_AFTER MANY DAYS._
1827.
It must not be inferred that the wheels of incident in connection
with the lives of George Morrison and Chrissy had ceased to move
during the twenty-one years of separation. Strange things were
happening on the lonely shores of the settlement in the wilderness,
where the once bright and joyous Chrissy was pining away her life.
Still stranger things were happening to her absent lover.
At first, evil tidings from the Great Lone Land seemed like a dream
from which there would be a glad awakening. But as days went by, and
still the spell of silence brooded over her heart and life, and as
days ripened into weeks--weeks into months--months into years--clouds
of disappointment overshadowed her life, and Chrissy began to grow
old and careworn. Loved ones watched her with wistful eyes. Why
such a true, lovely woman had been destined to live on and on in a
dire eclipse was a problem beyond the comprehension of all.
It was a hot, sultry morning in August Chrissy and her father were
standing on the south shore of the river with Colonel By, who was
superintending a large staff of workmen engaged in the construction
of the Rideau Canal. On the eastern point was a pretty villa built
of boulders, and surrounded with a low, wide veranda, and which, when
completed, was designed to be the residence of the gallant Colonel.
Surrounding it were the tents of the officers of two companies of
Sappers and Miners, whose smart uniforms added to the picturesqueness
of the scene. On the adjacent cliff three stone barracks were being
built.
"It is a magnificent site--a magnificent site!" said the Colonel,
then dreamily added: "It would not surprise me to see a fortress like
the Castle St. Louis on that bluff some day."
A busy scene presented itself between the two cliffs, where scores of
men with picks, shovels, hand-drills, wheel-barrows, and stone drays,
were busily excavating. Stone-masons, with their mallets and
chisels, were compelled to stop every few minutes to wipe the
perspiration from their brows with their shirt-sleeves. Irish and
Scotch they were mostly, their coarse homespun shirts contrasting
with the neat undress uniform of the officers who were supervising
the building of the barracks and assisting in the works.
Two men, with muskets, from one of the back settlements then accosted
the Chief in an excited state of mind, and asked if it were another
American invasion that they were preparing for.
"We heard the sound of your cannon," they said, "miles away, and we
followed in the direction from whence the sound came, and when we saw
the soldiers and the men engaged on the defences we were convinced
that we had good grounds for our fears."
The Colonel enjoyed the joke immensely, as did the workmen, who had a
hearty laugh at the expense of the backwoodsmen.
Mr. MacKay, the contractor, observing the embarrassment of the poor
fellows, said:
"I trust that our men always will be as ready to take up arms in
defence of their country if the need arises. They are brave, loyal
fellows."
Just then they observed a canoe approaching.
"It looks like one of the big canoes of the Hudson's Bay Company,"
said the Chief.
The canoe was manned by four Indians, with three white men
comfortably seated in the bottom. On landing, a man of about forty,
whose head and face looked as though they had not been disturbed by
scissors or razor for several months, approached the party. Though
poorly clad, his voice and manner and general bearing denoted him a
gentleman and an Englishman.
"We saw the storm approaching," he said, "and thought we would take
shelter here, and see what is going on. May I ask," he continued,
turning to Colonel By, "whom I have the pleasure of addressing?"
"I am Colonel By, of the Royal Engineers," replied the officer.
"And what are you excavating for?" he asked.
"A military canal of about one hundred and twenty miles in length,"
replied the Colonel, "which will give us a safer route to the West
than the St. Lawrence route. You have the advantage of us," he
added. "What is your name, sir?"
"My name," he said, "is Franklin--John Franklin--and these are my
friends, Richardson and Morrison. Richardson and I have travelled
about five thousand miles. We have been exploring the northern coast
of the continent. We travelled over land from Davis Strait westward
until we came to the Mackenzie River, where we found our friend,
here," he said, pointing to a poor cripple who was being lifted from
the canoe by the Indians.
Since the mention of the name of Morrison Chrissy had stood
transfixed. Could it be that the tall, powerful, manly figure that
she remembered so well could have become so distorted as to be bent
almost double? Could it be possible that the cripple before her was
George--her long-lost George?
A smile of recognition crossed Morrison's face as he caught sight of
Chrissy. She uttered a scream of delight--"O George! George! Is it
you? is it you?"
For a time the two were too overcome to be able to utter a word. The
expression of peace and joy and hope which Chrissy possessed even as
a girl in the old convent days was more noticeable now, not only in
her face but in her whole manner.
It was the same sweet, modest face, the same earnest love-lit eyes
which had so long reigned in George's heart, kindling within him the
resignation and hope which had sustained him through years of
suffering, that greeted him as he stood on the beach.
What did it matter to them that the curious gaze of scores of
onlookers was centred upon them? Totally oblivious to all but
themselves, he grasped her hand, but was too overcome with emotion to
be able to utter a word.
"This is an unexpected pleasure," said the Colonel, at length,
shaking hands with them warmly. "Come, let us seek shelter in my
tent, and you must all dine with me to-night."
"Could anything have been more pathetic," said Captain Franklin to
the Chief, as they ascended the cliffs, "than your daughter's eager
welcome of her lover?" Not only he, but others who saw the meeting,
shared the unalloyed bliss of the two who were just on the threshold
of their new life of love and companionship.
Hardly had they reached the Colonel's tent when the threatening
storm-cloud burst with all its fury, carrying away several of the
tents and threatening to sweep everything before it. Though terrific
while it lasted, the clouds soon dispersed, and the setting sun shone
out for an hour or so, illuminating the sky.
Dinner over, the Colonel said: "Let me show you one of the most
picturesque scenes in Canada."
They followed their host to the veranda of his new house, and while
Captain Franklin was admiring the beauties of nature, the Colonel
recounted the difficulties they had to contend with in erecting the
bridge over the Ottawa, which at the time was obscured by the rising
mist.
"We commenced the work last fall," he said, "but I was obliged to
spend most of the winter in Montreal, and after they had constructed
the first arch from the opposite shore the whole thing collapsed. In
order to obtain communication with the opposite bank at the foot of
the falls we got Captain Asterbrooks to take a cannon to the rocks
near where the end of the bridge would naturally be, so as to fire
off a rope across the channel, a distance of two hundred and forty
feet, to the island.
"For the first trial a half-inch rope was used, but the force of the
powder cut it. The experiment was repeated, but with the same
result. An inch rope was then tried, and it was thrown on to the
island about one hundred feet.
"Having secured the rope at both ends, the workmen were enabled to
haul over larger ones. A trestle ten feet high was then erected on
each side of the channel, and two ropes stretched across the tops of
the trestles and fastened at each end to the rocks. These were
allowed to be slack, in order to give greater strength. The next
step was to have a foot passage to allow workmen to communicate with
each other, and with this object the ropes were placed four feet
apart and planked over, and a rope hand-rail made on each side.
Chains were then placed across over trestles in a similar manner, and
planked on top, until the planking from each shore reached within ten
feet of joining in the middle, when the chain broke and precipitated
the workmen and their tools into the channel. Three of our best men
were drowned. The others swam ashore.
"Though it is extremely difficult and hazardous to build at such a
point, I was determined to succeed, so I had a large scow built and
anchored to a point of rock where the bridge was to be built. We
made stronger trestles of heavier timber, and got two eight-inch
cables, which we laid across the channel over the trestles, which we
secured to the rocks at each end. Then we built a wooden bridge, and
with screw-jacks placed on the scow below it was kept up to its
proper level. The work is almost completed," he said, "and I am
determined that it shall stand, even if I have to build it of silver
dollars."
"Can you see the bridge, Colonel?" asked the Chief. "The mist comes
and goes. Sometimes it seems as though it were not there."
"Your vision is probably growing defective," replied the Colonel.
It was evident to more than the Chief that the structure had been
loosened from its moorings by the gale, and could be seen moving
majestically down stream; but, knowing the Colonel's temper, they
determined to say nothing more on the subject.
The account of the construction of the first bridges over the Ottawa
had little of interest for either George or Chrissy, who sat a little
apart from the others, absorbed in conversation.
"On reaching the Fort after our interrupted meeting," said George, "I
was ordered off to the North to open a new trading-post. Our crew
consisted of one French-Canadian, four Indians, and myself. We left
Fort Chippewyan in July, our canoe loaded with pemmican, an
assortment of useful and ornamental articles to be given as gifts to
the Indians, to ensure us a friendly reception among them, and the
ammunition and arms necessary for defence, as well as a supply for
our Indians, upon whom we depended for our chief supply of
provisions, as it was impossible to carry all that would be required
before our return.
"Our course, which led from the Ungigah (Peace) to the Slave River,
from thence to the Dog River, and from that to Slave Lake, was
uneventful. The weather was extremely cold, and we were much
hindered by ice. It was after we left the lake that our trouble
really commenced. Our guide, who professed to know the route,
mistook a small lake for the river, and led us into the midst of a
tribe of the most hostile natives, known as the Red Knife Indians.
"My men spoke to these people in the Chippewyan language, and the
information they gave respecting the river for which we were
searching had so much of the fabulous that I shall not attempt to
recall it. They said it would require several winters to reach it;
that there was a great Manitou in the midst of it which consumed
everything that attempted to pass, and that there were other monsters
of horrid shapes and such destructive powers that all travel on it
was effectually blocked.
"Though I did not believe a word they said, it had a very different
effect upon my Indians, who were already tired of the voyage. It was
only too evident that they were determined to return. They said
that, according to the information they had received, there were very
few animals in the country beyond us, and that as we proceeded the
scarcity would increase, and that we would perish from hunger.
Seeing that this had no effect upon me, they said that some
treacherous design was meditated against me. A panic had seized
them, and any further prosecution of the voyage, or of means of
escape, was considered by them as altogether hopeless and
impracticable.
"Without paying the least attention to the opinions or surmises of my
Indians, I ordered them to take everything out of the canoe, which
had become so leaky that we did not consider it safe to continue our
journey in it. To add to the perplexity of the situation we had not
an ounce of gum to repair it, and not one of the men had sufficient
courage to venture into the woods to collect it. I dared not leave
the crew with the canoe lest they might prove deserters. We were
under the necessity of making a smoke to keep off the swarms of
mosquitoes, which would otherwise have tormented us to death, but we
did not venture to excite a blaze, as it would have been a mark for
the arrows of the Red Knives. Though almost prostrated with
weariness, I dared not sleep, but spent the night from sunset at 10
p.m. till nearly daylight at 2 a.m. in plotting and planning means to
bring about a reconciliation with the natives, which alone would
enable me to procure guides, without whose assistance it would be
impossible for me to proceed.
"Just before sunrise, while sitting quietly in my tent, from which I
could observe the crew, I heard a slow, stealthy movement in the rear
of the tent. Turning hastily to investigate, I could see the dim
figure of a man, dagger in hand, creeping under the canvas. In a
moment I jumped on him, disarmed him, and secured his hands and feet
with the fathoming-line, which fortunately was within reach. During
the scuffle my whole crew fled to the canoe and escaped, leaving me
at the mercy of the natives."
By this time the Chief had become an interested listener, and had
beckoned to the others, who joined the little group and were
listening intently to George as he related his adventures with the
Red Knives.
"How shall I find words," he said, "to depict the fiendish atrocities
perpetrated by that tribe during the months and years which followed.
Their greatest cruelty lay in torturing their victim to the verge of
insanity, and in stopping short of the final act, which would have
proved a most blessed release. Escape was impossible. Suicide,
which seemed so desirable, was forbidden by Divine law.
"We had returned to the camp from a hunting excursion one rainy day,
and as they always insisted upon having me do the paddling up stream,
as well as any other drudgery too difficult for the squaws, I was
steaming from having been overheated, and as I was on the verge of
exhaustion, fell asleep without sufficient covering, which I was
unable to procure; consequently I became a martyr to rheumatism.
There I was, helpless, racked with pains which would provoke the
mildest of men to an Indian war-dance, and with red-hot joints and
swollen limbs.
"After three months of misery among them, I began to suffer many
things from many medicine-men, and was nothing better, but rather
grew worse. I had nauseous medicines in large doses from one, and
small doses from another, with exactly the same results. I was
drenched, and steamed, and packed, and baked, externally, and almost
poisoned internally with draughts of water which, to say the least,
were unclean; but all to no purpose. They blew upon me, and then
whistled. They pressed their extended fingers with all their
strength into me. They put their forefingers doubled into my mouth,
and spouted water from their own mouths into mine. They applied
pieces of lighted touchwood to my flesh in many places. They then
placed me on a litter made of saplings, and I was carried by four men
into the woods, and as I observed one Indian carrying fire, another
an axe, and a third dry wood, I could not but conjecture that they
had arrived at the humane conclusion of relieving me of all pain
forever. When we had advanced a short distance into the woods, they
laid me on a clear spot and kindled a fire against my back. Then the
medicine-men began to scarify my flesh with blunt instruments.
"A great hole was then dug in the ground, which I concluded was to be
my burial-place. In this excavation a fire was kept up until the
ground was heated to its utmost extent, when the embers and ashes
were scraped out. Several layers of damp mud were immediately
plastered over this fiery furnace. I was then placed within it, and
covered with mud, my head alone protruding. For thirty-six hours I
endured the torture of escaping steam, after which they carried me
back to my lair in the camp more dead than alive, where I lingered on
in agony, praying that every day might be my last. I began to wonder
where the limit of human endurance could be found, and was led to
view the situation philosophically. Why had Infinite Love placed me
in such environment? Was it to appear as a witness for Him who had
said, 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do?' Was it
to bring the light of the Gospel to the Red Knives?
"Month after month I lay in the wigwam, surrounded by the children of
the natives, who in summer were dressed in the uniform which the
Creator had given them, with dangling necklaces or armlets to
decorate them. I soon acquired sufficient knowledge of their
language to be able to converse with them. After years of teaching
they at length began to regard me with feelings of superstition and
awe, and one day the Chief proposed a change of treatment. With a
dignified and imperative gesture of the arm, he bade his attendants
carry me in a blanket to a canoe.
"'We are not pleased,' he said, 'with the progress you are making
towards recovery, and we have decided to take you to a spring which
possesses strange healing power.'
"I could not understand all the Chief said, but his manner indicated
tenderness and sympathy, which led me to believe that the light which
was beginning to brighten the darkened lives of many of his people
was dawning upon him also.
"The suggestion of a change of place kindled in my heart the hope of
meeting someone who could assist me in finding my way back to
civilization once more, and the gnawing pangs of rheumatism seemed
lulled for a time as we embarked on the peaceful waters of the lake.
"It was a glorious day, not a ripple stirred the water as our canoe
glided over the surface. Not a breath of wind moved the heavy mist
which rose and floated with silver transparency over the depths
below. We floated rather than paddled down the little river that
connected the lakes. The snow-capped peaks of the distant mountains
glistened with a radiance that was dazzling as they rose upon our
view. It was like fairy-land. Not a bend in the little stream but
disclosed some glimpse of unexpected loveliness.
"At last we floated out upon the waters of Great Slave Lake, and new
scenes opened before us. Far away in the distance the deep blue
waters glowed and sparkled in the blaze of sunlight. Here and there
islands of green contrasted with the brightness of the water that lay
between them. Far away ahead of our canoe there seemed to nestle on
the surface of the lake a small gray cloud. As we approached it I
could just make out the shadow of an island, and I understood from
the conversation of the Indians that we had at last reached our
destination.
"They carried me over the green mossy turf to a place where little
jets of mineral water were springing clear and sparkling in the
sunlight. Here they commenced to erect a rude hut. Its walls and
roof were low, enclosing a roughly levelled floor of earth. We
spread our skins and drew our blankets over us, and soon felt quite
at home in our new quarters. We had not spent many months on the
island before I felt almost free from pain. Though my joints were
too stiff to walk much, the pains that for long years had made motion
intolerable and life a misery were almost gone.
"One morning as I lay in the hut watching my companions as they sat
round the fire cooking their mid-day meal, a canoe suddenly came in
sight. I started and rubbed my eyes, thinking it a strange illusion,
but there before me were the faces of two white men, the first I had
seen since that ever-memorable night when my crew deserted me. My
companions kept their places before the fire and betrayed not the
slightest surprise or fear while I poured out to my new-found friends
the story of past years. Captain Franklin offered me a passage in
his canoe, and as I took leave of the Indians, and explained that the
white men would take me home, they said not a word, but went on
smoking their short black pipes as though it were nothing to them."
During the course of the evening it was arranged that an important
event should take place at no distant date, George and Chrissy to
reside at the White House. At the same time Colonel By remarked that
it would be an opportune time to lay the corner-stone of the locks.
"We could not do better," he said, "than have the ceremony quietly
performed by one whose name is a household word on two continents,
one who has braved untold peril and hardship in his country's
service, not only in the Polar Seas, but at Trafalgar, Copenhagen and
New Orleans, one whose name stands for everything that is honorable,
self-sacrificing and courageous."
"I agree with you," said Mr. MacKay. "Mr. Redpath, Mr. McTaggart and
myself were discussing the matter this morning, and decided to
suggest to you, sir, that the corner-stone should be laid with some
ceremony, and the work is sufficiently advanced to have it done
to-morrow."
It was finally decided that the ceremony should take place the
following day, August 16th, 1827, at 4 p.m.
Upon that corner-stone so "well and truly laid" was built a city
which, in thirty-one short years, became the capital of a domain
nearly three and a half million square miles larger in extent than
the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, nearly five hundred
thousand square miles larger than the United States, and almost as
large as the combined countries of Europe.
With the laying of the foundation of the city of Ottawa will ever be
associated the names of Rear Admiral Sir John Franklin, who
afterwards laid down his life in the frozen North in the cause of his
country; of Lieut.-Colonel John By, who filled so important a place
in the public works of Canada in the construction of two canals, the
building of two Martello towers on the Plains of Abraham, and whose
recommendations to the Duke of Wellington resulted in the building of
the present fortifications at Quebec; of Thomas MacKay, the
contractor for the locks, who afterwards built Rideau Hall; of John
Redpath, who later settled in Montreal, and built up one of the
largest commercial enterprises in Canada; of John McTaggart, clerk of
the works, to whose able pen we are indebted for much of the history
of the time, and who returned to Scotland on the completion of the
work; and last, but not least, of the White Chief of the Ottawa, the
pioneer "Lumber King."