Two months in the camp of Big Bear

T >> Theresa Gowanlock and Theresa Delaney >> Two months in the camp of Big Bear

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Up to the 30th of March, 1885, we had not the faintest idea that a
rebellion existed, nor that half-breeds and Indians were in open
revolt. On that day we received two letters, one from Captain Dickens,
of Fort Pitt, and one from Mr. Rae, of Battleford. Mr. Dickens' letter
was asking all the whites to go down to Fort Pitt for safety as we
could not trust the Indians; and Mr. Rae's letter informed us of the
"Duck Lake" battle and asking us to keep the' Indians up there and not
let them down to join Poundmaker. When we were informed of the great
trouble that was taking place, Mr. and Mrs. Gowanlock were apprised of
the fact and they came up to our place for safety. My husband had no
fear for himself, but he had slight misgivings as to poor Mr. Quinn's
situation. Mr. Quinn was the agent in that district and was a Sioux
half-breed. Johnny Pritchard, his interpreter, was a Cree half-breed.
My husband decided at once not to go to Fort Pitt. It would be a shame
for us, he thought, to run away and leave all the Government
provisions, horses, &c., at the mercy of those who would certainly
take and squander them, moreover he feared nothing from the Indians.
His own band were perfectly friendly and good--and not ten days
previous, Big Bear had given him a peace-pipe or _calumet_, and
told him that he was beloved by all the band.

However, knowing the Indian character so well, and being aware that
the more you seemed to confide in them the more you were liked by
them, he and Mr. Quinn concluded to hold a council with the chiefs and
inform them of the news from Duck Lake, impressing upon them the
necessity of being good and of doing their work, and not minding those
troublesome characters that were only bringing misery upon themselves.

Consequently, on the first of April, the council was held, but to
their great astonishment and dismay, the Indians knew more than they
did about the affair, and, in fact, the Indians knew all about the
troubles, long before news ever reached us, at Frog Lake, of the
outbreak. At the council were "Aimasis" (The King-bird), one of Big
Bear's sons and "The Wandering Spirit." They said that Big Bear had a
bad name, but now that he had a chance he would show himself to be the
whiteman's friend. All day, the 1st of April, they talked and held
council, and finally the Indians went home, after shaking hands with
my husband. They then told him that the half-breeds intended to come
our way to join Riel! that they also intended to steal our horses, but
that we need not fear as they (the Indians) would protect us and make
sure no horses would be taken and no harm would be done. They also
told us to sleep quiet and contented as they would be up all night and
would watch. Big Bear, himself, was away upon a hunt and only got to
the camp that night, we did not see him until next morning. During
that day, the Indians, without an exception, asked for potatoes and of
course they got them. They said we did not need so much potatoes and
they would be a treat for them as they meant to make a big feast that
night and have a dance.

Now as to their statement about the half-breeds coming to take horses
or anything else we did not know whether to believe them or not. Of
course it would never do to pretend to disbelieve them. However, the
shadow of a doubt hung over each of us. We knew that the Indians had a
better knowledge of all that was taking place than we had, and since
they knew so much about the troubles, it looked probable enough that
they should know what movements the half-breeds were to make. And
moreover, they seemed so friendly, so good-spirited and in fact so
free from any appearance of being in bad humor, that it would require
a very incredulous character not to put faith in their word.

But on the other hand it seemed strange, that, if they knew so much
about our danger, they never even hinted it to us until our men first
spoke of it to them. However, be these things as they may, we felt
secure and still something told us that all was not well: often to
others as well as to Campbell's wizard,

"The sun set of life, gives them mystical lore--
And coming events cast their shadows before."

Thus we parted on the night of the first of April, and all retired to
bed, to rest, to dream. Little did some amongst us that it was to be
their last sleep, their last rest upon imagine earth, and that before
another sun would set, they would be "sleeping the sleep that knows no
waking"--resting the great eternal rest from which they will not be
disturbed until the trumpet summons the countless millions from the
tomb. Secure as we felt ourselves, we did not dream of the deep
treachery and wicked guile that prompted those men to deceive their
victims. The soldier may lie down calmly to sleep before the day of
battle, but I doubt if we could have reposed in such tranquility if
the vision of the morrow's tragedy had flashed across our dreams. It
is indeed better that we know not the hour, nor the place! And again,
is it not well that we should ever be prepared, so that no matter how
or when the angel of death may strike, we are ready to meet the
inevitable and learn "the great Secret of Life and Death!"

At about half past-four on the morning of the second of April, before
we were out of bed, Johnny Pritchard and Aimasis came to our house and
informed my husband that the horses had been stolen by the half-
breeds. This was the first moment that a real suspicion came upon our
mind. Aimasis protested that he was so sorry. He said that no one,
except himself and men, were to blame. He said dial they danced nearly
all night and when it got on towards morning that all fell asleep, and
that the half-breeds must have been upon the watch, for it was then
that they came and stole the horses. The two then left us and we got
up. About an hour after, Aimises came back and told us not to mind the
horses, as they would go and hunt for them and bring them back.

I since found out, that as the horses were only two miles away in the
woods, they feared that my husband might go and find them himself and
that their trick would be discovered. It is hard to say how far they
intended, at that time, to go on with the bad work they had commenced.

In about half an hour some twenty Indians came to the house, Big Bear
was not with them, nor had they on war-paint, and they asked for our
guns, that is my husband's and Mr. Quinn's. They said they were short
of firearms and that they wished to defend us against the half-breeds.
No matter what our inclinations or misgivings might then be, we could
not however refuse the arms. They seemed quite pleased and went away.
An hour had scarcely elapsed when over thirty Indians painted in the
most fantastic and hedious manner came in. Big Bear also came, but he
wore no war-paint. He placed himself behind my husband's chair. We
were all seated at the table taking our breakfast. The Indians told us
to eat plenty as we would not be hurt. They also ate plenty
themselves--some sitting, others standing, scattered here and there
through the room, devouring as if they had fasted for a month.

Big Bear then remarked to my husband that there would likely be some
shooting done, but for him not to fear, as the Indians considered him
as one of themselves. Before we had our meal finished Big Bear went
out. The others then asked us all to go up to the church with them. We
consequently went, Mr. and Mrs. Gowanlock, Mr. Dill, Mr. Williscraft,
my husband and myself.

When we arrived at the church the mass was nearly over. The Indians,
on entering, made quite a noise, and clatter. They would' not remove
their hats or head-dresses, they Would not shut the door, nor remain
silent, in fact, they did anything they considered provoking and ugly.
The good priest, the ill-fated Father Fafard, turned upon the altar,
and addressed them. He warned them of the danger of excitement and he
also forbade them to do any harm. He told them to go quietly away to
their camps and not disturb the happiness and peace of the community.
They seemed to pay but little attention to what they heard, but
continued the same tumult. Then Father Fafard took off his vestments
and cut short the mass, the last that he was destined ever to say upon
earth; the next sacrifice he would offer was to be his own life. He as
little dreamed as did some of the others that before many hours their
souls would be with God, and that their bodies would find a few days
sepulchre beneath that same church, whose burnt ruins would soon fall
upon their union in the clay.

The Indians told us that we must all go back to our place. We obeyed
and the priests came also. When we reached the house the Indians asked
for beef-cattle. My husband gave them two oxen. Some of the tribe went
out to kill the cattle. After about an hour's delay and talk, the
Indians told us to come to their camp so that we would all be together
and that they could aid us the better against the half-breeds. We
consequently started with them.

Up to this point, I might say, the Indians showed us no ill-will, but
continually harped upon the same chord, that they desired to defend
and to save us from the half-breeds. So far they got everything they
asked for, and even to the last of the cattle, my husband refused
nothing. We felt no dread of death at their hands, yet we knew that
they were excited and we could hot say what they might do if provoked.
We now believed that the story of the half-breeds was to deceive us
and throw us off our guard--and yet we did not suspect that they
meditated the foul deeds that darkened the morning of the second of
April, and that have left it a day unfortunately, but too memorable,
in the annals of Frog Lake history.

When I now look back over the events, I feel that we all took a proper
course, yet the most unfortunate one for those that are gone. We could
have no idea of the murderous intentions on the part of the Indians.
Some people living in our civilized country may remark, that it was
strange we did not notice the peculiar conduct of the Indians. But
those people know nothing either of the Indian character or habits. So
far from their manner seeming strange, or extraordinary, I might say,
that I have seen them dozens of times act more foolishly, ask more
silly questions and want more rediculous things--even appear more
excited. Only for the war-paint and what Big Bear had told us, we
would have had our fears completely lulled by the seemingly open and
friendly manner. I have heard it remarked that it is a wonder we did
not leave before the second of April and go to Fort Pitt; I repeat,
nothing at all appeared to us a sign of alarm, and even if we dreaded
the tragic scenes, my husband would not have gone. His post was at
home; he had no fear that the Indians would hurt him; he had always
treated them well and they often acknowledged it; he was an employee
of the Government and had a trust in hand; he would never have run
away and left the Government horses, cattle, stores, provisions,
goods, &c., to be divided and scattered amongst the bands, he even
said so before the council day. Had he ran away and saved his life, by
the act, I am certain he would be then blamed as a coward and one not
trustworthy nor faithful to his position. I could not well pass over
this part of our sad story without answering some of those comments
made by people, who, neither through experience nor any other means
could form an idea of the situation. It is easy for me to now sit down
and write out, if I choose, what ought to have been done; it is just
as easy for people safe in their own homes, far from the scene, to
talk, comment and tell how they would have acted and what they would
have done. But these people know no more about the situation or the
Indians, than I know about the Hindoos, their mode of life, or their
habits.

Before proceeding any further with my narrative--and I am now about to
approach the grand and awful scene of the tragedy--I will attempt, as
best I can, to describe the Indian war-paint--the costume, the head-
dress and attitudes. I imagined once that all the stories that
American novelists told us about the war-dance,--war-whoops,--war-
paint,--war-hatchet or tomahawk, were but fiction drawn from some too
lively imaginations. But I have seen them in reality, more fearful
than they have ever been described by the pen of novelist or pencil of
painter.

Firstly, the Indians adorn their heads with feathers, about six inches
in length and of every imaginable color. These they buy from the
Hudson Bay Company. Also it is from the Company they procure their
paints. An Indian, of certain bands, would prefer to go without food
than be deprived of the paint. Our Indians never painted, and in fact
Big Bear's band used to laugh at the Chippewans for their quiet
manners and strict observance of their religious duties. In fact these
latter were very good people and often their conduct would put to the
blush white people. They never would eat or even drink a cup of tea
without first saying a grace, and then, if only by a word,--thanking
God for what they received. But those that used the paint managed to
arrange their persons in the most abomonable and ghastly manner. With
the feathers, they mix porcupine quills and knit the whole into their
hair--then daub, their head with a species of white clay that is to be
found in their country. They wear no clothing except what they call
loin-cloth or breach-cloth, and when they, go on the war-path, just as
when they went to attack Fort Pitt, they are completely naked. Their
bodies are painted a bright yellow, over the forehead a deep green,
then streaks of yellow and black, blue and purple upon the eyelids and
nose. The streaks are a deep crimson, dotted with black, blue, or
green. In a word, they have every imaginable color. It is hard to form
an idea of how hedious they appear when the red, blue, green and
white feathers deck the head, the body a deep orange or bright yellow
and the features tatooed in all fantastic forms. No circus clown could
ever equal their ghostly decorations. When one sees, for the first
time, these horrid creatures, wild, savage, mad, whether in that war-
dance or to go on the war-path, it is sufficient to make the blood run
cold, to chill the senses, to unnerve the stoutest arm and strike
terror into the bravest heart.

Such was their appearance, each with a "greenary-yellowy" hue, that
one assumes when under the electric light, when we all started with
them for their camp. We were followed and surrounded by the Indians.
The two priests, Mr. and Mrs. Gowanlock, Mr. Gilchrist, Mr.
Williscraft, Mr. Dill, Mr. Gouin, Mr. Quinn, my husband and myself
formed the party of whites. My husband and I walked ahead. When we had
got about one acre from the house we heard shots, which we thought
were fired in the air. We paid little or no attention to them. I had
my husband by the arm. We were thus linked when old Mr. Williscraft
rushed past, bear-headed. I turned my head to see what was the cause
of his excitement, when I saw Mr. Gowanlock fall. I was about to speak
when I felt my husband's arm drop from mine--and he said, "I am shot
too." Just then the priests rushed up and Father Fafard was saying
something in French, which I could not catch. My husband staggered
over about twenty feet from me and then back again and fell down
beside me. I bent down and raised his head upon my lap. I think over
forty shots must have been fired, but I could not tell what side the
shot came from that hit my husband. I called Father Fafard and he came
over. He knelt down and asked my husband if he could say the
"confiteor." My husband said "yes" and then repeated the prayer from
end to end. As he finished the prayer, the priest said: "my poor
brother, I think you are safe with God," and as the words died upon
his lips he received his death-wound and fell prostrate across my
husband. I did not see who fired the shot. I only saw one shot fired;
I thought it was for myself but it was for my husband and it finished
him. In a couple of minutes an Indian, from the opposite side, ran up,
caught me by the wrist and told me to go with him. I refused, but I
saw another Indian shake his head at me and tell me to go on. He
dragged me by force away. I got one glance-the last-at my poor
husband's body and I was taken off. After we had gone a piece I, tried
to look back-but the Indian gave me a few shakes pretty roughly and
then dragged me through the creek up to my waist in water--then over a
path full of thorns and briars and finally flung me down in his tent.

I will not now stay to describe my feelings or attempt to give in
language, an idea of the million phantoms of dread and terror; memory
seemed but too keen, and only too vividly could I behold the
repetition of the scenes that had just passed before me. I stayed all
day in the tent. I had the hope that some one would buy me off. Yet
the hope was mingled with dispair. I thought if I could see Alec, one
of our own Indians, that he would buy me, but I could not find out
were he was. Towards evening I went to Johnny Pritchard's tent and
asked him to buy me. He said he had been trying all day but could not
succeed, however he expected to strike a bargain before night. He had
only one horse and the Indians wanted two horses for me. As good luck
would have it, he got Nolin--another half-breed--to give the second
horse. It was all they had and yet they willingly parted with that
_all,_ to save me from inhuman treatment, and even worse than a
hundred deaths. There was a slight relief in knowing that I was out of
the power of the painted devil that held me, since my husband's death.
But we were far from safe. Pritchard took me to his own tent, and
placed me with his wife and family. There I felt that if there existed
any chance of an escape at all I would be able to take advantage of
it. I fully trusted to Pritchard's manliness and good character, and I
was not deceived. He not only proved himself a sincere friend and a
brave fellow, but he acted the part of a perfect gentleman,
throughout, and stands, ever since, in my estimation the type of God's
noblest creatures--A TRULY GOOD MAN.

For three weeks I was watched, as a cat would watch a mouse. All night
long the Indians kept prowling about the tent, coming in, going out,
returning; they resembled, at times, a pack of wolves skulking around
their prey, and, at times, they appeared to resemble a herd of demons
as we see them represented in tho most extravagant of frightful
pictures. However, Pritchard spoke to them and their attentions became
less annoying. They may have watched as closely as ever and I think
they did, but they seldom came into my tent and when they did come in,
it was only for a moment. I slept in a sitting position and whenever I
would wake up, in a startled state from some fevered dream, I
invariably saw, at the tent door, a human eye riveted upon me.

Imagine yourself seated in a quiet room at night, and every time you
look at the door, which is slightly ajar, you catch the eye of a man
fixed upon you, and try then to form an idea of my feelings. I heard
that the human eye had power to subdue the most savage beast that
roams the woods; if so, there must be a great power in the organ of
vision; but I know of no object so awe-inspiring to look upon, as the
naked eye concentrated upon your features. Had we but the same
conception of that "all seeing eye," which we are told, continually
watches us, we would doubtlessly be wise and good; for if it inspired
us with a proportionate fear, we would possess what Solomon tells us
in the first step to wisdom--"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of
wisdom."

But I never could describe all the miseries I suffered during those
few weeks. I was two months in captivity; and eight days afterwards we
heard of Major-General Strange's arrival, I managed to escape. The
morning of our escape seemed to have been especially marked out by
providence for us. It was the first and only time the Indians were not
upon the close watch. Up to that day, we used to march from sunrise to
sunset, and all night long the Indians would dance. I cannot conceive
how human beings could march all day, as they did, and then dance the
wild, frantic dances that they kept up all night. Coming on grey dawn
they would tire out and take some repose. Every morning they would
tear down our tent to see if we were in it. But whether attracted by
the arrival of the soldiers--by the news of General Strange's
engagement--or whether they considered we did not meditate flight, I
cannot say--but most certainly they neglected their guard that day.

Some of them came in as usual, but we were making tea, and they went
off. As soon as the coast was clear we left our tea, and all, and we
departed. Maybe they did not know which way we went, or perhaps they
were too much engaged with their own immediate danger to make chase,
but be that as it may, we escaped. It was our last night under the
lynx-eyed watchers. We went about two miles in the woods, and there
hid. So far I had no covering for my head, and but scant raiment for
my body. The season was very cold in April and May, and many a time I
felt numb, chill, and sick, but there was no remedy for it; only "grin
and go through." In the last part of my captivity, I suffered from
exposure to the sun. The squaws took all my hats, and I could not get
anything to cover my head, except a blanket, and I would not dare to
put one on, as I knew not the moment we might fall in with the scouts;
and they might take me for a squaw. My shawl had become ribbons from
tearing through the bush, and towards the end I was not able to get
two rags of it to remain together. There is no possibility of giving
an idea of our sufferings. The physical pains, exposures, dangers,
colds, heats, sleepless nights, long marches, scant food, poor
raiment, &c., would be bad enough,--but we must not loose sight of the
mental anguish, that memory, only two faithful, would inflict upon us,
and the terror that alternate hope and despair would compel us to
undergo. I cannot say which was the worst. But when united, our sad
lives seemed to have passed beneath the darkest cloud that could
possibly hang over them.

When the Indians held their tea-dances or pow-wows in times of peace,
the squaws and children joined in, and it was a very amusing sight to
watch them. We often went three miles to look at a tea-dance, and I
found it as attractive and interesting as a big circus would be to the
children of a civilized place. But I had then no idea of the war-
dance. They differ in every respect. No fire-arms are used at the tea-
dance, and the guns and tomahawks and knives play the principal part
in the war dance. A huge fire throws its yellow, fitful light upon the
grim spectre-like objects that bound, leap, yell and howl, bend and
pass, aim their weapons, and using their tomahawks in a mimic warfare,
a hideous pantomine, around and across the blaze. Their gesticulations
summon up visions of murder, horror, scalps, bleeding and dangling at
their belts, human hearts and heads fixed upon their spears; their
yells resemble at times the long and distant howl of a pack of
famished wolves, when on the track of some hapless deer; and again
their cries, their forms, their actions, their very surroundings could
be compared to nothing else than some infernal scene, wherein the
demons are frantic with hell, inflamed passions. Each one might bear
Milton's description in his "Paradise Lost," of Death:

"The other shape--
If shape it might be called, that shape had none,
Distinguishable, in member, joint or limb:
* * * * *
black it stood as night.
Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as hell,
And shook a dreadful dart.--"

And the union of all such beings might also be described in the words
of the same author.

"The chief were those who from the pit of hell,
Roaming to seek their prey on earth, durst fix
Their seats; long after, next the seat of God,
Their altars, by his altar; gods adored
Among the nations round; and durst abide
Jehovah thundering out of Sion, throned
Between the cherubim; yea of 'en placed
Within his sanctuary itself their shrines,
Abominations: and with cursed things
His holy rites and solemn feasts profaned."

The scenes at the little church the morning of the second of April,-
the massacre of God's anointed priests, the desecration of the temple,
the robbery of the sacred vessels and ornaments, the burning of the
edifice-are not those the deeds of beings not human, but infernal? Is
the likeness too vivid or too true? But in the wild banquet of their
triumph, while still holding the sacred vessels, they were checked as
of old was Belshazzer. Those scenes shall never pass, from my memory,
with Freneau I can say

"And long shall timorous fancy see,
The painted chief, the pointed spear;
And reason's self shall bow the knee,
To shadows and delusions here"

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7