At Norway House I remained for nearly a month with my old friend Mr Russ, who in a former part of this veracious book is described as being a very ardent and scientific fisher, extremely partial to strong rods and lines, and entertaining a powerful antipathy to slender rods and flies!
Little change had taken place in the appearance of the fort. The clerks’ house was still as full, and as noisy, as when Polly told frightful stories to the greenhorns on the point of setting out for the wild countries of Mackenzie River and New Caledonia. The Indians of the village at Rossville plodded on in their usual peaceful way, under the guidance of their former pastor; and the ladies of the establishment were as blooming as ever.
One fine morning, just as Mr Russ and I were sauntering down to the river with our rods, a north canoe, full of men, swept round the point above the fort, and grounded near the wharf. Our rods were soon cast aside, and we were speedily congratulating Mr and Mrs Bain on their safe arrival. These were to be my companions on the impending voyage to Canada, and the canoe in which they had arrived was to be our conveyance.
Mr Bain was a good-natured, light-hearted Highlander, and his lady a pretty lass of twenty-three.
On the following morning all was ready; and soon after breakfast we were escorted down to the wharf by all the people in the fort, who crowded to the rocks to witness our departure.
Our men, eight in number, stood leaning on their paddles near the wharf; and, truly, a fine athletic set of fellows they were. The beautifully-shaped canoe floated lightly on the river, notwithstanding her heavy cargo, and the water rippled gently against her sides as it swept slowly past. This frail bark, on which our safety and progression depended, was made of birch bark sewed together, lined in the inside with thin laths of wood, and pitched on the seams with gum. It was about thirty-six feet long, and five broad in the middle, from whence it tapered either way to a sharp edge. It was calculated to carry from twenty to twenty-five hundredweight, with eight or nine men, besides three passengers, and provisions for nearly a month. And yet, so light was it, that two men could carry it a quarter of a mile without resting. Such was the machine in which, on the 20th August 1845, we embarked; and, after bidding our friends at Norway House adieu, departed for Canada, a distance of nearly two thousand three hundred miles through the uninhabited forests of America.
Our first day was propitious, being warm and clear; and we travelled a good distance ere the rapidly thickening shades of evening obliged us to put ashore for the night. The place on which we encamped was a flat rock which lay close to the river’s bank, and behind it the thick forest formed a screen from the north wind. It looked gloomy enough on landing; but, ere long, a huge fire was kindled on the rock, our two snow-white tents pitched, and supper in course of preparation, so that things soon began to wear a gayer aspect. Supper was spread in Mr Bain’s tent by one of the men, whom we appointed to the office of cook and waiter. And when we were seated on our blankets and cloaks upon the ground, and Mr Bain had stared placidly at the fire for five minutes, and then at his wife (who presided at the board) for ten, we began to feel quite jolly, and gazed with infinite satisfaction at the men, who ate their supper out of the same kettle, in the warm light of the camp-fire. Our first bed was typical of the voyage, being hard and rough, but withal much more comfortable than many others we slept upon afterwards; and we were all soon as sound asleep upon the rock in the forest as if we had been in feather-beds at home.
The beds on which a traveller in this country sleeps are various and strange. Sometimes he reposes on a pile of branches of the pine-tree; sometimes on soft downy moss; occasionally on a pebbly beach or a flat rock; and not unfrequently on rough gravel and sand. Of these the moss bed is the most agreeable, and the sandy one the worst.
Early on the following morning, long before daylight, we were roused from our slumbers to re-embark; and now our journey may be said to have commenced in earnest. Slowly and silently we stepped into the canoe, and sat down in our allotted places, while the men advanced in silence, and paddled up the quiet river in a very melancholy sort of mood. The rising sun, however, dissipated these gloomy feelings; and after breakfast, which we took on a small island near the head of Jack River, we revived at once, and started with a cheering song, in which all joined. Soon after, we rounded a point of the river, and Lake Winnipeg, calm and clear as crystal, glittering in the beams of the morning sun, lay stretched out before us to the distant and scarcely perceptible horizon. Every pleasure has its alloy, and the glorious calm, on which we felicitated ourselves not a little, was soon ruffled by a breeze, which speedily increased so much as to oblige us to encamp near Montreal Point, being too strong for us to venture across the traverse of five or six miles now before us. Here, then, we remained the rest of the day and night, rather disappointed that delay should have occurred so soon.
Next day we left our encampment early, and travelled prosperously till about noon, when the wind again increased to such a degree that we were forced to put ashore on a point, where we remained for the next two days in grumbling inactivity.
There is nothing more distressing and annoying than being wind-bound in these wild and uninhabited regions. One has no amusement except reading, or promenading about the shore of the lake. Now, although this may be very delightful to a person of a romantic disposition, it was anything but agreeable to us, as the season was pretty far advanced, and the voyage long; besides, I had no gun, having parted with mine before leaving Norway House, and no books had been brought, as we did not calculate upon being wind-bound. I was particularly disappointed at not having brought my gun, for while we lay upon the rocks one fine day, gazing gloomily on the foaming lake, a black bear was perceived walking slowly round the bottom of the bay formed by the point on which we were encamped. It was hopeless to attempt killing him, as Mr Bruin was not fool enough to permit us to attack him with axes. After this a regular course of high winds commenced, which retarded us very much, and gave us much uneasiness as well as annoyance. A good idea of the harassing nature of our voyage across Lake Winnipeg may be obtained from the following page or two of my journal, as I wrote it on the spot:—
Monday, 25th August.—The wind having moderated this morning, we left the encampment at an early hour, and travelled uninterruptedly till nearly eight o’clock, when it began to blow so furiously that we were obliged to run ashore and encamp. All day the gale continued, but in the evening it moderated, and we were enabled to proceed a good way ere night closed in.
Tuesday, 26th.—Rain fell in torrents during the night. The wind, too, was high, and we did not leave our encampment till after breakfast. We made a good day’s journey, however, travelling about forty miles; and at night pitched our tents on a point of rock, the only camping-place, as our guide told us, within ten miles. No dry ground was to be found in the vicinity, so we were fain to sleep upon the flattest rock we could find, with only one blanket under us. This bed, however, was not so disagreeable as might be imagined; its principal disadvantage being that, should it happen to rain, the water, instead of sinking into the ground, forms a little pond below you, deep or shallow, according to the hollowness or flatness of the rock on which you repose.
Wednesday, 27th.—Set out early this morning, and travelled till noon, when the wind again drove us ashore, where we remained, in no very happy humour, all day. Mr Bain and I played the flute for pastime.
Thursday, 28th.—The persevering wind blew so hard that we remained in the encampment all day. This was indeed a dismal day; for, independently of being delayed, which is bad enough, the rain fell so heavily that it began to penetrate through our tents; and, as if not content with this, a gust of wind more violent than usual tore the fastenings of my tent out of the ground, and dashed it over my head, leaving me exposed to the pitiless pelting of the storm. Mr Bain’s tent, being in a more sheltered spot, fortunately escaped.
Friday, 29th.—The weather was much improved to-day, but it still continued to blow sufficiently to prevent our starting. As the wind moderated, however, in the evening, the men carried the baggage down to the beach, to have it in readiness for an early start on the morrow.
Saturday, 30th.—In the morning we found that the wind had again risen, so as to prevent our leaving the encampment. This detention is really very tiresome. We have no amusement except reading a few uninteresting books, eating without appetite, and sleeping inordinately. Oh that I were possessed of the Arabian Nights’ mat, which transported its owner whithersoever he listed! There is nothing for it, however, but patience; and assuredly I have a good example in poor Mrs Bain, who, though little accustomed to such work, has not given utterance to a word of complaint since we left Norway House. It is now four days since we pitched our tents on this vile point. How long we may still remain is yet to be seen.
Thursday, September 4th.—The wind was still very strong this morning; but so impatient had we become at our repeated detentions, that, with one accord, we consented to do or die! So, after launching and loading the canoe with great difficulty, owing to the immense waves that thundered against the shore, we all embarked and pushed off. After severe exertion, and much shipping of water, we at length came to the mouth of the Winnipeg River, up which we proceeded a short distance, and arrived at Fort Alexander.
Thus had we taken fifteen days to coast along Lake Winnipeg, a journey that is usually performed in a third of that time.
Fort Alexander belongs to the Lac la Pluie district; but being a small post, neither famous for trade nor for appearance, I will not take the trouble of describing it. We only remained a couple of hours to take in provisions in the shape of a ham, a little pork, and some flour, and then re-embarking, commenced the ascent of Winnipeg River.
The travelling now before us was widely different from that of the last fifteen days. Our men could no longer rest upon their paddles when tired, as they used to do on the level waters of the lake. The river was a rapid one; and towards evening we had an earnest of the rough work in store for us, by meeting in rapid succession with three waterfalls, to surmount which we were obliged to carry the canoe and cargo over the rocks, and launch them above the falls. While the men were engaged in this laborious duty, Mr Bain and I discovered a great many plum-trees laden with excellent fruit, of which we ate as many as we conveniently could, and then filling our caps and handkerchiefs, embarked with our prize. They were a great treat to us, after our long abstinence from everything but salt food; and I believe we demolished enough to have killed a whole parish school-boys, master, usher, and all! But in voyages like these one may take great liberties with one’s interior with perfect impunity.
About sunset we encamped in a picturesque spot near the top of a huge waterfall, whose thundering roar, as it mingled with the sighing of the night wind through the bushes and among the precipitous rocks around us, formed an appropriate and somewhat romantic lullaby.
On the following morning we were aroused from our slumbers at daybreak; and in ten minutes our tents were down and ourselves in the canoe, bounding merrily up the river, while the echoing woods and dells responded to the lively air of “Rose Blanche,” sung by the men as we swept round point after point and curve after curve of the noble river, which displayed to our admiring gaze every variety of wild and woodland scenery—now opening up a long vista of sloping groves of graceful trees, beautifully variegated with the tints of autumnal foliage, and sprinkled with a profusion of wildflowers; and anon surrounding us with immense cliffs and precipitous banks of the grandest and most majestic aspect, at the foot of which the black waters rushed impetuously past, and gurgling into white foam as they sped through a broken and more interrupted channel, finally sprang over a mist-shrouded clift and, after boiling madly onwards for a short space, resumed their silent, quiet course through peaceful scenery. As if to enhance the romantic wildness of the scene, upon rounding a point we came suddenly upon a large black bear, which was walking leisurely along the bank of the river. He gazed at us in surprise for a moment; and then, as if it had suddenly occurred to him that guns might be in the canoe, away he went helter-skelter up the bank, tearing up the ground in his precipitate retreat, and vanished among the bushes. Fortunately for him, there was not a gun in the canoe, else his chance of escape would have been very small indeed, as he was only fifty yards or so from us when we first discovered him.
We made ten portages of various lengths during the course of the day: none of them exceeded a quarter of a mile, while the most were merely a few yards. They were very harassing, however, being close to each other; and often we loaded, unloaded, and carried the canoe and cargo overland several times in the distance of half a mile.
On the 7th we left the encampment at an early hour, and made one short portage a few minutes after starting. After breakfast, as we paddled quietly along, we descried three canoes coming towards us, filled with Indians of the Seauteaux tribe. They gave us a few fresh ducks in exchange for some pork and tobacco, with which they were much delighted. After a short conversation between them and one of our men, who understood the language, we parted, and proceeded on our way. A little rain fell during the day, but in the afternoon the sun shone out and lighted up the scenery. The forests about this part of the river wore a much more cheerful aspect than those of the lower countries, being composed chiefly of poplar, birch, oak, and willows, whose beautiful light-green foliage had a very pleasing effect upon eyes long accustomed to the dark pines along the shores of Hudson Bay.
In the afternoon we met another canoe, in which we saw a gentleman sitting. This strange sight set us all speculating as to who it could be, for we knew that all the canoes accustomed annually to go through these wilds had long since passed. We were soon enlightened, however, on the subject. Both canoes made towards a flat rock that offered a convenient spot for landing on; and the stranger introduced himself as Dr Rae. He was on his way to York Factory, for the purpose of fitting out at that post an expedition for the survey of the small part of the North American coast left unexplored by Messrs Dease and Simpson, which will then prove beyond a doubt whether or not there is a communication by water between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans round the north of America. Dr Rae appeared to be just the man for such an expedition. He was very muscular and active, full of animal spirits, and had a fine intellectual countenance. He was considered, by those who knew him well, to be one of the best snow-shoe walkers in the service, was also an excellent rifle-shot, and could stand an immense amount of fatigue. Poor fellow! greatly will he require to exert all his abilities and powers of endurance. He does not proceed as other expeditions have done—namely, with large supplies of provisions and men—but merely takes a very small supply of provisions, and ten or twelve men. These, however, are all to be of his own choosing, and will doubtless be men of great experience in travelling among the wild regions of North America. The whole expedition is fitted out at the expense of the Hudson Bay Company. The party are to depend almost entirely on their guns for provisions; and after proceeding in two open boats round the north-western shores of Hudson Bay as far as they may find it expedient or practicable, are to land, place their boats in security for the winter, and then penetrate into these unexplored regions on foot. After having done as much as possible towards the forwarding of the object of his journey, Dr Rae and his party are to spend the long dreary winter with the Esquimaux, and commence operations again early in the spring. He is of such a pushing, energetic character, however, that there is every probability he will endeavour to prosecute his discoveries during winter, if at all practicable. How long he will remain exploring among these wild regions is uncertain; but he may be two, perhaps three years. There is every reason to believe that this expedition will be successful, as it is fitted out by a Company intimately acquainted with the difficulties and dangers of the country through which it will have to pass, and the best methods of overcoming and avoiding them. Besides, the doctor himself is well accustomed to the life he will have to lead; and enters upon it, not with the vague and uncertain notions of Back and Franklin, but with a pretty correct apprehension of the probable routine of procedure, and the experience of a great many years spent in the service of the Hudson Bay Company (see note 1). After a few minutes’ conversation we parted, and pursued our respective journeys.
Towards sunset we encamped on the margin of a small lake, or expanse of the river; and soon the silence of the forest was broken by the merry voices of our men, and by the crashing of the stately trees, as they fell under the axes of the voyageurs. The sun’s last rays streamed across the water in a broad red glare, as if jealous of the huge campfire, which now rose crackling among the trees, casting a ruddy glow upon our huts, and lighting up the swarthy faces of our men as they assembled round it to rest their weary limbs, and to watch the operations of the cook while he prepared their evening meal.
In less than an hour after we landed, the floor of our tent was covered with a smoking dish of fried pork, a huge ham, a monstrous teapot, and various massive slices of bread, with butter to match. To partake of these delicacies, we seated ourselves in Oriental fashion, and sipped our tea in contemplative silence, as we listened to the gentle murmur of a neighbouring brook, and gazed through the opening of our tent at the voyageurs, while they ate their supper round the fire, or, reclining at length upon the grass, smoked their pipes in silence.
Supper was soon over, and I went out to warm myself, preparatory to turning in for the night. The men had supped, and their huge forms were now stretched around the fire, enveloped in clouds of tobacco smoke, which curled in volumes from their unshaven lips. They were chatting and laughing over tales of bygone days; and just as I came up they were begging Pierre the guide to relate a tale of some sort or other. “Come, Pierre,” said a tall, dark-looking fellow, whose pipe, eyes, and hair were of the same jetty hue, “tell us how that Ingin was killed on the Labrador coast by a black bear. Baptiste, here, never heard how it happened, and you know he’s fond of wild stories.”
“Well,” returned the guide, “since you must have it, I’ll do what I can; but don’t be disappointed if it isn’t so interesting as you would wish. It’s a simple tale, and not over-long.” So saying, the guide disposed himself in a more comfortable attitude, refilled his pipe, and after blowing two or three thick clouds to make sure of its keeping alight, gave, in nearly the following words, an account of:—
The Death of Wapwian.
“It is now twenty years since I saw Wapwian, and during that time I have travelled far and wide in the plains and forests of America. I have hunted the buffalo with the Seauteaux, in the prairies of the Saskatchewan; I have crossed the Rocky Mountains with the Blackfeet, and killed the black bear with the Abinikies, on the coasts of Labrador; but never, among all the tribes that I have visited, have I met an Indian like Wapwian. It was not his form or his strength that I admired, though the first was graceful, and the latter immense; but his disposition was so kind, and affectionate, and noble, that all who came in contact with him loved and respected him. Yet, strange to say, he was never converted by the Roman Catholic missionaries who from time to time visited his village. He listened to them with respectful attention, but always answered that he could worship the Great Manitou better as a hunter in the forest than as a farmer in the settlements of the white men.
“Well do I remember the first time I stumbled upon the Indian village in which he lived. I had set out from Montreal with two trappers to pay a visit to the Labrador coast; we had travelled most of the way in a small Indian canoe, coasting along the northern shore of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and reconnoitring in the woods for portages to avoid rounding long capes and points of land, and sometimes in search of game; for we depended almost entirely upon our guns for food.
“It was upon one of the latter occasions that I went off, accompanied by one of the trappers, while the other remained to watch the canoe and prepare our encampment for the night. We were unsuccessful, and after a long walk thought of returning to our camp empty-handed, when a loud whirring sound in the bushes attracted our attention, and two partridges perched upon a tree quite near us. We shot them, and fixing them in our belts, retraced our way towards the coast with lighter hearts. Just as we emerged from the dense forest, however, on one side of an open space, a tall muscular Indian strode from among the bushes and stood before us. He was dressed in the blanket capote, cloth leggins, and scarlet cap usually worn by the Abinikies, and other tribes of the Labrador coast. A red deer-skin shot-pouch and a powder-horn hung round his neck, and at his side were a beautifully ornamented fire-bag and scalping-knife. A common gun lay in the hollow of his left arm, and a pair of ornamented moccasins covered his feet. He was, indeed, a handsome-looking fellow, as he stood scanning us rapidly with his jet-black eyes while we approached him. We accosted him, and informed him (for he understood a little French) whence we came, and our object in visiting his part of the country. He received our advances kindly, accepted a piece of tobacco that we offered him, and told us that his name was Wapwian, and that we were welcome to remain at his village—to which he offered to conduct us—as long as we pleased. After a little hesitation we accepted his invitation to remain a few days; the more so, as by so doing we would have an opportunity of getting some provisions to enable us to continue our journey. In half an hour we reached the brow of a small eminence, whence the curling smoke of the wigwams was visible. The tents were pitched on the shores of a small bay or inlet, guarded from the east wind by a high precipice of rugged rocks, around which hundreds of sea-fowl sailed in graceful flights. Beyond this headland stretched the majestic Gulf of St. Lawrence; while to the left the village was shaded by the spruce-fir, of which most of this part of the forest is composed. There were, in all, about a dozen tents, made of dressed deerskin; at the openings of which might be seen groups of little children playing about on the grass, or running after their mothers as they went to the neighbouring rivulet for water, or launched their canoes to examine the nets in the bay.
“Wapwian paused to gaze an instant on the scene, and then, descending the hill with rapid strides, entered the village, and dispatched a little boy for our companion in the encampment.
“We were ushered into a tent somewhat elevated above the others, and soon were reclining on a soft pile of pine branches, smoking in company with our friend Wapwian, while his pretty little squaw prepared a kettle of fish for supper.
“We spent two happy days in the village, hunting deer with our Indian friend, and assisting the squaws in their fishing operations. On the third morning we remained in the camp to dry the venison, and prepare for our departure; while Wapwian shouldered his gun, and calling to his nephew, a slim, active youth of eighteen, bade him follow with his gun, as he intended to bring back a few ducks for his white brothers.
“The two Indians proceeded for a time along the shore, and then striking off into the forest, threaded their way among the thick bushes in the direction of a chain of small lakes where wild-fowl were numerous.
“For some time they moved rapidly along under the sombre shade of the trees, casting from time to time sharp glances into the surrounding underwood. Suddenly the elder Indian paused and threw forward his gun, as a slight rustling in the bushes struck his ear. The boughs bent and crackled a few yards in advance, and a large black bear crossed the path and entered the underwood on the other side. Wapwian fired at him instantly, and a savage growl told that the shot had taken effect. The gun, however, had been loaded with small shot; and although, when he fired, the bear was only a few yards off, yet the improbability of its having wounded him badly, and the distance they had to go ere they reached the lakes, inclined him to give up the chase. While Wapwian was loading his gun, Miniquan (his nephew) had been examining the bear’s track, and returned, saying that he was sure the animal must be badly wounded, for there was much blood on the track. At first the elder Indian refused to follow it; but seeing that his nephew wished very much to kill the brute, he at last consented. As the trail of the bear was much covered with blood, they found no difficulty in tracking it; and after a short walk they found him extended on his side at the foot of a large tree, apparently lifeless. Wapwian, however, was too experienced a hunter to trust himself incautiously within its reach, so he examined the priming of his gun, and then, advancing slowly to the animal, pushed it with the muzzle. In an instant the bear sprang upon him, regardless of the shot lodged in its breast, and in another moment Wapwian lay stunned and bleeding at the monster’s feet. Miniquan was at first so thunderstruck, as he gazed in horror at the savage animal tearing with bloody jaws the senseless form of his uncle, that he stood rooted to the ground. It was only for a moment—the next, his gun was at his shoulder, and after firing at, but unfortunately, in the excitement of the moment, missing the bear, he attacked it with the butt of his gun, which he soon shivered to pieces on its skull. This drew the animal for a few moments from Wapwian; and Miniquan, in hopes of leading it from the place, ran off in the direction of the village. The bear, however, soon gave up the chase, and returned again to its victim. Miniquan now saw that the only chance of saving his relative was to alarm the village; so, tightening his belt, he set off with the speed of the hunted deer in the direction of the camp. In an incredibly short time he arrived, and soon returned with the trappers and myself. Alas! alas!” said the guide with a deep sigh, “it was too late. Upon arriving at the spot, we found the bear quite dead, and the noble, generous Wapwian extended by its side, torn and lacerated in such a manner that we could scarcely recognise him. He still breathed a little, however, and appeared to know me, as I bent over him and tried to close his gaping wounds. We constructed a rude couch of branches, and conveyed him slowly to the village. No word of complaint or cry of sorrow escaped from his wife as we laid his bleeding form in her tent. She seemed to have lost the power of speech, as she sat, hour after hour, gazing in unutterable despair on the mangled form of her husband. Poor Wapwian lingered for a week in a state of unconsciousness. His skull had been fractured, and he lay almost in a state of insensibility, and never spoke, save when, in a fit of delirium, his fancy wandered back to bygone days, when he ranged the forest with a tiny bow in chase of little birds and squirrels, strode in the vigour of early manhood over frozen plains of snow, or dashed down foaming currents and mighty rivers in his light canoe. Then a shade would cross his brow as he thought, perhaps, of his recent struggle with the bear, and he would again relapse into silence.
“He recovered slightly before his death; and once he smiled, as if he recognised his wife, but he never spoke to any one. We scarcely know when his spirit fled, so calm and peaceful was his end.
“His body now reposes beneath the spreading branches of a lordly pine, near the scenes of his childhood, where he had spent his youth, and where he met his untimely end.”
The guide paused, and looked round upon his auditors. Alas! for the sympathy of man—the half of them had gone to sleep; and Baptiste, for whose benefit the story had been related, lay, or rather sprawled, upon the turf behind the fire, his shaggy head resting on the decayed stump of an old tree, and his empty pipe hanging gracefully from his half-open mouth. A slight “humph” escaped the worthy guide as he shook the ashes from his pipe, and rolling his blanket round him, laid his head upon the ground.
Early the following morning we raised the camp and continued our journey. The scenery had now become more wild and picturesque. Large pines became numerous; and the rocky fissures, through which the river rushed in a black unbroken mass, cast a gloomy shadow upon us as we struggled to ascend. Sometimes we managed to get up these rapids with the paddles; and when the current was too powerful, with long poles, which the men fixed in the ground, and thus pushed slowly up; but when both of these failed, we resorted to the tracking line, upon which occasions four of the men went on shore and dragged us up, leaving four in the canoe to paddle and steer it. When the current was too strong for this, they used to carry parts of the cargo to the smooth water further up, and drag the canoe up light, or, taking it on their shoulders, carry it overland. We made nine or ten of these portages in two days. In the afternoon we came in view of a Roman Catholic mission station, snugly situated at the bottom of a small bay or creek; but as it was a little out of our way, and from its quiet appearance seemed deserted, we did not stop.
In the afternoon of the following day, the 9th of September, we arrived at the Company’s post, called Rat Portage House, where we were hospitably entertained for a few hours by Mr McKenzie, the gentleman in charge. On the portage, over which we had to carry our canoe and baggage, a large party of Indians of both sexes and all ages were collected to witness our departure; and Mr McKenzie advised us to keep a sharp lookout, as they were much addicted to appropriating the property of others to their own private use, provided they could find an opportunity of doing so unobserved; so, while our men were running backwards and forwards, carrying the things over the rocks, Mr Bain and his lady remained at one end to guard them, and I at the other. Everything, however, was got safely across; the Indians merely stood looking on, apparently much amused with our proceedings, and nothing seemed further from their thoughts than stealing. Just as we paddled from the bank, one of our men threw them a handful of tobacco, for which there was a great scramble, and their noisy voices died away in the distance as we rounded an abrupt point of rocks, and floated out upon the glorious expanse of Lac du Bois, or, as it is more frequently called, the Lake of the Woods.
There is nothing, I think, better calculated to awaken the more solemn feelings of our nature (unless, indeed, it be the thrilling tones of sacred music) than these noble lakes, studded with innumerable islets, suddenly bursting on the traveller’s view as he emerges from the sombre forest-rivers of the American wilderness. The clear unruffled water, stretching out to the horizon—here, embracing the heavy and luxuriant foliage of a hundred wooded isles, or reflecting the wood-clad mountains on its margin, clothed in all the variegated hues of autumn; and there, glittering with dazzling brilliancy in the bright rays of the evening sun, or rippling among the reeds and rushes of some shallow bay, where hundreds of wild-fowl chatter, as they feed, with varied cry, rendering more apparent, rather than disturbing, the solemn stillness of the scene: all tends to “raise the soul from nature up to nature’s God,” and reminds one of the beautiful passage of Scripture, “O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.” At the same time, when one considers how very few of the human race cast even a passing glance on the beauties of nature around, one cannot but be impressed with the truth of the lines—
“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”
At night we encamped at the furthest extremity of the lake, on a very exposed spot, whence we looked out upon the starlit scene, while our supper was spread before us in the warm light of the fire, which blazed and crackled as the men heaped log after log upon it, sending up clouds of bright sparks into the sky.
Next morning we commenced the ascent of Lac la Pluie River. This is decidedly the most beautiful river we had yet traversed—not only on account of the luxuriant foliage of every hue with which its noble banks are covered, but chiefly from the resemblance it bears in many places to the scenery of England, recalling to mind the grassy lawns and verdant banks of Britain’s streams, and transporting the beholder from the wild scenes of the western world to his native home. The trees along its banks were larger and more varied than any we had hitherto seen—ash, poplar, cedar, red and white pines, oak, and birch being abundant, whilst flowers of gaudy hues enhanced the beauty of the scene. Towards noon our guide kept a sharp lookout for a convenient spot whereon to dine; and ere long a flat shelving rock, partly shaded by trees and partly exposed to the blaze of the sun, presented itself to view. The canoe was soon alongside of it, and kept floating about half a foot from the edge by means of two branches, the two ends of which were fastened to the bow and stern of the canoe, and the other two to the ground by means of huge stones. It is necessary to be thus careful with canoes, as the gum or pitch with which the seams are plastered breaks off in lumps, particularly in cold weather, and makes the craft leaky. A snow-white napkin was spread on the flattest part of the rock, and so arranged that, as we reclined around it, on cloaks and blankets, our bodies down to the knees were shaded by the luxuriant foliage behind us, while our feet were basking in the solar rays! Upon the napkin were presently placed, by our active waiter Gibault, three pewter plates, a decanter of port wine, and a large ham, together with a turret of salt butter, and a loaf of bread, to the demolition of which viands we devoted ourselves with great earnestness. At a short distance the men circled round a huge lump of boiled pork, each with a large slice of bread in one hand and a knife in the other, with which he porked his bread in the same way that civilised people butter theirs! Half an hour concluded our mid-day meal; and then, casting off the branches from the canoe, we were out of sight of our temporary dining-room in five minutes.
On the evening of the following day we arrived at the Company’s post, Fort Frances. The fort is rather an old building, situated at the bottom of a small bay or curve in the river, near the foot of a waterfall, whose thundering roar forms a ceaseless music to the inhabitants. We found the post in charge of a chief trader, who had no other society than that of three or four labouring men; so, as may be supposed, he was delighted to see us. Our men carried the canoe, etcetera, over the portage to avoid the waterfall, and as it was then too late to proceed further that night, we accepted his pressing invitation to pass the night at the fort. There was only one spare bed in the house, but this was a matter of little moment to us after the variety of beds we had had since starting; so, spreading a buffalo robe on the floor for a mattress, I rolled myself in my blanket and tried to sleep. At first I could not manage it, owing to the unearthly stillness of a room, after being so long accustomed to the open air and the noise of rivers and cataracts, but at last succeeded, and slept soundly till morning.
Dame Fortune does not always persecute her friends; and although she had retarded us hitherto a good deal with contrary winds and rains, she kindly assisted us when we commenced crossing Lac la Pluie next morning, by raising a stiff, fair breeze. Now, be it known that a canoe, from having no keel, and a round bottom, cannot venture to hoist a sail unless the wind is directly astern—the least bit to one side would be sure to capsize it; so that our getting the wind precisely in the proper direction at the commencement was a great piece of good fortune, inasmuch as it enabled us to cross the lake in six hours, instead of (as is generally the case) taking one, two, or three days.
In the evening we arrived, in high spirits, at a portage, on which we encamped.
Our progress now became a little more interrupted by portages and small lakes, or rather ponds, through which we sometimes passed with difficulty, owing to the shallowness of the water in many places. Soon after this we came to the Mecan River, which we prepared to ascend. In making a portage, we suddenly discovered a little Indian boy, dressed in the extreme of the Indian summer fashion—in other words, he was in a state of perfect nakedness, with the exception of a breech-cloth; and upon casting our eyes across the river we beheld his worthy father, in a similar costume, busily employed in catching fish with a hand-net. He was really a wild, picturesque-looking fellow, notwithstanding the scantiness of his dress; and I was much interested in his proceedings. When I first saw him, he was standing upon a rock close to the edge of a foaming rapid, into the eddies of which he gazed intently, with the net raised in the air, and his muscular frame motionless, as if petrified while in the act of striking. Suddenly the net swung through the air, and his body quivered as he strained every sinew to force it quickly through the water: in a moment it came out with a beautiful white-fish, upwards of a foot long, glittering like silver as it struggled in the meshes. In the space of half an hour he had caught half a dozen in this manner, and we bought three or four of the finest for a few plugs of tobacco. His wigwam and family were close at hand; so, while our men crossed the portage, I ran up to see them.
The tent, which was made of sheets of birch bark sewed together, was pitched beneath the branches of a gigantic pine, upon the lower limbs of which hung a pair of worn-out snow-shoes, a very dirty blanket, and a short bow, with a quiver of arrows near it. At the foot of it, upon the ground, were scattered a few tin pots, several pairs of old moccasins, and a gun; while against it leaned an Indian cradle, in which a small, very brown baby, with jet-black eyes and hair, stood bolt upright, basking in the sun’s rays, and bearing a comical resemblance to an Egyptian mummy. At the door of the tent a child of riper years amused itself by rolling about among the chips of wood, useless bits of deer-skin, and filth always strewn around a wigwam. On the right hand lay a pile of firewood, with an axe beside it, near which crouched a half-starved, wretched-looking nondescript dog, who commenced barking vociferously the moment he cast eyes upon me. Such was the outside. The interior, filled with smoke from the fire and Indians’ pipes, was, if possible, even dirtier. Amid a large pile of rabbit-skins reclined an old woman, busily plucking the feathers from a fine duck, which she carefully preserved (the feathers, not the duck) in a bag, for the purpose of trading them with the Company at a future period. Her dress was a coat of rabbit-skins, so strangely shaped that no one could possibly tell how she ever got it off or on. This, however, was doubtless a matter of little consequence to her, as Indians seldom take the trouble of changing their clothes, or even of undressing at all. The coat was fearfully dirty, and hung upon her in a way that led me to suppose she had worn it for six months, and that it would fall off her in a few days. A pair of faded blue cloth leggins completed her costume—her dirty shoulders, arms, and feet being quite destitute of covering; while her long black hair fell in tangled masses upon her neck, and it was evidently a long time since a comb had passed through it. On the other side sat a younger woman similarly attired, employed in mending a hand-net; and on a very much worn buffalo robe sat a young man (probably the brother of the one we had seen fishing), wrapped in a blanket, smoking his pipe in silence. A few dirty little half-naked boys lay sprawling among several packages of furs tied up in birch bark, and disputed with two or three ill-looking dogs the most commodious place whereon to lie. The fire in the middle of the tent sent up a cloud of smoke, which escaped through an aperture at the top; and from a cross-bar depended a few slices of deer-meat, undergoing the process of smoking.
I had merely time to note all this, and say, “What cheer!” to the Indians, who returned the compliment with a grunt, when the loud voice of our guide ringing through the glades of the forest informed me that the canoe was ready to proceed.
The country through which we now passed was very interesting, on account of the variety of the scenes and places through which we wound our way. At times we were paddling with difficulty against the strong current of a narrow river, which, on our turning a point of land, suddenly became a large lake; and then, after crossing this, we arrived at a portage. After passing over it, there came a series of small ponds and little creeks, through which we pushed our way with difficulty; and then arrived at another lake, and more little rivers, with numerous portages. Sometimes ludicrous accidents happened to us—bad enough at the time, but subjects of mirth afterwards.
One cold, frosty morning (for the weather had now become cold, from the elevation of the country through which we were passing), while the canoe was going quietly over a small reedy lake or ford, I was awakened out of a nap, and told that the canoe was aground, and I must get out and walk a little way to lighten her. Hastily pulling up my trousers for I always travelled barefoot—I sprang over the side into the water, and the canoe left me. Now, all this happened so quickly that I was scarcely awake; but the bitterly cold water, which nearly reached my knees, cleared up my faculties most effectually, and I then found that I was fifty yards from the shore, with an unknown depth of water around me, the canoe out of sight ahead of me, and Mr Bain—who had been turned out while half asleep also—standing with a rueful expression of countenance beside me. After feeling our way cautiously—for the bottom was soft and muddy—we reached the shore; and then, thinking that all was right, proceeded to walk round to join the canoe. Alas! we found the bushes so thick that they were very nearly impenetrable; and, worse than all, that they, as well as the ground, were covered with thorns, which scratched and lacerated our feet most fearfully at every step. There was nothing for it, however, but to persevere; and after a painful walk of a quarter of a mile we overtook the canoe, vowing never to leap before we looked upon any other occasion whatsoever.
In this way we proceeded—literally over hill and dale—in our canoe; and in the course of a few days ascended Mecan River, and traversed Cross Lake, Malign River, Sturgeon Lake, Lac du Mort, Mille Lac, besides a great number of smaller sheets of water without names, and many portages of various lengths and descriptions, till the evening of the 19th, when we ascended the beautiful little river called the Savan, and arrived at the Savan Portage.
Many years ago, in the time of the North-West Company, the echoes among these wild solitudes were far oftener and more loudly awakened than they are now. The reason of it was this. The North-West Company, having their head quarters at Montreal, and being composed chiefly of Canadian adventurers, imported their whole supplies into the country and exported all their furs out of it in north canoes, by the same route over which we now travelled. As they carried on business on a large scale, it may be supposed that the traffic was correspondingly great. No less than ten brigades, each numbering twenty canoes, used to pass through these scenes during the summer months. No one who has not experienced it can form an adequate idea of the thrilling effect the passing of these brigades must have had upon a stranger. I have seen four canoes sweep round a promontory suddenly, and burst upon my view, while at the same moment the wild romantic song of the voyageurs, as they plied their brisk paddles, struck upon my ear; and I have felt thrilling enthusiasm on witnessing such a scene. What, then, must have been the feelings of those who had spent a long, dreary winter in the wild North-West, far removed from the bustle and excitement of the civilised world, when thirty or forty of these picturesque canoes burst unexpectedly upon them, half shrouded in the spray that flew from the bright vermilion paddles; while the men, who had overcome difficulties and dangers innumerable during a long voyage through the wilderness, urged their light craft over the troubled water with the speed of the reindeer, and, with hearts joyful at the happy termination of their trials and privations, sang, with all the force of three hundred manly voices, one of their lively airs, which, rising and falling faintly in the distance as it was borne, first lightly on the breeze, and then more steadily as they approached, swelled out in the rich tones of many a mellow voice, and burst at last into a long enthusiastic shout of joy!
Alas! the forests no longer echo to such sounds. The passage of three or four canoes once or twice a year is all that breaks the stillness of the scene; and nought, save narrow pathways over the portages, and rough wooden crosses over the graves of the travellers who perished by the way, remains to mark that such things were. Of these marks, the Savan Portage, at which we had arrived, was one of the most striking. A long succession of boiling rapids and waterfalls having in days of yore obstructed the passage of the fur-traders, they had landed at the top of them, and cut a pathway through the woods, which happened at this place to be exceedingly swampy: hence the name Savan (or swampy) Portage. To render the road more passable, they had cut down trees, which they placed side by side along its whole extent—which was about three miles—and over this wooden platform carried their canoes and cargoes with perfect ease. After the coalition of the two companies, and the consequent carriage of the furs to England by Hudson Bay—instead of to Canada, by the lakes and rivers of the interior—these roads were neglected, and got out of repair; and consequently we found the logs over the portage decayed and trees fallen across them, so that our men, instead of running quickly over them, were constantly breaking through the rotten wood, sinking up to the knees in mud, and scrambling over trees and branches. We got over at last, however—in about two hours; and after proceeding a little further, arrived at and encamped upon the Prairie Portage, by the side of a voyageur’s grave, which was marked as usual with a wooden cross, on which some friendly hand had cut a rude inscription. Time had now rendered it quite illegible. This is the height of land dividing the waters which flow northward into Hudson Bay from those which flow in a southerly direction, through the great lakes, into the Atlantic Ocean.
A few pages from my journal here may serve to give a better idea of the characteristics of our voyage than could be conveyed in narrative:—
Saturday, 20th September.—We crossed the Prairie Portage this morning—a distance of between three and four miles—and breakfasted at the upper end of it. Amused myself by sketching the view from a neighbouring hill. After crossing two more portages and a variety of small lakes, we launched our canoe on the bosom of the river Du Chien, and began, for the first time since the commencement of our journey, to descend, having passed over the height of land. We saw several grey grouse here, and in the evening one of our men caught one in a curious manner. They were extremely tame, and allowed us to approach them very closely, so Baptiste determined to catch one for supper. Cutting a long branch from a neighbouring tree, he tied a running noose on one end of it, and going quietly up to the bird, put the noose gently over its head, and pulled it off the tree. This is a common practice among the Indians, particularly when they have run short of gunpowder.
Sunday, 21st.—Crossed Lac du Chien, and made the portage of the same name, from the top of which we had a most beautiful view of the whole country for miles round. Having crossed this portage, we proceeded down the Kamenistaquoia River, on the banks of which, after making another portage, we pitched our tents.
Monday, 22nd.—Rain obliged us to put ashore this morning. Nothing can be more wretched than travelling in rainy weather. The men, poor fellows, do not make the least attempt to keep themselves dry; but the passengers endeavour, by means of oiled cloths, to keep out the wet; and under this they broil and suffocate, till at last they are obliged to throw off the covering. Even were this not the case, we should still be wretched, as the rain always finds its way in somewhere or other; and I have been often awakened from a nap by the cold trickling of moisture down my back, and have discovered upon moving that I was lying in a pool of water. Ashore we are generally a little more comfortable, but not much. After dinner we again started, and advanced on our journey till sunset.
Tuesday, 23rd.—To-day we advanced very slowly, owing to the shallowness of the water, and crossed a number of portages. During the day we ran several rapids. This is very exciting work. Upon nearing the head of a large rapid, the men strain every muscle to urge the canoe forward more quickly than the water, so that it may steer better. The bowsman and steersman stand erect, guiding the frail bark through the more unbroken places in the fierce current, which hisses and foams around, as if eager to swallow us up. Now we rush with lightning force towards a rock, against which the water dashes in fury; and to an uninitiated traveller we appear to be on the point of destruction. But one vigorous stroke from the bowsman and steersman (for they always act in concert) sends the light craft at a sharp angle from the impending danger; and away we plunge again over the surging waters—sometimes floating for an instant in a small eddy, and hovering, as it were, to choose our path; and then plunging swiftly forward again through the windings of the stream, till, having passed the whole in safety, we float in the smooth water below.
Accidents, as may be supposed, often happen; and to-day we found that there is danger as well as pleasure in running the rapids. We had got over a great part of the day in safety, and were in the act of running the first part of the Rose Rapid, when our canoe struck upon a rock, and wheeling round with its broadside to the stream, began to fill quickly. I could hear the timbers cracking beneath me under the immense pressure. Another minute, and we should have been gone; but our men, who were active fellows, and well accustomed to such dangers, sprang simultaneously over the side of the canoe, which, being thus lightened, passed over the rock, and rushed down the remainder of the rapid stern foremost ere the men could scramble in and resume their paddles. When rapids were very dangerous, most of the cargo was generally disembarked; and while one half of the crew carried it round to the still water below, the other half ran down light.
Crossed two small portages and the Mountain Portage in the afternoon; on the latter of which I went to see a waterfall, which I was told was in its vicinity. I had great difficulty in finding it at first, but its thundering roar soon guided me to a spot from which it was visible. Truly, a grander waterfall I never saw. The whole river, which was pretty broad, plunged in one broad white sheet over a precipice, higher by a few feet than the famous Falls of Niagara; and the spray from the foot sprang high into the air, bedewing the wild, precipitous crags with which the fall is encompassed, and the gloomy pines that hang about the clefts and fissures of the rocks. Fur-traders have given it the name of the Mountain Fall, from a peculiar mountain in its vicinity; but the natives call it the Kackabecka Falls. After making a sketch of it, and getting myself thoroughly wet in so doing, I returned to the canoe.
In the evening we encamped within nine miles of Fort William, having lost one of our men, who went ashore to lighten the canoe while we ran a rapid. After a good deal of trouble we found him again, but too late to admit of our proceeding to the fort that night.
Wednesday, 24th.—Early this morning we left the encampment, and after two hours’ paddling Fort William burst upon our gaze, mirrored in the limpid waters of Lake Superior—that immense fresh-water sea, whose rocky shores and rolling billows vie with the ocean itself in grandeur and magnificence.
Fort William was once one of the chief posts in the Indian country, and, when it belonged to the North-West Company, contained a great number of men. Now, however, much of its glory has departed. Many of the buildings have been pulled down, and those that remain are very rickety-looking affairs. It is still, however, a very important fishing station, and many hundreds of beautiful white-fish, with which Lake Superior swarms, are salted there annually for the Canada markets. These white-fish are indeed excellent; and it is difficult to say whether they or the immense trout, which are also caught in abundance, have the most delicate flavour. These trout, as well as white-fish, are caught in nets; and the former sometimes measure three feet long, and are proportionately broad. The one we had to breakfast on the morning of our arrival must have been very nearly this size.
The fur-trade of the post is not very good, but the furs traded are similar to those obtained in other parts of the country.
A number of can?tes de ma?tre, or very large canoes, are always kept in store here, for the use of the Company’s travellers. These canoes are of the largest size, exceeding the north canoe in length by several feet, besides being much broader and deeper. They are used solely for the purpose of travelling on Lake Superior, being much too large and cumbersome for travelling with through the interior. They are carried by four men instead of two, like the north canoe; and, besides being capable of carrying twice as much cargo, are paddled by fourteen or sixteen men. Travellers from Canada to the interior generally change their can?tes de ma?tre for north canoes at Fort William, before entering upon the intricate navigation through which we had already passed; while those going from the interior to Canada change the small for the large canoe. As we had few men, however, and the weather appeared settled, we determined to risk coasting round the northern shore of the lake in our north canoe.
The scenery around the fort is very pretty. In its immediate vicinity the land is flat, covered with small trees and willows, which are agreeably suggestive of partridges and other game; but in the distance rise goodly-sized mountains; and on the left hand the noble expanse of the Lake Superior, with rocky islands on its mighty bosom and abrupt hills on its shores, stretches out to the horizon. The fort is built at the mouth of the Kamenistaquoia River, and from its palisades a beautiful view of the surrounding country can be obtained.
As the men wanted rest and our canoe a little repair, we determined to remain all day at Fort William; so some of the men employed themselves re-gumming the canoe, while others spread out our blankets and tents to dry. This last was very necessary as on the journey we have little time to spare from eating and sleeping while on shore; and many a time have I, in consequence, slept in a wet blanket.
The fair lady of the gentleman in charge of the fort was the only lady at the place, and indeed the only one within a circuit of six hundred miles—which space, being the primeval forest, was inhabited only by wild beasts and a few Indians. She was, consequently, very much delighted to meet with Mrs Bain, who, having for so many days seen no one but rough voyageurs, was equally delighted to meet her. While they went off to make the most of each other, Mr Bain and I sauntered about in the vicinity of the fort, admiring the beauty of the scenery, and paid numerous visits to a superb dairy in the fort, which overflowed with milk and cream. I rather think that we admired the dairy more than the scenery. There were a number of cows at the post, a few of which we encountered in our walk, and also a good many pigs and sheep. In the evening we returned, and at tea were introduced to a postmaster, who had been absent when we arrived. This postmaster turned out to be a first-rate player of Scotch reels on the violin. He was self-taught, and truly the sweetness and precision with which he played every note and trill of the rapid reel and strathspey might have made Neil Gow himself envious. So beautiful and inspiriting were they, that Mr Bain and our host, who were both genuine Highlanders, jumped simultaneously from their seats, in an ecstasy of enthusiasm, and danced to the lively music till the very walls shook; much to the amusement of the two ladies, who, having been both born in Canada, could not so well appreciate the music. Indeed, the musician himself looked a little astonished, being quite ignorant of the endearing recollections and associations recalled to the memory of the two Highlanders by the rapid notes of his violin. They were not, however, to be contented with one reel; so, after fruitlessly attempting to make the ladies join us, we sent over to the men’s houses for the old Canadian wife of Pierre Lattinville and her two blooming daughters. They soon came, and after much coyness, blushing, and hesitation, at last stood up, and under the inspiring influence of the violin we:—
“Danced, till we were like to fa’,
The reel o’ Tullochgorum!”
And did not cease till the lateness of the hour and the exhaustion of our musician compelled us to give in.
On the following morning we bade adieu to the good people at Fort William, and began our journey along the northern shore of Lake Superior, which is upwards of three hundred miles in diameter. Fortune, however, is proverbially fickle, and she did not belie her character on this particular day. The weather, when we started, was calm and clear, which pleased us much, as we had to make what is called a traverse—that is, to cross from one point of land to another, instead of coasting round a very deep bay. The traverse which we set out to make on leaving Fort William was fourteen miles broad, which made it of some consequence our having a calm day to cross it in our little egg-shell of a canoe. Away we went, then, over the clear lake, singing “Rose Blanche” vociferously. We had already gone a few miles of the distance, when a dark cloud rose on the seaward horizon. Presently the water darkened under the influence of a stiff breeze, and in less than half an hour the waves were rolling and boiling around us like those of the Atlantic. Ahead of us lay a small island, about a mile distant; and towards this the canoe was steered, while the men urged it forward as quickly as the roughness of the sea would allow. Still the wind increased, and the island was not yet gained. Some of the waves had broken over the edge of the canoe, and she was getting filled with water; but a kind Providence permitted us to reach the island in safety, though not in comfort, as most of the men were much wet, and many of them a good deal frightened.
On landing, we pitched our tents, made a fire, and proceeded to dry ourselves, and in less than an hour were as comfortable as possible. The island on which we had encamped was a small rocky one, covered with short heathery-looking shrubs, among which we found thousands of blaeberries. On walking round to the other side of it, I discovered an Indian encamped with his family. He supplied us with a fine white-fish, for which our men gave him a little tobacco and a bit of the fresh mutton which we had brought with us from Fort William.
Three days did we remain on this island, while the wind and waves continued unceasingly to howl and lash around it, as if they wished, in their disappointment, to beat it down and swallow us up, island and all; but towards the close of the third day the gale moderated, and we ventured again to attempt the traverse. This time we succeeded, and in two hours passed Thunder Point, on the other side of which we encamped.
The next day we could only travel till breakfast-time, as the wind again increased so much as to oblige us to put ashore. We comforted ourselves, however, with the prospect of a good mutton-chop.
The fire was soon made, the kettle on, and everything in preparation, when the dreadful discovery was made that the whole of the fresh mutton had been forgotten! Words cannot paint our consternation at this discovery. Poor Mrs Bain sat in mute despair, thinking of the misery of being reduced again to salt pork; while her husband, who had hitherto stood aghast, jumped suddenly forward, and seizing a bag of fine potatoes that had been given to the men, threw it, in a transport of rage, into the lake, vowing that as we were, by their negligence, to be deprived of our mutton, they certainly should also be sufferers with us.
It was very laughable to behold the rueful countenances of the men as their beautiful, large white potatoes sank to the bottom of the clear lake, and shone brightly there, as if to tantalise them, while the rippling water caused them to quiver so much that the lake seemed to rest on a pavement of huge potatoes! None dared, however, attempt to recover one; but after a while, when Mr Bain’s back was turned, a man crept cautiously down to the water’s edge, and gathered as many as were within reach—always, however, keeping an eye on his master, and stooping in an attitude that would permit of his bolting up on the slightest indication of a wrathful movement.
It would be tedious, as well as unnecessary, to recount here all the minutiae of our voyage across Lake Superior; I shall merely touch on a few of the more particular incidents.
On the 1st of October we arrived at the Pic House (see note 2), where we spent the night; and, after a rough voyage, reached Michipicoton on the 4th. Our voyage along Lake Superior was very stormy and harassing, reminding us often of Lake Winnipeg. Sometimes we were paddling along over the smooth water, and at other times lying-by, while the lake was lashed into a mass of foam and billows by a strong gale. So much detention, and the lateness of the season, rendered it necessary to take advantage of every lull and calm hour that occurred, so that we travelled a good deal during the night. This sort of travelling was very romantic.
On one occasion, after having been ashore two days, the wind moderated in the afternoon, and we determined to proceed, if possible. The sun set gloriously, giving promise of fine weather. The sky was clear and cloudless, and the lake calm. For an hour or so the men sang as they paddled, but as the shades of evening fell they ceased; and as it was getting rather chilly, I wrapped myself in my green blanket (which served me for a boat-cloak as well as a bed), and soon fell fast asleep.
How long I slept I know not; but when I awoke, the regular, rapid hiss of the paddles struck upon my ear, and upon throwing off the blanket the first thing that met my eye was the dark sky, spangled with the most gorgeous and brilliant stars I ever beheld. The whole scene, indeed, was one of the most magnificent and awful that can be imagined. On our left hand rose tremendous precipices and cliffs, around the bottom and among the caverns of which the black waters of the lake curled quietly (for a most death-like, unearthly calm prevailed), sending forth a faint hollow murmur, which ended, at long intervals, in a low melancholy cadence. Before and behind us abrupt craggy islands rose from the water, assuming every imaginable and unimaginable shape in the uncertain light; while on the right the eye ranged over the inky lake till it was lost in thick darkness. A thin, transparent night-fog added to the mystical appearance of the scene, upon which I looked with mingled feelings of wonder and awe. The only distinct sound that could be heard was the measured sound of the paddles, which the men plied in silence, as if unwilling to break the stillness of the night. Suddenly the guide uttered in a hoarse whisper, “A terre!” startling the sleepy men, and rendering the succeeding silence still more impressive.
The canoe glided noiselessly through a maze of narrow passages among the tall cliffs, and grounded on a stony beach. Everything was then carried up, and the tents pitched in the dark, as no wood could be conveniently found for the purpose of making a fire; and without taking any supper, or even breaking the solemn silence of the night, we spread our beds as we best could upon the round stones (some of which were larger than a man’s fist), and sank into repose. About a couple of hours afterwards we were roused by the anxious guide, and told to embark again. In this way we travelled at night or by day, as the weather permitted—and even, upon one or two occasions, both night and day—till the 12th of October, when we arrived at the Sault de Ste. Marie, which is situated at the termination of Lake Superior, just as our provisions were exhausted.
We had thus taken eighteen days to coast the lake. This was very slow going indeed, the usual time for coasting the lake in a north canoe being from eight to ten days.
The Sault de Ste. Marie is a large rapid, which carries the waters of Lake Superior into Lake Huron. It separates the British from the American possessions, and is fortified on the American side by a large wooden fort, in which a body of soldiers are constantly resident. There is also a pretty large village of Americans, which is rapidly increasing. The British side is not fortified; and, indeed, there are no houses of any kind except the few belonging to the Hudson Bay Company. This may be considered the extreme outskirts of civilisation, being the first place where I had seen any number of people collected together who were unconnected with the Hudson Bay Company.
I was not destined, however, to enjoy the sight of new faces long, for next morning we started to coast round the northern and uninhabited shores of Lake Huron, and so down the Ottawa to Montreal. Mr and Mrs Bain left me here, and proceeded by the route of the Lakes.
During the next few days we travelled through a number of rivers and lakes of various sizes; among the latter were Lakes Huron and Nipisingue. In crossing the latter, I observed a point on which were erected fourteen rough wooden crosses. Such an unusual sight excited my curiosity, and upon inquiring I found that they were planted there to mark the place where a canoe, containing fourteen men, had been upset in a gale, and every soul lost. The lake was clear and smooth when we passed the melancholy spot, and many a rolling year has defaced and cast down the crosses since the unfortunate men whose sad fate they commemorate perished in the storm.
While searching about the shore one night for wood to make a fire, one of our men found a large basket, made of bark, and filled with fine bears’-grease, which had been hid by some Indians. This was considered a great windfall; and ere two days were passed the whole of it was eaten by the men, who buttered their flour cakes with it profusely.
Not long after this we passed a large waterfall, where a friend of mine was once very nearly lost. A projecting point obliges the traveller to run his canoe rather near the head of the fall, for the purpose of landing to make the portage. From long habit the guides had been accustomed to this, and always effected the doubling of the point in safety. Upon this occasion, however, either from carelessness or accident, the canoe got into the strong current, and almost in an instant was swept down towards the fall. To turn the head of the canoe up the stream, and paddle for their lives, was the work of a moment; but before they got it fairly round they were on the very brink of the cataract, which, had they gone over it, would have dashed them to a thousand atoms. They paddled with the strength of desperation, but so strong was the current that they remained almost stationary. At last they began slowly to ascend—an inch at a time—and finally reached the bank in safety.
On Sunday the 19th of October we commenced descending the magnificent river Ottawa, and began to feel that we were at last approaching the civilised nations of the earth. During the day we passed several small log-huts, or shanties, which are the temporary dwelling-places of men who penetrate thus far into the forest for the purpose of cutting timber. A canoe full of these adventurous pioneers also passed us; and in the evening we reached Fort Mattawan, one of the Company’s stations. At night we encamped along with a party who were taking provisions to the wood-cutters.
The scenery on the Ottawa is beautiful, and as we descended the stream it was rendered more picturesque and interesting by the appearance, occasionally, of that, to us, unusual sight, a farmhouse. They were too few and far between, however, to permit of our taking advantage of the inhabitants’ hospitality, and for the next four days we continued to make our encampments in the woods as heretofore. At one of these frontier farms our worthy guide discovered, to his unutterable astonishment and delight, an old friend and fellow-voyageur, to greet whom he put ashore. The meeting was strange: instead of shaking hands warmly, as I had expected, they stood for a moment gazing in astonishment, and then, with perfect solemnity, kissed each other—not gently on the cheek, but with a good hearty smack on their sunburnt lips. After conversing for a little, they parted with another kiss.
On the fourth day after this event we came in sight of the village of Aylmer, which lay calmly on the sloping banks of the river, its church spire glittering in the sun, and its white houses reflected in the stream.
It is difficult to express the feelings of delight with which I gazed upon this little village, after my long banishment from the civilised world. It was like recovering from a trance of four long dreamy years; and I wandered about the streets, gazing in joy and admiration upon everything and everybody, but especially upon the ladies, who appeared quite a strange race of beings to me—and all of them looked so beautiful in my eyes (long accustomed to Indian dames), that I fell in love with every one individually that passed me in the village. In this happy mood I sauntered about, utterly oblivious of the fact that my men had been left in a public-house, and would infallibly, if not prevented, get dead drunk. I was soon awakened to this startling probability by the guide, who walked up the road in a very solemn I’m-not-at-all-drunk sort of a manner, peering about on every side, evidently in search of me. Having found me, he burst into an expression of unbounded joy; and then, recollecting that this was inconsistent with his assumed character of sobriety, became awfully grave, and told me that we must start soon, as the men were all getting tipsy.
The following day we arrived at Bytown.
This town is picturesquely situated on the brow of a stupendous cliff, which descends precipitously into the Ottawa. Just above the town a handsome bridge stretches across the river, near which the Kettle Fall thunders over a high cliff. We only stayed a few minutes here, and then proceeded on our way.
During the day we passed the locks of the Rideau Canal, which rise, to the number of eight or ten, one over another like steps; and immediately below them appeared the Curtain Falls. These falls are not very picturesque, but their great height and curtain-like smoothness render them an interesting object. After this, villages and detached houses became numerous all the way down the river; and late in the evening of the 24th we arrived at a station belonging to the Hudson Bay Company, on the Lake of the Two Mountains, where we passed the remainder of the night.
Here, for the first time since leaving home, I was ushered into a civilised drawing-room; and when I found myself seated on a cushioned chair, with my moccasined feet pressing a soft carpet, and several real, bona fide ladies (the wife and daughters of my entertainer) sitting before me, and asking hundreds of questions about my long voyage, the strange species of unbelief in the possibility of again seeing the civilised world, which had beset me for the last three years, began slowly to give way, and at last entirely vanished when my host showed me into a handsomely furnished bedroom, and left me for the night.
The first thing that struck me on entering the bedroom was the appearance of one of our voyageurs, dressed in a soiled blue capote, dilapidated corduroy trousers, and moccasins; while his deeply sunburnt face, under a mass of long straggling hair, stared at me in astonishment! It will doubtless be supposed that I was much horrified at this apparition. I was, indeed, much surprised; but, seeing that it was my own image reflected in a full-length looking-glass, I cannot say that I felt extremely horrified. This was the first time that I had seen myself—if I may so speak—since leaving Norway House; and, truly, I had no reason to feel proud of my appearance.
The following morning, at four o’clock, we left the Lake of the Two Mountains; and in the afternoon of the 25th October, 1845, arrived at Lachine, where, for the time, my travels came to a close—having been journeying in the wilderness for sixty-six days.
Soon after my arrival winter set in, and I became acquainted with a few of the inhabitants of Lachine. The moment the snow fell, wheeled carriages were superseded by carioles and sleighs of all descriptions. These beautiful vehicles are mounted on runners, or large skates, and slide very smoothly and easily over the snow, except when the road is bad; and then, owing to the want of springs, sleighs become very rough carriages indeed. They are usually drawn by one horse, the harness and trappings of which are profusely covered with small round bells. These bells are very necessary appendages, as little noise is made by the approach of a sleigh over the soft snow, and they serve to warn travellers in the dark. The cheerful tinkling music thus occasioned on the Canadian roads is very pleasing. Sleighs vary a good deal in structure and costliness of decoration; and one often meets a rough, cheerful Canadian habitant sitting in his small box of a sledge (painted sometimes red and sometimes green), lashing away at his shaggy pony in a fruitless attempt to keep up with the large graceful sleigh of a wealthy inhabitant of Montreal, who, wrapped up in furs, drives tandem, with two strong horses, and loudly tinkling bells.
Reader, I had very nearly come to the resolution of giving you a long account of Canada and the Canadians, but I dare not venture on it. I feel that it would be encroaching upon the ground of civilised authors; and as I do not belong to this class, but profess to write of savage life, and nothing but savage life, I hope you will extend to me your kind forgiveness if I conclude this chapter rather abruptly.
It is a true saying that the cup of happiness is often dashed from the lips that are about to taste it. I have sometimes proved this to be the case. The cup of happiness, on the present occasion, was the enjoyment of civilised and social life; and the dashing of it away was my being sent, with very short warning, to an out-of-the-way station, whose name, to me, was strange—distance uncertain, but long—appearance unknown, and geographical position a most profound mystery.
Note 1. Since the above was written, many years have passed, and Dr Rae’s name has become famous, not only on account of successful discovery, but also in connection with the expeditions sent out in search of Sir John Franklin.
Note 2. It must be borne in mind that all the establishments we passed on the way belonged to the Hudson Bay Company.
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