Steering to the north, Captain Thorn arrived in a few days at
Vancouver's Island, and anchored in the harbor of Neweetee, very
much against the advice of his Indian interpreter, who warned him
against the perfidious character of the natives of this part of
the coast.
Numbers of canoes soon came off, bringing sea-otter
skins to sell. It was too late in the day to commence a traffic,
but Mr. M'Kay, accompanied by a few of the men, went on shore to
a large village to visit Wicananish, the chief of the surrounding
territory, six of the natives remaining on board as hostages. He
was received with great professions of friendship, entertained
hospitably, and a couch of sea-otter skins prepared for him in
the dwelling of the chieftain, where he was prevailed upon to
pass the night.
In the morning, before Mr. M'Kay had returned to the ship, great
numbers of the natives came off in their canoes to trade, headed
by two sons of Wicananish. As they brought abundance of sea-otter
skins, and there was every appearance of a brisk trade, Captain
Thorn did not wait for the return of Mr. M'Kay, but spread his
wares upon the deck, making a tempting display of blankets,
cloths, knives, beads, and fish-hooks, expecting a prompt and
profitable sale. The Indians, however, were not so eager and
simple as he had supposed, having learned the art of bargaining
and the value of merchandise from the casual traders along the
coast. They were guided, too, by a shrewd old chief named
Nookamis, who had grown gray in traffic with New England
skippers, and prided himself upon his acuteness. His opinion
seemed to regulate the market. When Captain Thorn made what he
considered a liberal offer for an otter-skin, the wily old Indian
treated it with scorn, and asked more than double. His comrades
all took their cue from him, and not an otter-skin was to be had
at a reasonable rate.
The old fellow, however, overshot his mark, and mistook the
character of the man he was treating with. Thorn was a plain,
straightforward sailor, who never had two minds nor two prices in
his dealings, was deficient in patience and pliancy, and totally
wanting in the chicanery of traffic. He had a vast deal of stern
but honest pride in his nature, and, moreover, held the whole
savage race in sovereign contempt. Abandoning all further
attempts, therefore, to bargain with his shuffling customers, he
thrust his hands into his pockets, and paced up and down the deck
in sullen silence. The cunning old Indian followed him to and
fro, holding out a sea-otter skin to him at every turn, and
pestering him to trade. Finding other means unavailing, he
suddenly changed his tone, and began to jeer and banter him upon
the mean prices he offered. This was too much for the patience of
the captain, who was never remarkable for relishing a joke,
especially when at his own expense. Turning suddenly upon his
persecutor, he snatched the proffered otter-skin from his hands,
rubbed it in his face, and dismissed him over the side of the
ship with no very complimentary application to accelerate his
exit. He then kicked the peltries to the right and left about
the deck, and broke up the market in the most ignominious manner.
Old Nookamis made for shore in a furious passion, in which he was
joined by Shewish, one of the sons of Wicananish, who went off
breathing vengeance, and the ship was soon abandoned by the
natives.
When Mr. M'Kay returned on board, the interpreter related what
had passed, and begged him to prevail upon the captain to make
sail, as from his knowledge of the temper and pride of the people
of the place, he was sure they would resent the indignity offered
to one of their chiefs. Mr. M'Kay, who himself possessed some
experience of Indian character, went to the captain, who was
still pacing the deck in moody humor, represented the danger to
which his hasty act had exposed the vessel, and urged him to
weigh anchor. The captain made light of his counsels, and pointed
to his cannon and fire-arms as sufficient safeguard against naked
savages. Further remonstrances only provoked taunting replies and
sharp altercations. The day passed away without any signs of
hostility, and at night the captain retired as usual to his
cabin, taking no more than the usual precautions.
On the following morning, at daybreak, while the captain and Mr.
M'Kay were yet asleep, a canoe came alongside in which were
twenty Indians, commanded by young Shewish. They were unarmed,
their aspect and demeanor friendly, and they held up otter-skins,
and made signs indicative of a wish to trade. The caution
enjoined by Mr. Astor, in respect to the admission of Indians on
board of the ship, had been neglected for some time past, and the
officer of the watch, perceiving those in the canoe to be without
weapons, and having received no orders to the contrary, readily
permitted them to mount the deck. Another canoe soon succeeded,
the crew of which was likewise admitted. In a little while other
canoes came off, and Indians were soon clambering into the vessel
on all sides.
The officer of the watch now felt alarmed, and called to Captain
Thorn and Mr. M'Kay. By the time they came on deck, it was
thronged with Indians. The interpreter noticed to Mr. M'Kay that
many of the natives wore short mantles of skins, and intimated a
suspicion that they were secretly armed. Mr. M'Kay urged the
captain to clear the ship and get under way. He again made light
of the advice; but the augmented swarm of canoes about the ship,
and the numbers still putting off from shore, at length awakened
his distrust, and he ordered some of the crew to weigh anchor,
while some were sent aloft to make sail.
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