Kitabı oku: «Explorers and Travellers», sayfa 11
When Wilkes landed in New York he found himself again famous, the central figure toward which, even in that time of war, the attention of all was turned. He was lauded by almost every citizen, praised by nearly every journal, and was the recipient of most flattering attentions. Complimentary banquets were given to him in New York, Boston, and elsewhere.
The Secretary of the Navy, in a letter dated November 30, 1861, wrote: “Especially do I congratulate you on the great public service you have rendered in the capture of the rebel emissaries… Your conduct in seizing these public enemies was marked by intelligence, ability, decision, and firmness, and has the emphatic approval of this Department.” With reference to the omission of Wilkes to capture the Trent, the Secretary says: “The forbearance exercised in this instance must not be permitted to constitute a precedent hereafter for infractions of neutral obligations.”
Congress was not then in session, but it met a few weeks later, when almost the first act of the House of Representatives was to pass a joint resolution which declared that “the thanks of Congress are due, and are hereby tendered, to Captain Wilkes, of the United States Navy, for his brave, adroit, and patriotic conduct in the arrest and detention of the traitors, James M. Mason and John Slidell.”
The hostile attitude of Great Britain, which country to many Americans appeared quite ready on slight pretence to acknowledge the Southern Confederacy, gave great anxiety to the administration. The astute Lincoln and the diplomatic Seward, supported by the patriotic Sumner in the Senate, and other conservative men in the House of Representatives, after due correspondence acceded to the demands of Great Britain that the prisoners should be released. Seward, however, justified Wilkes’s action in the main as legal, but said that he erred in releasing the Trent; and by constituting himself as a court, and in not bringing the steamer before an admiralty court as guilty of carrying articles contraband of war, had acted irregularly. The United States declined to apologize, as no offence to Great Britain was intended, and forbore from claiming against England the right of search which that nation had so persistently exercised.
The Naval Committee of the Senate reported without amendment the resolution of thanks to Wilkes, but deemed it best to postpone it indefinitely. The ordinary citizen did not share the conservative, and it may be said the very wise, course of the administration, and the sentiment throughout the country was very generally one of national pride that under doubtful circumstances an American sailor had dared rather too much than too little for the dignity and safety of his country. Wilkes, himself, when told that possibly this act would cause him to lose his commission, said that he deemed his seizure of the commissioners simply a patriotic duty, and if needs be was willing to be sacrificed for his country. He continued to perform efficient service during the war, despite his advancing years. In 1862, while in command of the Potomac flotilla, he shelled and destroyed City Point, and in command of a special squadron to maintain the blockade, captured and destroyed many blockade-runners.
With the closing of the war, and his retirement from active service, Wilkes returned to the scientific pursuits which had always engrossed his mind, and full of years and honor, died at Washington, February 8, 1877.
Of his early scientific labors it may be said that they had contributed in no small degree to the establishment of a national institution of international repute, the Naval Observatory.
For his important additions to the knowledge of the world, and especially for his ever-zealous war services, the memory and life of Charles Wilkes will ever abide fresh and honored in the hearts of his countrymen.
VIII
JOHN CHARLES FRÉMONT,
The Pathfinder
The discovery and exploration of the trans-Mississippi region had many phases, the outcome of different conditions and varying individual efforts to determine the extent, possibilities, and resources of the undeveloped half of the American continent. The seamanship of Gray, the enthusiasm of Lewis, the courage of Clarke, the assiduity of Pike, the enterprise of Ashley, Wyeth, Sublette, Bonneville, and other trappers and traders, had done much to make known to the pioneer and settler the advantages and promise of the great West, and had roughly delineated the routes of travel best suited for the emigrant in his westward march.
In time many urged that the government of the United States, so long shamefully negligent of its magnificent acquisitions by purchase, discovery, and settlement, should enter in and possess its own. This, however, necessitated, first, a systematic examination of the physical features of the West to such an extent as to render possible its general and authoritative description; second, the granting of lands or homesteads to such of its daring citizens as might be willing to venture their lives as settlers in these remote regions.
Among public men who urged most strongly such action was one of the most distinguished of our Western statesmen, Thomas H. Benton, first Senator from the new and growing State of Missouri. He persistently advocated the settlement of the lower Columbia by Americans, the enforcement of the title of the United States to the Pacific Coast region from California northward to the forty-ninth parallel, and in 1825 he presented in the Senate a bill authorizing the use of the army and navy to protect American interests in Oregon.
In season and out of season Benton opposed the joint occupation of Oregon by England and America, unfailingly supporting every measure which promised to fill its fertile valleys with American settlers. So dominant was this idea in Benton’s career that artistic skill has fittingly shaped his statue in St. Louis with its bronze hand pointing west, with his prophetic words carved on the pedestal, “There is the east. There is India.”
In his efforts to put his ideas into practical shape, Benton threw the great weight of his influence as a Senator toward the employment in such explorations of a member of his family by marriage, John Charles Frémont, whose ability and inclinations specially suited him for the scientific examination and exploration of the trans-Mississippi region.
Born January 21, 1813, at Savannah, Ga., Frémont entered Charleston College, where his disregard of discipline prevented his graduating, although the faculty later honored him with the degrees of Bachelor and Master of Arts. Well grounded in the classics and familiar with the ordinary astronomical methods of determining latitude and longitude, Frémont visited South America on the United States ship Natchez, as a teacher. Later, appointed a professor of mathematics in the navy, he declined the position to accept more congenial service as assistant engineer of the United States Topographic Corps, where he had experience in preliminary surveys of railroads and also in a military reconnoissance among the Cherokees in Georgia. Commissioned in the United States Army, in 1838, as second lieutenant in the Topographic Corps, his initial service was fortunately as principal assistant to I. N. Nicolet, in the survey of the country between the Mississippi and the Missouri. Nicolet, an able and distinguished engineer, was the first explorer in America who made general use of the barometer for determining elevations of the great interior country, and his map of this region was one of the greatest contributions ever made to American geography.
In 1841 Frémont married Jessie Benton, a daughter of Senator Benton, through whose influence Frémont was assigned to the command of the expedition ordered to explore the country between the Missouri River and the Rocky Mountains on the line of the Kansas and Platte Rivers.
In May, 1842, while Frémont was on the frontier making preparations for the journey, there came, as Mrs. Frémont relates, an order recalling him to Washington. Mrs. Frémont sent a special messenger to her husband, advising him to move immediately for good and sufficient reasons, to be given later. Meanwhile, holding the letter, she wrote the colonel who had given the order for the recall that she had neither forwarded the order nor informed Frémont of it, as she knew that obedience thereto would ruin the expedition. On such a small thread of circumstances hung the fate of his first separate command, which brought Frémont into such great prominence in connection with the exploration and development of the Pacific Coast region.
The journey of Frémont lay up the North Fork of the Platte, through South Pass, into Wind River Valley, his march being marked by the usual experiences of hardship and suffering inseparable from the time and region. The most notable event of the journey was the ascent of the main and highest peak of the Wind River range, now known as Frémont’s Peak. Their first attempts were unsuccessful, the party suffering from great cold, excessive fatigue, and mountain fever resulting from the rarity of the air. Frémont, however, persevered and succeeded. He describes the final ascent as follows:
“We reached a point where the buttress was overhanging, and there was no other way of surmounting the difficulty than by passing around one side of it, which was the face of a vertical precipice of several hundred feet. Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the blocks I succeeded in getting over it, and when I reached the top found my companions in a small valley below. Descending to them, we continued climbing and in a short time reached the crest. I sprang upon the summit and another step would have precipitated me into an immense snow-field five hundred feet below. At the edge of this field was a sheer icy precipice, and then, with a gradual fall, the field sloped off for about a mile until it struck the foot of another lower ridge. I stood on a narrow crest about three feet in width. As soon as I had gratified the first feelings of curiosity I descended, and each man ascended in turn, for I would only allow one at a time to mount the unstable and precarious slab, which it seemed a breath would hurl into the abyss below. We mounted the barometer in the snow at the summit, and fixing a ramrod in the crevice, unfurled the national flag to wave in the breeze where never flag waved before.” The elevation of this summit, as determined by Frémont, was 13,570 feet.
His success on this expedition caused his most favorable reception by the War Department on his return to the States.
Frémont’s second expedition contemplated the connection of his first explorations with those made by Captain Wilkes on the Pacific Coast, so as to give a connected survey across the interior of North America. The party, which left Kansas City May 29, 1843, consisted of forty men, equipped with twelve carts for transportation and a light wagon for scientific instruments. The route followed was up the valley of the Kansas River, thence by the South Fork of the Platte to the vicinity of the present city of Denver. After considerable hesitation a northerly route was taken, skirting the westerly limits of the great Laramie plain, which brought Frémont to the emigrant trail in the vicinity of the South Pass. The volume of travel toward the Pacific Coast even at that early date may be estimated from his description of the Oregon trail as “a broad smooth highway where the numerous heavy wagons of the emigrants have entirely beaten and crushed the mountain sage.”
Crossing Green River and following up Ham’s Fork, Frémont reached the valley of Bear River, the principal tributary of Great Salt Lake, which was filled with emigrants travelling to the lower Columbia River. Frémont expressed his surprise at the confidence and daring of the emigrants as he met in one place “a family of two men and women and several children travelling alone through such a country so remote from civilization.” Turning south from this point and quitting the travelled road Frémont visited the Great Salt Lake, of which he says: “Hitherto this lake had been seen only by trappers, who were wandering through the country in search of new beaver streams, caring very little for geography; its lands had never been visited, and none were to be found who had entirely made the circuit of its shores, and no instrumental observations or geographical survey of any description had ever been made anywhere in the neighboring region. It was generally supposed that the lake had no visible outlet, but among the trappers, including those in my own camp, were many who believed that somewhere on its surface was a terrible whirlpool, through which its waters found their way to the ocean by some subterranean communication.”
The lake was eventually reached from the lower part of Bear River in an india-rubber canoe, by means of which Frémont also landed on a mountainous island near the centre of the lake, where from an elevation of eight hundred feet he was able to determine with considerable accuracy the contours and extent of this remarkable body of water. Instead of a tangled wilderness of shrubbery teeming with an abundance of game, as the party expected, the island proved to be broken, rocky land, some twelve miles in circumference, on which there was neither water nor trees; a few saline shrubs and other hardy plants formed the only vegetation. The lake is described as being enclosed in a basin of rocky mountains, which sometimes leave grassy fields and extensive bottoms between them and the shore, while in other places they come directly down to the water in bold and precipitous bluffs. He speaks of the water of the lake being at a low stage and the probabilities that the marshes and low ground are overflowed in the season of high water. Frémont says that “we felt pleasure in knowing that we were the first who in the traditional annals of the country had visited the island and broke with joyful sounds the long solitude.” But in view of the dissipation of his dream of fertility he named it Disappointment Island.
Turning northward Frémont reached, on September 18, 1843, Fort Hall, Idaho, then a post under British control, whose original importance as an Indian trading-post had been greatly enhanced by its location on the emigrant route to Oregon, at a distance of over one thousand three hundred miles from the then frontier settlement of Westport, Mo. Following closely the emigrant trail Frémont, on October 8th, passed Fort Boisé, then occupied by the Hudson Bay Company, and on the 25th of the month arrived at another trading establishment of this company, at the junction of the Walla Walla and Columbia Rivers. This was considered by emigrants as the practical termination of their overland journey since navigation down the river was rapid and convenient.
Frémont found many American emigrants at Fort Vancouver on his visit to that post and also learned that others already occupied the adjacent lowlands of the Willamette Valley. Moreover, these pioneers were not confining their efforts to Oregon, for while small parties were pushing southward through that valley to settlements in Northern California, still others, making detours near Fort Hall, reached, by a more direct route through passes in the Sierra Nevada, the banks of the Sacramento.
On November 10, 1843, Frémont left Vancouver to return to the United States, having in view an entirely new route whereby he might be able to complete the exploration of the great interior basin between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada. His party then consisted of twenty-five. Leaving the Columbia at a point above The Dalles, Frémont followed Des Chutes River to its source, and passing over to Lake Klamath, contemplated a journey to and a winter camp on either Mary’s Lake or the mythical Buenaventura River. His trail brought him to Lake Klamath, and later to Goose Lake, the source of the Sacramento. Winter had now commenced; the weather in the mountains proved to be extremely cold, snow-storms became frequent, and his search for Mary’s Lake and Buenaventura River proved fruitless and dangerous.
These mythical water-courses, which had been eliminated from the domain of geography by Bonneville’s map of 1837, proved indeed to be veritable waters of the desert, mere mirages that nearly led Frémont to an untimely fate. Frémont’s frequent allusions in his field journal to these imaginary streams show his then belief in their existence, which appears extraordinary in view of existing publications. In Bonneville’s maps are charted with general accuracy the great interior basins of the Great Salt, Mud, and Sevier Lakes, the Humboldt and Sevier Rivers. The general extent and direction of the Willamette, Sacramento, and San Joaquin Rivers are indicated, and the non-existence of the Buenaventura and other hypothetical streams was conclusively determined. The existence of these maps was generally known, and their absence from Frémont’s topographic outfit is remarkable; a most unfortunate omission, as Benton in his “Thirty Years’ View” describes Frémont’s charts and geographic information as “disastrously erroneous.”
Struggling along in the snow through a forest of unknown extent, Frémont halted, on December 16th, on the verge of a rocky precipice, from which the party looked down more than one thousand feet upon a broad lake, the most westerly waters of the great interior basin, which, from its pleasing contrast to the wintry weather of the Sierra Nevada, they called Summer Lake. Attempting to travel in an easterly direction Frémont found himself beaten back by an impassable country, there being rocky, sterile mountains on either side which obliged him to keep to the south through a wild, barren, and uninhabited region. Frémont, describing the country, says: “On both sides the mountains showed often stupendous and curious-looking rocks, which at several places so narrowed the valley that scarcely a pass was left for the camp. It was a singular place to travel through – shut up in the earth, a sort of chasm, the little strip of grass under our feet, the rough walls of bare rock on either hand, and the narrow strip of sky above.”
The year 1844 opened with the party in a forlorn and dispirited condition, as they were practically lost in the tangle of the valleys and mountains. The grass had become so scanty and unwholesome that the overtaxed animals fell ill; some died and others were stolen by Indians, so that the party lost fifteen head of stock by the time they reached Pyramid Lake, where they camped from the 10th to the 16th of January. Here they found grass abundant, fire-wood plentiful, and from an Indian village they obtained salmon trout, a feast to the famished men. The Indians indicated the general direction of the route out of the desolate country, but no one would consent to accompany the party as guide. The region traversed continued so rough and lamed the animals so badly that on the 18th Frémont determined to abandon the easterly course, thinking it advisable to cross the Sierra Nevada to the valley of the Sacramento by the first practicable pass. Now and then a few Indians were met, and finally a guide was obtained, who led them to the southward, over a low range of mountains through a snow-covered pass into what proved to be Carson Valley. The snow deepened and the country became so broken as to make progress difficult, long, tedious detours necessary, and soon travel was only possible along high and exposed ridges, which were comparatively snow free. Finally it became necessary to abandon their mountain howitzer at an impracticable cañon that led into a valley which Frémont at first erroneously supposed to be to the westward of the Sierra Nevada. Continuing on without a guide they met other Indians, who stated it was impossible to cross the mountains on account of the deep snow, but after much persuasion, and by means of large presents, an Indian guide was finally induced to undertake the journey. Frémont, fully conscious of the desperate conditions, which entailed the possible death of all, endeavored to encourage his men by reminding them of the contrast between the fast falling snow of the surrounding Sierra Nevada and the flower-clad meadows in the adjacent valley of the Sacramento, and informed them that his astronomical observations showed that they were only sixty miles distant from Sutter’s great establishment.
Their provisions were now practically exhausted; neither tallow, grease, nor salt remained, and even their hunting dogs were killed for food. Making the best of the situation their clothing and outfit were put in the best of order, and on February 2d, crossing the frozen river on the ice, the party commenced the ascent of the mountain, the men, Frémont relates, being unusually silent over the hazardous and doubtful enterprise. Ten men, mounted on the strongest horses, broke the road, each man in succession opening the path, either on foot or on horseback, until he and his horse became exhausted, when he dropped to the rear. The very deep snow made it impossible to follow the main valley, and they necessarily worked along steep and difficult mountain-sides. On the third day the snow had become so deep that their best horses gave out entirely, refusing to make further effort; the day ended with the party at a stand-still and the camp equipage strewed along the route. Too exhausted to make huts, they camped that night without shelter and suffered bitterly from the unusual cold, as the temperature fell to twenty-two degrees below freezing. Two Indians who had joined the party expatiated on the impossibility of crossing at this point, and the guide, influenced by them, deserted the party the next morning.
Having obtained snow-shoes from the Indians, on February 6th, Frémont, accompanied by Carson and Fitzpatrick, made a reconnoissance and reached a high peak, from which Carson saw a little mountain to the westward which he recognized as one seen by him fifteen years before, so that confidence was somewhat restored. On examining the general depth of the snow it was found to be five feet, but in places it proved to be twenty. As this snow was plainly impracticable for the pack-train, sledges were made for transporting the baggage, which was dragged forward by the men with the expectation that the horses without load could break a path for themselves. Unfortunately the weather turned bitterly cold, and the temperature falling thirty-five degrees below the freezing-point, a number of the men were frost-bitten.
Frémont, and indeed the whole party, now realized that the crossing of the mountains into the valley of the Sacramento was a struggle for life, but this in no wise disorganized the party. This desperate march lasted during the whole of February. Finally Frémont with the advance party reached Sutter’s ranch on March 6th in a state of complete exhaustion; help was immediately sent to the main party, which arrived a few days later. Frémont’s route across the mountains was practically through the pass now crossed by the Central Pacific Railway, the descent into the Sacramento being through the valley of the American River. In crossing the Sierras not less than thirty-four out of the sixty-seven horses died of exhaustion or were killed for food, the meat of these animals being the only resource against starvation.
One of the party, De Rossier, became insane on March 1st, and Frémont says: “Hunger and fatigue joined to weakness of body and fear of perishing in the mountains had crazed him. The times were severe when stout men lost their minds from extremity of suffering, when horses died, when mules and horses ready to die of starvation were killed for food, yet there was no murmuring or hesitation.”
Sutter’s Fort, on the Sacramento, was then the most important American establishment in California; the fort itself was an adobe structure defended by twelve pieces of artillery. Sutter had a large force in his employ engaged in farming his extensive wheat-fields, in milling operations, in blacksmith- and other work-shops.
One might have thought that Frémont would have delayed long in the delightful climate and conditions that obtained at Sutter’s, but such was not the nature of the man. The entire party were reunited at Sutter’s Fort on March 8th, and under Frémont’s well-directed efforts, in the short space of fourteen days the starving band was reorganized, remounted, and equipped fully for instant march. The return journey was to be through the pass at the head of the San Joaquin River, discovered by Walker, whose name was affixed to it by Frémont. Crossing the Sierra Nevada the party struck the Spanish trail, which was then followed by all wagon-trains or mounted parties travelling to and fro between Los Angeles and Santa Fé. The region over which they passed was desolate in the extreme, the road rough and rocky, grass scanty and poor, while water was found only in holes and at long distances, In pointing to it, Frémont’s Spanish guide well states: “There are the great plains; there is found neither water nor grass – nothing; every animal which goes upon them dies.”
The party had to undergo not only terrible discomforts arising from the physical conditions of the country, but was also harassed by hostile Indians, who stole some of their stock. The expedition fortunately escaped with the loss of only one man, although parties in advance and in their rear were plundered and slaughtered. Speaking of their travelling alone in twenty-seven days a distance of five hundred and fifty miles through this inhospitable region, Frémont comments, that although their lonely journey gave them the advantage of more grass, yet they “had the disadvantage of finding also the marauding savages who had gathered down upon the trail, waiting the approach of their prey. This greatly increased our labors, besides costing us the life of an excellent man. We had to move all day in a state of watch and prepare for combat, scouts and flankers out, a front and rear division of our men, and baggage animals in the centre. At night camp duty was severe; those who had toiled all day had to guard by turns the camp and horses all night. Frequently one-third of the whole party were on guard at once, and nothing but this vigilance saved us from attack. We were constantly dogged by bands and even whole tribes of the marauders.”
Reaching, in Southern Utah, the head-waters of the Virgin River, where Santa Fé trains usually halt to recruit the strength of their animals in its grassy meadows, Frémont was joined by the famous trapper, Joseph Walker, who consented to serve as guide in the departure to the northeastward, as they now quitted the Spanish trail. Frémont then skirted the eastern edge of the great interior basin and visiting Sevier and Utah Lakes, thus completed practically the circuit of the basin. He then turned eastward through the valleys of the Du Chesne and Green Rivers, tributaries to the Colorado, and pushing through the very heart of the Rocky Mountains, by the way of the pass near Leadville, at an elevation of eleven thousand two hundred feet, he reached the Arkansas Valley June 29, 1844.
His journey eastward across the great Kansas plains was of an easy character, and the 31st of July, 1844, saw his expedition safe at Independence, Mo. He had been absent fourteen months, during which time he had travelled some six thousand five hundred miles, the greater part of his journey being through the most barren and inhospitable regions of North America.
The character and extent of Frémont’s astronomical and other physical observations on this long, arduous, and dangerous journey constituted the great value of his exploring work. In few instances did it fall to Frémont’s lot to first explore any section of the country, but it was his good fortune, as it was his intent, to first contribute systematic, extended, and reliable data as to climate, elevation, physical conditions, and geographical positions. The hypsometrical work begun by Frémont culminated, indeed, in the unparalleled collation of elevations by Gannett; his climatic observations have been perfected by the Signal Corps; his astronomical and geological data have been overwhelmed by the magnificent collections and field work of the United States Coast and Geodetic and Geological Surveys; but it is to be noted that Frémont’s observations, which he gave in detail, were so honest and good that they have withstood successfully the test of hostile examination. Frémont’s scientific spirit was strikingly exemplified in this terrible mid-winter journey through the mountains of Nevada, when observations for time, latitude, elevation, or temperature were daily and regularly made despite snow, extreme cold, and physical weakness from semi-starvation.
On the recommendation of General Winfield Scott, in a special report, the unprecedented honor of double brevets – of first lieutenant and captain – was conferred on Frémont for gallant and highly meritorious services in connection with these two expeditions.
Frémont’s third expedition consisted of sixty men. They left Bent’s Fort, on the Arkansas, August 16, 1845. Its object, as far as exploration was concerned, included a survey of the head-waters of the Arkansas, Rio Grande, and Rio Colorado, the basin of the Great Salt Lake and the practicable passes of the Cascade and southern Sierra Nevada.
It was during this journey that Frémont quite fully surveyed the southern shores of Salt Lake. The water was then at an unusually low – possibly at its lowest known – level, and having been informed by the Indians that it was fordable to Antelope Island, Frémont with Kit Carson rode to the island, the water nowhere reaching above the saddle-girths of their horses.
Dividing his party Frémont crossed the Utah desert between the thirty-eighth and thirty-ninth parallels, while his subordinate, Walker, explored the valley and sink of the Humboldt. Rendezvousing at Lake Walker and again separating, Frémont reached Sutter’s Fort through the American River route, while Walker and the main party crossed the Sierras into the extreme southern part of the San Joaquin Valley, opposite Tulare Lake. Of the survey and explorations made by the expedition it may be briefly said that they added very greatly to a knowledge of Upper California, and resulted in the publication in 1848 of the most accurate map of that region extant.
