An opportunity for doing this soon occurred. Paquette, the interpreter, who was likewise an agent of the American Fur Company, had occasion to send a boat load of furs to Green Bay, on their way to Mackinac. Mr. Kinzie having seen it as comfortably fitted up as an open boat of that description could be, with a tent-cloth fastened on a framework of hoop-poles over the centre, and lined with a dark-green blanket; and having placed on board an abundant store of provisions and other comforts, he committed us to the joint care of my brother Arthur and his faithful blacksmith, Mâtâ.
This latter was a tall, gaunt Frenchman, with a freckled face, a profusion of crisp, sandy hair, and an inveterate propensity to speak English. His knowledge of the language was somewhat limited, and he burlesqued it by adding an s to almost every word, and giving out each phrase with a jerk.
“Davids,” he was wont to say to the little yellow fiddler, after an evening’s frolic at the Interpreter’s, “Davids, clear away the tables and the glasses, and play fishes hornspikes.”[BA] But he was a kind, affectionate creature, and his devotion to “Monsieur Johns” and “Madame Johns” knew no bounds.
[BA] Fisher’s hornpipe.
Besides these two protectors, three trusty Indians, the chief of whom was called Old Smoker, were engaged to escort our party. The crew of the boat consisted entirely of French engagés in the service of the Fur Company. They were six gay-hearted, merry fellows, lightening their labor with their pipe and their songs, in which they always esteemed it a great compliment to be joined by any gentleman or lady who listened to them—but our hearts, alas! were now too heavy to participate in their enjoyment.
The Fourth of July, the day on which we left our home, was a gloomy one indeed to those who departed, and to the one left behind. Who knew if we should ever meet again? The experience which some of the circle had had in Indian warfare, was such as to justify the saddest forebodings. There was not even the consolation of a certainty that this step would secure our safety. The Sauks might, possibly, be on the other side of us, and the route we were taking might, perhaps, though not probably, carry us into their very midst. It was no wonder then that our leave-taking was a solemn one—a parting which all felt might be for this world.
Not all, however, for the gay, cheerful Frenchmen laughed and sung and cracked their jokes, and “assured Monsieur John that they would take Madame Jolm and Madame Alum safe to ‘the bay,’ spite of Sauks or wind or weather.”
Thus we sat out on our journey. For many miles the fort was in sight, as the course of the river alternately approached and receded from its walls, and it was not until nearly mid-day that we caught the last glimpse of our home.
At the noon-tide meal, or "pipe,"[[104]] as it is called by the voyageurs, an alarming discovery was made—no bread had been put on board for the crew! How this oversight had occurred, no one could tell. One was certain that a large quantity had been brought from the garrison bakery for their use that very morning—another had even seen the sacks of loaves standing in Paquette’s kitchen. Be that as it may, here we were, many miles on our journey, and with no provisions for the six Frenchmen, except some salted pork, a few beans, and some onions. A consultation was held in this emergency. Should they return to the Portage for supplies? The same danger that made their departure necessary, still existed, and the utmost dispatch had been enjoined upon them. We found upon examination that the store of bread and crackers with which our party had been provided, was far beyond what we could possibly require, and we thought it would be sufficient to allow of rations to the Frenchmen until we should reach Powell’s, at the Butte des Morts, the day but one following, where we should undoubtedly be able to procure a fresh supply.
This decided on, we proceeded on our journey, always in profound silence, for a song or a loud laugh was now strictly prohibited until we should have passed the utmost limits of country where the enemy might possibly be. We had been warned beforehand that a certain point, where the low marshy meadows, through which the river had hitherto run, rises into a more firm and elevated country, was the border of the Menomonee territory, and the spot where the Sauks, if they had fled north of the Wisconsin towards the Chippewa country, would be most likely to be encountered.