WINTERING ON THE BAY
Little is known of the many strange things which must have taken place
on the voyage. On board the _Edward and Ann_ sickness was prevalent
and the ship's surgeon was kept busy. There were few days on which the
passengers could come from below-decks. When weather permitted,
Captain Macdonell, who knew the dangers to be encountered in the
country they were going to, attempted to give the emigrants military
drill. 'There never was a more awkward squad,' was his opinion, 'not a
man, or even officer, of the party knew how to put a gun to his eye or
had ever fired a shot.' A prominent figure on the _Edward and Ann_ was
a careless-hearted cleric, whose wit and banter were in evidence
throughout the voyage. This was the Reverend Father Burke, an Irish
priest. He had stolen away without the leave of his bishop, and it
appears that he and Macdonell, {45} although of the same faith, were
not the best of friends.
After a stormy voyage of nearly two months the ships entered the long,
barren straits leading into Hudson Bay. From the beginning of
September the fleet had been hourly expected at York Factory, and
speculation was rife there as to its delay in arriving. On September
24 the suspense ended, for the look-out at the fort descried the ships
moving in from the north and east. They anchored in the shallow haven
on the western shore, where two streams, the Nelson and the Hayes,
enter Hudson Bay, and the sorely tried passengers disembarked. They
were at once marched to York Factory, on the north bank of the Hayes.
The strong palisades and wooden bastions of the fort warned the
newcomers that there were dangers in America to be guarded against. A
pack of 'husky' dogs came bounding forth to meet them as they
approached the gates.
A survey of the company's buildings convinced Macdonell that much more
roomy quarters would be required for the approaching winter, and he
determined to erect suitable habitations for his people before
snowfall. With this in view he crossed over to the Nelson {46} and
ascended it until he reached a high clearing on its left bank, near
which grew an abundance of white spruce. He brought up a body of men,
most of whom now received their first lesson in woodcraft. The pale
and flaky-barked aromatic spruce trees were felled and stripped of
their branches. Next, the logs were 'snaked' into the open, where the
dwellings were to be erected, and hewed into proper shape. These
timbers were then deftly fitted together and the four walls of a rude
but substantial building began to rise. A drooping roof was added, the
chinks were closed, and then the structure was complete. When a
sufficient number of such houses had been built, Macdonell set the
party to work cutting firewood and gathering it into convenient piles.
The prudence of these measures became apparent when the frost king
fixed his iron grip upon land and sea. As the days shortened, the
rivers were locked deep and fast; a sharp wind penetrated the forest,
and the salty bay was fringed with jagged and glistening hummocks of
ice. So severe was the cold that the newcomers were loath to go forth
from their warm shelter even to haul food from the fort over the
brittle, yielding snow. Under such {47} conditions life in the camp
grew monotonous and dull. More serious still, the food they had to eat
was the common fare of such isolated winterers; it was chiefly salt
meat. The effect of this was seen as early as December. Some of the
party became listless and sluggish, their faces turned sallow and their
eyes appeared sunken. They found it difficult to breathe and their
gums were swollen and spongy. Macdonell, a veteran in hardship, saw at
once that scurvy had broken out among them; but he had a simple remedy
and the supply was without limit. The sap of the white spruce was
extracted and administered to the sufferers. Almost immediately their
health showed improvement, and soon all were on the road to recovery.
But the medicine was not pleasant to take, and some of the party at
first foolishly refused to submit to the treatment.
The settlers, almost unwittingly, banded together into distinct groups,
each individual tending to associate with the others from his own home
district. As time went on these groups, with their separate
grievances, gave Macdonell much trouble. The Orkneymen, who were
largely servants of the Hudson's Bay Company, were not long in
incurring his {48} disfavour. To him they seemed to have the appetites
of a pack of hungry wolves. He dubbed them 'lazy, spiritless and
ill-disposed.' The 'Glasgow rascals,' too, were a source of annoyance.
'A more ... cross-grained lot,' he asserted, 'were never put under any
person's care.'
[Illustration: The country of Lord Selkirk's Letters.]
Owing to the discord existing in the camp, the New Year was not ushered
in happily. In Scotland, of all the days of the year, this anniversary
was held in the highest regard. It was generally celebrated to the
strains of 'Weel may we a' be,' and with effusive handshakings, much
dining, and a hot kettle. The lads from the Orkneys were quite wide
awake to the occasion and had no intention of omitting the customs of
their sires. On New Year's Day they were having a rollicking time in
one of the cabins. But their enthusiasm was quickly damped by a party
of Irish who, having primed their courage with whisky, set upon the
merry-makers and created a scene of wild disorder. In the heat of the
_melee_ three of the Orkneymen were badly beaten, and for a month their
lives hung in the balance. Captain Macdonell later sent several of the
Irish back to Great Britain, saying that such 'worthless blackguards'
were {49} better under the discipline of the army or the navy.
One of the number who had not taken kindly to Miles Macdonell as a
'medicine-man' was William Findlay, a very obdurate Orkneyman, who had
flatly refused to soil his lips with the wonder-working syrup of the
white spruce. Shortly afterwards, having been told to do something, he
was again disobedient. This time he was forced to appear before
Magistrate Hillier of the Hudson's Bay Company and was condemned to
gaol. As there was really no such place, a log-house was built for
Findlay, and he was imprisoned in it. A gruff-noted babel of dissent
arose among his kinsfolk, supported by the men from Glasgow. A gang of
thirteen, in which both parties were represented, put a match to the
prison where Findlay was confined, and rescued its solitary inmate out
of the blaze. Then, uttering defiance, they seized another building,
and decided to live apart. Thus, with the attitude of rebels and well
supplied with firearms, they kept the rest of the camp in a state of
nervousness for several months. In June, however, these rebels allowed
themselves to fall into a trap. Having crossed the Nelson, they found
their return cut off by {50} the melting of the ice. This put them at
the mercy of the officials at York Factory, and they were forced to
surrender. After receiving their humble acknowledgments Macdonell was
not disposed to treat them severely, and he took them back into service.
But what of jovial Father Burke since his arrival on the shores of
Hudson Bay? To all appearances, he had not been able to restrain his
flock from mischief. He had, however, been exploring on his own
account, and thoroughly believed that he had made some valuable
discoveries. He had come upon pebbles of various kinds which he
thought were precious stones. Some of them shone like diamonds; others
seemed like rubies. Father Burke was indeed sure that bits of the sand
which he had collected contained particles of gold. Macdonell himself
believed that the soil along the Nelson abounded in mineral wealth. He
told the priest to keep the discovery a secret, and sent samples of
sand and stone to Lord Selkirk, advising him to acquire the banks of
the Nelson river from the company. In the end, to the disgust of
Macdonell and Father Burke, not one sample proved of any value.
Weeks before the ice had left the river, the {51} colonists became
impatient to set forward on the remainder of their journey. To
transport so many persons, with all their belongings and with
sufficient provisions, seven or eight hundred miles inland was an
undertaking formidable enough to put Captain Macdonell's energies to
the fullest test. The only craft available were bark canoes, and these
would be too fragile for the heavy cargoes that must be borne. Stouter
boats must be built. Macdonell devised a sort of punt or flat-bottomed
boat, such as he had formerly seen in the colony of New York. Four of
these clumsy craft were constructed, but only with great difficulty,
and after much trouble with the workmen. Inefficiency, as well as
misconduct, on the part of the colonists was a sore trial to Macdonell.
The men from the Hebrides were now practically the only members of the
party who were not, for one reason or another, in his black book.
It was almost midsummer before the boats began to push up the Hayes
river for the interior. There were many blistered hands at the oars;
nevertheless, on the journey they managed to make an average of
thirteen miles each day. Before the colonists could reach Oxford
House, the next post of the Hudson's {52} Bay Company, three dozen
portages had to be passed. It was with thankful hearts that they came
to Holy Lake and caught sight of the trading-post by its margin. Here
was an ample reach of water, reminding the Highlanders of a loch of
far-away Scotland. When the wind died down, Holy Lake was like a giant
mirror. Looking into its quiet waters, the voyagers saw great fish
swimming swiftly.
From Oxford House the route lay over a height-of-land to the
head-waters of the Nelson. After a series of difficulties the party
reached Norway House, another post of the Hudson's Bay Company, on an
upper arm of Lake Winnipeg. At this time Norway House was the centre
of the great fur-bearing region. The colonists found it strongly
entrenched in a rocky basin and astir with life. After a short rest
they proceeded towards Lake Winnipeg, and soon were moving slowly down
its low-lying eastern shore. Here they had their first glimpse of the
prairie country, with its green carpet of grass. Out from the water's
edge grew tall, lank reeds, the lurking place of snipe and sand-piper.
Doubtless, in the brief night-watches, they listened to the shrill cry
of the restless lynx, or heard the yapping howl of the timber wolf as
he slunk {53} away among the copses. But presently the boats were
gliding in through the sand-choked outlet of the Red River, and they
were on the last stage of their journey.
Some forty miles up-stream from its mouth the Red River bends sharply
towards the east, forming what is known as Point Douglas in the present
city of Winnipeg. Having toiled round this point, the colonists pushed
their boats to the muddy shore. The day they landed--the natal day of
a community which was to grow into three great provinces of Canada--was
August 30, 1812.
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