ight and
main to get out of the bay, but found it impossible to weather a point
of land, and were at length compelled to take shelter in a small cove,
where they hoped to remain concealed until the wind should be more
favorable. Exhausted by fatigue and watching, they fell into a sound
sleep, and in that state were surprised by the savages. Better had it
been for those unfortunate men had they remained with Lewis, and
shared his heroic death: as it was, they perished in a more painful and
protracted manner, being sacrificed by the natives to the manes of their
friends with all the lingering tortures of savage cruelty. Some time
after their death, the interpreter, who had remained a kind of prisoner
at large, effected his escape, and brought the tragical tidings to
Astoria.

Such is the melancholy story of the Tonquin, and such was the fate of
her brave but headstrong commander, and her adventurous crew. It is a
catastrophe that shows the importance, in all enterprises of moment,
to keep in mind the general instructions of the sagacious heads which
devise them. Mr. Astor was well aware of the perils to which ships
were exposed on this coast from quarrels with the natives, and from
perfidious attempts of the latter to surprise and capture them in
unguarded moments. He had repeatedly enjoined it upon Captain Thorn,
in conversation, and at parting, in his letter of instructions, to be
courteous and kind in his dealings with the savages, but by no means to
confide in their apparent friendship, nor to admit more than a few on
board of his ship at a time.

Had the deportment of Captain Thorn been properly regulated, the insult
so wounding to savage pride would never have been given. Had he enforced
the rule to admit but a few at a time, the savages would not have been
able to get the mastery. He was too irritable, however, to practice the
necessary self-command, and, having been nurtured in a proud contempt of
danger, thought it beneath him to manifest any fear of a crew of unarmed
savages.

With all his faults and foibles, we cannot but speak of him with esteem,
and deplore his untimely fate; for we remember him well in early life,
as a companion in pleasant scenes and joyous hours. When on shore, among
his friends, he was a frank, manly, sound-hearted sailor. On board
ship he evidently assumed the hardness of deportment and sternness of
demeanor which many deem essential to naval service. Throughout
the whole of the expe