In the year 1812, several Scottish families emigrated to Hudson Bay,
with a view to colonizing the tract of country known as the Red River
district. This tract had been purchased from the Hudson’s Bay Company by
the Earl of Selkirk, under whose direction and patronage the settlers
left their native land to seek a home in the unknown wilderness of the
west.
[Illustration: ALEXANDER ROSS]
The emigrants arrived in safety, after a journey across sea and land
which gave them a slight foretaste of the perilous life on which they
had embarked. But a few hours had passed over their heads in the land of
their adoption, when an array of armed men, painted, disfigured, and
dressed in the savage costume of the country, warned them that they were
unwelcome visitors. These crested warriors, for the most part, were
employees of the North-West Company, the great rivals of the Hudson’s
Bay Company, who were afraid that the new settlers would ruin the
fur-trade. As this order to depart was soon followed by the fear of
perishing through want of food, the settlers resolved to seek refuge at
Pembina, seventy miles distant. Hither, a straggling party promised to
conduct them.
The settlement of this contract between parties ignorant of each other’s
language furnished a scene as curious as it was interesting: the
language employed on the one side being Gaelic and broken English; on
the other, an Indian jargon and mongrel French, with a mixture of signs
and gestures, wry faces, and grim countenances. The bargain proved to be
a hard one for the emigrants. The Indians agreed to carry the children
and others not able to walk, but all the rest, both men and women, had
to trudge on foot; while all their treasured goods were given by way of
payment to their guides. One man, for example, had to give his gun, an
old family piece, that had been carried by his father at the battle of
Culloden. One of the women also parted with her marriage ring, the sight
of which on her finger was a temptation to the Indians, who are
remarkably fond of trinkets.
No sooner had the gypsy train got under way, than the savages scampered
on ahead, and were soon out of sight with the children, leaving the
terrified mothers running and crying after them for their babes. This
heartless trick was often played them; but without any other harm than
a fright. In other ways the emigrants suffered greatly, especially from
cold, wet, and walking in English shoes; their feet blistered and
swelled, so that many of them were hardly able to move by the time they
reached their journey’s end.
At Pembina the people passed the winter in tents or huts according to
Indian fashion, and lived on the products of the chase in common with
the natives. This mode of life was not without its charms; it tended to
foster kind and generous feelings between the two races, who parted with
regret when the Scots in May, 1813, returned to the colony to commence
their work as farmers.
They now enjoyed peace, but hunger pressed on them, and they often had a
hard time to get food. Fish were very scarce that season, as were roots
and berries; so that their only dependence was on a harsh and tasteless
wild parsnip, and on a species of nettle. These, sometimes raw,
sometimes boiled, they ate without salt.
While such was their summer fare, the hoe was at work, and a little seed
wheat, procured at Fort Alexander, an Indian trading-post on the
Winnipeg River, turned out very well. One of the settlers, from the
planting of four quarts, reaped twelve and a half bushels. But they had
a difficult task to save the crop from the fowls of the air. In the
spring myriads of blackbirds and wild pigeons passed the colony in their
migration to the north and returned again on their way to the south,
during the time of harvest. They were in such flocks as to threaten the
little patches of grain with total destruction. Bird-nets, guns, and
scarecrows were all in use, and men, women, and children kept constantly
going about their little gardens from morning till night, driving away
or slaying the greedy birds.
The fears of the settlers had now vanished. They were cheered by the
hope that the North-Westers would not disturb them any more. Under this
impression, they began to take courage, and to prepare for the arrival
of their friends, for they expected all the other emigrants before the
winter. In this hope they were disappointed. It was late in the season
before they learned that their friends were delayed, and then, rather
than consume the little grain they had secured, they resolved to try
Pembina again, and to save what seed they could for another year.
At Pembina disappointment awaited them. Notwithstanding the great
kindness shown by the French half-breeds to the Scottish settlers during
the last winter, they now kept aloof and treated their visitors coldly.
Ignorant and awkward as the settlers were with regard to the chase, they
had to think and act for themselves, slaving all winter in deep snows to
preserve life. A plot, too, was discovered to murder two of the party
who undertook to hunt, and so this means of life was closed to them.
Provisions, which they had to buy, and then to drag home with great
labor, were very scarce and very dear.
At last, at the beginning of 1814, the settlers returned to the colony
once more in a state of great poverty. They had even had to barter away
their clothing for food. Half-naked, and discouraged, many of them
severely frostbitten, they again took up their struggle for life in the
Settlement.--ALEXANDER ROSS.
_Adapted from “The Red River Settlement.”_