Chapter 29

'WHERE is the tent of the commanding officer?' I asked of thefirst soldier I came across.

　　He pointed to one on the hillside. 'Ags for Major Dooker,'

　　was the Dutch-accented answer.

　　Bidding Samson stay where he was, I made my way as directed.

　　A middle-aged officer in undress uniform was sitting on anempty packing-case in front of his tent, whittling a piece ofits wood.

　　'Pray sir,' said I in my best Louis Quatorze manner, 'have Ithe pleasure of speaking to Major Dooker?'

　　'Tucker, sir. And who the devil are you?'

　　Let me describe what the Major saw: A man wasted bystarvation to skin and bone, blackened, almost, by months ofexposure to scorching suns; clad in the shreds of what hadonce been a shirt, torn by every kind of convict labour,stained by mud and the sweat and sores of mules; the rags ofa shooting coat to match; no head covering; hands festeringwith sores, and which for weeks had not touched water - ifthey could avoid it. Such an object, in short, as the geniusof a Phil May could alone have depicted as the most repulsiveobject he could imagine.

　　'Who the devil are you?'

　　'An English gentleman, sir, travelling for pleasure.'

　　He smiled. 'You look more like a wild beast.'

　　'I am quite tame, sir, I assure you - could even eat out ofyour hand if I had a chance.'

　　'Is your name Coke?'

　　'Yes,' was my amazed reply.

　　'Then come with me - I will show you something that maysurprise you.'

　　I followed him to a neighbouring tent. He drew aside theflap of it, and there on his blanket lay Fred Calthorpe,snoring in perfect bliss.

　　Our greetings were less restrained than our parting had been.

　　We were truly glad to meet again. He had arrived just twodays before me, although he had been at Salt Lake City. Buthe had been able there to refit, had obtained ample suppliesand fresh animals. Curiously enough, his Nelson - theFrench-Canadian - had also been drowned in crossing the SnakeRiver. His place, however, had been filled by another man,and Jacob had turned out a treasure. The good fellow greetedme warmly. And it was no slight compensation for bygonetroubles to be assured by him that our separation had led tothe final triumphal success.

　　Fred and I now shared the same tent. To show what habit willdo, it was many days before I could accustom myself to sleepunder cover of a tent even, and in preference slept, as I haddone for five months, under the stars. The officersliberally furnished us with clothing. But their excessivehospitality more nearly proved fatal to me than any peril Ihad met with. One's stomach had quite lost its discretion.

　　And forgetting thatFamished people must be slowly nursed,And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst,one never knew when to leave off eating. For a few days Iwas seriously ill.

　　An absurd incident occurred to me here which might have hadan unpleasant ending. Every evening, after dinner in themess tent, we played whist. One night, quite by accident,Fred and I happened to be partners. The Major and anotherofficer made up the four. The stakes were rather high. Wetwo had had an extraordinary run of luck. The Major's temperhad been smouldering for some time. Presently the deal fellto me; and as bad luck would have it, I dealt myself ahandful of trumps, and - all four honours. As the last ofthese was played, the now blazing Major dashed his cards onthe table, and there and then called me out. The coolerheads of two or three of the others, with whom Fred had hadtime to make friends, to say nothing of the usual roar oflaughter with which he himself heard the challenge, broughtthe matter to a peaceful issue. The following day one of theofficers brought me a graceful apology.

　　As may readily be supposed, we had no hankering for furthertravels such as we had gone through. San Francisco was ourdestination; but though as unknown to us as Charles Lamb's'Stranger,' we 'damned' the overland route 'at a venture';and settled, as there was no alternative, to go in a tradingship to the Sandwich Islands thence, by the same means, toCalifornia.

　　On October 20 we procured a canoe large enough for seven oreight persons; and embarking with our light baggage, Fred,Samson, and I, took leave of the Dalles. For some miles thegreat river, the Columbia, runs through the CascadeMountains, and is confined, as heretofore, in a channel ofbasaltic rock. Further down it widens, and is ornamented bygroups of small wooded islands. On one of these we landed torest our Indians and feed. Towards evening we again putashore, at an Indian village, where we camped for the night.

　　The scenery here is magnificent. It reminded me a little ofthe Danube below Linz, or of the finest parts of the Elbe inSaxon Switzerland. But this is to compare the full-lengthportrait with the miniature. It is the grandeur of the scaleof the best of the American scenery that so strikes theEuropean. Variety, however, has its charms; and before onehas travelled fifteen hundred miles on the same river - asone may easily do in America - one begins to sigh for theRhine, or even for a trip from London to Greenwich, with awhite-bait dinner at the end of it.

　　The day after, we descended the Cascades. They are thebeginning of an immense fall in the level, and form asuccession of rapids nearly two miles long. The excitementof this passage is rather too great for pleasure. It is likebeing run away with by a 'motor' down a steep hill. The bowof the canoe is often several feet below the stern, as ifabout to take a 'header.' The water, in glassy ridges anddark furrows, rushes headlong, and dashes itself madlyagainst the reefs which crop up everywhere. There is notime, one thinks, to choose a course, even if steerage, whichseems absurd, were possible. One is hurled along at railwayspeed. The upreared rock, that a moment ago seemed a hundredyards off, is now under the very bow of the canoe. Oneclenches one's teeth, holds one's breath, one's hour issurely come. But no - a shout from the Indians, a magicstroke of the paddle in the bow, another in the stern, andthe dreaded crag is far above out heads, far, far behind;and, for the moment, we are gliding on - undrowned.

　　At the lower end of the rapids (our Indians refusing to gofurther), we had to debark. A settler here was putting up azinc house for a store. Two others, with an officer of theMounted Rifles - the regiment we had left at the Dalles -were staying with him. They welcomed our arrival, andinsisted on our drinking half a dozen of poisonous stuff theycalled champagne. There were no chairs or table in the'house,' nor as yet any floor; and only the beginning of aroof. We sat on the ground, so that I was ablesurreptitiously to make libations with my share, to theearth.

　　According to my journal: 'In a short time the party began tobe a noisy one. Healths were drunk, toasts proposed,compliments to our respective nationalities paid in the mostflattering terms. The Anglo-Saxon race were destined toconquer the globe. The English were the greatest nationunder the sun - that is to say, they had been. America, ofcourse, would take the lead in time to come. We disputedthis. The Americans were certain of it, in fact this wasalready an accomplished fact. The big officer - a genuine"heavy" - wanted to know where the man was that would givehim the lie! Wasn't the Mounted Rifles the crack regiment ofthe United States army? And wasn't the United States armythe finest army in the universe? Who that knew anything ofhistory would compare the Peninsular Campaign to the war inMexico? Talk of Waterloo - Britishers were mighty fond ofswaggering about Waterloo! Let 'em look at Chepultapec. Asfor Wellington, he couldn't shine nohow with General Scott,nor old Zack neither!'

　　Then, WE wished for a war, just to let them see what ourcrack cavalry regiments could do. Mounted Rifles forsooth!

　　Mounted costermongers! whose trade it was to sell 'nutmegsmade of wood, and clocks that wouldn't figure.' Then somepretty forcible profanity was vented, fists were shaken, andthe zinc walls were struck, till they resounded like thethreatened thunder of artillery.

　　But Fred's merry laughter diverted the tragic end. It wasagreed that there had been too much tall talk. Britishersand Americans were not such fools as to quarrel. Leteverybody drink everybody else's health. A gentleman in thecorner (he needed the support of both walls) thought itwasn't good to 'liquor up' too much on an empty stomach; heput it to the house that we should have supper. The motionwas carried NEM. CON., and a Dutch cheese was produced withmuch ECLAT. Samson coupled the ideas of Dutch cheeses andYankee hospitality. This revived the flagging spirit ofemulation. On one side, it was thought that British mannerswere susceptible of amendment. Confusion was thenrespectively drunk to Yankee hospitality, English manners,and - this was an addition of Fred's - to Dutch cheeses.

　　After which, to change the subject, a song was called for,and a gentleman who shall be nameless, for there was a littlemischief in the choice, sang 'Rule Britannia.' Not beingencored, the singer drank to the flag that had braved thebattle and the breeze for nearly ninety years. 'Here's toUncle Sam, and his stars and stripes.' The mounted officerrose to his legs (with difficulty) and declared 'that hecould not, and would not, hear his country insulted anylonger. He begged to challenge the "crowd." He regrettedthe necessity, but his feelings had been wounded, and hecould not - no, he positively could not stand it.' A slightpush from Samson proved the fact - the speaker fell, to riseno more. The rest of the company soon followed his example,and shortly afterwards there was no sound but that of theadjacent rapids.

　　Early next morning the settler's boat came up, and took us amile down the river, where we found a larger one to convey usto Fort Vancouver. The crew were a Maltese sailor and a manwho had been in the United States army. Each had his privateopinions as to her management. Naturally, the Maltese shouldhave been captain, but the soldier was both supercargo andpart owner, and though it was blowing hard and the sails werefully large, the foreigner, who was but a poor littlecreature, had to obey orders.

　　As the river widened and grew rougher, we were wetted fromstem to stern at every plunge; and when it became evidentthat the soldier could not handle the sails if the Maltesewas kept at the helm, the heavy rifleman who was on board,declaring that he knew the river, took upon himself to steerus. In a few minutes the boat was nearly swamped. TheMaltese prayed and blasphemed in language which no oneunderstood. The oaths of the soldier were intelligibleenough. The 'heavy,' now alarmed, nervously asked what hadbetter be done. My advice was to grease the bowsprit, let gothe mast, and splice the main brace. 'In another minute ortwo,' I added, 'you'll steer us all to the bottom.'

　　Fred, who thought it no time for joking, called the riflemana 'damned fool,' and authoritatively bade him give up thetiller; saying that I had been in Her Majesty's Navy, andperhaps knew a little more about boats than he did. To thisthe other replied that 'he didn't want anyone to learn him;he reckon'd he'd been raised to boating as well as the nextman, and he'd be derned if he was going to trust his life toanybody!' Samson, thinking no doubt of his own, took hispipe out of his mouth, and towering over the steersman, flunghim like a child on one side. In an instant I was in hisplace.

　　It was a minute or two before the boat had way enough toanswer the helm. By that time we were within a dozen yardsof a reef. Having noticed, however, that the little craftwas quick in her stays, I kept her full till the last, putthe helm down, and round she spun in a moment. Before Icould thank my stars, the pintle, or hook on which the rudderhangs, broke off. The tiller was knocked out of my hand, andthe boat's head flew into the wind. 'Out with the sweeps,' Ishouted. But the sweeps were under the gear. All wasconfusion and panic. The two men cursed in the names oftheir respective saints. The 'heavy' whined, 'I told you howit w'd be.' Samson struggled valiantly to get at an oar,while Fred, setting the example, begged all hands to be calm,and be ready to fend the stern off the rocks with a boathook.

　　As we drifted into the surf I was wondering how many bumpsshe would stand before she went to pieces. Happily the watershallowed, and the men, by jumping overboard, managed to dragthe boat through the breakers under the lee of the point. Weafterwards drew her up on to the beach, kindled a fire, gotout some provisions, and stayed till the storm was over.