BACK TO THE WILDERNESS
Bishop Bompas was not to return alone to his great work, for a few
days after his consecration, May 7, he was united in marriage to Miss
Charlotte Selina Cox by Bishop Anderson, assisted by the Rev. John
Robins, Vicar of St. Peter’s, Netting Hill, and the Rev. Henry Gordon,
Rector of Harting.
Mrs. Bompas was a woman of much refinement and devotion to the mission
cause. Her father, Joseph Cox, M.D., of Montague Square, London, was
ordered to Naples for his health. During this trip, in which he was
accompanied by his family, his daughter, afterwards Mrs. Bompas, acquired
that love for the Italian language which ever after continued to be a
great source of pleasure to her. No matter where she went in the northern
wilds of Canada, she carried her Dante with her, which she studied, with
much delight, in the original.
During her stay at Naples she attended her first ball, given by the
British Ambassador, and met the King of Naples (the notorious King
“Bomba”), and always afterwards remembered his remark in Italian, “What
have you done to amuse yourself at the carnival?”
When quite young, Mrs. Bompas had little interest in missions, and says:
“My brother, who was Vicar of Bishop’s Tawton, Devonshire, used to hold
missionary meetings at the Vicarage, and I remember thinking them the
dullest affairs, and the clergymen who addressed us, and whom my brother,
perhaps, would introduce as the distinguished missionary from Japan
or Honolulu, I looked upon as the most dismal old slow coaches it was
anyone’s unhappy fate to attend to.”
Her interest at length became aroused, and later, when the martyrdom of
Bishop Patteson startled the Christian world, she became much excited,
and reached, as she tells us, “the enthusiastic stage when we resolve
to become missionaries ourselves, and are all impatient to be off
anywhere—to China, Japan, or to the Indians of the Mackenzie River.”
It was at this period she cast in her lot with the Bishop of Athabasca,
and became “consecrated to mission work.”
The Bishop and Mrs. Bompas, on May 12, 1874, set their faces towards
their great field of labour. Friends and loved ones came to bid them
farewell, among whom was Bishop Anderson, late of Rupert’s Land, who
presented the Bishop with a beautiful paten for his cathedral in the new
Diocese of Athabasca. The good steamship _China_, of the Cunard Line,
received them, and soon she was cutting her way through the water bound
for New York. Consecrated, married, and sailed all in one week! Such was
the record of the Bishop, who declared it was the hardest week he ever
experienced. Never again was he to look upon the shores of his native
land, or visit the scenes of childhood; the northern wilds of Canada
needed him, and there he remained till the last.
Ahead of them lay the long journey of two months by open boat to Fort
Simpson. At Winnipeg they missed the boats of the Hudson’s Bay Company,
and after some difficulty another was obtained, in the hope of overtaking
the former. It was a “brilliant, cloudless” June morning when they
crossed the prairie towards St. John’s Cathedral, and sighted the “river,
looking still and silvery in the morning light,” and found the boat,
their home for weeks to come, “moored just below St. John’s College.”
Farewells were said, the boat pushed off, and they moved on their way,
leaving the Bishop of Rupert’s Land waving his hand from the bank of the
stream.
It was a tedious journey, as day after day they glided forward. Not
only was the heat intense, but the swarms of mosquitoes proved a great
annoyance.
“I had come prepared for intense cold,” wrote Mrs. Bompas, “and we were
destined to endure tropical heat. All up the Saskatchewan, Stanley, and
English Rivers the banks slope down like a funnel, and the July and
August sun scorches with vertical rays the heads of the travellers. We
were seated in open boats, each with a crew of ten or twelve men, who
spread our sails when the wind was fair, and took them in when the wind
failed us. Eighty-six was, some of those days, our average temperature,
and I had come provided with the thickest of serge dresses, as none of
my friends had realized the possibility of anything but frost and cold
in these northern regions. Besides this, we had to encounter swarms
of mosquitoes, crowding thick around us, penetrating our boots and
stockings, and invading our Robabou soup and pemmican, etc. I remember
the bliss it was in those days in camping-time to escape from the rest
of the party, and, getting rid of boots and stockings, to sit with my
feet and legs in the cool water of the river, to soothe the intolerable
irritation of the mosquito-bites.”
But in the midst of all this there were times of refreshing, and at
various places hearty were the greetings that awaited them. One morning
they reached St. Andrews, on Red River, and there before them appeared a
pretty stone church, with wide, square tower, and a comfortable-looking
parsonage-house, with a nice veranda, and a few scattered cottages
around. It was a pleasant home scene, and there they found the Vicar, the
Rev. John Grisdale (afterwards Bishop of Qu’Appelle), and about sixty
others, who had been waiting all the morning to receive them. After
luncheon had been served a little service was held on the veranda, and
as they left, the bell of the church rang out a peal of farewell, and all
on shore gave a hearty cheer.
All along the way Indians were encountered camped on the bank, and at
times a halt was made while the Bishop spoke a few words to them. One
night they stopped near a number of natives, and service was held. Among
the party was a poor woman totally blind. The Bishop knelt by her side
and told her of the blind man in the Gospel story, and repeated to her
several passages of Scripture, to which the woman listened with much
eagerness, and seemed greatly pleased.
The many long, hard portages formed a great impediment to their progress,
and through the scorching heat, fighting myriads of mosquitoes, the
provisions had to be carried overland and the boat dragged up the rapids.
The Bishop willingly took his share of the labour, and though of great
strength, overtaxed himself in lifting a heavy box, and sprained his
back, or, rather, re-sprained it, as he had been injured some weeks
before in hauling at the boat. He suffered much agony from the sprain,
which troubled him somewhat during the rest of his life.
An incident happened on this trip which serves to show the Bishop’s
forgetfulness of self when others were to be considered. A young Indian
lost his hat overboard, and, being unable to obtain it, suffered much
from the heat as he toiled at the oar. The Bishop, seeing his discomfort,
at once placed his own hat upon the Indian’s head, and insisted that he
should wear it. The sight of the native with the flat, broad-brimmed
episcopal head-gear caused great amusement to the entire company.
There were times of excitement, too, as they moved on their way. We shall
let Mrs. Bompas tell of one in her own graphic style:
“It was about 6 o’clock p.m., the sun still high, but a fresh breeze had
set in, and was filling the sail of our boat, and giving us comfort and
refreshment after a sultry day. We were beginning to discuss our landing,
wondering where our steersman intended us to encamp that night, as all
the details are left to his control and management.
“Suddenly, as we were quietly sailing on, an exclamation was made by one
of our sailors, and as suddenly all eyes were directed towards a line of
thick wood which encircled a bay on our right. It would be impossible to
give any idea of the intense eagerness which marked the gaze of our ten
men. You must know something of the Indian’s intensity of character, and
his love of sport, to be able to understand and appreciate it.
“Our fore-oar man, ‘Charley,’ especially attracted my attention. Such a
strange, tawny, heavy face as his was when passive, with long black hair
hanging on each side his face, and a disordered attempt at whiskers and
moustache; one hand clutching nervously at his oar, and the other shading
his eyes; every sinew, almost every nerve, in a state of tension. We
longed to ask what object they saw, but scarcely ventured to do so, for
silence had overspread our crew, and though apparently much was being
discussed, and important matters decided upon, yet it was all done by
signs, or in low-whispered accents. At last some conclusion was evidently
arrived at. The sail was lowered, and our course altered in the direction
of the wood in question. At the same time the Bishop ascertained from one
of the men, and whispered to me, the cause of all this excitement—namely,
‘a black bear’!
[Illustration: AN INDIAN ENCAMPMENT
_From a photograph by Mr. J. M. Lowndes, Calgary_]
“It needed the quick eye and ear of a Red Indian to detect the bear, if
such it was, at the distance we then found ourselves from the wood, and
amid the countless shadows of those great Norway pines, or the grotesque
forms of aged stumps and stones which edged the wood. For some moments I
felt convinced that it was all a mistake, and that our bear would turn
out no more than a ‘bare idea’! However, the men had full faith in their
hero, though I had none, and so, still in dead silence, we moved steadily
on, making for the wood at the exact point where the dark object had at
first been visible.
“It was really very striking, the way in which we drew up to shore,
and lowered our sail, all with no more sound than would have awakened
a sleeping infant. And now two of the men slipped ashore, having first
possessed themselves of loaded guns. Others followed, with soft, stealthy
footsteps, and all soon disappeared in the mazes of the thick forest.
“One thing I could observe for myself, which laid to rest my doubts
as to the fact of the bear having actually been seen—great, spreading
paw-prints on the sand. Yes, he had an existence then, poor old Bruin!
and had been quietly disporting himself upon the sand that evening,
perhaps in pursuit of a little fish for his supper, little thinking, poor
beast, of the sumptuous repast for ten hungry men which he was destined
to form that very night.
“The part left for us to play at this time was certainly less exciting
and less interesting than that of our men. Close into the shore at that
time of the evening mosquitoes invariably abound. This evening they
positively swarmed, and in addition to them were a number of sand-flies,
so small that no veil could keep them out, and almost as vicious as their
great-aunts, the mosquitoes. So there we sat, poor, helpless beings!
tapping our foreheads and hands to get quit of our buzzing enemies, and
thinking longingly of our tents and supper.
“Suddenly there was the sound of a gun fired, which roused our interest,
and made us feel as if the game were in earnest. First one, then another
report was heard, and after a few moments’ interval there arose shouts of
triumph, and cries or screams, such as only those Indians can give.
“Our party in the meantime, being weary of the mosquitoes, and naturally
by this time somewhat excited by the matter in hand, had left the boat
and gone ashore. Sticks and faggots were collected, and in a few moments
a splendid fire was kindled. Around it we closely gathered, thankful for
the temporary relief from the buzzing enemies, for no mosquitoes dare
invade the region of smoke or fire.
“Soon was heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Tramp, tramp, tramp,
as of men marching under some heavy burden, accompanied by the sound
of many voices, and soon the party appeared in sight. The two foremost
carried a stout pole, to which, with his legs tied together, hung the
body of poor Bruin! The men brought up their trophy and laid him down
among the ferns, and bluebells, and pretty golden tansy for us to
examine. A splendid bear he was, about two years old, very fat, and with
hair as sleek and glossy as if—forgive me, Bruin!—he had been accustomed
to the use of ‘bear’s grease.’
“Our young French-Canadian, who had shot him, said he had tracked the
beast for some distance, and then stood still. In a few moments he heard
the rustle of leaves and breaking twigs, and the slow tread of the four
paws. Soon he came in sight, when one shot made him fall, and a second
bullet despatched him wholly.
“That night—that very night, over our camp-fire, a huge cauldron
was suspended, and joints of bear were cooked, eaten, and I presume
enjoyed, by our men. We ourselves were, I was thankful to feel, excused
from sharing in the repast that evening. But a dish of delicate bear
steaks was presented to us next morning for breakfast; and having with
difficulty conquered a certain feeling of great repugnance in tasting
them, we could not but pronounce them excellent.
“I do not think it is at all fair to name a person who is uncouth
and ill-mannered ‘bearish.’ My experience of Bruin shows that he is
remarkable for a sedate yet good-tempered expression, and his tastes
are certainly not ungentlemanly, as he seems to live entirely on fish
and the wild berries of these noble Canadian forests. I understand that
a bear once was heard to tell his cub, who ate voraciously, and showed
temper to his brothers and sisters, that he was most ‘mannish’ in his
behaviour. I thought the epithet not wholly inappropriate.”
Fort Simpson was reached on September 24, and much excitement took place.
The red flag of welcome was soon hoisted, and Mr. Hardisty, the chief
officer, and the whole settlement came to the shore to meet them. So
hearty was the reception that they did not perceive the shadow—the grim
shadow of starvation—that was hanging over the fort and land. There was
only one week’s provisions in the Company’s store, and game was very
scarce. At this point the new party arrived, bringing six extra mouths to
be fed, besides the boat’s crew, and yet the Company’s officers received
them with the utmost courtesy and good temper, and did their best to
look and speak cheerfully. Most of the men around the fort had to be
sent away, and there was difficulty in collecting dried scraps of meat
for the wives and children. At length there came a time when there was
not another meal left. The poor dogs hung around the houses, “day by day
growing thinner and thinner, their poor bones almost through their skins;
their sad, wistful look when anyone appeared. Even a dry biscuit could
not be thrown to them.” But just when matters reached the worst, two
Indians arrived, bringing fresh meat, and the great tension slackened.
“From that moment,” says Mrs. Bompas, “the supplies have never failed.
As surely as the provisions got low, so surely, too, would two or three
sledges appear unexpectedly, bringing fresh supplies.”