“I’ll go where you want me to go, dear Lord,
Over mountain, or plain or sea;
I’ll say what you want me to say, dear Lord;
I’ll be what you want me to be.”
--_M. Brown._
The only route to British Columbia then travelled, except the terrible
overland journey, attempting to make which so many perished, was
that _via_ New York, by sea to the Isthmus of Panama, thence to San
Francisco, and on to Victoria.
After bidding adieu to home, friends and acquaintances, I left
Woodstock on February 25th, 1862. The journey in some respects was a
sad one. It was at the time of the American Civil War, and at every
station, after crossing the Niagara River, hundreds of men came on
board going to “the front,” leaving behind on the platform their
mothers, sisters, sweethearts and wives, many never to meet again.
These scenes revived in my own heart the pain of my recent parting with
loved ones.
That winter was a terrible one, marked by many heavy snowfalls. In New
York State the train passed between high banks of heaped up snow.
From New York we took passage on board the old S.S. _Champion_. She
was crowded with five hundred men, most of whom were bound for the
Fraser River or Cariboo gold mines, and some of them the roughest class
we ever met, armed with bowie knives and six-shooters. The language
used by many of these men was so vile that I could not sleep below,
and to escape such offensive atmosphere I took my blankets and went
on deck. We had a very rough passage, and it was terribly cold, so I
chose a spot close to the smokestack, and rolling myself up, lay down
to rest. One night, during a great storm, the waves swept over the
deck, drenching me thoroughly, and the officer of the watch came along
and roused me with the words, “My boy, if you don’t get out of this
you will be washed overboard.” I picked up my dripping blankets, shook
myself, and sought a more sheltered spot.
The food supply for the passengers was not all that was needed--I got
one potato in the trip. Fortunately my friends had provided me with a
well-filled lunch-basket, which afforded me good service. The hungry
men at times were rough and selfish. As the stewards would pass the
food on to the table these hoggish men would grab it off the plates
with their hands, so that if any one happened to be a little more
modest he could not get anything. On one occasion a tall, good-natured
Irishman thought he had struck it when he seized a long potato, but
as he was drawing it to himself two other fellows made a grab, one at
each end, and poor Pat was left with just the middle. One day the men
stood by the swinging tables and swept the whole of the food off into
the sea. Then, rushing to the captain, they declared that if he did not
give them something better than “that dead horse” they would use their
six-shooters.
We were delighted to reach the Isthmus, and crossed over by moonlight
on the narrow-gauge railway. It was pleasant to have a night crossing,
for it was very hot weather, and the temperature in the middle of the
day was almost unbearable.
We saw the picturesque thatched huts of the natives here and there
along the way, and called to mind the stories of the terrible mortality
among these people while the little railroad was being built. My heart
was touched by the sight of so many of these poor people in their
apparent heathen simplicity, and I wondered if they had a missionary
among them.
At Panama we embarked on the fine double-decked passenger steamer
_Golden Age_. At this point crowds joined us who had come by ships
from England, and we were told we had fifteen hundred aboard. Our
fine-looking ship was evidently not built to stand much stormy weather,
but they pushed along up the coast of Mexico, meeting no difficulties,
and presently we put into the harbor of Acapulco to coal.
As the ship lay at anchor crowds of natives surrounded the vessel with
their little canoes. The passengers threw five and ten-cent pieces into
the sea, and the natives, heedless of the sharks that were swimming
about, would jump out of the canoes and dive like fish for the money,
bringing the pieces up in their teeth, shaking their heads and still
beckoning for more, as they were ready for another dive.
One of the brethren who followed me tells the story that while his ship
was coaling in this same harbor the sharks were so numerous that the
passengers became alarmed for the safety of the little chaps, who as
usual were diving for the money. Rushing to the side of the vessel, in
great excitement, some of them cried out:
“My! my! That shark is going to have that fellow.”
“Naw,” drawled a gruff old tar, “he won’t touch him.”
“Why not? Look! Look! He’s just going to catch him now.”
“Naw,” said the sailor, looking on without concern. “He stinks too much
of tobacco. He’ll never touch him.”
Soon we sighted the Golden Gate, and later entered it in our ship the
_Golden Age_. One could not but think there was much that was golden in
those days of gold hunting, and yet many a poor fellow found out to his
own sorrow that “it is not all gold that glitters.”
Thousands of men filled the streets of ’Frisco, nearly all bound for
the Fraser River or Cariboo, as British Columbia was called in those
days.
The steamboats, some of them not very seaworthy, were all overcrowded,
bound north. A short time before the old steamer _Republic_, with eight
hundred passengers, and the old _Sierra Nevada_, with nine hundred, had
gone “up.” And now another old coffin, the _Brother Jonathan_, which
had passed the Customs to carry only two hundred and fifty, took on
eleven hundred men and was still selling tickets.
Some of our acquaintances who went north on board of her state that
“they were stowed away like pigs, two in a bunk,” and they did not dare
to leave their bunks for fear they would lose them. They were eight
days on the trip, and hundreds of them never saw daylight but once,
when they put in to Astoria for a few hours.
I, with a small party of Canadians, shipped on board the trim little
barquentine _W. B. Scranton_, and had a lovely trip of ten days. On
Sabbath we held religious services, the first we had had during our
long journey.
As we passed through the Straits of Juan de Fuca, on the last night,
and in sight of the lights of Victoria, a storm caught us. So severe
was it that Captain Cathcart and his men were on deck all night, and
were obliged to put about ship continually to keep her driving between
the three lights of Victoria, Dungeness and Race Rocks.
At daybreak the wind subsided, and the morning found us in a dead calm
away outside the Royal Roads.
The beauty of the sight which met our eyes as the day brightened can
never be forgotten. The grand snow-capped Olympian Range lay to the
south, and away to the east the rising sun cast rays of crimson light
on old Mount Baker, as it nestled back from the great Coast Range of
hills, while the glaciers seemed to shoot back light to the snow on its
lofty peak.
To the north was that most beautiful and natural park, Beacon Hill.
Victoria, we were told, nestled just behind it, though not much of the
town could be seen from where our ship lay.
About noon of the same day, April 11th, we were landed by a small boat
on the rocks near where the outer wharf has since been built.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS.
The natural beauty of its situation entitled Victoria, then as now, to
the name of Queen City of the Pacific Coast.
The town was not large, but the first Parliament buildings and several
good-sized churches gave it importance and helped to enhance the effect
of its appearance. The place was crowded with men, the chief stir of
business being where the “Cheap Johns” had stores for outfitting the
miners--you could hear one on each side of the street auctioneering
their goods almost night and day. The Hudson’s Bay Company’s store and
wharf, with their little boats, the _Enterprise_ and _Otter_, were
rushing business to the port of Queensborough (now New Westminster), on
the Fraser River, where the goods were transferred to river steamers
and rushed on up to the diggings.
Besides those who took passage on the steamers, hundreds were venturing
in small boats and canoes, many of which were wrecked or lost on the
Gulf of Georgia and the treacherous river. And some of those who
escaped shipwreck were murdered by the savages before they reached the
mines.
New Westminster was then a growing village, situated on Mary Hill,
which was still partly covered with immense timber. To the east,
looking up the Fraser River, nature presented another grand panorama of
glorious mountains, upon whose lofty peaks the snow lay all the year
round.
From here the stern-wheel steamers carried freight and passengers to
Yale, then the terminus of steamboat navigation, nearly one hundred
miles up the Fraser. Thence the miner carried his goods on his back, or
had them carried on the backs of pack animals or in ox-waggons, nearly
four hundred miles farther. About this time the great waggon road was
completed to Cariboo, and the treacherous trails over “Jackass” (a
difficult ascent behind Yale) and other mountains were abandoned.
In addition to the river route, hundreds of men came in overland from
California, by way of Whatcom and Sumas, or by the Columbia and through
the Okanagan Valley.
The winter of 1861-2 was one of unusual length and severity, and the
great “rush” to the mines set in too early, with the result that many
endured untold hardships and suffering, and many others who came into
the country were never heard of again.
Long before the summer was over hundreds returned--some from the mines
and some, indeed, who had never reached the mines--poorer and wiser
than when they came. Many who were cursing the country and leaving it
were advised to take up land and settle in the lovely valleys on the
Lower Fraser--Chilliwack, Sumas, and Langley, or the Delta lands near
the mouth. They derided the idea of these lands being any good. But
the few who did remain and take up land are now prosperous and wealthy
farmers, and have lived to see this once despised district become the
“Garden of British Columbia.”
The government of the country was then colonial, under a Governor
appointed by the Home Government and a small Council. James (afterwards
Sir James) Douglas, the first Governor, had been a Chief Factor in the
Hudson’s Bay Company and Governor of Vancouver Island. He was much
respected and beloved by all who knew him well, but especially by the
natives of the country. He was a wise, upright and impartial Governor
over the two colonies, Vancouver Island and British Columbia, which,
though nominally distinct, were for purposes of government practically
one.
About this time, when the rush to the mines produced a more or less
lawless condition of affairs, Matthew (afterwards Sir Matthew) Begbie,
an English barrister, was appointed to the bench. He dispensed justice
in the colonies with so firm a hand that for years he was a terror
to evil-doers. Many stories are told of him, but the following will
serve to show the fearless character of the man. A fellow was being
tried before him, charged with sand-bagging a miner and obtaining his
gold. There was hardly any doubt that he had committed the crime. The
evidence given was so convincing that a verdict of “guilty” appeared
the only possible one. But the jury found him not guilty. “Prisoner
at the bar,” said his lordship, “the jury have found you not guilty. I
discharge you, and now I recommend you to go and sand-bag the jurymen.”
Besides the Methodist Church, the Episcopalian, Presbyterian,
Congregational and Roman Catholic Churches were all doing good work
among the white colonists. I shall never forget the unspeakable delight
with which, after nearly six weeks’ deprivation, I had the privilege
again of attending love feast and sacrament. I was admitted by ticket
from the Rev. Dr. Evans, pastor of the church in Victoria. I was like
a bird let out of a cage, and entered with joy into the spirit of the
meeting. It was afterwards asked by some of the brethren: “Who was that
strange boy in home-spun clothes who had the audacity to disturb the
quiet of the church by his ‘Amen,’ ‘Hallelujah,’ and ‘Praise the Lord’?”
As the spring advanced the lovely climate became apparent. The genial
warmth of the beautiful spring and summer days was followed by cool
nights, when anyone in health might enjoy refreshing sleep.
The extensive timber areas, one of the most valuable assets of the
country, were already attracting capital. A number of sawmills and
spar-camps began shipping spars and lumber to many parts of the world.
No one could go through the primeval forests of those days without
being impressed with their natural greatness. Tall firs abounded, many
of them from two hundred to three hundred feet in height, standing
straight, their stems unbroken by a single branch until they reached
the bushy, spreading tops. Equally tall and gigantic cedars grew side
by side with hemlock, spruce and the smaller vine maple, the shady,
broad-leafed soft maple, ash, birch, cottonwood, apple, cherry and
alder. Such a wealth of foliage caused one to exclaim, “Lo! God is
here! Let us adore.”
These were some of the first impressions of the land which was to be my
home for so many years.
The following eleven months were spent in hard manual labor, by which
I earned sufficient to return the money, with interest, which had been
so generously loaned to defray the expenses of my journey. This gave me
excellent opportunities to gain an insight into the life and needs of
the country and its people--a knowledge which could not well have been
gained otherwise. I was employed on the wharf, at work in the woods,
clearing land, and on the roads being built by the Government, as well
as on rough carpentering work in putting up buildings. All this, in a
measure, prepared me for canoe and camp life, and for superintending
the erection of church and mission buildings, and for assisting the
natives in building their houses--indeed, for all the practical mission
work which lay before me.
It was while working on the Government road that fall that I first saw
the large dog salmon jumping and floundering up a stream so narrow that
we could jump over it. So crowded were they, and so great was their
number, that their fins and tails were, many of them, worn off in the
struggle. It was not an uncommon thing to see black bears, in such a
field, fishing for themselves, and eagles by the score, as well as
ravens, carrying off their supply of food. We saw elk and deer in great
numbers, and water fowl in clouds. And the conviction grew upon one
that a land of such mountains and rivers, seas and forests, teeming
with life, such coal and gold fields and such a magnificent climate,
was destined to become a great and grand country.
All this time my mind and sympathies were excited by the condition of
the poor Indians, as it was for their temporal and spiritual welfare
I had left my home and friends. When I saw the thousands from the far
north coast, as well as from the interior, crowding into and about the
towns, being more and more debauched and degraded by the white man’s
diseases and fire-water; when I saw how little human life was respected
by them, and realized how little was being done to stem the tide of
evil among them, it made my heart burn within me.
At Victoria these people were so crowded together, and in such great
numbers, that the natives from the north came into violent collision
with those from the south, and bloodshed was the result. To put a stop
to this, the citizens petitioned the Government to send the northerners
away to their homes.
All this, and much more that we saw among these people, would tend to
grieve the hardest heart, and to inspire one to make a decided and
determined effort for their salvation and civilization. And daily I was
hoping and praying that the way might soon open for me to commence work
among them.