by Gar LaSalle
—1858 Report by Captain George E. Pickett to General William S. Harney, Commander U.S. Army, Oregon Territory
They would attempt to take this easy beach, he had decided. It presented a gentle slope with hard-packed sand. The Brit marines would run up it quickly once landed, so he had to commandeer the highest perch above and, from that promontory, would lob an artillery barrage to impede their progress.
Gossip and spies had told him the Brits were indeed preparing for a takeover, ostensibly to protect the rights of the twenty English subjects who lived on the island, but everyone knew that was a Douglas ruse. He wanted San Juan Island for its strategic value, as did the U.S. Government.
But the Brits would not get it without a stubborn fight from Captain George Pickett.
Although he was not to provoke an attack nor fire the first shot, Pickett had his orders. General Harney had dispatched Pickett to hold the island at all costs, even if it meant war between the two nations.
The cold south wind pushed over the long spine that ran from this well-situated parapet to the tip of the island, and even in the murky remains of this day, Pickett could see the entire field of future combat.
He saw where the Brit frigates likely would drop anchor, positioning their guns for devastating broadsides against his troops and whatever position he had staked out. Sound carried well in the quiet of the early morning, so he imagined he could hear the faint clank of chains and the rubbing squeak of ropes on pulleys as their landing boats made their way down to the water.
He heard the shouts of their marine captains ordering the disciplined disposition of their hard men. These would not be children like the Mexican cadets or the peasants conscripted into uniform that he had faced in Veracruz and Churubusco, scurrying backward, brave but undisciplined in their rout. They would be seasoned and mean-hearted Royal Marines.
They would most certainly land, take their losses, and determinedly push his equally determined but much smaller company of men down and away from this position.
Both sides would suffer.
He pulled his slicker closer as the wind bit into his neck. He wished he were in Mexico again.
After an hour of mapping and marking, Pickett called up Lieutenant Henry Martyn Robert from the beach below. “I believe this is the best place to be, Henry. Can your howitzers hit the beach from here?”
Robert, only one year out of West Point, shook his head, then looked again through his field glass to be certain.
“No, Captain. We will likely need to land some of the thirty-two-pounders from the Massachusetts. Before it moves away to get out of reach of their frigates. If the reports are correct, they are sending three big ships.”
Robert was often hesitant but punctilious and almost always right. Pickett simply nodded his head slowly. He knew he would be outgunned and outnumbered. He was determined not to be outdone.
As he watched his lieutenant walk back down to the south beach to await the landing of more supplies, Pickett said aloud to himself, “Let them come. We’ll make another bloody Bunker Hill of it.”
Pickett drifted for a bit. He found himself back in Virginia, where even now, in this early March, color was beginning to show through on crocus-covered afternoons. He saw himself riding down a long lane and paying his respects to some fine young woman and her parents, securing a place and position for himself out of uniform, a dandy gentleman of means.
At last.
She would be a red-haired filly or a black Irish high-bred dame.
He closed his eyes and, for a brief moment, tasted the minted cool juleps that quelled the heaviness of Richmond summer afternoons, so far away from the cutting bite of the whiskey from Frisco that he and so many others in his command had as a meager resort to the cold and boredom of the Northwest. Even here on verdant San Juan, only a few miles by sea from the supplies and excitement of Victoria, he envisioned no relief.
So he pulled his slicker even closer and bowed his head slightly to let the light rain fall off the brim of his cap.
And then he thought of Emmy Evers.
She was there in his dream, walking right by him, turning her head ever so slightly, telling him she knew he was there, watching her every step and nuanced gesture. His heart began running double-time, and he felt it deeply pounding up through his neck and into his face. He could feel that his face was flushed, and he opened his eyes, and she was there and then she was not.
And he wondered if she needed him; he wanted her to need him, but she would never be his and would dismiss him for his arrogant presumptuousness. So, in his dream, she just went on, and he was back in the rain, which was in his shirt and on his back now.
It was not a good place to die.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
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Ksi Amawaal
Ksi Amawaal Sityaawt Gatgyet was widely known to be a very wealthy tyee, so many saw his widely broadcast invitation to this potlatch as a great opportunity—for the longstanding tradition in the region was that potlatch guests received gifts, and a tyee’s wealth and power were measured by how much he gave away.
In the entire Northwest, Ksi Amawaal was the most magnanimous of all the chieftains. And when the Americans spoke of their presidents or the Brits about Victoria, the Tsimshian sneered because their tyee could not be surpassed in their minds. Thus, clan chiefs arrived from areas as far away as the Queen Charlottes and Nootka, many curious and many envious.
To one accustomed to tribal confrontation and protectionism, or to a European concept of ostentation, the wealth displayed by the Tsimshian at Three Spirits was astounding, and most wondered how they had achieved and maintained it. The answer was straightforward. Ksi Amawaal had created a well-maintained, neutral platform for trade, affording protection to everyone who entered. And at this potlatch, every one of the guests brought along goods that might be exchanged in a common market that would develop throughout the encampments.
The Tsimshian were healthy, numerous, well armed, and protective of that peace because Ksi Amawaal had long ago shown them how they would prosper if they could act as intermediaries and facilitators rather than as combatants. And observing the disruption to customs and the uniqueness of his tribe’s heritage that always ensued after the arrival of even the most well-meaning of interlopers, he tactfully kept missionaries out.
Thus, Ksi Amawaal’s people had avoided some plagues that had beset tribes closer to the coast. He had also learned to keep his tribe away from the pain of the scourges by listening to gossip from traders and quarantining anyone who appeared for trading during the pestilence. And when the opportunity arose to give cowpox pus to immunize his tribe, he had taken the first inoculation as a demonstration of its power.
Jojo had presented himself as a lone emissary from his father MaNuitu ’sta, on behalf of Emmy, whom he kept hidden with Sarah, encamped deep in the cedar woods to the north of Three Spirits.
When Ksi Amawaal had heard Jojo’s eloquent description of Emmy’s quest, he understood immediately what he had to do to protect the women and wealth that would come from a skillful negotiation with the Northerners.
Alerted by Tsimshian runners who had the ability to move through their woods much faster than canoes traversed up the river, Ksi Amawaal knew the renegades were approaching, dressed as Kwakiutl. He had distaste for headhunters because of the havoc they continued to bring to white victims, and because the Brits and Americans, who could not distinguish one tribe from another, often brought indiscriminate retribution to many tribes, including his own. Ksi Amawaal knew of several misdirected lynchings that had been the consequence of predatory raids on white settlers. The Americans were even less discerning than the Brits, it seemed, so he knew he had to keep his people wary of both white tribes.
And as much as he would have liked to strike the raiders down as they moved in disguise into the Three Spirits, he would need to see th
e negotiation proceed in order to affect an open trade between the supplicant and sellers.
It was not his way to see blood spilled on Tsimshian rivers because that only dampened profitable exchange and brought bad luck. So Ksi Amawaal waited. And in the hours before the Northerners moved in, he discussed terms with Jojo; negotiated with several other tyees about slaves, tools, and contraband; and prepared his camp for the many feasts that would continue over the next few days.
The whiskey that Marté brought, however, complicated the affair, and by the time Anah arrived, many of the Tsimshian guardians were incapacitated. It would be a very dangerous negotiation.
Chapter Thirty-eight
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Jojo, Anah and Ksi Amawaal
Jojo took a circuitous route back to the encampment where Emmy and Sarah waited with the gold, doubling back several times to look for tracks other than his own.
He found a stranger’s footprints on the second pass and knew that someone was following. So he moved far away from Emmy back into the Three Spirits.
When he found a small stream, he backtracked in his own footsteps to a heavily branched tree. Using a long, sturdy branch, he vaulted over a bramble thicket and hid in the underbrush waiting for the tracker.
He finally showed.
It was Cull, making his way carefully, both knives drawn.
Jojo watched the huge man tracking in the long afternoon shadows of the forest, his head tilted to the ground with his blind eye turned upward.
Jojo held his breath as he watched Cull pass slowly down toward the stream. He knew if he were to have to fight Cull, he would have to move constantly to the man’s left blind side, but he also surmised that Cull had survived as long as he had by being very adept at killing with the two long ugly blades and knew many tricks that had surprised many unfortunate men.
Jojo cocked his second pistol carefully.
After ten minutes, Cull returned from the stream, inspecting the tracks. He stopped near the tree and looked right up the trunk into the dense foliage to where Jojo had considered hiding.
Jojo held his breath.
Finally, Cull turned away from the tree, spit, and sheathed his knives. He departed back toward the main camps.
Cull had likely given up because, in the waning light, his one eye had not seen the mark from the vaulting pole Jojo had used. But it was evident to Jojo that his tracker was experienced, and he would have to be very careful. He knew Cull would have found him had he tracked earlier in the day.
Jojo emerged and carefully followed Cull for a half mile to be certain the man was truly departing. He then swiftly moved back through the woods and found Emmy and Sarah.
He told them about Cull and said he had learned the Northerners had arrived in camp, and had brought several slaves with them, including a young white boy. But he didn’t know if was Jacob.
Seeing Emmy and Sarah’s excitement at the news, he tried to calm them and make them understand the danger they were now in.
“I will need to move you from here now and bring you closer in to Ksi Amawaal.”
“What was his decision?“ Emmy asked, hoping Jojo had been correct about the Tsimshian tyee.
“As I thought, he has agreed to be the negotiator in return for half of the gold. He does not want anything else and does not want any disruption to the potlatch.”
Seeing Emmy’s hopes rising, Jojo continued. “As soon as he has concluded the negotiation, however, Missus Evers, we are on our own and will need to move to the canoes and leave before Marté or the Northerners find us.”
“Do the Northerners know we are here?” Emmy asked. “I don’t know why, but Marté has not told them yet; otherwise, there would have been Haida looking for you with Cull.”
Emmy and Sarah both nodded.
“If I return with Jacob, we will need to move farther upstream and wait for this weather to turn bad again.”
“Why?” Sarah asked.
Jojo saw Emmy’s eyes widen when he mentioned Jacob again, but knew she did not understand his plan either.
“If Marté tells them about us — and he will at some point — then the Northerners will come looking for us. If they know about us before the negotiation, they will spread out through this forest looking for you. If Jacob is there and Marté tells them after the negotiation, and Ksi Amawaal is successful, the Haida will come looking for us to take Jacob back.”
Jojo could see that Emmy understood now.
“They will expect us to try to escape west, down the river to Fort Simpson. When some time has passed, they should give up, and we will leave the canoes and move by land back to the fort.”
“And if you do not bring Jacob back?” Emmy asked hesitantly.
“Then Ksi Amawaal failed in the negotiations, or he is not among the captives.” Jojo looked down, then back up at Emmy.
“Or Jacob is dead.”
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊
The words struck Emmy in the gut and her heart at the same time. She recovered her composure and jutted her chin forward to contain a desperate urge to weep.
Then, with a bravado, she said, “And if he is there and Ksi Amawaal fails in his negotiations. Then what?”
The intensity of her stare must have given her away, for Jojo shook his head.
“Following them would be very dangerous, Mrs. Evers. They will be looking for us anyway, and we could fall right into their hands.”
Their gazes locked, hers determined and his beseeching.
Finally, Jojo sighed and then nodded. “If he is there, I will do my best to win him back for you.”
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊
On the next morning, it began to rain hard, so many people stayed inside their shelters and long houses. That continued most of the day, and by mid-afternoon, many were drunk on Marté’s liquor.
Shortly before dark, Anah, heralded by Klixuatan and leading the tethered gifts of two adolescent slaves, presented himself as “Taxcilsi’ Na,” a Kwakiutl tyee, to the Tsimshian chieftain.
Ksi Amawaal’s younger brother received them and waived the entourage into the long house.
Anah seemed stunned by the wealth displayed—beautiful furs and sculptures, delicately stitched wall hangings, abundant food, and many beautiful metal hammerings.
A few minutes later, Ksi Amawaal, bedecked in a multicolored and feathered ceremonial gown, entered from a side portal accompanied by five other tyees from Tsimshian and Bella Coola clans, all of whom were also beautifully dressed.
By comparison, the Northerners had only their tattoos and shell labrets with simple clothing designed for rapid travel.
Ksi Amawaal bade them all to sit facing each other on long ornately carved and sanded cedar plank benches. In the murkiness of the smoke-filled room, Anah and Ksi Amawaal measured each other. Neither blinked. Then Klixuatan stepped forward and addressed Ksi Amawaal in the Tsimshian dialect.
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Jojo, who had entered with Ksi Amawaal’s group but kept to the rear of the contingent, studied Anah’s entourage intently. The shaman’s pronunciation and accent were so bad that it made Jojo smile at his clumsiness. It almost made him forget, for a moment, that the old man, like everyone in his group, was a brutal killer.
“Mighty Ksi Sityaawt Amawaal, I speak for my leader Taxcilsi’ Na, in giving you praise for being a powerful tyee. He gives you these strong young women as a tribute to you and your family and your daughter who is joining you with the Bella Coola.”
As Jojo watched, it was apparent that Anah did not understand everything his shaman was saying, but Ksi Amawaal did.
He bowed to Anah, and Anah bowed slightly back. Klixuatan went on.
“We are here to trade, with your blessing, with other tyees or Tsimshian and Bella Coola who might have need,” Klixuatan indicated the slaves, “for what we bri
ng.”
Ksi Amawaal nodded, then looked toward the door. Klixuatan turned to one of the younger men in the Northerners’ company who stepped outside and then reentered with eight tethered captives. Jacob was the last to be led in the door.
Jojo recognized him immediately and saw that Ksi Amawaal did as well.
The negotiation proceeded just as Jojo had predicted to Emmy. For all eight of the captives, Ksi Amawaal first offered a variety of gifts, including the items that Emmy and Jojo had ferried up the river.
Klixuatan, without conferring with Anah, immediately rejected that offer.
Then Ksi Amawaal conferred with his younger brother and two of the Tsimshian tyees. He turned back to Anah and offered the equivalent of two hundred U.S. gold dollars for all the captives.
That caused Klixuatan to pause and confer with Anah, who held back even then, rejecting the offer.
Ksi Amawaal feigned disappointment but again consulted with his tyees.
Ksi Amawaal turned to Klixuatan and held up four fingers, doubling the offer.
Anah looked over his slaves and shook his head again.
On cue, Ksi Amawaal turned one more time to his conferees, then, after a brief discussion, back to Klixuatan. He pointed to Jacob and held up four fingers.
Jojo held his breath during the long pause that ensued. He recognized that when Anah and Klixuatan saw this offer, they knew immediately that Ksi Amawaal had perceived the value of Jacob.
Jojo expected more haggling, but instead the Northerners shook their heads, stood up, and walked out of the negotiation, taking their captives with them.
Jojo had not anticipated this reaction. Did Anah and Klixuatan believe Jacob had some special magic? Unfortunately, Ksi Amawaal’s bargaining had confirmed their fears. Perhaps they believed selling Jacob would confer to someone else a power they did not yet understand but needed to harness.
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊
Anah made his way back to his encampment, apoplectic at the encounter. Screaming loudly to Klixuatan, he instructed the shaman to bind Jacob again and then attempt to sell the remaining captives for as much gold as he could get from whomever was willing in the entire encampment.
