Georgetown--Minnesota Volunteers--The Successful Hunters--An
Indian Hag--Resolve to go to Fort Garry in Canoes--Rumours
of a Sioux Outbreak--The Half-breeds refuse to Accompany us--
Prepare to Start Alone--Our Canoes and Equipment--A Sioux
War Party--The Half-breed’s Story--Down Red River--Strange
Sights and Sounds--Our First Night Out--Effects of the Sun and
Mosquitoes--Milton Disabled--Monotony of the Scenery--Leaky
Canoes--Travelling by Night--The “Oven” Camp--Hunting Geese
in Canoes--Meet the Steamer--Milton’s Narrow Escape--Treemiss
and Cheadle follow Suit--Carried Down the Rapids--Vain Attempts
to Ascend--A Hard Struggle--On Board at last--Start once
more--Delays--Try a Night Voyage Again--The “Riband Storm”--
“In Thunder, Lightning, and in Rain”--Fearful Phenomena--Our
Miserable Plight--No Escape--Steering in Utter Darkness--
Snags and Rocks--A Long Night’s Watching--No Fire--A Drying
Day--Another Terrible Storm--And Another--Camp of Disasters--
Leave it at last--Marks of the Fury of the Storms--Provisions
at an End--Fishing for Gold-eyes--A Day’s Fast--Slaughter
of Wild-Fowl--Our Voracity--A Pleasant Awakening--Caught up
by the Steamer--Pembina--Fort Garry--La Ronde--We go under
Canvass.
The little settlement of Georgetown is placed under cover of the belt
of timber which clothes the banks of the river, while to the south
and east endless prairie stretches away to the horizon. The place is
merely a trading post of the Hudson’s Bay Company, round which a few
straggling settlers have established themselves. A company of Minnesota
Volunteers was stationed here for the protection of the settlement
against the Sioux. They were principally Irish or German Yankees;
_i.e._, emigrants, out-Heroding Herod in Yankeeism, yet betraying their
origin plainly enough. These heroes, slovenly and unsoldier-like, yet
full of swagger and braggadocio now, when the Sioux advanced to the
attack on Port Abercrombie, a few weeks afterwards, took refuge under
beds, and hid in holes and corners, from whence they had to be dragged
by their officers, who drew them out to face the enemy by putting
revolvers to their heads.
On the day of our arrival two half-breeds came in from a hunting
expedition in which they had been very successful. They had found
a band of twenty elk, out of which they killed four, desisting,
according to their own account, from shooting more from a reluctance
to waste life and provision!--a piece of consideration perfectly
incomprehensible in a half-breed or Indian. We went down to their camp
by the river, where they were living in an Indian “lodge,” or tent
of skins stretched over a cone of poles. Squatted in front of it,
engaged in cutting the meat for drying, was the most hideous old hag
ever seen. Lean, dried-up, and withered, her parchment skin was seamed
and wrinkled into folds and deep furrows, her eyes were bleared and
blinking, and her long, iron-grey hair, matted and unkempt, hung over
her shoulders. She kept constantly muttering, and showing her toothless
gums, as she clawed the flesh before her with long, bony, unwashed
fingers, breaking out occasionally into wild, angry exclamations, as
she struck at the skeleton dogs which attempted to steal some of the
delicate morsels strewn around.
Finding upon inquiry that, in consequence of the lowness of the
water, it was very uncertain when the steamer would arrive, if she
ever reached Georgetown at all, we decided to make the journey to
Fort Garry in canoes. The distance is above five hundred miles by the
river, which runs through a wild and unsettled country, inhabited only
by wandering tribes of Sioux, Chippeways, and Assiniboines. After
much bargaining, we managed to obtain two birch-bark canoes from some
half-breeds. One of them was full of bullet holes, having been formerly
the property of some Assiniboines, who were waylaid by a war party of
Sioux whilst descending the river the previous summer, and mercilessly
shot down from the bank, where their enemies lay in ambush. The other
was battered and leaky, and both required a great deal of patching
and caulking before they were rendered anything like water-tight. We
endeavoured to engage a guide, half-breed or Indian, but none would
go with us. The truth was that rumours were afloat of the intended
outbreak of the Sioux, and these cowards were afraid. One man, indeed--
a tall, savage-looking Iroquois, just recovering from the effects of a
week’s debauch on corn whisky--expressed his readiness to go with us,
but his demands were so exorbitant, that we refused them at once. We
offered him one-half what he had asked, and he went off to consult his
squaw, promising to give us an answer next day.
We did not take very large supplies of provisions with us, as we
expected not to be more than eight or ten days on our voyage, and knew
that we should meet with plenty of ducks along the river. We therefore
contented ourselves with twenty pounds of flour, and the same of
pemmican, with about half as much salt pork, some grease, tinder, and
matches, a small quantity of tea, salt, and tobacco, and plenty of
ammunition. A tin kettle and frying-pan, some blankets and a waterproof
sheet, a small axe, and a gun and hunting-knife apiece, made up the
rest of our equipment.
Whilst we were completing our preparations, another half-breed came
in, in a great state of excitement, with the news that a war party
of Sioux were lurking in the neighbourhood. He had been out looking
for elk, when he suddenly observed several Indians skulking in the
brushwood; from their paint and equipment he knew them to be Sioux
on the war-path. They did not appear to have perceived him, and he
turned and fled, escaping to the settlement unpursued. We did not place
much reliance on his story, or the various reports we had heard, and
set out the next day alone. How fearfully true these rumours of the
hostility of the Sioux, which we treated so lightly at the time, turned
out to be, is already known to the reader. As we got ready to start,
the Iroquois sat on the bank, smoking sullenly, and showing neither
by word nor sign any intention of accepting our offer of the previous
day. Milton and Rover occupied the smaller canoe, while Treemiss and
Cheadle navigated the larger one. At first we experienced some little
difficulty in steering, and were rather awkward in the management of a
paddle. A birch-bark canoe sits so lightly on the water, that a puff
of wind drives it about like a walnut-shell; and with the wind dead
ahead, paddling is very slow and laborious. But we got on famously
after a short time, Milton being an old hand at the work, and the
others accustomed to light and crank craft on the Isis and the Cam. We
glided along pleasantly enough, lazily paddling or floating quietly
down the sluggish stream. The day was hot and bright, and we courted
the graceful shade of the trees which overhung the bank on either side.
The stillness of the woods was broken by the dip of our paddles, the
occasional splash of a fish, or the cry of various birds. The squirrel
played and chirruped among the branches of the trees, the spotted
woodpecker tapped on the hollow trunk, while, perched high on the
topmost bough of some withered giant of the forest, the eagle and the
hawk uttered their harsh and discordant screams. Here and there along
the banks swarms of black and golden orioles clustered on the bushes,
the gaily-plumed kingfisher flitted past, ducks and geese floated on
the water, and the long-tailed American pigeon darted like an arrow
high over the tree-tops. As night approached, a hundred owls hooted
round us; the whip-poor-will startled us with its rapid, reiterated
call; and the loon--the most melancholy of birds--sent forth her
wild lamentations from some adjoining lake. Thoroughly did we enjoy
these wild scenes and sounds, and the strange sensation of freedom and
independence which possessed us.
Having shot as many ducks as we required, we put ashore at sundown, and
drawing our canoes out of the water into the bushes which fringed the
river-bank, safe from the eye of any wandering or hostile Indian, we
encamped for the night on the edge of the prairie. It became quite dark
before we had half completed our preparations, and we were dreadfully
bothered, in our raw inexperience, to find dry wood for the fire, and
do the cooking. However, we managed at last to pluck and split open the
ducks into “spread-eagles,” roasting them on sticks, Indian fashion,
and these, with some tea and “dampers,” or cakes of unleavened bread,
furnished a capital meal. We then turned into our blankets, _sub
Jove_--for we had no tent;--but the tales we had heard of prowling
Sioux produced some effect, and a half-wakeful watchfulness replaced
our usual sound slumbers.
We often recalled afterwards how one or other of us suddenly sat up
in bed and peered into the darkness at any unusual sound, or got up
to investigate the cause of the creakings and rustlings frequently
heard in the forest at night, but which might have betrayed the
stealthy approach of an Indian enemy. Mosquitoes swarmed and added to
our restlessness. In the morning we all three presented an abnormal
appearance, Milton’s arms being tremendously blistered, red, and
swollen, from paddling with them bare in the scorching sun; and
Treemiss and Cheadle exhibiting faces it was impossible to recognise,
so wofully were they changed by the swelling of mosquito bites.
Milton was quite unable to use a paddle for several days, and his canoe
was towed along by Treemiss and Cheadle. This, of course, delayed us
considerably, and the delight we had experienced during the first few
days’ journey gradually gave place to a desire for change.
Red River, flowing almost entirely through prairie land, has hollowed
out for itself a deep channel in the level plains, the sloping sides of
which are covered with timber almost to the water’s edge. The unvarying
sameness of the river, and the limited prospect shut in by rising banks
on either side, gave a monotony to our daily journey; and the routine
of cooking, chopping, loading and unloading canoes, paddling, and
shooting, amusing enough at first, began to grow rather tiresome.
The continual leaking of our rickety canoes obliged us to pull up so
frequently to empty them, and often spend hours in attempting to stop
the seams, that we made very slow progress towards completing the five
hundred miles before us. We therefore thoroughly overhauled them, and
having succeeded in making them tolerably water-tight, resolved to make
an extra stage, and travel all night. The weather was beautifully fine,
and, although there was no moon, we were able to steer well enough by
the clear starlight.
The night seemed to pass very slowly, and we nodded wearily over our
paddles before the first appearance of daylight gave us an excuse for
landing, which we did at the first practicable place. The banks were
knee-deep in mud, but we were too tired and sleepy to search further,
and carried our things to drier ground higher up, where a land-slip
from a steep cliff had formed a small level space a few yards square.
The face of the cliff was semi-circular, and its aspect due south; not
a breath of air was stirring, and as we slept with nothing to shade
us from the fiery rays of the mid-day sun, we awoke half baked. Some
ducks which we had killed the evening before were already stinking and
half putrid, and had to be thrown away as unfit for food. We found the
position unbearable, and, reluctantly re-loading our canoes, took to
the river again, and paddled languidly along until evening. This camp,
which we called “The Oven,” was by far the warmest place we ever found,
with the exception of the town of Acapulco, in Mexico, which stands in
a very similar situation.
A week after we left Georgetown our provisions fell short, for the
pemmican proved worthless, and fell to the lot of Rover, and we
supplied ourselves entirely by shooting the wild-fowl, which were
tolerably plentiful. The young geese, although almost full-grown and
feathered, were not yet able to fly, but afforded capital sport. When
hotly pursued they dived as we came near in the canoes, and, if too
hardly pushed, took to the shore. This was generally a fatal mistake;
Milton immediately landed with Rover, who quickly discovered them lying
with merely their heads hidden in the grass or bushes, and they were
then captured.
When engaged in this exciting amusement one day, Milton went ahead
down stream in chase of a wounded bird, while Treemiss and Cheadle
remained behind to look after some others which had taken to the land.
The former was paddling away merrily after his prey, when, at a sudden
turn of the river, he came upon the steamer warping up a shallow
rapid. Eager to get on board and taste the good things we had lately
lacked, he swept down the current alongside the overhanging deck of
the steamer. The stream was rough and very strong, and its force was
increased by the effect of the stern-wheel of the steamer in rapid
motion in the narrow channel. The canoe was drawn under the projecting
deck, but Milton clung tightly to it, and the friendly hands of some
of the crew seized and hauled him and his canoe safely on board. The
others following shortly afterwards, and observing the steamer in like
manner, were equally delighted, and dashed away down stream in order to
get on board as quickly as possible.
The stern-wheel was now stopped, but as they neared the side it was
suddenly put in motion again, and the canoe carried at a fearful pace
past the side of the boat, sucked in by the whirlpool of the wheel. By
the most frantic exertions, the two saved themselves from being drawn
under, but were borne down the rapid about a quarter of a mile. Rover
attempting a similar feat, was carried down after them, struggling
vainly against the powerful current. Great was the wrath of Cheadle
and Treemiss against the captain for the trick he had served them, and
they squabbled no little with each other also, as they vainly strove
to re-ascend the rapid. Three times they made the attempt, but were
as often swept back, and had to commence afresh. By paddling with all
their might they succeeded in getting within a hundred yards of the
steamer; but at this point, where the stream narrowed and shot with
double force round a sharp turn in the channel, the head of the canoe
was swept round in spite of all their efforts, and down they went again.
When they were on the eve of giving up in despair, the other canoe
appeared darting down towards them, manned by two men whose masterly
use of the paddle proclaimed them to be old voyageurs. Coming
alongside, one of them exchanged places with Cheadle, and thus, each
having a skilful assistant, by dint of hugging the bank, and warily
avoiding the strength of the current, they easily reached the critical
point for the fourth time. Here again was a fierce struggle. Swept back
repeatedly for a few yards, but returning instantly to the attack, they
at last gained the side of the steamer. The captain kindly stopped half
an hour to allow us to have a good dinner. Finding the steamer would
probably be a week before she returned, we obtained a fresh stock of
flour and salt pork, and went on our way again. Presently we found
Rover, who had got to land a long way down the stream, and took him on
board again.
After a few days’ slow and monotonous voyaging, being again frequently
obliged to stop in order to repair our leaky craft, we decided to try a
night journey once more. The night was clear and starlight, but in the
course of an hour or two ominous clouds began to roll up from the west,
and the darkness increased. We went on, however, hoping that there
would be no storm. But before long, suddenly, as it seemed to us, the
darkness became complete; then, without previous warning, a dazzling
flash of lightning lit up for a moment the wild scene around us, and
almost instantaneously a tremendous clap of thunder, an explosion like
the bursting of a magazine, caused us to stop paddling, and sit silent
and appalled. A fierce blast of wind swept over the river, snapping
great trees like twigs on every side; the rain poured down in floods,
and soaked us through and through; flash followed flash in quick
succession, with its accompanying roar of thunder; whilst at intervals
between, a dim, flickering light, faint and blue, like the flame of a
spirit lamp, or the “Will-o’-the-wisp,” hovered over the surface of the
water, but failed to light up the dense blackness of the night. With
this came an ominous hissing, like the blast of a steam pipe, varying
with the wind, now sounding near as the flame approached, now more
distant as it wandered away.
We were in the very focus of the storm; the whole air was charged with
electricity, and the changing currents of the electric fluid, or the
shifting winds, lifted and played with our hair in passing. The smell
of ozone was so pungent that it fairly made us snort again, and forced
itself on our notice amongst the other more fearful phenomena of the
storm. We made an attempt to land at once, but the darkness was so
intense that we could not see to avoid the snags and fallen timber
which beset the steep, slippery bank; and the force of the stream
bumped us against them in a manner which warned us to desist, if we
would avoid being swamped or knocking holes in the paper sides of our
frail craft. We had little chance of escape in that case, for the river
was deep, and it would be almost impossible to clamber up the slippery
face of the bank, even if we succeeded in finding it, through the utter
darkness in which we were enveloped. There was nothing else for it but
to face it out till daylight, and we therefore fastened the two canoes
together, and again gave ourselves up to the fury of the storm. We had
some difficulty in bringing the two canoes alongside, but by calling
out to one another, and by the momentary glimpses obtained during the
flashes of lightning, we at last effected it. Treemiss, crouching in
the bows, kept a sharp look-out, while we, seated in the stern, steered
by his direction. As each flash illuminated the river before us for
an instant, he was able to discern the rocks and snags ahead, and a
vigorous stroke of our paddles carried us clear during the interval of
darkness.
After a short period of blind suspense, the next flash showed us that
we had avoided one danger to discover another a few yards in front.
Hour after hour passed by, but the storm raged as furiously, and the
rain came down as fast as ever. We looked anxiously for the first gleam
of daylight, but the night seemed as if it would never come to an end.
The canoes were gradually filling with water, which had crept up nearly
to our waists, and the gunwales were barely above the surface. It
became very doubtful whether they would float till daybreak.
The night air was raw and cold, and as we sat in our involuntary
hip-bath, with the rain beating upon us, we shivered from head to foot;
our teeth chattered, and our hands became so benumbed that we could
scarcely grasp the paddles. But we dared not take a moment’s rest from
our exciting work, in watching and steering clear of the snags and
rocks, although we were almost tempted to give up, and resign ourselves
to chance.
Never will any of us forget the misery of that night, or the intense
feeling of relief we experienced when we first observed rather a
lessening of the darkness than any positive appearance of light.
Shortly before this, the storm began sensibly to abate; but the rain
poured down as fast as ever when we hastily landed in the grey morning
on a muddy bank, the first practicable place we came to. Drawing our
canoes high on shore, that they might not be swept off by the rising
flood, we wrapped ourselves in our dripping blankets, and, utterly
weary and worn out, slept long and soundly.[1]
When we awoke, the sun was already high, shining brightly, and
undimmed by a single cloud, and our blankets were already half dry.
We therefore turned out, spread our things on the bushes, and made an
attempt to light a fire. All our matches and tinder were wet, and we
wasted a long time in fruitless endeavours to get a light by firing
pieces of dried rag out of a gun. Whilst we were thus engaged, another
adventurer appeared, coming down the river in a “dug-out,” or small
canoe hollowed out of a log. We called out to him as he passed, and he
came ashore, and supplied us with some dry matches. He had camped in
a sheltered place before sundown, on the preceding evening, and made
everything secure from the rain before the storm came on. We soon had
a roaring fire, and spent the rest of the day in drying our property
and patching our canoes, which we did caulk most effectually this
time, by plastering strips of our pocket-handkerchiefs over the seams
with pine-gum. But our misfortunes were yet far from an end. We broke
the axe and the handle of the frying-pan, and were driven to cut our
fire-wood with our hunting-knives, and manipulate the cooking utensil
by means of a cleft stick.
Our expectations of having a good night’s rest were disappointed. About
two hours before daylight we were awakened by the rumbling of distant
thunder, and immediately jumped up and made everything as secure as
possible. Before very long, a storm almost as terrible as the one of
the night before burst over us. Our waterproof sheets were too small
to keep out the deluge of water which flooded the ground, and rushed
into our blankets. But we managed to keep our matches dry, and lighted
a fire when the rain ceased. Meantime, about noon, nearly everything we
had was soaked again, and we had to spend the rest of the day in drying
clothes and blankets as before.
On the third day after our arrival in this camp of disasters, just as
we were nearly ready to start, we were again visited by a terrible
thunder-storm, and once more reduced to our former wretched plight.
Again we set to work to wring out trousers, shirts, and blankets, and
clean our guns, sulkily enough, almost despairing of ever getting away
from the place where we had encountered so many troubles.
But the fourth day brought no thunder-storm, nor did we experience any
bad weather for the rest of the voyage.
We paddled joyfully away from our dismal camp, and along the river-side
saw numerous marks of the fury of the storm; great trees blown down,
or trunks snapped short off, others torn and splintered by lightning.
The storm had evidently been what is called a “riband storm,” which
had followed the course of the river pretty closely. The riband storm
passes over only a narrow line, but within these limits is exceedingly
violent and destructive.
We had by this time finished all the provisions we brought with us,
and lived for some days on ducks and fish. A large pike, of some ten
or twelve pounds, served us for a couple of days, and we occasionally
caught a quantity of gold-eyes, a fish resembling the dace. Having
unfortunately broken our last hook, we caught them by the contrivance
of two needles fastened together by passing the line through the eyes,
and threading them head first through the bait. One night found us
with nothing but a couple of gold-eyes for supper, and we were roused
very early next morning by the gnawing of our stomachs. We paddled
nearly the whole day in the hot sun, languid and weary, and most
fearfully hungry. Neither ducks nor geese were to be seen, and the
gold-eyes resisted all our allurements. We knew that we must be at
least 150 miles from our journey’s end, and our only hope of escaping
semi-starvation seemed to be the speedy arrival of the steamer. For
be it remembered, that for the whole distance of 450 miles between
Georgetown and Pembina, sixty miles above Fort Garry, there are no
inhabitants except chance parties of Indians. We were sorely tempted to
stop and rest during the heat of the day, but were urged on by the hope
of finding something edible before nightfall.
Our perseverance was duly rewarded, for shortly before sundown we came
upon a flock of geese, and a most exciting chase ensued. Faintness and
languor were forgotten, and we paddled furiously after them, encouraged
by the prospect of a substantial supper. We killed three geese, and
soon after met with a number of ducks, out of which we shot seven.
Before we could find a place at which to camp, we killed two more
geese, and were well supplied for a couple of days. We speedily lit a
fire, plucked and spitted our game, and before they were half cooked,
devoured them, far more greedily than if they had been canvass-backs
at Delmonico’s, or the Maison Dorée. The total consumption at this
memorable meal consisted of two geese and four ducks; but then, as
a Yankee would express it, they were geese and ducks “straight”--
_i.e._, without anything else whatever. We slept very soundly and
happily that night, and at daybreak were awakened by the puffing of the
steamer; and running to the edge of the river, there, sure enough, was
the _International_. The captain had already caught sight of us, and
stopped alongside; and in a few minutes we were on board, and engaged
in discussing what seemed to us a most delicious meal of salt pork,
bread, and molasses. We had been sixteen days since leaving Georgetown,
and were not sorry that our canoeing was over. On the following day we
reached Pembina, a half-breed settlement on the boundary-line between
British and American territory; and the next, being the 7th of August,
arrived at Fort Garry. Directly we came to anchor opposite the Fort, a
number of people came on board, principally half-breeds, and amongst
them La Ronde, who had been out with Milton on his previous visit to
the plains. He indulged in the most extravagant demonstrations of
delight at seeing him again, and expressed his readiness to go with him
to the end of the world, if required.
He informed us that our arrival was expected. Two men, who had left
Georgetown after our departure from that place, had arrived at Fort
Garry some days before by land, and from the unusually long time we
had been out, serious apprehensions were entertained for our safety.
Indeed, La Ronde had made preparations to start immediately in search
of us, in case we did not arrive by the steamer. We pitched our tent
near his house, in preference to the unsatisfactory accommodation
of the so-called hotel, and had no cause to regret having at once
commenced life under canvass.