BARGAINING WITH INDIANS AT ALKI, 1851
On a dull November day, the thirteenth of the month, this company landed on Alki Point.
There were A. A. Denny, his wife, Mary Boren Denny, and their three little children; Miss Louisa Boren, a younger sister of Mrs. Denny; C. D. Boren and his family; J. N. Low, Mrs. Low and their four children and Wm. N. Bell, Mrs. Sarah Bell and their family.
John and Sarah Denny with their little daughter, Loretta, remained in Oregon for several years and then removed to the Sound.
On that eventful morning the lonely occupant of the unfinished cabin was startled by an unusual sound, the rattling of an anchor chain, that of the “Exact.” Not feeling well he had the night before made some hot tea, drank it, piled both his own and Lee Terry’s blankets over him and slept long and late. Hearing the noise before mentioned he rose hastily, pushed aside the boards leaned up for a door and hurried out and down to the beach to meet his friends who left the schooner in a long boat. It was a gloomy, rainy time and the prospect for comfort was so poor that the women, except the youngest who had no family cares, sat them down on a log on the beach and wept bitter tears of discouragement. Not so with Miss Louisa Boren, whose lively curiosity and love of nature led her to examine everything she saw, the shells and pebbles of the beach, rank shrubbery and rich evergreens that covered the bank, all so new and interesting to the traveler from the far prairie country.
But little time could be spent, however, indulging in the luxury of woe as all were obliged to exert themselves to keep their effects from being carried away by the incoming tide and forgot their sorrow in busily carrying their goods upon the bank; food and shelter must be prepared, and as ever before they met the difficulties courageously.
The roof of the cabin was a little imperfect and one of the pioneer children was rendered quite uncomfortable by the more or less regular drip of the rain upon her and in after years recalled it saying that she had forever after a prejudice against camping out.
David T. Denny inadvertantly let fall the remark that he wished they had not come. A. A. Denny, his brother, came to him, pale with agitation, asking what he meant, and David attempted to allay his fears produced by anxiety for his helpless family, by saying that the cabin was not comfortable in its unfinished state.