Tracks of a Rolling Stone [86]
in the stern, and the dreaded crag is far above out heads, far, far behind; and, for the moment, we are gliding on - undrowned.
At the lower end of the rapids (our Indians refusing to go further), we had to debark. A settler here was putting up a zinc house for a store. Two others, with an officer of the Mounted Rifles - the regiment we had left at the Dalles - were staying with him. They welcomed our arrival, and insisted on our drinking half a dozen of poisonous stuff they called champagne. There were no chairs or table in the 'house,' nor as yet any floor; and only the beginning of a roof. We sat on the ground, so that I was able
surreptitiously to make libations with my share, to the earth.
According to my journal: 'In a short time the party began to be a noisy one. Healths were drunk, toasts proposed, compliments to our respective nationalities paid in the most flattering terms. The Anglo-Saxon race were destined to conquer the globe. The English were the greatest nation under the sun - that is to say, they had been. America, of course, would take the lead in time to come. We disputed this. The Americans were certain of it, in fact this was already an accomplished fact. The big officer - a genuine "heavy" - wanted to know where the man was that would give him the lie! Wasn't the Mounted Rifles the crack regiment of the United States army? And wasn't the United States army the finest army in the universe? Who that knew anything of history would compare the Peninsular Campaign to the war in Mexico? Talk of Waterloo - Britishers were mighty fond of swaggering about Waterloo! Let 'em look at Chepultapec. As for Wellington, he couldn't shine nohow with General Scott, nor old Zack neither!'
Then, WE wished for a war, just to let them see what our crack cavalry regiments could do. Mounted Rifles forsooth! Mounted costermongers! whose trade it was to sell 'nutmegs made of wood, and clocks that wouldn't figure.' Then some pretty forcible profanity was vented, fists were shaken, and the zinc walls were struck, till they resounded like the threatened thunder of artillery.
But Fred's merry laughter diverted the tragic end. It was agreed that there had been too much tall talk. Britishers and Americans were not such fools as to quarrel. Let everybody drink everybody else's health. A gentleman in the corner (he needed the support of both walls) thought it wasn't good to 'liquor up' too much on an empty stomach; he put it to the house that we should have supper. The motion was carried NEM. CON., and a Dutch cheese was produced with much ECLAT. Samson coupled the ideas of Dutch cheeses and Yankee hospitality. This revived the flagging spirit of emulation. On one side, it was thought that British manners were susceptible of amendment. Confusion was then respectively drunk to Yankee hospitality, English manners, and - this was an addition of Fred's - to Dutch cheeses. After which, to change the subject, a song was called for, and a gentleman who shall be nameless, for there was a little mischief in the choice, sang 'Rule Britannia.' Not being encored, the singer drank to the flag that had braved the battle and the breeze for nearly ninety years. 'Here's to Uncle Sam, and his stars and stripes.' The mounted officer rose to his legs (with difficulty) and declared 'that he could not, and would not, hear his country insulted any longer. He begged to challenge the "crowd." He regretted the necessity, but his feelings had been wounded, and he could not - no, he positively could not stand it.' A slight push from Samson proved the fact - the speaker fell, to rise no more. The rest of the company soon followed his example, and shortly afterwards there was no sound but that of the adjacent rapids.
Early next morning the settler's boat came up, and took us a mile down the river, where we found a larger one to convey us to Fort Vancouver. The crew were a Maltese sailor and a man who had been in the United States army. Each
At the lower end of the rapids (our Indians refusing to go further), we had to debark. A settler here was putting up a zinc house for a store. Two others, with an officer of the Mounted Rifles - the regiment we had left at the Dalles - were staying with him. They welcomed our arrival, and insisted on our drinking half a dozen of poisonous stuff they called champagne. There were no chairs or table in the 'house,' nor as yet any floor; and only the beginning of a roof. We sat on the ground, so that I was able
surreptitiously to make libations with my share, to the earth.
According to my journal: 'In a short time the party began to be a noisy one. Healths were drunk, toasts proposed, compliments to our respective nationalities paid in the most flattering terms. The Anglo-Saxon race were destined to conquer the globe. The English were the greatest nation under the sun - that is to say, they had been. America, of course, would take the lead in time to come. We disputed this. The Americans were certain of it, in fact this was already an accomplished fact. The big officer - a genuine "heavy" - wanted to know where the man was that would give him the lie! Wasn't the Mounted Rifles the crack regiment of the United States army? And wasn't the United States army the finest army in the universe? Who that knew anything of history would compare the Peninsular Campaign to the war in Mexico? Talk of Waterloo - Britishers were mighty fond of swaggering about Waterloo! Let 'em look at Chepultapec. As for Wellington, he couldn't shine nohow with General Scott, nor old Zack neither!'
Then, WE wished for a war, just to let them see what our crack cavalry regiments could do. Mounted Rifles forsooth! Mounted costermongers! whose trade it was to sell 'nutmegs made of wood, and clocks that wouldn't figure.' Then some pretty forcible profanity was vented, fists were shaken, and the zinc walls were struck, till they resounded like the threatened thunder of artillery.
But Fred's merry laughter diverted the tragic end. It was agreed that there had been too much tall talk. Britishers and Americans were not such fools as to quarrel. Let everybody drink everybody else's health. A gentleman in the corner (he needed the support of both walls) thought it wasn't good to 'liquor up' too much on an empty stomach; he put it to the house that we should have supper. The motion was carried NEM. CON., and a Dutch cheese was produced with much ECLAT. Samson coupled the ideas of Dutch cheeses and Yankee hospitality. This revived the flagging spirit of emulation. On one side, it was thought that British manners were susceptible of amendment. Confusion was then respectively drunk to Yankee hospitality, English manners, and - this was an addition of Fred's - to Dutch cheeses. After which, to change the subject, a song was called for, and a gentleman who shall be nameless, for there was a little mischief in the choice, sang 'Rule Britannia.' Not being encored, the singer drank to the flag that had braved the battle and the breeze for nearly ninety years. 'Here's to Uncle Sam, and his stars and stripes.' The mounted officer rose to his legs (with difficulty) and declared 'that he could not, and would not, hear his country insulted any longer. He begged to challenge the "crowd." He regretted the necessity, but his feelings had been wounded, and he could not - no, he positively could not stand it.' A slight push from Samson proved the fact - the speaker fell, to rise no more. The rest of the company soon followed his example, and shortly afterwards there was no sound but that of the adjacent rapids.
Early next morning the settler's boat came up, and took us a mile down the river, where we found a larger one to convey us to Fort Vancouver. The crew were a Maltese sailor and a man who had been in the United States army. Each