CHAPTER XII.

VOYAGE OF 1843.

The voyage of 1843 is known in more complete detail than any other in the history of the river. There are two complete journals of it--the Sire logbook, just referred to, and the published journal of the great naturalist, Audubon, who was one of the passengers. Captain La Barge himself gave the present author his full recollections of the trip. There were in all about one hundred passengers, besides some Indians returning to their country from a visit to St. Louis. The passenger list included the usual picturesque variety, but its most conspicuous and noteworthy feature was, of course, the presence of Audubon and his party of scientists. Captain Joseph Sire was master of the boat and Captain La Barge pilot.

The _Omega_ left St. Louis April 25, 1843. Along the lower course of the river the voyage was more than ordinarily difficult. The waters were high and the bottoms were badly overflowed, making shore excursions very unpleasant. The current was strong and the winds so severe and constant that the boat had to lie at the bank for several hours nearly every day. These delays were improved by the boat crew in procuring wood, and by the scientists in studying the country.

[Sidenote: AN INDISPENSABLE ARTICLE.]

No incident worthy of particular mention occurred until the boat reached Bellevue, a few miles below the modern site of Omaha, Neb. The importation of liquor into the Indian country was prohibited under the severest penalties, and inspectors were stationed at Leavenworth and Bellevue to examine all cargoes bound up the river. Now it so happened that liquor was the one article above all others that the traders considered indispensable to their business, and they never failed to smuggle it through in some way or other. In the earlier years there was only one place at which the cargoes going up the river were inspected, and that was Fort Leavenworth. Later, when an Indian agency was established at Bellevue, that place also became a point of detention. At this particular time it was the _bête noire_ of the American Fur Company traders. The military authorities at Fort Leavenworth, from long experience in the country and intimate knowledge of conditions prevailing there, exercised their office as inspectors with reasonable judgment and discretion. They understood very well that the small competing traders would smuggle liquor past them in spite of all they could do, and that to deprive the only responsible company on the river of its means of maintaining itself was simply to debauch the trade with the Indians to a reckless and demoralizing rivalry among a horde of irresponsible traders. They were therefore very lenient in their inspections, and the company rarely had any difficulty in getting past them.

[Sidenote: A ZEALOUS CLERGYMAN.]

Not so, however, with some of the newly appointed Indian agents. It was about this time that the Indian Department tried the experiment of assigning clergymen to the agencies--an example of good intentions but bad judgment. These new agents showed more zeal than discretion in their work, and although they put the traders to a great deal of trouble, it is doubtful if they lessened by a single drop the amount of liquor carried into the country.

On the occasion of the voyage of 1843 the agent at Bellevue happened to be absent from his station when the boat arrived. Elated at this unexpected good fortune, Captain Sire lost no time in putting off the freight destined for this point and in getting on his way. He pursued his voyage until nine o’clock that evening, and doubtless felicitated himself that he was out of danger. But it appears that the agent had delegated the function of inspector during his absence to the commander of the United States troops in the vicinity. The boat left her mooring at daylight next morning, but had scarcely gotten under way when a couple of rifle shots were fired across her bow. She brought to at once and made for the shore. There Captain Sire found a lieutenant in charge of a few dragoons, who had come from his camp four miles distant. The young officer came on board and presented to Captain Sire a polite note from Captain Burgwin, commander of the camp, stating that his orders required him to inspect the boat before letting her proceed.

[Sidenote: A DASH OF COLD WATER.]

This was like a dash of cold water to the buoyant spirits of Captain Sire, and none the less so to Audubon, to whom, as well as to the company, the loss of the liquid portion of the cargo would have been irreparable. The naturalist had a permit from the government to carry with him a quantity of liquor for the use of himself and party, and upon showing his credentials to the young officer he was, to use his own words, “immediately settled comfortably.” But in the moment of his good fortune he did not forget his companions who were not yet “settled comfortably.” He understood that time was required to prepare for the approaching function, and he could at least help to secure this time by delaying inspection as long as possible. He accordingly expressed a desire to visit the camp, and the lieutenant detailed a dragoon to accompany him. The great naturalist rode four miles to call upon an obscure army officer whom he knew he could see in a short time by waiting at the boat. The officer was overwhelmed at the honor of the visit, and when Audubon offered to present his credentials he politely and gallantly replied that his name was too well known throughout the United States to require any letters. Audubon says of the occasion: “I was on excellent and friendly terms in less time than it has taken me to write this account of our meeting.” Between his entertaining conversation and the shooting of some birds he contrived to detain the Captain for a good two hours before they returned to the boat.

[Sidenote: THE TRAMWAY IN THE HOLD.]

The time had not been wasted by Captain Sire and his loyal crew. The shallow hold of the steamboat of those days was divided lengthwise into two compartments by a partition or bulkhead running the full length of the boat. A narrow-gauge tramway extended down each side of the hold its entire length, the two sides connecting with each other by a curve which passed under the hatchway in the forecastle. Small cars received the cargo let down through the hatchway, and carried it to its place in the hold or brought it out again when the boat was being unloaded. A car could pass from the stern of the boat on one side of the hold around the curve in the bow and to the stern of the boat on the other side. There being no windows in the hold, everything was buried in blackness a few feet from the hatchway. Workmen were lighted to their labors by means of candles.

During the absence of Audubon the crew had loaded all the liquor upon the cars, and had run them down on one side of the hold far enough from the hatchway to be entirely concealed in the darkness. They were carefully instructed in the part they had to play in the approaching comedy, and very likely were put through a preliminary rehearsal or two.

[Sidenote: THE VIRTUOUS SIRE.]

When Captain Burgwin arrived in Audubon’s company, he was received most hospitably and treated to a luncheon, in which was included, as a matter of course, a generous portion from the private store embraced in Audubon’s “credentials.” By this time the young Captain was in most excellent temper and was quite disposed to forego the inspection altogether. But the virtuous Sire would not have it so. “I insisted, as it were,” says the worthy navigator in his log of May 10, “that he make the strictest possible search, but upon the condition that he would do the same with other traders.”[21]

[Sidenote: A FAIR PROPOSITION.]

A proposition so eminently fair was at once agreed to by the inspector, whose mellow faculties were now in a most accommodating condition. The shrewd steamboat master, who never forgot to be sober when his company’s interests were at stake, escorted the officer down the hatchway, and together they groped their way along the hold by the light of a not too brilliant candle. It may be imagined with what zeal the scrupulous Captain thrust the ineffectual flame into every nook and corner, and even insisted that the inspector move a box or bale now and then to assure himself that everything was all right.

Arrived at the foot of the hold, they passed through an opening and started back on the other side. The officer was doubtless too much absorbed with the effects of his recent collation to notice the glimmer of light under the hatchway at the other end of the boat, where a miniature train with its suspicious cargo was creeping stealthily around the curve and disappearing toward the side which they had just left. The party finished their inspection, and everything was found quite as it should be. With many protestations of good will the clever hosts and their delighted guest parted company, and the good Captain Sire went on his way rejoicing. But woe to the luckless craft of some rival trader which should happen along with no Audubon in the cabin and no tramway in the hold.[22]

The ordeal of inspection being over, the boat proceeded on her way with no further drawbacks than those arising from the various hindrances to navigation. One of the disagreeable features of the trip above the mouth of the Big Sioux River was the vast number of dead buffalo that were encountered. They had been drowned on the upper river at the time of the spring break-up in attempting to cross the ice after it became too weak. Their bodies had then floated downstream and had lodged all along the river on sandbars, islands, or the low shores. Some time having elapsed since they were drowned, their flesh was now in a condition that rendered the air almost insupportable.

[Sidenote: AN INDIAN ATTACK.]

An incident which caused considerable excitement, but luckily no misfortune, occurred at Handy’s Point (where Fort Randall later stood) on the 22d of May. A band of eight or ten Santee Indians, apparently angered because the boat would not stop for them, opened fire upon it from the bank. The bullets tore through the cabins and pilot-house, but by the greatest good luck no one was hurt. A Scotchman who was asleep in his bunk was awakened and terribly frightened by one of the bullets which entered his berth, passing through his pantaloons, and flattening itself against a trunk. Audubon saved two of the spent bullets as relics. He was himself standing near one of the chimneys and saw a bullet splash in the water just in front of the boat. Considering the large number of people on board, the escape of everyone was almost miraculous.

[Sidenote: CAREFUL OF HIS EYESIGHT.]

Captain La Barge was at the wheel at the time. In the pilot-house with him was a French negro from Louisiana named Jacques Desiré, always known as Black Dave. He was an excellent pilot and was on board with a crew to return with the steamboat _Trapper_, which had been left up the river the previous autumn on account of low water. When the bullet crashed through the pilot-house Black Dave walked quietly out and took shelter behind one of the smokestacks, where he remained until the boat was well away from the scene of the attack. Captain La Barge asked him why he did not remain in the pilot-house, so as to be ready to take the wheel in case he himself were disabled. Dave replied that it was not the fear of bullets that drove him away, but that his eyesight was all he had to make his living by, and he was afraid of its getting injured by the flying glass.

[Sidenote: AN UNPOPULAR PASSENGER.]

As may readily be understood, a feature of first importance on this trip was the presence of so distinguished a passenger as the naturalist Audubon. The impression which the celebrated scientist made upon the crew and those who were entertaining him was quite unfavorable. He was very reserved, and when he did hold intercourse with members of the crew it was generally in an overbearing manner which alienated their good will. It thus resulted that his hunters rendered him inefficient service, and his journal is full of complaints at their failure to keep their promises. Certain personal habits aggravated this defect, and altogether he was not a popular traveler with the crew.

Captain La Barge mentions several instances of his ill treatment, one of which concerned himself, and is here given in his own words, as he once prepared them for publication in the _Missouri Republican_:

[Sidenote: THE BLACK SQUIRREL.]

“On one occasion he [Audubon] asked me if I had ever seen any black squirrels during my voyages on the upper Missouri River. My answer was that I had often killed them. ‘Do you know what a black squirrel is?’ he asked. I replied that I knew what I called a black squirrel, and would try to get him one at the first opportunity. A few days later we were windbound. Seeing that we would be compelled to remain tied to the bank most of the day I took my gun and started around to look for a black squirrel. I was fortunate. I ran across a very fine one and shot him. He proved to be a fine large buck. I brought him aboard. The first person I met was Mr. Bell, taxidermist of the Audubon party, who remarked, after examining the squirrel, that it was certainly a very fine specimen. He called Mr. Audubon’s attention to it, who examined the animal carefully, and then said to me: ‘_That_ is what you call a black squirrel, is it? I expected as much. It is very strange that people born and raised in a country do not know the names of the animals and birds which it produces.’ After the squirrel had been thus criticised for some time, I remarked that I would take it down to the cook and have it baked for dinner. ‘No, no!’ said Mr. Audubon, ‘Mr. Bell will take care of it’; and then walked off.

“Some few days after this one of his assistants called to me to show me a painting that Mr. Audubon had finished that morning. This was after dinner, as Mr. Audubon had always to retire to his stateroom after that meal and have his long afternoon nap. The assistant took advantage of this opportunity to show me some of the drawings which Mr. Audubon was opposed to our seeing. On entering the room I saw the drawing of the squirrel just finished, and certainly I never saw anything representing life so strikingly. The assistant then told me that Mr. Audubon had remarked that it was the best specimen of a black squirrel that he had ever painted.”

[Sidenote: THE OVER-WISE BOTANIST.]

[Sidenote: A KERNEL OF CORN.]

The crew soon lost a good deal of the deference and respect which were justly due to individuals of such scientific attainments as were those of the Audubon party; and it is to be feared that they played pranks on them now and then which they would have avoided with people of more congenial manner. Etienne Provost was serving as guide to the party. No one in that day knew the Western country better than he, and he was quite astonished when Mr. Prou, Audubon’s botanist, said to him one day that he could tell the name of any plant in that country from the leaf and stalk, even if he had never seen it growing. “You may think so,” said Provost, “but I will undertake to prove that you are mistaken; for I know a plant that grows in this country whose name you will not be able to tell, even with the aid of your books.” Soon afterward the boat landed to take on wood near the mouth of the Cheyenne River. A band of Indians had spent the previous winter near by and had dropped some of their corn on the ground. This was now well sprouted and the tender blades were just shooting up. Provost carefully cut the ground around a spear of the corn so as not to disturb the roots or the kernel, which was still attached thereto. He deftly concealed everything except one leaf and then showed it to Mr. Prou. The eager scientist was looking for some test of a formidable character, and anything like corn did not even occur to him. It is doubtful if he realized at the time that corn was grown in that country. He racked his brain for a plant that he could identify with the specimen. He grew nervous under the scrutiny of the on-lookers that had gathered around him. Taking his book, he searched back and forth, but to no purpose. It was indeed a new species, and he finally acknowledged himself beaten. Provost then, with provoking gravity, pulled away the dirt around the roots and finally disclosed to the astonished scientist--a kernel of _corn_.

Above Omaha the boat made its way with more than usual speed and good luck to its destination. It reached Fort Pierre May 31 and Fort Union at sundown June 12. It left Fort Union June 14, reached Pierre June 21, and St. Louis June 29. The time consumed was forty-nine days from St. Louis to Fort Union and seventeen days returning. Mr. Audubon and party remained at Fort Union until autumn, returning in a mackinaw boat.