The ordeal of inspection being over, the boat proceeded on her way with no further drawbacks than those arising from the various hindrances to navigation. One of the disagreeable features of the trip above the mouth of the Big Sioux River was the vast number of dead buffalo that were encountered. They had been drowned on the upper river at the time of the spring break-up in attempting to cross the ice after it became too weak. Their bodies had then floated downstream and had lodged all along the river on sandbars, islands, or the low shores. Some time having elapsed since they were drowned, their flesh was now in a condition that rendered the air almost insupportable.
AN INDIAN ATTACK.
An incident which caused considerable excitement, but luckily no misfortune, occurred at Handy’s Point (where Fort Randall later stood) on the 22d of May. A band of eight or ten Santee Indians, apparently angered because the boat would not stop for them, opened fire upon it from the bank. The bullets tore through the cabins and pilot-house, but by the greatest good luck no one was hurt. A Scotchman who was asleep in his bunk was awakened and terribly frightened by one of the bullets which entered his berth, passing through his pantaloons, and flattening itself against a trunk. Audubon saved two of the spent bullets as relics. He was himself standing near one of the chimneys and saw a bullet splash in the water just in front of the boat. Considering the large number of people on board, the escape of everyone was almost miraculous.
CAREFUL OF HIS EYESIGHT.
Captain La Barge was at the wheel at the time. In the pilot-house with him was a French negro from Louisiana named Jacques Desiré, always known as Black Dave. He was an excellent pilot and was on board with a crew to return with the steamboat Trapper, which had been left up the river the previous autumn on account of low water. When the bullet crashed through the pilot-house Black Dave walked quietly out and took shelter behind one of the smokestacks, where he remained until the boat was well away from the scene of the attack. Captain La Barge asked him why he did not remain in the pilot-house, so as to be ready to take the wheel in case he himself were disabled. Dave replied that it was not the fear of bullets that drove him away, but that his eyesight was all he had to make his living by, and he was afraid of its getting injured by the flying glass.
AN UNPOPULAR PASSENGER.
As may readily be understood, a feature of first importance on this trip was the presence of so distinguished a passenger as the naturalist Audubon. The impression which the celebrated scientist made upon the crew and those who were entertaining him was quite unfavorable. He was very reserved, and when he did hold intercourse with members of the crew it was generally in an overbearing manner which alienated their good will. It thus resulted that his hunters rendered him inefficient service, and his journal is full of complaints at their failure to keep their promises. Certain personal habits aggravated this defect, and altogether he was not a popular traveler with the crew.
Captain La Barge mentions several instances of his ill treatment, one of which concerned himself, and is here given in his own words, as he once prepared them for publication in the Missouri Republican:
THE BLACK SQUIRREL.
“On one occasion he [Audubon] asked me if I had ever seen any black squirrels during my voyages on the upper Missouri River. My answer was that I had often killed them. ‘Do you know what a black squirrel is?’ he asked. I replied that I knew what I called a black squirrel, and would try to get him one at the first opportunity. A few days later we were windbound. Seeing that we would be compelled to remain tied to the bank most of the day I took my gun and started around to look for a black squirrel. I was fortunate. I ran across a very fine one and shot him. He proved to be a fine large buck. I brought him aboard. The first person I met was Mr. Bell, taxidermist of the Audubon party, who remarked, after examining the squirrel, that it was certainly a very fine specimen. He called Mr. Audubon’s attention to it, who examined the animal carefully, and then said to me: ‘That is what you call a black squirrel, is it? I expected as much. It is very strange that people born and raised in a country do not know the names of the animals and birds which it produces.’ After the squirrel had been thus criticised for some time, I remarked that I would take it down to the cook and have it baked for dinner. ‘No, no!’ said Mr. Audubon, ‘Mr. Bell will take care of it’; and then walked off.