I would here remark, that this canoe had been charted, as was afterwards learned, by the gentleman passenger before noticed, to take him from the Falls of St. Mary to Mackinaw, a distance of an hundred miles, the half of which is over the open sea of Huron. This mode of travelling in the North-West, resorted to by necessity, is not only a substitute for stage-coaches and steam-boats, but is scarcely less expeditious, when the canoe is manned and propelled by a select corps of Indians.
Our passage this afternoon has been picturesque and interesting, especially when allied to its associations, beyond my powers to describe. The scenery in itself stands unrivalled, by anything I have ever seen, or conceived, for its variety, and wildness, and beauty. And then it is to be observed, that scarcely a trace of man is left imprinted here, except rarely, upon the shores, may be found the marks of a transient Indian encampment;—that the forests are so dark and thick, that the wild buck, with his branching horns, cannot run among them;—that the trees and shrubbery are of a character peculiar to the climate;—and that innumerable firs may be seen shooting up their conical tops, over the rest of the forest, not inferior, in the exactitude and symmetry of their proportion, to the most beautiful spire of a church. And the frequent islands, together with the straits and bays, which they necessarily create, would utterly defy any but an experienced pilot, with his compass, to make his way from Lake Huron to Lake Superior. Often we have seemed to be running directly on the shore; when in an instant some channel, darkened by the overhanging wood, opened and invited us to enter, as the only way of egress. And then again a half-dozen channels offer themselves, each perhaps equally attractive, and confounding choice. And their serpentine course, and the abruptness of their angles, after once the right one is selected, by dodging the islands and shooting across the bays;—the alternate expansions and contractions, forming successively small basins and narrows;—contribute equally to amaze and delight the unexpecting voyager. Hills and mountains too, in every shape—not even the likeness of which presents itself on any shore of the lakes between this region and Buffalo—here lift themselves up in near and distant vision, one above another, restoring the long-lost charm of such a scene, and making the accustomed tenant of the hills at home again.
The chapter of incidents also gave additional variety and interest to this new and rapidly shifting scene. On turning one of those sharp angles, about twenty miles above the point, where we first entered these straits, some lodges of Indians, as they are called, perched in the bushes on the bank, opened upon us, being recognised by the reflection of white birch bark, with which they are covered. These lodges, are made as light, and are as soon taken down and removed, as a soldier’s camp tent. And they are the only habitations of the wild Indians, in their migratory enterprises of war, hunting, and fishing. In these regions, indeed, they have little else to shelter them, either in winter, or summer. The wall of the lodge, is a sort of mat, or woven texture of the wild rice stalk, found growing in shallow waters; and which, after being shaken of its fruits into a floating canoe, for food, is pulled up and manufactured into this useful article, serving, like the Turk’s rug, for bed and chair, to the more luxurious; and also for a part of the lodge, or house, by being drawn, itself erect, in a circle of some ten, or fifteen feet in diameter, according to the extent of the household to be accommodated;—the whole being capped with pieces of birch bark to turn the rain; in the apex of which, ordinarily from six to ten feet in elevation, is left a small aperture for the escape of the smoke. The Indians here, depending more upon fish, than upon the chase, make these slender encampments immediately upon the margin of the waters, each consisting generally, in times of peace, of a group of a few families, with one canoe, or two, for each household, according to its number. At a few minutes’ notice, whether started by alarm, or actuated by motives of change, the whole encampment, with all their furniture, may be seen afloat, and darting off for some new retreat. The encampment is again established, with the same dispatch, as that, which characterised its breaking up;—and they are all at home again, with their canoes drawn ashore, and turned bottom upwards; and the smoke is seen, emitting its lazy currents from their newly-erected lodges.
One of these encampments suddenly burst upon us, as we made a turning this afternoon. Immediately a canoe, filled with these sons of the forest—and it might be added, the lords of these wild waters—with rifles in hand, launched from the shore, in our advance, and bore down upon us. And what was amusing, the American ensign floated over it, though somewhat smoked and rent by use, or abuse. This was an indication, that a chief was on board of the canoe, as men of this rank in the Tribes within the jurisdiction of the United States, are often presented with a government flag. On the Canadian frontier they are not unfrequently able to display the flag of either nation, Great Britain, or the States, as may suit their purposes. Instantly, as they shot from the shore, a feu de joie saluted us; and the channel, pent up by the dark forests, echoed as briskly with the popping of their rifles, as if they had been engaged in a running fight. They seemed to paddle with one hand, and load and fire with the other; and in such rapid succession, that no Yankee could equal them, even with both hands. But with all their eagerness and noise, they could not bring our captain to speak. Whether he doubted their intent, and was afraid of being shot, I cannot tell. Perceiving the captain’s incivility, and themselves fast dropping astern of us in consequence, down went their rifles into the bottom of the canoe, and both hands of every Indian being applied to the paddles, they seemed resolved on overtaking us: and so indeed they did, deciding the question at once, that the Indian paddle is swifter than steam. As a reward for this extraordinary feat,—they seeming no wise unfriendly in their dispositions, but making all signs of good feeling, laughing, and rattling off with indescribable volubility their unintelligible jargon—we threw them a tow-line, and having caught it, they immediately dropped under our stern;—and in this relation we held a long parley with them, by means of an interpreter on board our vessel, ascertaining them to be of the Chippewa tribe, and possessing ourselves of sundry items of information, which they were able to communicate, and which we were curious and much gratified to know. Some of our passengers, delighted with such a visit, threw them some pieces of money; and the scramble, which ensued in the canoe, plainly proved, that however perfect their unsophisticated society may be, they had not yet arrived to the happy condition of holding all things common. The amusement, which this strife occasioned, turned out to the no small profit of the Indians. For a shower of copper and silver coin poured into the canoe, till they all had busy work in picking it up. And when, perchance, a white piece fell into the water—(as some of them did)—alas! what a grave countenance the poor Indians put on, and smote their hands in agony, and looked up, as if they were about to expire with regret. The rattling of another piece of coin in the bottom of their canoe would bring them to their senses again, and renew the squabble. When, however, the purse was satisfied, in rendering its contents, a bottle of whiskey, with a cord to its neck, was lowered to the eager grasp of these tawney and simple folk. But not being inclined to drink it on the spot, how should they dispose of it, and return the bottle, which for some reason was not offered them. It was a decanter, I believe, belonging to the steward. Necessity being the mother of invention, a smoked tin kettle, of some gallons’ capacity, used for cooking over their fires, yet having been well cleaned by the tongue of the dogs, the common way of performing this office—was snatched up from the bottom of the canoe for the occasion, and received the contents. The bottle was returned, and filled, and sent down again, a plural number of times; till, I am sorry to say, they had got enough, in their capacious vessel, to make the whole camp drunk—and which will probably occasion a famous pow-wow, or Indian carousal. After our guests had been kept in tow long enough to satisfy curiosity, and to enrich them by these bounteous gifts, we let them drop, and they returned to their lodges.
A few miles above at another turning, another Indian camp, and much larger than the last, opened upon us, showing an extended cluster of lodges, on the shore; and numerous canoes drawn up in the usual style. As they were unapprised of our coming, they seemed utterly amazed—and men, women, and children ran about, and the dogs barked, as if confusion and war had come upon them. Immediately the men darted from their lodges, with rifle in hand, while the women and children launched the canoes; and in the shortest imaginable space we were right on the shore, within thirty feet of this strange assemblage of human beings;—and pop—pop—pop—went their rifles, directly at us, in a quick and furious volley, as if they would shoot every one of us from the deck. I am sure for one, I started back, contracted myself within the smallest possible dimensions, and dodged a little. And I dare to say, I was not alone in these sensations. To be thus saluted, by such uncertain beings, having nothing to defend us, was not altogether welcome. Even if their rifles had nothing in them more solid, the very wadding might have come in our faces. No one, however, was killed; and it proved to be a mere feu de joie, to express how glad they were to see us. Ours is only the third Steam-packet, that has ever penetrated this region; and this particular group of Indians probably never saw one before. We soon ran by them; but had not passed out of sight, before we plunged upon a sand-bar. This accident gave them an opportunity to fill their canoes, and come along side, and offer their assistance and hospitality: the manner of which was certainly very grateful, although the things offered were not very valuable. While we were engaged in working off the vessel, which occupied an hour, they amused us greatly by their talk and manners, and received, like our other guests, no trifling donations from the passengers—not trifling to them. Through ignorance of these channels, we have run aground some half-dozen times, and being overtaken by night, in this wild and dark retreat, under the very boughs of the forest, we are compelled to lie at anchor, and wait for day-light—within five miles of our place of destination:—the Saut de St. Marie.
CHAPTER X.
THE SAUT DE ST. MARIE, &c.
The Saut de St. Marie, it may be understood, is the name given by the French traders to the Falls, or rapids, which let the waters of Lake Superior down to the level of Lake Huron. Anglice: the Falls, or jump, or bound of St. Mary—or by personification, St. Mary’s leap down from her dominion over the waters above to assert her empire over the waters below. Whether I have got the exact clue to the imagination of the French Catholics, in their application of this name, and am right in my interpretation, I am not quite sure. But this has seemed to me most natural. The Falls themselves are as lovely and as gentle, (shall I say?) as the sudden rush of such a tremendous flood, down an equable descent of twenty-two feet in a mile, can well be imagined; and if the Spirit of the Tempest and of the Furies might be supposed to preside over Niagara’s thundering Cataract, the imagination of a Catholic might well be allowed to instal the Holy Virgin over the rapids, which are honoured by her name—especially, as taking up his own residence there, he might more conveniently invoke and secure her protection and blessing. But he must needs have something for her to do—she must be occupied. Why, then, say: these Falls are St. Mary—and their roaring is her voice; and when he should stand in need of her assistance, he was sure to find her there. Hence: the Saut de St. Marie.
On the occasion of the incident before narrated, of meeting the gallant Indian canoe, propelled by eight men, and in such display of their grotesque and glittering paraphernalia, shooting over the tops of the waves, and scarcely touching them, I happened to be in conversation, on the deck of the steamer, with a young lady, a native of the Saut de St. Marie, whose father was a Scotchman, or Scotch-Irish, and her mother an Indian. She was well educated, and was on her return home from a visit at Detroit. She was even highly accomplished, and had been used to the best society. Any common reader of the emotions, passing in the mind, would have seen, that when this canoe first hove in sight, this young lady’s feelings were in a lively and agreeable excitement. The hands and arms of an infant child would not have been opened and spread out with more expressive welcome, nor would his eyes have sparkled with more vivacity, at the sudden appearance of a loved object, that had been too long out of sight for his happiness, than hers, at the sight of this Indian canoe. It was the genuine, simple eloquence of nature, which opened the heart; on the bright page of which, sparkling with satisfaction, might be read without the possibility of mistake: ‘I am glad. This is home. That canoe was launched from before my mother’s door this morning. I know what it is—and who they are. That has been the delight of my youth—the familiar object of my childhood—it was the wonder of my infancy—and I shall be where it came from to-night.’
The sudden betraying of these emotions was so artless, as to be unavoidable. She seemed conscious, that her feelings were partly betrayed, and made a slight effort to check and conceal them. But I encouraged the developement—for nothing could have delighted me more, or given me a higher opinion of her character; and she in turn very frankly confessed her partialities for these objects, which connected her with home. While the canoe approached; and while it rested over against us; and when it darted off and disappeared, as before described; the whole scene gave new being to her affections, roused the lurking and dormant sensibilities, which are naturally challenged by such an incident; and they were played off without restraint, and in such a style, as no one could fail to admire.
When I saw the next day, at the romantic and wild retreat of the Saut de St. Marie, the humble cabin, where the infancy of this young lady had been cradled, and where her earliest years had been spent—I could but exclaim:—What is home? An accident; the creature of wonted circumstances—of early and habitual associations; it is not a place, but a mysterious centre of the affections, produced by these casualties. It may be any where—on any spot of earth; it may be floating on the deep, and never at rest; it may be in heaven, and ought to be there.