UP THE NEEPIGON RIVER.
Five miles of paddling above the rapids brought us to the mouth of the
river Neepigon, a rapid stream about 500 yards in width, we had to keep
close to shore in order to avoid the current.
Our canoe was about 20 feet in length, and weighed perhaps 150 lbs.,
she sat as light as a feather upon the water, and the least movement on
the part of any of the party tipped it over to one side. The paddlers
sat on the cross bars--about two inches wide, Uhbesekun in the bows,
then Joseph, the Bishop and myself, Jimmy and William, and Esquimau in
the stern, six paddles in all, and we travelled at the rate of from
four to six miles an hour.
About 1.30 p.m. rain began to fall, and the clouds threatened a storm.
We paddled on fast to a convenient landing-place, and then went ashore
for dinner, which we partook of under the tent, the rain pelting down
in torrents. However, it was merely a thunder-shower, and in the course
of an hour we were able to proceed.
By four o'clock we had reached our first long portage--three miles in
length--and now began the tug of war. Esquimau and Uhbesekun got the
huge canoe mounted on their shoulders--one at either end of it--keeping
it in its position by ropes which they held as they walked, with their
arms outstretched. Then followed Joseph with the bag of flour (70 lb.)
carried by a portage strap, placed in true Indian style round his
forehead. Then started Jimmy with the tent, blankets, axe, and gun, and
the Bishop with his bundle of wraps hung on his umbrella. William
remained behind with me while I made a sketch. There was no great hurry
for us, as the canoe-bearers would have to return again to take the
remainder of the things. William's pack consisted of my camp-bed,
blankets, mat, coats, &c, and I had the Bishop's valise and some coats.
The portage track was narrow, raspberry canes and high grass almost
hiding the path; up hill and down hill, and across a creek. We soon met
the canoe-bearers going back for their second load, and a little
further on was Joseph, who had deposited his flour and come back to
meet us.
The tents were already pitched when we reached the end of our tramp on
the shores of Lake Jessie, and soon our cook was at work baking bread
and frying pork for our evening meal.
We were all tired, and went to bed about 9 o'clock, after uniting
together in singing and prayer under the open vault of heaven. "Sweet
hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer, That calls me from a world of
care," was the hymn we sung. William shared my tent with me, and the
rest of the boys, with Uhbesekun, slept under the canoe.
The next morning was bright, but with a headwind, we made slow
progress. We accomplished twelve miles across Lakes Jessie and Maria
and pulled up for dinner at Split Rock portage. Here was some of the
grandest scenery we had yet witnessed--high, towering rocks, their
crests clad with fir and birch-trees, the rapids rushing in a white
foaming torrent over the rocks in two rushing, roaring streams, divided
one from the other by a high, precipitous, rocky island. I made a
sketch, and we had dinner, and then, having accomplished the portage
once more, started paddling. It was not far to go this time. In half an
hour we had reached Bland portage, and everything again had to be
unladen and carried. Soon we were in the canoe again heading for the
opposite shore, with a new set of rapids on our right. Now for some
stiff work again, a long portage of about two-and-a-half miles. We each
took our packs and toiled away, getting into camp about 6 p.m.
We were rather disappointed with the appearance of Lake Neepigon, with
its large unbroken line of horizon, land being almost too distant to be
visible. Our baggage was deposited on the face of a great slippery
rock, sloping down gradually into the deep water of the lake. A
favourable breeze was blowing, and as soon as we had dinner our blanket
sail was rigged up. When we were well out into the lake we found quite
a high sea running, and our canoe shipped water. Still we kept on, and
made about twenty miles before we put into an island for the night at
7:30 p.m.
A disappointment awaited us next morning. A strong head-wind was
blowing. We started at 8 a.m., and made about twelve miles. It was very
rough, and the waves dashed over the prow of our frail canoe. We went
in to an island for dinner, and, the wind increasing, we were obliged
to remain there for the rest of the day. All our baking-powder was
gone, and we were reduced to "grease bread," i.e., flat cakes of flour
and water fried in pork fat. They make a good substitute for bread, but
are rather greasy. Joseph had shot a brace of ducks in the morning
before coming away, and one of them we had for supper; which, with some
potted beef and tea in a tin basin, made very good fare!
_August 9th_--We packed up, got all on board, and started
precisely at 6:30. It was a head-wind and a high sea still, so we
proceeded only about one mile to another island, and then pulled in to
have breakfast and wait until the wind went down. At 1 p.m. we made a
start, and ran about five miles to another island. After running twelve
miles more we put in for supper. We calculated we had come fifty miles
on the lake, and had twenty miles more to go. The direct course was
sixty-five miles, but we had lost way by going into the bays.
_August 10th_--We stopped two hours on the island where we landed
for supper last night, and then--it being bright moonlight, and the
wind having calmed down, we started again on a twenty mile stretch,
determined, if possible, to reach the H. B. C. Post at the head of Lake
Neepigon before midnight.
The Bishop settled himself down in the bottom of the canoe, and
Uhbesekun, the four boys and myself, plied vigorously at our paddles--
forty-two strokes per minute. It was a glorious night, and the keen air
put fresh strength into our muscles, so that we kept on untiringly for
nearly three hours. Just at 11 o'clock we came underneath a stupendous
cliff, its dark, rugged face glittering in the moonlight, extending far
up towards the sky above us, with a few ragged fir trees crowning its
summit. It was the grandest scenery we had seen yet.
Our voices echoed as we passed beneath it, and we heard afterwards
that it was called Echo Rock. After passing the cliff, another mile or
so brought us to the Post. We had some difficulty in finding a camping
ground in the dark. The shore was rocky, and we had to cut out a place
in the thick bush on which to pitch our tents. The boys made up a large
fire, which was grateful in the chill night air, and soon we had the
pot boiling for tea. It was 1.30 a.m. when we got to bed, well tired
after our long paddle of seventy miles across the lake.
Next morning the Bishop was the first one astir. About 8 a.m. I got up
and went with Uhbesekun to H. B. Co.'s store to buy baking-powder and
sugar, both of which we had run out of. Prices are high here, flour is
6_d_. a pound--at the Sault it is only 1 1/2_d_. Our cook had
only just woke up, and was rubbing his eyes when we got back. We were
glad to get "spider-bread" again (bread baked in a spider or frying-pan)
instead of grease bread. Several Indians came round. I had a very
interesting talk with a chief this morning. He and another man came
over in a canoe from an island close by, and Esquimau and myself talked
to them as they sat floating on the water, keeping the canoe off the
rocks with their paddles. The chief was certainly the most intelligent
Indian we had yet met with on our travels. He was greatly interested in
hearing about the Shingwauk Home, and said that if he had a son young
enough to go he would send him, but his children were all either grown
up or dead.
We felt very thankful thus to meet one at length who will listen, and
who seems anxious for the improvement of his people. The old man's way
of speaking reminds me very much of "Little Pine" of Garden River, and
he appears to be a man of much the same stamp. Just after this a couple
of young boys visited our camp. One of them was a half-breed. They
carried bows and arrows, and were shooting squirrels. We gave them an
alphabet card. Most of the Indians just round the Post are Roman
Catholics, but those scattered over the lake, about 500 in number, are
nearly all pagans. The name of the chief with whom we talked this
morning is David Winchaub (Bowstring).
We had tea about 7 o'clock, and then put our canoe in the water and
paddled over to the island to visit our friend the chief. He was
sitting cross-legged in a large tent, his summer residence, cooler
probably than a wigwam. Only Esquimau and Joseph were with me. We
entered the chiefs tent and soon got into conversation with him.
I asked him if he would like me to relate to him the history of Little
Pine's conversion to Christianity. He said yes, and listened very
attentively, several times uttering ejaculations, as I recounted to him
how bewildered Little Pine had been about the many religions offered to
him when he was still a pagan some forty years ago; how he and his
father and other Indians made a journey of 300 miles in a canoe, and
then walked another 100 miles till they got to Toronto; how they went
to visit the Great Chief, Sir John Colborne, and asked his advice as to
what they should do about religion, and how Sir John Colborne said to
them, "This country belongs to the Queen. I belong to the Queen's
Church, and I think all you Indians, who are so loyal, ought to belong
to the Queen's Church too." And then, how Little Pine and his party
returned to Garden River, and ever since that time had been faithful
members of the Church of England.
The Chief then made some remarks expressing his approval of what we
had told him, and said he quite understood all that we meant.
I then asked him if he would like me to tell him what was written in
God's book, the Bible. There was only one Bible. French Christians and
English Christians were the same in that,--they had only one Bible. He
would see from what I would tell him whether it was the same as what he
had been taught. He said he was willing to hear and asked me to
proceed. As he was rather deaf, and I wanted him thoroughly to
understand. I asked Esquimau to interpret what I said instead of
speaking to him myself. As I dwelt on the universal sinfulness of
mankind, and urged that there was not a single one free from sin, the
Chief said emphatically, "Kagat, kagat, kagat, kagat! me suh goo
azhewabuk!" (Truly, truly, truly, truly, it is indeed so!) The boys and
myself then knelt and offered up prayer to God for this poor, ignorant,
yet eagerly-listening chief, and for his people, that they might be
taught the true way to life and eternal happiness. It was 9.30 p.m.
when we paddled back to our camp. We met as usual around the camp fire,
and each one repeated a verse of Scripture; then we knelt in the shade
of the dark bush, with the ripple of the water in our ears, and God's
heaven lighted up by His silvery moon, nearly at its full, and offered
up our confessions, and prayers, and praises to Almighty God before
retiring to rest.
_Sunday, August 11th_--While I was dressing, William came to say
that a squaw had come in a canoe with fish to sell. I said, "No, we do
not buy fish on Sunday." So he gave her a piece of bread and sent her
away. We had arranged with the Chief to hold a short service in the
afternoon at his camp, so we passed the morning quietly among
ourselves, reading the first part of the Church prayers, chanting the
Psalms, and one lesson, and then the Bishop taught and catechised the
boys from the Gospel for the day (Matt. vii. 15).
In the afternoon, about 4 p.m., we put our canoe in the water, and
leaving our pagan guide to take care of the tents, the Bishop, four
boys, and myself, paddled across the water to Winchaub's camp. After
waiting some little time, about sixteen or seventeen people gathered
together; being Roman Catholics, the Bishop thought it best not to
attempt a service, but merely to address them on the object of our
visit. So, after shaking hands with the Chief, the Bishop began.. He
spoke first of man's sin and the love of God in preparing a way of
salvation for us by the sacrifice of His own Son. Then he spoke of the
uselessness of mere formal religion, and that we must give our hearts
to God. The Bible, he said, teaches us to care for and to do good to
one another. Then he referred to our Industrial Home at Sault Ste.
Marie, and after urging the people to send their children to it, left
it to me to give a detailed account of the work of the Home. The
Indians listened attentively to all we said, and the Chief thanked the
Bishop, and said that he and the other men would talk together about
what they had heard, and later in the evening he would come over and
give the Bishop their answer.