Читать книгу Summary Narrative of an Exploratory Expedition to the Sources of the Mississippi River, in 1820 - Henry Rowe Schoolcraft - Страница 13

Table of Contents

Reunion of the expedition on the Savanna Portage—Elevation of this summit—Descent to Sandy Lake—Council with the Chippewa tribe—Who are they?—Traits of their history, language, and customs—Enter the Mississippi, with a sub-exploring party, and proceed in search of its source—Physical characteristics of the stream at this place—Character of the Canadian voyageur!

On rising on the next morning (14th July), our minds were firmly set, at the earliest moment, to rejoin the main expedition, which had been toiling its way up the St. Louis River to the Savanna Portage. And as soon as we had dispatched our breakfast at the Post, we set out, accompanied by one of the trading clerks, for that noted carrying place between the waters of the St. Louis and Sandy Lake. We reached its northwestern terminus at about twelve o'clock, and were surprised to find Gov. Cass, with some of his party, and a part of the baggage, already there; and by five o'clock in the afternoon the last of the latter, together with the canoes, arrived. And it was then, in the exhausted state of the men, and at so late an hour, concluded to encamp, and await the morning to commence the descent of the west Savannè to the lake.

The expedition had, after we left them at the Portage aux Coteaux on the 10th, and being thus relieved of our weight, urged its way up the river, with labor, about fifty-six miles, to the inlet of the east Savannè, having surmounted, in this distance, rapids of the aggregate estimated height of two hundred and twelve feet, which occupied two days. They then ascended the Savannè twenty-four miles, rising eighteen feet. The portage, from water to water, is six miles. It commences in a tamarak swamp, from which the bog, in a dry season, has been burnt off, leaving the path a mass of mire. Trees and sticks have, from time to time, been laid in this to walk on, which it requires the skill of a balancing master to keep. For the distance of three pozes [pauses] this is the condition of the path; afterwards, the footing becomes dry, and there are ascending sand ridges, which are easily crossed.

Dr. Wolcott, to whom I had handed my geological note-book, made the following observations. "We left the vertical strata of slate, about two miles above the Portage aux Coteaux. They were succeeded by rocks of hornblende, which continued the whole distance to the head of the Grand Rapid. These rocks were only to be observed in the bed of the river, and appeared to be much water-worn, and manifestly out of place. Soon after we left the Portage aux Coteaux, the hills receded from the river, and its banks for the rest of the way were generally low, often alluvial, and always covered with a thick growth of birch, elm, sugar-tree (acer saccharinum), and the whole tribe of pines, with an almost impenetrable thicket of underbrush.

"The appearances of this day (11th) have been similar to those of yesterday, except that the country bordering the river became entirely alluvial, and the poplar became the predominating growth, while the evergreen almost entirely disappeared. The rocks were seldom visible, except upon the rapids, and then only in the bed of the river, and were entirely composed of hornblende, all out of place, and exhibiting no signs of stratification, but evidently thrown confusedly together by the force of the current.

"The Savannè River is about twenty yards broad at its junction with the St. Louis, but soon narrows to about half the breadth, which it retains until it forks at the distance of about twelve miles from its mouth. Its whole course runs through a low marshy meadow, the timbered land occasionally reaching to the banks of the river, but generally keeping a distance of about twenty rods on either side. The meadow is, for the most part, covered with tufts of willow and other shrubs, common to marshes. The woods, which skirt it, are of the same kinds observed on the preceding days, except that a species of small oak frequently appears among it. The river becomes so narrow towards its head, that it is with great difficulty canoes can make their way through its windings; and the portage commences a mile or two from its source, which is in a tamarak swamp."

The height of land between the east and west Savannè, Dr. Wolcott estimates at about thirty feet. Adding to this elevation the estimates of Capt. Douglass, before mentioned, the entire elevation between the foot of the falls of the St. Louis and the apex of this summit is three hundred and sixty-eight feet. [64]

Having exchanged congratulations, and recited to each other the little personal incidents which had marked our respective tracks of entry into the country, we passed the night on the sources of this little stream; and the next morning, at five o'clock, began its descent. It is a mere brook, only deep enough, at this spot, to embark the canoes, and two men to manage them. At the distances of four, and of twelve miles, there are rapids, where half the loads are carried over portages. At the foot of the latter rapid, there is a tributary called Ox Creek, and from this point to the lake, a distance of six miles, the navigation is practicable with full loads. We entered the lake with pleasurable feelings, at the accomplishment of our transit over this summit, and after a passage of three miles over the calm and sylvan surface of the lake, the expedition reached and landed at the company's fort. It was now four o'clock in the afternoon of a most serene day, and the Indians, who were gathered on the shores, received us with a salute a la mode de savage, that is, with balls fired over our heads. Quarters were provided in the fort for such as did not prefer to lodge in tents. Understanding that there was to be a day's rest at this post, to reorganize the party, and hold intercourse with the Indians, each one prepared to make such use of his time as best subserved his purposes. Finding my baggage had been wetted and damaged on the portages in the ascent of the St. Louis, I separated the moulded and ruined from things still worth saving, and drying the latter in the sun, prepared them for further use.

On the day after our arrival (16th) a council of the Indians—the Chippewas—was convened. The principal chiefs were Kadewabedas, [65] or Broken Teeth, and Babisekundeba, [66] or the Curly Head. This tribe, it appears, are conquerors in the country, having at an early, or ante-historical age, advanced from Lake Superior, driving back the Sioux. The war between these two tribes is known to have existed since the first entry of the French into the country—then a part of New France—early in the seventeenth century. Gov. Cass proposed to them to enter into a firm peace with the Sioux, and to send a delegation with him to St. Peter's, on his return from the sources of the Mississippi. To this they assented. Speeches were made by the Indians, which it is not my purpose to record, as they embraced nothing beyond the ordinary, every-day style of the native speakers.

It was determined to encamp the heavy part of the expedition at this place, and to organize a sub-expedition of two light canoes, well manned, to explore the sources of the Mississippi River. While these arrangements are in progress, it may be proper to state something more respecting the condition and history of the Chippewa nation. And first, they are Algonquins, having migrated, at ante-Cartierian [67] periods, from the vicinity of Lake Nippesing, on the Outawis summit. Anterior to this, their own traditions place them further eastward, and their language bears evidence that the stock from which they are sprung, occupied the Atlantic from the Chesapeake, extending through New England. The name Chippewa is derived from the term Ojibwa. The latter has been variously, but not satisfactorily derived. The particle bwa, in the language, signifies voice. They are a well-formed, active race of men, and have the reputation of being good hunters and warriors. They possess the ordinary black shining eyes, black straight hair, and general physiological traits of the Indian race; and do not differ, essentially, from the northern tribes in their manners and customs. Pike, who was the first American officer to visit them, in this region, estimates the whole number seated on the Upper Mississippi, and northwest of Lake Superior, in the year 1806, at eleven thousand one hundred and seventy-seven. This estimate includes the entire population, extending south to the St. Croix and Chippewa valleys, below St. Anthony's Falls. It is believed to be much too high, for which it can be plead in extenuation, that it was the rough estimate of foreign traders, who were interested in exalting their importance to the United States. Certain it is, there are not more than half the numbers, in this region, at present. The number which he assigns to the Sandy Lake band is three hundred and forty-five.

The Chippewas of the Upper Mississippi are, in fact, the advanced band of the widespread Algonquin family, who, after spreading along the Atlantic from Virginia, as far as the Gulf of St. Lawrence, have followed up the great chain of lakes, to this region, leaving tribes of more or less variation of language on the way. There may have been a thousand years, or more, expended on this ethnological track, and the names by which they were, at various ages and places, known, are only important as being derivatives from a generic stock of languages whose radicals are readily recognized. Furthest removed, in the line of migration, appear the Mohicans, Lenno Lenawpees, Susquehannocks, and Powatans, and their congeners. The tribes of this continent appear, indeed, to have been impelled in circles, resembling the whirlwinds which have swept over its surface; and, so far as relates to the mental power which set them in motion, the comparison also holds good, for the effects of their migrations appear, everywhere, to have been war and destruction. One age appears to produce no wiser men than another. Having no mode of recording knowledge, experience dies with the generation who felt it, all except the doubtful and imprecise data of tradition; and this is little to be trusted, after a century or two. For the matter of exact history, they might as well trace themselves to the moon, as some of their mythological stories do, as to any other planet, or part of a planet. Of their language, the only certainly reliable thing in their history, a vocabulary is given in the Appendix. To the ear, it appears flowing and agreeable, and not of difficult utterance; and there is abundant reason, on beholding how readily they express themselves, for the plaudits which the early French writers bestowed on the Algonquin language.

We observed the custom of these Indians of placing their dead on scaffolds. The corpse is carefully wrapped in bark, and then elevated on a platform made by placing transverse pieces in forks of trees, or on posts, firmly set in the ground. This custom is said to have been borrowed by the Chippewas, of this quarter, from the Dacotahs or Sioux. When they bury in the ground, which is the general custom, a roof of bark is put over the deceased. This inclosure has an aperture cut in it at the head, through which a dish of food is set for the dead. Oblations of liquor are also sometimes made. This ancient custom of offering food and oblations to the dead, reminds the reader of similar customs among some of the barbarous tribes of the oriental world. We noticed also symbolic devices similar to those seen at Huron River or Lake Superior, inscribed on posts set at the head of Indian graves. It seems to be the prime object of these inscriptions to reveal the family name, or totem, as it is called, of the deceased, together with devices denoting the number of times he has been in battle, and the number of scalps he has taken. As this test of bravery is the prime object of an Indian's life, the greatest efforts are made to attain it.

A word may be said as to the climate and soil of this region, and their adaptation to the purposes of agriculture. By the tables of temperature annexed (vide Appendix), the mean solar heat, in the shade, during the time of our being in the country, is shown to be 67°. It is evident that it is the idle habits of the Indians, and no adverse circumstances of climate or soil, that prevent their raising crops for their subsistence.

Arrangements for a light party to ascend the Mississippi, and seek for its sources, having been made, we left Sandy Lake, in two canoes, at nine o'clock in the morning on the 17th. This party, in addition to his Excellency Gov. Cass, consisted of Dr. Alex. Wolcott, Capt. Douglass, Lieut. Mackay, Maj. Forsyth, and myself, with nineteen voyageurs and Indians, provisioned for twelve days. A voyage of about a mile across the western prolongation of the lake, brought us to its outlet—a wide winding stream, with a very perceptible current, and rich alluvial banks, bearing a forest. After pursuing it some mile and a half, we descended a small rapid, where the average descent of water in a short distance may be perhaps three feet; it appeared, however, to give the men no concern, for they urged their way down it, with full strength of paddle and song, and we soon found ourselves in the Mississippi. The first sight of this stream reminded me of one of its striking characteristics, at far lower points, namely, its rapidity. Its waters are slightly turbid, with a reddish tint. Its width, at this point, as denoted by admeasurements subsequently made, [68] is three hundred and thirty-one feet. Its banks are alluvial and of a fertile aspect, bearing a forest of oaks, maples, elms, ash, and pines, with a dense undergrowth of shrubbery. I observed a species of polyganum in the water's edge, and wherever we attempted to land it was miry and the borders wet and damp. We were now, from our notes, a hundred and forty-seven miles due west of the head of Lake Superior, by the curved lines of travelling, and probably one hundred in an air line; and had struck the channel of the Mississippi, not less, by the estimates, than two thousand five hundred miles above its mouth on the Gulf of Mexico. It could not, from the very vague accounts we could obtain from the traders, originate, at the utmost, more than three hundred miles higher, and our Canadian voyageurs turned up the stream, with that Troubadour air, or gaite de cour, keeping time with song and paddle, with which New France had at first been traversed by its Champlains, Marquettes, and Frontenacs. To conquer distance and labor, at the same time, with a song, has occurred to no other people, and if these men are not happy, in these voyages, they, at least, have the semblance of it, and are merry. To keep up this flow of spirits, and bravery of capacity in demolishing distances, they always overrate the per diem travel, which, as I have before observed, is put about one-third too high—that is to say, their league is about two miles. On we went, at this rapid rate, stopping every half hour to rest five minutes. During this brief rest, their big kettle of boiled corn and pork was occasionally brought forward, and dipped in, with great fervency of spoon; but, whether eating or working, they were always gay, and most completely relieved from any care of what might happen to-morrow. For the mess kettle was ever most amply supplied, and not according to the scanty pattern which these couriers de bois often encounter in the Indian trade on these summits, when they are sometimes reduced to dine on tripe de Roche and sup on buton de rose; but they bore in mind that their employer, namely, Uncle Sam, was a full-handed man, and they kept up a most commendable mental balance, by at once eating strong and working strong.

During the first twenty-seven miles, above the inlet of Sandy Lake, we passed six small rapids, at distances of three, four, three, one, five, and eleven miles, where the river sinks its level twenty-nine feet, in the estimated aggregate distance of seven hundred yards. [69] Above the latter, extending twenty miles, to the point of our encampment, there is no perceptible rapid. It was eight o'clock when we encamped, having been eleven hours in our canoes, without stretching our legs, and we had ascended forty-six miles.