"Now these poor white men on the sea met with some Indians. The Indians said they were hungry, and the white men gave them bread. Was that the act of a friend or an enemy? Then, when the Indians saw that the white men were good and confiding, and saw a little bread, and a saw and some tools, and a musket and a pistol, the devil came to them and said, 'Kill these white men, do not stop because they gave you bread when you were hungry; kill them, and take the saw and the musket and the bread.' These things the devil put on his hook with which he was fishing for the souls of the Indians, as men put a small fish on a hook to catch salmon and halibut. And the Indians listened to the voice of the devil, and slew these men, who were not fighting, nor had either they or the Indians declared war or anger at all. They slew these men while the bread of charity was still in their mouths. This is treachery and murder. All people hate murder, all people seek to have revenge for murder. This is the law among Indians also. If a white man kill an Indian, the Indians desire that white man to be put to death. Now my people come to me and ask for satisfaction. The law among the whites is that they cannot have revenge unless I permit it. Now my people come and ask me for revenge. But many snows have fallen upon this blood, and they hide it from my sight. Many snows have fallen also on my head; my head is very white, and I have seen many things. When the head is white, the heart ought to be prudent and moderate. I will not therefore take the lives of these Indians now before me, though they are all in my hand, and if I close it, it will strangle them all. My head is white, but my hand is strong, and my heart is not weak. If I punish them less than by killing them, it is not because I am weak, nor because I am afraid. But I want to do good to these Indians. What good would their lives do me! Their lives are of no use to me to take at present. But I wish to preserve their lives, and to change their lives. I wish to change their hearts, and to let them see that our laws are good and our hearts are good, and that we do not kill, even when we have a right to kill, and when we have the power to kill. There is a rock at Metlakatlah, and a rock at Victoria, upon which their old canoe has split. Now I offer them a new canoe. When men are sailing in an old broken canoe, and have with difficulty got to shore, and made a small camp, if anybody offer them a fine new canoe with which to continue the voyage of life, they should accept the offer gladly. Now there is a much better canoe, as they may see, at Metlakatlah. I wish them to sail in such a canoe for the future, and to adopt a better rule of life, and a better law of religion. They must at present go back to prison until I speak with the other great chiefs of my people, and see what is best for them to be done. I shall try and persuade the other chiefs to send them away to Metlakatlah, to do what Mr. Duncan shall tell them, and to live as they shall direct. And so long as they live well and quietly, and learn and labour truly to get their own living, I shall not remember the blood which they have spilt.
"The prisoners themselves may see that our law is a better law than theirs. For two whole days I have been sitting here listening to the voice of my people, complaining of murders and of violence, and of robbery and oppression. Whoever has suffered, he comes freely and complains to me. Now the prisoners have been in court all this time, and they have seen Indians accused, and Chinamen, but they have seen no white man accused.
"Yet there are some bad white men, who would, perhaps, steal or commit violence, if they were not afraid. They are afraid of our law, which fills me and gives me strength, so that if I fall on a man I break him to pieces. But even bad white men, through fear, are restrained. Now, therefore, I think that it will much more restrain Indians who are inclined to do evil, and support and guide those who are inclined to do well.
"If the other chiefs listen to my voice, and the prisoners behave well at Metlakatlah, it shall be well. But if they do that which is wrong, my anger will burn up again very fiercely, and it will melt the snows which cover the blood of the men whom they have killed, and I shall see the blood and be very angry, and will burn them all up in my anger.
"Let them cease to believe in sorcerers, who have now no strength since Christianity is established. Let them become Christians, and so their hearts will be made really and permanently good."
A touching illustration of the reputation of Metlakahtla, as a refuge for the suffering and oppressed, occurs in a letter of Mr. Duncan's, dated March, 1876:—
"A poor slave woman, still young in years, who had been stolen away when a child, and carried to distant tribes in Alaska territory, where she had suffered many cruelties, fled from her oppressors last summer, and, though ill at the time, took to the sea in a canoe all alone, and determined to reached Metlakahtla or perish in the attempt. On her way (and she had upwards of one hundred and fifty miles to travel), she was seen and taken by a party of Port Simpson Indians, who would no doubt have been glad to hand her back to her pursuers for gain, but on hearing of her case, I demanded her freedom, and finally she was received into a Christian family here, and tenderly cared for. Both the man and his wife who received her into their home had themselves been slaves years ago. They understood her language, sympathised deeply with her, and laboured hard to impart to her the knowledge of the Saviour of sinners. After about three months her cruel master with his party came here to recapture her, but they had to return home unsuccessful. In three months more her strength succumbed to the disease which had been brought on her by cruelty and hardship. She was a great sufferer during the last few weeks of her life, but she died expressing her faith in the Saviour, and rejoicing that she had been led here to end her days."
Once during the twenty-three years which have passed away since the North Pacific Mission, as it is now called, was begun, has Mr. Duncan come back to his mother country; and this visit may most conveniently be noticed now. He was only absent a year. He left Metlakahtla, took the long journey home, stayed six months, and went all the way back again to Victoria, within the year 1870. During his brief stay in England, he chiefly occupied his time in learning various trades, and purchasing machinery, etc., for the settlement. He went to Yarmouth purposely to learn rope-making and twine-spinning; at another place he acquired the art of weaving: at a third, that of brush-making; at a fourth, "the gamut of each instrument in a band of twenty-one instruments." On his way back he stayed two or three months at Victoria, arranging with the Government for the allotment of reserve lands to the Indians of the settlement, which they might clear, enclose, and cultivate for themselves. The Governor entered warmly into his plans, and presented $500 himself to the Mission, to be laid out in village improvements. At length he set sail again, and on February 27th, 1871, landed once more at Metlakahtla. His reception must be related in his own words.—
"The steamer in which I was conveyed over the last 600 miles of my journey had on board a crowd of miners, bound for the newly-discovered gold-fields of Omineca, in the interior of British Columbia. These had to be landed at the mouth of the Skeena River, about ten miles before we came to Metlakahtla. It was Sunday afternoon when we arrived at the landing, and though the weather was very stormy—snowing and blowing hard—yet I could scarcely restrain myself from attempting to finish the remaining ten miles of my voyage in a canoe, and thus take my people by surprise, and be able to join them in their evening service. After due reflection, however, I decided to remain in the steamer, and go in her to Metlakahtla on the morrow. In the meantime, the news of my arrival travelled to Metlakahtla, and on the following morning a large canoe arrived from thence to fetch me home. The happy crew, whose hearts seemed brim full of joy at seeing me back, gave me a very warm welcome. I at once decided to leave my luggage and the steamer, and proceed at once to Metlakahtla with my Indian friends, who assured me that the village was in a great state of excitement at the prospect of my return. We were favoured with a strong, fair wind, and with two sails up we dashed along merrily through a boiling sea. I now felt I was indeed homeward bound. My happy friends, having nothing to do but to watch the sails and sit still, could give free vent to their long pent-up feelings, and so they poured out one piece of news after another in rapid succession, and without any regard to order, or the changes their reports produced upon my feelings: thus we had good and bad, solemn and frivolous news, all mixed indiscriminately.
"On sighting the village, in accordance with a preconcerted arrangement, a flag was hoisted over our canoe, as a signal to the villagers that I was on board. Very soon we could discern quite a number of flags flying over the village, and the Indians hurrying towards the place of landing. Before we reached the beach large crowds had assembled to greet me. On my stepping out of the canoe, bang went a cannon, and when fairly on my feet bang went another. Then some of the principal people stepped away from the groups, and came forward, hats off, and saluted me very warmly. On my advancing, the corps of constables discharged their muskets, then all hats were doffed, and a general rush to seize my hand ensued. I was now hemmed in with the crowds of solemn faces, many exhibiting intense emotion, and eyes glistening with tears of joy. In struggling my way to the Mission house, I had nearly overlooked the schoolchildren. The dear little ones had been posted in order on one side, and were all standing in mute expectation of a recognition. I patted a few on the head, and then with feelings almost overcome, I pressed my way to my house. How sweet it was to find myself again in my own little room, and sweeter still to thank God for all His preserving care over me. As numbers of the people were pressing into and crowding my house, I ordered the church bell to be rung. At once they hurried to the church, and when I entered it was full. Such a sight! After a few minutes silence we joined in thanksgiving to God, after which I addressed the assembly for about twenty minutes. This concluded, I set off, accompanied by several leading Christian men to visit the sick and the very aged, whom I was told were anxiously begging to see me. The scenes that followed were very affecting. Many assured me that they had constantly prayed to God to be spared to see me once again, and God had answered their prayers and revived their hearts, after much weeping. On finishing my visit I made up doses of medicine for several of the sick, and then sat down for a little refreshment. Again my house becoming crowded, I sat down with about fifty for a general talk. I gave them the special messages from Christian friends which I had down in my note book, told them how much we were prayed for by many Christians in England, and scanned over the principal events of my voyage and doings in England. We sat till midnight, but even then the village was lighted up, and the people all waiting to hear from the favoured fifty what I had communicated. Many did not go to bed at all, but sat up all night talking over what they had heard.