Page:McLoughlin and Old Oregon.djvu/90



IX

THE BANQUET

1839

A YANKEE would have said Thanksgiving was at hand had he peeped into the spacious kitchen of the fort when the express came. The fort dininghall was a noble apartment, capable of seating five hundred guests. A huge map of the Indian country covered the wall. The dinner-bell rang, and the long tables began to fill. With a wave of the hand the stately governor seated his guests according to rank. Before them cut-glass, and silver with the McLoughlin coat of arms, shone side by side with modern queen's-ware and rare old china. Dr. McLoughlin presided like a picture out of the old colonial time, clean-shaven, fair and rosy, with his white locks twisted into a queue at the back. At his right sat his faithful aid, who in the governor's absence had added new lustre to the name of Douglas. Then came Rae and Dr. Barclay, and factors from other forts, the jolly ship's captain and mate, trappers and traders, clerks and sailors. The heavy doors clanged and the plank floor rang. The fire-logs flickered in the dark old chimney, and the branching candelabra sent out an odor of perfumed wax. There was a clatter of cutlery. In peaked cap and ample apron Burris marshalled his copper-colored, curly-haired Kanakas with trenchers of venison and tureens of brown gravies. And sauces? No one ever yet surpassed Burris in sauces for the Chinook salmon. These Hudson's Bay gentlemen were a rub