By Mark Henderson, edited by Rachel Preston Prinz
The demise of Baptiste Tabeau. The
Frémont (1845:268-269) account is the only detailed description of the nature
of the trail in the Virgin River between Halfway Wash and Beaver Dam from the
period of significance:
For
several days we continued our journey up the river, the bottoms of which were
thickly overgrown with various kinds of brush; and the sandy soil was
absolutely covered with the tracks of Diggers, who followed us stealthily, like
a band of wolves; and we had no opportunity to leave behind, even for a few
hours, the tired animals, in order that they might be brought into camp after a
little repose. A horse or mule left
behind, was taken off in a moment. On
the evening of the 8th [May 1844], having travelled 28 miles up the
river from our first encampment on it [on east bank across from mouth of
Halfway Wash], we encamped at a little grass-plat, where a spring of cool water
issued from the bluff [site of current Littlefield?]. On the opposite side was a grove of
cottonwoods at the mouth of a fork, which here enters the river. On either side the valley is bounded by
ranges of mountains, everywhere high, rocky, and broken. The caravan road was lost and scattered in
the sandy country, and we had been following an Indian trail up the river. The hunters the next day [May 9, 1844] were
sent out to reconnoiter, and in the mean time we moved about a mile farther up,
where we found a good little patch of grass.
There being only sufficient grass for the night, the horses were sent
with a strong guard in charge of Tabeau to a neighboring hollow, where they
might pasture during the day; and to be ready in case the Indians should make
any attempt on the animals, several of the best horses were picketed at the
camp. In a few hours the hunters
returned, having found a convenient ford in the river, and discovered the
Spanish trail on the other side.
I
had been engaged in arranging plants; and, fatigued with the heat of the day, I
fell asleep in the afternoon, and did not awake until sundown. Presently Carson came to me, and reported
that Tabeau, who early in the day had left his post, and, without my knowledge,
rode back to the camp we had left, in search of a lame mule, had not returned. While we were speaking, a smoke rose suddenly
from the cottonwood grove below, which plainly told us what had befallen him;
it was raised to inform the surrounding Indians that a blow had been struck,
and to tell them to be on their guard. Carson, with several men
well mounted, was instantly sent down the river, but returned in the night
without tidings of the missing man. They
went to the camp we had left, but neither he nor the mule was there. Searching down the river, they found the
tracks of the mule, evidently driven along by Indians, whose tracks were on
each side of those made by the animal.
After going several miles, they came to the mule itself, standing in
some bushes, mortally wounded in the side by an arrow, and left to die, that it
might be afterwards butchered for food. They
also found, in another place, as they were hunting about on the ground for
Tabeau’s tracks, something that looked like a puddle of blood, but which the
darkness prevented from verifying. With
these details they returned to our camp, and their report saddened all our
hearts.
May
10. – This morning, as soon as there was light enough to follow tracks, I set
out myself with Mr. Fitzpatrick and several men in search of Tabeau. We went to the spot where the appearance of
puddle blood had been seen; and this, we saw at once, had been the place where
he fell and died. Blood upon the leaves,
and beaten down bushes, showed that he had got his wound about twenty paces
from where he fell, and that he had struggled for his life. He had probably been shot through the lungs
with an arrow. From the place where he
lay and bled, it could be seen that he had been dragged to the river bank, and
thrown into it. No vestige of what hadf
belonged to him could be found, except a fragment of his horse equipment. Horse, gun, clothes – all became the prey of
these Arabs of the New World.
Tabeau
had been one of our best men, and his unhappy death spread a gloom over our
party. Men, who have gone through such
dangers and sufferings as we had seen, become like brothers, and feel each
other’s loss. To defend and avenge each
other, is the deep feeling of all. We
wished to avenge his death; but the condition of our horses, languishing for
grass and repose, forbade an expedition into unknown mountains. We knew the tribe who had done the mischief –
the same which had been insulting our camp.
They knew what they deserved, and had the discretion to show themselves
to us no more. The day before, they infested
our camp; now, not one appeared; nor did we ever afterwards see but one who
even belonged to the same tribe, and he at a distance.
Our
camp was in a basin below a deep canon – a gap of two thousand feet deep in the
mountain – through which the Rio Virgen
passes, and where no man nor beast could follow it. The Spanish trail, which we had lost in the
sands of the basin, was on the opposite side of the river. We crossed over to it, and followed it
northwardly towards a gap which was visible in the mountain. We approached it by a defile, rendered
difficult for our barefooted animals by the rocks strewed along it; and here
the country changed its character. From
the time we entered the desert, the mountains had been bald and rocky; here
they began to be wooded with cedar and pine, and clusters of trees gave shelter
to birds – new and welcome sight – which could not have lived in the desert we
had passed.