Part 3

It was on the 28th day of August that we reached La Chine; the next day the “brigade,” as it was called, of bateaux was ready, and in the afternoon we set out on our voyage. Three men are found sufficient to conduct an empty bateau of about two tons burthen up the St. Lawrence, but if the bateau be laden more are generally allowed. They ascend the stream by means of poles, oars, and sails. Where the current is very strong, they make use of the former, keeping as close as possible to the shore, in order to avoid the current, and to have the advantage of shallow water to pole in. The men set their poles altogether at the same moment, and all work at the same side of the bateau; the steersman, however, shifts his pole occasionally from side to side, in order to keep the vessel in an even direction. The poles commonly used are about eight feet in length, extremely light, and headed with iron. On coming to a deep bay or inlet, the men abandon the poles, take to their oars, and strike if possible directly across the mouth of the bay; but in many places the current proves so strong that it is absolutely impossible to stem it by means of oars, and they are obliged to pole entirely round the bays. Whenever the wind is favourable they set their sail; but it is only at the upper end of the river, beyond the rapids, or on the lakes or broad parts of it, where the current is not swift, that the sail by itself is sufficient to impel them forward.

The exertion it requires to counteract the force of the stream by means of poles and oars is so great, that the men are obliged to stop very frequently to take breath. The places at which they stop are regularly ascertained; some of them, where the current is very rapid, are not more than half a mile distant one from the other; others one or two, but none of them more than four miles apart. Each of these places the boatmen, who are almost all French Canadians, denominate “une pipe,” because they are allowed to stop at it and fill their pipes. A French Canadian is scarcely ever without a pipe in his mouth, whether working at the oar or plough; whether on foot, or on horseback; indeed, so much addicted are the people to smoking, that by the burning of the tobacco in their pipes they commonly ascertain the distance from one place to another. Such a place, they say, is three pipes off, that is, it is so far off that you may smoke three pipes full of tobacco whilst you go thither. A pipe, in the most general acceptation of the word, seemed to be about three quarters of an English mile.

[Sidenote: LAKE ST. LOUIS.]

Lake St. Louis, commencing, or rather terminating, at La Chine, for that village stands at the lower end of it, is about twelve miles in length and four in breadth. At its uppermost extremity it receives a large branch of the Utawas River, and also the south-west branch of the River St. Lawrence, which by some geographers is called the River Cadaraqui, and by others the River Iroquois; but in the country, generally speaking, the whole of that river, running from Lake Ontario to the Gulph of St. Lawrence, goes simply under the name of the St. Lawrence.

At the upper end of Lake St. Louis the water is very shallow, owing to the banks of mud and sand washed up by the two rivers. These very extensive banks, are entirely covered with reeds, so that when a vessel sails over them she appears at a little distance to be absolutely sailing over dry land. As we passed along this part of the lake we were enveloped with clouds of little insects, different from any I ever saw before or afterwards in the country; but they are common, it is said, on various parts of the River St. Lawrence. Their size was somewhat larger than that of the gnat; their colour a pure white; and so delicately were they formed, that by the slightest touch they were destroyed and reduced to powder. They were particularly attracted by any white object, and having once alighted were not to be driven away but by force. The leaves of a book, which I happened to have in my hand, were in a few seconds so thickly covered by them that it was impossible to discern a single letter, and no sooner was one swarm of them brushed off than a fresh one immediately alighted. These insects have very broad wings in proportion to their size, and fly heavily, so that it is only when the air is remarkably calm that they can venture to make their appearance.

[Sidenote: ENCAMPMENT.]

About sun-set on this, the first evening of our voyage, we reached the island of Perot, situated at the mouth of the Utawas River. This island is about fourteen miles in circumference; its soil is fertile, and it is well cultivated. There are two considerable villages near its center, but towards Point St. Claire, at its lower extremity, the settlements are but very few. We landed at the point, and pitched our tent in a meadow which stood bordering upon the water. Here the bateaux were drawn up, and having been properly secured, the different crews, amounting in all to upwards of fifty men, divided themselves into small parties, and kindled fires along the shore, in order to cook their provisions for the succeeding day, and to keep themselves warm during the night. These men, who are engaged in conducting bateaux in Canada, are, as I have before observed, a very hardy race: when the weather is fair, they sleep on the grass at night, without any other covering than a short blanket, scarcely reaching down to their knees; during wet weather a sail or a blanket to the weather side, spread on poles stuck into the ground in an inclined direction, is all the shelter they deem necessary. On setting out each man is furnished with a certain allowance of salted pork, biscuit, pease, and brandy; the pease and biscuit they boil with some of the pork into porridge, and a large vessel full of it, is generally kept at the head of the bateau, for the use of the crew when they stop in the course of the day. This porridge, or else cold fat salted pork, with cucumbers, constitutes the principal part of their food. The cucumber is a fruit that the lower classes of the French Canadians are extremely fond of; they use it however in a very indifferent state, as they never pull it until it has attained a large size, and is become yellow and seedy. Cucumbers thus mellow, chopped into small pieces without being peeled, and afterwards mixed with sour cream, is one of their favourite dishes.

At day-break on the second morning of our voyage, we quitted the island of Perot, and crossed the Utawas River, in order to gain the mouth of the south-west branch of the St. Lawrence. A tremendous scene is here presented to the view; each river comes rushing down into the lake, over immense rocks, with an impetuosity which, seemingly, nothing can resist. The waves are as high as what are commonly met with in the British Channel during a smart breeze, and the breakers so numerous and dangerous, that one would imagine a bateau could not possibly live in the midst of them; and indeed, unless it were navigated by men intimately acquainted with the place, and very expert at the same time, there would be evident danger of its being filled with water. Several times, as we passed through the breakers, the water dashed over the sides of our bateau. Tremendous and dangerous, however, as the rapids are at this spot, they are much less so than some of those met with higher up the River St. Lawrence.

The water of the Utawas River is remarkably clear, and of a bright greenish colour; that of the St. Lawrence, on the contrary, is muddy, owing to its passing over deep beds of marl for some miles before it enters into Lake St. Louis. For a considerable way down the lake the waters of the two rivers may be plainly distinguished from each other.

[Sidenote: THE RAPIDS.]

The Rapids immediately at the mouth of the south-west branch of the St. Lawrence are called “Les Cascades,” or, “Le Saut de Trou.” In laden bateaux it is no arduous task to shoot down them, but it is impossible to mount against the stream even in such as are empty. In order to avoid the laborious task therefore of carrying them along the shore past the rapids, as used formerly to be done, a canal with a double lock has been made here at a great expence. This canal extends but a very little way, not more than fifty yards perhaps. Beyond this there is a succession of other rapids, the first of which, called “Le Saut de Buisson” on account of the closeness of the woods along the shores on each side, is so strong, that in order to pass it, it is necessary to lighten the bateaux very considerably. If the cargoes are large, they are wholly taken out at once, and sent forward in carts to the distance of a mile and a half, past all the rapids. The men are always obliged here to get out of the bateaux, and haul them along with ropes, it being wholly impracticable to counteract the force of the current by means of poles alone.

The passage of these rapids is so very tedious, that we here quitted the bateaux, took our guns in hand, and proceeded on foot to “Le Coteau des Cedres,” the Hill of Cedars, about nine miles higher up the river. In going thither you soon lose sight of the few straggling houses at the cascades, and enter the recesses of a remarkably thick wood, whose solemn gloom, together with the loud roaring of the waters at a distance, and the wild appearance of every object around you, inspire the mind with a sort of pleasing horror. As you approach “Le Coteau des Cedres,” the country assumes a softer aspect; cultivated fields and neat cottages once more appear in view, and the river, instead of being agitated by tremendous rapids, is here seen gliding on with an even current between its lofty banks.

The village of the Hill of Cedars contains about thirty houses, amongst which we were agreeably surprised to find a remarkably neat and excellent tavern, kept by an English woman. We remained here until three in the afternoon, when we again set off on foot, partly for the pleasure of beholding, from the top of the steep banks, the many noble and beautiful prospects laid open before us, and partly for the pleasure of stopping occasionally to chat with the lively French girls, that, during this delicious season of the year, sat spinning in groups at the doors of the cottages. About five o’clock the bateaux overtook us; but after proceeding in them for about two miles, we again landed to escape the tedious process of ascending fresh rapids. These are called the rapids “du Coteau du Lac St. François;” they are several miles in length, and though not the most dangerous, are yet the most tremendous to appearance of any in the whole river, the white breakers being distinctly visible at the distance of four miles; some travellers have gone so far as to represent them as even more terrible to the beholder than the falls of Niagara, but this is a very exaggerated account. Boats are here carried down with the stream at the rate of fourteen or fifteen miles an hour, according to the best information I could procure on the subject, though the Canadian boatmen and others declare that they are carried down at the rate of twenty miles in the hour. At some of the rapids, higher up the river, the current is considerably swifter than at this place.

[Sidenote: THE RAPIDS.]

In descending these rapids they pass through the breakers in the middle of the river, but in going up they keep close in to the shore, on the north-west side, and being here sheltered by a numerous cluster of islands, which break the force of the current, and having the benefit of a short canal and locks, they get past the rapids with less difficulty even than they pass the cascades. One of the islands here, farther removed from the shore than the rest, is called Prisoners Island, having been allotted for the residence of some of the American prisoners during the last war. There were some buildings on the island at that time, but it has been quite deserted since, on account of the great difficulty of getting to it through the strong rapids. During the war, an officer, who had compelled some of the Canadians, notwithstanding their remonstrances, to make an attempt to reach the island at an improper season, perished, with a great number of men, in going thither. Of the whole party one alone escaped with his life. The St. Lawrence is here about two miles wide.

This evening, the second of our voyage, the bateaux were drawn up for the night at the bottom of “Le Coteau du Lac,” the Hill of the Lake, and we pitched our tent on the margin of a wood, at a little distance from the river. The next morning we proceeded again on foot for about two miles, when we came to a tavern, where we waited the arrival of the bateaux. The people of this house were English. From hence upwards there are but few French to be met with.

[Sidenote: LAKE ST. FRANCOIS.]

We were detained here nearly half the day in endeavouring to procure a fresh man, one of the conductor’s crew having been seized with an intermittent fever. At last a man from a neighbouring settlement made his appearance, and we proceeded on our voyage. We now entered Lake St. François, which is about twenty-five miles in length, and five in breadth; but the wind being unfavourable, we were prevented from proceeding farther upon it than Point au Baudet, at which place the boundary line commences, that separates the upper from the lower province. When the wind comes from the south-west, the immense body of water in the lake is impelled, directly towards this point, and a surge breaks in upon the beach, as tremendous as is seen on the sea-shore. There was one solitary house here, which proved to be a tavern, and afforded us a well-drest supper of venison, and decent accommodation for the night.

The next day the wind was not more favourable; but as it was considerably abated, we were enabled to prosecute our voyage, coasting along the shores of the lake. This was a most laborious and tedious business, on account of the numerous bays and inlets, which the wind was not sufficiently abated to suffer us to cross at their mouths: notwithstanding all the difficulties, however, we had to contend with, we advanced nearly twenty-five miles in the course of the day.

At the head of Lake St. François, we landed on a small island, called “Isle aux Raisins,” on account of the number of wild vines growing upon it. The bateaux men gathered great quantities of the grapes, wherewith the trees were loaded, and also an abundance of plumbs, which they devoured with great avidity. Neither of the fruits, however, were very tempting to persons whose palates had been accustomed to the taste of garden fruits. The grapes were sour, and not larger than peas; and as for the plumbs, though much larger in size, yet their taste did not differ materially from that of sloes.

[Sidenote: ISLANDS.]

Beyond L’Isle aux Raisins, in the narrow part of the river, there are several other islands, the largest of which called L’isle St. Regis, is near ten miles in length. All these islands still continue in the possession of the Indians, and many of them, being situated as nearly as possible in the middle of the river, which here divides the British territory from that of the United States, it yet remains to be determined of what territory they form a part. It is sincerely to be desired that this matter may be adjusted amicably in due time. A serious altercation has already taken place about an island similarly situated in Detroit River, that will be more particularly mentioned hereafter. The Indians not only retain possession of these different islands, but likewise of the whole of the south-east shore, of the St. Lawrence, situated within the bounds of the United States; they likewise have considerable strips of land on the opposite shore, within the British dominions, bordering upon the river; these they have reserved to themselves for hunting. The Iroquois Indians have a village upon the Isle of St. Regis, and another also upon the main land, on the south-east shore; as we passed it, several of the inhabitants put off in canoes, and exchanged unripe heads[3] of Indian corn with the men for bread; they also brought with them some very fine wild ducks and fish, which they disposed of to us on very moderate terms.

Footnote 3:

The heads of Indian corn, before they become hard, are esteemed a great delicacy; the most approved method of dressing, is to parboil, and afterwards roast them.

On the fourth night of our voyage we encamped, as usual, on the main land opposite the island of St. Regis; and the excellent viands we had procured from the Indians having been cooked, we set down to supper before a large fire, materials for which are never wanting in this woody country. The night was uncommonly serene, and we were induced to remain until a late hour in front of our tent, talking of the various occurrences in the course of the day; but we had scarcely retired to rest, when the sky became overcast, a dreadful storm arose, and by day-break the next morning we found ourselves, and every thing belonging to us, drenched with rain. Our situation now was by no means agreeable; torrents still came pouring down; neither our tent nor the woods afforded us any shelter, and the wind being very strong, and as adverse as it could blow, there was no prospect of our being enabled speedily to get into better quarters. In this state we had remained for a considerable time, when one of the party, who had been rambling about in order to discover what sort of a neighbourhood we were in, returned with the pleasing intelligence that there was a house at no great distance, and that the owner had politely invited us to it. It was the house of an old provincial officer, who had received a grant of land in this part of the country for his past services. We gladly proceeded to it, and met with a most cordial welcome from the captain and his fair daughters, who had provided a plenteous breakfast, and spared no pains to make their habitation, during our stay, as pleasing to us as possible. We felt great satisfaction at the idea, that it would be in our power to spend the remainder of the day with these worthy and hospitable people; but alas, we had all formed an erroneous opinion of the weather; the wind suddenly veered about; the sun broke through the thick clouds; the conductor gave the parting order; and in a few minutes we found ourselves once more seated in our bateau.

[Sidenote: THE LONG FALL.]

From hence upwards, for the distance of forty miles, the current of the river is extremely strong, and numberless rapids are to be encountered, which, though not so tremendous to appearance as those at the Cascades, and “Le Coteau du Lac,” are yet both more dangerous and more difficult to pass. The great danger, however, consists in going down them; it arises from the shallowness of the water and the great number of sharp rocks, in the midst of which the vessels are hurried along with such impetuosity, that if they unfortunately get into a wrong channel, nothing can save them from being dashed to pieces; but so intimately are the people usually employed on this river acquainted with the different channels, that an accident of the sort is scarcely ever heard of. “Le Long Saut,” the Long Fall or Rapid, situated about thirty miles above Lake St. Francis, is the most dangerous of any one in the river, and so difficult a matter is it to pass it, that it requires no less than six men on shore to haul a single bateau against the current. There is a third canal with locks at this place, in order to avoid a point, which it would be wholly impracticable to weather in the ordinary way. These different canals and locks have been made at the expence of government, and the profits arising from the tolls paid by every bateau that passes through them are placed in the public treasury. At these rapids, and at several of the others, there are very extensive flour and saw mills.

On the fifth night we arrived at a small farm house, at the top of the “Long Saut,” wet from head to foot, in consequence of our having been obliged to walk past the rapids through woods and bushes still dripping after the heavy rain that had fallen in the morning. The woods in this neighbourhood are far more majestic than on any other part of the St. Lawrence; the pines in particular are uncommonly tall, and seem to wave their tops in the very clouds. In Canada, pines grow on the richest soils; but in the United States they grow mostly on poor ground: a tract of land covered solely with pines is there generally denominated “a pine barren,” on account of its great poverty.

[Sidenote: WILD PIGEONS.]

During a considerable part of the next day, we also proceeded on foot, in order to escape the tedious passage up the “Rapide Plat,” and some of the other dangerous rapids in this part of the river. As we passed along, we had excellent diversion in shooting pigeons, several large flights of which we met with in the woods. The wild pigeons of Canada are not unlike the common English wood pigeons, except that they are of a much smaller size: their flesh is very well flavoured. During particular years, these birds come down from the northern regions in flights that it is marvellous to tell of. A gentleman of the town of Niagara assured me, that once as he was embarking there on board ship for Toronto, a flight of them was observed coming from that quarter; that as he sailed over Lake Ontario to Toronto, forty miles distant from Niagara, pigeons were seen flying over head the whole way in a contrary direction to that in which the ship proceeded; and that on arriving at the place of his destination, the birds were still observed coming down from the north in as large bodies as had been noticed at any one time during the whole voyage; supposing, therefore, that the pigeons moved no faster than the vessel, the flight, according to this gentleman’s account, must at least have extended eighty miles. Many persons may think this story surpassing belief; for my own part, however, I do not hesitate to give credit to it, knowing, as I do, the respectability of the gentleman who related it, and the accuracy of his observation. When these birds appear in such great numbers, they often light on the borders of rivers and lakes, and in the neighbourhood of farm houses, at which time they are so unwary that a man with a short stick might easily knock them down by hundreds. It is not oftener than once in seven or eight years, perhaps, that such large flocks of these birds are seen in the country. The years in which they appear are denominated “pigeon years.”

There are also “bear years” and “squirrel years.” This was both a bear and a squirrel year. The former, like the pigeons, came down from the northern regions, and were most numerous in the neighbourhood of lakes Ontario and Erie, and along the upper parts of the River St. Lawrence. On arriving at the borders of these lakes, or of the river, if the opposite shore was in sight, they generally took to the water, and endeavoured to reach it by swimming. Prodigious numbers of them were killed in crossing the St. Lawrence by the Indians, who had hunting encampments, at short distances from each other, the whole way along the banks of the river, from the island of St. Regis to Lake Ontario. One bear, of a very large size, boldly entered the river in the face of our bateaux, and was killed by some of our men whilst swimming from the main land to one of the islands. In the woods it is very rare that bears will venture to attack a man; but several instances that had recently occurred were mentioned to us, where they had attacked a single man in a canoe whilst swimming, and so very strong are they in the water, that the men thus set upon, being unarmed, escape narrowly with their lives.

[Sidenote: BEARS AND SQUIRRELS.]