The regiment was quartered at Quebec during the summer. At this time, however, the 2nd Battalion of the 8th had arrived at Halifax from England, and I was ordered to join it on promotion, which I did, sailing on board a man-of-war in which I had been offered a passage. Soon afterwards I was placed with a detachment at Melville Island, in charge of French prisoners of war amongst whom I observed an intelligent young midshipman, who I regretted to find herded with the common sailors, and frequently had him to breakfast at my quarters, after which we used to practice the small sword exercise with foils, and became tolerably efficient. After some time I applied to the Admiral, Sir J. B. Warren, and obtained his parole, which the young scamp subsequently broke, and disappeared.
In the year 1811, the 2nd Battalion 8th was stationed at St. John’s, in the Province of New Brunswick, to which place, after marching through Nova Scotia, they crossed the Bay of Fundy. Here the tides rise forty feet, and enter a small gulf leading to the town of Windsor in the latter province, in the form of a bore, that is, suddenly, as a wall of water, nearly perpendicular, and eight or ten feet high.
During the year 1812 the Americans declared war against England, at Washington, having previously ordered their army on the frontier to invade Upper Canada, on the same day, being several days before the intelligence could be known at that place. They signally failed, however, in their first attacks. Reinforcements being urgently required, and the River St. Lawrence being frozen up for the season, the 2nd Battalion 8th was ordered to attempt the winter march on snow shoes to Quebec; generally through desert country, and partly through the enemy’s territory, and where no baggage animals could travel.
The march occupied forty-two days, with a day’s interval between each division or company. Fortunately, there had been just sufficient time to form two depôts of provisions on the line of march, thus making three stages of fourteen days each. On leaving each station officers and men alike had to carry on their backs fourteen days’ provisions, personal baggage, arms, &c., and frequently to march on snow shoes, which, without other encumbrances, is a labour to those unpractised. The camping at evening presented a novel scene. Huts were formed of poles covered with branches of spruce-fir, leaving the tops open for the smoke to escape. Large fires were kept up the whole length of the huts; poles being staked down at proper distances on each side, against which, the sleeping soldiers rested their feet—their couches being formed of layers of spruce boughs on the snow, which made capital elastic beds. The march was successful, having only lost one man from the fall of a tree, and fourteen men afterwards discharged disabled from being severely frost-bitten.
When the snow was deep it was necessary to march in Indian files, that is, only one man in front to tread down a path, the leading man falling in rear after fifteen or twenty paces, the next then leading, and so on in succession, the fatigue on snow shoes being great. Another rule was, that the last man of each division should be an officer, to keep up stragglers. There happened to be a long march of twenty-five miles across Lake Tamiskwata, next to the grand portage between that lake and the River St. Lawrence, when it was my turn to be the last man of my division. A violent snow-storm commenced early in the day, and after marching about eight miles, a man was seized with convulsions. What was to be done? The snow was drifting in eddies and circles, obliterating the path in front. No wood was accessible to light a fire, and the man must not be left behind. Fortunately, the party had with them an Indian contrivance, called a “tobaugan,” being a thin board twelve feet long turned up in front like a skate, used to relieve sick and weakly men of their loads. This was unpacked and the load distributed amongst those present; the sick man was covered with many blankets, tied on and dragged by the party, eight in number, in turns. Happily, they arrived safely at the end of their stage. My load on that day’s march was, besides my own luggage and provisions, a soldier’s knapsack and two muskets, my share of drawing the tobaugan, and marching on snow shoes. The division in front encountered great dangers in crossing the Grand Portage over a mountainous country; the snow drifting in circles, obliterating paths, and filling up deep hollows. Great risks arose from men lying down from fatigue, which required unwearied exertions on the part of the officers to prevent, to save them from perishing. After marching for twenty-two hours until daylight next morning, the division had only progressed eight miles, having been partially travelling in circles with the drifting snow.
The divisions struck the St. Lawrence ninety miles below Quebec, and the spontaneous kindness of the French Canadians could not have been exceeded. The carrioles, sleighs, and sledges of the whole district were assembled, and no man was suffered to march. They also fed the whole regiment during the route. On their arrival at Point Levi, opposite Quebec, where the river is over a mile wide, it was found that the ice had broken up and was floating down in great masses with a current of about six miles an hour. A number of large wooden canoes were collected, carrying about twenty men each, in the management of which the Canadians are very expert. After the men were seated the canoe was launched into open water, and the crew paddled away with all their might. When they encountered a large piece of ice they jumped out, and hauled up the canoe upon it, dragged it across, and launched it on the opposite side. This was rather a nervous operation, as the inclines, both in launching and hauling up, were very steep, and required holding on hard. This had to be repeated several times during the passage.
Early in the following spring the regiment embarked in steam-boats for Montreal. Shortly afterwards, a remarkable and most interesting ceremony took place there, at which I was present. The chiefs of about forty Indian nations, or tribes—some from the shores of the Pacific Ocean, distant about 4,000 miles—assembled at Government House for the purpose of holding a “talk” or council with the Governor-General, Sir George Prevost, and concluding a treaty with him—offensive and defensive. Each chief had been presented with a scarlet robe, and the scene was very imposing.
The chiefs, generally, were remarkably fine-looking men, their features Grecian, their carriage easy and graceful. Each chief, while addressing the Governor-General, held a “wampum” belt, handsomely embroidered with porcupine quills, and beads of various colours, which is their record of the treaty. When the recognised superior chief had concluded his speech he should have handed the “wampum” belt to the chief next in dignity of the Sioux tribe. It so happened, however, that he was passed over, and it was offered to him as the third speaker. He declined the honour in a most dignified and courteous manner, and would not deliver his address until after all the others had finished.
Their language was very poetical, figurative, and quite in the Ossian style, somewhat in the following manner:—
“Father, listen to your Red Children.