Running the Gauntlet--Across the Line--Mischief ahead-Preparations--A
Night March--The Steamer captured--The Pursuit-Daylight--The Lower
Fort--The Red-Indian at last--The Chief's Speech--A Big Feed--Making
ready for the Winnipeg--A Delay--I visit Fort Garry--Mr. President
Riel--The Final Start-Lake Winnipeg--The First Night out--My Crew.
THE steamer "International" made only a short delay at the frontier post
of Pembina, but it was long enough to impress the on-looker with a sense
of dirt and debauchery, which seemed to pervade the place. Some of the
leading citizens came forth with hands stuck so deep in breeches'
pockets, that the shoulders seemed to have formed an offensive and
defensive alliance with the arms, never again to permit the hands to
emerge into daylight unless it should be in the vicinity of the ankles.
Upon inquiring for the post-office, I was referred to the Postmaster
himself, who, in his-capacity of leading citizen, was standing by. Asking
if there were any letters lying at his office for me, I was answered in a
very curt negative, the postmaster retiring immediately up the steep bank
towards the collection of huts which calls itself Pembina. The boat soon
cast off her moorings and steamed on into British territory. We were at
length within the limits of the Red River Settlement, in the land of M.
Louis Riel, President, Dictator, Ogre, Saviour of Society, and New
Napoleon; as he was variously named by friends and foes in the little
tea-cup of Red River whose tempest had cast him suddenly from dregs to
surface. "I wasn't so sure that they wouldn't have searched the boat for
you," said the captain from his wheel-house on the roof-deck, soon after
we had passed the Hudson Bay Company's post, whereat M. Riel's frontier
guard was supposed to hold its head-quarters. "Now, darn me, if them
whelps had stopped the boat, but I'd have just rounded her back to
Pembina and tied up under the American post yonder, and claimed
protection as an American citizen." As the act of tying up under the
American post would in no way have forwarded my movements, however
consolatory it might have proved to the wounded feelings of the captain,
I was glad that we had been permitted to proceed without molestation. But
I had in my possession a document which I looked upon as an "open sesame"
in case of obstruction from any of the underlings of the Provisional
Government.
This document had been handed to me by an eminent ecclesiastic whom I met
on the evening preceding my departure at St. Paul, and who, upon hearing
that it was my intention to proceed to the Red River, had handed me,
unsolicited, a very useful notification. So far, then, I had got within
the outer circle of this so jealously protected settlement. The guard,
whose presence had so often been the theme of Manitoban journals, the
picquet line which extended from Pembina Mountain to Lake of the Woods
(150 miles), was nowhere visible, and I. began to think that the whole
thing was only a myth, and that the Red River revolt was as unsubstantial
as the Spectre of the Brocken. But just then, as I stood on the high roof
of the "International," from whence a wide view was obtained, I saw
across the level prairie outside the huts of Pembina the figures of two
horsemen riding at a rapid pace towards the north. They were on the road
to Fort Garry. The long July day passed slowly away, and evening began to
darken over the level land, to find us still steaming down the widening
reaches of the Red River.
But the day had shown symptoms sufficient to convince me that there was
some reality after all in the stories of detention and resistance, so
frequently mentioned; more than once had the figures of the two horsemen
been visible from the roof-deck of the steamer, still keeping the Fort
Garry trail, and still forcing their horses at a gallop.
The windings of the river enabled these men to keep ahead of the boat, a
feat which, from their pace and manner, seemed the object they had in
view. But there were other indications of difficulty lying ahead: an
individual connected with the working of our boat had been informed by
persons at Pembina that my expected arrival had been notified to Mr.
President Riel and the members of his triumvirate, as I would learn to my
cost upon arrival at Fort Garry.
That there was mischief ahead appeared probable enough, and it was with
no pleasant feelings that when darkness came I mentally surveyed the
situation, and bethought me of some plan by which to baffle those who
sought my detention.
In an hour's time the boat would reach Fort Garry. I was a stranger in a
strange land, knowing not a feature in the locality, and with only an
imperfect map for my guidance. Going down to my cabin, I spread out the
map before me. I saw the names: of places familiar in imagination--the
winding river, the junction of the Assineboine and the Red River, and
close to it Fort Garry and the village of Winnipeg; then, twenty miles
farther to the north, the Lower Fort Garry and the Scotch and English
Settlement. My object was to reach this lower fort; but in that lay all
the difficulty. The map showed plainly enough the place in which safety
lay; but it showed no means by which it could be reached, and left me, as
before, to my own resources. These were not large.
My baggage was small and compact, but weighty; for it had in it much shot
and sporting gear for perspective swamp and prairie work at wild duck and
sharp-tailed grouse. I carried arms available against man and beast a
Colt's six-shooter and a fourteen-shot repeating carbine, both light,
good, and trusty; excellent weapons when things came to a certain point,
but useless before that point is reached.
Now, amidst perplexing prospects and doubtful expedients, one course
appeared plainly prominent; and that was that there should be no capture
by Riel. The baggage and the sporting gear might go, but, for the rest,
I was bound to carry myself and my arms, together with my papers and a
dog, to the Lower Fort and English Settlement. Having decided on this
course, I had not much time to lose in putting it into execution. I
packed my things, loaded my arms, put some extra ammunition into pocket,
handed over my personal effects into the safe custody of the captain, and
awaited whatever might turn up.
When these preparations were completed, I had still an hour to spare.
There happened to be on board the same boat as passenger a gentleman
whose English proclivities had marked him during the late disturbances at
Red River as a dangerous opponent to M. Riel, and who consequently had
forfeited no small portion of his liberty and his chattels. The last two
days had made me acquainted-with his history and opinions, and, knowing
that he could supply the want I was most in need of--a horse--I told him
the plan I had formed for evading M. Ril, in case his minions should
attempt my capture. This was to pass quickly from the steamboat on its
reaching the landing-place and to hold my way across the country in the
direction of the Lower Fort, which I hoped to reach before daylight. If
stopped, there was but one course to pursue--to announce name and
profession, and trust to the Colt and sixteen-shooter for the rest. My
new acquaintance, however, advised a change of programme, suggested by
his knowledge of the locality.
At the point of junction of the Assineboine and Red Rivers the steamer,
he said, would touch the north shore. The spot was only a couple of
hundred yards distant from Fort Garry, but it was sufficient in the
darkness to conceal any movement at that point; we would both leave the
boat and, passing by the flank of the fort, gain the village of Winnipeg
before the steamer would reach her landing place; he would seek his home
and, if possible, send a horse to meet me at the first wooden bridge upon
the road to the Lower Fort. All this was simple enough, and supplied me
with that knowledge of the ground which I required.
It was now eleven o'clock p.m., dark but fine. With my carbine concealed
under a large coat, I took my station near the bows of the boat, watching
my companion's movements. Suddenly the steam was shut off, and the boat
began to round from the Red River into the narrow Assineboine. A short
distance in front appeared lights and figures moving to and fro along the
shore--the lights were those of Fort Garry, the figures those of Riel,
O'Donoghue, and Lepine, with a strong body of guards.
A second more, and the boat gently touched the soft mud of the north
shore. My friend jumped off to the beach; dragging the pointer by chain
and collar after me, I too, sprang to the shore just as the boat began to
recede from it. As I did so, I saw my companion rushing up a very steep
and lofty bank. Much impeded by the arms and dog, I followed him up the
ascent and reached the top. Around stretched a dead black level plain, on
the left the fort, and figures were dimly visible about 200 yards away.
There was not much time to take in all this, for my companion, whispering
me to follow him closely, commenced to move quickly along an irregular
path which led from the river bank. In a short time we: had reached the
vicinity of a few straggling houses whose white walls showed distinctly
through the darkness; this, he told me, was Winnipeg. Here was his
residence, and here we were to separate. Giving me a few hurried
directions for further guidance, he pointed to the road before me as a
starting-point, and then vanished into the gloom. For a moment I stood at
the entrance of the little village half irresolute what to do. One or two
houses showed lights in single windows, behind gleamed the lights of the
steamer which had now reached the place of landing. I commenced to walk
quickly through the silent houses.
As I emerged from the farther side of the village I saw, standing on the
centre of the road, a solitary figure. Approaching nearer to him, I found
that he occupied a narrow wooden bridge which opened out upon the
prairie. To pause or hesitate would only be to excite suspicion in the
mind of this man, sentinel or guard, as he might be. So, at a sharp pace,
I advanced towards him. He never moved; and without word or sign I passed
him at arm's length. But here the dog, which I had unfastened when
parting from my companion, strayed away, and, being loth to lose him, I
stopped at the farther end of the bridge to call him back. This was
evidently the bridge of which my companion had spoken, as the place where
I was to await the horse he would send me.
The trysting-place seemed to be but ill-chosen-close to the village, and
already in possession of a sentinel, it would not do. "If the horse
comes," thought I, "he will be too late; if he does not come, there can
be no use in waiting," so, giving a last whistle for the dog (which I
never saw again), I turned and held my way into the dark level plain
lying mistily spread around me. For more than an hour I walked hard along
a black-clay track bordered on both sides by prairie. I saw no one, and
heard nothing save the barking of some stray dogs away to my right.
During this time the moon, now at its last quarter, rose above trees to
the east, and enabled me better to discern the general features of the
country through which I was passing. Another hour passed, and still I
held on my way. I had said to myself that for three hours I must keep up
the same rapid stride without pause or halt. In the meantime I was
calculating for emergencies. If followed on horseback, I must become
aware of the fact while yet my enemies were some distance away. The black
capote flung on the road would have arrested their attention, the
enclosed fields on the right of the track would afford me concealment, a
few shots from the fourteen shooter fired in the direction of the party,
already partly dismounted deliberating over the mysterious capote, would
have occasioned a violent demoralization, probably causing a rapid
retreat upon Fort Garry, darkness would have multiplied numbers, and a
fourteen-shooter by day or night is a weapon of very equalizing
tendencies.
When the three hours had elapsed I looked anxiously around for water, as
I was thirsty in the extreme. A creek soon gave me the drink I thirsted
for, and, once more refreshed, I kept on my lonely way beneath the waning
moon. At the time when I was searching for water along the bottom of the
Middle Creek my pursuers were close at hand--probably not five minutes
distant--but in those things it is the minutes which make all the
difference one way or the other.
We must now go back and join the pursuit, just to see what the followers
of M. Riel were about.
Sometime during the afternoon preceding the arrival of the steamer at
Fort Garry, news had come down by mounted express from Pembina, that a
stranger was about to make his entrance into Red River.
Who he might be was not clearly discernible; some said he was an officer
in Her Majesty's Service, and others, that he was somebody connected
with the disturbances of the preceding winter who was attempting to
revisit the settlement.
Whoever he was, it was unanimously decreed that he should be captured;
and a call was made by M. Riel for "men not afraid to fight" who would
proceed up the river to meet the steamer. Upon after-reflection, however,
it was resolved to await the arrival of the boat, and, by capturing
captain, crew, and passengers, secure the person of the mysterious
stranger.
Accordingly, when the "International" reached the landing-place beneath
the walls of Fort Garry a strange scene was enacted.
Messrs. Riel, Lepine, and O'Donoghue, surrounded by a body-guard of
half-breeds and a few American adventurers, appeared upon the
landing-place. A select detachment, I presume, of the "men not afraid to
fight'" boarded the boat and commenced to ransack her from stem to stern.
While the confusion was at its height, and doors, etc., were being broken
open, it became known to some of the searchers that two persons had left
the boat only a few minutes previously. The rage of the petty Napoleon
became excessive, he sarcéed and stamped and swore, he ordered pursuit on
foot and on horseback; and altogether conducted himself after the manner
of rum-drunkenness and despotism based upon ignorance and "straight
drinks."
All sorts of persons were made prisoners upon the spot. My poor companion
was seized in his house twenty minutes after he had reached it, and,
being hurried to the boat, was threatened with instant hanging. Where had
the stranger gone to? and who was he? He had asserted himself to belong
to Her Majesty's Service, and he had gone to the Lower Fort.
"After him!" screamed the President; "bring him in dead or alive."
So some half-dozen men, half-breeds and American filibusters, started out
in pursuit. It was averred that the man who left the boat was of
colossal proportions, that he carried arms of novel and terrible
construction, and, more mysterious still, that he was closely followed by
a gigantic dog.
People shuddered as they listened to this part of the story-a dog of
gigantic size! What a picture, this immense man and that immense
dog--stalking through the gloom-wrapped prairie, goodness knows where!
Was it to be wondered at, that the pursuit, vigorously though it
commenced, should have waned faint as it reached the dusky prairie and
left behind the neighbourhood and the habitations of men? The party,
under the leadership of Lepine the "Adjutant-general," was seen at one
period of its progress besides the moments of starting and return. Just
previous to daybreak it halted at a house known by the suggestive title
of "Whisky Tom's," eight miles from the village of Winnipeg; whether it
ever got farther on its way remains a mystery, but I am inclined to
think that the many attractions of Mr. Tom's residence, as evinced by
the prefix to his name, must have proved a powerful obstacle to such
thirsty souls.
Daylight breaks early in the month of July, and I had been but little
more than three hours on the march when the first sign of dawn began to
glimmer above the tree tops of the Red River. When the light became
strong enough to afford a clear view of the country, I found that I was
walking along a road or track of very black soil with poplar groves at
intervals on each side.
Through openings in these poplar groves I beheld a row of houses built
apparently along the bank of the river, and soon the steeple of a church
and a comfortable-looking glebe became visible about a quarter of a mile
to the right. Calculating by my watch, I concluded that I must be some
sixteen miles distant from Fort Garry, and therefore not more than four
miles from the Lower Fort. However, as it was now quite light, I thought'
I could not do better than approach the comfortable-looking glebe with a
double view towards refreshment and information. I reached the gate and,
having run the gauntlet of an evilly-intentioned dog, pulled a bell at
the door.
Now it had never occurred to me that my outward appearance savoured not a
little of the bandit--a poet has written about "the dark Suliote, in his
shaggy capote" etc., conveying the idea of a very ferocious-looking fellow
but I believe that my appearance fully realized the description, as far
as outward semblance was concerned; so, evidently, thought the worthy
clergyman when, cautiously approaching his hall-door, he beheld through
the glass window the person whose reiterated ringing had summoned him
hastily from his early slumbers. Half opening his door, he inquired my
business.
"How far," asked I, "to the Lower Fort?"
"About four miles."
"Any conveyance thither?"
"None whatever."
He was about to close the door in my face, when I inquired his country,
and he replied, "I am English."
"And I am an English officer, arrived last night in the Red River, and
now making my way to the Lower Fort."
Had my appearance been ten times more disreputable than it was, had I
carried a mitrailleuse instead of a fourteen-shooter, I would have been
still received with open arms after that piece of information was given
and received. The door opened very wide and the worthy clergyman's hand
shut very close. Then suddenly there became apparent many facilities for
reaching the Lower Fort not before visible, nor was the hour deemed too
early to preclude all thoughts of refreshment.
It was some time before my host could exactly realize the state of
affairs, but when he did, his horse and buggy were soon in readiness, and
driving along the narrow road which here led almost uninterruptedly
through little clumps and thickets of poplars, we reached the Lower Fort
Garry not very long after the sun had begun his morning work of making
gold the forest summits. I had run the gauntlet of the lower settlement;
I was between the Expedition and its destination, and it was time to lie
down and rest.
Up to this time no intimation had reached the Lower Fort of pursuit by
the myrmidons of M. Riel. But soon there came intelligence. A farmer
carrying corn to the mill in the fort had been stopped by a party of men
some seven miles away, and questioned as to his having seen a stranger;
others had also seen the mounted scouts. And so while I slept the sleep
of the tired my worthy host was receiving all manner of information
regarding the movements of the marauders who were in quest of his
sleeping guest.
I may have been asleep some two hours, when I became aware of a hand laid
on my shoulder and a voice whispering something into my ear. Rousing
myself from a very deep sleep, I beheld the Hudson Bay officer in charge
of the fort standing by the bed repeating words which failed at first to
carry any meaning along with them.
"The French are after you," he reiterated.
"The French"-where was I, in France?
I had been so sound asleep, that it took some seconds to gather up-the
different threads of thought where I had left them off a few hours
before, and "the French" was at that time altogether a new name in my
ears for the Red River natives. "The French are after you!" altogether it
was not an agreeable prospect to open my eyes upon, tired, exhausted, and
sleepy as I was. But, under the circumstances, breakfast seemed the best
preparation for the siege, assault, and general battery which, according
to all the rules of war, ought to have followed the announcement of the
Gallic Nationality being in full pursuit of me.
Seated at breakfast, and doing full justice to a very excellent mutton
chop and cup of Hudson Bay Company Souchong (and where does there exist
such tea; out of China?), I heard a digest of the pursuit from the lips
of my host. The French had visited him in his fort once before with evil
intentions, and they might come again, so he proposed that we should
drive down to the Indian Settlement, where the ever-faithful Ojibbeways
would, if necessary, roll back the tide of Gallic pursuit, giving the
pursuers a reception in which Pahaouza-tau-ka, or "The Great
Scalp-taker," would play a prominent part.
Breakfast over, a drive of eight miles brought us to the mission of the
Indian Settlement presided over by Archdeacon Cowley.
Here, along the last few miles of the Red River ere it seeks, through
many channels, the waters of Lake Winnipeg, dwell the remnants of the
tribes whose fathers in times gone by claimed the broad lands of the Red
River; now clothing themselves, after the fashion of the white man, in
garments and in religion, and learning a few of his ways and dealings,
but still with many wistful hankerings towards the older era of the paint
and feathers, of the medicine bag and the dream omen.
Poor red man of the great North-west, I am at last in your land! Long as
I have been hearing of you and your wild doings, it is only here that I
have reached you on the confines of the far-stretching Winnipeg. It is no
easy task to find you now, for one has to travel far into the lone
spaces of the Continent before the smoke of your wigwam or of your tepie
blurs the evening air.
But henceforth we will be companions for many months, and through many
varied scenes, for my path lies amidst the lone spaces which are still
your own; by the rushing rapids where you spear the great "namha" (
sturgeon) will we light the evening fire and lie down to rest, lulled by
the ceaseless thunder of the torrent; the lone lake shore will give us
rest for the midday meal, and from your frail canoe, lying like a
sea-gull on the wave, we will get the "mecuhaga" (the blueberry) and the
"wa-wa," (the goose) giving you the great medicine of the white man, the
thé and suga in exchange. But I anticipate.
On the morning following my arrival at the mission house a strange sound
greeted my ears as I arose. Looking through the window, I beheld for the
first time the red man in his glory.
Filing along the outside road came some two hundred of the warriors and
braves of the Ojibbeways, intent upon all manner of rejoicing. At their
head marched Chief Henry Prince, Chief "Kechiwis" (or the Big Apron) "Sou
Souse" (or Little Long Ears); there was also "We-we-tak-gum Na-gash" (or
the Man who flies round the Feathers), and Pahaouza-tau-ka, if not
present, was represented by at least a dozen individuals just as fully
qualified to separate the membrane from the top of the head as was that
most renowned scalp-taker.
Wheeling into the grass-plot in front of the mission house, the whole
body advanced towards the door shouting, "Ho, ho!" and firing off their
flint trading-guns in token of welcome. The chiefs and old men advancing
to the front, seated themselves on the ground in a semi-circle, while the
young men and braves remained standing or lying on the ground farther
back in two deep lines. In front of all stood Henry Prince the son of
Pequis, Chief of the Swampy tribe, attended by his interpreter and
pipe-bearer.
My appearance upon the door-step was the signal for a burst of deep and
long-rolling, "Ho, ho's," and then the ceremony commenced. There Was no
dance or "pow wow;" it meant business at once. Striking his hand upon
his breast the chief began; as he finished each sentence the interpreter
took up the thread, explaining with difficulty the long rolling, words of
the Indian.
"You see here," he said, "the most faithful children of the Great Mother;
they have heard that you have come from the great chief who is bringing
thither his warriors from the Kitchi-gami" (Lake Superior), "and they
have come to bid you welcome, and to place between you and the enemies
of the Great Mother their guns and their lives. But these children are
sorely puzzled; they know not what to do. They have gathered in from the
East, and the North, and the West, because bad men have risen their hands
against the Great Mother and robbed her goods and killed her sons and put
a strange flag over her fort. And these bad men are now living in plenty
on what they have robbed, and the faithful children of the Great Mother
are starving and very poor, and they wish to know what they are to do. It
is said that a great chief is coming across from the big sea-water with
many mighty braves and warriors, and much goods and presents for the
Indians. But though we have watched long for him, the lake is still
clear of his canoes, and we begin to think he is not coming at all;
therefore we were glad when we were told that you had come, for now you
will tell us what we are to do and what message the great Ogima has sent
to the red children of the Great Mother."
The speech ended, a deep and prolonged "Ho!"--a sort of universal "thems
our sentiments "--ran round the painted throng of warriors, and then they
awaited my answer, each looking with stolid indifference straight before
him.
My reply was couched in as few words as possible. "It was true what they
had heard. The big chief was coming across from the Kitchi-gami at the
head of many warriors. The arm of the Great Mother was a long one, and
stretched far over'seas and forests; let them keep quiet, and when the
chief would arrive, he would give them store of presents and supplies; he
would reward them for their good behaviour. Bad men had set themselves
against the Great Mother; but the Great Mother would feel angry if any of
her red children moved against these men. The big chief would soon be
with them, and all would be made right. As for myself, I was now on my
way to meet the big chief and his warriors, and I would say to him how
true had been the red children, and he would be made glad thereat.
Meantime, they should have a present of tea, tobacco, flour, and
pemmican; and with full stomachs their harts would feel fuller still."
A universal "Ho!" testified that the speech was good; and then the
ceremony of hand-shaking began. I intimated, however, that time would
only permit of my having that honour with a few of the large assembly--in
fact, with the leaders and old men of the tribe.
Thus, in turns, I grasped the bony hands of the "Red Deer'" and the "Big
Apron," of the "Old Englishman" and the "Long Claws," and the "Big Bird;"
and, with the same "Ho, ho!" and shot-firing, they filed away as they had
come, carrying with them my order upon the Lower Fort for one big feed
and one long pipe, and, I dare say, many blissful visions of that life
the red man ever loves to live-the life that never does come to him the
future of plenty and of ease.
Meantime, my preparations for departure, aided by my friends at the
mission, had gone on apace. I had got a canoe and five stout English
half-breeds, blankets, pemmican, tea, flour, and biscuit. All were being
made ready, and the Indian Settlement was alive with excitement on the
subject of the coming man--now no longer a myth--in relation to a general
millennium of unlimited pemmican and tobacco.
But just when all preparations had been made complete an unexpected event
occurred which postponed for a time the date of my departure; this was
the arrival of a very urgent message from the Upper Fort, with an
invitation to visit that place before quitting the settlement. There had
been an error in the proceedings on the night of my arrival, I was told,
and, acting under a mistake, pursuit had been organized. Great excitement
existed amongst the French half breeds, who were in reality most loyally
disposed; it was quite a mistake to imagine that there was any thing
approaching to treason in the designs of the Provisional Government and
much more to the same effect. It is needless now to enter into the
question of how much all this was worth: at that time so much conflicting
testimony was not easily reduced into proper limits. But on three points,
at all events, I could form a correct opinion for myself. Had not my
companion been arrested and threatened with instant death? Was he not
still kept in confinement? and had not my baggage undergone confiscation
(it is a new name for an old thing)? And was there not a flag other than
the Union Jack flying over Fort Garry? Yes, it was true; all these things
were realities.