We were packed
for the night almost as closely as the Potawottamies, whose lodges were on
the beach before us. Parlors and garrets were turned into sleeping-rooms;
beds were made on the floors and in the passages, and double-bedded rooms
were made to receive four beds. It is no difficult feat to sleep at
Mackinaw, even in an August night, and we soon forgot, in a refreshing
slumber, the narrowness of our quarters.
Letter XXXVII.
The Island of Mackinaw.
Steamer St. Louis, Lake Huron, _August_ 20, 1846.
Yesterday evening we left the beautiful island of Mackinaw, after a visit
of two days delightfully passed. We had climbed its cliffs, rambled on its
shores, threaded the walks among its thickets, driven out in the roads
that wind through its woods - roads paved by nature with limestone pebbles,
a sort of natural macadamization, and the time of our departure seemed to
arrive several days too soon.
The fort which crowns the heights near the shore commands an extensive
prospect, but a still wider one is to be seen from the old fort, Fort
Holmes, as it is called, among whose ruined intrenchments the half-breed
boys and girls now gather gooseberries. It stands on the very crest of the
island, overlooking all the rest. The air, when we ascended it, was loaded
with the smoke of burning forests, but from this spot, in clear weather, I
was told a magnificent view might be had of the Straits of Mackinaw, the
wooded islands, and the shores and capes of the great mainland, places
known to history for the past two centuries. For when you are at Mackinaw
you are at no new settlement.
In looking for samples of Indian embroidery with porcupine quills, we
found ourselves one day in the warehouse of the American Fur Company, at
Mackinaw. Here, on the shelves, were piles of blankets, white and blue,
red scarfs, and white boots; snow-shoes were hanging on the walls, and
wolf-traps, rifles, and hatchets, were slung to the ceiling - an assortment
of goods destined for the Indians and half-breeds of the northwest. The
person who attended at the counter spoke English with a foreign accent. I
asked him how long he had been in the northwestern country.
"To say the truth," he answered, "I have been here sixty years and some
days."
"You were born here, then."
"I am a native of Mackinaw, French by the mother's side; my father was an
Englishman."
"Was the place as considerable sixty years ago as it now is?"
"More so. There was more trade here, and quite as many inhabitants. All
the houses, or nearly all, were then built; two or three only have been
put up since."
I could easily imagine that Mackinaw must have been a place of consequence
when here was the centre of the fur trade, now removed further up the
country. I was shown the large house in which the heads of the companies
of _voyageurs_ engaged in the trade were lodged, and the barracks, a long
low building, in which the _voyageurs_ themselves, seven hundred in
number, made their quarters from the end of June till the beginning of
October, when they went out again on their journeys. This interval of
three months was a merry time with those light-hearted Frenchmen. When a
boat made its appearance approaching Mackinaw, they fell to conjecturing
to what company of _voyageurs_ it belonged; as the dispute grew warm the
conjectures became bets, till finally, unable to restrain their
impatience, the boldest of them dashed into the waters, swam out to the
boat, and climbing on board, shook hands with their brethren, amidst the
shouts of those who stood on the beach.
They talk, on the New England coast, of Chebacco boats, built after a
peculiar pattern, and called after Chebacco, an ancient settlement of
sea-faring men, who have foolishly changed the old Indian name of their
place to Ipswich. The Mackinaw navigators have also given their name to a
boat of peculiar form, sharp at both ends, swelled at the sides, and
flat-bottomed, an excellent sea-boat, it is said, as it must be to live in
the wild storms that surprise the mariner on Lake Superior.
We took yesterday a drive to the western shore. The road twined through a
wood of over-arching beeches and maples, interspersed with the white-cedar
and fir. The driver stopped before a cliff sprouting with beeches and
cedars, with a small cavity at the foot. This he told us was the Skull
Cave. It is only remarkable on account of human bones having been found
in it. Further on a white paling gleamed through the trees; it inclosed
the solitary burial ground of the garrison, with half a dozen graves.
"There are few buried here," said a gentleman of our party; "the soldiers
who come to Mackinaw sick get well soon."
The road we travelled was cut through the woods by Captain Scott, who
commanded at the fort a few years since. He is the marksman whose aim was
so sure that the western people say of him, that a raccoon on a tree once
offered to come down and surrender without giving him the trouble to fire.
We passed a farm surrounded with beautiful groves. In one of its meadows
was fought the battle between Colonel Croghan and the British officer
Holmes in the war of 1813. Three luxuriant beeches stand in the edge of
the wood, north of the meadow; one of them is the monument of Holmes; he
lies buried at its root.
