THE IROQUOIS OF THE CANADIAN BOUNDARY
The Iroquoian branch of the red race is considered by the best
authorities to be far superior, mentally and physically, to any other.
Before British rule was definitely established in Canada, they were a
power (known as "The Six Nations") duly recognised by English and
French alike; and to-day, though less numerous than the Algonquins,
they show fewer signs of dying out than the other families. Ontario
is, and has ever been, a favourite district of theirs, and it was
while living in this province that Dr. John Bigsby, who died in 1881,
jotted down the notes concerning them which one often sees quoted in
works dealing with the study of races.
Surgeon-Major Bigsby had the good fortune, as a young man, to be
appointed geologist and medical officer to the Canadian Boundary
Commission, a post decidedly congenial to a zealous student of
ethnology, since it brought him in constant touch with the Cherokees,
who, with the Hurons, Mohawks, etc., constitute the Iroquoian family.
The inspection of military and native hospitals, together with his
geological researches, necessitated frequent journeys north, south,
and west from Montreal; and it was on one such journey, in the year
1822, that he met with a string of adventures both comical and
exciting.
From Montreal he set out in a light waggon for Kingston, where he fell
in with an acquaintance, Jules Rocheblanc, a fur-trader who, like
himself, had various calls to make on the shores of Lake Ontario.
Rocheblanc had already arranged to travel with Father Tabeau, the
diocesan inspector of missions, and the doctor very willingly joined
their party. The mission boat, unlike the birch canoes, was a
well-built, roomy craft paddled by eight or ten Indians--Cherokees and
Hurons--all of whom spoke Canadian-French fluently. The weather,
though cool, was far from severe, and as all three travellers had
frequent engagements ashore, these made welcome breaks in the
journey.
After Toronto was passed, the white stations became scarcer, and
villages inhabited by Indians more frequent; and, at the first of
these, the young army surgeon began to fear that the treachery so
often justly imputed to the redskins was going to betray itself.
Three of the Indians had asked leave to go ashore for a day's hunting,
and, as the meat supply had run short, Pere Tabeau was glad to let
them go, on the understanding that they were to await him that evening
at a spot below the next Indian village, at which he was to halt for a
few hours. Owing to some minor accident, it was well on in the
afternoon before the boat came in sight of the village, which stood at
the foot of a hill, immediately on the lake shore.
Two or three dozen Indians could be seen on a grassy space, engaged in
their national ball-play--a mixture of tennis, lacrosse, and Rugby
football, which will be more closely described in the next chapter. By
the goal nearest the water, the absent canoemen were standing, a
goodly heap of game piled at their feet. The moment they caught sight
of their boat they drew the attention of the players to it; these
immediately abandoned the game and, running to the farther goal,
picked up muskets and hastened with them towards the quay.
"This is something new," said Bigsby, "and I don't like the look of
it. For whom do they take us?" He took a pistol from his bag, and
Rocheblanc did the same; then, looking towards the bank again, they
saw that every redskin had pointed his gun-muzzle on the boat.
"I think it is only a salute," said the priest, "though I must confess
I have never been so honoured before. They are harmless, hard-working
men, and all know me perfectly well."
He had scarcely finished speaking when the guns began to go off in
twos and threes and sixes, anyhow, in fact. Then the surgeon put away
his pistol and laughed, for there was not a splash on the water
anywhere.
"The Father was right; it's only a salute. Do they often do this?" he
asked of the nearest of the canoemen. "I've not seen it before."
The Indian looked very knowing and mysterious, and, after a pause,
answered:
"It is a royal salute. They only fire like this for a great Iroquois
chief, or for a messenger from the white king."
Very soon another succession of reports came, the guns all the while
trained so accurately on the boat that even Bigsby, fresh from three
years' constant active service at the Cape, began earnestly to hope
that no one had, in the excitement of the moment, dropped a bullet
into a gun-muzzle by mistake. Before the muskets could be loaded a
third time the travellers were safely at the landing-stage.
At other Indian villages the doctor had noticed that the priest was
always subjected to lengthy greetings, speechifyings, and very
elaborate homage. The homage and the greetings were not absent to-day,
but they were of the hurried and perfunctory sort, for everyone, after
a word and an obeisance to his reverend fellow-traveller, turned to
Bigsby himself; and the old chief, coming forward with tremulous
respect, began to address a long oration to him, calling him the lord
of lakes and forests, the father of the red man, the slayer of beasts,
and a score of other titles; in short, "describing him ever so much
better than he knew himself," as John Ridd says. While he was
stammering out a suitable acknowledgment in French, the parish priest
came hurrying to greet his superior, and then the mystery was
explained, for Pere Tabeau introduced the lord of lakes, etc., to him
as plain "Surgeon Bigsby."
The old _cure_ laughed heartily.
"I understand. Your uniform is responsible for all this, monsieur.
Your boatmen had told us that an ambassador from the king was coming
with the Pere Superieur." He pointed at the doctor's regimental
coat.
"Then that is why all the canoemen have been so distant and servile
with me to-day," said the young surgeon. "I've not been able to get a
word out of them."
Usually he wore a perfectly plain, blue relief-jacket, but on this
particular morning he had donned a very old scarlet tunic, of the
dragoon regiment to which he belonged, merely because the day happened
to be too chilly for the thin serge jacket, and not cold enough for
him to trouble about unpacking a winter coat; and if this had raised
him in the canoemen's estimation, he had been quite unconscious of it.
As a matter of fact, when the Indians left the boat that morning, they
had already made of him a British potentate who was at last throwing
off his disguise, and this they honestly believed him to be; but,
before the morning was out, their imagination had run away with them
so far as to promote him to the rank of envoy extraordinary; in other
words, they had exaggerated, as more civilised people sometimes will,
for the sake of a little reflected greatness.
"Mr. Rocheblanc," said the doctor, "if you will lend me a spare coat
till I unpack to-night, I think I can sweeten that chief's declining
years."
A coat was soon produced, and, to the wonderment of the Indians,
Bigsby removed the old tunic which, with a grave bow, he begged the
old chief to accept as a memento. So great, indeed, was the surprise
of the redskins that the donor was in no danger of the contempt which
they might otherwise have shown for a broken idol--a daw despoiled of
its peacock's plumage. Such liberality was stupefying.
But the chief was not to be outdone in self-sacrifice. After a
tremendous struggle with himself he stifled his vanity and desire for
possession, and turning to the old parish priest, begged him to wear
the garment, as being more worthy of the honour; nor was it till he
was made to understand that, neither in nor out of church, would it be
seemly for the staid old clergyman to go flaunting in a cavalry
officer's scarlet and gold, that the chief would consent to wear it.
And then his appearance and his self-satisfaction were such that none
of the white men dared look at him for long, lest they should hurt the
dear old fellow's feelings by a burst of laughter.
The gift led to an invitation to dinner from the chief, so persistent
and impassioned that it was impossible for the visitors to refuse it,
though the _cure_ had a meal awaiting them at his presbytery. And now
the doctor was to achieve even greater popularity, for the _cure_, who
usually acted as village surgeon and herbalist, took the opportunity
of asking his advice in the case of a baby of one of the parishioners
that suffered from what seemed to be incurable fits. Bigsby at once
went to examine the child and recommended the application of a little
blistering lotion to the back of the neck; he sent to the boat for his
medicine-case, gave the _cure_ a small supply of the lotion, and
instructed him how to make more. This was, of course, the signal for
everyone in the village to require doctoring. Ailments were discovered
or invented with astonishing rapidity, and the whole time, till dinner
was ready, was occupied in feeling pulses, drawing teeth, lancing
abscesses, and salving sores. But if the surgeon had been a vain man,
the reverence paid to his skill would have been ample reward.
At last the white men were conducted in state to the chief's hut. The
dinner was laid on the floor, and mats and cushions arranged round it
in a circle; the two priests sat on the chief's right, the doctor and
Rocheblanc on his left, and his son opposite him, while the wife and
the daughter-in-law brought in, helped, and handed round the various
courses. The first of these was _sowete_, a really villainous
concoction of bruised sunflower seeds, _camash_ (a very insipid kind
of truffle), and the gristly parts of some fish-heads, all boiled
together to the consistency of porridge. Of this the guests ate
sparingly, and of the next course not at all, though it looked and
smelt so inviting that Bigsby and the fur-trader would have done full
justice to it, had it not been for a warning look from Pere Tabeau,
and the ejaculation of the single word "Puppy!" which was lost upon
the Indians, as they spoke only the Canadian _patois_ and their own
Iroquoian. The dish might have been a roasted hare; but Bigsby
suddenly recalled, with a shudder, having seen a fresh dog-skin spread
to dry on the outside wall of the hut. But the remaining courses were
unexceptionable: various fish, a kind of grouse, venison, and a right
good beefsteak to finish with.
The chief implored his guests to stay for at least one night, but the
mission superior had an appointment early the following day; and,
when he had inspected the parish books, all returned to the boat,
conducted by the red-habited chief. At the landing-stage the canoemen
were busy stowing away presents which half the parish had brought
down for the mighty medicine man: fruits of all kinds, small
cheeses, carvings on horn, bone, and wood, and--to Bigsby's great
delight--several lumps of nickel and copper ore and some bits of
gold quartz. These he knew were to be found in the vicinity,
though he had not yet succeeded in discovering them; and here were
valuable specimens which he might have spent weeks in trying to find.
As a good deal of time had been lost, no halt was made that night,
each man sleeping in the boat, where and when and how he could; and,
long before noon of the following day, the next stopping-place was
reached. This was a small fur-trading centre where Rocheblanc also had
affairs to transact; and he and Pere Tabeau went about their
respective business, agreeing to meet the doctor at the boat at three
o'clock.
Bigsby, having nothing special to do, explored the tiny settlement
and, strolling a mile inland, collected one or two geological
specimens. This occupation attracted a knot of Indian idlers, who
stood gaping at the childishness of a white man who could find nothing
better to do than picking stones off the road, throwing them down
again or putting them in his pocket, and varying these puerilities by
producing a hammer and knocking chips off unoffending wayside
boulders. Geologists and painters are too much accustomed to being
stared at, as marvels or lunatics, to heed such curiosity; and it was
not till he heard a strident voice in French, ordering the Indians to
go away, that he even troubled to turn his head.
"_Sales chiens_," "_salauds_," and "_sacres cochons_" were the mildest
terms that were being hurled at the simple redskins by an over-dressed
and much-bejewelled being whose European toilette could not conceal
the fact that he was a negro-Indian (or a Zambo, as he would have been
termed farther south), with possibly a streak of white blood in him.
"Out of the way, reptiles, redskinned animals," he shouted. "White
gentlemen don't want to be pestered by you," and pushing his way
roughly through the little crowd, he came and stood by the scientist,
bestowing on him a most princely bow and a gracious smile.
Now as Bigsby had not sought this very loud young man's acquaintance,
and wouldn't have had it at any price he could have offered him, he
took no notice of him beyond a civil nod, and returned to his task of
examining a chip of quartz with a pocket-lens. But the Zambo, having
established the fact that he was "somebody" in these parts by driving
away the shrinking natives, endeavoured to press on the doctor a card
that bore a string of names beginning with Cesar Auguste and ending
with the historic surname of de Valois. Convinced that the man was not
sober, and unwilling to be the centre of a disturbance, Bigsby turned
away with a curt "good morning" and followed the retreating Indians.
At three o'clock he returned to the boat. The others were already in
their places, and sitting next to Rocheblanc was a coloured person,
resplendent in white hat, fur-collared surtout, and an infinite
number of waistcoats, pins, brooches, chains, and rings; Dr. Bigsby's
acquaintance of a few hours before.
"I took the liberty of inviting Mr. de Valois to join us as far as the
next station, where he has business," said Rocheblanc, who, like the
Indians, seemed more or less in awe of the stranger. Bigsby concealed
his annoyance and comforted himself with the reflection that the next
station would be reached in less than three hours' time. It turned out
that the fellow was a millionaire fur-buyer, with whom Rocheblanc had
often done business and wished to do more, and who, from his great
size, his wealth, his powers of bullying, and his pretensions to white
blood, was a terror to all the more civilised Indians. To the doctor,
as a "king's officer," he condescended to be more friendly than was
desired; but his manner towards the two Canadians was insufferably
patronising, while a curse or a kick was the sole form of notice he
could spare for the canoemen, and that only when they happened to
splash him. Father Tabeau and the doctor pocketed their disgust as
well as they could, and Rocheblanc endeavoured to hold his guest
tightly down to business conversation. The worst of it was that the
canoemen, though strong, able fellows, seemed fascinated by their fear
of him, and had it not been still broad daylight, a serious accident
might have happened to the boat. Even as it was, the men paddled
nervously and irregularly, more than once getting her into a
crosscurrent, and growing only more frightened and helpless as the
half-breed became noisier and more abusive.
[Illustration: A BULLY WELL SERVED
The over-dressed Zambo, after bullying the canoemen to the verge of
mutiny, was ordered by Bigsby to leave the canoe. The bully clenched his
fist, but Bigsby planted a powerful blow on his throat, and sent him
right over the gunwale.]
"There'll be trouble if we're not careful, Father," said Bigsby in
English, now at the end of his patience. "If you'll allow me I'll try
and get rid of him."
He made a sign to the Indians to pull sharply in, which Mr. de
Valois did not perceive. But, when the confused redskins suddenly
ran the boat among a number of projecting stakes, where an old
landing-stage had been broken up, the Zambo, splashed and shaken,
began to behave like a maniac. He jumped up, cane in hand, and
lashed the three nearest Indians savagely over the head and face,
swearing, gesticulating, and threatening till the doctor was minded
to pitch him into the water straight away.
"Steady her; hold by those stakes," he cried to the men in the bow,
who, being farthest from the stick, were the coolest. Then, throwing
himself between the half-breed and the canoemen, he said, "There's one
redskin too many here, my man, and I think _you'd_ better clear out,"
and at the same time he wrenched the stick from his hand and flung it
on shore.
The bully clenched his fist, but again Bigsby was too quick for him,
and planted a powerful blow neatly under his throat; he staggered,
tried to steady himself, and, in so doing, toppled clean over the
gunwale.
"All right; push off," said Bigsby coolly. "He's got plenty to catch
hold of there."
The water was still fairly deep, but the stakes were so numerous that
even a non-swimmer could be in no danger. The boat was soon in clear
water again, and Caesar Augustus could now be seen--a truly pitiable
figure--helping himself ashore from stump to stump, a sadder if not a
wiser man.
Bigsby never had the felicity of seeing him again, but he heard, some
months later, that his power over the redskins was very much
diminished, and that he had grown considerably less ready to domineer
over the race which certainly had more claim to him than any other.