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WITH the New Year there came
to us, by way of rumor passed from camp to camp, the strange news that there
was serious trouble in the Red River Settlement. Mysterious messages came to
the leading Indians, tobacco to be smoked, and a cause to be joined which
promised wonderful things in the near future. Then it became known that Riel
and the French half-breeds and their sympathizers in the Red River had taken
Fort Garry. The native tribes were called upon to join them or suffer in
their turn, and I was sent out from camp to camp to counteract as much as
possible this influence. The large gatherings of Indians during January,
February and March of 1870 were at the last points of timber around Calling
Lake, and it took long journeys to reach them. Moreover, the winter was a
very stormy one, with the roads always full and largely non-existent. I had
good dogs, and was always a welcome companion to the Hudson's Bay Company
and free traders in their travelling and trading parties passing to and fro.
Many a hundred miles did I break the roads for such that winter, and they in
turn gave me companionship and great respect and help when needed. Then I
would stop for days alone with the Indians, going from lodge to lodge
attending councils, and, when I could, holding meetings and giving lectures,
which you may be sure were at the time packed full of English history and
Canadian experience and fair play, justice and liberty. Such men as Sweet
Grass, Pakan, Little Hunter Who Frightens Them, Bob Tail, Big Bear, and a
host of their contemporaries were my auditors and my companions. I slept in
their lodges, ate with them, and became a friend in whom I verily believe
they came to have confidence, for they did not smoke rebellion tobacco and
did not budge under the torrent of falsehood and deception which was poured
into their ears by interested parties. I am sorry to say there were rebels
in the Saskatchewan, but they were not Indians nor yet half-breeds, but men
who, while living under the British flag, and enjoying the largest measure
of liberty under the same, were and are always disloyal to Britain. The
hated English Government was talked about, but during 1870 none of the
Indians or half-breeds of the farther west listened to such talk.
Towards spring we heard more
definitely about Riel's sojourn in Fort Garry, and also that the Canadian
Government was organizing an expedition against him. Of the issue of this we
had no doubt, and loudly we sounded our faith in the ears of all the people.
In the meantime we were extremely anxious. Around us were firebrands, and
intensely inflammable material was to be found in every camp and settlement.
Then the problem stared us in the face, where were we to obtain supplies for
the coming year, the clothing and ammunition so necessary, to say nothing
about groceries and simple luxuries? And then, how long could we counteract
the influences of rebellion with its license of loot and plunder? I can
assure my readers, as the spring of 1870 opened there were some anxious
souls in the great West. To add to this there came rumors of some fell
disease to the south of us. It was said that the Indians beyond the border
were dying by the hundreds. Smallpox was mentioned, and we shuddered at the
sound, for we were a thousand miles from a medical man and without medicine.
Worse still, we were without law and in the midst of an ignorant, excitable
people. The chief magistrate or chief factor, Wm. J. Christie, Esq., and
father had many a consultation on the state of affairs. One proposition was
to open up communication with the States by way of Fort Bent, but for some
reason this was not done, and after a hard winter of travel and camp life,
most of it distant from home so far as I was concerned, spring came and with
it an intensifying of war and disease rumors.
One day Lawrence Clark, of
Fort Canton, a Hudson's Bay officer, came along and told us of the killing
of Scott by Rid, and the possibilities of more such acts to follow. How long
would the Indians near us hold out? That was the question. They were being
worked hard. Would they yield? We exalted the Government, we decried
rebellion, we pooh-poohed the idea of Riel and his friends holding out very
long. We said, "Hold on even until midsummer and see," and I am thankful
that the people even to a man did hold on to loyalty and reason. Father
accompanied Mr. Clark on to Edmonton, but they were headed off by local war
up there. The Blackfeet were on the scene. During March a few Blackfeet,
believing the most of the Crees were out on the plains and farther east,
came into Edmonton to trade, and when leaving they were ambushed at the top
of the Southern River, where a most brutal massacre took place. A fellow,
Tak-kooch by name, had feasted and danced with them at the fort, and then he
had organized his following and arranged his plans, and the result was much
blood. This was in revenge for the killing of Maskepetoon, and also for many
crimes on the part of the Blackfeet.
When the few who escaped
reached the Blackfoot camp there was hasty preparation, and a large party of
warriors, several hundreds in number, came in to have their turn at revenge.
However, it so happened that the Hudson's Bay Company's post-master at
Pigeon Lake and my brother David, who also had a small branch post at the
same place, were now on their way to Edmonton and Victoria. The Rev. Peter
Campbell was also in the party, and, as it occurred, these just about timed
with the Blackfeet on the south bank of the river, nearly opposite the fort.
Fortunately some one gave the alarm, and the most of the party, including
the women and children, managed to escape across the river and reach the
shelter of the fort. So hurried was their flight that they had to leave all
their belongings on the south bank. My brother and my friend Samson wanted
to organize and meet the Blackfeet at the top of the hill and send them back
on the jump, which no doubt would have been the result of such tactics,
though some killing would of necessity have been the consequence. But the
gentleman in charge of the fort resolutely shut the gates and would not
consent to such a move; so David, with Samson, who stayed with him, crossed
what stuff they could, and when the war-party came out in full force at the
river they were climbing the steep banks before the fort gates with the best
packs of furs to serve as shields when the bullets came. Come the bullets
did, fast and furious, but as the guns were inferior and the distance
considerable no one was hurt. And now that the Blackfeet took none by
surprise and the fort was shut, they turned their attention to the carts
that were beside them, which were full of goods and leather and furs and
provisions. Here was a genuine windfall to these warriors; clothing and
blankets, prints and shirts, and all manner of good articles, as well as
pemmican and dried meat and tea and sugar. Settling down beside these good
things they spent the night, every now and then firing a fresh fusilade at
the fort, but doing no harm. They made a bonfire of the carts and divided
the spoils, and they kept up a racket all night, and doubtless in their own
style and to their own tune sang most lustily, "We won't go home till
morning," and then went, for the next day found them a minus quantity near
Edmonton.
It was on the night of this
occurrence that Mr. Clark and father were approaching the fort, and hearing
the constant shooting, and not knowing what it might mean, wisely took cover
until the next morning, when, scouting in, they found the fort all right,
but still in a state of excitement over the raid. With rebellion at
headquarters, which also was the base of supplies, tribal war around us and
the fearful scourge of smallpox in sight, truly the whole Saskatchewan
country was in a bad state at this time, and for all this there seemed to be
no prospect of immediate relief. No government, no protection, no board of
health, no doctors, no medicine— certainly under God we were completely
thrown on our own resources. Nevertheless, we were hopeful, and at once
began to plan. The Chief Factor went to Fort Garry to watch events, and if
possible to obtain supplies and forward these west. Father also went east
and joined the Rev. George Young in the little village of Winnipeg, where he
could follow events. He also was anxious about supplies and friends who
might be coming west at that time. Father told me that after reaching the
Red River and sizing up Riel and his troops in Fort Garry, he would have
been delighted to be one of twenty men to go in and run the whole party out,
but there were no men to respond. Word that Col. Wolseley and the volunteers
were coining kept up the hopes of the loyal, and also acted upon the Riel
faction so as to keep them passive. In quiet these kept the fort, in quiet
the balance of the country awaited developments, and in due time the
developments came. When the troops reached Fort Garry and found it
evacuated, any one asking for the Riel rebellion would have met the echo,"
Where?" It was gone, had suddenly atomized and entirely disappeared. All now
were loyal; the mere mention of rebellion thenceforth would hurt feelings,
and so on.
In the greater West we had
kept the huge farce out from any actual flame, but as weeks went by we were
menaced by woeful disease. Horrible tales of whole camps being dead and the
epidemic growing in virulence came in to us from the south. Father had said
to me with strong emphasis, "Scatter them, scatter them; do all you can to
scatter the people, John, for that is the only hope of saving them." In the
meantime, acting on this, we encouraged our settlers at Victoria to move on
to the plains early in the season, or to go out to the lakes north of us;
and with only four men at the Hudson's Bay post, and a young Indian lad,
Job, and myself at the Mission, we kept down the plague and were on guard
day and night.
Anxious and careful, and
sometimes exceedingly fearful, the early summer of 1870 found us at
Victoria, on the north bank of the Saskatchewan, with the people belonging
to the settlements scattered, father far distant, no actual definite word
from Fort Garry, rumors rife, smallpox drawing nearer, and small war-
parties around us. Why the latter did not attack I cannot tell. Of, course,
we were always ready; a gun, such as it was, at every window; an axe behind
every door; mother and sisters and wife drilled to load and handle guns; Job
and I on guard all night, and so far as in was concerned, never really
asleep at any time. The Blackfeet shot our cattle and stole our horses, but
did not attack us. Many a time during those weary nights and days I wished
they would, and let us have it out to a finish, but still the waiting and
watching went on.
One day a messenger came from
Edmonton on horseback bringing a letter from the Rev. Peter Campbell, asking
me to send him by the bearer some sugar that he had stored in our provision
shed, also inquiring very kindly about "our friends, the northern
Ishmaelites." That night the Blackfeet stole fourteen horses, Mr. Campbell's
being the fourteenth, and his horse we found a few miles down the river,
stabbed to death, the thieves evidently having quarrelled over the spoils.
So I sent his man back on foot, and after writing Mr. Campbell a good long
letter on matters in general, I put in a postscript telling him my reason
for not sending him his sugar was that his friends, "the northern
Ishmaelites," were not dead nor yet sleeping; that they had visited us the
night before and had stolen our horses and his also, but had killed his,
doubtless having recognized their friend's animal.
Such were the existing
conditions when some of our half-breed population came in hurriedly from the
plains, fleeing from the approaching smallpox. The tales these brought were
alarming, and we felt the coining of the disease to us was inevitable. The
Wood Crees would come in without fail, and as many of their young men had
gone south on the warpath, the infection must come north. By leaps and
bounds the destroyer came on, from Sioux and Grovount and Crow to Piegan and
Blood and Blackfoot and Sarcee, and from these to their hereditary foes, the
Mountain and Wood Stoneys. We did as instructed. We scattered these
half-breeds, we closed our church services and took every precaution, but
soon in came the large camps, and already the disease was well spread. We
continued to urge isolation, and as many as listened almost to a man
escaped. But there were many who were now diseased, and others who would not
budge, and others extreme fatalists, and in a few days we were surrounded by
disease. The sick and dying and dead were everywhere in our vicinity;
however, our isolation cry saved many, and the deaths around us were few
compared with the settlements and camps east and west and south of us.
In the vicinity of St. Paul,
where the Rev. Mr. Lacombe was starting a mission, there was great
mortality. It seemed strange that all through the country the Roman Catholic
priests encouraged the people to congregate and gather into large camps, and
because we did our best to isolate them the argument used by the priests was
that we were personally afraid of the disease. "Come to us and we will save
you" was the language of a leading priest to some of our people whom we had
succeeded in sending off by themselves, but one of the head men answered
that they knew of one Saviour only, and He was Jesus Christ. I firmly
believe that hundreds of poor deluded folk became the victims of the
congregating of the infected. The disease quickly assumed a most virulent
form and became most deadly. Right out in full view of our dining-room
windows was a camp in which all had died save one son, a young man, and the
father. This son was now dying, and the poor father, heart-broken but
assiduous in his attentions, was doing all he could for his boy. Presently
the young man died, and the father rushed up to me for a bit of cotton or a
shirt to bury him in. Rummaging among my things I brought out an old shirt,
which the sorrow-stricken man seized and ran down to dress his son's corpse
in. I sat down to dinner, and as I ate watched him. Having laid his boy out,
he raised himself up, gave a leap, and himself fell down dead. I ran to him
to make sure, and then came back to finish my dinner, and presently found
myself with a feeling of shame at my hard-heartedness. The fact was we
became accustomed to death and to scenes of sorrow and fearful destitution.
Coming home one morning from
a death peculiarly harrowing, I felt the grip of the disease, and had to
lean up against the fence several times before I could reach home. Going
into the house I asked mother and my wife to have our room emptied of
everything, and then asked for a tub of hot water and a double dose of
Dover's powder. Having taken the powder and got into the tub of hot water, I
presently slid into bed under plenty of clothing, and from excruciating pain
went off into a profuse perspiration, which gave me relief. The pain in my
back was almost unbearable for a time, but the simple remedies did good in
my case, and the next day I was again out amongst my patients. A grand old
man, Thomas Woolsey or Red Bank by name, was dying in a little brush hut.
All alone I found him, and we sang his favorite hymn. His voice quavered in
weakness and mine in sorrow, but our faith was strong, and the good man
said, "I am going on, John; it is all right. My body is corrupt and will
soon decay, but my spirit is young and strong, and Jesus will take me home."
As I stood there beside the bent leaves of the fluttering willows in the
shade of which my friend lay dying, his body terrible to behold in its
premature corruption, and listened to his clear, emphatic testimony to the
comfort and assurance and triumph of faith in Jesus Christ, my own heart was
made strong in this blessed gospel. How often during these days did I long
for father's company. Some of the Indians were very sullen, and at times
most insolent; they went about armed to the teeth, and were ready for any
excuse to commit violence. This was a white man's disease, and they hated
the whites. We were living all the time on the thin crust of a volcano; we
felt it in the air, we met it on the path, it was stamped on the faces of
both men and women with whom in past times we had been on the most friendly
terms. The strain was continuous, disease and death and danger constant. I
often think of the true heroism of my mother at this time. She worked on,
perfectly conscious of all the danger, but making no fuss, no noise. To me
her conduct was sublime, and my wife and sisters all did their part. We had
no scenes; each felt that work and duty were now in place. One day in
midsummer, or a little later, a traveller came along going east, and he
waited while I wrote a note to father to hurry him up if possible. While
writing I heard the neigh of a horse, and recognized it as that of Little
Bob No. 2, and running out, there was father. Oh, how glad I and the others
were He had with him Mr. Hardisty and my sister, also another sister who had
come from Ontario. Having gone away a little girl, she now came back to us
in the full bloom of young womanhood. More possible victims of either
disease or massacre was the silent thought of some of us, and yet we were
delighted to see our loved ones again, and took hold with fresh grip to
stand off mishap or evil of any kind. Father's coming was as a breath of
strength and security to many; his experience and strong individuality
seemed as a refuge unto which one might run and be comforted. He gave us the
first real intelligence of the arrival of the troops and the establishing of
law and government in the Red River Settlement. He worked almost night and
day in the camps around us, and many a poor heart took hold on both material
and spiritual life because of his help and cheer. To me his coming was
indeed a heaven-send, for within a few days of his arrival, because of undue
exposure, I was taken down with inflammation of the lungs, and father dosed
and nursed me back to life. As a Western man would say, "it was a close
call," but God and father and wife and mother raised me up again. It took
three years to bring inc back to my wonted strength, yet I was again at work
within the month. From every direction came the reports of disease and many
deaths. At Moose Lake, east of us, a whole settlement died, and when the
spot was silently approached by a lone traveller, the one survivor, a little
boy, fled from out of the unburied dead, and it took considerable search and
craft to catch this child and allay his fears and save him. Up the river
between us and Edmonton another camp of some fifty souls lay down and died,
and but two children survived. I knew all of these and had lived amongst
them at Pigeon Lake and on the plains, but in a few days, nay, in a few
hours, from strength and cunning and human might and skill, of which in
large measure they were possessed, they fell before this terrible disease
which was now sweeping over our fair country.
At Big Lake, now St. Albert,
right alongside the largest Roman Catholic mission in the West, with bishop
and many priests and brothers and sisters and nuns, the French half-breeds
were cut down to less than half their number, three hundred and twenty dying
in a short time. Along the mountains some of our Mountain Stoneys persisted
in entering a Piegan camp, and bringing home the infection, spread it among
their people. These all too late started north, and all along the valleys
between Old Mans and the Bow left their dead. From where Morley now is, on
both sides of the Bow, up to where Banff is situated, as one Stoney said to
me, "it was a graveyard, and the crying went up both day and night." From
the best information we could obtain it was reasonable to estimate that
fully half of the native tribes perished during the season of 1870 through
the ravages of smallpox. If it were true that this foul disease was
purposely brought among the Indians by revengeful white men (as was
reported), then this brutal act accomplished its devilish end, but oh, the
suffering and misery of it all! And in the meantime war went on and
intensified the trouble. Day and night we had to watch, and so the summer
passed with a dark cloud of death and sorrow covering one of the fairest
countries in the world, "where every prospect pleases and only man is vile." |
