The route via the River St. John was used both in summer and winter. It is said that when the water was high the Indians were able to deliver letters from Quebec to the French commander at the mouth of the St. John in four or five days, a distance of 430 miles. This statement is made by John Allan and there is nothing impossible about it. The Messrs. Straton of Fredericton, some years since, paddled in a bark canoe from the Grand Falls to Fredericton, 133 miles, in 14 hours 46 minutes, making a short stop at Woodstock on the way. Short distances have been covered at much greater rates of speed. The Acadian couriers were usually a fortnight going from Oromocto to Quebec in the summer and about double that time in the winter.
Like others of their race the Indians of the St. John were fleet of foot and possessed of great endurance, qualities that are by no means wanting in their descendants. Some forty years ago a Maliseet Indian, named Peter Loler, gave a remarkable exhibition of speed and endurance, which is still talked of by the older residents of Woodstock. The circumstances, briefly stated, were these. One pleasant 297 summer morning Loler presented himself to the driver of the old four-in-hand stage coach which was just about leaving the hotel at Fredericton for Woodstock, the distance being rather more than sixty miles. The Indian desired a passage and offered the customary fare. The driver on the occasion was John Turner, one of the most accomplished whips of the old stage coaching days, and popular with all travellers. As the stage coach was pretty full and the day promised to be very warm Turner, after a brief consultation with the passengers, declined the Indian’s money and upon Loler’s remonstrating, told him in plain Saxon that the other passengers didn’t like the smell of him, that his room was better than his company. This angered Peter and he said, “All right, John! Me be in Woodstock first!”
At 8 o’clock, a. m., Indian and stage coach left Fredericton together, and together they proceeded and in spite of Turner’s endeavor to throw dust in the Indian’s face the latter was always a little in advance. He stopped at every place the stage stopped to change horses (this occurred four or five times on the route) and took his dinner with all the solemnity of his race in the kitchen of the “Half-way House” where the passengers dined.
As they drew near their destination the Indian’s savage nature seemed to assert itself; he ran like a deer, waving his cap at intervals as he passed the farm houses, and shouting defiantly. Turner now began to ply the whip, for he had no intention of allowing the red-skin to beat him out. The passengers began to wager their money on the result of the race and grew wild with excitement. The Indian village, three miles below Woodstock, was passed with Loler fifty yards in advance, but the village was not Peter’s destination that day. He saluted it with a war-whoop and hurried on. It was still early in the afternoon when the quiet citizens of Woodstock were aroused in a manner entirely unexpected. The stage coach came tearing into town at the heels of an Indian who was yelling like a demon and running as for his life, John Turner plying the whip in lively fashion, and four very hot and tired horses galloping at their utmost speed. The finish was a close one, but the Indian was ahead. As soon as he had regained his breath sufficiently to speak, Loler walked over to where Turner was standing and philosophically remarked, “John! me here first!” Turner’s answer is not recorded.
Our story should end here, but alas for poor human nature, it remains to be told that the Indian was soon surrounded by a crowd of friendly admirers, and before the close of the day was gloriously—or shall we say ingloriously—drunk.
From the year 1779 onward the cutting of masts for the navy became an industry of growing importance on the River St. John and Col. Francklin’s efforts were largely directed to the protection of the workmen so employed from being molested by the Indians. The consideration of the “masting” industry will be taken up in the next chapter.
Michael Francklin died Nov. 8, 1782, deeply lamented by all classes of society. His last general conference with the Maliseets was at Oromocto in the month of November, 1781, when he distributed presents to nearly four hundred Indians who had assembled there. On this occasion he settled amicably some jealousies that had 298 arisen about the election of chiefs. He tells us that the Indians were eager to go to the defence of the block house on the occasion of a recent alarm, that they were grateful for the continuance of their missionary Bourg and were resolved to again plant corn on the river. At the close of the conference they quietly dispersed to their hunting.
In spite of the interference of war the traffic in furs with the Indians was still very considerable, and about this time Hazen and White sent a consignment to Halifax in the ship Recovery, to be shipped to England for sale, which included 571 Moose skins, 11 Caribou, 11 Deer, 3621 Musquash, 61 Otter, 77 Mink, 152 Sable, 40 Fishers, 6 Wolverene, 11 “Lucervers,” 17 Red Fox, 6 Cross Fox, 9 Bear.
Michael Francklin continued to the last to cultivate the friendship of Pierre Thoma the old Maliseet chieftain whose descendants, it may be observed, are numerous at the present day. The name of this well known Indian family (variously spelled Thoma, Toma, Tomah, Tomer) is clearly of French origin, and was originally Thomas, which pronounced in French fashion sounds like Tomah. The name Pierre Thoma was very common among both the Micmacs and the Maliseets, so common indeed as to make it difficult to distinguish between individuals. A few observations will enable the reader to see what splendid opportunities there are for confusion with regard to those Indians who bore the name of Pierre Thoma.
In the month of August, 1827, the Lieut.-Governor of New Brunswick, Sir Howard Douglas, visited the historic Indian village of Medoctec, where he was introduced to an Indian name Pierre Thoma (or Toma Pierre) aged 93 years. The old warrior, who had lost an eye and an arm in the battle of the Heights of Abraham in 1759, was carefully provided for by the kindly hearted governor. Our first conclusion naturally would be—this is the old chieftain of Revolutionary days. But further investigation shows such a conclusion to be very improbable. If old Tomah, who greeted Sir Howard Douglas, were 93 years old in 1827, he must have been born in 1734, and in that case (supposing him to have been Francklin’s old ally) he would have filled the office of supreme sachem or head chief of the St. John river when about thirty years of age, which is very unlikely. But this is not all. In the sworn testimony submitted to the commissioners on the international boundary in 1797, John Curry, Esq., of Charlotte County says that when he came to the country in 1770 there was an Indian place of worship and a burial ground on St. Andrew’s Point at the mouth of the River St. Croix, and that among those whom he recollected to have been buried there were John Neptune (alias Bungawarrawit), governor of the Passamaquoddy tribe, and a “chief of the Saint John’s Tribe known by the name of Pierre Toma.” There can be little doubt that the latter was our old chief Thoma. His wife was one of the Neptune family whose home was at Passamaquoddy. The burial ground at St. Andrew’s Point was abandoned by the Indians when the Loyalists settled at St. Andrews in 1783. We may therefore conclude that Pierre Thoma did not long survive his old friend and Patron Michael Francklin. Their acquaintance began as early at least as the summer of 1768, when Governor Thoma and Ambroise St. Aubin had an interview with Lieut.-Governor Francklin and his council at Halifax. At that time the chiefs made a favorable 299 impression. They requested that their missionary Bailly, lately arrived might remain with them, complained that rum was much too common for the good of their people, desired lands for cultivation and that their hunting grounds should be reserved to them. Having completed their business they stated “We have nothing further to ask or represent, and we desire to return soon, that our people may not be debauched with liquor in this town.”