These two, David T. Denny and Lee Terry, proceeded to lay the foundation of the first cabin built on Elliott Bay and also the first in King County. Their only tools were an ax and a hammer. The logs were too heavy for the two white men to handle by themselves, and after they were cut, passing Indians, muscular braves, were called on to assist, which they willingly did, Mr. Denny giving them bread as a reward, the same being an unaccustomed luxury to them.
Several days after the foundation was laid, L. M. Collins and “Nesqually John,” an Indian, passed by the camp and rising cabin, driving oxen along the beach, on their way to the claim selected by Collins on the fertile banks of the Duwampsh River.
When D. T. Denny and Lee Terry wrote their names on the first page of our history, they could not fully realize the import of their every act, yet no doubt they were visionary. Sleeping in their little brush tent at night, what dreams may have visited them! Dreams, perhaps, of fleets of white-winged ships with the commerce of many nations, of busy cities, of throngs of people. Probably they set about chopping down the tall fir trees in a cheerful mood, singing and whistling to the astonishment of the pine squirrels and screech owls thus rudely disturbed. Their camp equipage and arrangements were of the simplest and rudest and Mr. Denny relates that Lee Terry would not cook so he did the cooking. He made a “johnny cake” board of willow wood to bake bread upon.
Fish and game were cooked before the camp fire. The only cooking vessel was a tin pail.
One evening Old Duwampsh Curley, whose Indian name was Su-whalth, with several others, visited them and begged the privilege of camping near by. Permission given, the Indians built a fire and proceeded to roast a fine, fat duck transfixed on a sharp stick, placing a large clam shell underneath to catch the gravy. When it was cooked to their minds, Curley offered a choice cut to the white men, who thanked him but declined to partake, saying that they had eaten their supper.
Old Curley remembered it and in after years often reminded his white friend of the incident, laughing slyly, “He! He! Boston man halo tikke Siwash muck-a-muck” (white man do not like Indian’s food), knowing perfectly well the reason they would not accept the proffered dainty.
J. N. Low had returned to Portland and Terry went to Olympia on the return trip of Collins’ scow, leaving David T. Denny alone with “New York,” the unfinished cabin and the Indians. For three weeks he was the sole occupant and was ill a part of the time.
Meanwhile, the families left behind had not been idle, but having made up their minds that the end of their rainbow rested on Puget Sound, set sail on the schooner “Exact,” with others who intended to settle at various points on the Inland Sea, likewise a party of gold hunters bound for Queen Charlotte’s Island.
They were one week getting around Cape Flattery and up the Sound as far as Alki Point. It was a rough introduction to the briny deep, as the route covered the most tempestuous portion of the northwest coast. Well acquainted as they were with prairie schooners, a schooner on the ocean was another kind of craft and they enjoyed (?) their first experience of seasickness crossing the bar of the Columbia. As may be easily imagined, the fittings were not of the most luxurious kind and father, mother and the children gathered socially around a washing tub to pay their respects to Neptune.
The gold miners, untouched by mal de mer, sang jolly songs and played cards to amuse themselves. Their favorite ditty was the round “Three Blind Mice” and they sang also many good old campmeeting songs. Poor fellows! they were taken captive by the Indians of Queen Charlotte’s Island and kept in slavery a number of years until Victorians sent an expedition for their rescue, paid their ransom and they were released.