The interpreter again escaped as by a miracle. He was clinging to the main chains when the explosion took place, fell into the water, and swam to one of the canoes, in which he made his way back to the land, where crowds had already assembled, and met him with eager inquiries as to the cause of the terrible scene. He was still the center of an eager group when four white men were brought as prisoners into the village, who told how they had escaped from the _Tonquin_ when Lewis, the man who had decoyed the natives on board, decided to blow up the ship. They had hoped to find their way to their comrades at Astoria, but they had been unable to get out of the bay; their boat was cast on shore, and they were soon seized by natives. They were put to death with all the refinements of cruelty in which the Indians have ever been adepts; and not, as we have seen, until the interpreter managed to pay a visit to Astoria was the whole melancholy story known. If the position of the Astorians was painful when it was supposed that the absence of the _Tonquin_ would not be long protracted, we can imagine what it became now. The savage tribes around them, encouraged by the first success of their brothers of the North, and enraged at the terrible vengeance taken upon them, were more determined than ever to root out the hated white men from their land, and it appeared likely that they would accomplish their purpose, when M’Dougal hit upon a stratagem. A few years previously, smallpox had ravaged the coast north and south of the Columbia; whole tribes had succumbed to it, and the mere mention of it was enough to cow the spirit of the most dauntless brave. None knew whence it came, but it was supposed to be sent by the Great Spirit to correct his children for their sins, and many connected it with the first coming of the white man. M’Dougal, reminded by some trifling incident of the latter superstition, invited the leaders of the conspiracy against the infant colony to come and take council with him. They obeyed, wondering, doubtless, in their simple minds whether their designs had been discovered. When all were seated, and expectant silence reigned on every side, the white man stood in the midst and began his harangue. “Your countrymen have destroyed our vessel,” he said, “and I am resolved on vengeance. The white men among you are few in number, it is true, but they are mighty in medicine. See here,” he went on, producing a small bottle; “in this bottle I hold the smallpox 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.” Great was the horror and alarm at this announcement. The chiefs, forgetting their dignity, gathered round the white man, imploring him to stay his hand; and after affecting to be unmoved for some little time, M’Dougal at last declared that, so long as the white people were unmolested, the phial of wrath should be unopened, but――――