by Don Berry
During the spring word came to Fort Vancouver that there were American parties wintering near the HBC Flathead House, in northern Montana. This changed Smith‘s mind about going east with Simpson’s party. He decided to make his way to the American winter encampment on his own.
Accordingly, he left Fort Vancouver almost two weeks before Governor Simpson, on May 12, and proceeded up the Columbia. The joumey, despite Simpson’s dire misgiving, was uneventful. (Actually, no such journey was really uneventful. This is a historian’s conceit, the meaning of which is that we don’t have any record of what happened.)
Smith had with him only one man—Arthur Black—of his surviving party. Another, John Turner, had elected to remain behind in Oregon. The third, Richard Leland, disappeared into the same obscurity from which he had come. The only information about him at all is the tantalizing note written by McLoughlin the following summer: "Thomas Petit and Richard Layland are on their way to Canada there are heavy accusations against them, you will please keep them in confinement and if you apprehend any chance of their making their escape you will put them in Irons." So presumably the little Englishman had an eventful spring of one kind or another.
Jedediah made contact with a party under his partner Davey Jackson sometime during the summer, exact date not known. This probably happened somewhere on the Flathead River, between Flathead House and Flathead Lake. They set out for the south, to rejoin the balance of the scattered crew of Smith Jackson and Sublette.
CHAPTER 14
"We dashed through the ranks of the foe"
SMITH had been gone for two years; it is now the summer of 1829. For the mountain activities of those two years we have to backtrack to the spring of 1828, while Smith and his party were still trudging miserably up the west coast toward the Umpqua massacre.
After Robert Campbell’s short visit with Peter Skene Ogden, he took his party north. Though they were "very silent regarding the object of the journey," Ogden had his own private ideas about where they were going: "American party left for the Flat Heads and perhaps the kootenays. I believe they intend trapping the forks of the Missouri."
If so, and it seems likely, Campbell’s party was probably working slightly to the north of Bill Sublette who trapped both flanks of the Tetons and the Pierre’s Hole area. Campbell did a fair trade with the Flatheads, turned around in late spring and started back for Bear Lake. On the way he picked up a small detached party of Sublette’s men, including no less a personage than James P. Beckwourth, and was accompanied the rest of the way by them.
When within fifteen miles of Bear Lake, Campbell’s party was attacked by a band of (reportedly) two or three hundred Blackfeet. The trappers broke for some nearby rocks, making it with the loss of one man; "being an inactive man, [Lewis Bolduc] was overtaken and killed before he had reached the rocks."
Campbell had with him a Flathead Indian who spoke the language of the Blackfeet. Through this interpreter, Campbell informed their attackers that they were within a few miles of the rendezvous where, in addition to the white men, there were several bands of Indians hostile to the Blackfeet.
While this discussion was going on, "the Indians saw two men, mounted on fleet horses, pass through their lines, unhurt, to carry the information of Mr. C’s situation to his friends."
This report, which may be taken as fact, is from a letter by Ashley, who was told by Sublette. For what it’s worth, here is James P. Beckwourth on the same subject:
To risk a message [to the camp] . . . seemed to subject the messenger to inevitable death; yet the risk' must be encountered by some one. 'Who’ll go? who’ll go? was asked on all sides. I was wounded, but not severely . . . I said, "Give me a swift horse . . . ` [etc.]
"You will run the greatest risk,” said they . . .[etc., etc.]
Again we dashed through the ranks of the foe before they had time to comprehend our movement. The balls and arrows flew around us like hail . . .[etc., etc., etc.].
Somebody did do it, though, even if not James P. Beckwourth. The Blackfeet, seeing the couriers get through, scattered rapidly. Campbell and his party marched into Camp, and it began to look as though a pattern were shaping up. Last year, too, rendezvous had been preceded by a battle with Bug’s Boys, as they were known to the mountain men (signifying, according to one source, the Devil’s Own). If that sort of thing was going to go on, rendezvous could get to be pretty unpopular after a while.
***
Eighteen twenty-eight was a bloody year for the trade, though the mountain partners had not yet heard of the two largest massacres: Jedediah Smith and the Mojaves, Jedediah and the Umpquas.
Aside from these dramatic mass killings, the mountains were taking their toll in bits and pieces. Sublette had lost a man—Joseph Coty—to the Blackfeet. Tulloch lost three, including Bill’s little brother Pinckney Sublette. Two others were lost on the Bear River, "while attempting to pass from one American camp to another:" John Johnson and Godair. (Probably Thierry Godin, as Autoine—his son shows up at the battle of Pierre‘s Hole, revenging his father’s death.) Blackfeet got the credit for them, too, and for Old Pierre Tevanitagon.
Four others——Logan, Bell, Scott and 0’Hara——wandered off together and were never heard from again. They could have gone under in either the fall of ’27‘ or the spring of ’28. A footnote in the contemporary casualty list says, "The fate of these men is not known, but the conclusion is hardly doubtful.
Counting Smith’s losses—ten to the Mojave, fifteen to the Umpqua—this comes to thirty-six men. A bad year from the point of view of personnel.
***
But when the partners settled down at Rendezvous 1828 to count up the year’s catch, things looked pretty fair. The trappers had brought in better than seventy packs of beaver—7,107 1/2 pounds; 49 otter skins, 27 pounds of castoreum, and 73 muskrats. Since their supply train had come up the previous November, they would have to get the furs down to St. Louis on their own. That was all right, too. By doing their own transporting they would be getting St. Louis prices for the fur; and the difference was significant. Mountain price was still about $3 a pound; in St. Louis the beaver brought $5, the otter skins $3 each, the castoreum $4 a pound, and even the muskrats added 25 cents each. The grand total was $35,810.75.
To be sure, Smith Jackson & Sublette were still in debt to General Ashley by about $20,000 (including a note for $9,010.40 for the balance owing on the Fall ’27 supply party.) But after all debts and charges had been made, Ashley was still able to enter on his books a "Ballance due S J &S this 26th day Octr 1828" amounting to $16,000. This was not all proht, of course. They still had to outfit a supply party for 1829. But this cost less than $10,000, leaving the s partners free and clear and $6,000 ahead of the game.1 The returns of the absent partner Smith were unknown, but Jackson and Sublette had managed to get the company out of debt without him, though it had taken the first two years of the partnership to do it. (About the time of Rendezvous 1828, Smith’s party was being decimated by the Umpqua; had the mountain partners known of this, their optimism might well have been tempered.) Bill Sublette was put in charge of the expedition down, and he reached civilization around the first part of October, 1828. He disposed of his furs to Ashley at the prices noted above. The previous year he had returned immediately to the mountains with the new supplies; this time, however, Sublette was to remain in SL Louis for the winter of ’28-'29. The partners had in mind a strengthening of their trapping force, and Sublette was to recruit the new men and organize the supply train for the following spring.
(An old friend of ours also left Rendezvous 1828 on a mission of some importance: Old Hugh Glass. It is unlikely that Sublette and Jackson knew about Hugh’s trip; it boded ill for them. Hugh, by way of the Bighorn and Yellowstone, made his way down to the spanking—new Fort Floyd [soon to be known as Fort Union] at the confluence of the Yellowstone and Missouri. Here Glass talked to one of the shrewdest men ever seen in the fur trade, the formidable Kenneth McKenzie, now working for J
ohn Jacob Astor and American Fur. Glass was a delegate without portfolio from the free trappers at Rendezvous 1828, who had apparently conceived the notion that prices might be lowered by a little competition. McKenzie was invited to bring supplies into the mountains after the spring hunt of ’29, and the free trappers would consider the merits of his outfit. This trip casts a long shadow in the history of the trade, as it is the first stirring of the terrible competition that was about to descend. How McKenzie came to be at the mouth of the Yellowstone in an American Fur Company fort is a complex story, which will be dealt with a little later in the body of this narrative.)
During his stay in St. Louis Sublette gave Ashley as complete information as he could about the state of the trade. Including the anecdote of Tulloch and Ogden, and as much data on the operations of HBC as he had. Much of this Ashley worked into letters; and usually for the purpose of demonstrating the evil influence of HBC in the West.
Ashley was profoundly involved with the politics of the country’s westward expansion. Through his contacts in the trade, such as Sublette in this winter of ’28-’29, he was kept informed of happenings in the mountains and came to be regarded as the principal source of news from the territory west of the Missouri. He wrote frequently to another great advocate of the West, Thomas Hart Benton, including with his factual information various detailed recommendations for action to be taken by the government. His principal concern at this time was military protection for possible migrants to Oregon. Ashley felt there was no possibility of making a successful mass move to the west until the government was able to set up—and maintain—a sufficient military establishment to offer her citizens protection against the Indians en route and the avaricious British forces already established in the Oregon country. By which he meant, of course, HBC. From the mountain grist Ashley’s mill ground out a remarkable flow of propaganda, which probably had a somewhat greater effect on the attitude of the United States toward Oregon than it has generally been credited with.
***
While Sublette was in St. Louis disposing of the company’s furs, the Fall '28 trapping parties were out. To some extent we can follow two of these.
Davey Jackson took a brigade up the west slope, into the Flathead country. He had with him Tom Fitzpatrick and an unrecorded number of men. For four months this party worked slowly north, probably following Henry’s fork of the Snake, crossing the divide to the Three Forks area, and ending at last on the shores of Flathead Lake. They reached the lake by the first part of December, and settled in for the winter. Apparently the returns of the hunt had not been good.
By the time they reached Flathead Lake—within the sphere of two HBC posts: Flathead House and Fort Colvile—the party was low on provisions, and they had to trade half their meager catch to HBC.
On his way north Jackson was followed by Joshua Pilcher. Pilcher, with nine men, was making one last attempt to stay in business. Rendezvous 1828 had not been profitable for him, naturally, since so many of his goods had been lost (see note 1, ch. ll). Two of his principal partners, Vanderburgh and Fontenelle, had returned to St. Louis in company with Bill Sublette’s 75-man caravan; as far as they were concerned, the partnership was bust. (Vanderburgh apparently combined with another of the erstwhile Pilchermen, Drips, for a short time, but it didn’t last. All three of these men later entered into an arrangement with American Fur.)
Pilcher later wrote that he left Rendezvous 1828 on a "tour to the northwest, with the view of exploring the region of the Columbia river, to ascertain the attractions and capabilities for trade."
By the time he reached Flathead Lake Pilcher had conceived a new idea; potentially profitable, if not entirely above-board. We know of this notion only through the reception it met. On December 30—the day after Jedediah Smith finished his arrangements at Fort Vancouver—Pilcher wrote Governor George Simpson. Simpson’s reply of February 18,
1829, makes Pilcher’s idea clear:
I am aware that the Country watered by the sources of the Missouri, usually known by the name of the "Black Feet Country" is a rich preserve of Beaver, and that a well organized Trading and Trapping Party would in all probability make valuable returns therein.. . . [I] would therefore readily entertain your proposition . . . if a difficulty of a formidable character did not present itself, which is the Teiritorial rights of the United States Government to that Country. These rights, we as British Subjects cannot infringe openly, and although the protecting Laws of your Government might be successfully evaded by the plans you suggest still I do not think it would be reputable in the Hon. Hudsons Bay Co to make use of indirect means to acquire possession of a Trade to which it has no just claim. Under those circumstances I cannot fall in with your views and as regards Mr Ogden he cannot without acting in direct opposition to his instructions cross the height of Land.
The winter of '28-'29, what with one thing and another, was a most honorable season for the Honourable Company.
The second traceable party was that of Robert Campbell, now a knowledgeable and experienced mountain man of twenty-four. Campbell had left St. Louis with one of Ashley's early parties, as previously noted here, and his star had been rising now for three years. His mountain sojourn restored his health, and he managed to stay on for ten years. Campbell’s background was somewhat different from that of most of the mountain men. He had behind him an Irish estate of some considerable extent and a family lineage he could well be proud of. His brother, Hugh, was a respected Philadelphia merchant; judging from his correspondence, a most urbane and polished gentleman in whom the family ties were extremely strong. His letters to Robert are warm and affectionate, and through them all runs,one consistent thread: leave the mountains and come home. For all his mountain time Robert was entreated by various members of his family to return to civilization and take up respectable life again. Still he managed to put it off for one reason or another, even though he professed to be anxious to return.
Among the thirty trappers Campbell commanded in the fall of ’28 were Jim Bridger and James P. Beckwourth. From the latter of the Jameses we learn that Campbell’s party was organized to work the Powder River area, which had been relatively untouched in recent years. After the first of the Bear Lake rendezvous, Smith Jackson & Sublette had pretty much confined their operations to the western slope of the Rockies; or at any rate no farther east than Wind River. But this, as noted, had proved expensive. Bug’s Boys were depressingly energetic in that area and all the way north. The eastern slope of the divide, on the other hand, was generally Crow territory; as such the trappers might be in danger of losing their horses, but their lives were considerably safer. This may have been one of the reasons for the slight shift eastward. Another possibly persuasive argument was that the Snake country was being trapped out. Between HBC’s deliberate effort to wipe it clean and the less-purposeful but equally effective American depredations, the Snake country was losing its appeal. There may have been smaller detached parties working west from Bear Lake, but the major movements were Jackson’s—due north—and Campbell’s—northeast.
Campbell’s brigade probably moved east across South Pass, skirting the southern end of the Wind River Mountains. From there they worked up to the Wind River, which they reached by the first of the new year. Moving north down the Bighorn they reached the Yellowstone proper, followed it downstream to the Powder, and made their spring ’29 hunt on the upper reaches of that river.
The only date and location we can be sure of is January 6, when they were on Wind River. During this month Smith Jackson & Sublette lost the services of one of the greatest heroes ever seen in the mountains, but there seems to be some difference of opinion as to just how it happened. This is the story, in the version given by James P. Beckwourth himself:
It seems that one of the trappers, Caleb Greenwood, had a Crow wife. This being the case, it devolved upon Mrs. Greenwood and spouse to tell the Crows all about the great victory over the Blackfeet preceding Rendezvous 1828. By James P. Beckwourth’s
account, Greenwood eventually "became tired of so much questioning" (which strikes a true note; the Indian curiosity about such things was absolutely insatiable, and Greenwood could have been expected to act out every single incident of the battle, and make up those he didn’t observe directly).
In order to relieve his boredom, Caleb invented a little tale to amuse himself and the Crows, to wit: Once upon a time the Cheyennes kidnapped the baby son of a Crow chief . . .raised the child as a great warrior . . . heroic feats, etc .... bought by the whites . . . heroic feats, etc .... and when the Crows were sufficiently open-mouthed about the whole thing, Greenwood let them have it. That little boy, he said, grew up to be none other than James P. Beckwourth.
This was great stuff, and the Crows immediately demanded James P. for their very own. This was declined, and the Indians went back "to spread their tale of wonderment" throughout the tribe.
Now, on the Wind River, comes the action for which Greenwood’s fabrication merely set the stage. It seems that Bridger and Beckwourth, out on a hunt, separated to set traps on two forks of a stream. While thus alone, James P. suddenly found himself "among an innumerable drove of horses":
. . . I could plainly see they were not wild ones. The horses were guarded by several of their Indian owners, or horse-guards, as they term them, who had discovered me long before I saw them. I could hear their signals to each other, and in a few moments I was surrounded by them, and escape was impossible.,
They were Crows, naturally, and James P. was taken to the village where he was subjected to what he calls (in italics) the "examining comrnittee." At last he was identified positively as the missing prince, so to speak, by a mole on his left eyelid. There was great rejoicing, since James P. Beckwourth’s fame. was well known all over the mountains and the Crows considered themselves fortunate indeed to have acquired such a mighty warrior. He was welcomed "with a public reception fully equal in intensity, though not in extravagence, to that accorded to the victor of Waterloo on his triumphal entry into Paris." . .
