The Adventures of John Jewitt / Only Survivor of the Crew of the Ship Boston During a Captivity of Nearly Three Years Among the Indians of Nootka Sound in Vancouver Island

by John Rodgers Jewitt

It was now past midsummer, and the hopes we had indulged of our release became daily more faint, for though we had heard of no less than seven vessels on the coast, yet none appeared inclined to venture to Nootka.

The destruction of the Boston, the largest, strongest, and best equipped ship, with the most valuable cargo of any that had ever been fitted for the North-West trade, had inspired the commanders of others with a general dread of coming thither, lest they should share the same fate; and though in the letters I wrote (imploring those who should receive them to come to the relief of two unfortunate Christians who were suffering among heathen), I stated the cause of the Boston's capture, and that there was not the least danger in coming to Nootka, provided they would follow the directions I laid down, still I felt very little encouragement that any of these letters would come to hand; when, on the morning of the 19th of July, a day that will be ever held by me in grateful remembrance of the mercies of God, while I was employed with Thompson in forging daggers for the king, my ears were saluted with the joyful sound of three cannon, and the cries of the inhabitants, exclaiming "Weena, weena—Mamethlee!"—that is, "Strangers—White men!"

Soon after, several of our people came running into the house, to inform me that a vessel under full sail was coming into the harbour. Though my heart bounded with joy, I repressed my feelings, and, affecting to pay no attention to what was said, told Thompson to be on his guard, and not betray any joy, as our release, and perhaps our lives, depended on our conducting ourselves so as to induce the natives to suppose we were not very anxious to leave them. We continued our work as if nothing had happened, when, in a few minutes after, Maquina came in, and, seeing us at work, appeared much surprised, and asked me if did not know that a vessel had come.

I answered in a careless manner, that it was nothing to me. "How, John," said he, "you no glad go board?" I replied that I cared very little about it, as I had become reconciled to their manner of living, and had no wish to go away. He then told me that he had called a council of his people respecting us, and that we must leave off work and be present at it.

The men having assembled at Maquina's house, he asked them what was their opinion should be done with Thompson and myself, now a vessel had arrived, and whether he had not better go on board himself, to make a trade, and procure such articles as were wanted. Each one of the tribe who wished, gave his opinion. Some were for putting us to death, and pretending to the strangers that a different nation had cut off the Boston; while others, less barbarous, were for sending us fifteen or twenty miles back into the country, until the departure of the vessel.

These, however, were the sentiments of the common people, the chiefs opposing our being put to death, or injured, and several of them, among the most forward of whom were Yealthlower and the young chief Toowinnakinnish, were for immediately releasing us; but this, if he could avoid it, by no means appeared to accord with Maquina's wishes.

Having mentioned Toowinnakinnish, I shall briefly observe that he was a young man of about twenty-three years old, the only son of Toopeeshottee, the oldest and most respected chief of the tribe. His son had always been remarkably kind and friendly to me, and I had in return frequently made for him daggers, cheetolths, and other things, in my best manner. He was one of the handsomest men among them, very amiable, and much milder in his manners than any of the others, as well as neater both in his person and house, at least his apartment, without even excepting Maquina.

With regard, however, to Maquina's going on board the vessel, which he discovered a strong inclination to do, there was but one opinion, all remonstrating against it, telling him that the captain would kill him or keep him prisoner, in consequence of his having destroyed our ship. When Maquina had heard their opinions, he told them that he was not afraid of being hurt from going on board the vessel, but that he would, however, as it respected that, be guided by John, whom he had always found true. He then turned to me, and asked me if I thought there would be any danger in his going on board. I answered, that I was not surprised at the advice his people had given him, unacquainted as they were with the manners of the white men, and judging them by their own; but if they had been with them as much as I had, or even himself, they would think very different. That he had almost always experienced good and civil treatment from them, nor had he any reason to fear the contrary now, as they never attempted to harm those who did not injure them; and if he wished to go on board, he might do it, in my opinion, with security.

After reflecting a few moments, he said, with much apparent satisfaction, that if I would write a letter to the captain, telling him good of him, that he had treated Thompson and myself kindly since we had been with him, and to use him well, he would go.

It may easily be supposed that I felt much joy at this determination, but, knowing that the least incaution might annihilate all my hopes of escape, was careful not to manifest it, and to treat his going or staying as a matter perfectly indifferent to me. I told him that, if he wished me to write such a letter, I had no objection, as it was the truth, otherwise I could not have done it.