CHAPTER XVI.

INCIDENTS ON THE RIVER (1851–53).

The _St. Ange_ left St. Louis on her voyage to Fort Union for the American Fur Company, June 7, 1851. She had on board about one hundred passengers, mostly employees of the Company. The cabin list included two distinguished Jesuit missionaries, Father Christian Hoecken and Father De Smet, bound for the Rocky Mountains.

[Sidenote: CHOLERA BREAKS OUT.]

The spring had been particularly backward and wet, and the Missouri was in one of its most dangerous floods. The whole bottom country was overflowed, and the river looked like a floating mass of débris of every description. Navigation, though relieved of the danger from snags, was much impeded by these floating obstructions, and the gathering of fuel was unusually difficult. The overflowed condition of the country made it malarial and unhealthy--as bad as possible for a year when the cholera was abroad in the land. Sickness in one form or another soon appeared among the passengers. In a little while the vessel, according to Father De Smet, resembled a floating hospital, and a feeling of gloom fell over the passengers. Father De Smet himself was seized with a bilious fever which completely prostrated him, and for a time his recovery was doubtful. When about five hundred miles up the river the cholera broke out. A clerk of the American Fur Company was the first victim, and from that time on for the next few days there were several deaths every day. The situation was a terrible one, and oppressed passengers and crew alike with the most dismal forebodings.

There was a physician on board of the name of Dr. Evans, a distinguished scientist who was making the voyage in the interests of the Smithsonian Institution. He did everything in his power to allay the plague. Father De Smet was too ill to do anything, but Father Hoecken worked incessantly, caring for the sick and watching over their spiritual needs. This heroic priest won the hearts of the passengers by his untiring labors in their behalf; but he so completely exhausted himself that he had no reserve strength to combat the disease if it should attack himself. He seemed everywhere at once, like a ministering angel, and Father De Smet earnestly besought him to spare himself somewhat or he would not hold out. Father De Smet’s condition was so serious that he had asked Father Hoecken to receive his confession; but the latter did not think his brother in immediate danger, and hastened to the bedsides of those who were in a more precarious condition. In the midst of his unselfish labors the zealous missionary was himself stricken. Father De Smet thus records the sad story of his death:

[Sidenote: DEATH OF FATHER HOECKEN.]

“Between one and two o’clock at night, when all on board was calm and silent, and the sick in their wakefulness heard naught but the sighs and moans of their fellow-sufferers, the voice of Father Hoecken was suddenly heard. He was calling me to his assistance. Awaking from a deep sleep, I recognized his voice, and dragged myself to his pillow. Ah, me! I found him ill and even in extremity. He asked me to hear his confession: I at once acquiesced in his desire. Dr. Evans, a physician of great experience and remarkable charity, endeavored to relieve him, and watched by him, but his care and remedies proved fruitless. I administered extreme unction; he responded to all the prayers with a recollection and piety which increased the esteem that all on board had conceived for him. I could see him sinking. As I was myself in so alarming a state, and fearing that I might be taken away at any moment, and thus share his last abode in this land of pilgrimage and exile, I besought him to hear my confession, if he were yet capable of listening to me. I knelt, bathed in tears, by the dying couch of my brother in Christ--of my faithful friend--of my sole companion in the lonely desert. To him in his agony, I, sick and almost dying, made my confession! Strength forsook him; soon, also, he lost the power of speech, although he remained sensible to what was passing around him. Resigning myself to God’s holy will, I recited the prayers of the agonizing with the formula of the plenary indulgence, which Christ grants at the hour of death. Father Hoecken, ripe for heaven, surrendered his pure soul into the hands of his Divine Redeemer on the 19th of June, 1851, twelve days after our departure from St. Louis.

[Sidenote: BURIAL OF FATHER HOECKEN.]

“The passengers were deeply moved at the sight of the lifeless body of him who had so lately been ‘all to all,’ according to the language of the apostle. Their kind father quitted them at the moment in which his services seemed to be the most necessary. I shall remember with deep gratitude the solicitude evinced by the passengers to the reverend father in his dying moments. My resolution not to leave the body of the pious missionary in the desert was unanimously approved. A decent coffin, very thick, and tarred within, was prepared to receive his mortal remains: a temporary grave was dug in a beautiful forest, in the vicinity of the mouth of the Little Sioux, and the burial was performed with all the ceremonies of the Church, in the evening of the 19th of June, all on board assisting.”

On the return trip from Fort Union, Captain La Barge, despite the protests of the passengers, took Father Hoecken’s remains on board and delivered them to the Jesuits at St. Louis, and they were buried in the Novitiate of the Society of Jesus at Florissant, whither Father De Smet was to follow twenty-two years later.

[Sidenote: ABATEMENT OF THE PLAGUE.]

After the burial of Father Hoecken near the mouth of the Little Sioux River, Captain La Barge put everyone ashore, made the passengers roam around the neighborhood, unloaded and aired all the baggage, and completely renovated the boat. These measures, with the increasing healthfulness of the country as the boat entered the more arid sections, brought complete relief from the plague. Only one more death occurred, and in a short time everything assumed a normal aspect. The boat reached Fort Union on the 14th of July, and here Father De Smet left it to make a journey overland, southward to Fort John, on the Laramie River, where a great council of plains Indians was to assemble. Captain La Barge went on a hundred miles further, to the mouth of Poplar River, it being, as he then understood, the highest point reached by any steamboat; but it was not much, if any, farther than the _Assiniboine_ went in 1834.

[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF FATHER DE SMET.]

This may be a proper place to record some incidents in the career of Father De Smet which fell under Captain La Barge’s observation. De Smet, as is well known, traveled a great deal in nearly all parts of the far northwest. Sometimes he went around by sea, and then came overland to the headwaters of the Missouri; sometimes he went by the Oregon trail; and at others by the Missouri River. La Barge, who saw much of him, found him always a pure and excellent man, very companionable, full of anecdotes, and fearless and brave in all situations. He was liked by everyone who knew him. The Mormons were well acquainted with him and thought much of him. The Indians had the very highest regard for his character, and he seemed always to be safe in their hands. The Government of the United States likewise held him in high esteem, and on several occasions called on him for responsible and delicate work among the Indians.

Father De Smet entertained the most affectionate regard for Captain La Barge. He presented him with autograph copies of all his works, and always referred to him in terms of deepest affection. The incidents which follow were witnessed by La Barge himself.

[Sidenote: DE SMET AND THE BLACKFEET.]

On one occasion near Poplar River a band of Blackfeet came down to the bank near where the boat was. In addition to the well-known traditional hostility of these Indians to the whites, there were other reasons for believing that they were at this time in an ugly temper and meditated trouble. Father De Smet, grasping the situation, said, “It looks as if those Indians mean mischief. I will go out and meet them.” La Barge remonstrated, saying that De Smet was not acquainted with these particular Indians, and that they might kill him, when, if they knew who he was, they might spare him. But De Smet knew that his reputation had traveled where he himself had not been, and he believed that they would recognize and protect the Black Robe, as they called him. He accordingly donned his cassock, and with the crucifix before him, went ashore and walked boldly to where the Indians were. As he had expected, they received him well, made him sit down on a buffalo robe, and then lifted him up and carried him on the boat. La Barge gave them a feast and presented the chief with a suit of clothes, which greatly pleased his vanity. After a time the Indians withdrew without attempting any harm.

[Sidenote: MAKING IT RAIN.]

Although the spring of 1851 had been very backward and wet in the lower country, it was not so higher up, and when the _St. Ange_ arrived at the Aricara villages the corn crop of those Indians was found to be actually suffering from drouth. The Aricara chief, White Shield, came on board and said to La Barge, who understood his language well:[30]

“I am glad to see you, and I hear the Black Robe is on board.”

La Barge replied that that was so. The chief then continued:

“I want to ask him a favor. It is very late in the season and no rain. Corn ought to be up now. We want the Black Robe to send us rain.”

La Barge took the Indian back to De Smet’s room and said to the priest, “Father, here is the White Shield, who wants you to make it rain, for the corn is not up yet.”

De Smet, who knew the White Shield well, laughed heartily, and said he would do all he could. He then asked La Barge if the boat was going to remain there all day, and being informed that it was, he said to the White Shield: “Go to your village and put your lodge in order, and call in some of the chiefs. I will come and offer prayer to the Almighty and ask him to be merciful and grant your requests; and I am satisfied that, if you deserve it, the Great Spirit will look down and favor you.”

[Sidenote: A COPIOUS SHOWER.]

Captain La Barge and several of the passengers went along with the father, and the interpreter translated the prayer to the Indians. They left the Indians satisfied, and at noon had them on the boat for a feast, after which they returned to their village. As good fortune would have it, along about three or four o’clock in the afternoon, there came up a heavy thunder shower which fairly deluged the place. Father De Smet laughed and said:

“They will think I did it. They will give me all the credit for it.”

Some time after the shower Pierre Garreau, a French Canadian, who had spent all his life among the Indians, and had become almost an Indian himself, came to the boat and said to La Barge:

“I want you to help me. I want to find out how Father De Smet did that.”

“Did what?” asked La Barge.

“Made it rain. I will pay a good price if he will tell me. I will give him ten horses.”

La Barge took him back to De Smet, where he presented his request himself. De Smet told him to be a good Christian, and pray when he wanted it to rain, and if he deserved it, it would come. Garreau went away disappointed, for he fully believed that the father had some secret art by which he produced so signal a result. After he had gone, De Smet laughed and said: “Did I not tell you they would say I did it?”

[Sidenote: ATTEMPTED RETIREMENT.]

After La Barge returned from this trip he laid the boat up for repairs, and soon after sold her. He had now about made up his mind to quit the river and retire from active business. He had already accumulated a snug fortune for those days, and concluded to enjoy it. He made the best financial move of his life in the purchase of a large tract of land in what is now Cabanné Place in St. Louis. Had he held on to this purchase, the mere growth of the city would have made him immensely wealthy.[31] But retirement from business is one of the hardest things for a man to do, even in old age. For a man in the prime of life, as La Barge was at this time, being only thirty-six, it was not to be expected; and fate soon threw in his way a temptation that brought him back to the river.

[Sidenote: PURCHASES THE “SONORA.”]

In the spring of 1852 he met in town one day Captain Edward Salt-Marsh, who had just arrived from Ohio with a handsome new boat. She was called the _Sonora_, as almost everything in those days was given a California name. “Nothing would do but that I should go and inspect his boat,” said La Barge. “I found her an excellent craft, and soon learned that Salt-Marsh was disposed to sell her. A desire to purchase at once took possession of me and led to a lengthy negotiation, which ended in my buying the boat for thirty thousand dollars. Next day I went into town and raised the entire amount.”

The Captain this year made a contract with the Company to take their annual outfit up the river. He went to Union and back, but there were no especial incidents on the trip. After the return of the _Sonora_ he ran in the New Orleans trade for the rest of the season. This was a yellow-fever year in that section, and so many boats had left the river that Captain La Barge found plenty of business.

There were some untoward incidents on the Fort Union trip this season which decided La Barge not to go up for the Company the following year. He sold the _Sonora_ in the fall of 1852, purchased a small boat, the _Highland Mary_, with which he ran in the lower river the entire season of 1853. He sold his boat in the fall of that year.