CHAPTER V.
Sufferings on the Platte.—Arrive at the Rocky Mountains.—Fall out with General Ashley.—Horses again stolen by the Crow Indians. —Sickness of our General.—Rescue of the General from a wounded Buffalo.— Remarkable Rescue of the General from the Green River “Suck.”
NOT finding any game for a number of days, we again felt alarmed for our safety. The snow was deep on the ground, and our poor horses could obtain no food but the boughs and bark of the cotton-wood trees. Still we pushed forward, seeking to advance as far as possible, in order to open a trade with the Indians, and occupy ourselves in trapping during the finish of the season. We were again put upon reduced rations, one pint of beans per day being the allowance to a mess of four men, with other articles in proportion. Here I had a serious difficulty with our general, which arose in the following manner. The general desired me to shoe his horse, which I cheerfully proceeded to do. I had finished setting three shoes, and had yet one nail to drive in the fourth, when, about to drive the last nail, the horse, which had been very restless during the whole time, withdrew his foot from me. My patience becoming exhausted, I applied the hammer several times to his belly, which is the usual punishment inflicted by blacksmiths upon unruly horses. The general, who was standing near, flew into a violent rage, and poured his curses thick and fast upon me. Feeling hurt at such language from the lips of a man whom I had treated like my own brother, I retorted, reminding him of the many obligations he owed me. I told him that his language to me was harsh and unmerited; that I had thus far served him faithfully; that I had done for him what no other man would do, periling my life for him on several occasions; that I had been successful in killing game when his men were in a state of starvation; and, warming at the recapitulation, I added, “There is one more nail to drive, general, to finish shoeing that horse, which you may drive for yourself, or let go undriven, for I will see you dead before I will lift another finger to serve you.”
But little more was said on either side at that time.
The next morning the general gave orders to pack up and move on. He showed me a worn-out horse, which he ordered me to pack and drive along. I very well knew that the horse could not travel far, even without a pack.
Still, influenced by the harsh language the general had addressed to me on the previous day, I said, “General, I will pack the horse, but I wish you to understand that, whenever he gives out, there I leave him, horse and pack.”
“Obey my orders, and let me have none of your insolence, sir,” said the general.
I was satisfied this was imposed upon me for punishment. I, however, packed the horse with two pigs of lead and sundry small articles, and drove him along in the rear, the others having started a considerable time previous. The poor animal struggled on for about a mile, and then fell groaning under his burden. I unpacked him, assisted him to rise, and, repacking him, drove him on again in the trail that the others had left in the snow. Proceeding half a mile farther, he again fell. I went through the same ceremony as before. He advanced a few yards, and fell a third time. Feeling mad at the general for imposing such a task upon me, my hands tingling with cold through handling the snowy pack-ropes, I seized my hammer from the pack, and, striking with all my power, it penetrated the poor animal’s skull.
“There,” said I, “take that! I only wish you were General Ashley.”
“You do, do you?” said a voice from the bushes on the side of the trail.
I well knew the voice: it was the general himself; and another volley of curses descended uninterruptedly upon my head.
I was not the man to flinch. “What I said I meant,” I exclaimed, “and it makes no odds whether you heard it or not.”
“You are an infernal scoundrel, and I’ll shoot you;” and, suiting the action to the word, he cocked his piece and leveled it.
I cocked my rifle and presented it also, and then we stood at bay, looking each other direct in the eye.
“General,” I at length said, “you have addressed language to me which I allow no man to use, and, unless you retract that last epithet, you or I must surely die.”
He finally said, “I will acknowledge that it was language which never should be used to a man, but when I am angry I am apt to speak hastily. But,” he added, “I will make you suffer for this.”
“Not in your service, general,” I replied. “You can take your horse now, and do what you please with him. I am going to return to St. Louis.” The general almost smiled at the idea.
“You will play —— going back to St. Louis,” he said, “when, in truth, you were afraid of being killed by the Indians, through being left too far behind with that old horse.”
I left general, horse, and pack, and started on to overtake the advanced party, in order to get my saddlebags before leaving them. Approaching the party, I advanced to Fitzpatrick (in whose possession they were) and addressed him: “Hold up, Fitzpatrick; give me my saddle-bags. I am going to leave you, and return to St. Louis.”
“What!” exclaimed he, “have you had more words with the general?”
“Yes,” I replied, “words that will never be forgiven — by me, at least, in this life. I am bound to return.”
“Well,” said he,” wait till we encamp, a few hundred yards ahead. Your things are in the pack; when we stop you can get them.”
I accompanied them till they encamped; then, taking my goods from the pack, I was getting ready to return, when the general came up.
Seeing me about to carry my threat into execution, he addressed me: “Jim, you have ammunition belonging to me; you cannot take that with you.”
Luckily, I had plenty of my own, so I delivered up all in my possession belonging to him.
“Sir,” I said, “as Fortune has favored me with plenty, I deliver up yours; but, if I had had none of my own, I would have retained a portion of yours, or died in the attempt. And it seems to me that you must have a very small soul to see a man turned adrift without anything to protect him against hostile savages, or procure him necessary food in traversing this wide wilderness.”
He then said no more to me, but called Fitzpatrick, and requested him to dissuade me from leaving. Fitzpatrick came, and exerted all his eloquence to deter me from going, telling me of the great distance before me, the danger I ran, when alone, of being killed by Indians — representing the almost certain fact that I must perish from starvation. He reminded me that it was now March, and the snows were already melting; that Spring, with all its beauties, would soon be ushered in, and I should lose the sublime scenery of the Rocky Mountains.
But my mind was bent upon going; all my former love for the man was forfeited, and I felt I could never endure his presence again.
Fitzpatrick’s mission having failed, the general sent a French boy to intercede, toward whom I felt great attachment. He was named Baptiste La Jeunesse, and was about seventeen years of age. I had many times protected this lad from the abuse of his countrymen, and had fought several battles on his account, for which reason he naturally fled to me for protection, and had grown to regard me in the light of a father.
When this boy saw that I was in earnest about leaving, fearing that all attempts at persuasion would be useless, he hung his nether lip, and appeared perfectly disconsolate.
The general, calling this lad to him, desired him to come to me and persuade me from the notion of leaving. He pledged his word to Baptiste that he would say no more to displease me; that he would spare no efforts to accommodate me, and offered me free use of his horses, assigning as a reason for this concession that he was unwilling for word to reach the States that he had suffered a man to perish in the wilderness through a little private difficulty in the camp.
At this moment Le Pointe presented himself, manifesting by his appearance that he had something of importance to communicate.
“General,” said he, “more than half the men are determined to leave with Beckwourth; they are now taking ammunition from the sacks and hiding it about. Wh
at is to be done?”
“I will do the best I can.” Then turning to the lad, he said, “I took Jim’s ammunition, thinking to deter him from going; had he insisted upon going, I should have furnished him with plenty. Go now,” he added, “and tell him I want him to stay, but if he insists upon going, to take whatever he wants.”
Baptiste left the group which surrounded the general, and made his way to me, with his head inclined.
“Mon frère,” said the lad, addressing me as I sat, “the général talk much good. He vant you stay. I tell him you no stay; dat you en colère. I tell him if mon frère go, by gar, I go too. He say, you go talk to Jim, and get him stay. I tell you vat I tink. You stay leetle longer, and if de général talk you bad one time more, den ve go, by gar. You take von good horse, me take von good horse too; ve carry our planket, ve take some viande, and some poudre — den ve live. Ve go now — ve take noting — den ve die.”
I knew that the boy gave good advice, and, foregoing my former resolve, I concluded to remain.
My decision was quickly communicated to the whole camp, and the hidden parcels of ammunition were restored to their proper places. The storm in the camp ceased, and all were ready to proceed.
I have heard scores of emigrants (when stopping with me in my “hermitage,” in Beckwourth Valley, California) relate their hair-breadth escapes from Indians, and various hardships endured in their passage across the Plains. They would dwell upon their perilous nights when standing guard; their encounters with Indians, or some daring exploit with a buffalo. These recitals were listened to with incredulous ears; for there is in human nature such a love of the marvelous, that traditionary deeds, by dint of repetition, become appropriated to the narrator, and the tales that were related as actual experience now mislead the speaker and the audience.
When I recurred to my own adventures, I would smile at the comparison of their sufferings with what myself and other men of the mountains had really endured in former times. The forts that now afford protection to the traveler were built by ourselves at the constant peril of our lives, amid Indian tribes nearly double their present numbers. Without wives and children to comfort us on our lonely way; without well-furnished wagons to resort to when hungry; no roads before us but trails temporarily made; our clothing consisting of the skins of the animals that had fallen before our unerring rifles, and often whole days on insufficient rations, or entirely without food; occasionally our whole party on guard the entire night, and our strength deserting us through unceasing watching and fatigue; these are sufferings that made theirs appear trivial, and ours surpass in magnitude my power of relation.
Without doubt, many emigrants were subjected to considerable hardship, during the early part of the emigration, by the loss of cattle, and the Indians came in for their full share of blame. But it was through extreme carelessness that so many were lost; and those who have charged their losses upon the Indians have frequently found their stock, or a portion of it, harnessed to wagons either far in advance of them, or lagging carelessly in their rear. The morality of the whites I have not found to exceed very much that of the red man; for there are plenty of the former, belonging to trains on the routes, who would not hesitate to take an ox or two, if any chance offered for getting hold of them.
But to return. At the time when I had concluded to proceed with the party, we were encamped in the prairie, away from any stream (having passed the fork of the Platte), and were again in a starving condition. Except an occasional hare or rabbit, there was no sign of supplying ourselves with any kind of game.
We traveled on till we arrived at Pilot Butte, where two misfortunes befell us. A great portion of our horses were stolen by the Crow Indians, and General Ashley was taken sick, caused, beyond doubt, by exposure and insufficient fare. Our condition was growing worse and worse; and, as a measure best calculated to procure relief, we all resolved to go on a general hunt, and bring home something to supply our pressing necessities. All who were able, therefore, started in different directions, our customary mode of hunting. I traveled, as near as I could judge, about ten miles from the camp, and saw no signs of game. I reached a high point of land, and, on taking a general survey, I discovered a river which I had never seen in this region before. It was of considerable size, flowing four or five miles distant, and on its banks I observed acres of land covered with moving masses of buffalo. I hailed this as a perfect Godsend, and was overjoyed with the feeling of security infused by my opportune discovery. However, fatigued and weak; I accelerated my return to the camp, and communicated my success to my companions. Their faces brightened up at the intelligence, and all were impatient to be at them.
The general, on learning my intelligence, desired us to move forward to the river with what horses we had left, and each man to carry a pack on his back of the goods that remained after loading the cattle. He farther desired us to roll up snow to provide him with a shelter, and to return the next day to see if he survived.
The men, in their eagerness to get to the river (which is now called Green River), loaded themselves so heavily that three or four were left with nothing but their rifles to carry. Though my feelings toward the general were still unfriendly (knowing that he had expressed sentiments concerning me that were totally unmerited), I could not reconcile myself to deserting him in his present helpless condition. Accordingly, I informed him that if he thought he could endure the journey, I would make arrangements to enable him to proceed along with the company.
He appeared charmed with the magnanimity of the proposal, and declared his willingness to endure anything in reason. His consent obtained, I prepared a light litter, and, with the assistance of two of the unladen men, placed him upon it, in the easiest position possible; then, attaching two straps to the ends of the litter-bars, we threw them over our shoulders, and, taking the bars in our hands, hoisted our burden, and proceeded with all the ease imaginable. Our rifles were carried by the third man.
The anxiety of the general to remain with us prevented his giving utterance to the least complaint, and we all arrived in good season on the banks of Green River. We were rejoiced to find that our companions who preceded us had killed a fine buffalo, and we abandoned ourselves that evening to a general spirit of rejoicing. Our leader, in a few days, entirely recovered, and we were thus, by my forethought in bringing him with us, spared the labor of a return journey.
We all feasted ourselves to our hearts’ content upon the delicious, coarse-grained flesh of the buffalo, of which there was an unlimited supply. There were, besides, plenty of wild geese and teal ducks on the river — the latter, however, I very seldom ventured to kill.
One day several of us were out hunting buffalo, the general, who, by the way, was a very good shot, being among the number. The snow had blown from the level prairie, and the wind had drifted it in deep masses over the margins of the small hills, through which the buffalo had made trails just wide enough to admit one at a time. These snow-trails had become quite deep — like all snow-trails in the spring of the year — thus affording us a fine opportunity for lurking in one trail, and shooting a buffalo in another. The general had wounded a bull, which, smarting with pain, made a furious plunge at his assailant, burying him in the snow with a thrust from his savage-looking head and horns. I, seeing the danger in which he was placed, sent a ball into the beast just behind the shoulder, instantly dropping him dead. The general was rescued from almost certain death, having received only a few scratches in the adventure.
After remaining in camp four or five days, the general resolved upon dividing our party into detachments of four or five men each, and sending them upon different routes, in order the better to accomplish the object of our perilous journey, which was the collecting all the beaver-skins possible while the fur was yet valuable. Accordingly, we constructed several boats of buffalo hides for the purpose of descending the river and proceeding along any of its tributaries that might lie in our way.
One of our boats being finished and launc
hed, the general sprang into it to test its capacity. The boat was made fast by a slender string, which snapping with the sudden jerk, the boat was drawn into the current and drifted away, general and all, in the direction of the opposite shore.
It will be necessary, before I proceed farther, to give the reader a description, in as concise a manner as possible, of this “Green River Suck.”
We were encamped, as we had discovered during our frequent excursions, at the head of a great fall of the Green River, where it passes through the Utah Mountains. The current, at a small distance from our camp, became exceedingly rapid, and drew toward the centre from each shore. This place we named the Suck. This fall continued for six or eight miles, making a sheer descent, in the entire distance, of upward of two hundred and fifty feet. The river was filled with rocks and ledges, and frequent sharp curves, having high mountains and perpendicular cliffs on either side. Below our camp, the river passed through a canyon, or cañon, as it is usually written, a deep river-pass through a bluff or mountain, which continued below the fall to a distance of twenty-five or thirty miles. Wherever there was an eddy or a growth of willows, there was sure to be found a beaver lodge; the cunning creatures having selected that secluded, and, as they doubtless considered, inaccessible spot, to conceal themselves from the watchful eye of the trapper.
To return to the general. His frail bark, having reached the opposite shore, encountered a ledge of rocks, and had hardly touched, when, by the action of the rolling current, it was capsized, and he thrown struggling into the water. As Providence would have it, he reached the bluff on the opposite, side, and, holding on to the crevices in the high and perpendicular cliff, sung out lustily for assistance. Not a moment was to be lost. Someone must attempt to save him, for he could not hold his present position, in such cold water, long. I saw that no one cared to risk his life amid such imminent peril, so, calling to a Frenchman of the name of Dorway, whom I knew to be one of the best swimmers, to come to the rescue, I threw off my leggins and plunged in, supposing he would follow. I swam under water as far as I could, to avail myself of the under current (this mode is always practiced by the Indians in crossing a rapid stream). I struck the bluff a few feet above the general. After taking breath for a moment or two, I said to him (by the way, he was no swimmer), “There is only one way I can possibly save you, and I may fail in that; but you must follow my directions in the most minute degree, or we are certainly both lost.”
The Life and Adventures of James P Beckwourth Page 4
