CHAPTER VIII

SACAJAWEA

1790-1884

During the last years of the eighteenth century, in an Indian village along the banks of the Snake River, just west of the Bitter Root Mountains, in what is now the state of Idaho, a little girl was born. She was named Sacajawea (Sah-cah″-jah-we′ah), which in English means “Bird-woman.” Of her early life there is little to tell. She doubtless lived as did the rest of her tribe, grinding corn into meal, providing the food, always out-of-doors, alert and resourceful.

When she was about nine years old the Shoshones (or Snake Indians, as they were sometimes called) were attacked suddenly by their hereditary foe, the Minnetarees of Knife River. They hastily retreated three miles up-stream and concealed themselves in the woods, but the enemy pursued. Being too few to contend successfully, the Shoshone men mounted their horses and fled, while the women and children scattered, but were soon captured. Sacajawea tried to escape by crossing the river at a shallow place, but half-way over was taken prisoner.

Eastward the captives were hurried, to a Minnetaree village near the present city of Bismarck, North Dakota, and here the girl Sacajawea was sold as a slave to Toussaint Chaboneau, a French half-breed, a wanderer and interpreter for the Northwest Fur Company. When she was about fourteen, an age considered womanhood among the Indians, Chaboneau married her.

In October of that year, 1804, there was much excitement in the village. Up the river from the south came a great boat, filled with white men, who, finding a good site for their camp on an island not far from the Minnetaree wigwams, landed, built a number of log huts and remained throughout the winter. From all the region roundabout the inquisitive Indians were continually visiting these white men whose errand was strange though peaceable. Not to make war, but to travel far to the west had they come. Among their supplies were many things about which the savages were curious. The squaws particularly were attracted by a mill that would grind their maize, enviously comparing its ease and speed with their slow methods. They longed for many articles in the white men’s packs, and were glad to barter their corn for blue and white beads, for rings and for cloth. There was constant trading, and many, many were the questions asked about the great unknown country to the north and west.

A Canadian half-breed served the two white leaders of the party as interpreter. They also talked through Chaboneau, who knew both French and an Indian dialect, and who one day pointed out Sacajawea to them saying proudly, “She my slave, I buy her from de Rock Mountain, I make her my wife.” When they heard who the Bird-woman was, they invited her and her husband to go with them on their long journey. He could interpret for some of the tribes, she for the Shoshones, for she had not forgotten the language of her childhood.

On the eleventh of February Sacajawea’s son Baptiste was born, and a merry little papoose he proved to be. The travelers started west on the seventh of April, Chaboneau accompanying them, and Sacajawea carrying her baby, not quite two months old; every step of that five-thousand-mile journey she carried him, so that he was the most traveled papoose in the land.

Taking the Bird-woman with them was an extremely wise measure on the part of the leaders, Lewis and Clark. Her presence was a sure guarantee that their intentions were peaceful, for no Indian tribe ever took a woman in their war parties. For the whole group of men the presence of this gentle, virtuous, retiring little woman and her baby must have had a softening, humanizing effect, greater than they were aware. Near the fire she would sit, making moccasins and crooning a song in her soft Indian monotone, while the baby toddled about, the two giving a touch of domesticity to that Oregon winter.

There were many heroes of this journey to the Far West, but only one heroine--this modest, unselfish, tireless squaw. With the strongest of the men she canoed and trudged and climbed and starved, always with the baby strapped on her back. Long dreary months of toil she endured like a Spartan. Instead of being a drag on their progress she was time and again the inspiration, the genius of the expedition. And in their journals both Lewis and Clark gave her frequent credit for her splendid services and frankly acknowledged in terms of respect and admiration their indebtedness to her.

One May afternoon when the travelers had been five or six weeks on their journey and were making good time with a sail hoisted on their boat, a sudden squall of wind struck them. The boat nearly went over, for Chaboneau, who was an interpreter and not a helmsman, lost his head, let go the tiller and called loudly to God for mercy. The water poured in and the boat was almost capsized before the men could cut the sail down. Out on the stream floated valuable papers and instruments, books, medicine, and a great quantity of merchandise. Always plucky in trouble, Sacajawea, who was in the rear, saved nearly all of these things, which were worth far more than their intrinsic value, since to replace them meant a journey of three thousand miles and a year’s delay. No wonder that Clark added, when speaking of the quick action of the Bird-woman, “to whom I ascribe equal fortitude and resolution with any person on board at the time of the accident.”

Soon after this, from the tenth of June to the twenty-fourth, Sacajawea was very ill. One of the white captains bled her, a process that must have seemed strange to the Indian girl, but from their journals one can see that excellent care was taken of her. The party must continue on its way, so she was moved into the back part of the boat which was covered over and cool. All one night the Bird-woman complained, refusing the medicine offered her, while Chaboneau made constant petition to be allowed to return with his squaw.

The leaders were concerned for Sacajawea for they knew enough of medicine to see that her case was serious. And they were also concerned for the expedition’s sake, for she was their sole dependence to negotiate with the Shoshone Indians on whom they relied for help. Lewis therefore determined to make camp till she was entirely restored. He persuaded her to take some laudanum and herbs and two days later wrote in his diary:

“Indian woman much better to-day. Continued same course of medicine. She is free from pain, clear of fever, her pulse regular, eats as heartily as I am willing to permit her of broiled buffalo well seasoned with pepper and salt and rich soup of the same meat.”

The next day she improved rapidly, sat up for a time and even walked out. But alas! this brief period of convalescence Sacajawea evidently thought sufficient, and the following morning she

“walked out and gathered a considerable quantity of white apples of which she ate so heartily in their raw state, together with a considerable quantity of dried fish without my knowledge that she complained very much and her fever returned. I rebuked Chaboneau severely for suffering her to indulge herself with such food, and gave her diluted nitre and thirty drops of laudanum.”

The next day, however, she appeared to be in a fair way for recovery, walking about and fishing, so the party again started westward.

Nine days later, while Clark, Chaboneau and Sacajawea were making a portage, they noticed a black cloud coming up rapidly in the west. Hunting about for shelter they found a ravine protected by shelving rocks. Clark had laid aside his gun and compass, the Bird-woman her baby’s extra clothes and his cradle, when suddenly rain fell in such a torrent that it washed down rocks and earth from higher up the gorge. A landslide followed but just before the heaviest part of it struck them, the white captain seized his gun in one hand and with the other dragged Sacajawea, her baby in her arms, up the steep bank. Chaboneau caught at her and pulled her along, but was too frightened to be of much help.

Down the ravine in a rolling torrent came the rain, with irresistible force, driving rocks and earth and everything before it. The water rose waist high and before Clark could reach the higher ground had ruined his watch. The compass and the cradle and the baby’s clothes were washed away. By the time they reached the top of the hill the water was fifteen feet deep in the ravine. Anxious lest little Baptiste take cold and fearful that Sacajawea should suffer a relapse, Clark hurried the group to camp with all possible speed and gave the Indian woman a little spirits to revive her.

Toward the end of July they came to a country which Sacajawea knew. At first she was guided by instinct, like a homing bird. Then she began to recognize familiar landmarks, for this was where she had lived as a little girl. Both as guide and interpreter she was now the leading individual in the party, and of invaluable service. Often the white men could not see plainly the buffalo paths and Indian trails, but she divined them immediately. During her childhood she had traveled this road often, for it was the great resort of the Shoshones who came there to gather quamash and to trap the beaver.

Reaching the three forks of the Missouri River she advised that they follow the southern branch, as that was the route her tribe always took when crossing into the plains. One of their camps, the Bird-woman said, was on the very spot where she herself had been taken prisoner.

“She showed no distress at these recollections,” comments the record, “nor any joy at the prospect of being restored to her country, for she seems to possess the folly or philosophy of not suffering her feelings to extend beyond the anxiety of having plenty to eat and a few trinkets to wear.”

But that Sacajawea had no emotions was clearly a mistaken inference, for the journal, a few days later, has an interesting story to tell. Hoping to find an Indian trail that would lead to a tribe which could supply them guides and horses, they landed, resolved to succeed if it took a month’s time. It seemed a forlorn search, but at all costs these two necessities must be had.

With Chaboneau and his wife, Clark was walking along the shore, the Indians a hundred yards ahead, when Sacajawea began to dance and show every mark of the most extravagant joy, turning round to the white captain, pointing to several Indians approaching them, and sucking her fingers to show that they belonged to her tribe. Suddenly a woman made her way through the crowd, ran toward her and embraced her with the most tender affection. Companions in childhood, they had been taken prisoner at the same time and had shared captivity. Finally the one had escaped, while the other was left to be sold as a slave to the half-breed interpreter. A peculiarly touching meeting this was, for they had scarcely hoped ever to see each other again, and now they were renewing their friendship.

The two white captains meanwhile had a long conference with the Shoshone chief. After smoking together, gifts were exchanged. Then in order to converse more intelligently, Sacajawea was sent for. She sat down and began to translate, when, looking intently at the Indian chief, she recognized him as her brother. Jumping up she ran to him, embraced him, threw her blanket over him and wept. The chief himself was moved. Sacajawea tried to go on with her work of interpretation, but seemed overpowered by the situation and was frequently interrupted by tears.

Cameahwait, the Shoshone chief, agreed to aid the white men, giving them horses and guides, in which business Sacajawea was of the greatest help. She had a long talk with her brother, telling him of the great power of the American government, of the advantages he would receive by trading with the whites, and completely won the good will of her nation as she did that of other tribes they met. She persuaded her people to make the white men’s journey through their country possible.

Now the chief wealth of the Shoshone Indians was in their small wiry horses, fleet and sure-footed. Fine presents the white chiefs gave in exchange for pack-horses--an axe, a knife, a handkerchief and a little paint, all for one horse. As long as the supply of kettles held out, a kettle and a white pony were considered an even trade. Sometimes instead of the coveted kettle Clark would give a sword, a hundred bullets and powder, with some additional small articles. Once three horses were bargained for with one of the Indians, who left, the proud possessor of a chief’s coat, handkerchiefs, a shirt, leggings and a few arrow points. One day after many wares were offered in exchange for otter skins, Sacajawea gave the precious beads which she wore around her waist.

The Bird-woman was invaluable also as an interpreter. The captains would speak in English, which was put into French by one of the men, Chaboneau then repeated it in the Minnetaree dialect to his wife, who translated it into the Shoshone tongue which was understood by an Indian boy in the party, and he in turn told it to the tribe with whom Lewis and Clark wished to talk. Do you wonder that when possible they all used sign language, and relied still more on the language of gifts?

The Americans were surprised that Sacajawea showed no desire to remain with her own people, but her loyalty and devotion to the explorers were unfailing. Once she learned of threatened treachery on the part of her tribe, that they planned to break camp and go down the Missouri River to the buffalo country on the east, taking with them the horses which had been promised to the white men. This would leave the newcomers stranded in the mountains, the lack of horses preventing their going westward. Immediately she told Lewis and Clark, who called the chiefs together, and after some discussion the plan was changed. By the end of August, with a replenished larder and fresh horses, the explorers were ready to start once more on their journey westward.

The road, Sacajawea told the white captains, was over steep and rocky mountains, in whose fastnesses they would come to the narrow divide marking the source of the Missouri River. An hour later they would find a stream running west, that would grow into a large river and flow on till it came to the great waters far away. But there was no food along its course, no paths along its rocky banks, no canoes could swim on its rough current. If they went on they must follow rude Indian trails where there was no game. For ten days they must cross a sandy desert. In many places travel would be slow.

Slow progress indeed it was, on this toilsome, dangerous journey. Some days five miles was the best they could make; other days they went forward scarcely at all. Food became scarce, and among the men, as winter weather came on, there was much sickness. Once they had a six-day storm that drenched everything they had on. And by this time their supply of dried meat and fish was exhausted.

They followed obscure windings of Indian trails, known only to the savages. Sometimes they made their way through wild cañons strewn with stones; sometimes they climbed painfully up a rough slippery height, or skirted the edge of a precipice. Almost a month was spent in getting through the mountains. Cold, half-starved, fatigued, ragged, footsore, they came out on the other side, more like fugitives than conquerors.

What would they have done without Sacajawea? Dauntless and determined, always cheerful and resourceful, she had in her care the lives and fortunes of the whole party. It was she who gathered plants unknown to the white captains and cooked them into a mush. It was she who varied their monotonous diet by roasting, boiling and drying fennel roots, and stewing wild onions with their meat. It was she who found berries and edible seeds when starvation seemed the only outcome. She searched in the prairie dogs’ holes with a sharp stick and discovered wild artichokes, as valuable as potatoes, with a delicious flavor. She taught the white men how to break shank bones of elk, boil them and extract the grease to make “trapper’s butter.” When Clark was ill she made bread for him with some flour she had saved for her baby--the only mouthful he tasted for days.

Late in November they reached the coast and spent the winter, a forlorn group, at Fort Clatsop. There was much sickness and the strength of the men began to fail. There was nothing but dried fish for food, and it rained and rained till their clothes and bedding rotted away.

They had a strange celebration on Christmas day, when the men sang songs in the morning, and the Bird-woman brought a gift to Clark--two dozen white weasels’ tails!

In January during a brief interval of sunny weather, they planned to go to the beach to get oil and blubber from a whale that was reported stranded there. Sacajawea had heard of the Pacific in the legends of her tribe, she had heard of whales too, and begged to be allowed to go. Had she traveled all that long way only to fail to see the great waters and the great fish? So Clark agreed that she should accompany them. When they arrived the Indians had already disposed of the whale, the skeleton, a hundred and five feet long, being all that was left.

Because of sickness and scant stores of food, bitterly disappointed when no trading ships appeared with fresh supplies, they began the return trip early in March instead of in April. Progress was so rapid that the journey which westward had lasted for full eight months, was made in five, and six weeks of this time was taken up by a detour. The party divided and Clark, with Chaboneau and Sacajawea as guides, went to explore the Yellowstone.

In August they were once more at the Minnetaree village where the Bird-woman had first seen the white captains and their mill for grinding corn. Here the leaders said good-by to their Indian friend and guide. Clark offered to take the family to the states, give them land, horses, cows and hogs to start farming, or a boatload of merchandise as a stock for trading. But Chaboneau preferred to remain among the Indians, saying he had no acquaintance in the East and no chance of making a livelihood. Clark then offered to take the baby, “my little dancing boy Baptiste,” now eighteen months old, and bring him up as his own child, but Sacajawea refused.

Chaboneau’s wages, together with the payment for a horse, were five hundred dollars and thirty-three cents. The records say not a word of any sum for Sacajawea whose faithfulness and intelligence had made success possible. She who could divine routes, who had courage when the men quailed, who could spread as good a table with bones as others with meat, was unthought of when bounties in land and money were granted.

Writing back to Chaboneau a few days later, Clark did indeed give her full credit when he said:

“Your woman who accompanied you that long and dangerous and fatiguing route to the Pacific Ocean and back deserved a greater reward for her attention and services on that route than we had in our power to give her at the Mandans.”

Chaboneau’s money probably served to establish his family very comfortably in the village in Dakota. You can imagine what stories they told of their adventures during the long winter evenings--of the wild animals they met, of their escape from the cloudburst at the Great Falls, of the mysterious, explosive sounds heard in the mountains, of the portages they made, of shooting the rapids in the Columbia, of their struggle among the snows of the Bitter Root range, and of the great salt ocean at the sunset--for they had taken part in the most remarkable exploration of modern times.

For many years there is no record of Sacajawea. Clark, as superintendent of Indian affairs, in 1837 appointed Chaboneau interpreter, with a salary of three hundred dollars. And there is one official item, an expense account for a boy (possibly Baptiste) in school at Saint Louis, which was paid to Chaboneau, in 1820. The little papoose who traveled all that long journey grew up to be a guide, with his mother’s native instinct and cleverness. He served with Bridger in southwest Wyoming; he is mentioned with Fremont in 1842 and from sometime in the sixties he lived on an Indian reservation in Fremont County, Wyoming.

Sacajawea was there with him after 1871. An old, old woman, she is described by one of the missionaries, Doctor Irwin, short of stature, spare of figure, quick in her movements, remarkably straight and wonderfully active and intelligent considering her great age. She often told of her journey to the place of “much water for the great Washington,” as the government was always referred to, and talked of the “big waters beyond the shining mountains, toward the setting sun.” And on that reservation she died and was buried.

The journey of the two white captains pushed the frontier from the Mississippi to the coast. It burst through the Rocky Mountain barrier and opened the gates to the Pacific slope. It gave the nation a rich territory from which ten states were formed. But the services of Sacajawea had for many years no lasting commemoration. Shortly after the adventure in the boat the leaders did indeed name a river for the Bird-woman, one of the branches of the Musselshell in central Montana, but the very first settlers changed it from Sacajawea to Crooked Creek and so it is called to-day. In very recent times the Geological Survey named for her the great peak in the Bridger range overlooking the spot where she was captured, and where she pointed out the pass over the mountains--a route chosen years later by the engineers of the Northern Pacific Railroad. This place was also marked with a boulder and tablet by the Montana chapter of the Daughters of the Revolution.

That is all that remains of Sacajawea--a peak bearing her name, and her story. A century after her long journey the women of Oregon erected, in the center of the great exposition court at Portland, a bronze statue of the noble Indian girl whose faithful service as a guide made possible the success of the Lewis and Clark Expedition.