ON TRAIL AND RAPID BY DOG-SLED AND CANOE
[Illustration: A HAZARDOUS VOYAGE.
The river was full of floating ice, the water turbulent, and the craft a
crazy collection of logs and boards. For days the undaunted Bishop and
his one companion, an Indian, plied the poles, chilled to the bone but
never giving up, until at length an icy barrier formed across the river,
and they were compelled to abandon the raft.]
ON TRAIL AND RAPID
BY DOG-SLED & CANOE
THE STORY OF
BISHOP BOMPAS’S LIFE AMONGST
THE RED INDIANS AND ESKIMO
TOLD FOR BOYS AND GIRLS
BY THE
REV. H. A. CODY, M.A.
AUTHOR OF “AN APOSTLE OF THE NORTH”
WITH TWENTY-SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS
_SECOND EDITION_
TORONTO
THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY
LIMITED
1912
PREFACE
I have been asked to write this narrative of the life of Bishop Bompas
for boys and girls. The scenes among which his strenuous course was
run—the lands of the Red Indians and Eskimo—have always appealed to
the imagination of the young; and the endurance which he showed in
his amazing journeys, and the dauntless courage with which he faced
innumerable perils for his Master’s sake, give to his labours a character
of heroism which they will be sure to recognize.
I have been able to add some new matter to that which appeared in “An
Apostle of the North.” Part of the chapter on “How the Bishop got his
Mail” has been taken from an article of mine which appeared in the
_Pacific Monthly Magazine_ in 1908, and which the publishers have kindly
given permission to use.
I am indebted to Miss Agnes C. Laut for extracts from her most
interesting book, “Pathfinders of the West.”
* * * * *
This work was begun at Whitehorse when the thermometer stood at 60° below
zero. It was continued a few weeks later among the roses and orange
groves of sunny California, and is now completed in far Eastern Canada,
at St. John, the grey old loyalist city by the sea.
I hope and trust that it may kindle in the hearts of some of those who
read it a longing to follow in the footsteps of Bishop Bompas, and to
volunteer, like him, for service in these distant outposts of Christ’s
Church militant here in earth.
H. A. C.
_Easter, 1910._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ROMANCE OF EXPLORATION 13
II. EARLY DAYS 23
III. FORWARD TO THE FRONT 31
IV. IN DANGER AMONG THE ESKIMO 39
V. ESKIMO LIFE 52
VI. OUT OF THE NORTH 62
VII. BACK TO THE WILDERNESS 70
VIII. A TERRIBLE JOURNEY IN WINTER 78
IX. THE LITTLE ONES OF THE FLOCK 89
X. A RACE WITH WINTER 97
XI. TIMES OF FAMINE 105
XII. MID DRIFTING ICE 114
XIII. INDIAN WAYS 121
XIV. STIRRING DAYS AT FORTY MILE 140
XV. FLOODED OUT 148
XVI. HOW THE BISHOP GOT HIS MAIL 153
XVII. THE GOLDEN KLONDYKE 163
XVIII. THE MOUNTED POLICE 174
XIX. “FAINT, YET PURSUING” 185
XX. LIGHT AT EVENTIDE 194
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE BISHOP AND AN INDIAN ON A RAFT _Frontispiece_
CANOE-TRAVELLING IN NORTH-WEST CANADA _page_ 20
A SNOW-HOUSE MADE ON THE MARCH ” 56
WINTER TRAVELLING. A MISSIONARY’S INDIAN HELPER ” 68
AN INDIAN ENCAMPMENT ” 74
DOG-SLED IN NORTH-WEST CANADA ” 80
FEEDING THE DOGS ” 84
THE MISSION SCHOOL AT CARCROSS ” 90
AN INDIAN BOY SLIDING DOWNHILL ” 94
THE DOGS RESTING AFTER A HARD DAY’S WORK ” 94
TROUT-SPEARERS BRINGING SUPPLIES FOR A MISSION STATION ” 108
AN INDIAN SUMMER CAMP AT PEEL RIVER ” 122
AN OLD INDIAN DESERTED BY HIS PEOPLE ” 126
TAKING THE MAIL INTO DAWSON IN SPRING ” 154
PACK-HORSE SUPPLIES IN 1898 ” 158
GOAT-TEAM WITH SLED ON THE TRAIL, 1896 ” 164
A MINER’S GOLD-PAN ” 168
PROSPECTORS AND MINERS ON THE TRAIL ” 170
THE RUSH TO THE KLONDYKE. ONE OF MANY STRANGE CRAFT ” 172
BREAKING TRAIL ” 174
THE ROYAL NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE ” 176
THE MOUNTED POLICE COOKING A MEAL ” 178
THE DAWSON—FORT MACPHERSON MAIL ROUTE ” 182
INDIAN BOYS AT WORK AND PLAY ” 190
ON THE TRAIL ” 194
THE BODY OF BISHOP BOMPAS TAKEN IN A BOAT FROM THE
CHURCH TO THE GRAVEYARD ” 198
AN APOSTLE OF THE NORTH
(_Written by the author of this book, when he first saw Bishop Bompas
arrive at Whitehorse, in June, 1904._)
We saw him come—there was no loud acclaim:
He stood among the crowd, so frail and spare;
His humble garb marked his still humbler mien,
Whilst gently waved his scanty, silvery hair.
He stood alone, as stands some ancient pine
Amidst a stirring land and busy mart,
And strove to grasp the new and unknown ways,
Which were so strange to his intrepid heart.
But as I gazed upon that trembling form,
And marked the lisping words which slowly fell,
A vision rose before me, grand and clear,
Which thrilled my soul like some sweet vesper bell.
I saw a lonely region, cold and drear,
I saw the sad wild natives of the North
Pass slow before me, Christless, base, forlorn.
And as I thus beheld there passed straightforth
A lonely man—ay, more than common man—
’Twas one of God’s great heroes, brave and strong,
Who gave up home and friends and comforts all,
And for Christ’s sake passed forth to conquer wrong;
In lonely wilds, in wigwams foul and drear,
Midst sickness, famine, plague, and sore distress,
He pressed straight on, true soldier of the Cross,
His only aim to comfort and to bless.
And so he stands as stood his Master, Christ;
Brave leader he, no matter what the cost;
True teacher he, whose every word was love;
Good Shepherd of God’s children strayed and lost.
And this we know, when broken lies the bowl,
The after-glow of his devoted life
Will lead men on to do and dare for Christ,
And win for Him through darkness, pain, and strife.
ON TRAIL AND RAPID BY DOG-SLED AND CANOE
CHAPTER I
ROMANCE OF EXPLORATION
The progress of civilization and Christianity in the Canadian North-West,
as in many other parts of the world, is due in a large measure to
great fur-trading companies. With a wonderful devotion to the cause
in hand, they pushed beyond the bounds of civilization and entered
regions never before trodden by white man. They built forts, gained the
respect of savage tribes, and ruled them with a firm hand. By their
boats missionaries travelled over the noble streams into the wilderness,
ministered to the natives who gathered round the forts, and received
supplies from the companies’ stores.
As friction between bodies produces heat, fire, and light, so, by the
rivalry of fur-trading companies, the northland of Canada was opened up,
and a new era ushered in. Eager to outstrip one another, they were ever
pushing farther and farther into the country, and, as has been well said,
“the great explorers of the period (1763-1812) were all connected with
the fur trade.”
Away to the north stretched a region, a land of wonder and strange
stories. Indians told of a “great river” in the far North-West,
and showed specimens of copper found along its banks. The Hudson’s
Bay Company, acting upon these reports, decided to make a thorough
investigation, with the object of solving the problem of the North-West
Passage by land, to ascertain what mines were near the mouth of the Great
River, “to smoke the calumet of peace with the Indians, and to take
accurate astronomical observations.”
The man chosen for this work, Samuel Hearne, the “Mungo Park of Canada,”
was a trustworthy servant of the Company, who, on November 6, 1769,
started on his voyage of exploration from Prince of Wales Fort, on the
shore of Hudson’s Bay. Owing to the desertion of over half his men, the
attempt proved a failure, and he was forced to turn back.
Two months later he started again, and followed a northwesterly course
over streams, lakes, and then inland across the “Barren Grounds.” Food
was very scarce, and they were reduced to great straits. “For a whole
week cranberries, scraps of leather, and burnt bones were their only
food.” To add to their troubles, when 500 miles had been made, their only
quadrant was blown over and broken. So again Hearne was forced to retrace
his weary steps to the Bay.
Nothing daunted by these failures, this noble-hearted explorer once more
started on his northward quest. This time he was more successful. With a
strong band of Indians who were waging war against the Eskimo, he floated
down-stream, and ere long gained the sea, the first white man to reach
the Arctic Ocean from the interior.
“The most unpleasant part of Mr. Hearne’s story,” wrote Bishop Bompas
in his book on the “Diocese of Mackenzie River,” “is that the party of
Indians with whom he travelled, entirely without his sanction, made an
unprovoked attack on a number of Eskimo encamped on the Coppermine River,
and in the night barbarously massacred the whole body of men, women, and
children, and spoiled their tents. The site of the massacre became known
afterwards as the ‘Bloody Falls.’”
Miss Agnes C. Laut, in her most interesting book, “Pathfinders of the
West,” speaking about this incident, says:
“The conduct of Hearne’s rascally companions could no longer be
misunderstood. Hunters came in with game; but when the hungry slaves
would have lighted a moss fire to cook the meat, the forbidding hand
of a chief went up. No fires were to be lighted. The Indians advanced
with whispers, dodging from stone to stone like raiders in ambush. Spies
went forward on tiptoe. Then far down-stream below the cataracts Hearne
descried the domed tent-tops of an Eskimo band sound asleep; for it was
midnight, though the sun was at high noon. When Hearne looked back to his
companions, he found himself deserted. The Indians were already wading
the river for the west bank, where the Eskimo had camped. Hearne overtook
his guides stripping themselves of everything that might impede flight or
give hand-hold to an enemy, and daubing their skin with war-paint. Hearne
begged Matonabbee to restrain the murderous warriors. The great chief
smiled with silent contempt. He was too true a disciple of a doctrine
which Indians practised hundreds of years before white men had avowed
it—the survival of the fit, the extermination of the weak—for any qualms
of pity towards a victim whose death would contribute profit. Wearing
only moccasins and bucklers of hardened hide, armed with muskets, lances,
and tomahawks, the Indians jostled Hearne out of their way, stole forward
from stone to stone to within a gun-length of the Eskimo, then, with a
wild war-shout, flung themselves on the unsuspecting sleepers.
“The Eskimo were taken unprepared. They staggered from their tents,
still dazed in sleep, to be mowed down by a crashing of fire-arms which
they had never before heard. The poor creatures fled in frantic terror,
to be met only by lance-point and gun-butt. A young girl fell coiling
at Hearne’s feet like a wounded snake. A well-aimed lance had pinioned
the living form to earth. She caught Hearne round the knees, imploring
him with dumb entreaty; but the white man was pushed back with jeers.
Sobbing with horror, Hearne begged the Indians to put their victim out of
pain. The rocks rang with the mockery of the torturers. She was speared
to death before Hearne’s eyes. On that scene of indescribable horror
the white man could no longer bear to look. He turned toward the river,
and there was a spectacle like a nightmare. Some of the Eskimo were
escaping by leaping to their hide boats, and with lightning strokes of
the double-bladed paddles dashing down the current to the far bank of the
river; but sitting motionless as stone was an old, old woman—probably a
witch of the tribe—red-eyed as if she were blind, deaf to all the noise
about her, unconscious of all her danger, fishing for salmon below the
falls. There was a shout from the raiders; the old woman did not even
look up to face her fate; and she, too, fell a victim to that thirst for
blood which is as insatiable in the redskin as in the wolf-pack.”
“It is remarkable,” says Bishop Bompas, “that there is a bird in those
parts which the Indians there call the ‘alarm bird,’ or ‘bird of
warning’—a sort of owl which hovers over the heads of strangers and
precedes them in the direction they go. If these birds see other moving
objects, they flit alternately from one party to the other with screaming
noise, so that the Indians place great confidence in the alarm bird to
apprise them of the approach of strangers, or to conduct them to herds of
deer or musk oxen.
“Mr. Hearne remarks that all the time the Indians lay in ambush,
preparatory to the above-mentioned horrid massacre, a large flock of
these birds were continually flying about and hovering alternately over
the Indian and Eskimo tents, making a noise to awake any man out of the
soundest sleep. The Eskimo, unhappily, have a great objection to being
disturbed from sleep, and will not be awakened—an obstinacy which seems
to have cost that band their lives.”
Hearne, like Columbus, was not to have the honour of giving his name to
the great river he discovered. This was reserved for another intrepid
explorer, Alexander Mackenzie, of the North-West Company. In 1789 he
started from Fort Chipewyan, on Lake Athabasca, in search of the “Western
Sea.” He, too, was confronted with great difficulties. Wild Indians told
“of demon-haunted caves and impassable falls.” Terrified by these tales,
his Indians refused to go farther. With infinite patience Mackenzie
induced them to continue seven days longer, and if in that time they did
not discover the sea, he promised to turn back. Before the end of the
week the mouth of the river was reached, and the explorer knew it was the
Arctic Ocean he had gained instead of the Western Sea.
“It is hard,” says Bishop Bompas, “to overpraise the intrepid courage,
cool prudence, and inquiring intelligence of that noble traveller....
Sir Alexander Mackenzie took the greatest pains to conciliate all
Indians whom he met by presents and promises of peaceful trade, and he
energetically restrained all attempts at murder or rapine made by the
Indians who accompanied him. He did not meet with Eskimo, and it is
little wonder that these and the Mackenzie River Indians were shy of him,
as it was then customary for the Athabasca Indians to make annual war
expeditions down the Mackenzie for purposes of plunder, massacre, and
rapine, as well as for the kidnapping of women and slaves.”
In after-years many eminent explorers, such as Franklin, Richardson,
Simpson, and Rae, entered the country, the accounts of whose journeys and
thrilling adventures may be read elsewhere.
Several years after the discovery of the Mackenzie River trading-posts
were established at various places along this stream and its tributaries.
To these the Indians brought their furs, and a thriving business was
carried on. For a time there was a keen rivalry between the Hudson’s Bay
Company and the North-West Company, but at length a union was effected
under the name of the former.
Not satisfied with the great advance which had thus been made, these
“lords of the forest and lakes” turned their attention in another
direction. Ever before their vision rose the majestic peaks of the Rocky
Mountains; beyond these barriers were unknown regions. What possibilities
lay in that _terra incognita_ they could only conjecture. News reached
them of a great river flowing to the west, the estuary of which had been
explored by the Russians several years before, and named by them the
“Quickpak.” This stream they knew must drain a large territory, which
might prove valuable for fur-trading purposes.
There was a man in the Company’s service especially fitted for the task
of pathfinder into the new region. This was Robert Campbell, a Scotchman
by birth, over six feet of upstanding flesh, bone, muscle, and iron
nerve, as dauntless a pioneer as ever shot a swirling rapid or faced a
howling blizzard. To him, therefore, the task was consigned in the spring
of 1840 by Sir George Simpson, Governor of the Company.
At once he began the undertaking, and after a hard and dangerous voyage
up the Liard River, over lakes and portages, a stream was reached,
which Campbell named the Pelly, in honour of Sir H. Pelly. A raft was
hurriedly made, on which they floated several miles down the river to
view the country. Considering they had gone far enough from their base of
supplies, they abandoned the raft, but not before Campbell had cast into
the stream a sealed tin can with notice of his discovery, the date, and
other information.
The discovery of the Pelly River only served to increase the interest
of the Company, and it was resolved to push forward the investigation.
In 1842 birch-bark in sufficient quantity for the building of a canoe
was sent up to the Pelly River, and the same year the construction of a
fur-trading post was begun, and named Fort Pelly Banks. Early in June,
1843, Mr. Campbell started down the stream in the canoe which had been
built, accompanied by two French Canadians and an Indian interpreter.
Concerning this exciting journey Mr. Campbell has given us a vivid
description which should be of great interest to all.
“As we advanced,” he says, “the river increased in size, and the scenery
formed a succession of picturesque landscapes. About twenty-five miles
from Pelly Banks we encountered a bad rapid—‘Hooles’—where we were
forced to disembark everything, but elsewhere we had a nice flowing
current. Ranges of mountains flanked us on both sides. On the right
hand the mountains were generally covered with wood; the left range
was more open, with patches of poplar running up the valleys and
_barnsides_, reminding one of the green brae-face of the Highland glens.
We frequently saw moose-deer and bears as we passed along; and at
points where the precipice rose abrupt from the water’s edge, the wild
sheep—‘big-horn’—were often seen on the shelving rocks. They were very
keen-sighted, and when once alarmed they file swiftly and gracefully over
the mountains. When we chanced to get one we found it splendid eating,
delicate enough for an epicure.
“In this manner we travelled on for several days. We saw only one family
of Indians—‘Knife’ Indians—till we reached the junction of the Pelly
with a tributary, which I named the ‘Lewes.’ Here we found a large camp
of Indians—the ‘Wood’ Indians. We took them by no ordinary surprise, as
they had never seen a white man before, and they looked upon us with
some awe as well as curiosity. Two of their chiefs, father and son, were
very tall, stout, handsome men. We smoked the pipe of peace together,
and I distributed some presents. They spoke in loud tones, as do all the
Indians in their natural state, but they seemed kind and peaceable. When
we explained to them as best we could that we were going down-stream,
they all raised their voices against it. Among other dangers, they
indicated that inhabitating the lower river were many tribes of ‘bad’
Indians—‘numerous as the sand’—who would not only kill us, but eat us;
we should never get back alive, and friends coming to look after us
would unjustly blame them for our death. All this frightened our men to
such a degree that I had reluctantly to consent to our return, which,
under the circumstances, was the only alternative. I learned afterwards
that it would have been madness in us to have made any further advance,
unprepared as we were for such an enterprise.
“Much depressed, we that afternoon retraced our course up-stream; but
before doing so I launched on the river a sealed can containing memoranda
of our trip, etc. I was so dejected at the unexpected turn of affairs
that I was perfectly heedless of what was passing; but on the third day
of our upward progress I noticed, on both sides of the river, fires
burning on the hill-tops far and near. This awoke me to a sense of our
situation. I conjectured that, as in Scotland in the olden time, these
were _signal fires_, and that they summoned the Indians to surround
and intercept us. Thus aroused, we made the best use of paddles and
‘tracking-line’ to get up-stream and ahead of the Indian signals. On
the fourth morning we came to a party of Indians on the further bank
of the river. They made signs to us to cross over, which we did. They
were very hostile, watching us with bows bent and arrows in hand, and
would not come down from the top of the high bank to the water’s edge
to meet us. I sent up a man with some tobacco, the emblem of peace, to
reassure them, but at first they would hardly remove their hands from
their bows to receive it. We ascended the bank to them, and had a most
friendly interview, carried on by words and signs. It required, however,
some finesse and adroitness to get away from them. Once in the canoe,
we quickly pushed out and struck obliquely for the opposite bank, so as
to be out of range of their arrows, and I faced about, gun in hand, to
observe their actions. The river was there too broad either for ball
or arrow. We worked hard during the rest of the day, and until late;
the men were tired out, and I made them all sleep in my tent while I
kept watch. At that season the night is so clear that one can read or
write throughout. Our camp lay on the bank of the river, at the base of
a steep declivity, which had large trees here and there up its grassy
slope. In the branches of one of these trees I passed the greater part
of the anxious night, reading Hervey’s ‘Meditations’ and keeping a
vigilant lookout. Occasionally I descended and walked to the river-bank,
but all was still. Two years afterwards, when friendly relations had
been established with the Indians in the district, I learned, to my no
small astonishment, that the hostile tribe encountered down the river
had dogged us all day, and, when we halted for the night, had encamped
behind the crest of the hill, and from this retreat had watched my every
movement. With the exactitude of detail characteristic of Indians, they
described me sitting in the tree, holding ‘something white’ (the book) in
my hand, and often raising my eyes to make a survey of the neighbourhood;
then descending to the river-bank, taking my horn cup from my belt, and,
even while I drank, glancing up and down the river and towards the hill.
They confessed that, had I knelt down to drink, they would have rushed
upon me and drowned me in the swift current, and, after thus despatching
me, would have massacred the sleeping inmates of my tent. How often,
without knowing it, are we protected from danger by the merciful hand
of Providence! Next morning we were early in motion, and were glad to
observe that we had outwitted the Indians and outstripped their signal
fires.”
[Illustration: CANOE-TRAVELLING IN NORTH-WEST CANADA
The canoes are made of birch-bark over a light framework, and are
consequently very frail. They are, however, light and portable, a great
advantage when navigating rivers with falls or rapids. Those places where
the canoe must be carried from one navigable piece of water to another
are known as portages.]
In the spring of 1848 Campbell once more returned, and erected a post
for trading purposes at the confluence of the Lewes and Pelly Rivers.
This place was called Fort Selkirk, and occupied a dangerous position,
owing to the animosity of a tribe of Indians, known as the Chilcats,
along the Pacific Coast. From time immemorial they had kept the natives
of the interior in abject submission, having defeated them in a great
battle. They refused to allow them to cross the mountains to trade with
the white men on the coast, as they themselves did a thriving business
as “middlemen.” When they beheld the hated white race establishing a
post in what they considered their rightful domain, and drawing away the
principal part of the trade, their anger knew no bounds. Crossing the
mountains, they floated down the river, and, without a word of warning,
attacked the fort and razed it to the ground. Campbell was not present at
the destruction of his trading-post, as, two years after its erection, he
had started down the river to see, at any cost, what lay beyond.
In the meantime another entry had been made into the Yukon region away
to the north. In 1842, Mr. J. Bell, in the employ of the Hudson’s Bay
Company, crossed the Rocky Mountains, and descended the Porcupine River
for three days’ journey. In 1846 he returned, and moved down the river to
its mouth till he reached a great stream, which the Indians told him was
the Yukon. Believing this to be in British territory, Mr. A. H. Murray
established a trading-post at this spot the following year, and called
it Fort Yukon. It was here that the first missionary work was carried
on by the Church Missionary Society, the scene of Archdeacon McDonald’s
wonderful labours for the Master.
In this brief outline of the discovery of the Mackenzie and the Yukon
Rivers we have seen the brave efforts of these noble pioneers. We shall
see now how they were followed by the great King’s messengers with the
glorious Gospel of salvation.