“Oh, Let Me Have Just a Little, Sir!”
On a journey down the east coast of Vancouver Island my Indian boy, Charlie, and I, having travelled about twenty-five miles in a small canoe, touched at a little village on a beautiful island where I had often visited and preached before.
Just as our canoe struck the beach, on the north point of the island, a young man by the name of Jacob, who was already “half seas over,” called out, “Mr. Crosby, whiskey, whiskey!”
I jumped out and ran across the point of land, and here was a big fellow, named Comox Tom, with a large canoe, just pushing off.
Too late to reach them, as they paddled away as quickly as possible, I turned around through the village and found they had had a “whiskey feast.” And, oh! what a sight! nearly all drunk—men, women and children.
Seeing that I could do them no good, I turned and said to my boy Charlie, “Will you go with me, and we will overhaul that canoe, or they will do the same bad work at another place?”
“Yes, I’ll go, sir!” he replied.
Just then Jacob, the man who had called to me, came forward and jumped into the canoe, saying that he would go too.
Off we went, following the big canoe, which was now well over towards the other island, some three miles away. Our little craft, with three good paddles and plenty of elbow grease, fairly leaped over the water, and it was soon evident that we were catching up to them with their heavy canoe.
As we got near I saw the old man at the bow set his musket by his side and the man at the stern get his ready also, while the two women, who sat in midships, each armed herself with an axe. It looked as if they were getting everything ready for a fight.
I stopped paddling and called to the big fellow, Tom, who was steering the large canoe, to stop and listen to what I had to say.
“Tom, we have not come to fight,” I said, “but I must have the liquor.” And then to my helpers, “Pull up alongside, boys!”
As soon as we were alongside of their big canoe I seized hold of a five-gallon can of whiskey and began pouring it out. While I was doing this my boys in the bow of the canoe hauled on board a case of “Old Tom.” The big Indian, in the meanwhile, got hold of the can as I was pouring it out and claimed it as his own.
“Well, Tom, pour it out yourself,” I said. “Pour it out, I tell you!” I shouted.
Tom held it over the side, just near to me, and poured away until it was nearly all gone; then he stopped, and in a pleading voice said, “Oh! let me have just a little, sir!” But I kicked it out of his hand overboard and warned him not to sell liquor among the people along the coast any more.
I asked if we had got all the liquor, and Tom, feeling bad at losing his, nodded to me, pointing to the boxes on which the women sat, as much as to say, “There is more liquor there.” But try as we could, the women remained firm, sitting like statues, and we could not remove them.
Turning to Tom I said, “I might have had you put in the ‘skookum-house’” (as they call the jail), “but I want you to do better. Will you be a better Indian and stop this business?”
He readily promised. Then I called to the boys in my canoe to hand me the case of liquor, and taking the bottles two by two, I smashed them together until they were all destroyed. Just as the last two were going the young fellow, Jacob, who had worked so well and had evidently come with us in expectation of being able to secure a little more, reached to me and said, “Oh, do let us have a little, sir!” Poor fellows, how feebly they seemed to realize the awful effects upon themselves of strong drink.