Читать книгу Summary Narrative of an Exploratory Expedition to the Sources of the Mississippi River, in 1820 - Henry Rowe Schoolcraft - Страница 16

Table of Contents

Physical traits of the Mississippi—The elevation of its sources—Its velocity and mean descent—Etymology of the name Mississippi—Descent of the river to Sandy Lake, and thence to the Falls of St. Anthony—Recross the great Bitobi Savanna—Pakagama formation—Description of the voyage from Sandy Lake to Pine River—Brief notices of the natural history.

The third geographical division in which it is proposed to consider the Mississippi, begins at the Falls of St. Anthony. Within half a day's march, before reaching this point from its sources, the primitive and crystallized, and the altered and basaltic rocks are succeeded by the great limestone and sandstone horizontal series of the carboniferous, magnesian, and metalliferous rocks, which constitute by themselves so extraordinary a body of geological phenomena. Entering on the level of the white sandstone stratum, which is fundamental in this column, about the inlet of Rum River, the Mississippi urges its way over a gently inclining bed of this rock, to the brink of this cataract, where it drops perpendicularly about sixteen feet; but the whole descent of its level from the head to the foot of the portage path, cannot be less than double that height.

The river, at this point, enters a valley which is defined by rocky cliffs, which attain various elevations from one to three hundred feet, presenting a succession of picturesque or sublime views. In some places these cliffs present a precipitous and abrupt façade, washed by the current. In far the greatest number of cases, the eminence has lost its sharp angles through the effects of frosts, rains, and elemental action, leaving a slope of debris at the foot. As the river descends, it increases in volume and in the extent of its alluvions. These form, in an especial manner, its characteristic features from St. Anthony's Falls to the junction of the Missouri, a distance of not less than eight hundred miles. The principal tributaries which it receives in this distance, are, on the right, the St. Peter's, Upper and Lower Iowa, Turkey River, Desmoines, and Salt Rivers; and, on the left, the St. Croix, Chippewa, Wisconsin, Rock River, and the Illinois. One hundred miles below St. Anthony, it expands for a distance of twenty-four miles into the sylvan sheet of Lake Pepin, at the foot of which it receives the large volume of the Chippewa River, which originates on the sandy tracts at the sources of the Wisconsin, Montreal, and Ontonagon; and it is from this point that its continually widening channel exhibits those innumerable and changing sand-bars, which so embarrass the navigation. But in all this distance, it is only at the Desmoines and Rock River rapids that any permanent serious impediment is found in its navigation, with the larger craft.

The fourth change in the physical aspect of this river, is at the junction of the Missouri, and this is an almost total and complete one; for this river brings down such a vast and turbid flood of commingled earths and floating matter, that it characterizes this stream to its entrance into the Gulf of Mexico. If its length of channel, velocity, and other leading phenomena had been accurately known at an early day, it should also have carried its name from this point to the ocean. Down to this point, the Mississippi, at its summer phases, carries the character of a comparatively clear stream. But the Missouri, which, from its great length and remote latitude, has a summer freshet, flows in with a flood so turbid and opaque, that it immediately communicates its qualities and hue to the milder Mississippi. At certain seasons, the struggle between the clear and turbid waters of the two streams can be seen, at opposite sides of the river, at the distance of twenty or thirty miles. Entire trees, sometimes ninety feet long, with their giant arms, are swept down the current; and it is not unusual, at its highest flood, to observe large, spongy masses of a species of pseudo pumice carried into its channel, from some of its higher western tributaries.

To such a moving, overpowering liquid mass, there are still, below the Missouri, rocky banks, and occasionally isolated cliffs, to stand up and resist its sweep; but its alluvions become wider and deeper opposite to these rocky barriers. Its bends stretch over greater distances, and its channel grows deeper at every accession of a tributary. The chief of these, after passing the Missouri, are from the Rocky Mountains and Ozark slopes, the St. Francis, White, Arkansas, and Red Rivers; and from the other bank the Kaskaskia, the Ohio, Wolf, and Yazoo. It is estimated to flow twelve hundred miles below the Missouri. Its width is about one mile opposite St. Louis. It is narrower but more than twice the depth at New Orleans, and yet narrower, because more divided, at its embouchure at the Balize, where a bar prevents ships drawing over eighteen feet of water from entering.

No attempt has heretofore been made to determine the elevation of that part of the American continent which gives rise to the Mississippi River. From the observations made on the expedition, the elevation is confessedly less than would _à priori_ be supposed. If it is not, like the Nile, cradled among mountains, whose very altitude and position are unknown, there is enough of the unknown about its origin to wish for more information. Originating on a vast continental plateau, or watershed, the superabundance of its waters are drained off by the three greatest rivers of North America, namely, the St. Lawrence, the Nelson's rivers of Hudson's Bay, and the Mississippi. Yet the apex of this height of land is moderate, although its distance from the sea at either point is immense. From the best data at command, I have endeavored to come at the probable altitude of this plateau, availing myself at the same time of the judgment of the several members of the expedition. Taking the elevation of Lake Erie above tide-water, as instrumentally determined, in the New York surveys, as a basis, we find Lake Superior lying at an altitude of six hundred and forty-one feet above the Atlantic. From thence, through the valley of the St. Louis, and across the Savanna summit, to the Mississippi, at the confluence of the Sandy Lake River, estimates noted on the route, indicate an aggregate rise of four hundred and ninety feet. The ascent of the river, from this point to Cass Lake, is estimated to be one hundred and sixty-two feet; giving this lake an aggregate elevation of thirteen hundred and ninety-three feet above the Atlantic. Barometrical admeasurements made in 1836, by Mr. Nicollet, in the service of the United States Topographical Bureau, place the elevation of this lake at fourteen hundred and two feet above the Gulf of Mexico, [79] being just twelve feet above these early estimates. The same authority estimates its length from the Balize, at twenty-seven hundred and fifty miles. Its velocity below Cass Lake may be estimated to result from a mean descent of a fraction over five inches per mile.

The name of the Mississippi River is derived from the Algonquin language, through the medium of the French. The term appears first in the early missionary letters from the west end of Lake Superior about 1660. Sippi, agreeably to the early French annotation of the word, signifies a river. The prefixed word Missi is an adjective denoting all, and, when applied to various waters, means the collected or assembled mass of them. The compound term is then, properly speaking, an adverb. Thus, Missi-gago, means all things; Missi-gago-gidjetod, He who has made all things—the Creator. It is a superlative expression, of which great river simply would be a most lean, impracticable, and inadequate expression. It is only symbolically that it can be called the father of American rivers, unless such sense occurs in the other Indian tongues.

Finding it impracticable to proceed higher in the search of the remote sources of the river at this time, a return from this point was determined on. The vicinity had been carefully scanned for its drift specimens, and fresh-water conchology. Wishing to carry along some further memorial of the visit, members of the party cut walking-canes in the adjoining thickets, and tied them carefully together; and at five o'clock in the afternoon (21st July) we embarked on our descent. An hour's voyage over the surface of this wide lake, with its refreshing views of northern scenery, brought us to the point where the Mississippi issues from it. Never did men ply their paddles with greater animation; and having the descent now in their favor, they proceeded eighteen miles before they sought for a spot to encamp. Twilight still served, with almost the clearness of daylight, while we spread our tents on a handsome eminence on the right-hand shore. Daylight had not yet dawned the next morning, when we resumed the descent. It was eight o'clock A. M. when we reached the border of Lake Winnipek. This name, by the way, is derived from a term heretofore given, which, having the Chippewa inflection of nouns in ish, graphically describes that peculiarity of its waters created by the disturbance of a clay bottom. The winds were high and adverse, which caused the canoemen to toil two hours in crossing. After reaching the river again, we passed its sedgy borders, to, and through Rush Lake, or the Little Winnipek; then by the inlet of Leech Lake River, and through the contortions of its channel, to within a few miles of the spot of our encampment at Deer River, on the 20th.

The great savannas, through which the Mississippi winds itself above the Pakagama, are called collectively, the Gatchi Betobeeg, Great Morasses, or bog meadows.

While descending the river, we encountered nine canoes filled with Chippewa Indians and their families. They were freighted with heavy rolls of birch-bark, such as their canoes are made from; together with bundles of rushes designed for mats. The annoyance suffered from mosquitos on this great plateau, was almost past endurance. We embarked again at a quarter past four, and reached the Falls of Pakagama at five o'clock. Just forty minutes were spent in making the portage. The rock at this spot is quartzite. The day was cloudy, with some rain. As night approached an animal, judged to be the wolverine, was seen swimming across the stream. The efforts of the men to overtake it were unavailing; it nimbly eluded pursuit, and dashed away into the thickets. In some queries sent to me by the New York Lyceum, this animal is alluded to as a species of the glutton. The Indians said there was no animal in their country deserving this name; the only animal they knew deserving of it, was the horse; which was eating all the time. We encamped on an abrupt sandy bank, where, however, sleep was impossible. Between the humidity of the atmosphere and the denseness of the foliage around us, the insect world seemed to have been wakened into unusual activity. Besides, we encamped so late, and were so jaded by a long day's travel, that the mosquito-nets were neglected. To get up and stand before a camp-fire at midnight and switch off the mosquitos, requires as much philosophy as to write a book; and at any rate, ours completely failed. We were again in our canoes (24th), at an early hour. Daylight apprised us of the clearing up of the atmosphere, and brought us one of the most delightful days. Animated by these circumstances, we descended the stream with rapidity. Soon after midday, we entered and ascended the short channel of the Sandy Lake River, and, by two o'clock in the afternoon, we rejoined our camp at the Fur Company's Fort, having been three days in descending a distance which had consumed four and a half in the ascent.

We were received with joy and acclamation by the Sandy Lake party, and felicitated ourselves on the accomplishment of what had all along appeared as the most arduous part of our route. Nor had we indeed, overrated its difficulties; the incessant motion of travelling depriving us of mature opportunities of observation, and also rest at night, the stings of the mosquitos whenever we attempted to land, and the cravings of an often unsatisfied appetite, had made this visit one of peculiar privation and fatigue. Without such an effort, however, it is doubtful whether the principal objects of the expedition could have been accomplished. Nothing untoward had happened at the camp, no difficulty had occurred with the Indians, and all the party were in good health. Having left my thermometer with Mr. Doty, during my absence, the observations made by him are denoted in the appendix.

The following day was fixed on for our departure for the Falls of St. Anthony. The distance to these falls is generally put by the traders at from five to six hundred miles. These estimates denote, however, rather the difficulties and time employed by days' journeys in the trade than any other measurements. [80] Pike states the latitude some thirteen minutes too far north. It is found to be 46° 47´ 10´´. It appears from Lieut. Pike (Expt. p. 60), that the stockade at this place was erected in 1794. Its elevation above the Gulf of Mexico is 1,253 feet. The soil of the environs yields excellent potatoes, and such culinary vegetables as have been tried. The mean temperature of July is denoted to be 73°. The post is one of importance in the fur trade. It yields the deer, moose, bear, beaver, otter, martin, muskrat, and some other species, whose skins or pelts are valuable.

It was twelve o'clock on the morning of the 25th, before we were ready to embark. Our flotilla now consisted of three canoes, of the kind called Canoe-allege in the trade, and a barge occupied by the military. To this array, the chief Babesakundiba, or the Curly Head, added a canoe filled with Chippewa delegates, who accompanied him on a mission of peace to the Sioux. This chief is the same individual who met Lieut. Pike in this quarter, in 1806, and he appears to be a man of much energy and decision of character. His reputation also gives him the character of great skill, policy, and bravery in conducting the war against the Sioux. Indian wars are not conducted as with us, by opposing armies. It is altogether a guerilla affair. War parties are raised, marched, fight, and disperse in a few days. The war is carried on altogether by stealth and stratagem. Each one furnishes himself with food and weapons. In such a warfare, there is great scope for individual exploits and daring. In these wars the Curly Head had greatly distinguished himself, and he was, therefore, an ambassador of no mean power. In every view, the mission assumed an interesting character; and we kept an eye on the chief's movements, on our journey down the river, chiefly that we might notice the caution which is observed by the Indians in entering an enemy's country.

After entering the Mississippi, below Sandy Lake, the stream presents very much the character it has above. It was below this point that we first observed the juglans nigra in the forest. Its banks are diluvial or alluvial formations, elevated from six to ten feet. The elm, maple, and pine are common. There are some small grassy islands, with tufts of willows, and driftwood lodged. No rock strata appear. The river winds its way through vast diluvial beds, exhibiting at its rapids granitical, quartz, and trappose boulders. It appears to glide wholly over the primitive or crystalline rocks, which rise in some places through the soil, or show themselves at rapids. The expedition descended the stream twenty-eight miles, and encamped on a sandy elevation on the west shore, near Alder River, which seemed to promise an exemption from the annoyance of insects; but in this we were mistaken. In the hurry of a late encampment, it had been omitted to pitch the tents. The first ill effect of this was felt on being awakened at night by rain. A humid atmosphere is ever the signal for awakening hordes of insects, and the mosquitos became so troublesome that it was impossible to sleep at all after the shower. We got up and whiled away the time as best we could around the camp-fire.

We embarked a few minutes before 5 A. M., the morning being lowering and overcast, which eventuated in rain within an hour. The atmosphere resumed its serenity, and the sun shone out at noon. The river, as on the preceding day, has its course between alluvial and diluvial banks, sweeping its way over the smooth orbicular beds of the granitical age. The influx of rivers, the occurrence of islands, which bear witness of their entire submersion during the freshets, and the succession of bends, points, and rapids—these changes, with notices of the wild fowl, forest birds, and sometimes a quadruped, or a mass of boulders, absorbed my notices, which it seems unimportant, at this time, to refer to. No fixed stratification of rocks was encountered this day.

We encamped at about eight o'clock, on the east bank, on an open eminence, just below the rapids which mark the confluence of Pine River, having been in our canoes, with very brief and infrequent landings, fifteen hours. At the points of landing, I observed the rosa parviflora, and ipomea nil. As night approached, we heard the monotonous notes of the caprimulgus virginianus. We had also observed during the day, the bald eagle, king-fisher, turdus polyglottis, teal, plover, robin, and pigeon. The nimble sciuris vulgaris was also observed on shore. Boulders of sienite, hornblende rock, silicious slate, sandstone, and quartz, served as so many monuments to testify that heavy oceanic currents had heretofore disrupted the northern stratification, and poured down over these long and gradual geological slopes.

High and open as our position was on this eminence, our old friends the mosquitos did not forget us. Even the Indians could not endure their continued attacks. A fine fellow of our original auxiliaries, called Iaba Waddik, or the Buck, took this occasion to give us a specimen of his English, exclaiming, as he came to the camp-fire, "Tia! [81] no sneep!" putting the usual interchangeable n of the tribe for the l in the noun.