Frightful rapids—News of Mr. Henry—A buffaloe—The Poncas—Meet the Sioux—Overtake Mr. Hunt.

Wednesday, 23d [i.e., 22d]. A delightful day—the water has risen to its utmost height, and presents a vast expanse—the current uniformly rapid, in some places rolling with the most furious and terrific violence. One of these places, below Vermillion creek,[31] was sufficient to appal the stoutest heart: the river forms an elbow at the termination of some bluffs, the water, compressed between them and the sand bar, dashes against the opposite rocks. The middle of the river appeared several feet higher than the sides. The distance to cross, before we could reach the opposite eddy, was not more than twice the length of the boat, but we were not able completely to effect it, being swept down with the rapidity of flight, but fell into the current of the opposite side, before it had {97} gained its full force, and were not able, without great difficulty, to gain the eddy.

The high waters enable us to cut off points, which is no small saving of the distance. The waters begin to fall, though great quantities of drift wood descend, and thirty or forty drowned buffaloes pass by us every day.

I observe a much greater variety of trees and shrubs, than below, and some altogether new to me. There is a shrub which the French call graisse de boeuf, bearing a red berry, of a pungent taste; its leaves, though smaller and more delicate, bear a resemblance to those of the pear tree.[32] In the hollows, clumps of trees are usually found, but what surprises me, they are very low, some of the oaks and ash are eighteen or twenty inches in diameter, but look like orchard trees, and have much greater resemblance to regular plantations than wild woods.

Thursday 23d. Water falling rapidly—a fine breeze S. E. sailed until eleven—passed the Hot, or Burning bluffs, on the S. W. side. Here I observed enormous masses of pumice, and other matter, which appeared to have undergone the action of heat, of a very high degree. {98} I saw what was the fragment of a hill, the greater part at present composed of pumice. From not being able to discover other volcanic substances, I concluded these effects to have been produced by simple ignition, whether of coal banks or not, I was unable to ascertain. I took several large lumps of the pumice lying along the shore, and threw them into the river, and found that they floated. In one place the soil seemed to have all burnt away, and the remains looked like some old ruined building. The action of fire was every where perceptible, and no vegetation could be discovered for a considerable distance. I observed no volcanic appearances.

About noon, we espied at some distance before us, on a sand bar, a number of persons, whom we at first took to be Indians, but on a nearer approach recognised to be whites. On coming to the spot, we found a Mr. Benit, the Missouri Company’s factor at the Mandan village.[33] He was descending in a small batteaux, loaded with peltry, with five men. From him we learn, that with the exception of the Mandans, Arikaras, and one or two small tribes, all the nations of the Missouri are inimical to {99} the whites, and that the Sioux have broken out into open hostilities. Mr. Benit, about eleven o’clock last night, in passing by some fires below the Poncas village, was fired on as he supposed by a party of the Yankton band of Sioux, which was returned by him. Benit saw nothing of the party of Hunt, having probably passed it in the night time. He also informed us that Mr. Henry is at this time over the mountains, in a distressed situation, that he had sent word of his intention to return to the Mandan village in the spring, with his whole party.

Proceeded on our voyage at three o’clock, not a little disheartened at this intelligence. A gloom overspread every countenance except that of Lisa, who seized the helm, made an encouraging speech, sent round the grog, and then raised the song. My thoughts, to say the truth, were rather unpleasant, but I was inclined to believe that if the danger was such as we were led to believe, the party of Hunt would wait for us; or if an attack should be made upon him, or he compelled to descend the river, we should hear of it in time to save ourselves. Mr. Benit and an American hunter {100} were persuaded to return with us. Passed some beautiful upland N. E. side, but without wood; after a beautiful regular rise of twenty or thirty feet, resembling a sodded bank, an immense level plain stretches out, bounded only by the horizon. The hunter informs me that it extends nearly an hundred miles with little variation. Here we remarked a Sioux lodge, or tent, made of the dressed skins of the elk, of a conical shape. It appears to be the custom of these people to leave their dead in tents like these, in the course of their migrations, until it is convenient for them to gather up their remains.

Friday 24th. Set off early—weather warm. The water is falling very fast—there is still a very strong current. Passed bluffs of a chalky appearance, perhaps limestone. A piece of ice floated by us this morning, probably from the breaking up of some of the northern rivers, which have contributed to the present rise. In putting off from a bluff on the S. W. side, to cross over, my attention was called to an object which attracted the notice of the company. A huge buffaloe bull made his appearance on the top of the bluff standing almost at the edge {101} of the precipice, and looking down upon us. It was the first we had seen. Long and matted wool hung over his head, and covered his huge shoulders, while his body was smooth, as also the tail, except a turf at the end. It was a striking and terrific object: he eyed us with the ferocity of the lion, seemed at length to “snuff the tainted breeze:” threw his head into the air, wheeled round and trotted off. It was fifteen minutes before he disappeared entirely, and I continued to follow him with my eyes, with a kind of delight. I was told he had gone to join his comrade; the males at this season of the year always go in pairs, a singular fact in the natural history of the animal.

Had a fine breeze towards evening—which enabled us to make five or six miles more than we expected.

Saturday 25th. This morning ran aground, and were detained several hours. Passed the river a Jaque; the principal rendezvous of the traders with the Yankton Sioux. It is a large handsome stream, navigable several hundred miles, with more wood on its borders than is generally found in this part of the country. {102} Immediately at the mouth there is an open wood, of ash and cotton trees.

Sunday 26th. At daylight, discovered a canoe descending with two men, who prove to be those sent by us, to Hunt. They bring us the pleasing information, that Hunt, in consequence of our request, has agreed to wait for us, at the Poncas village.

Saw some buffaloe to day, and with Mr. Lisa, went several miles in pursuit of them, but without success.

Passed a beautiful island L’isle a bon homme, upon which there are the remains of an ancient fortification.[34] In the evening our hunter killed a buffaloe, upon which we all feasted.

It is becoming very warm in the middle of the day, and our men suffer considerably from the heat of the sun. As we had no wind this morning, and ascended with the cordelle, I made my escape from the boat with my rifle. Passed through a most delightful prairie, the grass short and close, of a deep blue, and intermixed with a great variety of beautiful flowers. With what delight could I roam over these lovely meads, if not under restraint from the fear of meeting some party of Indians, who {103} may be lurking about. The plain was strewed with the ordure of the buffaloe, which gave it the appearance of an immense pasture field. We discovered this morning, a great deal of smoke up the river, which we suppose to have been made by the Indians, in order to give notice of our approach; some of their scouts having probably discovered us. This is the usual mode of giving warning; the ordure of the buffaloe is gathered up in heaps, and fire set to it; and such is the clearness of the atmosphere, that this smoke can be easily discerned at the distance of ten or twenty miles.

The scenery this evening is beautiful beyond any thing I ever beheld. In spite of every injunction to the contrary, I could not help wandering a few miles from the boat. The sky as clear as that represented in Chinese painting. The face of the country enchanting. The flowery mead, the swelling ground, the romantic hill, the bold river, the winding rivulet, the groves, the shrubberies, all disposed and arranged in the most exquisite manner. No idea can be conveyed to the mind, but by recurring to one which would be as sad as this is pleasing. Suppose for a moment, the most {104} beautiful parts of France or Italy should at once be divested of their population, and with it their dwellings and every vestige of human existence—that nothing but the silent plains and a few solitary groves and thickets should remain, there would then be some resemblance to the scenery of the Missouri; though the contemplation would produce grief instead of pleasure. Yet even here, I could not but feel as if there existed a painful void—something wanting—“a melancholy stillness reigns over the interminable waste”—no animated beings—

In fact, I saw no living thing in the course of my evening ramble, except a few buzzing insects. But there is a pleasure in giving wing to fancy, which anticipates the cheerful day when this virgin soil will give birth to millions of my countrymen. Too happy, if my after fame might but survive on the plains of the Missouri. If the vast expanse of ocean is considered as a sublime spectacle, this is even {105} more so; for the eye has still greater scope, and, instead of its monotony, now reposes upon the velvet green, or feeds on the endless variety of hill and dale. Instead of being closed up in a moving prison, deprived of the use of our limbs, here we may wander at our will. The mind naturally expands, or contracts, to suit the sphere in which it exists—in the immeasurable immensity of the scene, the intellectual faculties are endued with an energy, a vigor, a spring, not to be described.

The water has fallen considerably, and the current is much lessened.

Monday 27th. Had to oppose a contrary wind until eleven. While exerting ourselves to pass a difficult and dangerous rapid, Lisa who was at the head of the boat, with the grappling hook, fell overboard, and narrowly escaped being drowned. Our boat floated down the stream. When we renewed the attempt, strange to tell, it was my turn to fall over, while exerting myself with a pole, in the afterpart: I was near being swept away by the swiftness of the current, but by good luck seized the steering oar, and drew myself into the {106} boat, before the accident was perceived by more than two or three.

At one, arrived at the Poncas village. On our approach we found all the inhabitants crowded to the bank, and several had waded into the water up to the waist. The greater part of the men were naked; the women and children filthy and disgusting. Two of the chiefs came on board, and immediately began to beg;—“Take pity on us, strangers—we are very poor—we have no knives to cut our meat, but are obliged to tear it with our nails—we have no guns—we have no powder—or lead—take pity on us, we are very poor.” This is the contemptible whine of nearly all the nations of the Missouri. We made a few presents; the principal chief then begged for some whiskey, a small dram was given him, which we afterwards regretted, for in a few moments he became troublesome—looked like a mad monkey, his teeth chattered, his tongue moved incessantly, and his countenance underwent a thousand ridiculous contortions and grimaces. It was with much difficulty we could get him out of the boat; when he was led to the edge, he appeared to be afraid to step off, though the {107} boat was almost touching the shore; his limbs quaked, he burst into tears, and bellowed like an ox; it was found absolutely necessary to lift him out and set him on the ground. He had no sooner touched it, than this babe, was converted into a ferocious demon: he seized a huge limb of a tree, and fell on the crowd of warriors, women, and children, and laid about him with the utmost fury; these stumbled over each other, and ran off helter skelter, exhibiting a scene truly ludicrous.

We could obtain no information here, further than, that Hunt had gone off three days before, but we suppose in order to wait for us a short distance above. Proceeded on our voyage and encamped at the mouth of the Qui Courre, four miles above the village.[35] In the evening, two men who proved to be deserters from the party of Hunt, came to us with very unwelcome intelligence. It seems that Hunt, was much astonished to find from our messengers that we were so near; but fearing to be passed, had sent us a feigned answer in order to conceal his real design, which was to make all possible haste to keep out of our reach. In order to affect this, he was now making every possible {108} exertion. Our suspicions are now fully confirmed—Hunt is apprehensive that Lisa will endeavour to pass, and then induce the Sioux to stop him, or he is himself resolved upon securing his passage by the same means. Such is the effect of this unhappy distrust; this want of mutual confidence, I fear, may in the end, prove equally injurious to us all. Nothing is now left for us, but to push our voyage with greater vigor than ever.

Tuesday 28th. Weather smoky, and extremely warm. High land on both sides of the river, with some dwarf trees in the hollows, principally cedar. At ten, a fine breeze springing up, we continued under sail the rest of the day, and determining to strain every nerve, in order to overtake Hunt, we resolved to run the risk of sailing after night, and fortunately it happened to be moonlight. We continued under way until eleven o’clock. As the water was in a middling stage, there was danger of running aground, and being detained several days. But little confidence can be placed in the soundings, on account of the bends of the river, and the sudden changes from deep to shoal water. {109} There is scarcely any lowland from the Qui Courre—the country hilly.

Wednesday 29th. After lying by a few hours, at one o’clock, again continued under sail—but the moon disappearing, and it becoming dark, it was thought adviseable to lie by until day-light. The hills hereabout, high and broken, and little or no river bottom on either side. At two o’clock, arrived at a beautiful island, called Little Cedar island, on which grows fine cedar, the trees uncommonly large.[36] This is a delightful spot, the soil of the island is rich, and it may contain about three thousand acres—the middle of the island is a beautiful prairie, but the adjacent country is bleak and barren. At the point of the island, discovered an encampment of Hunt, and on examination, we discovered, to the great joy of the company that the fire was not yet extinguished; it is therefore but a few days since he was here. Continued under sail until eleven at night, having in little better than twenty-four hours, made seventy-five miles.

Thursday 30th. This morning, favoured with a continuance of fair wind. The country is exceedingly rough and broken—the greater {110} part without the least vegetation. The hills have a very singular appearance. Near the top they look black, and seem to have been burnt. About noon, saw some tracks, which we supposed to be of yesterday.

In the evening, passed a very fine stream, called White river, about three hundred yards wide at the mouth.[37] Here there is some bottom land, and wood points; the hills covered with grass. Heard several gun shots, which we supposed to have been from the party of Hunt. This evening the wind abated.

Friday 31st. This morning, a contrary wind, and some rain. Proceeded with the cordelle. In the course of the day, saw a large flock of antelopes—they appear to be numerous in this part of the country. Observed in the sand, a number of Indian tracks, and a place, where it appeared that the boats of Mr. Hunt had stopped with the Indians some time. One of our men discovered a curious place, contrived by the Indians, for taking fish; it was something like a fish basket—we found two fine catfish in it.

When about to put into the river, to cross to a point, we discovered three buffaloes, swimming {111} towards us, and contrary to the precautions we had agreed to observe, in making no noise, (lest we should be discovered by the Indians, who were probably in the neighborhood) a firing was commenced upon the poor animals, which continued half an hour. The report of the guns, as might have been foreseen, brought an Indian to the top of the hill, but we were too far in the river, to return to him, or to be heard.

Towards evening, the boat having received some injury, were compelled to stop—I went in pursuit of a buffaloe calf—on my return, found the party somewhat uneasy on account of the length of my stay, having been drawn by the eagerness of pursuit to a considerable distance. Set off again, and continued to drag the boat along until late at night. The men much fatigued.

Saturday, June 1st. At daylight we heard the firing of guns on the hills below us, on the other side of the river; and concluded that all our precautions and extraordinary exertion had been vain; that we should be robbed and killed, or at least compelled to return; for it was in vain to think of ascending the river if these {112} people were determined to oppose us. In a short time they made their appearance on the opposite sand beach, hoisted an American flag, and fired a few shots. There was but one thing to be done, which was to cross over to them at once, and meet the worst, every man preparing himself for defence. Each rower had his gun by his side, and Lisa and myself beside our knives and rifles had each a pair of pistols in our belts. On reaching the shore, we discovered twelve or thirteen Indians seated on a log of wood, but we supposed the principal body of them were concealed in the woods, so as to be at hand if required. Lisa and I leaped ashore, and shook hands with them. Having no interpreter at this critical juncture, we were fearful of not being understood: however, with the aid of certain signs which form a kind of universal language amongst the Indians, and with which Lisa was acquainted, he was enabled to hold a conversation. He told them that he was their trader, but that he had been very unfortunate, for all the peltries which he had collected among them, as they well knew, had been burnt the year before; while his young men, who had passed up to {113} the head of the river, had been greatly distressed by the natives of those parts, who were bad people. That he was now poor and much to be pitied, and was on his way to bring back his young men, having resolved to leave the upper country. He concluded, by requesting the chief to give notice to all the Sioux bands that in three months he would return and establish a trading factory for them at the Cedar island. This speech, together with a handsome present, had the desired effect; though not without apparent reluctance. Remaining as short a time as possible, we recrossed the river. The chief is a fine looking Indian, the others were very young men, nearly naked, with long braids of hair hanging over their foreheads, and confined in small tubes. They have all fine features, and are well formed. I observed a singular appendage to their moccasins; a fox’s tail was fastened to the heel, and which trailed along the ground as they walked. It is two days since Hunt passed here.

We experienced a momentary relief, but did not by any means, consider ourselves yet safe. It is possible we may have passed the principal body of the Sioux in the night, while under {114} sail, in which case, they will be able to overtake us by this evening, or to-morrow morning. We therefore resolved not to remit our exertions.

About twelve o’clock we reached the great bend, twenty miles round, and but one mile and an half across the gorge. A remarkable part of the river. In the evening there was every appearance of an approaching change in the state of the atmosphere; and the wind, as usual, veered gradually round to the different points of the compass, from south to east, from east to north, and from north to west; and what appeared almost miraculous, shifted with the course of the river so as to enable us to sail with a favourable wind, nearly the whole way round the bend. In this, however, we were exposed to considerable danger, and suffered much from a very heavy rain. Thus favoured, we have gained a day upon Hunt.

Sunday 2d. Set out with my gun early this morning on the S. W. side of the river—walked about four miles along the hills, and at length approaching in sight of the point where the great bend terminates, I descried on the opposite side, with much satisfaction, the boats {115} of Mr. Hunt. I immediately returned to give the joyful intelligence to our people. On coming opposite the place where I had seen the boats, we discovered a great number of Indians, who beckoned to us to cross; but supposing them to be Sioux, we determined to continue on until we should overtake the party before us. We suffered them to shout, to gallop their horses, and to wave their robes unnoticed. Some distance above, two men came to us, who had been with Hunt; the Indians we had just passed, were a party of three hundred Arikaras, who, on hearing of our approach, had come for the purpose of enabling us to ascend. It appears also, that we have passed all the Sioux bands, who had been seen by Hunt, but probably finding his party too strong, they had resolved to stop and plunder ours; that we must have passed them in the night, or under sail, as they did not expect to hear of us so soon.

At eleven o’clock we overtook Hunt’s party, to the satisfaction of our little company. It was with real pleasure I took my friend Bradbury by the hand; I had reason to believe our meeting was much more cordial than that of {116} the two commanders. Continued under sail in company the rest of the day, forming a handsome little fleet of five sail. Encamped in the evening opposite the larger Cedar island, twelve hundred miles from the mouth of the Missouri.[38]

[31] Lewis and Clark called this the Whitestone River—a translation of its Indian name, Wassisha. It is now Vermilion River, in South Dakota, with a town of the same name at its mouth.—Ed.

[32] This is the plant called buffalo-berry, also (by Lewis and Clark) rabbit-berry; scientifically it is shepherdia argentea.—Ed.

[33] Probably this was Francis M. Benoit (Benoist), a prominent fur-trader of St. Louis, who had formerly maintained a post among the Oto and Pawnee. He was born in Canada in 1768, came to St. Louis in 1790, and was occupied with Indian trade until his death in 1819. His son, Louis C. Benoist, was a leading St. Louis banker.—Ed.

[34] Bon Homme Island retains its name, and this has been extended to a South Dakota county and town. The fortification which Brackenridge mentions Lewis and Clark described in much detail. For drawings thereof, see Original Journals of Lewis and Clark Expedition (New York, 1904).—Ed.

[35] The French name of the present Niobrara River was L’eau qui court (rapid-running water).—Ed.

[36] This was the first of the islands bearing this name, which is still retained. It is in Gregory County, South Dakota. The second is near Chamberlain. See Bradbury’s Travels, vol. v of our series, note 67.—Ed.

[37] White River rises in northeastern Nebraska and flows through South Dakota, emptying into the Missouri in Lyman County.—Ed.

[38] This was the Cedar Island upon which Loisel’s fort stood; see Bradbury’s Travels, vol. v of our series, note 105.—Ed.