CHAPTER V.

Journal continued - Departure from Honolulu - Slow progress Fresh breezeCoast of Oregon - Old pilot - Captain delivers up the vessel - Crossing the fearful bar - Deep anxiety Cast anchor in Baker's Bay - Rev. Daniel Lee Chenook Indians- - Clatsops- - Ascend the river - Fort George Run agroundDifficulty of ascending -Arrival at Vancouver Meeting called - Missionaries receive their appointments - Sent off to their stations First encampment in Oregon - Ascending the Wallamette in canoes-Tum Water - Portage Cham poegHorseback ride-Arrival at the Mission Station.

ACCORDING to arrangements, on Tuesday morning, the 28th of April, at nine o'clock, we were all assembled at the United States Consulate, with many of our newly made friends of Oahu, who had endeared themselves to us by their unwearied kindness and hospitality, awaiting the preparation of boats to convey us to the ship. Soon all was in readiness, and taking an affectionate leave of our attendants, we were quickly on board the Lausanne. The winds were favorable, the sails were unfurled to the breeze, and we moved slowly out of the harbor through a winding channel, which the God of nature has formed through the mighty reef of coral nearly encircling the island.

For several days after leaving Oahu, we were obliged to run close upon the wind, and, consequently, made but slow progress. Our course was north-east from the islands to the mouth of the Columbia river, and consequently the north-east trade was a head wind. So soon, however, as we reached the thirtieth degree of north latitude, a fresh breeze from the west wafted us on at the rate of one hundred and fifty to two hundred miles per day.

In addition to the usual subjects of interest at sea, consisting of whales, sharks, porpoises, dolphins, alba

troses, &c., the company were entertained, for a succession of evenings, by a course of lectures, delivered by the Rev. Jason Lee, on the subject of the Oregon mission, embracing its first establishment, and the proper course to be pursued to advance its future prosperity. While thus employed, the winds of heaven were propitious, and we were rapidly approaching the coast of Oregon. At ten o'clock on the morning of the 21st of May, the western coast of North America, which is washed by the great Pacific ocean, that land towards which we had been directing our course for upwards of seven months, presented itself before us. Cape Disappointment appeared on our leeward quarter, and Point Adams on our bow. Considering the direction of the wind, the vessel could not have been placed more favorably for entering the mouth of the Columbia river.

Wind and tide both favoring us, preparations were immediately made for crossing the dreaded bar of the Columbia. Captain Spaulding found an old sailor at Oahu, who had spent some time at the mouth of the Columbia, a number of years before, and who said he was well acquainted with the channel across the bar. This man the captain had taken the precaution to bring with him, to act as pilot on entering the river; and, accordingly, on approaching land, the captain surrendered the vessel into the hands of the old pilot. The latter went aloft, and issued his orders from the fore top mast head. All was anxiety on ship board, as it was cried by the man with the sounding line, "five fathoms and a half," for we then knew that we were passing over the fearful bar, and that very soon we should experience he fate of a number of vessels, which, years before, had pursued the same track but to rush to inevitable destruction, or, be quietly moored in the placid waters of the bay, behind the projecting cape. Soon the water deepened to seven and nine fathoms, and the captain observed, "We have reason to congratulate ourselves on having crossed the bar of the Columbia in safety, and are now steering our course for Baker's Bay." And surely all felt heartily to acquiesce in the sentiment, as we slowly

passed around the point of Cape Disappointment, and dropped our anchor on American ground.

The English barque Vancouver, lay at anchor in the bay, waiting for a fair wind to put out to sea. So soon as we anchored, Captain Duncan, from the barque, came on board, and informed us that we had made at least one "hair breadth escape," as we came within a cable's length of running on to a sand bank, where the William and Ann were wrecked a few years before. He also informed us that he had just come down the river from Fort Vancouver; that Rev. Daniel Lee, and Mr. W. H. Wilson, who were members of the Oregon mission, were at the fort when he left, and that the people generally were anxiously awaiting our arrival. A few hours after we came to anchor, an Indian canoe appeared, coming down the river, with a number of persons in it, and seemed to be directing its course towards us. While several miles off we could see, through the telescope, that there was one white man, with about a dozen Indians, in the canoe, and when they approached so near as to determine who we were, they set up a loud shout for joy at our arrival. Soon they came along side, and to our great satisfaction, we were saluted by the Rev. Daniel Lee, who had left his station at the Dalls, and come down the river to visit the Chenooks, and preach to them. Though thirty miles above the mouth of the river, yet he discovered our sail, as we passed over the bar, and, supposing us to be the reinforcement expected, he resolved to hasten down and ascertain the fact.

Rev. Daniel Lee is a nephew of the Rev. Jason Lee. They had performed a perilous journey together across the Rocky mountains; had endured together the trials of missionary life in Oregon; and as they had been separated for more than two years, one remaining in Oregon, and the other recrossing the Rocky mountains, and then doubling Cape Horn, the circumstances of their meeting were of no ordinary interest. The sensations realized cannot well be described. The uncle and nephew embraced each other, and wept. Their tears were tears of joy, mingled with grief-joy, that after

so long a separation, and the endurance of so many hardships, they enjoyed the privilege of seeing each other's face-joy, that a kind and merciful Providence had preserved us during our long and tedious voyage, and had brought us in safety to this distant shore-joy, that the Lord had poured out His spirit in Oregon, and that many of the Indians had been converted but grief, that since their separation in Oregon, some of the pioneers of the cross in this land of darkness, had been taken from the scene of their labors and usefulness; a grief mitigated by the consideration, that they died as the christian dies, happy and triumphant.

Towards evening a number of Indians of the Chenook tribe came on board, among whom were some of the nobility, one of the principal chiefs, whose name was Chenamus, and his wife, whom they called the queen, being of the number. Most of them were very small in size, and very poorly clad, some of them not having sufficient clothing to cover their nakedness. The chief had nothing on but a blanket, which he wrapped around him, but the queen had on a calico dress, a neckerchief, and a red woolen shawl. Soon they were reinforced by the arrival of a band of Indians from the south side of the river, called the Clatsops, who were very savage in their appearance, some of them being painted in the most hideous manner. They collected together on the fore part of the deck, and commenced singing and dancing in the most fantastic style. Four persons engaged in the dance, and as one got weary and retired, another would step in and carry it on. They appeared to enjoy it exceedingly, and doubtless supposed that they were affording us the highest gratification in celebrating our arrival among them. Many of them continued on board during the night, and though it was very cold, some slept in their open canoes which lay along side the vessel, with nothing around them. Their appearance, as they lay shivering in the cold, was truly deplorable. These, we learned, were slaves, and were not allowed by their masters to come on the deck. Surely, thought we, if any human beings in the world need the sympa-

thies of their fellow men, we have found them on entering the territory of Oregon.

The day after we crossed the bar, we were obliged to continue at anchor in Baker's Bay, on account of a severe storm from the south-east, which prevented our sailing up the river; but on the morning of the 23d, the wind became fair, and we prepared to ascend the majestic Columbia. A gentleman by the name of Birney, residing at Fort George, and belonging to the Hudson's Bay Company, came on board, and volunteered his services as pilot from Baker's Bay, to the place of his residence, the distance of thirteen miles. Weighing anchor, we were conducted along a winding channel quite across the mouth of the river, and passed within a short distance of Point Adams, where the principal village of the Clatsops is situated. Crossing the mouth of a bay lying back of Point Adams, called Young's Bay, we came to anchor for the night, within a stone's cast of Fort George, otherwise known as the "far famed Astoria, the New York of the Pacific ocean.'

Fort George consists of three small block-houses, one of which is occupied by Mr. Birney and family, and the others for purposes of trading. Here we went ashore, and after examining the site of old Astoria, built a fire by the side of a cold spring, and cooked and enjoyed our supper again on "terra firma," where our table would stand still. Weighed anchor on the morning of the 25th, and before a fine breeze, proceeded about one mile and a half, and run the ship aground. All hands spent most of the day in endeavoring to work off the vessel, but could not succeed. The next morning we were favored with a high tide, and succeeded in clearing the bar, but had not run but a short distance before we struck another bar with considerable violence, and, at first, feared that if we ever got clear of it, it would be with great difficulty; but the still swelling tide of the next morning, again floated us, and sailing a short distance, again we ran aground, and were detained another day. We concluded that, either the navigation of the Columbia for vessels as large as ours, was exceedingly