II.
THE GREAT PORT TOWNSEND CONTROVERSY,
SHOWING HOW WHISKY BUILT A CITY.
Few persons who have visited the Pacific coast of late years are ignorant of the fact that the city of Port Townsend is eligibly situated on Puget's Sound, near the Straits of Fuca; and none who have seen that remarkable city can hesitate a moment to admit that it is a commercial metropolis without parallel.
Port Townsend is indeed a remarkable place. I am not acquainted with quite such another place in the whole world. It certainly possesses natural and artificial advantages over most of the cities known in the Atlantic States or Europe. In front there is an extensive water privilege, embracing the various ramifications of Puget's Sound. Admiralty Inlet forms an outlet for the exports of the country, and Hood's Canal is an excellent place for hoodwinking the revenue officers. On the rear, extending to Dunganess Point, is a jungle of pine and matted brush, through which neither man nor beast can penetrate without considerable effort. This will always be a secure place of retreat in case of an invasion from a war-canoe manned by Northern Indians. With regard to the town itself, it is singularly picturesque and diversified. The prevailing style of architecture is a mixed order of the Gothic, Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian. The houses, of which there must be at least twenty in the city and suburbs, are built chiefly of pine boards, thatched with shingles, canvas, and wooden slabs. The palace and out-buildings of the Duke of York are built of drift-wood from the saw-mills of Port Ludlow, and are eligibly located near the wharf, so as to be convenient to the clams and oysters, and afford his maids of honor an opportunity of indulging in frequent ablutions. There is somewhat of an ancient and fish-like odor about the premises of his highness, and it must be admitted that his chimneys smoke horribly, but still the artistic effect is very fine at a distance. The streets of Port Townsend are paved with sand, and the public squares are curiously ornamented with dead horses and the bones of many dead cows, upon the beef of which the inhabitants have partially subsisted since the foundation of the city. This, of course, gives a very original appearance to the public pleasure-grounds, and enables strangers to know when they arrive in the city, by reason of the peculiar odor, so that, even admitting the absence of lamps, no person can fail to recognize Port Townsend in the darkest night. When it was a port of entry under the laws of the United States, there was a collector of customs stationed in a small shanty on the principal wharf, whose business it was to look out for smugglers, and pay the salary of an inspector who owns some sheep on San Juan Island, and holds joint possession of that disputed territory with the British government. The collector of customs, being unable to attend to the many important duties that devolved upon him without assistance, was allowed two boatmen, whose duty it was to put him on board of suspicious vessels in the offing, and one of whom, by virtue of a special commission, was ex-officio deputy collector, and made up the accounts of the district.
The principal luxuries afforded by the market of this delightful sea-port are clams, and the carcasses of dead whales that drift ashore, by reason of eating which the inhabitants have clammy skins, and are given to much spouting at public meetings. The prevailing languages spoken are the Clallam, Chenook, and Skookum-Chuck, or Strong Water, with a mixture of broken English; and all the public notices are written on shingles with burnt sticks, and nailed up over the door of the town-hall. A newspaper, issued here once every six months, is printed by means of wooden types whittled out of pine knots by the Indians, and rubbed against the bottom of the editor's potato pot. The cast-off shirts of the inhabitants answer for paper. For the preservation of public morals, a jail has been constructed out of logs that drifted ashore in times past, in which noted criminals are put for safe keeping. The first and last prisoners ever incarcerated in that institution were eleven Northern Indians, who were suspected of the murder of Colonel Ehy at Whidbey's Island. As the logs are laid upon sand to make the foundation secure, the Indians, while rooting for clams one night, happened to come up at the outside of the jail, and finding the watchman, who had been placed there by the citizens, fast asleep, with an empty whisky bottle in the distance, they stole his blanket, hat, boots, and pipe, and bade an affectionate farewell to Port Townsend.
The municipal affairs of the city are managed by a mayor and six councilmen, who are elected to office in a very peculiar manner. On the day of election, notice having been previously given on the town shingles, all the candidates for corporate honors go up on the top of the hill back of the water-front, and play at pitch-penny and quoits till a certain number are declared eligible; after which all the eligible candidates are required to climb a greased pole in the centre of the main public square. The two best then become eligible for the mayoralty, and the twelve next best for the common council. These fourteen candidates then get on the roof of the town-hall and begin to yell like Indians. Whoever can yell the loudest is declared mayor, and the six next loudest become the members of the common council for the ensuing year.
While I had the misfortune to be in public employ (and for no disreputable act that I can now remember), it became my duty to inquire into the condition of the Indians on Puget's Sound. In the course of my tour I visited this unique city for the purpose of having a "wa-wa" with the Duke of York, chief of the Clallam tribe.
The principal articles of commerce, I soon discovered, were whisky, cotton handkerchiefs, tobacco, and cigars, and the principal shops were devoted to billiards and the sale of grog. I was introduced by the Indian Agent to the Duke, who inhabited that region, and still disputed the possession of the place with the white settlers. If the settlers paid him any thing for the land upon which they built their shanties it must have been in whisky, for the Duke was lying drunk in his wigwam at the time of my visit. For the sake of morals, I regret to say that he had two wives, ambitiously named "Queen Victoria" and "Jenny Lind;" and for the good repute of Indian ladies of rank, it grieves me to add that the Queen and Jenny were also very tipsy, if not quite drunk, when I called to pay my respects.
The Duke was lying on a rough wooden bedstead, with a bullock's hide stretched over it, enjoying his ease with the ladies of his household. When the agent informed him that a Hyas Tyee, or Big Chief, had called to see him with a message from the Great Chief of all the Indians, the Duke grunted significantly, as much as to say "that's all right." The Queen, who sat near him in the bed, gave him a few whacks to rouse him up, and by the aid of Jenny Lind succeeded, after a while, in getting him in an upright position. His costume consisted of a red shirt and nothing else, but neither of the royal ladies seemed at all put out by the scantiness of his wardrobe. There was something very amiable and jolly in the face of the old Duke, even stupefied as he was by whisky. He shook me by the hand in a friendly manner, and, patting his stomach, remarked, "Duke York belly good man!"