One day, just at the beginning of winter, news was brought to the ship that fighting was going on among the miners and Indians at a camp near a small town called Yale. The Plumper had a steam-launch which was ordinarily used for river work, and an armed body of bluejackets under Lieutenant Mayne at once put off in a large pinnace for the spot—two miles higher up—where she was lying in dock, with the intention of hastening to the scene of the disturbance. To the young officer’s dismay, the launch had disappeared, and, on inquiry, he learned that Colonel Moody of the Engineers, who had been the first to hear the news, had immediately put off in her with twenty-five men and a howitzer. A mounted messenger was soon dispatched back to the harbour and, in half an hour, returned with orders from the Captain, for the firing-party to hurry after the soldiers and offer their services.
By nightfall the place was reached; a cheerless, rugged spot where the crew had some difficulty in landing. The pinnace was made fast to the launch, and, following the directions of the men who had been left in charge of her, the sailors marched quickly over a hill and were soon at the diggings.
“You’ve come too late,” were the Engineer officer’s first words. He pointed to a group of prisoners, Indian and white, who, under the guard of an armed picket, were making themselves comfortable for the night. “We’ve had a heavy day, though,” continued Colonel Moody; “and three of my fellows have been badly wounded. Your men pretty fresh, I suppose?”
“Quite, sir.”
“Give them half an hour for supper, and then I shall want you to march them about ten miles across country. I have guides ready for you. Come and have something to eat, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
The Colonel, a subaltern, and a regimental surgeon had established themselves in a miner’s hut, and here, over a very unconventional meal, Mayne learned what had happened. Scarcely had the soldiers put an end to the rioting, when six Chippewyan Indians had galloped into the camp. The miners at the next claim had fired on them, they said; had threatened to burn their winter fodder-stacks, and meant to drive them out of their old settlement.
“Of course, we’ve only heard one side,” concluded Colonel Moody. “Don’t trust your guides too far, Mr. Mayne. Let one of them keep his horse, in case you want to send me a message in a hurry, and make the other five march between your men; they can leave their horses here.” He turned to the surgeon. “You’d better go, too, Campbell; you may be wanted. They’ve a very good doctor here if we need him. Good-bye, and good luck to you both.”
The doctor buckled on his sword and Mayne collected the sailors, placing five of the Indians in the centre, 267 and all set off at a brisk step. The mounted redskin led them some miles along a curving valley and then across an open tract of country, whence they were soon able to see the lights from some settlement.
“Is that the place?” the lieutenant asked of a redskin who spoke intelligible English.