“Among the many stories of early days and reminiscences recalled at the pioneers’ gathering one of the most interesting was Mr. Shelton’s story of the trip of the Mary Taylor from Portland to Port Townsend. Mr. Shelton had committed his reminiscences to manuscript as follows:
“‘Fifty years ago, some time about the first of February, the little 75-ton schooner Mary Taylor left Portland, Ore., for Puget Sound, having on board the families of L. B. Hastings, F. W. Pettygrove, David Shelton, Thomas Tallentyre, Benjamin Ross and Smith Hayes. Mr. Hayes had no family here, but I think he had a family in the East. Mr. Ross had one son, about 20 years old.
“‘Our little craft was navigated by Captain Hutchinson and a crew of four or five men. The families were all old acquaintances. Those of Hastings, Ross and Shelton crossed the plains together in 1847, and concluded to cast their fortunes together again in their last great move, which was to this country.
“‘We lay at Astoria several days, waiting for a favorable opportunity to cross the bar. We made three trials before we ventured out to sea and were three or four days getting up to Cape Flattery, where we lay quite a while in a calm. We found here that we were in soundings, and some of the party commenced fishing, but all they could catch were dog fish, which we tried to eat, but we found that they were not the kind of fish that we cared about.
“‘Our first sight of Indians in this part of the country was off Neah Bay. We were drifting near Waadah Island, when canoes came swarming out of their village in the bay. We had heard ugly stories about this tribe, and prepared for them by stacking our arms around the masts, to be handy in case of need. They were clamorous to come on board, but we thought that they were as well off in their canoes as they would be anywhere else. Some of our party sauntered along the deck with guns in their hands, in view of the Indians.
“‘The Indians then wanted to trade fish for tobacco and trinkets. A few pieces of tobacco were thrown into their canoes and then they commenced throwing fish aboard, and such fish for a landsman to look at! There were bull-heads, rock-cod, kelp-fish, mackerel, fish as flat as your hand, and skates, and other monstrosities, the likes of which the most of our party had never seen before, and when our old cook dished them up for us at dinner we found that they were fine and delicious. There is where we made the acquaintance of sea-bass and rock-cod, and we have cultivated their acquaintance ever since. There were also mussels and clams among the lot, which we found to be very good. We were surrounded by another lot of Indians near Clallam Bay, with about the same performances and with the same results as at Neah Bay.’
“Another incident that I recall happened near Dungeness spit. A couple of canoes filled with Indians came alongside and as there was only a few of them they were allowed to come on board. The tyee of the crowd introduced himself as Lord Jim. He wore a plug hat, a swallowtailed coat, a shirt and an air of immense importance. I suppose he had secured his outfit as a ‘cultus potlatch’ from persons he had met. He had evidently met several white people in his time, as he had a number of testimonials as to his character as a good Indian. I remember of hearing one of his testimonials read and it impressed me as having come from one who had studied the Indian character to some effect. It read something like this:
“‘To whom it may concern: This will introduce Lord Jim, a noted Indian of this part of the country. Look out for him or he will steal the buttons off your coat.’ A further acquaintance with Lord Jim seemed to inspire the belief that the confidence of the writer was not misplaced.
“Shortly after we left Lord Jim we sailed along Protection Island, one of the beauty spots of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Somewhere along here another thing happened—trivial in its nature—the memory of which has stayed with me all these years. Mr. Pettygrove was walking the deck in a meditative manner, when he happened to feel that he needed a cigar. He called to his son, Ben, about six years old, and told him to bring him some cigars. Ben wanted to know how many he should get. His father told him to get as many as he had fingers on both hands. Ben, proud of his commission, darted away and soon returned with eight cigars. His father looked at them a moment and said: ‘How is this; you have only brought me eight cigars?’ ‘Well,’ said Ben, ‘that is all the fingers I have.’ ‘No,’ said his father, ‘you have ten on both your hands.’ ‘Why, no I haven’t,’ said Ben, ‘two of them are thumbs,’ and I guess Ben was right.
“The next morning, after passing Dungeness Spit, we found our vessel anchored abreast of what is now the business part of Port Townsend, which was then a large Indian village. That was February 21, 1852, fifty years ago today. How it stirs the blood and quickens the memory to look back over those eventful years—eventful years for our state, our Pacific Coast and our entire country—and these years have been equally eventful for the little band that landed here that day so full of hope and energy.
“Our fathers and mothers are all gone to their well-earned rest and reward. Of the thirteen children that were with them at that time nine are still living, and I am proud of the fact that they are all respectable citizens of the community in which they live. They have seen all the history of this part of the country that amounts to much and in their humble way have helped to make it. They have helped conquer the wilderness and the savages and have done their share in laying the foundation of what will be one of the greatest states of our Union. Their fathers were men of honesty and more than ordinary force of character, as their deeds and labors in behalf of their country and families show, and the mothers of blessed memory—their children never realized the power for good they were in this world until they were grown and had families of their own, but they know it now. They know now how they encouraged their husbands when dark days came; how they cheerfully shared the trials and hardships incident to those early pioneer days, and when brighter fortunes came they exercised the same helpful guiding influence in their well ordered, comfortable homes that they did in their first log cabins in the wilderness.”
CHAPTER VII.
PERSONNEL OF THE PIONEER ARMY.
A long roll of honor I might call of the brave men and women who dared and strove in the wild Northwest of the long ago. If I speak of representative pioneers, those unnamed might be equally typical of the bold army of “forest-felling kings,” “forest-fallers” as well as “fighters,” like those Northland men of old.
There are the names of Denny, Yesler, Phillips, Terry, Low, Boren, Butler, Bell, Mercer, Maple, Van Asselt, Horton, Hanford, McConaha, Smith, Maynard, Frye, Blaine and others who felled the forest and laid foundations at and near Seattle; Briggs, Hastings, Van Bokkelin, Hammond, Pettygrove with others founded Port Townsend, while Lansdale, Crockett, Alexander, Cranney, Kellogg, Hancock, Izett, Busby, Ebey and Coupe, led the van for Whidby Island; Eldridge and Roeder at Bellingham Bay; toward the head of navigation, McAllister, Bush, Simmons, Packwood, Chambers, Shelton, are a few of those who blazed the way.
The blows of the sturdy forest-felling kings rang out from many a favored spot on the shores of the great Inland Sea, cheerful signals for the thousands to come after them.
REV. D. E. BLAINE
WILLIAM R. BOREN CARSON D. BOREN