The loss of the Tonquin was a grievous blow to the infant establishment of Astoria, and one that threatened to bring after it a train of disasters.  The intelligence of it did not reach Mr. Astor until many months afterwards.  He felt it in all its force, and was aware that it must cripple, if not entirely defeat, the great scheme of his ambition.  In his letters, written at the time, he speaks of it as “a calamity, the length of which he could not foresee.”  He indulged, however, in no weak and vain lamentation, but sought to devise a prompt and efficient remedy.  The very same evening he appeared at the theatre with his usual serenity of countenance.  A friend, who knew the disastrous intelligence he had received, expressed his astonishment that he could have calmness of spirit sufficient for such a scene of light amusement.  “What would you have me do?” was his characteristic reply; “would you have me stay at home and weep for what I cannot help?”

CHAPTER XII.

     Gloom at Astoria—­An Ingenious Stratagem.—­The Small-Pox
     Chief.—­Launching of the Dolly.-An Arrival.—­A Canadian
     Trapper.-A Freeman of the Forest—­An Iroquois Hunter.—­
     Winter on the Columbia.-Festivities of New Year.

The tidings of the loss of the Tonquin, and the massacre of her crew, struck dismay into the hearts of the Astorians.  They found themselves a mere handful of men, on a savage coast, surrounded by hostile tribes, who would doubtless be incited and encouraged to deeds of violence by the late fearful catastrophe.  In this juncture Mr. M’Dougal, we are told, had recourse to a stratagem by which to avail himself of the ignorance and credulity of the savages, and which certainly does credit to his ingenuity.

The natives of the coast, and, indeed, of all the regions west of the mountains, had an extreme dread of the small-pox; that terrific scourge having, a few years previously, appeared among them, and almost swept off entire tribes.  Its origin and nature were wrapped in mystery, and they conceived it an evil inflicted upon them by the Great Spirit, or brought among them by the white men.  The last idea was seized upon by Mr. M’Dougal.  He assembled several of the chieftains whom he believed to be in the conspiracy.  When they were all seated around, he informed them that he had heard of the treachery of some of their northern brethren towards the Tonquin, and was determined on vengeance.  “The white men among you,” said he, “are few in number, it is true, but they are mighty in medicine.  See here,” continued he, drawing forth a small bottle and holding it before their eyes, “in this bottle I hold the small-pox, safely corked up; I have but to draw the cork, and let loose the pestilence, to sweep man, woman, and child from the face of the earth.”

The chiefs were struck with horror and alarm.  They implored him not to uncork the bottle, since they and all their people were firm friends of the white men, and would always remain so; but, should the small-pox be once let out, it would run like wildfire throughout the country, sweeping off the good as well as the bad; and surely he would not be so unjust as to punish his friends for crimes committed by his enemies.