FALL THROUGH THE ICE--DANGEROUS ADVENTURE AT A RAPID--OPPONENTS GIVE
IN--ORDERED TO LA CHINE--TREATMENT ON MY ARRIVAL--MANNERS, HABITS,
AND SUPERSTITIONS OF THE INDIANS--FEROCIOUS REVENGE OF A SUPPOSED
INJURY--DIFFERENT METHODS OF THE ROMAN CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT
MISSIONARY--INDIAN COUNCILS--TRADITION OF THE FLOOD--BEAVER-HUNTING--
LANGUAGE.
Finding that my presence was more wanted at the outpost than
elsewhere, I resolved on taking up my residence there for the winter
1831-32. Our active opponent gave us much annoyance, causing great
expense to the Company, without any benefit to himself; on the
contrary, it ultimately ruined him.
While accompanying our party on a trading excursion in the beginning
of winter, I had a very narrow escape. We were travelling on the
Gatineau, a very rapid stream that joins the Ottawa, a little below
Hull. A young lad, interpreter to the opposition, and I, had one
morning gone considerably in advance of the others, walking smartly
to keep ourselves warm, when I suddenly broke through the ice. The
current here running strong, I should soon have been swept under the
ice, had I not, by extending my arms upon it on either side of me,
kept my head above water. At the hazard of his own life, my companion
came to my assistance; but the ice was too weak to admit of his
approaching sufficiently near to reach me his hand; he therefore cut a
long pole, and tying his belt to it, threw it to me; and laying hold
of it, I dragged myself on the sound ice. But the danger was not yet
over; the weather was intensely cold, so that my clothes were soon
frozen solid upon me, and having no means of lighting a fire, I ran
into the woods; and in order to keep my body from being frozen into
the same mass with my clothes, continued running up and down with all
my might, till the rest of the party arrived.
I had a still more narrow escape in the month of March ensuing. I had
been on a visit to the post under my own immediate charge, termed
head-quarters _par excellence_; returning to the post alone, I came to
a place where our men, in order to avoid a long detour occasioned by a
high and steep hill coming close to the river, were accustomed to draw
their sledges upon the ice along the edge of a rapid. About the middle
of the rapid, where the torrent is fiercest, the banks of the river
are formed of rocks rising almost perpendicularly from the water's
edge; and here they had to pass on a narrow ledge of ice, between the
rock on the one side, and the foaming and boiling surge on the other.
The ledge, at no time very broad, was now reduced, by the falling in
of the water, to a strip of ice of about eighteen inches, or little
more, adhering to the rock. The ice, however, seemed perfectly solid,
and I made no doubt that, with caution, I should succeed in passing
safely this formidable strait.
The weather having been very mild in the fore-part of the day, my
shoes and socks had been saturated with wet, but were now frozen hard
by the cold of the approaching night. Overlooking this circumstance,
I attempted the dangerous passage; and had proceeded about halfway,
when my foot slipped, and I suddenly found myself resting with one hip
on the border of ice, while the rest of my body overhung the rapid
rushing fearfully underneath. I was now literally in a state of
agonizing suspense: to regain my footing was impossible; even the
attempt to move might precipitate me into the rapid.
My first thought indeed was to throw myself in, and endeavour by
swimming to reach the solid ice that bridged the river a short
distance below; a glance at the torrent convinced me that this was a
measure too desperate to be attempted;--I should have been dashed
against the ice, or hurried beneath it by the current. But my time was
not yet come. Within a few feet of the spot where I was thus suspended
_in sublimis_, the rock projected a little outward, so as to break
the force of the current. It struck me that a new border of ice
might be formed at this place, under and parallel to that on which
I was perched; exploring cautiously, therefore, with a stick which
I fortunately had in my hand, all along and beneath me, I found my
conjecture well founded; but whether the ice were strong enough
to bear me, I could not ascertain. But it was my only hope of
deliverance; letting myself down therefore gently, I planted my feet
on the lower ledge, and clinging with the tenacity of a shell-fish to
the upper, I crept slowly along till I reached land.
This autumn, I had the satisfaction of seeing all my opponents quit
the field, some of whom had maintained a long and obstinate struggle;
yet, although I had reason to congratulate myself on their departure,
as it promised me relief from the painfully toilsome life I had led,
I must do one of the parties, at least, the justice to say, that, in
different circumstances, I should have beheld their departure with
regret. Dey and McGillivray carried on the contest longer than the
others, and did so without showing any of that rancorous feeling which
the other petty traders manifested towards the Company. MacGillivray
and myself, when travelling together, often shared the same blanket,
and the same kettle; and found, that while this friendly feeling was
mutually advantageous to ourselves, it did not in any way compromise
the interests of our employers. I parted from him, wishing him every
success in _any other_ line of business he might engage in.
After the removal of my competitors, I found the time to hang heavily
on my hands; and the ease I had so often sighed for, I now could
scarcely endure; but I was not allowed long time to sigh for a change.
On the 5th of April an Iroquois came up from Montreal with a packet
conveying orders to me to proceed forthwith to Lachine, whence I
should embark by the opening of the navigation for the northern
department. I was alone at the post when these unexpected orders came
to hand, all the men being absent at the outpost; and as it behoved me
to use the utmost diligence in order to get away ere winter travelling
should break up, leaving an old squaw in charge, I set out for the
outpost in quest of Mr. Cameron, who was appointed my successor; and
on the 7th of April took my departure.
On arriving at the Grand River, I found travelling on the ice to
be attended with great danger, and several accidents had already
happened; but I had the good fortune to reach Grenville at the head
of the Long Sault in safety; here, however, my farther progress was
arrested for a fortnight, the roads being impassable. I arrived at
Lachine in the end of April, and after handing in the documents
relative to my late charge, Mr. K---- toldme I was at liberty to spend
the intervening time until the embarkation, where and how I pleased.
Gratified by this indulgence, I was about to frame a speech expressive
of my gratitude, when he continued,--"for, Sir, you are to understand
we do not keep a boarding-house here." This stopped my mouth, and I
reserved my thanks for a future occasion; for I could not but feel,
that being an officer of the Company, it was robbing me of a part of
my pay under the pretext of an indulgence. Availing myself, however,
of this ungenerous grant of freedom, I spent some halcyon days in the
company of relatives most dear to me, and expected no interruption to
my enjoyment until the time appointed for the embarkation: but a few
days after I had joined my relatives in the vicinity of Montreal, I
received a letter, commanding me, in the most peremptory manner, to
repair to Lachine,--"circumstances not foreseen at my arrival from the
interior required my departure without further delay." I accompanied
the bearer of Mr. K----'s letter, and found, on arriving at Lachine,
that I had been appointed to conduct some of Captain Back's party, who
proved rather troublesome to him at Montreal, to the Chats, and there
to await my passage to the north by the Brigade.
I had now served the Hudson's Bay Company faithfully and zealously
for a period of twelve years, leading a life of hardship and toil,
of which no idea can be formed except by those whose hard lot it may
be to know it by experience. How enthusiastically I had laboured for
them, may be better gathered from the foregoing narrative than from
any statement I could here make. And what was my reward? I had no
sooner succeeded in freeing my district from opposition, than I was
ordered to resign my situation to another, who would enjoy the fruits
of my labour:--when I arrived at the Company's head-quarters to take
my departure for a remote district, I was ordered to provide for
myself until I embarked; and when enjoying myself in the bosom of my
family, to suit the convenience of one of their correspondents, I was
torn away from them prematurely, and without warning,--treatment,
which caused one of them so severe a shock as nearly to prove fatal!
Before I take leave of the Montreal department, it may be well to
allude more particularly to the manners and customs of the natives.
The mode of life the Algonquins lead, while at their village, has been
already touched upon; within these few years a great change has taken
place, not in their morals, but in their circumstances. The southern
and western parts of their hunting-grounds are now nearly all
possessed by the white man, whose encroachments extend farther and
farther every year. Beaver meadows are now to be found in place of
beaver dams; and rivers are crossed on bridges formed by the hand of
man, where the labours of the beaver afforded a passage for the roving
Indian and hunter only a few years before.
Happy change, it may be said; but so say not the Indians; the days
of happiness are gone for them, at least for those of the present
generation; though I have no doubt that their posterity may, in course
of time, become reconciled to, and adopt those habits of life which
their altered circumstances may require. A few have done so already,
but many of them still remain on the most remote parts of their lauds,
having no longer the means of enjoying themselves at their village, or
of satisfying the avarice of priests and traders. Here they pursue,
without restraint or interruption, the mode of life most congenial to
their habits.
I have already observed, that I could discover but little difference
between the (so called) Christian Indians, and their unbaptized
countrymen, when beyond the surveillance of their priests. They
practise all the superstitious rites of their forefathers, and place
implicit confidence in the power of magic, although they admit that
the same results cannot be obtained now, as formerly, in consequence,
as they say, "of the Cross having come in contact with the Medicine."
They have their genii of lakes, rivers, mountains, and forests, to
whom they offer sacrifice. I was present at the sacrifice of a
beaver, made by an Algonquin to his familiar, or "totem," in order
to propitiate him, because he had been unsuccessful in hunting.
The beaver was roasted without being skinned, the fur only being
appropriated to the spirit, whilst the flesh afforded a luxurious
feast to the sacrificer; and in this part of the ceremony I willingly
participated.
When any of them is taken ill, the indisposition is ascribed to the
effects of "bad medicine;" and the person is mentioned whom they
suspect of having laid the disease upon them. Many violent deeds are
committed to revenge these supposed injuries. An Algonquin, who had
lost a child, blamed a _tête de boule_, who was domiciled at Lac de
Sable, for his death. The ensuing spring the _tête de boule_ took a
fancy to visit the Lake of Two Mountains, and set off in company with
the Algonquins.
On arrival of the party at the Grand River, he who had lost his child
invited the _tête de boule_ to his tent, and entertained him in the
most friendly manner for a time, then suddenly drawing his knife, he
plunged it into the side of his unsuspecting guest. The poor wretch
fled, and concealed himself in a pig-sty, where his groans soon
discovered him to the Algonquin, who, again seizing him, thrust his
knife into his throat, and did not withdraw it until he ceased to
live.
"Now," exclaimed his murderer, "I am avenged for the death of my
child. You wanted to go to the Lake to be baptized, and here I have
baptized you in your own blood."
Many other instances might be adduced to prove that the savage
disposition of these Indians has not been greatly ameliorated by their
profession of Christianity; they have, in fact, all the vices with but
few of the virtues of their heathen countrymen.
They are immoderately fond of ardent spirits, men, women and--shocking
to say--children. This hateful vice, which contributes more than any
other to the debasement of human nature, seems to produce more baneful
effects upon the Indian, both physically and morally, than upon the
European. The worst propensities of his nature are excited by it.
While under the influence of this demon he spares neither friend nor
foe; and in many instances the members of his own family become the
victims either of his fury or his lust.
The crime of incest is by no means unknown among them; rum, the
greatest scourge and curse of the Indian race, is undoubtedly the
principal cause of this dreadful corruption: but is it not strange
that religion should have so little effect in reforming their manners?
The Mississagays, the neighbours of the Algonquins, who speak the same
language, were only converted a few years ago by the Methodists, and
from being the most dissipated and depraved of Indians, are now become
sober, industrious and devout.
It seems, therefore, impossible even for the most unprejudiced to
avoid the conclusion that the difference in manners must in a great
measure be ascribed to the different methods adopted by the Roman
Catholic and Protestant missionaries in converting the natives. The
Roman Catholic convert is first baptized, then instructed in the forms
of worship, taught to repeat Pater nosters and Ave Marias, to make the
sign of the cross, and to confess. He is now a member of the Church,
and is dismissed to his woods--a Christian, can we say? The Methodists
pursue a different course. Their converts must not only reform their
lives, but give indubitable proofs that they are reformed; they
are taught so as to understand thoroughly the sound principles of
Christianity; and they must give an account of their faith, and a
reason for the hope that is in them, before they are admitted as
members of the Christian community. "The tree is known by its fruits."
The Sachems, or chiefs of the Algonquins, possess little or no
authority, but their advice is of some weight There are gradations of
rank in the chieftainship; the Kitchi Okima, or great chief, takes
precedence at the Council, and propounds the subject of discussion;
the inferior chiefs (Okimas) speak in turn, according to seniority;
every old man, however, whether chief or not, is allowed to give his
opinion, and the general voice of the assembly decides the question at
issue. It is seldom, however, that any question arises requiring much
deliberation in the present times of peace. When a party of strange
Indians arrives at the village, a council is called to ascertain the
means the community may possess of discharging properly the rites of
hospitality; each individual states the modicum he is willing to
contribute, in cash or in kind, and the proceeds, which are always
sufficient to entertain the guests sumptuously, according to Indian
ideas, while they remain, are placed at the disposal of the Kitchi
Okima.
Councils are held and harangues delivered when they receive their
annual presents from Government; these consist of blankets, cloth,
ammunition, and a variety of small articles, all of which in their
present impoverished state are highly valued by them. They profess an
attachment to the British Government; but, like certain more civilized
nations, they will fight for the cause that is likely to yield them
most advantage. Their loyalty to Britain, therefore, is less to be
depended on than their hatred to America. A general idea has gone
abroad regarding their taciturnity which does not accord with my
experience. Far from being averse to colloquial intercourse, they
delight in it; none more welcome to an Indian wigwam than one who
can talk freely. They pass the winter evenings in relating their
adventures, hunting being their usual theme, or in telling stories;
and often have I heard the woods resound with peals of laughter
excited by their wit, for they too are witty in their own way.
Their tradition of the flood (_kitchi a tesoka_, or "great tale,") is
somewhat remarkable. The world having been overflowed by water, all
mankind perished but one family, who embarked in a large canoe, taking
a variety of animals along with them. The canoe floated about for some
time, when a musk-rat, tired of its confinement, jumped overboard and
dived; it soon reappeared, with a mouthful of mud, which it deposited
on the surface of the water, and from this beginning the new world was
formed.
When the veracity of an Indian is doubted, he points to heaven with
his forefinger, and exclaims:--
"He to whom we belong knows that what I say is true."
No white man trusts more firmly in the validity of a solemn oath than
the Indian in this asseveration. Still it must be confessed that they
are prone to falsehood; but they seem to allow themselves a much
greater licence in this respect in their intercourse with the whites
than amongst themselves.
When an Indian is about to enter a wigwam, he utters the word or sound
"Quay" in a peculiar tone; the word repeated from within is considered
as an invitation to enter. Should he neglect to announce himself
in this way he is considered as ill-bred--an unmannerly boor. The
left-hand side of the wigwam as you enter is considered the place
of honour; here the father of the family and chief squaw take their
station, the young men on the opposite side, and the women next to the
door, or at the upper end of the fire-place, both ends being alike
plebeian. When a person of respectability enters, the father, moving
towards the door, resigns his place to his guest, places skins under
him, and otherwise pays every attention to his comfort. They are
extremely hospitable, and cheerfully share their last morsel with the
stranger who may be in want. Hospitality, however, is a virtue which
civilization rarely improves.
A good hunter always leaves his lodge by dawn of day, and seldom
tastes food till he returns late at night. Hunting beavers is a most
laborious occupation, and becomes more so in proportion to the
scarcity of these animals; for this reason, that when a great number
of beavers occupy a lake, their places of retreat are in closer
proximity to each other, and for the most part inhabited; if the
number be reduced, it is likely they will have the same places of
retreat, and the hunter must bore through the ice, before he can
ascertain whether they are inhabited or not.
The sagacity of their dogs is truly surprising. The beaver house being
first destroyed by the hunter, the dogs are urged by a peculiar call
to scent out their retreats, which they never fail to do, whatever
may be the thickness of the ice. They keep running about the borders
of the lake, their noses close to the ground, and the moment they
discover a retreat, begin to bark and jump on the ice; the hunter then
cuts a hole with his trench, and with a stick which he carries along
with him feels for the beaver; should he find one, he introduces his
bare arm into the hole, and seizing his prey by the tail, drags it out
on the ice, where it is dispatched with a spear. There is less danger
in this operation than one would imagine, for the beaver allows itself
to be seized without a struggle, but sometimes inflicts severe wounds
on his captor after he is taken out of the water.
When the retreat is not inhabited, the entrance to it is barred by
sticks, and the hunter proceeds to chisel again, and continues his
operations until the beaver is either taken, or shut out from all his
haunts, in which case he is compelled to return to the house to take
breath, where he is either shot or caught in a trap.
The language of these Indians is a dialect of the Sauteux or Bungee,
intermixed with Cree, and a few words of French derivation. The
greater part of them have a smattering of French or English; but the
acquisition of a foreign language is extremely difficult to them,
from the peculiar formation of their own, which wants the letter r.
An Algonquin pronounces the word "marrow" "manno" or "mallo." Their
dialect has all the softness of the Italian, but is extremely poor and
defective.