grass, prairie hens, driftwood with the mark of an axe upon it, and an island which was supposed to be within one hundred and forty miles of the Missouri, all gave them fresh courage. Three days further on, they met an Indian who told them their conjecture was correct, and added an amazing piece of information—that the United States and England had been at war for a year, during which time the events of the outside world had not reached the depths of the wilderness.

Exchanging the old pack horse at an Indian village for provisions and a skin canoe, which they changed later for two old wooden canoes found at a deserted camp, they made the two hundred and fifty miles to Fort Osage. Here they were entertained most hospitably by Lieutenant Brownson, the greatest luxury they met being bread, which they had not tasted for a year.

On the 30th of April they arrived at St. Louis, where for a time they were the center of interest, since they brought the first news of Mr. Hunt's party, and of the new establishment at the mouth of the Columbia.

The terms of the agreement with Russia, the opening negotiations concerning which were begun in March, 1811, and involved the voyage of an agent to Russia and return, were ratified by Mr. Astor in 1813. The arrangement bound the two companies to respect each other's trading and hunting grounds, and to furnish no arms or ammunition to the Indians. They were also to act together for mutual protection against rival aspirants for their advantageous positions.

The American Company was to carry the Russian post provisions and supplies and to receive peltries in return. If agreeable to the Russian Governor's wishes, the American Cumpany was to convey the Russian furs to Canton, sell them on commission, and return with the proceeds, or such freight as they might order. The agreement was to stand for four years, and to be renewed at the end of that time, if both parties concurred.

Mr. Astor planned to place small coasting vessels of his own at Astoria, which would ply along the coast on short voyages, and have a vast advantage over ships that must come long distances.

He looked forward to making Astoria the great center of the American fur trade on the Pacific, and the nucleus of a future American State. That a fortune should be spent in materializing these hopes, seemed but natural to this man of vast enterprises and gigantic courage.

But war had already broken out between the United States and Great Britain, before Mr. Astor ratified his important agreement in 1813, and with the war came added anxieties regarding a venture which had already tested the far-reaching vision of the great venturer to a marked degree.

In this dilemma, Mr. Astor wrote to Captain Sowle at Canton, directing him to carry supplies to Astoria, and remain there until orders came from Mr. Hunt, who was in command at the post. Meanwhile the war went on.

Not a word arrived from Astoria. The loss of the first despatches and Robert Stuart's prolonged journey on foot, had increased the already lengthy time of waiting for news. Nothing had been heard from Mr. Hunt since he left the Arickara village, and there were floating rumors of his party having been cut off by the savages.

Mr. Astor's hope and faith needed to be of the staunchest, to send out another expensive expedition in the face of so great loss in the past and equal uncertainty in the future. Yet whatever his anxiety, his courage did not falter, and presently he was fitting out the Lark to go to the relief of the little settlement.

Just at this point, Mr. Astor was informed that the Northwest Company was about to start an armed ship to form a factory at the mouth of the Columbia. This report caused the President of the Pacific Fur Company great anxiety. The men in his employ at Astoria were largely Scotchmen and Canadians, the American influence being dependent on Mr. Hunt's safe arrival. There was also possibility of the British government sending an armed force against the post.

In this emergency, Mr. Astor appealed to Mr. Monroe, Secretary of State, for protection from the United States Government. He gave the commercial importance of the settlement, and the significance it might assume as a place of shelter to American shipping on the Pacific. He only asked that "the American government would throw forty or fifty men into the fort at his establishment, which number would be sufficient for its defense until he could send reinforcements overland."

No reply came to his petition, though the letter was repeated which pointed out Astoria's influence in extending United States power on the Pacific coast. The Lark put to sea in March, 1813.

Mr. Astor wrote to Mr. Hunt by way of the Lark, saying: "I always think you are well, and I shall see you again, which, heaven I hope will grant." He warned him to be on guard lest the Northwest Company surprise and attack the post; and expressed his indignation at the return this company had made for his own frankness and generous offers.

"Were I on the spot," he said, "and had the management of affairs, I would defy them all; but, as it is, everything depends on you and your friends about you. Our enterprise is grand, and deserves success, and I hope to God it will meet it. If my object were merely gain in money, I should say, think whether it is best to save what we can and abandon the place; but the very idea is like a dagger to my heart."

Month after month passed by, without any change in the uncertainty which hung over the enterprise. The strain began to have its effect on Mr. Astor 's spirits. He was sitting one gloomy evening thinking over the loss of the Tonquin and the fate of her unfortunate crew, and fearing equal calamity might have overtaken other parts of the expedition, when the evening paper was handed him. Glancing down, his eye caught the words which announced Mr. Stuart and his companion's safe arrival at St. Louis, with the news that Mr. Hunt and his party had reached the mouth of the Columbia. For a time the clouds dispersed, and Mr. Astor again hoped for the complete success of his plans.