Chapter 31

FALL THROUGH THE ICE--DANGEROUS ADVENTURE AT A RAPID--OPPONENTS GIVE IN--ORDERED TO LA CHINE--TREATMENT ON MY ARRIVAL--MANNERS, HABITS, AND SUPERSTITIONS OF THE INDIANS--FEROCIOUS REVENGE OF A SUPPOSED INJURY--DIFFERENT METHODS OF THE ROMAN CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT MISSIONARY--INDIAN COUNCILS--TRADITION OF THE FLOOD--BEAVER-HUNTING-- LANGUAGE.

Finding that my presence was more wanted at the outpost than elsewhere, I resolved on taking up my residence there for the winter 1831-32. Our active opponent gave us much annoyance, causing great expense to the Company, without any benefit to himself; on the contrary, it ultimately ruined him.

While accompanying our party on a trading excursion in the beginning of winter, I had a very narrow escape. We were travelling on the Gatineau, a very rapid stream that joins the Ottawa, a little below Hull. A young lad, interpreter to the opposition, and I, had one morning gone considerably in advance of the others, walking smartly to keep ourselves warm, when I suddenly broke through the ice. The current here running strong, I should soon have been swept under the ice, had I not, by extending my arms upon it on either side of me, kept my head above water. At the hazard of his own life, my companion came to my assistance; but the ice was too weak to admit of his approaching sufficiently near to reach me his hand; he therefore cut a long pole, and tying his belt to it, threw it to me; and laying hold of it, I dragged myself on the sound ice. But the danger was not yet over; the weather was intensely cold, so that my clothes were soon frozen solid upon me, and having no means of lighting a fire, I ran into the woods; and in order to keep my body from being frozen into the same mass with my clothes, continued running up and down with all my might, till the rest of the party arrived.

I had a still more narrow escape in the month of March ensuing. I had been on a visit to the post under my own immediate charge, termed head-quarters _par excellence_; returning to the post alone, I came to a place where our men, in order to avoid a long detour occasioned by a high and steep hill coming close to the river, were accustomed to draw their sledges upon the ice along the edge of a rapid. About the middle of the rapid, where the torrent is fiercest, the banks of the river are formed of rocks rising almost perpendicularly from the water's edge; and here they had to pass on a narrow ledge of ice, between the rock on the one side, and the foaming and boiling surge on the other. The ledge, at no time very broad, was now reduced, by the falling in of the water, to a strip of ice of about eighteen inches, or little more, adhering to the rock. The ice, however, seemed perfectly solid, and I made no doubt that, with caution, I should succeed in passing safely this formidable strait.

The weather having been very mild in the fore-part of the day, my shoes and socks had been saturated with wet, but were now frozen hard by the cold of the approaching night. Overlooking this circumstance, I attempted the dangerous passage; and had proceeded about halfway, when my foot slipped, and I suddenly found myself resting with one hip on the border of ice, while the rest of my body overhung the rapid rushing fearfully underneath. I was now literally in a state of agonizing suspense: to regain my footing was impossible; even the attempt to move might precipitate me into the rapid.

My first thought indeed was to throw myself in, and endeavour by swimming to reach the solid ice that bridged the river a short distance below; a glance at the torrent convinced me that this was a measure too desperate to be attempted;--I should have been dashed against the ice, or hurried beneath it by the current. But my time was not yet come. Within a few feet of the spot where I was thus suspended _in sublimis_, the rock projected a little outward, so as to break the force of the current. It struck me that a new border of ice might be formed at this place, under and parallel to that on which I was perched; exploring cautiously, therefore, with a stick which I fortunately had in my hand, all along and beneath me, I found my conjecture well founded; but whether the ice were strong enough to bear me, I could not ascertain. But it was my only hope of deliverance; letting myself down therefore gently, I planted my feet on the lower ledge, and clinging with the tenacity of a shell-fish to the upper, I crept slowly along till I reached land.

This autumn, I had the satisfaction of seeing all my opponents quit the field, some of whom had maintained a long and obstinate struggle; yet, although I had reason to congratulate myself on their departure, as it promised me relief from the painfully toilsome life I had led, I must do one of the parties, at least, the justice to say, that, in different circumstances, I should have beheld their departure with regret. Dey and McGillivray carried on the contest longer than the others, and did so without showing any of that rancorous feeling which the other petty traders manifested towards the Company. MacGillivray and myself, when travelling together, often shared the same blanket, and the same kettle; and found, that while this friendly feeling was mutually advantageous to ourselves, it did not in any way compromise the interests of our employers. I parted from him, wishing him every success in _any other_ line of business he might engage in.

After the removal of my competitors, I found the time to hang heavily on my hands; and the ease I had so often sighed for, I now could scarcely endure; but I was not allowed long time to sigh for a change. On the 5th of April an Iroquois came up from Montreal with a packet conveying orders to me to proceed forthwith to Lachine, whence I should embark by the opening of the navigation for the northern department. I was alone at the post when these unexpected orders came to hand, all the men being absent at the outpost; and as it behoved me to use the utmost diligence in order to get away ere winter travelling should break up, leaving an old squaw in charge, I set out for the outpost in quest of Mr. Cameron, who was appointed my successor; and on the 7th of April took my departure.

On arriving at the Grand River, I found travelling on the ice to be attended with great danger, and several accidents had already happened; but I had the good fortune to reach Grenville at the head of the Long Sault in safety; here, however, my farther progress was arrested for a fortnight, the roads being impassable. I arrived at Lachine in the end of April, and after handing in the documents relative to my late charge, Mr. K---- toldme I was at liberty to spend the intervening time until the embarkation, where and how I pleased. Gratified by this indulgence, I was about to frame a speech expressive of my gratitude, when he continued,--"for, Sir, you are to understand we do not keep a boarding-house here." This stopped my mouth, and I reserved my thanks for a future occasion; for I could not but feel, that being an officer of the Company, it was robbing me of a part of my pay under the pretext of an indulgence. Availing myself, however, of this ungenerous grant of freedom, I spent some halcyon days in the company of relatives most dear to me, and expected no interruption to my enjoyment until the time appointed for the embarkation: but a few days after I had joined my relatives in the vicinity of Montreal, I received a letter, commanding me, in the most peremptory manner, to repair to Lachine,--"circumstances not foreseen at my arrival from the interior required my departure without further delay." I accompanied the bearer of Mr. K----'s letter, and found, on arriving at Lachine, that I had been appointed to conduct some of Captain Back's party, who proved rather troublesome to him at Montreal, to the Chats, and there to await my passage to the north by the Brigade.

I had now served the Hudson's Bay Company faithfully and zealously for a period of twelve years, leading a life of hardship and toil, of which no idea can be formed except by those whose hard lot it may be to know it by experience. How enthusiastically I had laboured for them, may be better gathered from the foregoing narrative than from any statement I could here make. And what was my reward? I had no sooner succeeded in freeing my district from opposition, than I was ordered to resign my situation to another, who would enjoy the fruits of my labour:--when I arrived at the Company's head-quarters to take my departure for a remote district, I was ordered to provide for myself until I embarked; and when enjoying myself in the bosom of my family, to suit the convenience of one of their correspondents, I was torn away from them prematurely, and without warning,--treatment, which caused one of them so severe a shock as nearly to prove fatal!

Before I take leave of the Montreal department, it may be well to allude more particularly to the manners and customs of the natives. The mode of life the Algonquins lead, while at their village, has been already touched upon; within these few years a great change has taken place, not in their morals, but in their circumstances. The southern and western parts of their hunting-grounds are now nearly all possessed by the white man, whose encroachments extend farther and farther every year. Beaver meadows are now to be found in place of beaver dams; and rivers are crossed on bridges formed by the hand of man, where the labours of the beaver afforded a passage for the roving Indian and hunter only a few years before.

Happy change, it may be said; but so say not the Indians; the days of happiness are gone for them, at least for those of the present generation; though I have no doubt that their posterity may, in course of time, become reconciled to, and adopt those habits of life which their altered circumstances may require. A few have done so already, but many of them still remain on the most remote parts of their lauds, having no longer the means of enjoying themselves at their village, or of satisfying the avarice of priests and traders. Here they pursue, without restraint or interruption, the mode of life most congenial to their habits.

I have already observed, that I could discover but little difference between the (so called) Christian Indians, and their unbaptized countrymen, when beyond the surveillance of their priests. They practise all the superstitious rites of their forefathers, and place implicit confidence in the power of magic, although they admit that the same results cannot be obtained now, as formerly, in consequence, as they say, "of the Cross having come in contact with the Medicine." They have their genii of lakes, rivers, mountains, and forests, to whom they offer sacrifice. I was present at the sacrifice of a beaver, made by an Algonquin to his familiar, or "totem," in order to propitiate him, because he had been unsuccessful in hunting. The beaver was roasted without being skinned, the fur only being appropriated to the spirit, whilst the flesh afforded a luxurious feast to the sacrificer; and in this part of the ceremony I willingly participated.

When any of them is taken ill, the indisposition is ascribed to the effects of "bad medicine;" and the person is mentioned whom they suspect of having laid the disease upon them. Many violent deeds are committed to revenge these supposed injuries. An Algonquin, who had lost a child, blamed a _tête de boule_, who was domiciled at Lac de Sable, for his death. The ensuing spring the _tête de boule_ took a fancy to visit the Lake of Two Mountains, and set off in company with the Algonquins.

On arrival of the party at the Grand River, he who had lost his child invited the _tête de boule_ to his tent, and entertained him in the most friendly manner for a time, then suddenly drawing his knife, he plunged it into the side of his unsuspecting guest. The poor wretch fled, and concealed himself in a pig-sty, where his groans soon discovered him to the Algonquin, who, again seizing him, thrust his knife into his throat, and did not withdraw it until he ceased to live.

"Now," exclaimed his murderer, "I am avenged for the death of my child. You wanted to go to the Lake to be baptized, and here I have baptized you in your own blood."

Many other instances might be adduced to prove that the savage disposition of these Indians has not been greatly ameliorated by their profession of Christianity; they have, in fact, all the vices with but few of the virtues of their heathen countrymen.

They are immoderately fond of ardent spirits, men, women and--shocking to say--children. This hateful vice, which contributes more than any other to the debasement of human nature, seems to produce more baneful effects upon the Indian, both physically and morally, than upon the European. The worst propensities of his nature are excited by it. While under the influence of this demon he spares neither friend nor foe; and in many instances the members of his own family become the victims either of his fury or his lust.

The crime of incest is by no means unknown among them; rum, the greatest scourge and curse of the Indian race, is undoubtedly the principal cause of this dreadful corruption: but is it not strange that religion should have so little effect in reforming their manners? The Mississagays, the neighbours of the Algonquins, who speak the same language, were only converted a few years ago by the Methodists, and from being the most dissipated and depraved of Indians, are now become sober, industrious and devout.

It seems, therefore, impossible even for the most unprejudiced to avoid the conclusion that the difference in manners must in a great measure be ascribed to the different methods adopted by the Roman Catholic and Protestant missionaries in converting the natives. The Roman Catholic convert is first baptized, then instructed in the forms of worship, taught to repeat Pater nosters and Ave Marias, to make the sign of the cross, and to confess. He is now a member of the Church, and is dismissed to his woods--a Christian, can we say? The Methodists pursue a different course. Their converts must not only reform their lives, but give indubitable proofs that they are reformed; they are taught so as to understand thoroughly the sound principles of Christianity; and they must give an account of their faith, and a reason for the hope that is in them, before they are admitted as members of the Christian community. "The tree is known by its fruits."

The Sachems, or chiefs of the Algonquins, possess little or no authority, but their advice is of some weight There are gradations of rank in the chieftainship; the Kitchi Okima, or great chief, takes precedence at the Council, and propounds the subject of discussion; the inferior chiefs (Okimas) speak in turn, according to seniority; every old man, however, whether chief or not, is allowed to give his opinion, and the general voice of the assembly decides the question at issue. It is seldom, however, that any question arises requiring much deliberation in the present times of peace. When a party of strange Indians arrives at the village, a council is called to ascertain the means the community may possess of discharging properly the rites of hospitality; each individual states the modicum he is willing to contribute, in cash or in kind, and the proceeds, which are always sufficient to entertain the guests sumptuously, according to Indian ideas, while they remain, are placed at the disposal of the Kitchi Okima.

Councils are held and harangues delivered when they receive their annual presents from Government; these consist of blankets, cloth, ammunition, and a variety of small articles, all of which in their present impoverished state are highly valued by them. They profess an attachment to the British Government; but, like certain more civilized nations, they will fight for the cause that is likely to yield them most advantage. Their loyalty to Britain, therefore, is less to be depended on than their hatred to America. A general idea has gone abroad regarding their taciturnity which does not accord with my experience. Far from being averse to colloquial intercourse, they delight in it; none more welcome to an Indian wigwam than one who can talk freely. They pass the winter evenings in relating their adventures, hunting being their usual theme, or in telling stories; and often have I heard the woods resound with peals of laughter excited by their wit, for they too are witty in their own way.

Their tradition of the flood (_kitchi a tesoka_, or "great tale,") is somewhat remarkable. The world having been overflowed by water, all mankind perished but one family, who embarked in a large canoe, taking a variety of animals along with them. The canoe floated about for some time, when a musk-rat, tired of its confinement, jumped overboard and dived; it soon reappeared, with a mouthful of mud, which it deposited on the surface of the water, and from this beginning the new world was formed.

When the veracity of an Indian is doubted, he points to heaven with his forefinger, and exclaims:--

"He to whom we belong knows that what I say is true."

No white man trusts more firmly in the validity of a solemn oath than the Indian in this asseveration. Still it must be confessed that they are prone to falsehood; but they seem to allow themselves a much greater licence in this respect in their intercourse with the whites than amongst themselves.

When an Indian is about to enter a wigwam, he utters the word or sound "Quay" in a peculiar tone; the word repeated from within is considered as an invitation to enter. Should he neglect to announce himself in this way he is considered as ill-bred--an unmannerly boor. The left-hand side of the wigwam as you enter is considered the place of honour; here the father of the family and chief squaw take their station, the young men on the opposite side, and the women next to the door, or at the upper end of the fire-place, both ends being alike plebeian. When a person of respectability enters, the father, moving towards the door, resigns his place to his guest, places skins under him, and otherwise pays every attention to his comfort. They are extremely hospitable, and cheerfully share their last morsel with the stranger who may be in want. Hospitality, however, is a virtue which civilization rarely improves.

A good hunter always leaves his lodge by dawn of day, and seldom tastes food till he returns late at night. Hunting beavers is a most laborious occupation, and becomes more so in proportion to the scarcity of these animals; for this reason, that when a great number of beavers occupy a lake, their places of retreat are in closer proximity to each other, and for the most part inhabited; if the number be reduced, it is likely they will have the same places of retreat, and the hunter must bore through the ice, before he can ascertain whether they are inhabited or not.

The sagacity of their dogs is truly surprising. The beaver house being first destroyed by the hunter, the dogs are urged by a peculiar call to scent out their retreats, which they never fail to do, whatever may be the thickness of the ice. They keep running about the borders of the lake, their noses close to the ground, and the moment they discover a retreat, begin to bark and jump on the ice; the hunter then cuts a hole with his trench, and with a stick which he carries along with him feels for the beaver; should he find one, he introduces his bare arm into the hole, and seizing his prey by the tail, drags it out on the ice, where it is dispatched with a spear. There is less danger in this operation than one would imagine, for the beaver allows itself to be seized without a struggle, but sometimes inflicts severe wounds on his captor after he is taken out of the water.

When the retreat is not inhabited, the entrance to it is barred by sticks, and the hunter proceeds to chisel again, and continues his operations until the beaver is either taken, or shut out from all his haunts, in which case he is compelled to return to the house to take breath, where he is either shot or caught in a trap.

The language of these Indians is a dialect of the Sauteux or Bungee, intermixed with Cree, and a few words of French derivation. The greater part of them have a smattering of French or English; but the acquisition of a foreign language is extremely difficult to them, from the peculiar formation of their own, which wants the letter r. An Algonquin pronounces the word "marrow" "manno" or "mallo." Their dialect has all the softness of the Italian, but is extremely poor and defective.