_ON PACIFIC WATERS._
New Westminster--Enormous Forest Trees--English Broom--Port
Moody--Down Burrard Inlet--Sea Fog--Navigation by Echo--Straits
of Georgia--The St. Juan Archipelago--Seamanship--Victoria.
We had reached the most important town on the Mainland of British
Columbia. Although New Westminster is of modern date the town has had
its mutations and disappointments, the last and not the least of which
is to have seen the Railway terminus diverted northward to Burrard
Inlet, a proceeding which her own citizens must admit to have been
unavoidable.
In the morning we found the fog even thicker than last night. I had
finished breakfast and was considering what course I would take when
Mr. Marcus Smith did me the favour to call upon me, and kindly offered
to drive me to Port Moody, first calling at old Government House,
now the Railway Engineer’s office. Government House was, I believe,
last occupied by Governor Seymour and, from all I have heard, many
pleasant hours have been passed within its walls. It has fallen upon
the evil days of ceasing to be the home of official life. Victoria,
on Vancouver’s Island, is the seat of government, and is the present
centre of political movement. The capacious dining and ball rooms are
much out of repair, but they still retain a trace of former grandeur.
The grounds are well laid out with shade trees and rich green lawns,
but unfortunately the fog conceals everything but the objects almost
within reach, and prevents any extended examination.
New Westminster is not remarkable either for its extent or population.
Two thousand five hundred is the estimated number of its present
inhabitants. It possesses, however, a four peal of bells, the gift of
Baroness Burdett-Coutts, the only peal on the whole Pacific coast,
and indeed a rare possession on this continent. The residence of the
Anglican Bishop is in the neighbourhood of Government House; and at no
great distance the Lunatic Asylum and the Penitentiary are to be found.
About half-past ten, under the escort of Mr. Smith, we started in
an open carriage for Port Moody, on Burrard Inlet. My attention was
attracted by the forest trees of enormous size. Within the limits
cleared for the roadway, blackened stumps of many of them, ten feet in
diameter, still remain, on which the record of their age is traceable.
Some of these trunks show a life of six centuries, and hence must have
attained the rank of good-sized trees before the recorded discovery
of the American continent. The ground is covered with a luxuriant
flora, indicating a rich soil and a moist climate. Along the road side
English broom was growing wild, in great luxuriance, the first I have
met in such circumstances on this continent. A drive of six miles over
a hilly road brought us to Burrard Inlet, at Bronson’s tavern, a recent
erection, where the road terminates. At this point we had recourse to a
boat and rowed about a mile to Port Moody, the terminus of the railway.
Port Moody is something more than a village, but at the present moment
it is a strained recognition of its importance, even as a railway
terminus, to call it a town. The number of inhabitants when I was
there could not exceed two score of souls. Whatever its future, at the
present time it has certainly no claim to civic rank. A wharf of good
size has been constructed. At this time it was covered with piles of
steel rails. A freight shed is attached. Near it stands the small house
occupied by Mr. A. J. Hill, Resident Engineer. Two sailing vessels were
lying at the wharf. The rail track has been laid a few miles westward.
In the neighbourhood are half a dozen scattered frame buildings,
some of them scarcely finished, erected by speculators to promote
the selling of town lots. Several square miles of land have been so
laid out. At this moment the greater part of the city of the future
is covered with a dense growth of primeval forest, the age of some
portions of which carries us back to the century in which the Magna
Charta became law. I was told on the spot that the lots so projected
would accommodate tenfold the present white population of British
Columbia.
I have to acknowledge the kindness and hospitality of Mr. and Mrs.
Hill. I derived no little pleasure from looking at the water-colour
drawings of the wild flowers of British Columbia, which Mrs. Hill had
executed. They promise to be a valuable contribution to science. I
trust they may be published at some future date, when they shall have
been sufficiently completed to admit of this proceeding.
The steamer on which we had to embark at Burrard Inlet had not arrived,
so we obtained a small boat and descended the inlet to meet her in
order to have sufficient daylight to continue our trip through the
entrance. The fog, which had partly cleared away by this time, soon
re-appeared, and accordingly we kept near the shore so as not to lose
our reckoning. We had rowed a distance of three miles when we met the
small tug sent in search of us. We got on board without delay. The fog
necessitated caution in our progress. It became thicker and thicker,
until it was impossible to see a ship’s length ahead. Night came on
and we did not know where we were. The head of the tug was turned in
the supposed direction of the settlement, near Hasting’s saw-mill.
All that we had to steer by was a pocket compass, which on more than
one occasion has done good service. Some of us fancied that we heard
the squealing of a pig; important in the double sense that we were
not far from land and also near a settlement. Our whistle was almost
continually sounded and the sharpest look-out kept. The pig replied
unmistakably. We continued cautiously to approach in the direction of
the sound, and were enabled to land at almost the only settlement on
the south side of Burrard Inlet, west of Port Moody.
On landing we obtained intelligence of the steamer “Alexandria,”
detailed to take the party to Victoria. The vessel was lying at the Saw
Mill wharf, at no great distance, so we found our way to it. Supper
was gone through; but the fog still continued. The captain therefore
concluded that it was better not to start, but wait until morning; he
on his part being prepared to leave the moment the fog lifted. The
“Alexandria” is a large, powerful tug, which the owner had kindly
placed at our disposal to cross the Straits of Georgia. She came
expressly from Nanaimo to Burrard Inlet to meet us. We slept on board,
and when we awoke found that we were still moored to the wharf. It was
early, half-past five, but the fog continued heavy and damp. Capt.
Urquhart, however, determined to start and to feel his way through the
thick mist. About half-past seven he took his bearings, and directed
the steamer towards the entrance of the Inlet. We steamed slowly on
through the fog, and in a few minutes nothing was visible from the
deck. The whistle was sounded continually, and the lead was cast
without ceasing. We several times stopped, backed, and again proceeded
slowly, till we reached the Narrows at the entrance. Here the current
is rapid and the channel narrow, not having above two hundred and fifty
yards of sea-room. Fortunately we got a glimpse of the shore through
the haze. The captain, however, saw enough to satisfy himself, and with
a fresh departure put the boat at full speed down English Bay; at least
so we concluded by reference to the chart, for we could see nothing
through the fog by which we are surrounded.
We proceeded down the Straits of Georgia towards the San Juan Islands,
our whistle continually blowing. Mr. Joseph Hunter is the only
passenger not directly connected with the party.
At Victoria I am to part with Dave Leigh, the last of the men who had
been with us in the mountains. He joined us at Bow River, and had
determined to see us to the end of our journey. From the day when we
commenced with pack-horses to cross the range of mountains, Dave has
stood by us and has gallantly helped in many a difficulty. He is a
powerful Cheshire man, such as one would fancy a northern Englishman
to be: honest, self-reliant, plain-spoken and staunch, with a
peculiar habit of calling a spade a spade. He has cooked for us in
all circumstances, there is no other word for it, heroically. He did
his share of the packing, and if there was a load a shade heavier it
was caught up by Dave with some saying of his own, and off he trudged
as if it were a plaything. He had done everything for us that a man
could do with unfailing cheerfulness, and has followed our fortunes for
many a mile. He has driven pack-horses, paddled canoes, rowed boats,
built rafts, stretched our tent, driven hand-cars, cooked our food and
indulged in many a hearty objurgation at Skunk Cabbage and Devil’s
Club. He crosses the Straits of Georgia, and then at Victoria we have
to say good-bye, he to seek other employment. I wish him all happiness
and success, but I have no fear of his future. Whatever his sphere he
will do his duty, and always be found from the beginning to the end a
true man.
We approached the San Juan Archipelago and made our way from the
soundings read from the line and by the echo of the whistle, as its
tone was affected by the nearness or distance of the land. I stood on
the bridge with Capt. Urquhart, and the fidelity with which he could
judge the situation was not simply the result of experience, but of a
natural capacity to determine the niceties and delicacies of sound. I
myself began somewhat to understand the shades of difference, but I was
a very long way from possessing the ability to navigate the ship. We
were approaching an island. The whistle vibrated toward it with a more
muffled tone. We are warned by the echo on which side of us it lay. We
came opposite to it and passed without its being visible to the eye.
The echo changed as we proceeded.
The lead is unceasingly cast. We are warned that we are coming near
land. The current is carrying us towards it. We see plainly before us a
precipitous rock, and with difficulty we change our course, for we have
to back against the current and give the ship’s head another bearing;
so we grope our way, stealing along to avoid mischance, without the
least guide beyond the echo of the whistle, as it is affected by the
nearness or distance of the shore.
The fog continued all day; it appeared, however, to have little
influence upon Captain Urquhart more than to bring out his phonetic
genius. Familiar with the intricate channels, currents and tidal
influences of the San Juan Islands, the lead constantly going, he
keeps on his course slowly and cautiously, but perfectly undismayed
and without a moment of doubt. The whistle, with its echo, pilots him
through the archipelago; and to this day it is a wonder to me how we
found our way. I was by his side and had the benefit of his shrewd
deductions and theories. Even with a bright sun, skill and knowledge
of the landmarks are called for in the passage through these waters.
Our difficulties and the skill displayed in overcoming them may well
be imagined. Fortunately for us there was no wind; frequently we found
ourselves amongst kelp, with its rank leaves floating on the surface.
At one point we passed by rocks not seventy yards distant from us on
the starboard side, the land appeared through the fog a ship’s length
ahead. We immediately stop. The engine is backed. We are so near that
we can hear the voices of children playing on the elevated shore
directly ahead. No one is visible, but in reply to the question from
the look-out at the bow we learn that we have passed Victoria Harbour
and are near the entrance to Esquimalt.
The course of the steamer is changed and we shortly enter Victoria
Harbour in as dense a fog as can be seen in any part of the world.
It was dark when we reached the wharf. I do not think that any of us
were sorry that the experience of the last thirteen hours had been
brought to a close. It was entirely new to me, and with all its success
somewhat bold and enterprising. Capt. Urquhart undoubtedly displayed
great qualities, sagacity, caution, coolness and skill to track his way
as he did. He achieved wonders in seamanship, but to men wanting in
the qualification he possesses, the attempt to imitate it is not to be
commended.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon of the following day when the
regular steamer from New Westminster arrived. She left twenty-four
hours before we started for Burrard Inlet, and took fifty-six hours to
cross the Strait through the fog. We found our way in thirteen hours.
In clear weather the trip is made in about half that time.
We went directly to the Driard house, an hotel which the Victorians
never tire praising. We were late but had a special dinner, and Mr.
Hunter with Captain Urquhart did us the favour to join us, when, as in
duty bound, we did due homage to the captain and ship which carried us
over; and we had especial cause to do so as we were indebted to Mr.
Dunsmuir, the owner, who, hearing of my desire to pass to Vancouver
Island, with great courtesy placed the vessel at my disposal. I did
not fail next day to call and thank him for his kindness, and I feel
it my duty again to acknowledge my obligations to him. The dinner was
excellent and after it was over we strolled out into the gaslight of
Fort street and walked a few miles into the country before we retired.
I looked upon the gaslight as an old friend whose acquaintance I was
glad to make again, and a pleasant duty it is to recognize all we owe
to a well lighted city.
We obtained our portmanteaus, which had been sent from Winnipeg by the
way of San Francisco, and we were by no means unwilling to fall back on
the garb of every-day city life. Moreover we also had the happiness to
receive letters from home.
Saturday was a comparatively idle day. We walked through nearly every
street of Victoria.
We made some calls, and I recollected that eleven years ago on
Saturday, September 29th--to-day is the 28th--I reached Kamloops after
a hard journey across the mountains by the Yellowhead Pass.
My task was now accomplished. We were on the shores of the Pacific,
having passed through the mainland of British Columbia and crossed the
waters to Vancouver Island. Our next thought is the direction we must
follow homewards. But for the moment, as birds of passage, we have to
wait for the fog to lift.