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CHAPTER XII
“Sound trumpets, ho! – weigh anchor – loosen sail –
The seaward-flying banners chide delay;
As if’t were heaven that breathes this kindly gale,
Our life-like bark beneath it speeds away. – ”
Pinkney.
The stout ship Crisis had, like certain persons, done a good
thing purely by chance, Had her exploit happened in the year
1519, instead of that of 1800, the renowned passage we had
just escaped from would have been called the Crisis Straits, a
better name than the mongrel appellation it now bears; which
is neither English, nor Portuguese. The ship had been lost, like
a man in the woods, and came out nearer home, than those in
her could have at all expected. The “bloody currents” had been
at the bottom of the mistake, though this time they did good,
instead of harm. Any one who has been thoroughly lost on a
heath, or in a forest, or, even in a town, can comprehend how
the head gets turned on such occasions, and will understand
the manner in which we had mystified ourselves.
I shall remember the feelings of delight with which I looked
around me, as the ship passed out into the open ocean, to my
dying day. There lay the vast Pacific, its long, regular waves
rolling in towards the coast, in mountain-like ridges, it is true,
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but under a radiant sun, and in a bright atmosphere. Everybody was cheered by the view, and never did orders sound
more pleasant in my ears, than when the captain called out, in
a cheerful voice, “to man the weather braces.” This command
was given the instant it was prudent; and the ship went foaming past the last cape with the speed of a courser. Studdingsails were then set, and, when the sun was dipping, we had a
good offing, were driving to the northward under everything
we could carry, and had a fair prospect of an excellent run
from the neighbourhood of Terra del Fuego, and its stormy
seas.
It is not my intention to dwell on our passage along the
western coast of South America. A voyage to the Pacific was
a very different thing in the year 1800, however, from what
it is to-day. The power of Spain was then completely in the
ascendant, intercourse with any nation but the mother country, being strictly prohibited. It is true, a species of commerce,
that was called the “forced trade on the Spanish Main” existed
under that code of elastic morals, which adapts the maxim of
“your purse or your life” to modern diplomacy, as well as to
the habits of the highwayman. According to divers masters in
the art of ethics now flourishing among ourselves, more especially in the atmosphere of the journals of the commercial
communities, the people that “can trade and won’t trade, must
be made to trade.” At the commencement of the century, your
mercantile moralists were far less manly in the avowal of their
sentiments, though their practices were in no degree wanting
in the spirit of our more modern theories. Ships were fitted
out, armed, and navigated, on this just principle, quite as con-
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fidently and successfully as if the tongue had declared all that
the head had conceived.
Guarda-Costas were the arguments used, on the other side
of this knotty question, by the authorities of Spain; and a very
insufficient argument, on the whole, did they prove to be. It is
an old saying, that vice is twice as active as virtue; the last sleeping, while the former is hard at work. If this be true of things
in general, it is thrice true as regards smugglers and customhouse officers. Owing to this circumstance, and sundry other
causes, it is certain that English and American vessels found
the means of plundering the inhabitants of South America, at
the period of which I am writing, without having recourse to
the no longer reputable violence of Dampier, Wood, Rogers,
or Drake. As I feel bound to deal honestly with the reader,
whatever I may have done by the Spanish laws, I shall own
that we made one or two calls, as we proceeded north, shoving
ashore certain articles purchased in London, and taking on
board dollars, in return for our civility. I do not know whether
I am bound, or not, to apologize for my own agency in these
irregular transactions – regular, would be quite as apposite
a word – for, had I been disposed to murmur, it would have
done my morals no good, nor the smuggling any harm. Captain Williams was a silent man, and it was not easy to ascertain
precisely what he thought on the subject of smuggling; but, in
the way of practice, I never saw any reason to doubt that he
was a firm believer in the doctrine of Free Trade. As for Marble, he put me in mind of a certain renowned editor of a wellknown New York journal, who evidently thinks that all things
in heaven and earth, sun, moon, and stars, the void above and
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
the caverns beneath us, the universe, in short, was created to
furnish materials for newspaper paragraphs; the worthy mate,
just as confidently believing that coasts, bays, inlets, roadsteads
and havens, were all intended by nature, as means to run goods
ashore wherever the duties, or prohibitions, rendered it inconvenient to land them in the more legal mode. Smuggling, in
his view of the matter, was rather more creditable than the
regular commerce, since it required greater cleverness.
I shall not dwell on the movements of the Crisis, for the
five months that succeeded her escape from the Straits of Magellan. Suffice it to say, that she anchored at as many different
points on the coast; that all which came up the main-hatch,
went ashore; and all that came over the bulwarks, was passed
down into the run. We were chased by guarda-costas seven
times, escaping from them on each occasion, with ease; though
we had three little running fights. I observed that Captain Williams was desirous of engaging these emissaries of the law, as
easily as possible, ordering us to fire altogether at their spars. I
have since thought that this moderation proceeded from a species of principle that is common enough – a certain half-way
code of right and wrong – which encouraged him to smuggle,
but which caused him to shrink from taking human life. Your
half-way rogues are the bane of honesty.
After quitting the Spanish coast, altogether, we proceeded north, with the laudable intention of converting certain
quantities of glass-beads, inferior jack-knives, frying-pans, and
other homely articles of the same nature, into valuable furs. In
a word, we shaped our course for that district which bids fair
to set the mother and daughter by the ears, one of these days,
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AFLOAT AND ASHORE
unless it shall happen to be disposed of à la Texas, or, what
is almost as bad, à la Maine, ere long. At that time the whole
north-west coast was unoccupied by white men, and I felt no
scruples about trading with the natives who presented themselves with their skins as soon as we had anchored, believing
that they had the best right to the country and its products.
We passed months in this traffic, getting, at every point where
we stopped, something to pay us for our trouble.
We went as far north as 53°, and that is pretty much all I
ever knew of our last position. At the time, I thought we had
anchored in a bay on the main land, but I have since been
inclined to think it was in one of the many islands that line
that broken coast. We got a very secure berth, having been
led to it by a native pilot who boarded us several leagues at
sea, and who knew enough English to persuade our captain
that he could take us to a point where sea-otter skins might
be had for the asking. Nor did the man deceive us, though a
more unpromising-looking guide never had charge of smuggling Christians. He carried us into a very small bay, where
we found plenty of water, capital holding-ground, and a basin
as smooth as a dock. But one wind – that which blew from
the north-west – could make any impression on it, and the effects of even that were much broken by a small island that lay
abreast of the entrance; leaving good passages, on each side of
it, out to sea. The basin itself was rather small, it is true, but it
did well enough for a single ship. Its diameter may have been
three hundred yards, and I never saw a sheet of natural water
that was so near a circle. Into a place like this, the reader will
imagine, we did not venture without taking the proper pre-
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
cautions. Marble was sent in first, to reconnoitre and sound,
and it was on his report that Captain Williams ventured to
take the ship in.
At that time, ships on the North-West Coast had to use
the greatest precautions against the treachery and violence of
the natives. This rendered the size of our haven the subject of
distrust; for, lying in the middle of it, where we moored, we
were barely an arrow’s flight from the shore, in every direction but that which led to the narrow entrance. It was a most
secure anchorage, as against the dangers of the sea, but a most
insecure one as against the dangers of the savages. This we all
felt, as soon as our anchors were down; but, intending to remain only while we bartered for the skins which we had been
told were ready for the first ship that should offer, we trusted
to vigilance as our safeguard in the interval.
I never could master the uncouth sounds of the still more
uncouth savages of that distant region. The fellow who carried
us in had a name of his own, doubtless, but it was not to be
pronounced by a Christian tongue, and he got the sobriquet of
the Dipper from us, owing to the manner in which he ducked
at the report of our muskets, which had been discharged by
Marble merely with the intention to renew the cartridges. We
had hardly got into the little basin, before the Dipper left us,
returning in an hour, however, with a canoe loaded to the
water’s edge, with beautiful skins, and accompanied by three
savages as wild-looking, seemingly as fierce, and certainly as
avaricious as he was himself. These auxiliaries, through various little circumstances, were known among us that same afternoon, by the several appellations of Smudge, Tin-pot, and
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Slit-nose. These were not heroic names, of a certainty, but
their owners had as little of the heroic in their appearance, as
usually falls to the lot of man in the savage state. I cannot tell
the designation of the tribes to which these four worthies belonged, nor do I know any more of their history and pursuits
than the few facts which came under my own immediate observation. I did ask some questions of the captain, with a view
to obtain a few ideas on this subject, but all he knew was, that
these people put a high value on blankets, beads, gun-powder,
frying-pans, and old hoops, and that they set a remarkably low
price on sea-otter skins, as well as on the external coverings
of sundry other animals. An application to Mr. Marble was
still less successful, being met by the pithy answer that he was
“no naturalist, and knew nothing about these critturs, or any
wild beasts, in general.” Degraded as the men certainly were,
however, we thought them quite good enough to be anxious
to trade with them. Commerce, like misery, sometimes makes a
man acquainted with strange bed-fellows.
I had often seen our own Indians after they had become
degraded by their intercourse with the whites and the use of
rum, but never had I beheld any beings so low in the scale of
the human race, as the North-Western savages appeared to be.
They seemed to me to be the Hottentots of our own continent.
Still they were not altogether without the means of commanding our respect. As physical men they were both active and
strong, and there were gleams of ferocity about them, that all
their avarice and art could not conceal. I could not discover in
their usages, dress, or deportment, a single trace of that chivalrous honour which forms so great a relief to the well-estab-
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
lished cruelty of the warrior of our own part of the continent.
Then, these sea-otter dealers had some knowledge of the use
of fire-arms, and were too well acquainted with the ships of us
civilized men to have any superstitious dread of our power.
The Dipper, and his companions, sold us one hundred and
thirty-three sea-otter skins the very afternoon we anchored.
This, of itself, was thought to be a sufficient reward for the
trouble and risk of coming into this unknown basin. Both parties seemed pleased with the results of the trading, and we were
given to understand that, by remaining at anchor, we might
hope for six or eight times our present number of skins. Captain Williams was greatly gratified with the success with which
he had already met, and having found that all the Dipper had
promised came true, he determined to remain a day or two, in
his present berth, in order to wait for more bargains. This resolution was no sooner communicated to the savages than they
expressed their delight, sending off Tin-pot and Slit-nose with
the intelligence, while the Dipper and Smudge remained in
the ship, apparently on terms of perfect good-fellowship with
everybody on board. The gentry of the North-West Coast being flagrant thieves, however, all hands had orders to keep a
good look-out on our two guests, Captain Williams expressing
his intention to flog them soundly, should they be detected in
any of their usual light-fingered dexterity.
Marble and myself observed that the canoe, in which the
messengers left us, did not pull out to sea, but that it entered
a small stream, or creek, that communicated with the head of
the bay. As there was no duty on board, we asked the captain’s
permission to explore this spot; and, at the same time, to make
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a more thorough examination of our haven, generally. The request being granted, we got into the yawl, with four men, all
of us armed, and set out on our little expedition. Smudge, a
withered, grey-headed old Indian, with muscles however that
resembled whip-cord, was alone on deck, when this movement
took place. He watched our proceedings narrowly, and, when
he saw us descend into the boat, he very coolly slipped down
the ship’s side, and took his place in the stern-sheets, with as
much quiet dignity as if he had been captain. Marble was a
good deal of a ship’s martinet in such matters, and he did not
more than half like the familiarity and impudence of the procedure.
“What say you, Miles,” he asked, a little sharply, “shall we
take this dried ourang-outang ashore with us, or shall we try
to moisten him a little, by throwing him overboard’!”
“Let him go, by all means, Mr. Marble. I dare say the man
wishes to be of use, and he has only a bad manner of showing
it.”
“Of use! He is worth no more than the carcase of a whale
that has been stripped of its blubber. I say, Miles, there would
be no need of the windlass to heave the blanket off of this
fish!”
This professional witticism put Marble in good humour
with himself, and he permitted the fellow to remain. I remember the thoughts that passed through my mind, as the yawl
pulled towards the creek, on that occasion, as well as if it had
all occurred yesterday. I sat looking at the semi-human being who was seated opposite, wondering at the dispensation
of Divine Providence which could leave one endowed with a
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portion of the ineffable; nature of the Deity, in a situation so
degraded. I had seen beasts in cages that appeared to me to
be quite as intelligent, and members of the diversified family of human caricatures, or of the baboons and monkeys, that
I thought were quite as agreeable objects to the eye. Smudge
seemed to be almost without ideas. In his bargains, he had
trusted entirely to the vigilance of the Dipper, whom we supposed to be some sort of a relation; and the articles he received
in exchange for his skins, failed to arouse in his grim, vacant
countenance, the smallest signs of pleasure. Emotion and he, if
they had been acquainted, now appeared to be utter strangers
to each other; nor was this apathy in the least like the wellknown stoicism of the American Indian; but had the air of
downright insensibility. Yet this man assuredly had a soul, a
spark of the never-dying flame that separates man from all the
other beings of earth!
The basin in which the Crisis lay was entirely fringed with
forest. The trees in most places even overhung the water, forming an impenetrable screen to everything inland, at the season
when they were in leaf. Not a sign of a habitation of any sort
was visible; and, as we approached the shore, Marble remarked
that the savages could only resort to the place at the moments
when they had induced a ship to enter, in order to trade with
them.
“No – no,” added the mate, turning his head in all directions, in order to take a complete survey of the bay; “there are
no wigwams, or papooses, hereabouts. This is only a tradingpost; and luckily for us, it is altogether without custom-house
officers.”
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