The Treaty
The details of the expedition to the Indians on the St. John were
finally arranged, and we set off. Duncan Hale was to act as secretary
to Sir Richard Hughs, the lieutenant-governor, while I was assigned to
a similar position under a certain Colonel Francklin, who had been
appointed by the Government as superintendent of Indian affairs. There
went with us also a Rev. Father Bourg, a former missionary to the
Indians, a Romanist, a man of French descent, but, as I was afterwards
to learn, a valuable and loyal subject of King George.
Our party, including soldiers and a few gentlemen who went to look over
the country north of the bay, with a view to getting some of the many
farmers who had come from Boston to settle upon it, numbered, in all,
twenty-seven persons.
Somewhat tired from the long journey on horseback over a road that was
exceedingly rough, we finally reached Annapolis. The country about
here was partly settled, and seemed to be remarkably fertile. There
were wide, rich marshes, orchards, and many well-cultivated farms,
occupied mainly by settlers who had come in from the American Colonies
before the war. These lands, Father Bourg explained to me, had
originally been occupied by his ancestors, who had come from France
over a hundred years previously.
From Annapolis we took a sailing vessel, and were soon across the Bay
of Fundy, and in the harbour at the mouth of the great St. John River.
The shores of the harbour seemed to be particularly rocky and
forbidding. At a place called Portland Point, where we landed, there
were a few buildings, somewhat rudely constructed, and used mainly by a
trading company that, for years, had done business with the Indians and
others up the river. On a hill to the eastward was a fort, called Fort
Howe; everywhere else, down even to the water's edge, stretched the
black, unbroken forest.
We found the members of the trading company here, though American
born--unlike some others afterwards discovered up the river--to be true
and loyal subjects of the King. They exerted themselves to house us
comfortably, and then proceeded to give us much valuable information.
'The Indians,' I heard Mr. Simonds, the head of the company, tell
Colonel Francklin, the evening of the day of our arrival, 'are becoming
more and more insolent. Not only have agents from the rebels been
among them, but their chiefs have, in answer to a special invitation,
visited General Washington at Boston. He there spoke many flattering
words to them, told them also that the English were planning to take
their country and make them slaves. Besides this he gave them large
presents, presented them with a wampum belt, a flag--a new design with
stars and stripes--provided them with arms, and finally exacted a
promise from them to kill or drive out the English found on the St.
John.'
I saw Colonel Francklin's face take on a look of keen anxiety. 'Have
these chiefs yet returned?' he asked.
'They have. For some days on the upper waters of the river they have
been poisoning the minds of the tribes. Cattle of the loyal settlers
have been driven off by them, houses burned, while the boats and nets
of some of our fishermen have been destroyed.'
That night there was a long conference at the little trading post. The
next morning Colonel Francklin, Father Bourg, Mr. Simonds and myself,
with some dozen others, went on board a small sailing vessel, and
proceeded up the river, the plan being to meet the Indians and bring
them to the fort for an interview with the lieutenant-governor.
As our vessel swung away from the wharf, and proceeded up the great
stream, I could not help admiring the grandeur of the scenery. On the
right there arose a great cliff of bluish white limestone. Far up this
a few workmen, in the employ of Mr. Simonds, were chipping and drilling
the rock, while down near the water's edge, where two schooners were
being loaded with barrels of lime, great puffs of smoke rose from the
kilns. It was my first glimpse of industry in the new country.
After passing the cliffs, the banks of the river fell away back,
affording us a full and magnificent view of the great stream and its
surroundings. Far up the valley ahead, narrowed by the distance and
sparkling in the flood of May sunlight, I could see the winding line of
the river sliding among other lower hills, which showed blue through
the lifting mist. White, circling gulls shrieked out protests as they
swooped angrily very near to the Union Jack at our masthead; but apart
from this, and the strong swish of waters about our bows, the unbroken
silence of the great wilderness was over all.
Standing on the deck and looking about, a feeling of exceeding
smallness and loneliness came in upon me. I had seen nothing like this
in New England, nor yet in Nova Scotia, for richness, for real
magnificent bigness and beauty. The sky above seemed higher and bluer,
the water below was clearer, the wind purer, the sweep of scenery finer
than any my memory could recall. Was nature to help in compensating us
for what we had lost and left behind? Had fate been cruel a year ago
in order to be kinder now? At any rate I felt as I looked out over it
all, then up at the small flag flaunting its red gaily against the
blue, that with these hills about me, with this river in front and with
that flag and God above me, I could be happy. I breathed a prayer,
then I resolved to make a home for my mother and sisters on the River
St. John.
The evening of the second day on the river was approaching when I saw
Father Bourg rise from his seat on the deck, and advancing to the
vessel's prow, look eagerly up the stream. When he turned he said
simply, 'De Indian; dey are coming in great number.'
For some time I could see nothing; but under the direction of the good
priest I was finally able to make out a long, thin line far up the
river, stretching almost from bank to bank.
'Dese are canoe,' he said, and then leaving me to look and wonder, he
was off to seek out Colonel Francklin and Mr. Simonds.
In half an hour our vessel was surrounded by over five hundred warriors
in ninety canoes. It was evident from the first that they were
hostile. The flag at our masthead became a target for many arrows; now
and then there sounded out sharply the crack of an American rifle;
there was also much shouting and wild jeering such as I had never heard
before. In one of the leading canoes waved a flag that bore stars and
stripes upon it. It was the new flag of the rebel colonies, and had
been presented to the chiefs by Washington. The sight of this filled
me with much bitterness.
As the canoe bearing the flag came nearer to our vessel, I saw some of
the anxiety disappear from the face of Father Bourg. He said something
I did not hear to Colonel Francklin, then the next moment advanced to
the rail. 'Pierre Tomah,' he shouted, 'Pierre Tomah'; then still
speaking very loudly in a language I had never heard before, he briefly
addressed a distinguished-looking warrior who sat under the flag.
When he had finished the warrior rose. He was a man of magnificent
proportions. His tall plume swayed in the gentle wind, and his
brilliant costume glittered in the evening sun. 'I baptize him
feefteen years ago on de Restigouche,' I heard Father Bourg say in a
low voice to Colonel Francklin. 'Dis is most fortunate: we may yet
succeed.'
The chief lifted his hand commandingly to those behind him. Without a
word the five hundred warriors dropped their rifles and removed the
arrows from their bow-strings. A great silence fell over the fleet of
swaying canoes. On our vessel each man breathed uneasily. Pierre
Tomah was the chief of all the Indians in the great country north of
the Bay of Fundy. On the Restigouche, on the wide, full Miramichi, on
the St. John and all its branches, his word was law.
'Pere Bourg,' I heard the great chief say in opening, and then all was
unintelligible to me for a time. At length I caught the word
'Washington' and a moment after I saw him point upward to the flag that
flew above him.
Father Bourg replied with great spirit, waving his arms as he did so.
I heard him use the words 'Washington,' 'England,' and 'King George.'
For a time Pierre Tomah was silent. Then his eyes wandered toward the
wide sandy stretch of shore. In a few moments it was arranged that we
should land, for a fuller discussion of the questions at issue.
Colonel Francklin and Father Bourg then proceeded to reason with the
chiefs, most of whom showed themselves openly hostile. Finally Pierre
Tomah said he could not decide without having first consulted the
Divine Being. He then threw himself upon the sand and remained lying
face downward, speechless and motionless for a long time. On rising he
informed the other chiefs that he had been advised by the Great Being
to keep peace with King George and his people. For a time the decision
was very unpopular with many of the warriors, but all finally yielded,
and consented to accept the invitation of the lieutenant-governor,
asking them to go to the mouth of the river.
The next morning, surrounded by the flotilla of canoes, we started on
the return journey, reaching the trading-post and fort at the river's
mouth after having been absent four days. Negotiations were at once
entered into, and the terms of a treaty of peace were, after several
days, finally agreed upon. When all had been arranged, the
lieutenant-governor, representing King George, accompanied by Colonel
Francklin, the commander of the fort, and several soldiers who formed a
bodyguard, marched down from the fort to a meeting-place previously
arranged. When the King's representative was seated, Pierre Tomah, the
other chiefs, and many of the principal Indians who had gathered from
all parts of Nova Scotia, came and solemnly knelt before him.
First they delivered up the flag received from General Washington, also
the letter written by him to them, as well as the numerous presents he
had sent, together with the treaty made with the Massachusetts
government some weeks previously, binding them to send six hundred
warriors into the field. They then took a solemn oath, 'to bear faith
and true allegiance to His Majesty King George the Third; to take no
part directly or indirectly against the King in the struggle with his
rebellious subjects, and to return to their homes to engage in the
usual pursuits of hunting and fishing in a peaceable and quiet manner.'
This declaration made, as a pledge that it should be kept, Pierre Tomah
then gave into the hand of the lieutenant-governor a belt of wampum,
while that gentleman, in turn, rising and walking along the line of
kneeling chiefs, placed a decoration on the shoulder of each. He also
presented the warriors with a large Union Jack. When handsome speeches
had been made on both sides the chiefs performed a song and dance in
honour of the great conference. The night was spent in feasting and
rejoicing under the British flag.
The next day the warriors, accompanied by the loyal and clever Father
Bourg, embarked for the return up river. In answer to the salute from
the cannon on Fort Howe, they gave three huzzahs and an Indian whoop.
The last sound we heard as they drew around a bend in the river above
was Father Bourg, with his French accent, leading in singing, 'God Save
the King.'
That night, after talking long with Duncan Hale of the clever manner in
which we had outwitted Washington and his agents, I fell asleep and
dreamed of the new home I was to build on the now peaceful St. John for
my mother and sisters. One step at least had been taken: from being an
enemy the Indian had been turned into a friend.