Growth of a Century : as illustrated in the history of Jefferson County, New York, from 1793 to 1894, Part 76

Author: Haddock, John A. 1823-
Publication date: 1894
Publisher: Philadelphia, Pa. : Sherman
Number of Pages: 1094

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vitally important. LaMountain scrutinized the shore very closely, and said he thought it was smoke, and that he believed there was also a birch canoe on the shore below. In a few moments the blue smoke rolled unmis- takably above the tree tops, and we felt that

WE WERE SAVED !

Such a revulsion of feeling was almost too much. We could hardly credit our good fortune, for our many bitter disappointments had taught us not to be very sanguine. With the ends of our poles we paddled the raft across the arm of the lake, here perhaps three-quarters of a mile wide, steering for the canoe. It proved to be a large one, evidently an Indian's. Leaving LaMountain to guard and retain the canoe, in case the Indian proved timid and desired to escape from us, I pressed hurriedly up the bank, following the footprints I saw in the damp soil, and soon came upon the temporary shanty of a lumber- ing wood, from the rude chimney of which a broad volume of smoke was rising. I hal- loed-a noise was heard inside, and a noble- looking Indian came to the door. I eagerly asked him if he could speak French, as I grasped his outstretched hand. "Yes," he replied, "and English, too!" He drew me into the cabin, and there I saw the leader of the party, a noble-hearted Scotchman named Angus Cameron. I immediately told my story; that we had come in there with a bal- loon, were lost, and had been over four days without food-eagerly demanding to know where we were. Imagine my surprise when he said we were ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY MILES DUE NORTH OF OTTAWA, near 300 miles from Watertown, to reach which would require more than 500 miles of travel, following the streams and roads. We were in a wilderness as large as three States like New York, extending from Lake Superior on the west, to the St. Lawrence on the east, and from Ottawa, on the south, to the Arctic circle.

The party consisted of four persons- Cameron and his assistant, and a half-breed Indian (LaMab McDougal) and his son. Their savory dinner was ready. I immedi- ately dispatched the young Indian for La- Mountain, who soon came in, the absolute picture of wretchedness. All that the cabin contained was freely offered us, and we BEGAN TO EAT. Language is inadequate to express our feelings. Within one little hour the clouds had lifted from our sombre future, and we felt ourselves to be men once more-no longer houseless wanderers amid primeval forests, driven by chance from side to side, but inspired by the near certainty of seeing home again and mingling with our fellows once more in the busy scenes of life.

We soon learned from Cameron that the stream we had traversed with our raft was called Filliman's creek-the large lake we were then near was called the Bos-ke-tong, and drains into the Bos-ke-tong river, which in turn drains into the Gatineau. The Gatineau

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THE GREAT BALLOON VOYAGE.

joins the Ottawa opposite the city of that name, the seat of government of Canada. Cameron assured us that the Bos ke-tong and Gatineau were so rapid and broken that no set of men could get a raft down, no matter how well they knew the country, nor how much provisions they might have. He re- garded our deliverance as purely providential, and many times remarked that we would cer- tainly have perished but for seeing the smoke from his fire He was hunting timber for his employers, Gilmour & Co., of Ottawa, and was to start in two days down the Gati- neau for his headquarters at Desert. If we would stay there until he started we were welcome, he said, to food and accommoda- tions, and he would take us down to Desert in his canoe, and at that point we could get Indians to take us farther on He also said that he had intended to look for timber on Filliman's creek, near where the balloon would be found, as near as we could describe the locality to him, and would try to look it up and make the attempt to get it to Ottawa. This would be a long and tedious operation, as the portages are very numerous between the creek and Desert-something over 20-one of them three miles long. Over these port- ages, of coure, the silk must be carried on the backs of Indians.

After eating all I dared to, and duly cautioning LaMountain not to hurt himself by over-indulgence, I laid down to sleep. Before doing so, I had one of the men remove my boots, and when they came off, nearly the whole outer skin peeled off with the stockings. My feet had become parboiled by the continuel soakings of four days and nights, and it was fully three months before they were cured.

After finishing up his business in the vicinity where we found him, on Friday morning (our ninth day from home), Cameron started on his return. We stopped, on our way up the creek, at the spot where we had erected our landmark by which to find the balloon. We struck back for the place, and in about 20 minutes found her, impaled on the tops of four smallish spruce trees, and very much torn. LaMountain concluded to abandon her. He took the valve as a me- mento, and I cut out the letters "TIC," which had formed part of her name, and brought the strip of silk home with me. We reached what is known as the " New Farm " on Friday night, and there ended our sleeping on the ground. Up by early dawn, and on again, through the drenching rain, reaching Desert on Saturday evening.

At Desert we were a good deal troubled to obtain Indians to take us further on. La- Mab McDougal had told his wife about the balloon, and she, being superstitous and igno- rant, had gossipped with the other squaws, and told them the balloon was a "flying devil." As we had travelled in this flying devil, it did not require much of a stretch of Indian credulity to believe that if we were not the Devil's children, we must at least be closely related. In this extremity we appealed

to Mr. Backus*, a kind-hearted American trader, who agreed to procure us a comple- ment of redskins, who would take us to Alexis le Beau's place, (60 miles down the river), where it was thought we could obtain horses. Sunday morning (our eleventh day from home), we started from Desert, and reached Alexis le Beau's just at night. The

scenery upon this part of the route was sub- lime and imposing. The primeval forest stood as grand and silent as when created. Our Indians, too, surpassed anything I ever beheld, in physical vigor and endurance. In the day's run of 60 miles, there were sixteen portages to be made. On reaching one of these places, they would seize the canoe as quick as we stepped out of it, jerk it out of the water and on to their shoulders in half a minute, and start upon a dog trot as uncon- cernedly as though bearing no burthen. Ar- riving at the foot of the portage, they would toss the canoe into the stream, steady it until we were seated, then spring in and paddle away, gliding down the stream like an arrow. In the morning we travelled 15 miles and made seven portages in 1 hour and 40 minutes.

At Alexis le Beau we first heheld a vehicle denominated a "buckboard "-a wide, thick plank reaching from one bolster of the wagon to the other, and upon the middle of which plank the seat was placed. This sort of conveyance is often used in new countries, being very cheap, and within the reach of ordinary mechanical skill. Starting off as soon as we could get something to eat, we travelled all night through the forest, over one of the worst roads ever left unfinished, and reached Brooks' farm, a sort of frontier tavern, in the early morning, where we slept a couple of hours, and after breakfast pressed on by the rough frontier stage towards Ottawa.

While the stage was stopping to-day to change horses, I picked up a newspaper at Her Britannic Majesty's colonial frontier post-office, and in it read an account of our ascension and positive loss, with a rather flat- tering obituary notice of myself. And then, for the first time, I began to comprehend the degree of concern our protracted absence had aroused in the public mind. And if the pub- lic felt this concern, what would be the de- gree of pain experienced by wife, children,

*Something quite curious grew out of my naming Mr. Henry Backus as having assisted us at the mouth of the Desert river. My account was generally pub- lished throughout the country, and some ten days after our return I received a letter from a lady in Massachusetts asking me to describe to her the man Backus, as that was the name of her long-absent son, who, twenty years before, had disappeared from home, and had never afterwards been heard from. I answered the letter immediately, and soon after learned that the man proved to be her son, and that he had promised to come home. What had driven him away from civilization to live among the In- dians, was best known to himself. But a man of his generous impulses might have been an ornament to society, and a blessing to his friends. [This note was written the next week after we escaped from the wilderness. The article following this treats of Backus' experience quite exhaustively.]

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THE GROWTH OF A CENTURY.

parents, friends? These reflections spurred us forward-or rather, our money induced the drivers to hurry up their horses-and at last, on the 12th day of our absence, at about 5 o'clock in the afternoon, we jumped off the stage in front of the telegraph office in the good city of Ottawa, whence, in less than five minutes, the swift lightning was speeding a message to home and friends. That was a happy moment-the happiest of all my life- when I knew that within 30 minutes my family would know of my safety.

I do not know how the people of Ottawa so soon found out who we were-but suppose the telegraph operator perhaps told some one; and that "some one" must have told the whole town, for in less than half an hour there was a tearing, excited, happy, inquisi- tive mass of people in front of the grand hotel there-the clerk of which, when he looked at our ragged clothes and bearded faces, at first thought he "hadn't a single room left," but who, when he found out that we were the lost balloon men. wanted us to have the whole hotel, free and above board; and had tea and supper and lunch, and "just a little private supper, you know ! " following each other in rapid, yet most acceptable suc- cession. The happy crowd in the hotel and upon the street were determined to shake hands with us every one, and nearly all wanted to give or loan us money. Pretty soon the newspaper men and some personal acquaintances began to press through the crowd, and some cried while others laughed and huzzahed. Indeed, every one acted as if they had just "found something!" And such is human nature always, when its noble sympathies are aroused for the suffering or distressed.

Although the president of the Ottawa and Prescott Railroad (Robert Bell, Esq.), volun- teered to send us on by a special engine that night, we thought it best (inasmuch as our friends had been informed of our safety), to stay at Ottawa until morning. It did seem as though the generous people of that city could not do enough for us, and their kind attention and disinterested enthusiasm will never be forgotten.

Well, the next morning we left Ottawa, and were quickly carried to Prescott; thence across the St. Lawrence river to Ogdensburg. Here a repetition of the same friendly greet- ings took place; and at last, after a hearty dinner, we left for home, now distant only 75 miles by rail. All along the line of the road we found enthusiastic crowds awaiting our coming, and all seemed to exhibit unmis- takeable evidence of the deep interest felt in our fate. At Watertown, which had been my home from boyhood, the enthusiasm had reached fever heat, and the whole town was out to greet the returning æronauts. They had out the old cannon on the Public Square, and it belched forth the loudest kind of a welcome. My family had, of course, suffered deeply by my absence. Everybody had given us up for dead, except my wife. I felt very cheap about the whole thing, and was

quite certain that I had done a very foolish act. Not so the people-they thought it a big thing to have gone through with so much, and yet come out alive.

Several general conclusions and remarks shall terminate this narrative, already too long. "Why did you permit yourselves to go so far ?" will naturally be asked. To this inquiry I reply: that the wind was exceed- ingly light when we ascended; that we were very soon among the clouds, and consequently unable to take cognizance of our course, or to judge how fast we were travelling. It should be distinctly understood that when you are sailing in a balloon, you are uncon- scious of motion and progress, unless you can see the earth. Even when you first leave the earth, you seem to be stationary, while the earth appears to drop away from you. Nor can you, when out of sight of the earth, although you may have a compass, judge of the direction you are travelling, if travelling at all. In a few words, unless you can see the earth, you cannot tell how fast nor in what direction you are travelling. This, perhaps, better than anything else, will explain why we unconsciously drifted off to latitudes so remote. When we arose above the thick mass of clouds, before sundown, we undoubt- edly struck a rapid current that carried us north-east, and after we had travelled in this current about an hour, we probably struck another current, from the variation of our altitude, which bore us off to the north-west, for the place where we landed is about 30 miles west of due north from where we ascended.

When we first descended near the earth, and saw lights and heard dogs barking, we should have landed. But we were unwilling to land at night in a deep wood, even though we knew that inhabitants were near by, and we thought it best to pick out a better place. This was our error; and it came near being a fatal one to us-it was certainly so to the balloon. In trying to find our " better place" to land, we were up longer than we supposed, and as we were travelling in a current that bore us off to the northward at the rate of 100 miles an hour, we soon reached a point beyond the confines of civilization. J. A. H.

THE writer was one of the original sub- scribers who paid hard cash to establish a line of telegraph with Rome. Since that eventful epoch in the history of Watertown, there have been many improvements in all directions. The telegraphic system is now represented by two offices in Watertown, which city has nearly 20,000 inhabitants-but if you desire to send a message at night or before 8 o'clock in the morning, you cannot be accommodated. To people who have lived in large towns, this seems an unneces- sary hardship, and under such arrangements the people realize that the telegraph is an in- stitution for private gain, not for public ser- vice-and it furnishes the best possible argu- ment for government ownership and control.

357

THE AWAKENING OF HENRY BACKUS.

A ROMANCE OF THE BALLOON JOURNEY OF HADDOCK AND LAMOUNTAIN.

IN the preceding account of the balloon voyage made by LaMountain and Haddock into the Bos-ke-tong wilderness of Canada in September, 1859, allusion was made by the writer to one Henry Backus. The early his- tory of this man and the peculiar manner in which he was restored to civilized society and to his mother, from whom he had foolishly separated himself 20 years before, forms a story which would be called a "romance " were it not founded upon actual facts.

La Mountain and myself made our balloon ascension from Watertown, N. Y., and were carried by a swift northerly current far be- yond the bounds of civilization, landing in that immense forest in Canada, which is larger than the great States of New York. Pennsylvania and Ohio combined, and limited on the north only by Labrador and the Arctic circle. Having been rescued from starvation and probable death by the brave Cameron and his Indian guides, whom we providenti- ally encountered, we had reached, on our way " out of the wilderness," that frontier post of the Hudson Bay Company, known as Desert, where we were detained by inability to pro- cure Indians for the further prosecution of our journey, because one of Cameron's In- dians, who lived at Desert had circulated a story among his associates that we had come into that wilderness in a "flying devil," which had fallen from the sky. Naturally superstitious and densely ignorant, these boatmen readily concluded that we were really children of the devil himself, and un- desirable people to work for, even if well paid. We were very impatient at the deten- tion, and Cameron, who could take us no farther towards Ottawa, advised us to consult one Henry Backus, the local trader, who might be able to help us, for he sold " fire- water" to the Indians and had great influence with them. To Backus' little store, then, we went, and found him somewhat hard to ap- proach, as if he were suspicious of any attempt at intimacy; but when we told him our trouble and urgently solicited his good offices, he appeared anxious and willing to aid us. He struck me as being too intelligent and well educated for the position he was filling, as a small trader in so remote a place, but we were too much concerned with our own plans for reaching civilization to scruti- nize him very closely. He knew just how to deal with the ignorant river men, and soon had a crew selected who promised to depart with us at early daybreak, so that we might reach Alexis-le-Beau before nightfall. The promise was redeemed, and in the morning we departed, and Backus saw us no more, but from one of us he was yet to hear.

Who was Henry Backus? To answer this inquiry I must take the reader back more than 50 years, to 1837, when there lived in

Western Massachusetts a family named Han- cock, consisting of the parents and two daughters, 16 and 18 years of age, the elder named Mabel, the younger Harriet. It is with Mabel we have more particularly to deal. She was above the average in beauty of person, bright and engaging, and, like most of her sex, well aware of her good points, and not by any means unmindful of the admiration she elicited from the young men of her neighborhood. As a result, she was often invited to the merry-makings of that section, accompanied sometimes by one, sometimes by another young gentleman-but for a long time she gave none of her admirers any special preference. In her 20th year, when the heart is said to be the most suscep- tible, she had two admirers who had distanced her hitherto numerous gallants, and whenever she went to church or to the country parties, one or the other of these was always her at- tendant. Henry Backus, one of these young men, was rather a silent and reserved, but really handsome young man of 22, well-edu- cated in the country schools, active and enter- prising, the comfort of his mother, who was a widow and the owner of a good farm, left her by her husband. Henry was somewhat in appearance like an Indian, tall and dark- skinned, and there was a tradition that the Backus family, a hundred years before, had been crossed by Narraganset blood.

Be that as it may, Henry was observant but silent, seldom gay and never frivolous, but he was popular among his companions, who gave him their full confidence, for they knew he meant all he said, and that his word was as good as most other men's bond. His competitor in Mabel's good graces was equally regarded, but in a different way. Witty, agreeable, full of vivacity and animal spirits, James Atwell was the life of every social gathering, greatly admired by the girls, and welcome in every circle. Although a year older than Henry Backus, he had not yet settled down to any serious pursuit, which, in his case, was thought to be a neces- sity, as his father had never accumulated more than a mere subsistence. James had twice left home, and had spent a whole year in a dry goods store at Worcester, Mass., but he had given up that business as too confin- ing. He had also taught the district school one winter, but was thought deficient in dis- cipline, and was not asked to teach a second time. While nothing could be said against him, the older people rated him much below Backus in prospective usefulness and posi- tion. The girls considered him as "just too nice for anything," but thought, and some of them said, that Henry Backus was "an old cross-patch." They unanimously predicted that James Atwell would have a "walk-over" in the contest for supremacy in Mabel's affec- tions. But this prediction did not have any

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THE GROWTH OF A CENTURY.

speedy fulfilment, as both the young men were equally well received at the Hancock mansion, and so a whole year wore away without any material change in the relation of these young people to one another, but close observers saw that Backus was wonder- fully smitten with Mabel, a fact which he did not try to conceal. . Yet it gave his mother considerable concern, for she well knew the intensity of his nature, and how restless he became under even slight disappointments.

A change, however, was soon to come. While returning from a dancing party in the winter of 1838, Henry proposed, and was at least partially accepted by Mabel as her future husband. At her request the partial agreement was to be kept a secret, much against Henry's wish, but he loved the girl too much to deny her anything. While this understanding was being faithfully observed between them, invitations came for the grand winter wind-up dancing party, to be held at the county town, and Henry was duly accept- ed as Mabel's escort thither. When the even- ing of the party drew on, he started in his sleigh for his companion, but the snow was deep, and in trying to turn out for a loaded team his cutter was upset, himself thrown out, and the horse ran away. It took fully two hours to recover the horse and reach the Hancock mansion, and then only to find that Mabel had become tired of the delay, and, in a moment of pique, had accepted James Atwell's proffered escort, and gone to the dance with him. Backus was thunderstruck, and finally burst into a passion of tears, due as much, probably, to the excitement he had just passed through, as to the unexpected departure of Mabel with his rival. His jealousy was terribly aroused, and he at once reached the conclusion that his delay had been gladly taken advantage of by her in order to accept the company of one whom she loved more than himself. He did not go to the dance, nor would he make much re- ply to Mrs. Hancock's trembling efforts to put Mabel's action in a favorable light, but went straight home and made such ex- planations as he could to his tearful mother. Talk as she might, she could not move him from a sullen fit of depression, which the night did not wear away, and in the morning he harnessed his horse and drove away, with a determination to have a final understanding with Mabel. He demanded that their betroth- ment should be made public, and be sanction- ed by her parents. That young lady bore herself during the interview with consider- able independence, declaring herself as satis- fied with what she had done, and captiously declined to ask her parents to ratify their en- gagement, which she declarcd was not con- sidered as final, but rather as a matter subject to further contingencies, in all of which she developed a feminine spirit of contention so characteristic of that sex. After much talk and expostulation they parted in anger, utterly estranged-she most likely believing that it would result in a lover's reconciliation, and never dreaming that she would not soon

see Henry Backus again. But with him the

case was closed. He felt that he had loved and lost, and that, in the cyes of his acquaint- ances, he had been made a fool of by a heart- less woman. His fine sleigh was not used again that winter. The social parties missed him, and as the trouble between the lovers gradually came out (but though never a word from him), the country people took two sides in discussing the matter, nearly all the women upholding Henry; and the men, more gallant, taking the part of Mabel. But she, too, went no more abroad, refusing even to see James Atwell, though he both called and wrote. Doubtless, like many another, she felt a secret . desire to repossess what she had recklessly thrown away, and felt too proud to make any effort towards a reconciliation.

Try as he would, young Backus failed to take his former interest in life. His mother's tearful face would at times force him to active cxertion on their farm, but it was plain to be seen that his spirit was broken, and that a sullen despondency had taken possession of his mind. Having struggled along through the summer's work and the harvesting, he besought his mother to let him hire a steady young man to do the farm work, and then be allowed to go away for a while. His mother, thinking a change of scene would help her son, reluctantly gave her consent, and late in November, Henry left his home to become a wanderer. But travel as long and as far as he could, he found it impossible to get rid of himself. His burden would not be cast off .. For a month he remained at Albany, and then went north to Watertown, Prescott and Ogdensburg, N. Y., and finally to Ottawa, in Canada. The Indian strain of blood, which it was said he had inherited, began definitely to assert itself, more vigorously, perhaps, at the sight of the adjacent forests, and he re- solved to leave civilization behind him and forget that busy world where he had been so sadly deceived, and with which he now had so little affiliation.

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Growth of a Century : as illustrated in the history of Jefferson County, New York, from 1793 to 1894, Part 76

Author: Haddock, John A. 1823- Publication date: 1894 Publisher: Philadelphia, Pa. : Sherman Number of Pages: 1094

Author: Haddock, John A. 1823-
Publication date: 1894
Publisher: Philadelphia, Pa. : Sherman
Number of Pages: 1094