Читать книгу In the Wake of the War Canoe - W. H. Collison - Страница 15

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It was in the autumn of 1875 that the first inquiry as to the practicability of starting a salmon-canning establishment on the Skeena River was made. I landed at Woodcock's landing, now known as Inverness, from a canoe, accompanied by twelve Indians, where I was introduced by Mr. Woodcock to a gentleman named Colonel Lane, who had just arrived on the H.B. Company's steamer. He informed me that he had come up the coast to ascertain if the salmon abounded in sufficient numbers to warrant the establishment of a cannery. It was a calm evening and sultry as betokening rain, and I had remarked that the salmon were jumping pretty freely, especially up the eastern outlet of the river. So, calling upon the newcomer to follow me, I led him down to the edge of the water where we could see clearly up the channel, and then directed him to look up. "There," I said; "you require no further evidence than that. And just here is about as good a site as you could find for such an establishment."

He was fully satisfied with the outlook, and so impressed with the advantage of the position that he at once entered into negotiations with the squatter for the purchase of the place. In this he succeeded, and returning to Victoria by the same trip of the steamer, he formed the company which took over Woodcock's landing, and erected the first cannery on the Skeena there, which was renamed by the company "Inverness." And the introduction of this industry on the north-west coast afterwards proved most advantageous to the Metlakahtla Mission.

Mr. Duncan had long laboured to introduce some industrial occupation which would prove profitable to the Indians and the Mission. The manufacture of soap had been tried but proved a failure, owing to the unsuitability of fish oil for the purpose. And even if it had succeeded, it would scarcely have proved profitable, seeing that the fish grease is sold by the Indians who extract it at two dollars to two dollars and a half per tin, containing five gallons, or fifty cents a gallon. Consequently this was abandoned.

The next industry sought to be introduced was that of spinning and weaving shawls and blankets. To this end an instructor was engaged, and machines and wool purchased and procured at considerable cost. But after due trial they only succeeded in turning out an article that none of them would purchase. Had the Indians been taught to manufacture the magnificent robes which are woven by the Chilcat tribe of Alaska from the wool of the mountain goat, and dyed by them with their own peculiar designs, the venture would not have been a failure. And why? it may be asked. Because it is an Indian design, and as such commands a high price. They are valued at from fifty to seventy dollars at the present time, and are in great demand by tourists and others.

ASCENDING A RIVER The canoe, which has been partially emptied, is being forced against a strong current by means of long poles which touch the bottom. The bow is on the right of the picture. The river banks are forest clad.

On one occasion when Mr. Duncan was expressing his regret at the failure of his effort to perfect this industry, and at the loss sustained over it, I ventured to introduce a subject which had for some time been on my mind. It was the advisability of introducing salmon canning as an industry. "You have," I said, "been contending against adverse circumstances. Even supposing your weaving had turned out successful in the manufacture, you could not hope to have competed with the imported article, having to pay freight on the raw material up the coast, whereas the manufacturers in Eastern Canada and elsewhere have the material at hand. No," I added, "why not introduce the salmon canning industry? You have the fishermen ready made and to order. They require no training, as every coast Indian is a fisherman from his youth up, and you have got another important advantage in your sawmill by which you can turn out not only the lumber for the erection of your buildings, but also the material for the salmon cases afterwards. And you are conveniently near to the salmon fishing waters of the Skeena to which the cannery men are now turning their attention." In reply, Mr. Duncan stated that it was impossible to start such an industry without a large capital. I suggested that it could be introduced on a small scale and gradually increased, and urged him on his next journey to Victoria to visit the Fraser River canneries and ascertain just what machinery would be necessary. In the spring Mr. Duncan left on a business trip to the south, and on his return announced his intention to erect a cannery. Not only had he realised his ability to introduce this industry, but he had found friends ready to invest in such an enterprise.

Shortly after the establishment of the first salmon cannery on the Skeena I visited it to conduct evangelistic services for the Indians there, when the manager of the cannery complained to me that the Christian Indians had refused to put out their nets for fish on Sundays. I informed him that I was glad to know that they were faithful to the teaching they had received and to the vows which they had made. At this he was rather indignant, and replied that they should have been taught to obey as their first duty. "That is just what we have endeavoured to do," I replied, "to obey God rather than man. Would you have us teach them some of the commandments and to set aside the rest? If we teach them, as we have, 'Thou shalt do no murder,' and 'Thou shalt not steal,' we must also teach them to 'Remember to keep holy the Sabbath Day.' And it is this teaching which has civilised and evangelised these men, and prepared them to become docile and industrious, whereas before they were fierce and indolent."

Just then a tall, intelligent-looking Indian approached me. I recognised him as one of our Metlakahtla Indians who had been present at my service. "Oh, sir," he said, in trembling tones, "I want your help; I want you to make peace for me. The white man who escaped when we attacked his party is here, and I long to grasp his hand. I want his forgiveness."

Several years previously a party of three miners, returning from the goldfields on the Upper Stikeen River, had encamped for the night on a small island off the mouth of the Skeena. Early the following morning a canoe, manned by Fort Simpson Indians, emerged from the mouth of the river. The miners had lit their camp fire, and were preparing their breakfast. Attracted by the smoke of the camp fire, the Indians steered for the island. They had been fishing, and had a number of salmon in their canoe. On landing they intimated their desire to sell the miners a fresh salmon. Glad of the offer, one of them inadvertently took out his bag of gold dust, and, taking from it a small pinch, handed it in exchange for the salmon. The Indians embarked, but not to proceed homewards. Their cupidity had been excited by the sight of the gold, and, instead of continuing on their course, they doubled around the further end of the island, which was thickly wooded, and paddled noiselessly until abreast of the camp on the opposite side. Then, creeping stealthily up, they fired a volley on the unsuspecting miners. Two of them fell mortally wounded, whilst the third fled to the off shore. Fortunately he was only dressed in his underclothing. Taking his bag of gold from his belt as he ran, he cast it into the deep, and then diving, he struck out for the further shore of a large island near. The Indians fired another volley after him, but he dived on the moment and escaped. Seeing that they had failed to shoot him, they rushed to the canoe, and, jumping in, paddled with all their power in order to intercept him. But it was useless; he was a powerful swimmer, and reaching the shore well in advance, he rushed into the forest and climbed a large tree, where he hid himself amongst the thick branches. As the trees grew thickly together, they failed to find him, and fearing discovery, or perhaps anxious for the plunder, they put off for the camp again to seize what they could, and then fled.

The fugitive remained in the tree that night, and in the morning, famished with cold and hunger, he descended and returned to the shore, where he peered out cautiously. He saw one canoe pass and then another, but they were both manned by men with their faces painted and arrayed as heathen Indians. After a little, a third canoe came in sight. At it drew near he observed that there were women in it as well as men, and from their civilised appearance he concluded they were Christian Indians from Metlakahtla. He therefore ventured out, and, standing on the shore, hailed them. Surprised at the sight of a white man in such a plight, and concluding that he must have been ship-wrecked, they took him aboard and brought him to the Mission. He told his sad story to Mr. Duncan, who sent and had the bodies of those who were killed decently interred. Two of the Indians were afterwards seized by a vessel of war, and taken to trial, and one at least was executed. A third, who had formed one of the attacking party, afterwards came and gave himself up at the Mission. He was also taken to Victoria and tried for the crime, but was acquitted, as there was no evidence to convict him.

This, then, was the man who now pleaded to be reconciled to the miner who had so miraculously escaped. Moved by his appeal, I accompanied him. He pointed out the miner to me, who was now engaged in the cannery. He was a man of about equal stature with the Indian, both of them being over six feet.

I saluted him, and informed him of the Indian; who he was, and what his desire. He scrutinised him for a moment. Then he exclaimed with indignation: "Forgive him? No, I will never forgive because I can never forget. That man and those with him shot my friends, and endeavoured to shoot me, and yet he wants my forgiveness. I had gained about five hundred dollars in gold, with which I intended to return to Norway and visit my old father and mother, but, when these Indians made the murderous attack on us, I was compelled to swim for my life. I cast my gold dust into the sea. I was unable to retrieve my loss, and my parents have both died since, and yet this man, who with his party destroyed both my friends and my prospects, asks me to forgive him."

I endeavoured to soften his heart towards the man he regarded as his enemy. I informed him of the great change he had undergone, and also reminded him that the Indians really guilty had been punished, whilst this man had been found not guilty of the crime. But it was useless. I turned to the Indian and explained to him what the miner had said. He felt it deeply, and tears stood in his eyes as I informed him of how he had been prevented from seeing his parents before they died. I sympathised with both these men, as I realised how deeply my white friend had suffered, and I could understand how anxious the Indian was to obtain forgiveness from his fellow-man, having been led to seek and find the Divine forgiveness. He had been baptized, and enrolled as a member of the Church.

Several years afterwards, when at the olachan fishery on the Nass River, a messenger came in breathless haste to call me to see a man who had fainted on the ice. I hastened to the spot and found it was this same Indian. I felt the pulse and found no sign of life; he had died. The intense cold had touched his heart. He had gone where his plea for forgiveness would not have been forgotten.

Whilst thus engaged in evangelising amongst the tribes on the coast and islands, I visited the fur-seal hunters encamped on Zyass and Bonilla Islands and other points. On both these islands, I had large and deeply interested gatherings of Haidas, Giat-kahtla, and Tsimshean Indian hunters, to whom I preached on the shore, with the waves of the rising or falling tides rolling in on the beach, and blending their music with our voices in the song of praise.

On one of these occasions, whilst passing from Bonilla Island to Giatlaub, at the head of Gardiner's Channel, by canoe, we were caught in Pitt Channel by a strong headwind, which compelled us to lie in shelter on the shore of Banks Island for several days, until our supply of provisions was well-nigh exhausted. Anxious to replenish our stock, as we were on half rations, I called on one of my crew to accompany me, and we started on a hunting trip to the interior of the island. My crew had informed me that there were no deer on the northern part of the island, and certainly I began to believe their report, as we could discern no traces of them. At length we reached a lake, lying near the base of a high range of hills, and, being tired, we sat down to rest on the trunk of a fallen tree. Pulling a blade of grass, I placed it between my thumbs and blew a few blasts. Hardly had I done so when my Indian hunter uttered an exclamation and, with uplifted finger, enjoined caution. He had heard a twig snap, away on the side of the hill. We turned round to scan the vicinity, and, as we did so, we sighted the white flank of a large deer as it turned to flee. Instantly I took aim and fired, and, with a cry of satisfaction, my companion sprang forward, whilst I took another course up the hill to where it had fallen. Handing me his hat and coat, my Indian hoisted the deer on his back and led the way to the shore. But the load was too heavy, and I took it from him when he showed signs of fatigue. And thus, turn and turn about, we reached the shore. A whoop apprised our crew of our success, and soon all were in the best of spirits, where, only a few hours before, all were depressed and discouraged.

Our evening service was bright and hearty that evening around the camp fire, as all realised how ready Our Father is to supply all our needs. After renewing our stock of provisions, I embarked again, to pay a visit to the Giatlaub Indians at the head of Gardiner's Channel. This tribe, owing probably to its isolation, had suffered greatly from repeated attacks by the Haidas in the past, their object being to enslave all whom they could capture. One of their number, a sub-chief named "Ka-daush," had visited Metlakahtla more than once, and evinced an earnest desire to impart the good news he had received himself to his tribe. To assist him, we had provided him with some large scriptural illustrations and texts, and a C.M.S. banner which I had received from the Missionary Leaves Association. He did what he could amongst his fellow-tribesmen, and at least he awakened a more earnest desire amongst them to know the way of God more perfectly. This desire we recognised by sending them a native preacher—a Tsimshean—who had long proved his faith and zeal by his life and conduct. After this man had been there a little time, I paid him this visit to encourage him and those whom he had been able to interest.

I found them encamped at the head of their wonderful channel, on a stream which flows into the head of the inlet. They were engaged in the olachan fishing, for this little fish is found there also, though in but small measure as compared with the Nass River. They are not so rich in grease, either, as those caught on the Nass.

I erected my tent near the camp and remained with them for several days, during which I was enabled to supplement and strengthen the labours of our native teacher. He had succeeded in making a translation from the Tsimshean of the grand old hymn "Rock of Ages," and it was both pathetic and soul-stirring to hear them unite in singing it at a service held outside my tent. Not far from the head of the inlet is the site of their old village, which was destroyed by an avalanche some time previously. It swept down upon the village at midnight before some of them had fallen asleep. As the mountain is very lofty and the avalanche started from the summit, they heard the ominous roar as it increased in force and volume, and had only time to arouse the camp. They seized what covering came to hand and fled almost naked, just in time to save their lives. The immense mass of rocks and debris which the snow carried down completely buried the village, and only the tops of some of the tall totems could be seen when I visited them. Ka-daush was afterwards baptized, the first-fruits of his tribe to Christianity. When the Wesleyan Methodist Missionary Society opened their Mission at Kitamat we withdrew from Giatlaub, as it could more conveniently be worked in connection with the former, and the language is similar.

The mountain scenery up the Gardiner's Channel is most impressive. It is one of the longest inlets on the coast. These fine watercourses so deep and wide, cutting in through the mountain ranges, form one of the natural wonders of the north-west coast. Cataracts shooting over lofty cliffs here and there add to the grandeur of the scene. We passed under one of these about half-way up the inlet, and as we were all heated with paddling in the warm sunshine, we were glad of the cool spray which was blown over us by the breeze.

Our old steersman, who was a Giat-kahtla, related many thrilling adventures which he had in these waters when a young man. In passing one rocky inlet he informed us that this was formerly a stronghold of his tribe. On one occasion they were attacked by a large fleet of the Stikeen Indians, assisted by other Alaskan tribes. When apprised of their approach, they all fled to this natural fort. There was but one approach to the summit of the rock, and this was defended by sections of thick logs over four feet in diameter, placed in position to roll down on any number of their foes who might be bold enough to endeavour to rush the position. On the occasion referred to a number of the attacking party had been overwhelmed by one of these great logs, which had been rolled down upon them. Then, with stones and arrows hurled upon those within range in their canoes, they were enabled to defend their position and repel the attack. That night, when our little camp was all quiet and we were stretched to rest, I was aroused by the war-whoop. In an instant we were all on our feet; it was from our steersman, who was evidently fighting the old battles over again. We woke him up as he continued to shout at intervals. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "I have had such a bad dream. We were attacked by the Haidas, and I could not find my gun whilst they were almost upon us." I reminded him that the troubled days of the past had gone and the Prince of Peace had established peace for them both with Himself and towards their fellow-men, and in the consciousness of this blessed peace our camp was soon quiet again.