Upon our arriving, we found them to be a part of the Saskatchewan brigade, on its way to the common point of rendezvous, York Factory. It was in charge of two friends of mine; so I accosted them, without introducing myself, and chatted for some time about the occurrences of the voyage. They appeared a little disconcerted, however, and looked very earnestly at me two or three times. At last they confessed they had forgotten me altogether! And, indeed, it was no wonder, for the sun had burned me nearly as black as my Indian friends, while my dress consisted of a blue capote, sadly singed by the fire; a straw hat, whose shape, from exposure and bad usage, was utterly indescribable; a pair of corduroys, and Indian moccasins; which so metamorphosed me, that my friends, who perfectly recollected me the moment I mentioned my name, might have remained in ignorance to this day had I not enlightened them on the subject.
After supper one of these gentlemen offered me a share of his tent, and we turned in together, but not to sleep; for we continued gossiping till long after the noisy voices of the men had ceased to disturb the tranquillity of night.
At the first peep of day our ears were saluted with the usual unpleasant sound of “Lève! lève! lève!” issuing from the leathern throat of the guide. Now this same “Lève!” is in my ears a peculiarly harsh and disagreeable word, being associated with frosty mornings, uncomfortable beds, and getting up in the dark before half enough of sleep has been obtained. The way in which it is uttered, too, is particularly exasperating; and often, when partially awakened by a stump boring a hole in my side, have I listened with dread to hear the detested sound, and then, fancying it must surely be too early to rise, have fallen gently over on the other side, when a low muffled sound, as if some one were throwing off his blanket, would strike upon my ear, then a cough or grunt, and finally, as if from the bowels of the earth, a low and scarcely audible “Lève! lève!” would break the universal stillness—growing rapidly louder, “Lève! lève! lève!” and louder, “Lève! lève!” till at last a final stentorian “Lève! lève! lève!” brought the hateful sound to a close, and was succeeded by a confused collection of grunts, groans, coughs, grumbles, and sneezes from the unfortunate sleepers thus rudely roused from their slumbers. The disinclination to rise, however, was soon overcome; and up we got, merry as larks, the men loading their boats, while I and my Indians carried our luggage, etcetera, over the portage.
Our troubles now commenced: the longest and most difficult part of the route lay before us, and we prepared for a day of toil. Far as the eye could reach, the river was white with boiling rapids and foaming cascades, which, though small, were much too large to ascend, and consequently we were obliged to make portages at almost every two or three hundred yards. Rapid after rapid was surmounted; yet still, as we rounded every point and curve, rapids and falls rose, in apparently endless succession, before our wearied eyes. My Indians, however, knew exactly the number they had to ascend, so they set themselves manfully to the task. I could not help admiring the dexterous way in which they guided the canoe among the rapids. Upon arriving at one, the old Indian, who always sat in the bow (this being the principal seat in canoe travelling), rose up on his knees and stretched out his neck to take a look before commencing the attempt; and then, sinking down again, seized his paddle, and pointing significantly to the chaos of boiling waters that rushed swiftly past us (thus indicating the route he intended to pursue to his partner in the stern), dashed into the stream. At first we were borne down with the speed of lightning, while the water hissed and boiled to within an inch of the gunwale, and a person unaccustomed to such navigation would have thought it folly our attempting to ascend; but a second glance would prove that our Indians had not acted rashly. In the centre of the impetuous current a large rock rose above the surface, and from its lower end a long eddy ran like the tail of a comet for about twenty yards down the river. It was just opposite this rock that we entered the rapid, and paddled for it with all our might. The current, however, as I said before, swept us down; and when we got to the middle of the stream, we just reached the extreme point of the eddy, and after a few vigorous strokes of the paddles were floating quietly in the lee of the rock. We did not stay long, however—just long enough to look for another stone; and the old Indian soon pitched upon one a few yards higher up, but a good deal to one side; so, dipping our paddles once more, we pushed out into the stream again, and soon reached the second rock. In this way, yard by yard, did we ascend for miles, sometimes scarcely gaining a foot in a minute, and at others, as a favouring bay or curve presented a long piece of smooth water, advancing more rapidly. In fact, our progress could not be likened to anything more aptly than to the ascent of a salmon as he darts rapidly from eddy to eddy, taking advantage of every stone and hollow that he finds: and the simile may be still further carried out; for, as the salmon is sometimes driven back tail foremost in attempting to leap a fall, so were we, in a similar attempt, driven back by the overpowering force of the water.
It happened thus: We had surmounted a good many rapids, and made a few portages, when we arrived at a perpendicular fall of about two feet in height, but from the rapidity of the current it formed only a very steep shoot. Here the Indians paused to breathe, and seemed to doubt the possibility of ascent; however, after a little conversation on the subject, they determined to try it, and got out their poles for the purpose (poles being always used when the current is too strong for the paddles). We now made a dash, and turning the bow to the current, the Indians fixed their poles firmly in the ground, while the water rushed like a mill-race past us. They then pushed forward, one keeping his pole fixed, while the other refixed his a little more ahead. In this way we advanced inch by inch, and had almost got up—the water rushing past us in a thick, black body, hissing sharply in passing the side of our canoe, which trembled like a reed before the powerful current—when suddenly the pole of the Indian in the stern slipped; and almost before I knew what had happened, we were floating down the stream about a hundred yards below the fall. Fortunately the canoe went stern foremost, so that we got down in safety. Had it turned round even a little in its descent, it would have been rolled over and over like a cask. Our second attempt proved more successful; and after a good deal of straining and puffing we arrived at the top, where the sight of a longer stretch than usual of calm and placid water rewarded us for our exertions during the day.
In passing over a portage we met the English River brigade; and after a little conversation, we parted. The evening was deliciously cool and serene as we glided quietly up the now tranquil river. Numbers of little islets, covered to the very edge of the rippling water with luxuriant vegetation, rose like emeralds from the bosom of the broad river, shining brightly in the rays of the setting sun; sometimes so closely scattered as to veil the real size of the river, which, upon our again emerging from among them, burst upon our delighted vision a broad sheet of clear pellucid water, with beautiful fresh banks covered with foliage of every shade, from the dark and sombre pine to the light drooping willow; while near the shore a matronly-looking duck swam solemnly along, casting now and then a look of warning to a numerous family of little yellow ducklings that frisked and gambolled in very wantonness, as if they too enjoyed and appreciated the beauties of the scene. Through this terrestrial paradise we wended our way, till rapids again began to disturb the water, and a portage at last brought us to a stand. Here we found McNab, who had left York Factory three days before us with his brigade, just going to encamp; so we also brought up for the night. When supper was ready, I sent an invitation to McNab to come and sup with me, which he accepted, at the same time bringing his brother with him. The elder was a bluff, good-natured Red River settler, with whom I had become acquainted while in the colony; and we chatted of bygone times and mutual acquaintances over a cup of excellent tea, till long after the sun had gone down, leaving the blazing camp-fires to illuminate the scene.
Next morning we started at the same time with the boats; but our little canoe soon passed them in the rapids, and we saw no more of them. Our way was not now so much impeded by rapids as it had hitherto been; and by breakfast-time we had surmounted them all and arrived at the Dram-stone, where we put ashore for our morning meal. In the morning I shot a duck, being the first that had come within range since I left York Factory. Ducks were very scarce, and the few that we did see were generally accompanied by a numerous offspring not much bigger than the eggs which originally contained them. While taking breakfast we were surprised by hearing a quick rushing sound a little above us, and the next moment a light canoe came sweeping round a point and made towards us. It was one of those called “north canoes,” which are calculated to carry eight men as a crew, besides three passengers. The one now before us was built much the same as an Indian canoe, but somewhat neater, and ornamented with sundry ingenious devices painted in gaudy colours on the bows and stern. It was manned by eight men and apparently one passenger, to whom I hallooed once or twice; but they took me, no doubt, for an Indian, and so passed on without taking any notice of us. As the noble bark bounded quickly forward and was hid by intervening trees, I bent a look savouring slightly of contempt upon our little Indian canoe, and proceeded to finish breakfast.
A solitary north canoe, however, passing thus in silence, can give but a faint idea of the sensation felt on seeing a brigade of them arriving at a post after a long journey. It is then that they appear in wild perfection. The voyageurs upon such occasions are dressed in their best clothes; and gaudy feathers, ribbons, and tassels stream in abundance from their caps and garters. Painted gaily, and ranged side by side, like contending chargers, the light canoes skim swiftly over the water, bounding under the vigorous and rapid strokes of the small but numerous paddles, while the powerful voyageurs strain every muscle to urge them quickly on. And while yet in the distance, the beautifully simple and lively yet plaintive paddling song, so well suited to the surrounding scenery, and so different from any other air, breaks sweetly on the ear; and one reflects, with a kind of subdued and pleasing melancholy, how far the singers are from their native land, and how many long and weary days of danger and of toil will pass before they can rest once more in their Canadian homes. How strangely, too, upon their nearer approach, is this feeling changed for one of exultation, as the deep and manly voices swell in chorus over the placid waters, while a competition arises among them who shall first arrive; and the canoes dash over the water with arrow-speed to the very edge of the wharf, where they come suddenly, and as by magic, to a pause. This is effected by each man backing water with his utmost force; after which they roll their paddles on the gunwale simultaneously, enveloping themselves in a shower of spray as they shake the dripping water from the bright vermilion blades. Truly it is an animating, inspiriting scene, the arrival of a brigade of light canoes.
Our route now lay through a number of small lakes and rivers, with scarcely any current in them; so we proceeded happily on our way with the cheering prospect of uninterrupted travelling. We had crossed Swampy Lake, and, after making one or two insignificant portages, entered Knee Lake. This body of water obtained its name from turning at a sharp angle near its centre, and stretching out in an opposite direction from its preceding course; thus forming something like a knee. Late in the evening we encamped on one of the small islands with which it is here and there dotted. Nothing could exceed the beauty of the view we had of the lake from our encampment. Not a breath of wind stirred its glassy surface, which shone in the ruddy rays of the sun setting on its bosom in the distant horizon; and I sat long upon the rocks admiring the lovely scene, while one of my Indians filled the tea-kettle, and the other was busily engaged in skinning a minx for supper. Our evening meal was further enriched by the addition of a great many small gulls’ eggs, which we had found on an island during the day—which, saving one or two that showed evident symptoms of being far advanced towards birdhood, were excellent.
On the following morning the scene was entirely changed. Dark and lowering clouds flew across the sky, and the wind blew furiously, with a melancholy moaning sound, through the trees. The lake, which the night before had been so calm and tranquil, was now of a dark leaden hue, and covered with foaming waves. However, we determined to proceed, and launched our canoe accordingly; but soon finding the wind too strong for us, we put ashore on a small island and breakfasted. As the weather moderated after breakfast, we made another attempt to advance. Numerous islets studded the lake, and on one of them we landed to collect gulls’ eggs. Of these we found enough; but among them were a number of little yellow gulls, chattering vociferously, and in terrible consternation at our approach, while the old ones kept uttering the most plaintive cries overhead. The eggs were very small, being those of a small species of gull which frequents those inland lakes in great numbers. The wind again began to rise; and after a little consultation on the subject we landed, intending to spend the remainder of the day on shore.