Saulte Ste. Marie--Indian Embroidery--Lake Superior--Preaching, Singing,
and Card-playing--Silver Islet--Thunder Bay--The Dog River--Flowers at
Fort William--"Forty Miles of Ice"--Icebergs and Warm
Breezes--Duluth--Hotel Belles--Bump of Destructiveness in Porters.
The scenery just before entering the St. Mary River, which unites Lake
Huron and Lake Superior, is very fine. As the steamer threaded the group
of islands with their high, rocky, picturesquely wooded shores, we were
sometimes near enough to distinguish the many varieties of mosses and
ferns just springing into life; then, steaming across the rippling water,
we reached some point whose distant beauty had made us long to carry away
more than a memory of its outlines; and so, winding in and out amongst
the islands of this North American archipelago, we "fetched" the Saulte
Ste. Marie about sunset. [Footnote: The island-studded northern expanse
of Lake Huron is known as Georgian Bay. As the level of Lake Superior is
between thirty and forty feet higher than that of Lake Huron, there is a
corresponding fall at the head of the St. Mary River. This difference of
level prevents direct navigation between the two lakes; consequently, the
Americans have constructed across the extreme north-eastern point of the
State of Michigan a fine canal, which gives them exclusive possession of
the entrance by water to the great inland sea of Lake Superior. When, in
1870, the Red River Expedition, under Colonel (now General Sir) Garnet
Wolseley, sought to make the passage in several steamboats _en
route_ for Thunder Bay, the State authorities of Michigan issued a
prohibition against it. Fortunately, the Cabinet of Washington overruled
this prohibition, and the Expedition was permitted to pass; not, however,
until valuable time had been lost. Considering the importance of this
canal to the Dominion Government, and that at a crisis the United States'
Cabinet could close Lake Superior to our vessels of war, I think some
steps should be taken by which the Imperial Government would become joint
proprietors of the canal, with an equal share in its management at all
times.] The "Saulte," as it is generally called, is a pretty little
village, situated at the foot of a hill on the north shore of the canal.
Having to remain an hour there, we went ashore, up the long straight
street, to a frame-house, or store, where there was an extensive display
of Indian work. The Lake Superior and Huron Red Indians are particularly
noted for the beauty of their embroidery on skins, silk, birch bark, and
cloth, in beads, porcupine quills, or silk. Their imitative genius is so
great that the squaws can copy anything, and I know people who have had
their crests and coats-of-arms embroidered upon their tobacco-pouches
and belts, from an impression on paper or sealing-wax. Generally they
copy flowers and ferns, invent their own patterns, or, what seems even
more wonderful, make them by chewing a piece of bark into the form they
require--the bark assuming the appearance of a stamped braiding pattern.
As the white people put an exorbitant price on the flour and trinkets
they give in exchange for the Indians' work, the latter ask, when selling
for money, what seems more than its full value; but many who travel that
way, provided with cheap trinkets and gaudy ribbons, get the work cheaply
enough.
There is quite a large Roman Catholic church in the village; but we had
to be content with a tiptoe peep through its windows, as after the
"angelus" the door is locked. There are some small trading stores, a few
scattered houses, long, pretty winding roads up the hills, skirted by
cozy little farmhouses and wheat-fields, and one or two dwellings of more
pretension occupied as summer residences by Americans. A little higher
up, on the other side of the canal, lie the low white buildings of the
American fort. That fortification, with its sentries and the national
flag floating over the chief bastion, looked gay enough in the rays of
the fast-setting sun. After remaining several hours to coal, we left the
little village in the darkness, and when day dawned again found ourselves
out in the broad waters of Lake Superior--called by the Indians "the
Great Sea" (_Kichee Kumma_). For hours no land was to be seen on
either side, but we were visited by two little birds, quivering with
cold, weary from their long flight, almost too timid to alight upon our
boat, yet too tired to resist the resting-place. Poor little wanderers!
many a lonely emigrant, who had left all he loved behind to try his
fortune in an unknown land, felt sympathy for them.
Seeing nothing but water and sky to interest us without, we turned our
attention to our fellow-passengers within. At one end of the long saloon
a zealous Cecilite, the centre of a mixed group, was "improving the
occasion," Bible in hand--exhorting his hearers to turn from the error of
their ways, and denouncing the world and its wickedness, as exemplified
in the group of card-players close by. Their "I'll order it up!" "Pass!"
"I'll play it alone!" mingled with the grave accents of the preacher,
whose exhortations were answered by shouts of laughter and ringing glees
from the other end of the boat, where stood the piano and its satellites.
In vain the poor Cecilite tried "to stem the torrent" of what he
considered "Satan's doings;" his obstinacy and want of tact only
increased the mischievous delight of his enemies. At the sides of the
saloon small knots of French Canadians chattered merrily; at the top of
the stairs an emigrant or two were allowed to infringe the rule of "no
deck passengers," because of the crowd on board. Poor things! One did not
wonder that they escaped gladly from the jarring sounds and offensive
smells below.
Early on Saturday morning we passed Silver Islet, that mine of wealth to
our neighbours across the line. It lies in an island-dotted bay, and is
so covered with mining works that it looks like a pile of buildings
rising out of the water. The crushing-mills are on the mainland close by.
Silver Islet first belonged to a Canadian company; but from lack of
enterprise or capital it was sold to an American company for a nominal
sum, and, as is often the case, the sanguine nature of Cousin Jonathan,
acting on the motto, "Nothing venture nothing win," has been successful,
and the company is now (1879) shipping $20,000 worth of silver ore a day.
The islet can be visited only by those who have especial permission to
see the mines and works, or friends among the officials, neither of which
had we.
The adjacent village, at which the _Manitoba_ stopped, did not look
as if times were very prosperous with it. Two smoky little tugs lay idly
at the small wharf, and the few red wooden houses built against the
rocks, their flat roofs piled up with bales of goods and boxes--the
ever-present blue barrels of coal-oil being most conspicuous--seemed
tenantless. Leaving Silver Islet far behind, we rounded Whitefish Point,
with its tall lighthouse, and saw a very distinct mirage--a long stretch
of cold blue water, filled with great blocks of ice. It was rather
amusing to see the eagerness with which glasses were levelled at the
"counterfeit presentment" of a scene, of whose reality we should soon
have even too much.
At the entrance of Thunder Bay, we passed Thunder Cape on our right and
Pie Island on our left; the former a bold promontory, rising 1300 feet
above the sea-level, and wooded with a short stunted growth of bush,
principally poplar. Save for its picturesquely situated lighthouse and
log hut, where the keeper lives, no other sign of habitation was visible.
Thunder Bay and Cape probably take their names from the fierce and
frequent storms that rage there; Pie Island from the peculiar formation
of its northern end. Passing many rocky islands, with tiny waterfalls
zigzaging down their sides, we arrived at "Prince Arthur's Landing" and
walked up the long pier, partly roofed to form a temporary warehouse for
a pile of freight, in the teeth of a blistering hot land-breeze, which
drove the dust in blinding, choking eddies about us. After looking at
some specimens of Lake Superior agate which were on exhibition in a dusty
shop, and buying some lemons at what we thought the exorbitant price of a
dollar and a half per dozen, we were glad to retrace our steps to the
steamer, where we found the captain ready and anxious to start. Half an
hour's steaming brought us to the mouth of the Kaministiquai, or Dog
River, and entering it, we were at once in another country. No more dusty
roads, baked-looking piers, nor begrimed aborigines; but bright, rippling
water, cool green fields, dotted here and there with leafy trees, cattle
grazing or lying lazily in their shade, trim fences, long grass-grown
country roads, and soon the white walls and flowery garden of Fort
William, the Hudson Bay Company's trading post. The rockery in the centre
of the garden would have gladdened the heart of an Ontario gardener. I
believe that wealthy people there have had large fragments of Lake
Superior rock brought down to adorn their lawns and gardens. We found
friends at the fort in the factor and his family, with whom we spent a
pleasant half-hour. Mr. McIntyre is well known, and many will owe him
gratitude for kindness as long as Fort William or the Canada Pacific
Railway remains in their memory.
We left Thunder Bay for Duluth at three o'clock. The day had become
cloudy, and showers fell all the evening, but not heavily enough to
prevent every man, woman, and child from rushing out to "speak" the
down-coming boat _Ontario_, and hear her report on the state of the
ice-fields. She had been six days icebound at Duluth and the answer to
our captain's inquiry was--
"Forty miles of ice; only one passage. If you hit that, all right; if
not, you won't get through."
And wishing us luck and good night, with three hearty cheers from either
deck, we parted. Naturally anxious as we were for a speedy journey, the
possibility of failure in hitting the one open passage lent the
additional charm of uncertainty to our voyage; not charming, however, to
the poor emigrants whose stock of provisions was too scanty to admit of a
long stay on board, while the commissariat of the steamer was not
prepared to supply them. Knowing this, the captain--a pleasant, handsome
man--quoting the saying that "Fortune favours the brave," put on steam.
By eight o'clock on Sunday morning we had met great blocks of ice, and
grown accustomed to hearing them bump against the side of the boat; and
before noon we were well into the icefields, with loose blocks of ice on
every side, and a rough surface of piled-up masses as far as the eye
could see. Up a narrow strip of blue water we steamed, the passage
closing in our wake. Then the way became blocked ahead, while the vessel
heeled to one side with a lurch, as a great block went under her keel.
The captain held on steadily but slowly, stopping the machinery until a
large berg was passed, and taking advantage of an opening created by the
waves as they bore the floes upon their crests. As the ice-blocks closed
in behind us the certainty of being unable to return, and the difficulty
of going ahead, gave increased excitement to our adventure.
One of its strangest features was the heat. Though clothed in the
lightest summer dresses, we were uncomfortably warm--and this with miles
of ice around us! The warm land-breeze, and our captain's promptitude and
determination, enabled us to reach Duluth that evening. A change of wind
the same night drove the ice back into the bay, and from the hotel
windows we saw and commiserated four vessels locked fast, their crews and
passengers suffering from cold and short rations for four days. The
change of wind made us glad of our fur jackets.
Duluth, situated on the rocky north, or Minnesota, shore of the extreme
western end of Lake Superior--otherwise St. Louis Bay--was apparently
planned in expectation of its one day becoming the principal centre of
commerce between America and Canada--in short, the great capital of the
lakes. Everything is on a large scale. The streets are broad; the wharves
and warehouses extensive; the hotels immense; the custom-house and other
public buildings massive and capacious enough to accommodate any number
of extra clerks when the rush of business shall come--a rush which is
still in the future. During the day and a half we spent there, the hotel
omnibus and one other team were the only locomotives, and a lame man and
a water-carrier with a patch over his eye the only dwellers in Duluth we
saw; while the people from our boat seemed to be the only visitors who
woke the echoes in the sleepy place. It was like a city in a fairy tale,
over which a spell had been cast; its very cleanliness was depressing,
and so suggestive of disuse, that I think a mass of mud scraped off the
road might have given some appearance of traffic and life to the scene.
There _are_ people in Duluth, however, though it is difficult to say
where they hide themselves; for some of our party went to service in a
little church on a hill, and came back charmed with the eloquence of the
clergyman and the sweetness of the voices in the quartette choir, to say
nothing of several pretty girls they noticed amongst the congregation.
Still, Duluth will always seem to me like a city in a dream. On the
opposite, or Wisconsin shore of the lake, is Superior City, a pretty,
half-built town, rising slowly into commercial importance. Unfortunately
we were unable to cross to it.
I cannot leave Duluth without speaking of the "girls" in the hotel, as
they were called, in order not to wound the sensitive democracy of the
Yankee nature, which abhors the name of servant. There were three in the
great dining-saloon, whose superabundance of empty chairs and tables gave
even greater dreariness to the house than its long, empty corridors.
Pretty fair girls they were, neat in dress, but so tightly laced that it
was painful to look at them. Their slow, stiff, automatic movements were
suggestive of machinery, and in keeping with the sleepy spell cast over
the town. All the lithe, living gracefulness of their figures was
destroyed for the sake of drawing in an inch or two of belt. Watching
them, I attacked my breakfast with greater energy, to prove to myself
that there was something substantial about the premises.
One word respecting the treatment of luggage in that part of the world by
porters and officials, whose organ of destructiveness seems to be
abnormally developed. Boxes were thrown pell-mell into the hold, or
tossed on end out of high baggage-vans, with such unnecessary violence
that nothing less than cases of solid iron or stronger metal could have
stood it. Trunks, "stationary" boxes warranted to stand any ill-usage,
were cracked and broken; and the poor emigrants' boxes, of comparatively
slight construction, soon became a mass of ruins, with their contents
scattered on the ground. It was the same everywhere--at Duluth, at
Glyndon, and at Fisher's Landing, where we took the Red River boat. At
Glyndon half the baggage was piled on an open truck, and the heavy rain
we passed through that night completed the ruin the officials began. A
member of the Hudson Bay Company, who had travelled a great deal over
this continent, said he found it best to carry his baggage in a small
hand-valise, or in a very large trunk so heavy that it required two men
to move it; anything between the two was invariably smashed.