CHAPTER I.
The ship Tonquin,[1] belonging to John Jacob Astor, left Boston about the year 1811, with settlers, for the purpose of forming an establishment on the Columbia River. On their passage out, they touched at the Sandwich Islands to fill up their water casks, and procure a supply of provisions. Captain Thorne encountered considerable difficulties from the disposition which his ship's company evinced to leave the vessel at these islands, and was even obliged to get the settlers to keep watch over them to prevent desertion: the boatswain, Peter Anderson, by some means, however, eluded the guard and escaped to the shore. The Tonquin arrived off the mouth of the Columbia in March, 1811. Captain Thorne not being acquainted with the harbor, dispatched a whale-boat, with an officer and six men, to sound the passage over the bar into the river. The ship was then under close reefed top-sails, and a strong gale blowing from the north-west, so that the first officer was much averse to going on this service; and it is rather singular, that previous to his leaving the Tonquin, he observed to Mr. McDougal, who was to be the governor of the establishment, that he was going to lay his bones beside those of his uncle, who had perished in crossing the bar of the Columbia river a year or two before that time. In a quarter of an hour after they left the ship, they hoisted a signal of distress, and then disappeared—thus seven men found a watery grave! The Tonquin stood out to sea for the night, and in the morning again stood in, and another boat was ordered off under the command of the second officer Mr. Moffat, who peremptorily refused to go, observing, that he could see a passage better from the mast head. Captain Thorne then ordered a man, who was to have the command of a shallop (of which they had the frame on board), to take the command of the boat, with two Sandwich Islanders (several of whom they had on board for the establishment), the ship's blacksmith, and one sailor, Mr. McDougal having refused to let any of the settlers go on that service which they looked on as little better than an act of insanity. Shortly after the boat had left the ship, she ran by it; the boat was then so close that the people asked for a rope; but the vessel herself was in so perilous a situation, that all on board had to attend to their own safety. She struck several times on the bar, and the sea made a fair breach over her; but they at length got under the north point, into Baker's bay. On the following day they saw a white man on the rocks, in the bay. Captain Thorne dispatched a boat, which returned with the blacksmith, who had been in the second boat sent to sound the channel. The account he gave of himself was, that shortly after the ship had passed them, the boat swamped; that the master of the shallop and the sailor were drowned, and that he was saved by the exertions of the Sandwich Islanders, who had dived several times to clear him of the lead line which was entangled round his legs. As the tide was ebbing strong, the boat drifted clear of the breakers; the islanders got a bucket and one of the oars; the blacksmith and one of the islanders took it in turns to scull the boat during the night. The other islander died in consequence of being benumbered with the cold, so that he could not exert himself as the others did. At day-light, they found themselves drifted to the northward of the river into a small sandy bay; they ran the boat on the beach and hauled her as high as their strength would allow them, and got their dead companion out. They then crossed the point towards the river, and entered the woods, where the islander lay down by the stump of a tree. The blacksmith left him, crossed the point, and arrived in sight of the river, where, to his inexpressible joy, he saw the ship at anchor in the bay.
Captain Thorne sent a party in search of the islander, whom they found. They also recovered the boat, and buried the other native. They then landed the settlers about seven miles from the entrance of the river, and on the south side, where they immediately commenced clearing away the woods, building a fort, block-houses, etc. to protect themselves against the Indians. The Tonquin next landed part of her cargo, of which Mr. McDougal took charge; and Mr. McKie[2] accompanied Captain Thorne to trade with the Indians to the northward. For this purpose, they sailed from the river and swept along the coast till they came to Woody Point, where they ran into a snug harbor, in latitude of 50 deg. 6 min. N. and longitude 127 deg. 43 min. W.; in this place they carried on a brisk trade with the natives, of whom Captain Thorne, however, allowed too many to come on board. Mr. McKie remonstrated, and pointed out the danger to which they subjected themselves, by placing too much confidence in savages. But the captain was above taking his advice, and permitted still more liberty in visiting the ship. On the morning of the fatal catastrophe taking place, he was awakened by his brother (whom he had appointed chief mate in the room of the one who was lost, while Mr. Moffat was left at the Columbia river to command the schooner or shallop), coming to inform him, that the natives were crowding on board in very great numbers, and without women, which was a sure sign of their hostile intentions. Upon reaching the deck Captain Thorne was alarmed, and ordered the ship to be got under-way; four persons went aloft to loose the sails, while the remainder were heaving at the windlass. The Indians had seated themselves round the decks between the guns, apparently without arms; but while the sailors were in the act of heaving at the windlass, they gave a sudden yell, and drew long knives from their hair, in which they had them concealed, rushed on the men, and butchered every person on deck. Captain Thorne defended himself for some time, but was at length overpowered, after having killed several of his assailants. The people aloft, terrified by this slaughter, slid down by the stays, and got into the forecastle, where, by means of the loop-holes, they soon cleared the decks of the savages. They were for some time at a loss how to act, and it was at length resolved that three should take the long-boat, and endeavor to reach the Columbia river. The blacksmith being wounded, preferred staying on board, and endeavoring to revenge the death of his ship-mates: the three men accordingly took provision and arms, and left the ship, and pulled directly out to sea. The blacksmith then waved to the natives to return on board, having previously laid a train of gunpowder to the magazine, and got his musket ready to fire it. The Indians seeing but one man in the vessel, came off in great numbers, and boarded without fear. He pointed out to them where to find the different articles of trade; and while they were all busily employed breaking open boxes, loosing bales, etc., he fired the train, and jumped overboard. By this explosion was destroyed nearly the whole village. He was picked up by some of the canoes, and it is said by the natives, is still among them, but is never allowed to come near the sea-shore. It may appear strange that he was not put to some violent death; but the savages estimate too highly the value of a blacksmith, who repairs their muskets, makes knives, etc.; in short, he is the greatest acquisition they can have. With respect to the three men who escaped the massacre on board, not being able to weather Woody Point, they were driven on shore, and killed by the natives. The boat remains, together with the wreck of the Tonquin, to this day.
The former part of this account of the loss of the Tonquin I had from Mr. McDougal, the governor of the fort at Columbia river, and the remainder from the natives, with whom I have had frequent intercourse, and whom I invariably found it to my interest to use well, as they are sensible of the slightest attention, and are prone to revenge the slightest insult.