Nevertheless, Mackenzie now turned his attention toward this region, resolved to traverse and explore it till he should reach the Pacific. Moreover, he was confident of success, perhaps realizing his many qualifications for such an enterprise, and certainly encouraged by the remembrance of the difficulties he had overcome during his former voyage, in 1789, to the mouth of that great river which bears his name.
Leaving Fort Chipewyan on Lake Athabasca, he soon reached that great waterway, the Peace River, and with several canoes began to stem the moderate current of this stream, which is at this point about one fourth of a mile in width and quite deep.
The origin of names is always interesting, and that of the Peace River is said to be derived from a circumstance of Indian history. The tribe of Indians called the Knisteneux, who originally inhabited the Atlantic seaboard and the St. Lawrence valley, migrated in a northwesterly direction. In the course of this tribal movement, after reaching the centre of the continent, they at length came in contact with the Beaver Indians, and a neighboring tribe called the Slaves, at a point some fifty leagues due south from Lake Athabasca. The Knisteneux drove these tribes from their lands, the Slave Indians moving northward down the Slave River to Great Slave Lake, from which circumstance the lake derives its name. The term Slave was not applied to indicate servitude, but by way of reproach on their unusual barbarity and destitution. The Beaver Indians moved in another direction, more to the westward, and on the ratification of peace between them and the Knisteneux, the Peace River was assigned as the boundary between them.
After proceeding for three weeks up the Peace River, Mackenzie camped for the winter at a point previously decided on, and early in the following spring recommenced his “voyage,” as these inland water journeys are called. Mackenzie was accompanied by Alexander Mackay, one of the officers of the Northwest Company. The crew consisted of six Canadian voyageurs, and the party was completed by two Indians, who, it was intended, should act as interpreters and hunters. A single canoe, twenty-five feet long and not quite five feet in extreme breadth, served to carry the entire party, in addition to three thousand pounds of baggage and provisions.
It would be entirely aside from our purpose to narrate in detail the many interesting adventures and narrow escapes of the party. A single incident will serve to throw some light on the perils and toils that were encountered. At the time of the incident in question, they had crossed the watershed by following the south branch of the Peace River to its source, and were now descending a mad torrent which runs westward, and is tributary to the Fraser River, which latter Mackenzie mistook for the Columbia.
It was on the morning of the 13th of June, and the canoe had proceeded but a short distance, when it struck, and, turning sidewise, broke on a stone. Mackenzie and all the men jumped into the water at once, and endeavored to stop the canoe and turn it round. But almost immediately she was swept into deeper water, where it became necessary for everybody to scramble aboard with the greatest celerity. In this uncertain contest, one of the men was left in mid-stream to effect a passage to shore in the best way he could.
“We had hardly regained our situations,” writes Mackenzie, “when we drove against a rock, which shattered the stern of the canoe in such a manner that it held only by the gunwales, so that the steersman could no longer keep his place. The violence of this stroke drove us to the opposite side of the river, which is but narrow, when the bow met with the same fate as the stern. At this moment the foreman seized on some branches of a small tree, in the hope of bringing up the canoe, but such was their elasticity that, in a manner not easily described, he was jerked on shore in an instant, and with a degree of violence that threatened his destruction. But we had no time to turn from our own situation to inquire what had befallen him; for, in a few moments, we came across a cascade, which broke several large holes in the bottom of the canoe, and started all the bars, except one behind the scooping seat. If this accident, however, had not happened, the vessel must have been irretrievably overset. The wreck becoming flat on the water, we all jumped out, while the steersman, who had been compelled to abandon his place, and had not recovered from his fright, called out to his companions to save themselves. My peremptory commands superseded the effects of his fear, and they all held fast to the wreck; to which fortunate resolution we owed our safety, as we should otherwise have been dashed against the rocks by the force of the water, or driven over the cascades. In this condition we were forced several hundred yards, and every yard on the verge of destruction; but, at length, we most fortunately arrived in shallow water and a small eddy, where we were enabled to make a stand, from the weight of the canoe resting on the stones, rather than from any exertions of our exhausted strength. For, though our efforts were short, they were pushed to the utmost, as life or death depended on them.”
At this juncture, the Indians, instead of making any effort to assist the others, sat down and shed tears, though it is considered a mortal disgrace among Indians to weep except when intoxicated.
On the 22d of July, after encountering countless trials and the dangers of savage foes, no less than the obstacles of nature, Mackenzie reached an arm of the sea in latitude 52° 20′ 48″, where on a rocky cliff he inscribed this brief legend in vermilion: “Alexander Mackenzie from Canada by land, the 22d of July, one thousand seven hundred and ninety-three.”
The next day, when alone, he was nearly murdered by a band of Indians, but escaped by his agility and by a fortunate momentary hesitation on the part of the savages.