Chapter 8

I once hunted for three months in company with a hunter well known in California. In idea, he was wild and imaginative in the extreme; but, in his acts of daring, &c., the most cool and philosophic fellow I ever knew. A commercianto, or merchant, at San Francisco, on whose veracity I know from experience I can depend, told me the following story of this man, which will at once illustrate his general character. This hunter was, some months before I had fallen in with him, making the best of his way down the valley of the Tule Lakes from the interior, with a heavy pack of furs on his back, his never-erring rifle in his hand, and his two dogs by his side. He was joined at the northermost end of the valley by the merchant I had spoken of, who was armed only with sword and pistols. They had scarcely cleared the valley, when a party of robbers galloped out before them. There were four whites, fully armed, and two Indians with the lassos coiled up in their right hands, ready for a throw. The hunter told the merchant, who was on horseback, to dismount instantly, "and to cover." Fortunately for them, there was a good deal of thicket, and trunks of large trees that had fallen were strewed about in a very desirable manner. Behind these logs the merchant and the hunter quickly took up their position, and as they were in the act of doing so, two or three shots were fired after them without effect. The hunter coolly untied the pack of furs from his back, and laid them beside him. "It's my opinion, merchant," said he, "that them varmint there wants either your saddle-bags or my pack, but I reckon they'll get neither." So he took up his rifle, fired, and the foremost Indian, lasso in hand, rolled off his horse. Another discharge from the rifle, and the second Indian fell, while in the act of throwing his lasso at the head and shoulders of the hunter, as he raised himself from behind the log to fire. "Now," said the hunter, as he reloaded, laying on his back to avoid the shots of the robbers, "that's what I call the best of the scrimmage, to get them brown thieves with their lassoes out of the way first. See them rascally whites now jumping over the logs to charge us in our cover." They were fast advancing, when the rifle again spoke out, and the foremost fell; they still came on to within about thirty yards, when another fell; and the remaining two made a desperate charge up close to the log. The hunter, from long practice, was dexterous in reloading his gun. "Now, merchant," said he, "is the time for your pop-guns, (meaning the pistols,) and don't be at all narvous, keep a steady hand, and drop either man or horse. A man of them shan't escape." The two remaining robbers were now up with the log, and fired each a pistol-shot at the hunter, which he escaped by dodging behind a tree close to, from which he fired with effect. As only one robber was left, he wheeled round his horse with the intention of galloping off, when the pistol-bullets of the merchant shot the horse from under him. "Well done, merchant," said the hunter, "you've stopped that fellow's galop." As soon as the robber could disentangle himself from the fallen horse, he took to his heels and ran down a sloping ground as fast as he could. The hunter drew his tomahawk from his belt, and gave chase after him. As he was more of an equestrian than a pedestrian, the nimbleness of the hunter soon shortened the distance between them, and the last of the robbers fell. Thus perished this dangerous gang of six, by the single hand of this brave hunter, and, as the "commercianto" informed me, he acted as coolly and deliberately as if he were shooting tame bullocks for the market. The affair was rather advantageous to the hunter, for, on searching the saddle-bags and pockets of the robbers, he pulled forth some doubloons, and a few dollars, with other valuables they had, no doubt, a short time previously, taken from some traveler; the saddle-bags, arms, and accouterments of the four white men, were packed up, made fast on the saddles of the two horses, and the hunter mounted a third, the merchant mounted another, his horse being shot, and thus they left the scene of action, the bodies of the robbers to the wolves, who were howling about them, and entered San Francisco in triumph.

A STORM AMONG THE ICEBERGS.

To prevent the ships separating during the fog, it was necessary to keep fast to the heavy piece of ice which we had between them as a fender, and with a reduced amount of sail on them, we made some way through the pack: as we advanced in this novel mode to the south-west, we found the ice became more open, and the westerly swell increasing as the wind veered to the northwest, at midnight, we found it impossible any longer to hold on by the floe piece. All our hawsers breaking in succession, we made sail on the ships, and kept company, during the thick fog, by firing guns, and by means of the usual signals: under the shelter of a berg of nearly a mile in diameter, we dodged about during the whole day, waiting for clear weather, that we might select the best lead through the dispersing pack; but at nine P.M. the wind suddenly freshened to a violent gale from the northward, compelling us to reduce our sails to a close-reefed main-topsail and storm-staysails: the sea quickly rising to a fearful height, breaking over the loftiest bergs, we were unable any longer to hold our ground, but were driven into the heavy pack under our lee. Soon after midnight, our ships were involved in an ocean of rolling fragments of ice, hard as floating rocks of granite, which were dashed against them by the waves with so much violence, that their masts quivered as if they would fall, at every successive blow; and the destruction of the ships seemed inevitable from the tremendous shocks they received. By backing and filling the sails, we endeavored to avoid collision with the larger masses; but this was not always possible: in the early part of the storm, the rudder of the Erebus was so much damaged as to be no longer of any use; and about the same time, I was informed by signal that the Terror's was completely destroyed, and nearly torn away from the stern-post. We had hoped that, as we drifted deeper into the pack, we should get beyond the reach of the tempest; but in this we were mistaken. Hour passed away after hour without the least mitigation of the awful circumstances in which we were placed. Indeed, there seemed to be but little probability of our ships holding together much longer, so frequent and violent were the shocks they sustained. The loud, crashing noise of the straining and working of the timbers and decks, as she was driven against some of the heavier pieces, which all the activity and exertions of our people could not prevent, was sufficient to fill the stoutest heart, that was not supported by trust in Him, who controls all events, with dismay.

At two P.M. the storm gained its height, when the barometer stood at 28.40 inches, and, after that time, began to rise. Although we had been forced many miles deeper into the pack, we could not perceive that the swell had at all subsided, our ships still rolling and groaning amid the heavy fragments of crushing bergs, over which the ocean rolled its mountainous waves, throwing huge masses one upon another, and then again burying them deep beneath its foaming waters, dashing and grinding them together with fearful violence. The awful grandeur of such a scene can neither be imagined nor described, for less can the feelings of those who witnessed it be understood. Each of us secured our hold, waiting the issue with resignation to the will of Him who alone could preserve us, and bring us safely through this extreme danger; watching with breathless anxiety the effect of each succeeding collision, and the vibrations of the tottering masts, expecting every moment to see them give way, without our having the power to make an effort to save them.

Although the force of the wind had somewhat diminished by four o'clock, yet the squalls came on with unabated violence, laying the ship over on her broadside, and threatening to blow the storm-sails to pieces; fortunately they were quite new, or they never could have withstood such terrific gusts. At this time, the Terror was so close to us, that, when she rose to the top of one wave, the Erebus was on the top of that next to leeward of her; the deep chasm between them filled with heavy rolling masses; and, as the ships descended into the hollow between the waves, the main-topsail yard of each could be seen just level with the crest of the intervening wave, from the deck of the other: from this, some idea may be formed of the height of the waves, as well as of the perilous situation of our ships. The night now began to draw on, and cast its gloomy mantle over the appalling scene, rendering our condition, if possible, more hopeless and helpless than before; but, at midnight, the snow, which had been falling thickly for several hours, cleared away, as the wind suddenly shifted to the westward, and the swell began to subside; and although the shocks our ships still sustained were such that must have destroyed any ordinary vessel in less than five minutes, yet they were feeble compared to those to which we had been exposed, and our minds became more at ease for their ultimate safety.

During the darkness of night and the thick weather, we had been carried through a chain of bergs which were seen in the morning considerably to windward, and which served to keep off the heavy pressure of the pack, so that we found the ice much more open, and I was enabled to make my way, in one of our boats, to the Terror, about whose condition I was most anxious--for I was aware that her damages were of a much more serious nature than those of the Erebus, notwithstanding the skillful and seaman-like manner in which she had been managed, and by which she maintained her appointed station throughout the gale. I found that her rudder was completely broken to pieces, and the fastenings to the stern-post so much strained and twisted, that it would be difficult to get the spare rudder, with which we were fortunately provided, fitted so as to be useful, and could only be done, if at all, under very favorable circumstances. The other damages she had sustained were of less consequence; and it was as great a satisfaction as it has ever since been a source of astonishment to us to find that, after so many hours of constant and violent thumping, both the vessels were nearly as tight as they were before the gale. We can only ascribe this to the admirable manner in which they had been fortified for the service, and to our having their holds so stowed as to form a solid mass throughout.

FALL OF THE ROSSBERG.

The summer of 1806 had been very rainy; and on the first and second of September it rained incessantly. New crevices were observed in the flank of the mountain; a sort of cracking noise was heard internally; stones started out of the ground; detached fragments of rocks rolled down the mountain. At two o'clock in the afternoon, on the 2d of September, a large rock became loose, and in falling, raised a cloud of black dust. Toward the lower part of the mountain, the ground seemed pressed down from above; and, when a stick or a spade was driven in, it moved of itself. A man who had been digging in his garden ran away, from fright at these extraordinary appearances; soon a fissure, larger than all the others, was observed; insensibly, it increased: springs of water ceased all at once to flow, the pine trees of the forest absolutely reeled; the birds flew away screaming. A few minutes before five o'clock, the symptoms of some mighty catastrophe became still stronger; the whole surface of the mountain seemed to glide down, but so slowly as to afford time to the inhabitants to go away. An old man, who had often predicted some such disaster, was quietly smoking his pipe; when told by a young man running by, that the mountain was in the act of falling, he rose and looked out, but came into his house again, saying he had time to fill another pipe. The young man, continuing to fly, was thrown down several times, and escaped with difficulty; looking back, he saw the house carried off, all at once.

Another inhabitant, being alarmed, took two of his children, and ran away with them, calling to his wife to follow with the third; but she went in for another, who still remained, (Marianne, aged five;) just then, Francisca Ulrich, their servant, was crossing the room with this Marianne, whom she held by the hand, and saw her mistress; at that instant, as Francisca afterward said, "the house appeared to be torn from its foundation, (it was of wood,) and spun round and round like a teetotum; I was sometimes on my head, and sometimes on my feet, in total darkness, and violently separated from the child." When the motion stopped, she found herself jammed in on all sides, with her head downward, much bruised; and in extreme pain. She supposed she was buried alive, at a great depth; with much difficulty, she disengaged her right hand, and wiped the blood from her eyes. Presently, she heard the faint moans of Marianne, and called her by her name; the child answered that she was on her back, among stones and bushes, which held her fast, but that her hands were free, and that she saw the light, and then something green; she asked whether people would not come soon to take them out.

Francisca answered that it was the day of judgment, and that no one was left to help them, but that they would be released by death, and be happy in Heaven. They prayed together; at last Francisca's ear was struck by the sound of a bell, which she knew to be that of Stenenberg; then seven o'clock struck in another village, and she began to hope there were still living beings, and endeavored to comfort the child; the poor little girl was at first clamorous for her supper; but her cries soon became fainter, and at last quite died away. Francisca, still with her head downward, and surrounded with damp earth, experienced a sense of cold in her feet almost insupportable; after prodigious efforts, she succeeded in disengaging her legs, and thinks this saved her life. Many hours had passed in this situation, when she again heard the voice of Marianne, who had been asleep, and now renewed her lamentations. In the meantime, the unfortunate father, who, with much difficulty, had saved himself and two children, wandered about till daylight, when he came among the ruins to look for the rest of his family; he soon discovered his wife, by a foot which appeared above the ground; she was dead, with a child in her arms. His cries, and the noise he made in digging, were heard by Marianne, who called out. She was extricated, with a broken thigh, and saying that Francisca was not far off, a farther search led to her release also, but in such a state that her life was despaired of. She was blind for some days, and remained subject to convulsive fits of terror. It appeared that the house, or themselves, at least, had been carried down about one thousand five hundred feet from where it stood before.

In another place, a child two years old was found unhurt, lying on his straw mattress upon the mud, without any vestige of the house from which he had been separated. Such a mass of earth and stones rushed at once into the lake of Sowertey, although five miles distant, that one end of it was filled up, and a prodigious wave passing completely over the island of Schwanau, seventy feet above the usual level of the water, overwhelmed the opposite shore, and, as it returned, swept away into the lake many houses with their inhabitants. The chapel of Olton, built of wood, was found half a league from the place it had previously occupied, and many large blocks of stone completely changed their position.

SIMOND'S SWITZERLAND.

THE RIFLEMAN OF CHIPPEWA.

At the time of the French and Indian wars, the American army was encamped on the plains of Chippewa. Colonel St. Clair, the commander, was a bold and meritorious officer; but there was mixed with his bravery a large share of rashness or indiscretion. His rashness, in this case, consisted in encamping on an open plain beside a thick wood, from which an Indian scout could easily pick off his outposts, without being exposed, in the least, to the fire of the sentinel.

Five nights had passed, and every night he had been surprised by the disappearance of a sentry, who stood at a lonely post in the vicinity of the forest. These repeated disasters had struck such a dread into the breasts of the remaining soldiers, that no one would volunteer to take the post, and the commander, knowing it would be throwing away their lives, let it remain unoccupied several nights.

At length a rifleman of the Virginia corps, volunteered his services. He was told the danger of the duty; but he laughed at the fears of his comrades, saying he would return safe, to drink the health of his commander in the morning. The guard marched up soon after, and he shouldered his rifle, and fell in. He arrived at his bounds, and, bidding his fellow-sentinels good-night, assumed the duties of his post.

The night was dark, from the thick clouds that overspread the firmament. No star shone on the sentinel as he paced his lonely path, and naught was heard but the mournful hoot of the owl, as she raised her nightly wail from the withered branch of the venerable oak. At length, a low rustling among the bushes on the right, caught his ear. He gazed long toward the spot whence the sound seemed to proceed; but saw nothing, save the impenetrable gloom of the thick forest which surrounded the encampment. Then, as he marched onward, he heard the joyful cry of "all's well," after which he seated himself upon a stump, and fell into a reverie. While he thus sat, a savage entered the open space behind, and, after buckling his tunic, with numerous folds, tight around his body, drew over his head the skin of a wild boar, with the natural appendages of those animals. Thus accoutred, he walked past the soldier, who, seeing the object approach, quickly stood upon his guard. But a well-known grunt eased his fears, and he suffered it to pass, it being too dark for any one to discover the cheat. The beast, as it appeared to be, quietly sought the thicket to the left; it was nearly out of sight, when, through a sudden break in the clouds, the moon shone bright upon it. The soldier then perceived the ornamented moccasin of an Indian, and, quick as thought, prepared to fire. But, fearing lest he might be mistaken, and thus needlessly alarm the camp, and also supposing, if he were right, the other savages would be near at hand, he refrained, and having a perfect knowledge of Indian subtlety and craft, quickly took off his coat and cap, and, after hanging them on the stump where he had reclined, secured his rifle, and softly groped his way toward the thicket. He had barely reached it, when the whizzing of an arrow passed his head, and told him of the danger he had escaped. Turning his eyes toward a small spot of cleared land within the thicket, he perceived a dozen of the same _animals_ sitting on their hind legs, instead of feeding on the acorns, which, at this season, lay plentifully upon the surface of the leaves; and, listening attentively, he heard them conversing in the Iroquois tongue. The substance of their conversation was, that, if the sentinel should not discover them, the next evening, as soon as the moon should afford them sufficient light for their operations, they would make an attack upon the American camp. They then quitted their rendezvous, and soon their tall forms were lost in the gloom of the forest. The soldier now returned to his post, and found the arrow sunk deep in the stump, it having passed through the breast of his coat.

He directly returned to the encampment, and desired the orderly at the marquee to inform the commander of his wish to speak with him, having information of importance of communicate. He was admitted, and, having been heard, the colonel bestowed on him the vacant post of lieutenant of the corps, and directed him to be ready, with a picket-guard, to march, at eight o'clock in the evening, to the spot he had occupied the night before, where he was to place his hat and coat upon the stump, and then lie in ambush for the intruders. Accordingly, the party proceeded, and obeyed the colonel's orders. The moon rose, but shone dimly through the thick branches of the forest.

While the new lieutenant was waiting the result of his manoeuver, an arrow whizzed from the same quarter as before. The mock soldier fell on his face. A dozen subdued voices sounded from within the thicket, which were soon followed by the sudden appearance of the Indians themselves. They barely reached the stump, when our hero gave the order to fire, and the whole band were stretched dead upon the plain. After stripping them of their arms and trappings, the Americans returned to the camp.

Twelve chiefs fell at the destructive fire of the white men, and their fall was, undoubtedly, one great cause of the French and Indian wars with the English. The fortunate rifleman, who had originated and conducted the ambuscade, returned from the war, at its termination, with a competency. He was not again heard of, until the parent-country raised her arm against the infant colonies. Then was seen, at the head of a band of Virginia riflemen our hero as the brave and gallant Colonel Morgan.

SHIPWRECK OF THE BLENDENHALL.

In the year 1821, the Blendenhall, free trader, bound from England for Bombay, partly laden with broadcloths, was proceeding on her voyage with every prospect of a successful issue. While thus pursuing her way through the Atlantic, she was unfortunately driven from her course, by adverse winds and currents, more to the southward and westward than was required, and it became desirable to reach the island of Tristan d'Acunha, in order to ascertain and rectify the reckoning.

It was while steering to reach this group of islands, that, one morning a passenger, on board the Blendenhall, who chanced to be up on deck earlier than usual, observed great quantities of seaweed occasionally floating alongside. This excited some alarm, and a man was immediately sent aloft to keep a good look-out. The weather was then extremely hazy, though moderate; the weeds continued; all were on the alert; they shortened sail, and the boatswain piped for breakfast. In less than ten minutes, "breakers ahead!" startled every soul, and in a moment all were on deck. "Breakers starboard! breakers larboard! breakers all around!" was the ominous cry a moment afterward, and all was confusion. The words were scarcely uttered, when, and before the helm was up, the ill-fated ship struck, and, after a few tremendous shocks against the sunken reef, she parted about midship. Ropes and stays were cut away--all rushed forward, as if instinctively, and had barely reached the forecastle, when the stern and quarter-deck broke asunder with a violent crash, and sunk to rise no more. Two of the seamen miserably perished--the rest, including officers, passengers, and crew, held on about the head and bows--the struggle was for life!