The Project Gutenberg EBook of Blazing The Way, by Emily Inez Denny This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license Title: Blazing The Way True Stories, Songs and Sketches of Puget Sound Author: Emily Inez Denny Release Date: April 1, 2012 [EBook #39334] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLAZING THE WAY *** Produced by Mark C. Orton, Pat McCoy, Bruce Jones and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net FORT DECATUR. JANUARY 26, 1856 BLAZING THE WAY OR TRUE STORIES, SONGS AND SKETCHES OF PUGET SOUND AND OTHER PIONEERS BY EMILY INEZ DENNY [Pg 1] [Pg 2] [Pg 3] WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR AND FROM AUTHENTIC PHOTOGRAPHS SEATTLE: RAINIER PRINTING COMPANY, Inc. 1909 Copyright 1899 By EMILY INEZ DENNY Published 1909 To My Dear Father and Mother, Faithful Friends and Counselors, Whose pioneer life I shared, This book is affectionately dedicated By THE AUTHOR A star stood large and white awest, Then Time uprose and testified; They push’d the mailed wood aside, They toss’d the forest like a toy, That great forgotten race of men, The boldest band that yet has been Together since the siege of Troy, And followed it and found their rest. —Miller PREFACE BLAZING THE WAY. In the early days when a hunter, explorer or settler essayed to tread the mysterious depths of the unknown forest of Puget Sound, he took care to “blaze the way.” At brief intervals he stopped to cut with his sharp woodman’s ax a generous chip from the rough bark of fir, hemlock or cedar tree, leaving the yellow inner bark or wood exposed, thereby providing a perfect guide by which he retraced his steps to the canoe or cabin. As the initial stroke it may well be emblematical of the beginnings of things in the great Northwest. I do not feel moved to apologize for this book; I have gathered the fragments within my reach; such or similar works are needed to set forth the life, character and movement of the early days on Puget Sound. The importance of the service of the Pioneers is as yet dimly perceived; what the Pilgrim Fathers were to New England, the Pioneers were to the Pacific Coast, to the “nations yet to be,” who, following in their footsteps, shall people the wilds with teeming cities, a “human sea,” bearing on its bosom argosies of priceless worth. It does contain some items and incidents not generally known or heretofore published. I hope others may be provoked to record their pioneer experiences. I have had exceptional opportunities in listening to the thrice-told tales of parents and friends who had crossed the plains, as well as personal recollections of experiences and observation during a residence of over fifty years in the Northwest, acknowledging also the good fortune of having been one of the first white children born on Puget Sound. [Pg 4] [Pg 5] [Pg 6] [Pg 7] [Pg 8] Every old pioneer has a store of memories of adventures and narrow escapes, hardships bravely endured, fresh pleasures enjoyed, rude but genial merrymakings, of all the fascinating incidents that made up the wonder-life of long ago. Chronology is only a row of hooks to hang the garments of the past upon, else they may fall together in a confused heap. Not having a full line of such supports on which to hang the weaving of my thoughts—I simply overturn my Indian basket of chips picked up after “Blazing the Way,” they being merely bits of beginnings in the Northwest. E. I. DENNY. Note—The poem referred to on page 144 will appear in another work.—Author. INDEX PART I—THE GREAT MARCH CHAPTER page I. Crossing the Plains 17 II. Down the Columbia in ’51 34 III. The Settlement at Alki 41 IV. Founding of Seattle and Indian War 63 V. The Murder of McCormick 96 VI. Killing Cougars 105 VII. Pioneer Child Life 113 VIII. Marching Experiences of Esther Chambers 151 IX. An Olympia Woman’s Trip Across the Plains in 1851 168 X. Captain Henry Roeder on the Trail 177 PART II—MEN, WOMEN AND ADVENTURES I. Song of the Pioneers 182 II. Biographical Notes and Sketches, John Denny, Sarah Latimer Denny 186 III. David Thomas Denny 203 IV. The First Wedding on Elliot Bay 257 V. Louisa Boren Denny 272 Va. Madge Decatur Denny 288 Vb. Anna Louisa Denny 294 Vc. William Richard Boren 300 VI. Arthur A. Denny, Mary A. Denny 305 VII. Henry Van Asselt of Duwamish 320 VIII. Thomas Mercer 329 IX. Dr. Henry A. Smith, the Brilliant Writer 344 X. Famous Indian Chiefs 358 PART III—INDIAN LIFE AND SETTLERS’ BEGINNINGS I. Savage Deeds of Savage Men 391 II. Pioneer Jokes and Anecdotes 415 III. Trails of Commerce 436 [Pg 9] [Pg 10] IV. Building of the Territorial University 452 V. A Chehalis Letter, Penned in ’52 467 VI. Some Pioneers of Port Townsend 479 VII. Personnel of the Pioneer Army 489 SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS. Part I. Page Chapter I— Crossing the Plains—Names of the Denny Company 20 Attacked by Indians at American Falls 27 Chapter II— A Narrow Escape from Going Over the Cascades 36 About to Sink in the Cold Waters of the Columbia 38 Chapter III— Tramping a Long Trail 42 Landing of J. N. Low, D. T. Denny and Lee Terry at Sgwudux (West Seattle) 43 Exploring the Duwampsh River 44 Names of Party from "Exact" 50 Chapter IV— A Visit from Wolves 66 A Flight to Fort Decatur 76 Battle of Seattle 80 Story of John I. King’s Capture 91 Chapter V— A Tragedy of the Trail 98 Chapter VI— A Hair-raising Hunt for a Cougar 107 Chapter VII— Seeking the Dead Among the Living 121 The Strawberry of Memory 126 Three Little Girls and a Pioneer "Fourth" 131 A Rescue from Drowning 138 Chapter VIII— Frontier Experiences 151 Chapter IX— Placating Indians on the Plains 171 Chapter X— Capt. Roeder’s Meeting with the Bandit Joaquin 180 Part II. Chapter I— Poem—Song of the Pioneers 182 Chapter II— A Notable Pioneer Reformer, John Denny 188 Chapter III— A Tireless Foundation Builder, David Thomas Denny 203 Threats from Anti-Chinese Agitators 211 His Own Account of Arrival on Elliott Bay 214 Surrounded by Indians 243 Trials and Triumph 256 Chapter IV— A Lively Celebration of the First Wedding on Elliott Bay 258 Story of a Bear Hunt 268 Chapter V— Indian Courtship 275 On the Day of Battle 276 Chapter VI— Discovery of Shilshole or Salmon Bay 310 An Escape from Murderous Savages 313 [Pg 11] [Pg 12] Defense with a Hatchet 316 Chapter VII— Immune Because of Indian Superstition 323 Chapter VIII— Saving an Auburn-haired Girl 341 Chapter IX— A Grand Description of a Vast Forest Fire 350 Poem—"The Mortgage" 352 Poem—"Pacific’s Pioneers" 354 Chapter X— Hanging of Leschi 370 Poem—"The Chief’s Reply" 388 Part III. Chapter I— Shooting of Lachuse 392 The Fight at Fort Nesqually 395 Abbie Casto’s Fate 409 Chapter II— How the Old Shell Blew Up a Stump and Cautioned Mr. Horton 423 Mr. Beaty and the Cheese 425 Chapter III— Poem—"The Beaver’s Requiem" 436 Chapter IV— Poem—"The Voice of the Old University Bell" 459 Chapter V— Charming Description of Early Days on the Chehalis 467 Chapter VI— Founding of Port Townsend 481 Chapter VII— A Number of Noted Names 489 Poem—"Hail, and Farewell" 503 ILLUSTRATIONS I. Fort Decatur, Jan. 26, 1856 Frontispiece II. Chips Picked Up Facing page 17 III. Bargaining with Indians at Alki " " 49 IV. Indian Canoes Sailing with North Wind " " 81 V. Log Cabin in the Swale " " 105 VI. Where We Wandered Long Ago " " 113 VII. A Visit from Our Tillicum " " 145 VIII. Sarah, John and Loretta Denny " " 193 IX. David Thomas Denny " " 209 X. Sons of L. B. and D. T. Denny " " 241 XI. Louisa B. Denny " " 257 XII. A Flower Garden Planted by L. B. Denny " " 273 XIII. Daughters of D. T. and L. B. Denny " " 289 XIV. Erythronium of Lake Union " " 337 XV. Types of Indian Houses " " 369 XVI. Last Voyage of the Lumei " " 385 XVII. A Few Artifacts of P. S. Indians " " 401 XVIII. Ship Belle Isle " " 481 XIX. Rev. Blaine, C. D. and Wm. R. Boren " " 489 XX. Mrs. L. C. Low " " 493 [Pg 13] [Pg 14] [Pg 15] [Pg 16] BLAZING THE WAY PART I.—THE GREAT MARCH CHAPTER I CROSSING THE PLAINS. With Faith’s clear eye we saw afar In western sky our empire’s star, And strong of heart and brave of soul, We marched and marched to reach the goal. Unrolled a scroll, the great, gray plains, And traced thereon our wagon trains; Our blazing campfires marked the road As night succeeding night they glowed. —Song of the Pioneers. The noble army of courageous, enduring, persistent, progressive pioneers who from time to time were found threading their way across the illimitable wilderness, forty or fifty years ago, in detached companies, often unknown and unknowing each other, have proved conclusively that an age of marvelous heroism is but recently past. “CHIPS PICKED UP AFTER BLAZING THE WAY” The knowledge, foresight, faith and force exhibited by many of these daring men and women proclaimed them endowed with the genius of conquerors. The merely physical aspect of the undertaking is overpowering. To transport themselves and their effects in slow and toilsome ways, through hundreds of miles of weary wilderness, uninhabited except by foes, over beetling mountain ranges, across swift and dangerous rivers, through waterless deserts, in the shadow of continual dread, required a fortitude and staying power seldom equaled in the history of human effort. But above and beyond all this, they carried the profound convictions of Christian men and women, of patriots and martyrs. They battled with the forces of Nature and implacable enemies; they found, too, that their moral battles must be openly fought year after year, often in the face of riotous disregard of the laws of God and man. Arrived at their journey’s end, they planted the youngest scions of the Tree of Liberty; they founded churches and schools, carefully keeping the traditions of civilization, yet in many things finding greater and truer freedom than they had left behind. The noblest of epics, masterpieces of painting, stupendous operas or the grandest spectacular drama could but [Pg 17] [Pg 18] meagerly or feebly express the characters, experiences and environment of those who crossed the plains for the Pacific slope in the midst of the nineteenth century. “A mighty nation moving west, With all its steely sinews set Against the living forests. Hear The shouts, the shots of pioneers! The rended forests, rolling wheels, As if some half-checked army reels, Recoils, redoubles, comes again, Loud-sounding like a hurricane.” —Joaquin Miller. It is my intention to speak more especially of one little company who were destined to take a prominent part in the laying of foundations in the State of Washington. Previous to 1850, glowing accounts of the fertility, mildness, beauty and general desirability of Oregon Territory, which then included Washington, reached the former friends and acquaintances of Farley Pierce, Liberty Wallace, the Rudolphs and others who wrote letters concerning this favored land. Added to the impression made thereby, the perusal of Fremont’s travels, the desire for a change of climate from the rigorous one of Illinois, the possession of a pioneering spirit and the resolution was taken, “To the far Pacific Coast we will go;” acting upon it, they took their places in the great movement having for its watchword, “Westward Ho!” John Denny, a Kentuckian by birth, a pioneer of Indiana and Illinois, whose record as a soldier of 1812, a legislator in company and fraternal relations with Lincoln, Baker, Gates and Trumbull, distinguished him for the most admirable qualities, was the leading spirit; his wife, Sarah Latimer Denny, a Tennessean, thrifty, wise, faithful and far-seeing, who had for many widowed years previous to her marriage to John Denny, wrought out success in making a home and educating her three children in Illinois, was a fit leader of pioneer women. These, with their grown-up sons and daughters, children and grandchildren, began the great journey across the plains, starting from Cherry Grove, Knox County, Illinois, on April 10th, 1851. Four “prairie schooners,” as the canvas- covered wagons were called, three of them drawn by four-horse teams, one with a single span, a few saddle horses and two faithful watchdogs, whose value is well known to those who have traveled the wilds, made up the train. The names of these brave-hearted ones, ready to dare and endure all, are as follows: John Denny, Sarah Latimer Denny and their little daughter, Loretta; A. A. Denny, Mary A. Denny and their two children, Catherine and Lenora; C. D. Boren, Mrs. Boren and their daughter, Gertrude; the only unmarried woman, Miss Louisa Boren, sister of Mrs. A. A. Denny and C. D. Boren; C. Crawford and family; four unmarried sons of John Denny, D. T. Denny, James, Samuel and Wiley Denny. The wrench of parting with friends made a deep and lasting wound; no doubt every old pioneer of the Pacific Coast can recall the anguish of that parting, whose scars the healing years have never effaced. The route followed by our pioneers was the old emigrant road along the north side of the Platte River, down the Columbia and up the Willamette to Portland, Oregon Territory, which they afterwards left for their ultimate destination, Puget Sound, where they found Nature so bountiful, a climate so moderate and their surroundings so ennobling that I have often heard them say they had no wish to return to dwell in the country from whence they came. Past the last sign of civilization, the Mormon town of Kanesville, a mile or two east of the Missouri River, the prairie schooners were fairly out at sea. The great Missouri was crossed at Council Bluffs by ferryboat on the 5th of May. The site of the now populous city of Omaha was an untrodden waste. From thence they followed the beaten track of the many who had preceded them to California and Oregon. Hundreds of wagons had ground their way over the long road before them, and beside this road stretched the narrower beaten track of the ox-drivers. On the Platte, shortly after crossing the Missouri, a violent thunderstorm with sheets of rain fell upon them at night, blowing down their tents and saturating their belongings, thereby causing much discomfort and inconvenience. Of necessity the following day was spent in drying out the whole equipment. It served as a robust initiation in roughing it; up to that time they had carefully dressed in white night robes and lay down in neatly made beds, but many a night after this storm were glad to rest in the easiest way possible, when worn by travel and too utterly weary of the long day’s heat and dust, with grinding and bumping of wheels, to think of the niceties of dainty living. For a time spring smiled on all the land; along the Platte the prairies stretched away on either hand, delightfully green and fresh, on the horizon lay fleecy white clouds, islands of vapor in the ethereal azure sea above; but summer came on apace and the landscape became brown and parched. [Pg 19] [Pg 20] [Pg 21] [Pg 22] The second day west of the Missouri our train fell in with a long line of eighteen wagons drawn by horses, and fraternizing with the occupants, joined in one company. This new company elected John Denny as Captain. It did not prove a harmonious combination, however; discord arose, and nowhere does it seem to arise so easily as in camp. There was disagreement about standing guard; fault was found with the Captain and another was elected, but with no better results. Our pioneers found it convenient and far pleasanter to paddle their own canoes, or rather prairie schooners, and so left the contentious ones behind. Long days of travel followed over the monotonous expanse of prairie, each with scarcely varying incidents, toils and dangers. The stir of starting in the morning, the morning forward movement, the halt for the noonday meal, cooked over a fire of buffalo chips, and the long, weary afternoon of heat and dust whose passing brought the welcome night, marked the journey through the treeless region. At one of the noonings, the hopes of the party in a gastronomic line were woefully disappointed. A pailful of choice home-dried peaches, cooked with much care, had been set on a wagon tongue to cool and some unlucky movement precipitated the whole luscious, juicy mass into the sand below. It was an occurrence to make the visage lengthen, so far, far distant were the like of them from the hungry travelers. Fuel was scarce a large part of the way until west of Fort Laramie, the pitch pine in the Black Hills made such fires as delight the hearts of campers. In a stretch of two hundred miles but one tree was seen, a lone elm by the river Platte, which was finally cut down and the limbs used for firewood. When near this tree, the train camped over Sunday, and our party first saw buffaloes, a band of perhaps twenty. D. T. Denny and C. D. Boren of the party went hunting in the hills three miles from the camp but other hunters had been among them and scattered the band, killing only one or two; however they generously divided the meat with the new arrivals. Our two good hunters determined to get one if possible and tried stalking a shaggy-maned beast that was separated from the herd, a half mile from their horses left picketed on the grassy plain. Shots were fired at him without effect and he ran away unhurt, fortunately for himself as well as his pursuers. One of the hunters, D. T. Denny, said it might have been a very serious matter for them to have been charged by a wounded buffalo out on the treeless prairie where a man had nothing to dodge behind but his own shadow. On the prairie before they reached Fort Laramie a blinding hailstorm pelted the travelers. D. T. Denny, who was driving a four-horse team in the teeth of the storm, relates that the poor animals were quite restive, no doubt suffering much from their shelterless condition. They had been well provided for as to food; their drivers carried corn which lasted for two hundred miles. The rich grass of five hundred miles of prairie afforded luxurious living beyond this, and everywhere along the streams where camp was made there was an abundance of fresh herbage to be found. Many lonely graves were seen, graves of pioneers, with hopes as high, mayhap, as any, but who pitched their silent tents in the wilderness to await the Judgment Day. A deep solemnity fell upon the living as the train wound along, where on the side of a mountain was a lone grave heaped up with stones to protect it from the ravages of wolves. Tall pines stood around it and grass and flowers adorned it with nature’s broidery. Several joined in singing an old song beginning “I came to the place Where the white pilgrim lay, And pensively stood by his tomb, When in a low whisper I heard something say, ‘How sweetly I sleep here alone.’” Echoed only by the rustling of the boughs of scattered pines, moving gently in the wind. As they approached the upheaved mountainous country, lively interest, a keen delight in the novelty of their surroundings, and surprise at unexpected features were aroused in the minds of the travelers. A thoughtful one has said that the weird beauty of the Wind River Mountains impressed her deeply, their image has never left her memory and if she were an artist she could faithfully represent them on canvas. A surprise to the former prairie dwellers was the vast extent of the mountains, their imaginations having projected the sort of mountain range that is quite rare, a single unbroken ridge traversed by climbing up one side and going down the other! But they found this process must be repeated an indefinite number of times and over such roughness as their imaginations had never even suggested. What grinding, heaving and bumping over huge boulders! What shouting and urging of animals, what weary hours of tortured endurance dragged along! One of them remembers, too, perhaps vaguely, the suffering induced by an attack of the mysterious mountain fever. The desert also imposed its tax of misery. Only at night could the desert be safely crossed. Starting at four o’clock in the afternoon they traveled all the following night over an arid, desolate region, the Green River desert, thirty miles, a strange journey in the dimness of a summer night with only the star-lamps overhead. In sight of the river, the animals [Pg 23] [Pg 24] [Pg 25] [Pg 26] made a rush for the water and ran in to drink, taking the wagons with them. Often the names of the streams crossed were indicative of their character, suggestive of adventure or descriptive of their surroundings. Thus “Sweetwater” speaks eloquently of the refreshing draughts that slaked the thirst in contrast with the alkaline waters that were bitter; Burnt River flowed past the blackened remains of an ancient forest and Bear River may have been named for the ponderous game secured by a lucky hunter. By July of 1851 the train reached Old Fort Hall, composed of a stockade and log houses, situated on the Snake River, whose flood set toward the long-sought Pacific shore. While camped about a mile from the fort the Superintendent wrote for them directions for camping places where wood and water could be obtained, extending over the whole distance from Fort Hall to the Dalles of the Columbia River. He told James Denny, brother of D. T. Denny, that if they met Indians they must on no account stop at their call, saying that the Indians of that vicinity were renegade Shoshones and horse thieves. On the morning of the fifth of July an old Indian visited the camp, but no significance was attached to the incident, and all were soon moving quietly along in sight of the Snake River; the road lay on the south side of the river, which is there about two hundred yards wide. An encampment of Indians was observed, on the north side of the river, as they wound along by the American Falls, but no premonition of danger was felt, on the contrary, they were absorbed in the contemplation of the falls and basin below. Dark objects were seen to be moving on the surface of the wide pool and all supposed them to be ducks disporting themselves after the manner of harmless water fowl generally. What was their astonishment to behold them swiftly and simultaneously approach the river bank, spring out of the water and reveal themselves full grown savages! With guns and garments, but few of the latter probably, on their heads, they swam across and climbed up the bank to the level of the sage brush plain. The leader, attired in a plug hat and long, black overcoat flapping about his sinewy limbs, gun in hand, advanced toward the train calling out, “How-de-do! How-de-do! Stop! Stop!” twice repeating the words. The Captain, Grandfather John Denny, answered “Go back,” emphasizing the order by vigorous gestures. Mindful of the friendly caution of the Superintendent at Fort Hall, the train moved on. The gentleman of the plains retired to his band, who dodged back behind the sagebrush and began firing at the train. One bullet threw up the dust under the horse ridden by one of the company. The frightened women and children huddled down as low as possible in the bottoms of the wagons, expecting the shots to penetrate the canvas walls of their moving houses. In the last wagon, in the most exposed position, one of the mothers sat pale and trembling like an aspen leaf; the fate of the young sister and two little daughters in the event of capture, beside the danger of her own immediate death were too dreadful to contemplate. In their extremity one said, “O, why don’t they hurry! If I were driving I would lay on the lash!” When the Indians found that their shots took no effect, they changed their tactics and ran down along the margin of the river under shelter of the bank, to head off the train at a point where it must go down one hill and up another. There were seven men with five rifles and two rifle-pistols, but these would have been of little avail if the teams had been disabled. D. T. Denny drove the forward wagon, having one rifle and the pistols; three of the men were not armed. All understood the maneuver of the Indians and were anxious to hurry the teams unless it was Captain John Denny, who was an old soldier and may have preferred to fight. Sarah Denny, his wife, looked out and saw the Indians going down the river; no doubt she urged him to whip up. The order was given and after moments that seemed hours, down the long hill they rushed pell-mell, without lock or brake, the prairie schooners tossing like their namesakes on a stormy sea. What a breathless, panting, nightmare it seemed! If an axle had broken or a linchpin loosened the race would have been lost. But on, madly careening past the canyon where the Indians intended to intercept them, tearing up the opposite hill with desperate energy, expecting every moment to hear the blood-curdling warwhoop, nor did they slacken their speed to the usual pace for the remainder of the day. As night approached, the welcome light of a campfire, that of J. N. Low’s company, induced them to stop. This camp was on a level near a bluff; a narrow deep stream flowed by into the Snake River not far away. The cattle were corraled, with the wagons in a circle and a fire of brushwood built in the center. Around the Denny company’s campfire, the women who prepared the evening meal were in momentary fear of receiving a shot from an ambushed foe, lit as they were against the darkness, but happily their fears were not realized. Weary as the drivers were, guards were posted and watched all night. The dogs belonging to the train were doubtless a considerable protection, as they would have given the alarm had the enemy approached. One of the women went down to the brook the next morning to get water for the camp and saw the tracks of Indian ponies in the dust on the opposite side of the stream. Evidently they had followed the train to that point, but feared to attack the united forces of the two camps. After this race for life the men stood guard every night; one of them, D. T. Denny, was on duty one-half of every other night and alternately slept on the ground under one of the wagons. This was done until they reached the Cayuse country. On Burnt River they met thirty warriors, the advance guard of their tribe who were moving, women, children, drags and dogs. The Indians were friendly and cheeringly announced “Heap sleep now; we are good Indians.” [Pg 27] [Pg 28] [Pg 29] [Pg 30] The Denny and Low trains were well pleased to join their forces and traveled as one company until they reached their journey’s end. The day after the Indian attack, friendly visits were made and Mrs. J. N. Low recalls that she saw two women of Denny’s company frying cakes and doughnuts over the campfire, while two others were well occupied with the youngest of the travelers, who were infants. There were six men and two women in Low’s company and when the two companies joined they felt quite strong and traveled unmolested the remainder of the way. An exchange of experiences brought out the fact that Low’s company had crossed the Missouri the third day of May and had traveled on the south side of the Platte at the same time the Denny company made their way along the north side of the same stream. At a tributary called Big Blue, as Mrs. Low relates, she observed the clouds rolling up and admonished her husband to whip up or they would not be able to cross for days if they delayed; they crossed, ascended the bluffs where there was a semicircle of trees, loosed the cattle and picketed the horses. By evening the storm reached them with lightning, heavy thunder and great piles of hail. The next morning the water had risen half way up tall trees. The Indians stole the lead horse of one of the four-horse teams and Mrs. Low rode the other on a man’s saddle. Many western equestriennes have learned to be not too particular as to horse, habit or saddle and have proven also the greater safety and convenience of cross-saddle riding. In the Black Hills while traveling along the crest of a high ridge, where to get out of the road would have been disastrous, the train was met by a band of Indians on ponies, who pressed up to the wagons in a rather embarrassing way, bent apparently upon riding between and separating the teams, but the drivers were too wise to permit this and kept close together, without stopping to parley with them, and after riding alongside for some distance, the designing but baffled redskins withdrew. The presence of the native inhabitants sometimes proved a convenience; especially was this true of the more peaceable tribes of the far west. On the Umatilla River the travelers were glad to obtain the first fresh vegetable since leaving the cultivated gardens and fields of their old homes months before. One of the women traded a calico apron for green peas, which were regarded as a great treat and much enjoyed. Farther on, as they neared the Columbia, Captain Low, who was riding ahead of the train, met Indians with salmon, eager to purchase so fine a fish and not wishing to stop the wagon, pulled off an overshirt over his head and exchanged it for the piscatorial prize. The food that had sustained them on the long march was almost military in its simplicity. Corn meal, flour, rice (a little, as it was not then in common use), beans, bacon and dried fruits were the main dependence. They could spend but little time hunting and fishing. On Bear River “David” and “Louisa” each caught a trout, fine, speckled beauties. “David” and the other hunters of the company also killed sage hens, antelope and buffalo. After leaving the Missouri River they had no opportunity to buy anything until they reached the Snake River, where they purchased some dried salmon of the Indians. CHAPTER II DOWN THE COLUMBIA IN ’51. After eighty days travel over one thousand seven hundred sixty-five miles of road these weary pilgrims reached the mighty river of the West, the vast Columbia. At The Dalles, the road Across the Plains was finished, from thence the great waterways would lead them to their journey’s end. It was there the immigrants first feasted on the delicious river salmon, fresh from the foaming waters. The Indians boiled theirs, making a savory soup, the odor of which would almost have fed a hungry man; the white people cooked goodly pieces in the trusty camp frying pan. Not then accustomed to such finny monsters, they found a comparison for the huge cuts as like unto sides of pork, and a receptacle for the giant’s morsels in a seaworthy washingtub. However, high living will pall unto the taste; one may really tire of an uninterrupted piscatorial banquet, and one of the company, A. A. Denny, declared his intention of introducing some variety in the bill of fare. “Plague take it,” he said, “I’m tired of salmon—I’m going to have some chicken.” But alas! the gallinaceous fowl, roaming freely at large, had also feasted frequently on fragments no longer fresh of the overplus of salmon, and its flavor was indescribable, wholly impossible, as the French say. It was “fishy” fish rather than fowl. [Pg 31] [Pg 32] [Pg 33] [Pg 34] [Pg 35] At The Dalles the company divided, one party composed of a majority of the men started over the mountains with the wagons and teams; the women and children prepared to descend the river in boats. In one boat, seated on top of the “plunder” were Mrs. A. A. Denny and two children, Miss Louisa Boren, Mrs. Low and four children and Mrs. Boren and one child. The other boat was loaded in like manner with a great variety of useful and necessary articles, heaped up, on top of which sat several women and children, among whom were Mrs. Sarah Denny, grandmother of the writer, and her little daughter, Loretta. A long summer day was spent in floating down the great canyon where the majestic Columbia cleaves the Cascade Range in twain. The succeeding night the first boat landed on an island in the river, and the voyagers went ashore to camp. During the night one of the little girls, Gertrude Boren, rolled out of her bed and narrowly escaped falling into the hurrying stream; had she done so she must have certainly been lost, but a kind Providence decreed otherwise. Re- embarking the following day, gliding swiftly on the current, they traversed a considerable distance and the second night approached the Cascades. Swifter and more turbulent, the rushing flood began to break in more furious foam-wreaths on every jagged rock, impotently striving to stay its onward rush to the limitless ocean. Sufficient light enabled the observing eye to perceive the writhing surface of the angry waters, but the boatmen were stupified with drink! All day long they had passed a bottle about which contained a liquid facetiously called “Blue Ruin” and near enough their ruin it proved. I have penned the following description which met with the approval of one of the principal actors in what so nearly proved a tragedy: It was midnight on the mighty Columbia. A waning moon cast a glowworm light on the dark, rushing river; all but one of the weary women and tired little children were deeply sunken in sleep. The oars creaked and dipped monotonously; the river sang louder and louder every boat’s length. Drunken, bloated faces leered foolishly and idiotically; they admonished each other to “Keep ’er goin’.” The solitary watcher stirred uneasily, looked at the long lines of foam out in midstream and saw how fiercely the white waves contended, and far swifter flew the waters than at any hour before. What was the meaning of it? Hark! that humming, buzzing, hissing, nay, bellowing roar! The blood flew to her brain and made her senses reel; they must be nearing the last landing above the falls, the great Cascades of the Columbia. But the crew gave no heed. Suddenly she cried out sharply to her sleeping sister, “Mary! Mary! wake up! we are nearing the falls, I hear them roar.” “What is it, Liza?” she said sleepily. “O, wake up! we shall all be drowned, the men don’t know what they are doing.” The rudely awakened sleepers seemed dazed and did not make much outcry, but a strong young figure climbed over the mass of baggage and confronting the drunken boatmen, plead, urged and besought them, if they considered their own lives, or their helpless freight of humanity, to make for the shore. “Oh, men,” she pleaded, “don’t you hear the falls, they roar louder now. It will soon be too late, I beseech you turn the boat to shore. Look at the rapids beyond us!” “Thar haint no danger, Miss, leastways not yet; wots all this fuss about anyhow? No danger,” answered one who was a little disturbed; the others were almost too much stupified to understand her words and stood staring at the bareheaded, black haired young woman as if she were an apparition and were no more alarmed than if the warning were given as a curious mechanical performance, having no reference to themselves. Repeating her request with greater earnestness, if possible, a man’s voice broke in saying, “I believe she is right, put in men quick, none of us want to be drowned.” Fortunately this penetrated their besotted minds and they put about in time to save the lives of all on board, although they landed some distance below the usual place. A little farther and they would have been past all human help. One of the boatmen cheerfully acknowledged the next day that if it “hadn’t been fur that purty girl they had a’ gone over them falls, shure.” The other boat had a similar experience; it began to leak profusely before they had gone very far and would soon have sunk, had not the crew, who doubtless were sober, made all haste to land. My grandmother has often related to me how she clapsed her little child to her heart and resigned herself to a fate which [Pg 36] [Pg 37] [Pg 38] seemed inevitable; also of a Mrs. McCarthy, a passenger likewise, becoming greatly excited and alternately swearing and praying until the danger was past. An inconvenient but amusing feature was the soaked condition of the “plunder” and the way the shore and shrubbery thereon were decorated with “hiyu ictas,” as the Chinook has it, hung out to dry. Finding it impossible to proceed, this detachment returned and took the mountain road. A tramway built by F. A. Chenoweth, around the great falls, afforded transportation for the baggage of the narrowly saved first described. There being no accommodations for passengers, the party walked the tramroad; at the terminus they unloaded and stayed all night. No “commodious and elegant” steamer awaited them, but an old brig, bound for Portland, received them and their effects. Such variety of adventure had but recently crowded upon them that it was almost fearfully they re-embarked. A. A. Denny observed to Captain Low, “Look here, Low, they say women are scarce in Oregon and we had better be careful of ours.” Presumably they were, as both survive at the present day. From a proud ranger of the dashing main, the old brig had come down to be a carrier of salt salmon packed in barrels, and plunder of immigrants; as for the luckless passengers, they accommodated themselves as best they could. The small children were tied to the mast to keep them from falling overboard, as there were no bulwarks. Beds were made below on the barrels before mentioned and the travel-worn lay down, but not to rest; the mosquitos were a bloodthirsty throng and the beds were likened unto a corduroy road. One of the women grumbled a little and an investigation proved that it was, as her husband said, “Nothing but the tea- kettle” wedged in between the barrels. Another lost a moccasin overboard and having worn out all her shoes on the way, went with one stockinged foot until they turned up the Willamette River, then went ashore to a farmhouse where she was so fortunate as to find the owner of a new pair of shoes which she bought, and was thus able to enter the “city” of Portland in appropriate footgear. After such vicissitudes, dangers and anxiety, the little company were glad to tarry in the embryo metropolis for a brief season; then, having heard of fairer shores, the restless pioneers moved on. CHAPTER III THE SETTLEMENT AT ALKI. Midway between Port Townsend and Olympia, in full view looking west from the city of Seattle, is a long tongue of land, washed by the sparkling waves of Puget Sound, called Alki Point. It helps to make Elliott Bay a beautiful land- locked harbor and is regarded with interest as being the site of the first settlement by white people in King County in what was then the Territory of Oregon. Alki is an Indian word pronounced with the accent on the first syllable, which is al as in altitude; ki is spoken as ky in silky. Alki means “by and by.” It doth truly fret the soul of the old settler to see it printed and hear it pronounced Al-ki. The first movement toward its occupancy was on this wise: A small detachment of the advancing column of settlers, D. T. Denny and J. N. Low, left Portland on the Willamette, on the 10th of September, 1851, with two horses carrying provisions and camp outfit. These men walked to the Columbia River to round up a band of cattle belonging to Low. The cattle were ferried over the river at Vancouver and from thence driven over the old Hudson Bay Company’s trail to the mouth of Cowlitz River, a tributary of the Columbia, up the Cowlitz to Warbass Landing and on to Ford’s prairie, a wide and rich one, where the band were left to graze on the luxuriant pasturage. On a steep, rocky trail along the Cowlitz River, Denny was following along not far behind a big, yellow ox that was scrambling up, trying vainly to get a firm foothold, when Low, foreseeing calamity, called to him to “Look out!” Denny swerved a little from the path and at that moment the animal lost its footing and came tumbling past them, rolling over several times until it landed on a lower level, breaking off one of its horns. Here was a narrow escape although not from a wild beast. They could not then stop to secure the animal although it was restored to the flock some time after. From Ford’s prairie, although footsore and weary, they kept on their way until Olympia was reached. It was a long tramp of perhaps two hundred fifty miles, the exact distance could not be ascertained as the trail was very winding. As described by one of our earliest historians, Olympia then consisted of about a dozen one-story frame cabins, covered with split cedar siding, well ventilated and healthy, and perhaps twice as many Indian huts near the custom house, as Olympia was then the port of entry for Puget Sound. The last mentioned structure afforded space on the ground floor for a store, with a small room partitioned off for a postoffice. [Pg 39] [Pg 40] [Pg 41] [Pg 42] Our two pioneers found here Lee Terry, who had been engaged in loading a sailing vessel with piles. He fell in with the two persistent pedestrians and thus formed a triumvirate of conquerors of a new world. The pioneers tarried not in the embryo city but pushed on farther down the great Inland Sea. With Captain Fay and several others they embarked in an open boat, the Captain, who owned the boat, intending to purchase salmon of the Indians for the San Francisco market. Fay was an old whaling captain. He afterwards married Mrs. Alexander, a widow of Whidby Island, and lived there until his death. The little party spent their first night on the untrod shores of Sgwudux, the Indian name of the promontory now occupied by West Seattle, landing on the afternoon of September 25th, 1851, and sleeping that night under the protecting boughs of a giant cedar tree. On the 26th, Low, Denny and Terry hired two young Indians of Chief Sealth’s (Seattle’s) tillicum (people), who were camped near by, to take them up the Duwampsh River in a canoe. Safely seated, the paddles dipped and away they sped over the dancing waves. The weather was fair, the air clear and a magnificent panorama spread around them. The whole forest-clad encircling shores of Elliott Bay, untouched by fire or ax, the tall evergreens thickly set in a dense mass to the water’s edge stood on every hand. The great white dome of Mount Rainier, 14,444 feet high, before them, toward which they traveled; behind them, stretched along the western horizon, Towiat or Olympics, a grand range of snow-capped mountains whose foothills were covered with a continuous forest. Entering the Duwampsh River and ascending for several miles they reached the farther margin of a prairie where Low and Terry, having landed, set out over an Indian trail through the woods, to look at the country, while Denny followed on the river with the Indians. On and on they went until Denny became anxious and fired off his gun but received neither shot nor shout in answer. The day waned, it was growing dark, and as he returned the narrow deep river took on a melancholy aspect, the great forest was gloomy with unknown fears, and he was alone with strange, wild men whose language was almost unintelligible. Nevertheless, he landed and camped with them at a place known afterward as the Maple Prairie. Morning of the 27th of September saw them paddling up the river again in search of the other two explorers, whom they met coming down in a canoe. They had kept on the trail until an Indian camp was reached at the junction of Black and Duwampsh Rivers the night before. All returned to Sgwudux, their starting point, to sleep under the cedar tree another night. On the evening of the 27th a scow appeared and stopped near shore where the water was quite deep. Two women on board conversed with Captain Fay in Chinook, evidently quite proud of their knowledge of the trade jargon of the Northwest. The scow moved on up Elliott Bay, entered Duwampsh River and ascended it to the claim of L. M. Collins, where another settlement sprang into existence. On the 28th the pioneers moved their camp to Alki Point or Sma-qua-mox as it was named by the Indians. Captain Fay returned from down the Sound on the forenoon of the 28th. That night, as they sat around the campfire, the pioneers talked of their projected building and the idea of split stuff was advanced, when Captain Fay remarked, “Well, I think a log house is better in an Indian country.” “Why, do you think there is any danger from the Indians?” he was quickly asked. “Well,” he replied, with a sly twinkle in his eye, “It would keep off the stray bullets when they poo mowich” (shoot deer). These hints, coupled with subsequent experiences, awoke the anxiety of D. T. Denny, who soon saw that there were swarms of savages to the northward. Those near by were friendly, but what of those farther away? One foggy morning, when the distance was veiled in obscurity, the two young white men, Lee and David, were startled to see a big canoe full of wild Indians from away down the Sound thrust right out of the dense fog; they landed and came ashore; the chief was a tall, brawny fellow with a black beard. They were very impudent, crowding on them and trying to get into the little brush tent, but Lee Terry stood in the door-way leaning, or braced rather, against the tree upon which one end of the frail habitation was fastened. The white men succeeded in avoiding trouble but they felt inwardly rather “shaky” and were much relieved when their rude visitors departed. These Indians were Skagits. The brush shelter referred to was made of boughs laid over a pole placed in the crotch of another pole at one end, the other end being held by a crotch fastened to a tree. In it was placed their scanty outfit and supplies, and there they slept while the cabin was building. A townsite was located and named “New York,” which no doubt killed the place, exotics do not thrive in the Northwest; however, the name was after changed to Alki. D. T. Denny and Lee Terry were left to take care of the “townsite” while J. N. Low returned with Captain Fay to Olympia and footed it over the trail again to the Columbia. He carried with him a letter to A. A. Denny in Portland, remarkable as the first one penned by D. T. Denny on Puget Sound, also in that upon it and the account given by Low depended the decision of the rest of the party to settle on the shores of the great Inland Sea. The substance of the letter was, “Come as soon as you can; we have found a valley that will accommodate one thousand families,” referring to that [Pg 43] [Pg 44] [Pg 45] [Pg 46] [Pg 47] of the Duwampsh River. These two, David T. Denny and Lee Terry, proceeded to lay the foundation of the first cabin built on Elliott Bay and also the first in King County. Their only tools were an ax and a hammer. The logs were too heavy for the two white men to handle by themselves, and after they were cut, passing Indians, muscular braves, were called on to assist, which they willingly did, Mr. Denny giving them bread as a reward, the same being an unaccustomed luxury to them. Several days after the foundation was laid, L. M. Collins and “Nesqually John,” an Indian, passed by the camp and rising cabin, driving oxen along the beach, on their way to the claim selected by Collins on the fertile banks of the Duwampsh River. When D. T. Denny and Lee Terry wrote their names on the first page of our history, they could not fully realize the import of their every act, yet no doubt they were visionary. Sleeping in their little brush tent at night, what dreams may have visited them! Dreams, perhaps, of fleets of white-winged ships with the commerce of many nations, of busy cities, of throngs of people. Probably they set about chopping down the tall fir trees in a cheerful mood, singing and whistling to the astonishment of the pine squirrels and screech owls thus rudely disturbed. Their camp equipage and arrangements were of the simplest and rudest and Mr. Denny relates that Lee Terry would not cook so he did the cooking. He made a “johnny cake” board of willow wood to bake bread upon. Fish and game were cooked before the camp fire. The only cooking vessel was a tin pail. One evening Old Duwampsh Curley, whose Indian name was Su-whalth, with several others, visited them and begged the privilege of camping near by. Permission given, the Indians built a fire and proceeded to roast a fine, fat duck transfixed on a sharp stick, placing a large clam shell underneath to catch the gravy. When it was cooked to their minds, Curley offered a choice cut to the white men, who thanked him but declined to partake, saying that they had eaten their supper. Old Curley remembered it and in after years often reminded his white friend of the incident, laughing slyly, “He! He! Boston man halo tikke Siwash muck-a-muck” (white man do not like Indian’s food), knowing perfectly well the reason they would not accept the proffered dainty. J. N. Low had returned to Portland and Terry went to Olympia on the return trip of Collins’ scow, leaving David T. Denny alone with “New York,” the unfinished cabin and the Indians. For three weeks he was the sole occupant and was ill a part of the time. Meanwhile, the families left behind had not been idle, but having made up their minds that the end of their rainbow rested on Puget Sound, set sail on the schooner “Exact,” with others who intended to settle at various points on the Inland Sea, likewise a party of gold hunters bound for Queen Charlotte’s Island. They were one week getting around Cape Flattery and up the Sound as far as Alki Point. It was a rough intr...