_I.--The Red River Expedition_
Sir William Francis Butler, G.C.B., born at Suirville,
Tipperary, Ireland, Oct. 31, 1838, was educated at the
Jesuit College, Tullabeg, King's County, and joined the
British Army as an ensign in the 69th Regiment in 1858. In
1877 he married Miss Thompson, the celebrated painter of
"The Roll Call." Sir William Butler is a versatile writer,
his works embracing records of travel, histories of
military campaigns, biographies, and fiction. His first
book was "The Great Lone Land," published in 1872. Half
the volume is devoted to a sketch of the early history of
the northwest regions of Canada, and to tracing the causes
which led to the rebellion of the settlers--principally
half-breeds--under Louis Riel, against the Canadian
Government in 1870. He describes the romantic part he took
in the bloodless campaign of the expeditionary force under
Colonel (now Lord) Wolseley, from Lake Superior to
Winnipeg, for its suppression. In the other half of the
book he describes his journey on a special mission for the
Canadian Government to the Hudson Bay forts and Indian
camps in the valleys of the North and South Saskatchewan
Rivers. Sir William, as a writer, has the rich vocabulary
of the cultivated Celt; he presents many striking word
pictures of the natural scenery of the regions he
traversed. He was almost the first to proclaim the
possibilities of the settlement of the Saskatchewan
prairies, now receiving such an influx of population from
all over the world.
It was a period of universal peace over the world. Some of the great
powers were even bent on disarming. To be more precise, the time was the
close of the year 1869. But in the very farthest West, somewhere between
the Rocky Mountains, Hudson Bay, and Lake Superior, along the river
called the Red River of the North, a people, of whom nobody could tell
who and what they were, had risen in insurrection.
Had the country bordering on the Red River been an unpeopled wilderness,
the plan of transferring the land of the Northwest from the Hudson Bay
Company to the crown, and from the crown to the Dominion of Canada,
might have been an eminently wise one. But, unfortunately, it was a
country which had been originally settled by the Earl of Selkirk in 1812
with Scots from the Highland counties and the Orkney Islands, and
subsequently by French _voyageurs_ from Lower Canada.
There were 15,000 persons living in peaceful possession of the soil thus
transferred, and these persons very naturally objected to have
themselves and their possessions signed away without one word of consent
or note of approbation. Hence began the rebellion led by Louis Riel,
who, with his followers, seized Fort Garry, with all its stores of arms,
guns, provisions, dominated the adjacent village of Winnipeg, and
established what was called a Provisional Government. The rebels went
steadily from violence to pillage, from pillage to robbery, much
supplemented by drunkenness and dictatorial debauchery; and, finally, on
March 4, 1870, with many accessories of cruelty, shot to death a
loyalist Canadian prisoner they had taken, named Thomas Scott.
When, at the beginning of April 1870, news came of the projected
dispatch of an armed force from Canada against Louis Riel and his
malcontent followers at the Red River, there was one who hailed in the
approaching expedition the chance of a solution to the difficulties
which had beset him in his career. That one was myself. Going to the
nearest telegraph station, I sent a message to the leader: "Please
remember me." I sailed at once for Canada, visited Toronto, Quebec, and
Montreal, interviewed many personages, and finally received instructions
on June 12 from those in authority to proceed west.
The expedition had started some time before for its true base of
operations, Fort William, on the north-west shore of Lake Superior. It
was to work its way from Lake Superior to the Red River through British
territory. My instructions were to pass round by the United States,
and, after ascertaining the likelihood of a Fenian intervention from the
side of Minnesota and Dakota, to arrange for supplies for the
expeditionary force from St. Paul; then to endeavour to reach Colonel
Wolseley beyond the Red River, with all the tidings I could gather as to
the state of parties and the chances of fight. At St. Paul my position
was not at all a pleasant one. My identity as a British officer became
known, and to escape unnecessary attention I paid a flying visit to Lake
Superior and then pushed on to Fort Abercrombie. I could find no
evidence at either place that there was a possibility at Vermilion
Lakes, eighty miles north of the latter place, of any filibusters making
a dash at the communications of the expeditionary force.
Afterwards, at Frog's Point on the Red River, I joined the steamer
International, which took me down to a promontory within a couple of
hundred yards of the junction of the Assiniboine and Red rivers, where,
with the connivance of the captain, I jumped ashore and escaped Riel's
scouts, who had heard of my coming, and had been ordered by their leader
to bring me into Fort Garry, "dead or alive." After a pursuit of several
hours in the dark, in which I had a narrow "shave" of being captured, I
reached the lower fort, occupied by loyalists, and thence passed on next
day to an Indian settlement. This was on July 23.
Riel, learning where I was, sent a messenger to say that the pursuit of
me had all been a mistake, and that I might safely come to Fort Garry. I
was anxious to see the position of affairs at the fort, and I repaired
thither, passing without challenge a sentry who was leaning lazily
against a wall. There were two flagstaffs; one flew a Union Jack in
shreds and tatters, and the other a bit of bunting with a _fleur-de-lys_
and a shamrock on a white field. I was conducted to a house, and asked
if I wished to see Mr. Riel. "To call upon him?" "Yes." "Certainly
not!" "But if he calls upon you?" "Then I will see him."
A door opened, and there entered a short, stout man with a large head; a
sallow, puffy face; a sharp, restless, intelligent eye; his square-cut,
massive forehead overhung by a mass of long and thickly clustering hair,
and marked with well-cut eyebrows--altogether a remarkable-looking face.
This was Louis Riel. He was dressed in a curious mixture of clothing--a
black frock coat, vest, trousers, and Indian mocassins. In the course of
the interview he denied he was making preparation to resist the
approaching British expeditionary force. Everything he had done had been
for the sake of peace and to prevent bloodshed; but if the expedition
tried to put him out of his position, they would find they could not do
it, and he would keep what was his till a proper governor arrived!
Eventually he said: "Had I been your enemy, you would have known it
before. I heard you would not visit me, and although I felt humiliated,
I came to see you to show my pacific inclinations."
_II.--The Expedition in the Wilderness_
An hour later I left the fort, hastened to my old quarters at the Indian
settlement, and started by canoe to seek the coming expedition. We
paddled down the Red River to Lake Winnipeg, crossing which we entered
the mouth of the Winnipeg River, and came to Fort Alexandra, a mile up
stream.
This river has an immense volume of water. It descends 360 feet in a
distance of 160 miles by a series of terraces; it is full of eddies and
whirlpools; has every variety of waterfall, from chutes to cataracts; it
expands into lonely pine-cliffed lakes and far-reaching island-studded
bays. My Ojibway crew with infinite skill accomplished the voyage
up-stream, surmounting falls and cataracts by making twenty-seven
portages in five days from leaving Fort Alexandra, during which we had
only encountered two solitary Indians. It was on the evening of July 30
that we reached the Lake of the Woods. Through a perfect maze of
islands, we steered across this wonderfully beautiful sheet of water to
the mouth of the Rainy River, up which we paddled to Fort Francis, where
we arrived on August 4, and heard, for the first time, news of the
expeditionary force.
We were now 400 miles from Fort Garry, and 180 miles beyond the spot
where I had counted upon falling in with them. Next morning we paddled
up to the foot of a rapid which the river makes as it flows out of the
Rainy Lake. Glancing along the broad waters of the lake the glint of
something strange caught my sight. Yes, there they were! Coming with the
full swing of eight paddles, swept a large North-west canoe, its
Iroquois paddlers timing their strokes to an old French chant. We put
into the rocky shore, and, mounting upon a crag which guarded the head
of the rapid, I waved to the leading canoe as it swept along. In the
centre sat a figure in uniform, with a forage-cap on head, and I could
see that he was scanning through a field-glass the strange figure that
waved a welcome from the rock. Soon they entered the rapid, and at the
foot, where I joined the large canoe, Colonel Wolseley called out:
"Where on earth have you dropped from?" "From Fort Garry," said I;
"twelve days out, sir."
It is unnecessary to describe the voyage to Fort Garry along the same
route which I had taken in my canoe. The expeditionary force consisted
of 400 of the 60th Rifles, soldiers whose muscles and sinews, taxed and
tested by continuous toil, had been developed to a pitch of excellence
seldom equalled, and whose appearance and physique told of the glorious
climate of these northern solitudes. There were also two regiments of
Canadian militia, who had undergone the same hardships. Some accidents
had occurred during the journey of 600 miles through the wilderness.
There had been many "close shaves" of rock and rapid, but no life had
been lost.
The expedition camped on August 23 within six miles of Fort Garry. All
through the day the river-banks were enlivened with people shouting
welcome to the soldiers, and church-bells rang out peals of gladness as
the boats passed by. I was scouring the woods, but found no Riel to
dispute the passage. Next morning the troops began to disembark from the
boats for the final advance to Fort Garry at a bend in the Red River
named Point Douglas, two miles from the fort. Preceded by skirmishers
and followed by a rear-guard, the little force drew near Fort Garry.
There was no sign of occupation; no flag on the flagstaff, no men upon
the walls, no sign of resistance visible. The gate facing the
Assiniboine River was open, and two mounted men entered the fort at a
gallop. On the top steps stood a tall, majestic-looking man--an officer
of the Hudson Bay Company, who alternately welcomed with uplifted hat
the new arrivals, and denounced in no stinted terms one or two
miserable-looking men who cowered beneath his reproaches.
With insult and derision Riel and his colleagues had fled from the scene
of their triumph and their crimes. On the bare flagstaff in the fort the
Union Jack was once more hoisted, and from the battery found in the
square a royal salute of twenty-one guns told settler and savage that
the man who had been "elevated by the grace of Providence and the
suffrages of his fellow-citizens to the highest position in the
government of his country," had been ignominiously expelled therefrom.
The breakfast in Government House was found untouched, and thus that
tempest in the teacup, the revolt of Red River, found a fitting
conclusion in the president's untasted tea!
Colonel Wolseley had been given no civil authority, and a wild scene of
drunkenness and debauchery among the _voyageurs_ and Indians followed
the arrival of the troops; but when the Hon. Mr. Archibald, the Civil
Governor, reached Winnipeg, he set matters completely to rest. Before
ten days elapsed the regular troops commenced their return journey to
Canada. On September 10, Colonel Wolseley also took his leave, and I was
left alone in Fort Garry. The Red River expedition was over. My long
journey seemed finished; but I was mistaken, for it was only about to
begin.
_III.--In the Far North-west_
Early in the second week of October the Hon. Mr. Archibald,
Lieutenant-governor of Manitoba, offered me, and I accepted, a mission
to the Saskatchewan Valley and through the Indian countries of the West,
and on the 24th of that month I quitted Fort Garry and commenced my long
journey. My instructions were to inquire into the state of affairs in
the territory; to obtain every particular in connection with the rise
and spread of the scourge of small-pox, from which thousands of Indians,
Esquimaux, and others had lately perished; to distribute medicines
suitable for its treatment to every fort, post, clergyman, or
intelligent person belonging to the settlements, or outside the Hudson
Bay Company's posts.
I made the first stage of 230 miles in five days to Fort Ellice, where
we stayed a couple of days to make preparations for the winter journey
into the Great Lone Land. It was near the close of the Indian summer,
and we travelled at the rate of fifty miles a day, I riding my little
game horse Blackie, while the Red River cart, containing the baggage and
medicines, was drawn by six horses--three in the shafts for a spell, the
other three running free alongside.
Between Fort Ellice and Carlton Fort you pass through the region of the
Touchwood Hills, around which are immense plains scored with the tracks
of the countless buffaloes which, until a few years ago, roamed in vast
herds between the Saskatchewan and Assiniboine. On November 4, and on
several successive days thereafter, snowstorms burst upon us, and the
whole country around was hidden in the dense mist of driving snowflakes.
On the 7th we emerged upon a hill plateau, and 300 feet below was raging
the mighty South Saskatchewan, with great masses of floating, grinding
ice. We contrived a raft made from the box of the wagon, but we could
not accomplish the passage in it. Later on, hard frost having set in, we
were able to cross the river on foot, with the loss of my horse Blackie,
and when half a dozen of the twenty miles to Carlton Fort had been
covered we met a party from it, including the officer in charge. The
first question was, "What of the plague?" And the answer was that it had
burned itself out.
On November 14, we set out again on our western journey, and crossed the
North Saskatchewan. On account of the snow we had discarded our cart and
used sleds. Travelling over hill and dale and frozen lake, we lost the
way in the wilderness, but, taking a line by myself, steering by the
stars, I came on November 17 to Fort Pitt, after having been fifteen
hours on end in the saddle.
Fort Pitt was free of small-pox, but 100 Crees had perished close around
its stockades. The unburied dead lay for days, until the wolves came and
fought over the decaying bodies. The living remnant had fled in despair
six weeks before my arrival. When we renewed our journey on November 20,
the weather became comparatively mild, and our course lay through rich,
well-watered valleys with groves of spruce and pine. Edmonton, which we
reached on November 26, is the headquarters of the Hudson Bay Company's
Saskatchewan trade and the residence of a chief factor of the
corporation.
My objective after leaving Edmonton on December 1 was Rocky Mountain
House, 180 miles distant by horse-trail. Our way led over hills and
plains and the great frozen Gull Lake to the Pas-co-pee, or Blind Man's
River, where we camped on December 3. At midnight there was a heavy
storm of snow. Next morning we rode through the defiles of the Three
Medicine Hills, and after midday, at the western termination of the last
gorge, there lay before me a sight to be long remembered. The great
chain of the Rocky Mountains rose their snow-clad sierras in endless
succession and in unclouded glory. The snow had cleared the atmosphere,
the sky was coldly bright.
An immense plain stretched from my feet to the mountains--a plain so
vast that every object of hill and wood and lake lay dwarfed into one
continuous level. And at the back of this level, beyond the pines and
lakes and the river courses, rose the giant range, solid, impassable,
silent--a mighty barrier rising amidst an immense land, standing
sentinel over the plains and prairies of America, over the measureless
solitudes of this Great Lone Land.
That night there came a frost, and on the morning of November 5 my
thermometer showed 22 degrees below zero. Riding through the foot hills
and pine woods we suddenly emerged on the high banks of the
Saskatchewan, and in the mid distance of a deep valley was the Mountain
House. There was great excitement at my arrival. My journey from the Red
River had occupied 41 days, and I had ridden in that time 1,180 miles.
_IV.--On the Dog Trail to Fort Garry_
I said good-bye to my friends at the Mountain House on December 12, and
once more turned my footsteps eastward. Without incident we reached
Edmonton, and there changed horses and travelled thenceforth, setting
out on December 20, with three trains of dogs--one to carry myself, and
the others to carry provisions and baggage. In fifty days of dog travel
we covered a distance of 1,300 miles, with the cold sometimes 45 degrees
below zero. Great as were the hardships and privations, the dog trail
had many moments of keen pleasure. It was January 19 when we reached the
high ground which looks down upon the forks of the Saskatchewan River.
We now entered the great sub-Arctic pine forest, the most important
preserve of those animals whose skins are rated in the markets of Europe
at four times their weight in gold. On January 22, 1871, we reached
Fort-a-la-Corne, where an old travel-worn Indian came with a mail which
contained news of the surrender of Metz, the investment of Paris, the
tearing up of the Treaty of Paris by the Prussians; and on being
questioned the old man said he had heard at Fort Garry that there was
war, and that England was gaining the day!
To cross with celerity the 700 miles lying between me and Fort Garry
became the chief object of my life. The next morning, with the lightest
of equipment, I started for Cumberland House, the oldest post of the
Hudson Bay Company in the interior. There I obtained, at fabulous
expense, a train of pure Esquimaux dogs, and started on January 31
through a region of frozen swamp for fully 100 miles. On February 7 we
reached Cedar Lake, thence sped on to Lake Winnipegoosis and Shoal Lake,
across a belt of forest to Waterhen River, which carries the surplus
floods of Lake Winnipegoosis to Lake Manitoba, the whole length of which
we traversed, camping at night on the wooded shore, and on February 19
arrived at a mission-house fifty miles from Fort Garry. Not without a
feeling of regret was the old work of tree-cutting, fire-making,
supper-frying, and dog-feeding gone through for the last time.
My mission was accomplished; but in the after-time, 'midst the smoke and
hum of cities, 'midst the prayer of churches, it needs but little cause
to recall again to the wanderer the message of the immense meadows where
far away at the portals of the setting sun lies the Great Lone Land.