Adventures Among the Red Indians
by Sidney Harry Wright · English · Gutenberg #34675 · 542,104 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Adventures Among the Red Indians
Author: Sidney Harry Wright
Release date: December 16, 2010 [eBook #34675]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/34675
Credits: Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Dan Horwood and the
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES AMONG THE RED INDIANS ***
Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Dan Horwood and the
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[Illustration: A STARTLING EXPERIENCE
The world seemed to turn over and slip from under him, his head struck
the gunwale smartly, and he gradually got a dim notion that he was
standing with his back against something hard, and his body at right
angles to that of the Indian in the bows.]
* * * * *
ADVENTURES
AMONG
THE RED INDIANS
Romantic Incidents and Perils
Amongst the Indians of
North and South America
by
H. W. G. HYRST
Author Of
"Adventures in the Great Forests,"
"Adventures in the Arctic Regions"
&c. &c.
With Sixteen Illustrations
LONDON
SEELEY AND CO. LIMITED
38 GREAT RUSSELL STREET
1911
* * * * *
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
THE LIBRARY OF ADVENTURE
_Extra Crown 8vo. With many Illustrations. 5/- each_
"Delightful books of adventure, beautifully printed and tastefully got
up."--_Educational Times._
"Boy readers will find a kaleidoscope of brilliant and picturesque
scenes from all lands collected for their benefit."--_Spectator._
ADVENTURES ON THE HIGH MOUNTAINS
by RICHARD STEAD, B.A. F.R.HIST.SOC.
_With Sixteen Illustrations_
"Deeds of heroism and daring fill these lively pages."--_Globe_
ADVENTURES IN THE GREAT FORESTS
by H. W. G. HYRST
_With Sixteen Illustrations_
"The kind of book a healthy English boy will delight in."--_Country
Life_
ADVENTURES ON THE HIGH SEAS
by RICHARD STEAD
_With Sixteen Illustrations_
ADVENTURES IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS
by H. W. G. HYRST
_With Sixteen Illustrations_
ADVENTURES IN THE GREAT DESERTS
by H. W. G. HYRST
_With Sixteen Illustrations_
"As stirring as any story of fictitious adventure."--_Glasgow
Herald_
ADVENTURES ON THE GREAT RIVERS
by RICHARD STEAD
_With Sixteen Illustrations_
"Thrilling stories-plentifully illustrated."--_Globe_
ADVENTURES AMONG WILD BEASTS
by H. W. G. HYRST
_With Twenty-four Illustrations_
ADVENTURES AMONG THE RED INDIANS
by H. W. G. HYRST
_With Sixteen Illustrations_
SEELEY & COMPANY LIMITED
PREFACE
These pages describe the adventures of men whom duty or inclination
has brought into contact with the Indians of the entire American
continent; and, since every day sees the red race diminishing,
or abandoning the customs and mode of life once characteristic of
it, such adventures must necessarily relate mainly to a bygone
generation.
To-day the Indians form a bare sixtieth of the American population, a
falling off for which the colonist has been responsible both actively
and involuntarily. The history of the red man's relations to those who
ultimately were to be his rulers is a painful one; massacres and
cruelties on the one side led to reprisals of a similar nature on the
other. Happily the days of persecution and revolt are now ended; some
few of the natives have intermarried with whites and have adapted
themselves to the conditions of modern civilisation; others have
settled down to an inoffensive and gypsy-like life on reserves granted
by the white governments. Meanwhile the whole race--particularly in
the north--continues to diminish. It is not improbable that in the
days of Cortez and Pizarro the Indians were already a dying people;
and that collision with the white invaders only hastened their demise.
The result of this collision is melancholy, and the author of
"Westward Ho!" has put it all into a nutshell. "The mind of the
savage, crushed by the sight of the white man's superior skill, and
wealth, and wisdom, loses at first its self-respect, while his body,
pampered with easily-obtained luxuries, instead of having to win the
necessaries of life by heavy toil, loses its self-helpfulness; and
with self-respect and self-help vanish all the savage virtues."
Bishop Bompas, who spent his life among the Indians of the far
north, says, "the whole of the Tenni race seem to be of a sickly
habit, and are dwindling in numbers. They are not much addicted to
ardent spirits, nor are these now supplied to them, but they have
an inveterate propensity to gamble. Though almost wholly free from
crimes of violence, and not much inclined to thieve, yet heathen
habits still cling to them, and they exhibit the usual Indian
deficiency in a want of stability and firmness of character.... In
sickness the Indians are very pitiful. They soon lose heart, and seem
to die more fro despondency than disease. The constant removals are
trying to the weak and infirm, and in times of distress those who
cannot follow the band are left behind to perish.... The old women
employ themselves in twisting grass or roots or sinew into twine for
sewing or fishing-nets. The men and boys are often busied in shaping
bows, arrows, snowshoes, and sledges.... Their capacity for
civilisation is very limited; none become business men."
CONTENTS
page
CHAPTER I
CHEROKEE WARFARE
Indian insurgents and their rifles--The rising of 1793--March
of Lieutenants Lowry and Boyd--The Indian attack--Sergeant
Munson--Saving an officer's life--Walking into the battle
instead of out of it--The third Indian contingent--Munson
wounded--Prisoners--Taken through the forest--The camp on
Lake Erie--The chief's sentence--Slavery!--Plans for
flight--Munson's escape by water--The Cherokee canoemen 17
CHAPTER II
THE INVASION OF CORRIENTES
Southern Indians as soldiers--Andresito Artegas--The war of
1818-20--An awkward time for British residents--The panic
in Corrientes--The march of the Indian army--A magnanimous
chief--Mr. Postlethwaite--Hindrances to good fellowship--A
quaint vengeance--Schemes for flight--Andresito as a
guest--A Peruvian blackguard--Flight and pursuit--Running
for it--A ship in sight--The last struggle for liberty 32
CHAPTER III
A CAPTIVE AMONG ARGENTINE INDIANS
The Guaranian Family--A story of Don Pedro Campbell--Indians
in pursuit--Ascencion and her sister captured--Taken
to the _tolderia_--"The Cordoban soldiers are
coming!"--Escape of the Indians--The two girls made
slaves--Murder of a young Spaniard--An evening alarm--The
Macabis--The battle--Ascencion's sister killed--Another
flight--A strange ship in the river--The Portuguese
commander--Peter Campbell as rescuer--The Indians
subdued--Punishing a would-be assassin 44
CHAPTER IV
THE IROQUOIS OF THE CANADIAN BOUNDARY
The Iroquoian family--Surgeon Bigsby--Coasting on Lake
Ontario--A strange reception--Saluting "royalty"--Landing
in the Indian village--The chief's remarkable speech--The
excitement that a red tunic may cause--The old chief's
generosity--Further popularity for the doctor--The
chief's dinner-party--Farewell gifts--The next
halt--Troubles of a geologist--"Cesar Auguste"--An
unwelcome passenger--Getting rid of the half-breed 55
CHAPTER V
CREEK INDIANS AT PLAY
U.S. Government and Indians--Captain Basil Hall, R.N.--The
Creeks--A disappointment--The real Indians--A
well-timed visit--The local band--The eve of a great
festival--Dancing--Scarifying--The great day of the
year--The match-ground--Where are the players?--The
two teams--A discourteous commencement--Other
preliminaries--The ball-play begins--Some alterations
much needed--The end of the game 67
CHAPTER VI
WITH THE DELAWARES AND CREES
Sir George Head--Across Nova Scotia--Up the St. John
River--Indian salmon-spearing--A ducking for the
Major--A novel method of life-saving--The guides'
limit--A ferocious Cree--Engaging the new
guide--Irishwoman _versus_ Indian--The ride through
the pine-forest--Snow--Wolf-tracks--Provisions
short--The wolves' attack--Keeping the guide in
order--Trying to be wiser than an Indian--How to kill
wolves--The Indian camp--Dances 79
CHAPTER VII
AMONG THE FUEGIAN INDIANS
The Pesherahs of Tierra del Fuego--Admiral Fitzroy--Fuegians
as boat-thieves--Hostages--An experiment--Fitzroy's
second voyage--Met by the natives--Compliments and
curiosity--A puzzle--Indian vanity--Ashore
again--Hostile natives--"Yammerskooner"--An uncomfortable
plight for English sailors--A night among unpleasant
neighbours--Jemmy Button's meeting with his
relatives--Mr. Matthews's experiences--Jemmy again--Why
Jemmy stayed among his people 95
CHAPTER VIII
THE END OF THE “BLACK HAWK” WAR
What's in a name?--Black Hawk--The Treaty of 1804--How it was
kept--The Treaty of 1830--The beginning of the end--The
Illinois militia--Through Wisconsin--Cholera--General
Atkinson's march continued--The Bad Axe River--An
unlooked-for meeting--On board the _Warrior_--A
dialogue--A _mauvais quart d'heure_--The white men's
revenge--Fording the river, in pursuit--A brief
battle--The Sioux--Capture of Black Hawk--_Vae victis!_ 106
CHAPTER IX
PERUVIAN INDIANS
Lieutenant Smyth, R.N.--The H.M.S. _Samarang_ survey--A rash
offer--The Jevero Indians--The guides' opinion of their
employers--How the mountain Indians defy hunger--Coca
balls--A gruesome neighbourhood--_Alma perdida_--Up the
Huallaga River--Manatee hunters--Trouble caused by the
guides--Smyth's presence of mind 119
CHAPTER X
THE CARIBS OF GUATEMALA
John Lloyd Stephens--A delicate mission--Belize--Reception
by the British Commanding Officer--Up the river--A
genial Franciscan--Caught in the storm--A rude
awakening--"Squaring" the Caribs--Central
Guatemala--Agricultural Caribs--Hospitality--Catherwood
seized with fever--The Charge d'Affaires in a hole--The
native doctor to the rescue--Any port in a storm--A
miraculous cure--Caribs and Mestizo rebels--Joining
forces with the officers--The scuffle--The long mile back
to British soil--Safe over the boundary 128
CHAPTER XI
A PRINCE’S ADVENTURES IN BRAZIL
Prince Adalbert of Prussia--Journey across South America--No
guides--The Brazilian forest--A path discovered--Gathering
cherries--The mysterious Carib--The visit to the
village--The cacique's banquet--An unlooked-for
_taboo_--The bull-fight dance--Carib guides--The Amazon at
last--Indians among the trees and on the river--The party
captured by Guaranis--Taken before the cacique--Ransom--An
unexpected ally--The penitent Guaranis--A tapir hunt 140
CHAPTER XII
INDIAN WARFARE IN CALIFORNIA
Captain Wise, U.S.N.--Sent ashore at Monterey--The march of
the boat's crew--A Yankee trapper settlement--News of the
Apaches and Comanches--Indians in the pay of
Mexico--Preparing for an attack--The night
alarm--"Hy-yah!"--The four Comanches--The palaver--Trouble
ahead--The sudden volley--Pursuing the Apaches--Following
the trail--From the forest to the prairie--A dilemma--The
battle of the Indians--Capture of the fugitives--A
surprise 154
CHAPTER XIII
WITH THE AYMARAS AND MOXOS
Prevalence of Indian tribes in Bolivia--The Colla or Aymara
people--Hugh de Bonelli--The Aymaras as walkers--A walk
along Lake Titicaca--Seventy miles a day--The Moxos--A
glorious canoe-ride--Family parties of Indians on the
river--The gathering of the tribe--The cacique--The
start for the egg-hunt--Turtle "nests"--A large
family--Commencement of the digging--Five days' hard
work--Breaking the eggs--Procuring the oil 166
CHAPTER XIV
A SPORTING TRIP ACROSS THE PRAIRIES
The Hon. Henry Coke--Across the prairies--Bluffs--The
Crow guide--Brought to a full stop--Bison in
sight--Disappearance of the guide and some of the
baggage--Pursuing him--A hopeless chase in the dark--The
Indians' camp-fire--The Pawnees--Bargaining for a
prisoner's life--The new guides--Bison--Cautioning
the new hands--Some very risky hunting--Cut off from
the herd--Man down!--Attacked by an infuriated
bison--Saved by an Indian's presence of mind 175
CHAPTER XV
HOW THE YO-SEMITE VALLEY WAS DISCOVERED
The Sierra Nevada--The Snakes, or Shoshonees--San
Francisco--John Savage--Jose Jerez--Indian
dissatisfaction--Impressing the savages--Trouble
with drunken Indians--An anxious drive--Home
again--Boycott?--Terrible news--Attack on the
Frezno River store--The return--Indians kept at bay
by the diggers--An opportune arrival--A wife
stolen--Pursuit--Volunteers to the rescue--Guided
by prisoners--Found at last--The surrender in the
Yo-Semite Valley 189
CHAPTER XVI
AMONG THE NIQUIRANS AND APACHES
Julius Froebel--A hazardous project--A travelling Indian
tribe--A hot march--Niquiran hospitality--"El Dorado"--A
deserted village--The villagers' gold-mine--Froebel's
reception--The baskets and their contents--A very
ill-judged action--Flight--Froebel's wanderings--Ancient
ruins--A new occupation for the wanderer--The
Apaches--Firing on the Mexicans' camp--Pursuit through the
darkness--An unexpected arrest 204
CHAPTER XVII
ACROSS THE UNITED STATES IN A WAGGON
Mexican Boundary Commission--John Russell Bartlett--An
ethnologist's hunting-ground--Panic among horses
and teamsters--The cause--A remarkable sight--A
bison-surround--Wanton carnage--Approach of the
Missouris--The presents--The delicate part of the
bison--Grave warnings--Breakdown of the waggon--The
Apaches--"Mangus Colorado"--The attack on the inn--The
Apaches put to flight 216
CHAPTER XVIII
A JOURNEY TO THE GRAN CHACO
The Gran Chaco of Western Paraguay--Charles Blachford
Mansfield--Up the Para--The madman's cold
dip--Corrientes--Finding canoemen--The Indians--A
dangerous landing-place--Pitching the
camp--Supper--_Mate_--A jaguar--Game easily
obtained--Nearing Asuncion--An inexplicable scare--Hunting
on the Chaco 226
CHAPTER XIX
AMONG THE SERIS OF MEXICO
Gustav Ferdinand von Tempsky--A risky journey--A
tropical thunderstorm--A warm reception for the
travellers--Mistaken for Indians--The road to
Durango--"They have burnt another village!"--Dr.
Steel as leader--Von Tempsky's "capture"--The Mexican
lancers--A scraggy army--Tracking the redskins--
Sudden appearance of three hundred Indians--Working
with awkward tools--The fight--Reinforced by Yankees 239
CHAPTER XX
A HOLIDAY AMONG THE OJIBEWAS
The Algonquin family--Charles Richard Weld--A holiday tour in
Southern Canada--A coach ride over the prairie--Indian
bullies--Getting rid of them--A rattlesnake
hunt--Extraordinary method of snake-killing--Ojibewa
guides--Rapid-shooting without warning--English
strangers--Major Strickland's farm--Ojibewas as indoor and
outdoor servants--A great prong-buck hunt--Hunting methods
of the Ojibewas--The battue 252
CHAPTER XXI
CHIPPEWYANS AND COLUMBIAN GOLD-DIGGERS
The Columbian gold find of 1857--H.M.S. _Plumper's_
task--Lieut. Mayne, R.N.--The Yale rising--Up the Fraser
in a pinnace--Coming in at the end--The Indians'
complaint--Night march of the bluejackets--Excitement of
the Indian guides--Glee turned to fear--Reaching the scene
of disorder--The miners' outpost--An awful sight--Quelling
the mob--Struggle of the Indians to save their wigwams
from the rioters--Disarming the diggers--The Chippewyan
reinforcement--The lieutenant in an awkward dilemma--The
palaver--An anxious night 264
CHAPTER XXII
THE CHIPPEWYANS OF THE COLUMBIAN MOUNTAINS
John Keast Lord--Across the Columbian Coast
range--Disadvantage of an escort--Lord's best weapon of
defence--"Held up" by Indians--Between danger and
safety--The assailants become guides--Suspicions on both
sides--A night at the Indian camp--The Canadian's
discovery--Lord on his mettle--The escape--Indian notion
of keeping an oath--Signalling--The gorge--The ambush--The
truth 277
CHAPTER XXIII
TWO DAYS IN A MOHAWK VILLAGE
Johann Georg Kohl--The Quebec Mohawks--The Indian
village--Some of the villagers--Lodgings--The chief--His
recollections and his house--His sons--Supper--The evening
chat--Kohl a _persona grata_--A morning in the
forest--Lynx traps--"Scratching the Russian"--The black
bear--Native sport--Old and new customs--A betrothal.... 289
CHAPTER XXIV
CANADIAN LAKE AND RIVER INDIANS
The Athapascan family--The Chippewyans--Rev. C.
Colton--From New York to the Saskatchewan--A
curious demonstration--Making ready for the
Chippewyans--The steam-launch aground--Surrounded by
the canoes--"Sturgeons!"--Making the Indians pay the
piper--The Lake of the Woods--The Indian fur-traders'
camp--Bargaining--Chippewyan "lodges"--Start of the
canoe flotilla--Experiments--The strange river--Too
late to turn--Rapids--An awful fate ahead--The
canoemen's presence of mind--A way of escape--Scaling
the canon--Towing 302
CHAPTER XXV
A WALK ABOUT URUGUAY
Indians of Uruguay--Thomas Woodbine Hinchcliff--A
solitary walk--The mountain-forest--Lost--A very
remarkable bull--Sudden appearance of Indian
cattle-hunters--Lassoing--Breakfast with the
Indians--Riding, under difficulties--A critical
moment--Strange method of persuading a
horse--Thirst--Help in sight, but running away--The
Indian fellow-traveller--A surprise--Sticking up for
the Indian--What the vice-consul had to say 316
CHAPTER XXVI
THE EXPLORATION OF THE SALADO VALLEY
Thomas Hutchinson, F.R.S.--In Santa Fe--A fortunate
meeting--The steam-launch--Up the Salado--The Gaucho
farmstead--The Quiteno guide--His luggage--Warnings--Visit
from the "man-eaters"--The parley from the boat--Feeding
the savages--Their terror at sight of smoke--Fear of the
Quiteno--Men who have sunk to monkey level--Fish-bone
spears--A very indiscreet question--Getting rid of the
savages--Other Indians--Ostrich-hunting--The Quiteno's
contempt for the ox-waggon, and its remedy 328
CHAPTER XXVII
BUSINESS AND PLEASURE ON THE LLANOS
Venezuela--Don Ramon Paez--An extraordinary
commission--Looking for Indians--Finding them--Native
fishermen on the Orinoco--The _payara_ and the _caribe_--A
vicious fish--In search of the three thousand wild
horses--Business-like lassoing--The aide-de-camp's first
attempt--The struggle with a wild horse--The race--Rescued
by a Carib--Deer-hunting with masks 340
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
A Startling Experience Frontispiece
PAGE
A Gallant Rescue 20
A Narrow Escape 40
A Plucky Rescue 52
A Bully Well Served 64
A Game at Ball 76
The Snow-shoe Dance of the Red Indians 92
A Fierce Retort 126
Almost a Tragedy 186
Red Indian Attack on a Store 198
A Bison Surround 220
Stocking the Larder 234
A Primitive System of Telegraphy 286
A Novel Bridal Ceremony 298
An Arduous Task 312
Crane Stalking-Masks 346
ADVENTURES AMONG RED INDIANS
CHAPTER I
CHEROKEE WARFARE
It has been said by certain historians that, after the American War of
Independence, British agents were employed not only to poison the
minds of those Siouan and Iroquoian tribes that dwelt on the United
States side of the Boundary, but even to keep them supplied with
rifles and ammunition.
Be that as it may, it is certainly a fact that, in 1793, the Cherokee
and Seneca tribes of the Iroquois were not only at war with the Crows,
Iowas, etc., of the rival Sioux faction, but were turning their
mysteriously obtained rifles on the white people of the States; and
the celebrated General Wayne was sent into Ohio with a strong force of
cavalry and infantry to restore order. He pitched his camp near Fort
Jefferson, on Lake Erie, and having driven away the insurgents, sent a
hundred foot-soldiers, under Lieutenants Lowry and Boyd, across the
lake to a fort near Detroit, to bring back by road three hundred
horses and extra provisions, and, incidentally, to disarm any
quarrelsome redskins they might meet with.
The return march was destined to be a very unpleasant one. Large and
small bodies of the Indians whom Wayne had driven to the forests
persistently harried the column, flank and rear, firing from behind
rocks and among the trees, till, in a couple of days, the hundred men
had become only seventy, and many of the horses had escaped or been
stolen. At noon on the third day the men halted for dinner on a barren
tract between a range of hills and a thick forest; and, in order to
guard against a surprise, Lieutenant Boyd with twenty men was sent to
patrol the woods while the rest ate their meal in comfort. Half an
hour later, while Lieutenant Lowry was preparing to send another
twenty men to relieve the scouts, the report of a gun, followed
quickly by a dozen others, warned him that the day was not to be gone
through without further trouble.
[Illustration: A GALLANT RESCUE
Lieutenant Boyd had been sent with twenty men to patrol the wood while
the main body ate their meal. Presently shots were heard, and Sergeant
Munson was sent to bring back an immediate report. He found the
Lieutenant trying to bind his shattered leg. Shooting the foremost
redskin, the Sergeant mounted the officer on his back and, after several
narrow escapes, brought him into camp.]
Every soldier caught up his rifle and made ready to defend the horses
and stores which had been placed in the centre of the camp. Lowry
called a couple of sergeants to him and pointed to the new patrol.
"Take these to Mr. Boyd's assistance; and you, Munson" (to the younger
sergeant) "bring me back word of what is going on. Hark at that!" A
rapid, running fire was beginning, and above Boyd's voice, which was
shouting directions or encouragement to his men, there rose the truly
fearful war-whoop peculiar to the Cherokee Indians. "Hurry; off with
you! I've enough men here to guard the horses in case----"
The little squad plunged into the wood and made for the scene of
action, which could not be far away, judging by the distinctness of
the voices. They arrived after a minute's quick double, and the sight
that awaited them was not an encouraging one. Ten of their comrades
were already dead or dying; the rest were fighting desperately against
a score of Indians, most of whom were armed with rifles in addition to
their bows and hatchets, while, leaning back against a tree, and doing
his best to cheer on the survivors, sat Lieutenant Boyd, his shin-bone
shattered by a bullet.
The new-comers fired a volley; several Indians fell, and the rest were
speedily charged with fixed bayonets. Again came the horrible
war-whoop, this time from a second batch of Indians who either had
just arrived or had been in hiding, and these hastened to pour flight
after flight of arrows into the rescuers from behind.
Young Munson, who was now fighting on the right wing of the little
force, turned swiftly, and, firing off the charge which he had just
rammed down, shot the foremost of the bowmen. But, even as he started
to reload, he remembered his officer's command to return at once with
news; in the hurry and excitement of the last few minutes he had
forgotten all about it. He looked round for the quickest exit from the
wood, and, in so doing, caught sight of Boyd who, faint with the loss
of blood, had been feebly endeavouring to bandage his wound with a
handkerchief. The sergeant threw one more glance back at the soldiers;
many of them had already fallen before the Indian arrows, and the
rest, paying no attention to their new assailants, were pursuing
those who had guns. Then he turned again to the officer. To leave him
here was to abandon him to death, perhaps by torture.
"Can you get on my back, sir? he said hurriedly. Quick; the
redskins'll be on us in another minute. Here, give me a hold of your
pistol; I must leave my rifle unless you can carry it for me."
But the officer had scarcely strength enough to enable him to stand.
With difficulty Munson hauled him upright against the tree-trunk,
snatched up the pistol in case he should need it on the perilous
little journey which he was undertaking, and, hoisting Boyd on his
back, darted among the trees out of sight of the approaching Indians.
On every side of him shooting seemed to be going on; an arrow fell at
his very feet, and the next moment a stray musket-ball flattened
itself against the tree which he was passing. What he could not
understand was that, the nearer he came with his burden to the camp,
the louder and more frequent did the firing sound. Had his mates
already driven the enemy into the open?
A few steps more and he would be out of the wood. But what was all
this prancing and stamping? The horses could hardly have broken loose,
for, since his recent losses, Lowry had had them tethered in batches
whenever a halt of any length was made. The firing grew louder and
faster than ever, and all doubt in his mind was ended when he heard
the lieutenant's voice ordering the men to charge.
While the two bodies of Indians worked such fearful havoc among the
patrols, a third and stronger party--fifty in number, and many of
them mounted--had worked round to the open and were attacking the
remainder of the company with tomahawks and spears. The horses, many
of them already liberated by the savages, were plunging and screaming.
Lowry, who had leapt on to the back of one of them, was cutting right
and left with his sword at the mounted Indians, while his men, though
they fought furiously, were retreating rather than charging, for these
Cherokee redskins, unlike the timid, treacherous bullies of the
southern and western tribes, knew no such thing as fear; moreover, in
addition to their unquestioned bravery, they often displayed, in their
warfare, an amount of forethought and method that would not have
discredited a white regiment.
Naturally, Munson's first care was to get rid of his burden; and he
resolutely turned his back on the fighting and made for the little
tent that had been hastily rigged up for the two officers when the
company halted. Depositing the wounded man here, he snatched up a
rifle and hurried breathlessly back to take part in the fray, which
was but a small part, for, all in a moment, a spear, thrown with
terrific force, struck him in the shoulder and he dropped to the
ground, striking his head on a boulder so violently that he lost
consciousness.
When he recovered himself, some Indians were bending over him, and one
of them asked him, by signs, if he could stand. He contrived to
stagger to his feet; then, finding that his water-flask was still at
his belt, took a long drink from it, for his lips and throat seemed as
dry as the back of his hand.
"Well done, sergeant; bravo!" said someone behind him; and other
voices echoed the sentiment. He turned his head dazedly, and gave a
start of astonishment. Under a tree near him stood ten men of his
company, some of them with heads or limbs roughly bandaged.
"What's up? he asked. What's happened, anyhow?"
One of the Indians here took him by the arm, led him over to the tree,
and signified that he must take his stand with the rest; and now he
could see that those of his comrades who were not wounded had their
hands bound, and that every man had a lasso-like thong tied about his
waist, the other end of which at present trailed loosely on the
ground.
"We're all on us prisoners; that's what's happened," said a corporal
by whose side he had been placed. "I thought _you_ was done for; 'pon
my word I did."
"Where's all the rest?"
"Dead, or else cut their lucky. Lowry, he's gone out, poor feller."
"How about Left'nant Boyd?"
"Guess he got clear after all. I seen two o' the boys gettin' him on
to a saddle-horse. There's one thing, them as got away on horseback'll
soon take the news to Wayne, so if these varmints don't tomahawk us or
set light to us, I surmise he'll soon be along to rescue us.... What's
their game now?"
Several mounted redskins were coming over to the prisoners, and after
a few words with those who had been taking charge of them, made a sign
to the Yankees that they must be prepared to march. The loose ends of
the thongs that bound them were handed up to one or other of the
horsemen, and they were soon being dragged forward at a brisk walking
pace. Munson indicated that he could not walk far till his wound had
received attention, whereupon, instead of treating him like the rest,
the Indians lifted him on to a spare horse, fastened his ankles under
the animal's belly, and one of the mounted Cherokees, seizing the
bridle, rode on with his captive.
The procession turned at once into the thickest part of the forest,
the horses stepping along so quickly, nevertheless, that those on foot
could scarcely keep up with them. Although there was no visible track
for them to follow, the redskins appeared to know quite well where
they were going; they conversed very little among themselves, and
Munson was riding too far away from his comrades to be able to
communicate with them. As nearly as he could guess by the light, it
must have been after five o'clock, and he had eaten nothing since
midday. He signed to his companion that he was hungry, but the Indian
merely shook his head. In about an hour from the time of starting the
horses were stopped, a short conversation ensued among the riders, and
then, to the sergeant's dismay, all moved on again, every one of the
prisoners being taken in a different direction.
Munson's captor, who was now joined by two other savages, turned in
the direction of the lake shore, and, quickening their pace to a
canter, they rode a good twelve miles without stopping. By dark they
arrived at an encampment where there were at least sixty wigwams
pitched. The horses were pulled up, the prisoner's feet were freed,
and he was ordered to dismount. He again made signs that he was
hungry, and this time one of the Indians pointed encouragingly to a
cooking-pot that hung over the nearest fire, and bade him sit down on
the grass.
Presently a squaw brought a kind of meal cake, and, plunging a wooden
fork into the pot, brought out a bird rather larger than a pigeon,
which she laid on the cake and handed to the captive, the three
Indians helping themselves in a similar manner. After a while, voices
and the tramp of more horses became audible, and about fifty Indians,
seemingly of the same tribe as those who had attacked the soldiers,
marched or rode into the camp. Many of these must have been away on a
hunting expedition, for they had with them a good supply of birds,
deer, hares, and foxes.
Feeling considerably stronger and more hopeful after his meal, the
American cast his eyes round in search of a way of escape. He was
unbound, and might possibly succeed in crawling, inch by inch,
down to the water-side; yet, with his shoulder in its present
condition, he could neither swim nor--supposing he should have the
luck to find a canoe--work a paddle; reason, moreover, suggested
that a semi-permanent camp such as this appeared to be, would
assuredly be far enough away from any white station or boat-route.
While he was still revolving plans, two redskins crossed over to him,
made him stand, seized his arms and bound them securely, though not
unmercifully, behind his back, and motioned to him to follow them.
They conducted him towards the largest of the wigwams, outside which
sat the chief of the tribe, solemnly smoking. After an interval of
dead silence, that personage gave a little shout, and all the men in
the camp collected round about the prisoner. A lengthy harangue
followed, addressed partly to Munson, partly to the bystanders; and,
at the close of this, one of the Indians drew a knife and whetted it
on his moccasin.
Young Munson pulled himself together and endeavoured to take courage
from the fact that, if death had now come, it had come while he was
doing his duty; a man of his calling must expect to meet it any day of
the week; indeed, how many of his old comrades-in-arms had met it
within the last few hours? At least the savages should see that he
could die like a man, without making a fuss.
The Indians nearest to him took him by the shoulders and forced him
into a sitting posture, and the man with the knife walked slowly up to
him and stood grinning over him. Then a horrible thought came to him;
they were going to give him a punishment almost worse than death--to
scalp him, in fact--an indignity which only a man who had lived all
his life in the neighbourhood of Indians could fully appreciate. He
wriggled himself free and, springing up again, kicked out fiercely at
his tormentors. For this they seemed to care little; the man's hands
were tied and he was at their mercy. He was forced down again and held
motionless; then, while one man gripped him by the back of his neck so
that he could not possibly move his head, the operator with the knife
entered upon his task.
But he whom Munson had regarded as the public executioner was but the
barber to the tribe; the formidable-looking knife had no more terrible
work to perform than that of shaving the unfortunate man's head, and
this in token that henceforth he was the chief's bond-slave.
So much relieved that he laughed loudly at himself for his idle fears,
the sergeant was then liberated, and taken to a wigwam where he found
a fellow-slave, a Crow Indian, who had been captured some few weeks
earlier; and both occupied the tent that night, by no means cheered by
the fact that an armed redskin stood at the entrance all night long.
Apart from his anxiety to let his friends know of his whereabouts, the
young man was not unhappy among the Cherokees. For the first month or
two of his captivity a very close watch was kept upon him, and, even
later, it was at all times difficult for him to be away from
observation for many consecutive minutes; but gradually he was given
more liberty, was allowed to go fishing and hunting within certain
limits, and was not again subjected to the disgrace of having his head
shaved. His principal duties were to carry water from the lake,
collect firewood, tend the fires, and do such other menial work as the
squaws were not strong enough for, and as the men were too proud to
do. Having no one to converse with in his own language, he rapidly
picked up theirs, more rapidly indeed than they realised, for they
would often talk of their war plans in his presence as though he would
not understand their talk. From the more approachable of the Cherokees
he occasionally learned news of the outside world; heard that General
Wayne was still fighting against their people, and that "they
themselves didn't care a button for him." He never saw, among them,
any of the horrible scenes of blood and torture which other captives
among Indians have described; they were ignorant and superstitious,
but neither lazy nor drunken nor particularly cruel. Sometimes the
"war-arrow" was brought into the camp by some fleet messenger, and
then the majority of the braves would gallop away or set off in their
canoes, and, after an absence of hours or days, would return--often
laden with spoil taken from the Sioux or the whites, and sometimes
leaving some of their number behind.
We may be sure that, all this while, Munson had worked out a good many
schemes for effecting his escape; but, like a wise man, he knew that
one unsuccessful attempt would infallibly result in prolonging his
captivity and rendering it more severe, if not actually in his death.
When he started, there must be no half-measures; all hindrances and
difficulties must be foreseen and allowed for. He practised
assiduously the art of following a trail, whether by land or water;
already he had become very handy with a bow and arrow, for he was
never allowed firearms; he did his best to become an expert canoeman,
and lost no opportunity, in fact, of learning to outwit the enemy with
their own weapons, all the while telling himself that, sooner or
later, the golden opportunity must come.
It did come, but not till he had been in the Cherokee camp for nearly
eight months. One morning, in the summer of 1794, three Indians whom
he had never seen before and who, he learned, were of the Huron tribe,
rode into the camp and held a short parley with the chief. Very soon
the place was in an uproar, and Munson was easily able to find out the
news. The Iowas had spied out this camp and that of some neighbouring
Hurons, had betrayed the secret to the Yankee general, and he was now
on his way to attack the Hurons' stronghold. In an hour's time all the
men, save three aged braves, had left the wigwams and were on the
war-path.
For a while the sergeant hesitated. If the soldiers really knew how to
find the camp they would force their way to it before long, cost them
what it might; and he would be set at liberty. But the chances were
that he might be either shot down before he could make himself known
to them, or be killed by the Indians the moment he endeavoured to do
so. He would never get a better opportunity of escaping than this, for
the weather was warm, there was no one to stop him from going, and the
canoes were all at his service, as the braves had gone in the opposite
direction to the water.
He waited five days, for the old men left behind had shown a certain
amount of suspicion of him for the first day or two. Then, with a
plentiful supply of food, arrows, and fish-spears, he stole away soon
after sundown, crept into a canoe and paddled away from the shore. His
object was to reach Buffalo if possible, but that was over a hundred
miles away, and he could not paddle day and night without rest.
Knowing that he must husband his strength, he confined himself to an
easy rate of about three miles an hour; and even then, by the time he
had gone thirty miles, he could hardly keep his eyes open.
He had recourse to the good old specific of cold water, took a header
into the lake and, after a short swim, returned to his post, ate a
cold but hearty breakfast, and began again, all the while keeping his
eyes open for any white men's boat that might come along. But the
hours went by and he saw nothing, and the desire for sleep became as
pressing--and just now as much to be dreaded--as though he had been
lost in a snow-drift. He took a second dip and, clambering back into
the canoe, began paddling again, though his muscles were now so stiff
that he could scarcely move his arms.
He was nodding over his now almost useless labour when a light splash,
like the bob of a fish, made him look round him. The splash had been
caused by an arrow. Behind him, two canoes, each with three Indians in
it, were coming along at a speed that he could not have beaten even
had he been perfectly fresh. For just one second there was the hope
that the redskins might be of some tribe hostile to the Cherokees, who
would be willing to help him in return for promises of money, which he
could easily obtain from some charitable person at Buffalo. But he
knew the build, the costume, the very method of using the paddles, too
well; these men were Cherokees. He turned round to pick up his bow,
and, in so doing, looked over the side. Floating within a yard or two
of him was an arrow, lying perfectly horizontal! He stared at it
open-mouthed; an arrow, if the weight of its head did not sink it
entirely, must float perpendicularly, showing but very little of its
length.
But this particular arrow _had_ no head; a token that it had not been
shot in any unfriendly spirit. He looked back at his pursuers again;
one of them was waving his hand, and, as his canoe came almost within
touching distance, shouted:
"We have some fish; will you give us bread in exchange for some? We
have no bread, and very little tobacco." The words sounded very much
like an excerpt from Somebody or Other's "French Exercises," not the
less so in that they were uttered in French-Canadian--a language which
Munson understood perfectly well. He could almost have cried with
relief.
The Cherokees were Ontario fishermen; Christians, and the sons of
Christians, and no more likely to interfere with the soldier than if
they had been his fellow-countrymen. On finding that he spoke not only
French but their own Iroquoian as well, they became exceedingly
friendly; but Munson (perhaps he did them grave injustice) had become
far too cautious to tell them the circumstances under which he had
learned their language. He confined himself to the statement that he
wished to reach Buffalo, and would reward them amply if they would put
him ashore there; he had been robbed of his money, he said--which was
perfectly true--but could easily get some in the town; he was too
tired to use his paddles; would they take him there?
The next thing he knew was that the Indians were waking him at the
quay outside Buffalo; he had fallen asleep even while trying to strike
a bargain with them, and now they refused to take any other payment
than the tobacco and provisions with which he had stored his boat;
and, bidding him good-bye, they landed him and paddled away again.
He went to the nearest military depot and reported himself, and of
course had no difficulty in obtaining the means to reach his home.
CHAPTER II
THE INVASION OF CORRIENTES
The South American Indian, as a soldier, is a being about whom we
English know very little. Of course we know that, centuries ago, he
was a force to be reckoned with locally; we know that when his
civilisation was stamped out of him he became a mere savage, ignorant,
dirty, brutal and crafty; but it is something of a surprise to us to
learn that, during the first quarter of the nineteenth century, he
occasionally shook off much of his savagery, and showed himself the
equal of the white soldier in discipline, generalship, staying-power
and chivalry. A case in point is that of Andresito Artegas, one of the
most striking figures in modern South American history.
Andresito, who belonged to the Guaycuru branch of the great Guaranian
tribe, was the adopted son of the celebrated insurgent leader,
Artegas, who seems to have given him some education and to have
developed in him the great natural foresight and controlling power
which he was to exhibit later in the war between the Guaranians and
the Portuguese of Argentina.
This petty war, which lasted roughly from 1818 to 1820, was
largely a "coming to a head" of the constant bickerings, forays,
and persecutions which, for years, had been interchanged between the
white man and the red; and though, in the end, the Indians were
badly beaten and the tribe almost annihilated, in the early and
middle stages of the contest there seemed every likelihood of the
Portuguese being driven out of La Plata. In 1819, emboldened by a
train of minor successes, Andresito, with a force of seven hundred
Guaycurus, determined to seize the city of Corrientes.
Next to Buenos Ayres, this was the wealthiest and most important of
the Argentine towns, and much of the commerce was in the hands of
British merchants, such as the well-known brothers Robertson, and
their friend and sometime patron Thomas Postlethwaite. To men like
this the news of Andresito's advance was alarming enough, for it would
probably mean financial ruin, if nothing worse; but to the more
excitable Portuguese residents it was absolute paralysis. People went
stark mad with panic; the seven hundred Indians became seven, and even
seventy, thousand. Tales went from mouth to mouth of massacres
unspeakable in every village and town on Andresito's line of march,
and it was said that the Paraguay boundary and the Parana River--the
only means of safety hitherto open to fugitives--were already in
Indian hands.
Mr. Postlethwaite, disappointed in the hopes of being able to send his
two daughters down the river to Buenos Ayres, resolved to take matters
into his own hands as far as possible, and saw that all the Europeans
were armed and ready to band together in self-defence. But before
anything in the way of concerted effort could be agreed upon, rumour
became fact; Andresito and his Indian cavalry were within half a mile
of the city. Two Portuguese men dropped dead in the street with
fright; Francisco Bedoya, commandant of the colonial troops, lost his
head altogether; collected all the money and plate he could lay his
hands on and buried it in the garden, then began to run about the
streets like a rat in a trap.
As a last resource, Mr. Postlethwaite sent one of his servants to
Andresito with a letter, warning him that our Government might mete
out a terrible punishment if British life and property were not
respected; and, to his great relief, the man soon came riding back
with a courteous message from the young chief, to the effect that no
violence was intended to anyone, least of all to British subjects.
The Englishman was imparting this message to his friends when the
steady trot of a large body of horse was heard, and everyone either
rushed to hiding-places or swarmed into the streets. Postlethwaite and
his daughters reached the _Plaza_ in time to see the Indian soldiers
take possession of it. Nothing could less resemble a horde of
uncivilised invaders than these seven hundred men. Headed by the
handsome young Andresito and his Spanish-Peruvian secretary, Mexias,
the Guaycurus halted and dismounted at the sound of the bugle, and it
could be seen that they were a set of well-trained fellows, armed like
a European cavalry troop, dressed like civilised people, and
apparently no more ready for outrage than if they had been loyalist
soldiers come to rescue the town.
The rear of the procession was certainly remarkable, being composed of
four hundred boys of from six to fourteen years, half of them the
children of white people, round whom thronged a mixed group of
farmers and their wives, screaming, threatening, and entreating. The
Indian boys were liberated slaves, and it appeared that wherever
Andresito had found a native child in captivity, he had freed him and
taken a white boy prisoner. It is interesting to know that, not many
days later, the Indian chief gathered together the distressed parents
who had been able to keep up with or to follow his march, and handed
the white children over to them.
"I have given you a lesson, he said. In future, try to remember that
Indian parents have hearts as well as you."
Andresito's first act on arriving at the _Plaza_ was certainly not
that of a bloodthirsty tyrant; for, marshalling his men on foot, he
led them straight into the cathedral to hear Mass, and as soon as the
service was ended, began to converse amicably with the principal
inhabitants of the town. The cowardly commandant, Bedoya, had found a
place of concealment; perhaps his conscience pricked him, for only a
few weeks before he had instigated the massacre of an entire Indian
village. At any rate, he would not face the Guaycurus, and in
imitation of their valiant leader, the whole garrison deserted their
barracks, leaving them at the new-comers' disposal.
In Mr. Postlethwaite, Andresito speedily recognised a far-seeing,
wise, and courageous old man, whose advice would be worth listening
to; and after a few days, the Englishman's influence over him became
so great that, during the young leader's occasional outbursts of
ungovernable temper or drunkenness, his followers would invariably
send for the tactful merchant and beg him to manage their chief for
them.
No doubt this peaceful state of things might have lasted indefinitely
but for two unpleasant factors; the first of which was the spite and
jealousy of Mexias, the Indian chief's secretary--a vulgar toady and
adventurer who could not be loyal to white man or red, and who,
alarmed at the willingness with which Andresito listened to
Postlethwaite's counsels, lost no opportunity of poisoning his mind
against the honest merchant.
The second probable cause of trouble was the ill-bred conduct of the
Spanish and Portuguese residents towards the Indian chiefs. We all
know, either from history or experience, that it is dangerous and
unwise to ignore the natural barrier that exists between the white and
the coloured races; but that is no reason why a man should be
gratuitously insulted because he is an Indian; and when Andresito
found himself regarded socially with contempt and ridicule by people
who, a fortnight earlier, would have knelt and grovelled to him for
their lives, he was not unnaturally out of temper.
From these two causes, relations became more and more strained, and
one morning a file of soldiers appeared at Postlethwaite's house,
arrested him on a variety of stupid and trumped-up charges, and lodged
him in the common prison among criminals of the lowest type. His elder
daughter at once went to Andresito's hotel, but could not obtain an
interview with him till the next day. Then the chief happened to be in
a good humour, and after some little argument, admitted that the
arrest was due to Mexias' having told him that her father meditated
escaping to Buenos Ayres to warn the Portuguese; and on the girl's
indignantly denying this, the prisoner was set at liberty.
As a peace-offering for this affront to the Europeans, Andresito gave
a great dinner-party to the chief residents, which was to be followed
by a display of picturesque Indian dances. Very few of the Spaniards
or Portuguese accepted the invitation, and those who did were
particularly offensive in their comments on the dancing. Andresito
left the hall in a towering rage.
The following morning the Postlethwaite household was again disturbed
by a visit from Indian soldiers.
"What now?" asked the merchant, losing patience.
"All those who received invitations to the General's entertainment
last night are to come and report themselves; the gentlemen at the
_Plaza_ and the ladies at the barracks," said a soldier civilly.
The two English girls followed their conductors to the barracks, and
there found all the best-known white women of Corrientes guarded by a
troop of soldiers. Andresito soon made his appearance.
"Ladies, he said, I understand that you disapprove of Indian dances;
therefore I have invited you here to teach us better. When each lady
has condescended to dance with an Indian soldier she will be set at
liberty."
Miss Postlethwaite and her sister had the good sense to regard the
affair as one of humour rather than of humiliation, and not stopping
to point out that they were being punished for the misdeeds of
others, they readily yielded to the chief's whim, and were the first
to be dismissed. They hurried at once to the _Plaza_, and here a very
unlooked-for sight awaited them.
Guarded by a hundred soldiers under Mexias, all the well-to-do men of
the town were at work on their hands and knees, weeding the square,
rooting out, with fingers or penknives, the tufts of shabby grass that
grew plentifully between the cobble-stones! The heat was so
suffocating that their father and other elderly men were well-nigh
fainting; but there all were obliged to remain till the task was
finished, shortly before sundown.
This indignity so enraged Postlethwaite that he was tempted to
persuade the white men to combine against their persecutors and rid
the town of them, but was deterred by the irresolution and petty
jealousies of the Corrientes men, and by the thought of the terrible
amount of bloodshed for which he would be making himself responsible.
Abandoning that idea, he fell back on plans for escape. This would be
difficult, if not impossible, for Indians were said to be in
possession of the country all round, and flight by water was out of
the question, because all the boats had been destroyed or sent adrift,
and the larger craft from Buenos Ayres seldom came farther north than
Goya.
By way of lulling any suspicions on Andresito's part as to his
schemes, he invited him and his staff to dinner one evening. The
Indians conducted themselves with great dignity and politeness, and
were very loud in their praise of British fare--particularly of the
"plom puddin Ingles" with which the host regaled them. Andresito's
bearing towards his young hostesses was gallantry itself; he even
styled them his _paysanitas_ or countrywomen, as well as _Indias
rubias_ (fair Indians.)
"But what makes you think we are your compatriots, Senor?" asked the
younger girl.
"Ah, Senorita," said Andresito, "I fear you have not studied the
history of England as I have done. Did you not know that _all_ the
people in your country were Indians till the Spanish king, Julius
Caesar, conquered it?"
The dinner passed off very brightly and merrily, and at last the
English merchant proposed the health of the Indian chief. This was
drunk heartily; but Mexias, who had much of the mischief-maker and
still more of the cad in him, having emptied his glass, broke it and
threw the pieces over his shoulder, calling on the Indians to do the
same. Now this was not at all an uncommon Spanish custom; but Miss
Postlethwaite had strong objections to seeing every glass in the house
broken, at a time when communication with the capital was cut off, and
even the simplest household necessaries difficult to procure. She
whispered a hint to Andresito, at which the hot-headed fellow sprang
up, drew his sword, and vowed that he would kill the next man who
broke a glass.
In revenge for this snub, the Peruvian asked the Postlethwaite ladies
and others to a dinner; and when all had partaken of and commended the
soup and entrees, he took occasion to inform his guests with great
insolence that the substance of all the savouries was horse-beef.
This elegant practical joke was his last. The following evening he was
met by the brother of one of the Spanish ladies, who promptly avenged
the insult in a manner not unusual among people of Latin blood--by
plunging a knife into his back.
This incident was the beginning of general anarchy. Indians and
Argentines alike took the law into their own hands, the latter
emboldened by rumours that white armies were marching on the city, the
former restless and demoralised through their leader's inability to
press on to further conquests till he was reinforced by the troops of
Indians, half-castes, or insurgent whites for which he was waiting. To
Mr. Postlethwaite there now seemed no more risk in flight than in
remaining in the city; so, secreting his portable wealth, and sending
his daughters forward with horses and two armed menservants as
occasion offered, he managed to join them at nightfall near the river
and well beyond the town.
They made excellent pace, and soon after daybreak had reached the
strip of desolate, hilly country that runs along the west bank of the
Parana. Then Postlethwaite called a halt, and had decided that they
would rest themselves and their horses for a few hours, when Juan, his
Spanish cook, pointed back to some moving objects at the foot of the
long hill whose summit they had just reached--Indians, from the way
they sat their horses, though the distance was too great for the
watchers to distinguish whether they were the half-naked savages of
the country or the better-dressed, better-armed cavalry of Andresito.
[Illustration: A NARROW ESCAPE
When Corrientes was seized by Andresito and his Indians Mr. Postlethwaite
and his daughters succeeded in escaping to the banks of the Parana. A
pursuing body of Indians almost captured them, but the boat's crew of a
ship which happened to be lying in the river kept them at bay with oars
and boat-stretchers.]
"In either case we must not risk falling into their hands," said
Postlethwaite. "Up with you all again."
"But the horses are so beaten," urged his elder daughter.
"Not more so than theirs, probably," he said. "And they have a good
mile or more of hill to climb."
The jaded beasts were hastily mounted again, and, always keeping the
river in sight, the party made what speed they could towards the
nearest white station or landing-stage. The hill which their pursuers
had yet to climb would double the value of the start they had of them,
to be sure; but there would be no means of hiding from them when they
again reached the high level, and unless the Indians' horses were
extraordinarily fatigued, it was to be feared that they would soon
make up for lost time.
For the next half-hour there was no sign of redskins. Then one head,
then another, straggled into view, but still so far distant that the
fugitives could not see whether they were moving or stationary. Their
own horses were on their last legs, so much so that it was becoming
sheer brutality to urge them on. The two girls dismounted and turned
their poor beasts loose and the servants followed their example--as
did also Postlethwaite himself when, on looking back once more, he
could see at least ten figures--moving now, beyond all doubt--not much
more than a mile behind.
"We shall have to run for it," he said.
"A ship, Senor; a ship!" cried one of the men hysterically, pointing
ahead; and sure enough there were the two naked topmasts of a brig, a
mile or more farther down the river.
No one else remarked on the sight; no one had breath to spare for
anything but running.
Five minutes went by, and they seemed no nearer. The Englishman
glanced behind him; the Indians had not appreciably lessened the
distance between them. Another five minutes, and then voices were
becoming distinctly audible, though whether those of seamen or
pursuers it was difficult to say. Postlethwaite began to stumble.
"I'm--done for," he panted. "You must go on--and send help back."
"No, no, give me your hand," cried his elder daughter. "Look; look
behind you!"
He obeyed. The two foremost Indians had abandoned their horses and
come within gunshot; and one was coolly taking aim at them with his
musket.
"Only another minute or two," said the girl soothingly.
"Where are you going? Where are you going?" cried a voice in Spanish.
They were running exactly parallel to the river, but about thirty
yards from the water-edge. Looking to their left they saw for the
first time that one of the brig's boats had drawn up as close as
possible to the bank and that her coxswain was beckoning to them.
They needed no further warning, but made a dash for the boat. As they
did so a bullet whistled past their ears, and the younger girl sank
down on the dry grass.
"She is wounded; she is killed," shouted Postlethwaite.
"No, Senor; only faint and frightened," panted the stalwart cook, and,
hastily picking his young mistress up in his arms, he caught up the
others, who were dragged on board as a second bullet flew over their
heads. Juan handed in his burden and was about to vault over the
gunwale, when his foot slipped on the mud and he fell sideways into
the water.
With drawn swords the two Indians--emissaries of Andresito--made a
dash at him, but were kept aloof by oars and boat-stretchers; and as
one of them drew a pistol, Juan's fellow-servant did likewise and sent
a bullet through his arm, just as the plucky cook was dragged into
safety and the boat pushed into the stream.
Not long afterwards a strong Portuguese force drove the Guaycurus out
of Corrientes and took Andresito prisoner. He was conveyed to the
coast and eventually liberated; but he died not long after, and with
him the hopes of independence which the Guaranian Indians had been
cherishing.
CHAPTER III
A CAPTIVE AMONG ARGENTINE INDIANS
Till the beginning of the nineteenth century, the Guaranian Indians
(with the Abipons and other sub-tribes) were in possession of a great
part of Southern Brazil, Paraguay, and Eastern Argentina. They were
one of the strongest of the Indian peoples, unusually tall and
athletic, and, so long as they had reliable leaders, well able to hold
their own against the Portuguese. But owing to internal dissensions,
intermarriages with Europeans, and more especially to the crushing
defeat by the colonists, in 1820, of their great chief Andresito
Artegas, they had become, by the middle of the century, a negligible
quantity.
Much of their trouble with the Portuguese was of their own seeking;
for, not content with beating off their attacks, they were perpetually
making unprovoked raids upon peaceful farmsteads, carrying off not only
cattle, but European boys and girls, of whom they not infrequently
made slaves. A typical instance of this sort of thing came under the
notice of Mr. Peter Campbell, better known as Don Pedro, _Commandante
de Marinos_, or Admiral of the Fleet, who from 1819 onwards was in the
employ of the Argentine Government.
Two Portuguese girls, with their little brother, were returning on
horseback to their father's farm near Cordoba, when a series of
frantic yells behind them warned them that savages were in pursuit. A
single glance back was sufficient to show how futile all attempts at
flight would probably be; the redskins were well mounted and used to
riding at breakneck pace, while the girls' horses, not too spirited at
the best of times, were jaded with a long, hot journey.
The cries--rendered more savage and blood-curdling by the Indian
practice of simultaneously clapping the lips with the palm of the
hand--grew louder and more bewildering. The boy lost control of his
horse--the youngest and fastest of the three--and was soon well ahead
of his sisters, the younger of whom, Ascencion by name, had the
presence of mind to scream to him to ride straight on to Cordoba, if
possible, and warn the military authorities there. The words were
hardly out of her mouth when a shriek came from her sister, who was a
dozen yards behind.
"I am taken. Do not desert me."
Ascencion turned her head, only to see the chief himself, a
splendid-looking elderly man, riding straight for her own bridle.
In another minute both girls were prisoners. Each was dragged from her
saddle and lifted to that of her captor; their two horses were handed
to some young Indians who rode in the rear, and then they found
themselves being whirled away in the direction of the Parana River,
which lay some hundred and seventy miles distant. The cavalcade made
no halt till long after dark, when it arrived at a _tolderia_ or
native encampment. Here the girls were handed over to the womenfolk,
who, after robbing them of all their finery, took them to separate
tents and told them what would be their future duties.
Worn out with grief and excitement, Ascencion threw herself on the
ground in her wigwam (_toldos_) and, refusing food, sobbed herself to
sleep. When she awoke, it was day; she was alone in the tent, and now
had leisure to examine it and its contents. This was soon done. The
miserable abode was a pyramidal hut, each side about nine feet long
and consisting merely of a few tall slender sticks, across which a
rough matting of straw, like a collection of old bottle cases, was
laid. Through the matting sufficient daylight struggled to show that
the only furniture of the _toldos_ consisted of half a dozen bows of
great length, and a few gourds, fashioned into drinking-cups.
She was creeping to the entry in the hope of finding out her sister's
whereabouts, when agitated shouts resounded through the camp.
"Flee, flee! The Cordoban soldiers are coming."
Those shouts were the sweetest music she had ever heard. Heedless of
the danger she might incur, she rushed into the open, calling loudly
for her sister.
What followed was very like a nightmare. Redskinned, half-naked
figures flitted backwards and forwards, screaming incoherently, in her
tongue and their own. Then all of a sudden the tents round about
seemed to rise up of themselves and collapse. A lengthy, rumbling
chorus of shouts came from a hundred yards away, followed by a carbine
volley whose bullets knocked up the dust all round her, and one of
which laid a young Indian dead, almost within a yard of her. Then she
caught sight of her sister being lifted into a saddle, and while she
endeavoured to attract her attention, a hand was pressed over her own
mouth and strong arms swung her on to a horse which seemed to come
from nowhere. She knew nothing more till she found herself being borne
at a tearing speed across the plain, lashed inextricably to the
cacique's body.
She stole a glance over her shoulder. Less than half a mile away she
could see, through a cloud of dust, a string of straggling mounted
figures, half a dozen riding ahead, and seven or eight more trying in
vain to keep up with them; and from the flash of the sun-rays on their
scabbards and metal horse-furniture, she knew them to be white men.
But would they overtake her captors? The distance increased, then
lessened considerably, then began slowly to increase again. She heard
a few shots fired by the pursuers, but these took no effect. The space
between them grew greater than ever, for even while the Cordobans'
horses slackened their speed and flagged, those of the Indians seemed
only to gain fresh strength; and at last she looked away, again losing
all heart. For the soldiers had come to a dead stop, and in a few
minutes she would be carried out of all sight of them. A howl of
triumph and derision rose from the Abipons; nevertheless, they did not
draw bridle till they came in sight of another _tolderia_, whose
occupants would form such a reinforcement as would enable them to defy
any but a very strong company of white men.
Ascencion had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours and had held no
communication with her sister since their separation. She was now
handed over to the care of a motherly old body who was a relative of
the cacique, and presumably a person of some importance in the tribe.
Not only did she at once supply the girl with food and drink, but she
promised to make interest for her sister to be placed with her.
This promise was fulfilled, and for the next week or two the girls
shared the old woman's hut together at night, being kept by day in
attendance on the cacique's wife, who, if she made them work hard at
cooking, corn-grinding, and rough weaving, was at least not unkind to
them. But this is not to say that these Indians were not cruel by
nature and habit. One day after a foraging party had returned, the
cacique approached the two prisoners, and addressing them in
Portuguese, said roughly:
"Come with me. Come and see what is in store for any of your friends
who attempt to rescue you."
They followed him tremblingly to the centre of the camp, and there
found a young Spaniard, bound hand and foot to pegs that were driven
into the ground. He had been caught wandering in the forest, and,
being unarmed, was an easy capture.
At a word from the chief, a dozen men stepped back from the prostrate
lad, and drawing their bows, each sent an arrow straight at him. Every
arrow but one transfixed the body; that one was ceremoniously burnt
and its ashes buried; it was in disgrace for having missed its mark.
This murder was the only exhibition of cruelty which Ascencion
witnessed at that camp, though almost every day the cacique
threatened her and her sister with death if they made any attempt to
escape. As far as they could gather, they were to be kept till the
next general meeting of the tribe, and then sold or bartered as wives
to the two highest bidders.
When they had been in captivity a little over a fortnight some young
men of the tribe rode hastily into the camp one evening and called
excitedly for the cacique. They had, said they, been pursued by a
strong party of Macabi Indians (one of the Peruvian sub-tribes) who
had never altogether lost sight of them, and were even now making a
descent on the camp.
Instantly the whole tribe turned out, with bows, spears, hatchets, and
some few even with muskets. The alarm was no false one. The Macabis,
about eighty in number, badly mounted, but far better armed than were
the Abipons, were in sight, and would soon endeavour to surround the
_tolderia_, the inhabitants of which, so far from showing any sign of
unreadiness to do battle, or anxiety as to the issue thereof, were
quickly and joyously disposing themselves to the best advantage.
Indeed, they were the first to open fire; but the harmless volley from
the half-dozen ramshackle old muskets was answered by a deadly shower
of well-aimed bullets from at least forty guns.
The two slave girls, crouching with some other women in one of the
huts, could catch glimpses of the fight through the chinks in the
matting. To an outsider it might seem that Ascencion would care little
as to the result of the conflict, but the Peruvians were a fierce
tribe, far more uncivilised than their enemies--who were, for the most
part, Christians--and to fall into their hands would probably involve
far worse treatment than she had undergone at the hands of her
original captors.
Presently, as the darkness began to fall, she saw a score of the young
men separate themselves from the rest of the defenders, and begin to
untether some of the horses. Then one of them hastened into her tent
and bade her and those with her hurry out to the horses. The Macabis
were steadily gaining the upper hand, and all the women were to be
escorted by as many of the tribe as could be spared, towards a small
and semi-permanent camp on the river, between Chamorra and Goya. No
time was lost in obeying, and Ascencion had already been lifted up
behind the cacique's wife, when her sister, who was waiting to be
mounted on the next horse, threw up her arms and fell without a cry.
One of the enemy's bullets had pierced her breast and the poor girl
lay dead.
From that time Ascencion knew little or nothing of what happened; she
had an indistinct recollection of an all-night ride, then of resting,
once in green woods, and once on a burning, sandy plain; then of a
second long march in the dark; but that was all. For she was in a
fever which did not leave her till some days after their arrival at
the river _tolderia_; and, when next she left her hut, the first thing
she saw was the remainder of the tribe returning from the long battle.
They had been beaten, but nevertheless had inflicted such a blow on
the victors as crippled all attempts at pursuit of them.
Then began again the same wearisome life as before, only more
intolerable now that Ascencion had lost her sister. But one
afternoon, when most of the men were away hunting, the cacique came up
to her as she was preparing for her daily task of fetching water from
the river, and showing his knife threateningly, observed:
"There is a boat's crew of white men making for the shore. Stay here
till they are gone. If you speak to one of them you shall die."
The caution seemed needless enough, for by this time the poor girl had
become so cowed and destitute of hope, that she had little heart to
attempt escape. Moreover, it was quite possible that men of her own
race might be no more desirable neighbours than the Indians. And so
she sat down where she was, under a tree, feeling but little interest
in the coming of the sailors. Looking listlessly towards the row of
trees that hid the river from her view, she presently caught sight of
the cacique ushering two white men towards his _toldos_, and evidently
bearing himself with great obsequiousness towards them. The taller of
the two entered, but the other began idly to walk about the camp,
exchanging cheery words with the women at work there. Very soon he was
standing by Ascencion's side. She was hesitating whether to answer a
civil greeting of his, when he said quickly:
"But you are not an Indian girl, surely?"
Then she forgot all caution and all indifference to her condition. She
had heard her own language spoken by one of her own people!
"No; I am Portuguese. I am a prisoner," she whispered eagerly.
"Why not escape then?"
"Alas; they would kill me. No one will help me."
"I'll find someone who will," said the young man, who wore a naval
commander's uniform; and he ran to the cacique's tent, Ascencion
following him more slowly. In another minute both strangers
reappeared, talking earnestly in a language which the girl could only
suppose to be English, as the second sailor was very tall and of fair
complexion. When they had almost reached her, the Portuguese officer
suddenly touched his cap and set off running full speed back towards
the river. The other beckoning to her, and addressing her gently in
tolerable Portuguese, said:
"Is it true that you are a prisoner, my poor lass?"
The girl hesitated, for the cacique, who had guessed something of the
import of the white men's conversation, was laying his hand on the
haft of his knife. But the Englishman noticed the action, and
immediately began to finger his sword-hilt.
"Speak up," he said; "there is nothing to be afraid of."
Then, interrupted every now and then by indignant remonstrance or
denial from the chief, Ascencion told her story.
"Very well," said the sailor at length. "Come on board my ship; I
shall take you up the river to Corrientes, and leave you with some
English ladies till your friends can be communicated with."
"Not so fast, Senor," said the cacique, assuming a more bullying tone.
"Of course you can take her--if you like to pay the price I----"
The officer whipped out his sword. "This is the only price I pay," he
said curtly.
[Illustration: A PLUCKY RESCUE
The Indians surrounded the officer and the shrinking Portuguese girl. The
Cacique threatened him with his hatchet, but a touch of the Englishman's
sword-point at his throat made him reconsider his designs. Another Indian
made at him with a knife, only to receive such a blow across the ear with
the flat of the sword as knocked him to the ground.]
The cacique laughed contemptuously, and with a single shout summoned
the couple of dozen men who happened to be within hearing, and who
surrounded the Englishman and the shrinking girl in an instant,
swinging their war-hatchets, and yelling one against the other.
"Oh, stop that din, do," said the officer with good-humoured
impatience. "Listen to me, my lads. I am Commandante Don Pedro--or
plain Peter Campbell, if you like that better. I've got a cutter and
twenty men a few yards away, to say nothing of a ten-gun brig with
sixty hands aboard of her, in the stream. Now, are you going to stand
clear?"
Brigs and cutters were meaningless to the Indians; but what they did
understand was the sudden appearance from among the trees of Don
Edwardo, the Portuguese captain, followed by a dozen sturdy
seamen--English, Yankee, and Portuguese, armed with muskets and
cutlasses.
The cacique re-echoed his war-cry and threatened Campbell with his
hatchet; but a touch of the Englishman's sword-point at his throat
made him reconsider his designs. Another Indian made at the "admiral"
with a knife--only to receive such a blow across the ear with the flat
of the sword as knocked him to the ground. The tramp of the seamen
stopped, and, at the command, muskets were slung and cutlasses drawn.
The cacique bade his men drop their arms--almost a needless
recommendation.
"Take her," he said sullenly.
Campbell pointed to the man whom he had knocked down. "Take away his
knife," he said, addressing his boatswain, a burly Yankee. "Now--you
have attempted to kill an Englishman, and you shall die." Don Pedro
felt the edge of the knife and gave it a final "strop" on his palm.
"I'm going to cut his head off, as a warning to the rest of you," he
said, so sternly that the Indians and even the cacique uttered little
cries of terror.
Ascencion began to think that Englishmen were no more merciful than
other people; for, as the Indian crouched whimpering at Don Pedro's
feet, he stooped and brandished the knife with all the coolness of a
butcher. But, to her amazement, when he stood up again, the head was
still in its normal position, while, in his left hand, Campbell held
the braided pigtail of hair, full five feet long, which had proudly
adorned the head of the would-be assassin; and he, still doubting his
good fortune in having got off so cheaply, sprang up and made headlong
for the woods.
This is but one of the scores of anecdotes told of the celebrated
soldier of fortune, Peter Campbell, who, whatever may have been his
faults, was never known to show fear, to be disloyal to his employers
or unjust to the Indians; indeed, by his unfailing good nature and
sense of fairness and fun, he succeeded in adjusting many a tribal or
political grievance which in the hands of most men, however
well-meaning, would probably have ended in bloodshed.
The Portuguese girl was taken up the river, and when she returned to
her parents she was accompanied by a husband, for she married an Irish
settler in Corrientes.
CHAPTER IV
THE IROQUOIS OF THE CANADIAN BOUNDARY
The Iroquoian branch of the red race is considered by the best
authorities to be far superior, mentally and physically, to any other.
Before British rule was definitely established in Canada, they were a
power (known as "The Six Nations") duly recognised by English and
French alike; and to-day, though less numerous than the Algonquins,
they show fewer signs of dying out than the other families. Ontario
is, and has ever been, a favourite district of theirs, and it was
while living in this province that Dr. John Bigsby, who died in 1881,
jotted down the notes concerning them which one often sees quoted in
works dealing with the study of races.
Surgeon-Major Bigsby had the good fortune, as a young man, to be
appointed geologist and medical officer to the Canadian Boundary
Commission, a post decidedly congenial to a zealous student of
ethnology, since it brought him in constant touch with the Cherokees,
who, with the Hurons, Mohawks, etc., constitute the Iroquoian family.
The inspection of military and native hospitals, together with his
geological researches, necessitated frequent journeys north, south,
and west from Montreal; and it was on one such journey, in the year
1822, that he met with a string of adventures both comical and
exciting.
From Montreal he set out in a light waggon for Kingston, where he fell
in with an acquaintance, Jules Rocheblanc, a fur-trader who, like
himself, had various calls to make on the shores of Lake Ontario.
Rocheblanc had already arranged to travel with Father Tabeau, the
diocesan inspector of missions, and the doctor very willingly joined
their party. The mission boat, unlike the birch canoes, was a
well-built, roomy craft paddled by eight or ten Indians--Cherokees and
Hurons--all of whom spoke Canadian-French fluently. The weather,
though cool, was far from severe, and as all three travellers had
frequent engagements ashore, these made welcome breaks in the
journey.
After Toronto was passed, the white stations became scarcer, and
villages inhabited by Indians more frequent; and, at the first of
these, the young army surgeon began to fear that the treachery so
often justly imputed to the redskins was going to betray itself.
Three of the Indians had asked leave to go ashore for a day's hunting,
and, as the meat supply had run short, Pere Tabeau was glad to let
them go, on the understanding that they were to await him that evening
at a spot below the next Indian village, at which he was to halt for a
few hours. Owing to some minor accident, it was well on in the
afternoon before the boat came in sight of the village, which stood at
the foot of a hill, immediately on the lake shore.
Two or three dozen Indians could be seen on a grassy space, engaged in
their national ball-play--a mixture of tennis, lacrosse, and Rugby
football, which will be more closely described in the next chapter. By
the goal nearest the water, the absent canoemen were standing, a
goodly heap of game piled at their feet. The moment they caught sight
of their boat they drew the attention of the players to it; these
immediately abandoned the game and, running to the farther goal,
picked up muskets and hastened with them towards the quay.
"This is something new," said Bigsby, "and I don't like the look of
it. For whom do they take us?" He took a pistol from his bag, and
Rocheblanc did the same; then, looking towards the bank again, they
saw that every redskin had pointed his gun-muzzle on the boat.
"I think it is only a salute," said the priest, "though I must confess
I have never been so honoured before. They are harmless, hard-working
men, and all know me perfectly well."
He had scarcely finished speaking when the guns began to go off in
twos and threes and sixes, anyhow, in fact. Then the surgeon put away
his pistol and laughed, for there was not a splash on the water
anywhere.
"The Father was right; it's only a salute. Do they often do this?" he
asked of the nearest of the canoemen. "I've not seen it before."
The Indian looked very knowing and mysterious, and, after a pause,
answered:
"It is a royal salute. They only fire like this for a great Iroquois
chief, or for a messenger from the white king."
Very soon another succession of reports came, the guns all the while
trained so accurately on the boat that even Bigsby, fresh from three
years' constant active service at the Cape, began earnestly to hope
that no one had, in the excitement of the moment, dropped a bullet
into a gun-muzzle by mistake. Before the muskets could be loaded a
third time the travellers were safely at the landing-stage.
At other Indian villages the doctor had noticed that the priest was
always subjected to lengthy greetings, speechifyings, and very
elaborate homage. The homage and the greetings were not absent to-day,
but they were of the hurried and perfunctory sort, for everyone, after
a word and an obeisance to his reverend fellow-traveller, turned to
Bigsby himself; and the old chief, coming forward with tremulous
respect, began to address a long oration to him, calling him the lord
of lakes and forests, the father of the red man, the slayer of beasts,
and a score of other titles; in short, "describing him ever so much
better than he knew himself," as John Ridd says. While he was
stammering out a suitable acknowledgment in French, the parish priest
came hurrying to greet his superior, and then the mystery was
explained, for Pere Tabeau introduced the lord of lakes, etc., to him
as plain "Surgeon Bigsby."
The old _cure_ laughed heartily.
"I understand. Your uniform is responsible for all this, monsieur.
Your boatmen had told us that an ambassador from the king was coming
with the Pere Superieur." He pointed at the doctor's regimental
coat.
"Then that is why all the canoemen have been so distant and servile
with me to-day," said the young surgeon. "I've not been able to get a
word out of them."
Usually he wore a perfectly plain, blue relief-jacket, but on this
particular morning he had donned a very old scarlet tunic, of the
dragoon regiment to which he belonged, merely because the day happened
to be too chilly for the thin serge jacket, and not cold enough for
him to trouble about unpacking a winter coat; and if this had raised
him in the canoemen's estimation, he had been quite unconscious of it.
As a matter of fact, when the Indians left the boat that morning, they
had already made of him a British potentate who was at last throwing
off his disguise, and this they honestly believed him to be; but,
before the morning was out, their imagination had run away with them
so far as to promote him to the rank of envoy extraordinary; in other
words, they had exaggerated, as more civilised people sometimes will,
for the sake of a little reflected greatness.
"Mr. Rocheblanc," said the doctor, "if you will lend me a spare coat
till I unpack to-night, I think I can sweeten that chief's declining
years."
A coat was soon produced, and, to the wonderment of the Indians,
Bigsby removed the old tunic which, with a grave bow, he begged the
old chief to accept as a memento. So great, indeed, was the surprise
of the redskins that the donor was in no danger of the contempt which
they might otherwise have shown for a broken idol--a daw despoiled of
its peacock's plumage. Such liberality was stupefying.
But the chief was not to be outdone in self-sacrifice. After a
tremendous struggle with himself he stifled his vanity and desire for
possession, and turning to the old parish priest, begged him to wear
the garment, as being more worthy of the honour; nor was it till he
was made to understand that, neither in nor out of church, would it be
seemly for the staid old clergyman to go flaunting in a cavalry
officer's scarlet and gold, that the chief would consent to wear it.
And then his appearance and his self-satisfaction were such that none
of the white men dared look at him for long, lest they should hurt the
dear old fellow's feelings by a burst of laughter.
The gift led to an invitation to dinner from the chief, so persistent
and impassioned that it was impossible for the visitors to refuse it,
though the _cure_ had a meal awaiting them at his presbytery. And now
the doctor was to achieve even greater popularity, for the _cure_, who
usually acted as village surgeon and herbalist, took the opportunity
of asking his advice in the case of a baby of one of the parishioners
that suffered from what seemed to be incurable fits. Bigsby at once
went to examine the child and recommended the application of a little
blistering lotion to the back of the neck; he sent to the boat for his
medicine-case, gave the _cure_ a small supply of the lotion, and
instructed him how to make more. This was, of course, the signal for
everyone in the village to require doctoring. Ailments were discovered
or invented with astonishing rapidity, and the whole time, till dinner
was ready, was occupied in feeling pulses, drawing teeth, lancing
abscesses, and salving sores. But if the surgeon had been a vain man,
the reverence paid to his skill would have been ample reward.
At last the white men were conducted in state to the chief's hut. The
dinner was laid on the floor, and mats and cushions arranged round it
in a circle; the two priests sat on the chief's right, the doctor and
Rocheblanc on his left, and his son opposite him, while the wife and
the daughter-in-law brought in, helped, and handed round the various
courses. The first of these was _sowete_, a really villainous
concoction of bruised sunflower seeds, _camash_ (a very insipid kind
of truffle), and the gristly parts of some fish-heads, all boiled
together to the consistency of porridge. Of this the guests ate
sparingly, and of the next course not at all, though it looked and
smelt so inviting that Bigsby and the fur-trader would have done full
justice to it, had it not been for a warning look from Pere Tabeau,
and the ejaculation of the single word "Puppy!" which was lost upon
the Indians, as they spoke only the Canadian _patois_ and their own
Iroquoian. The dish might have been a roasted hare; but Bigsby
suddenly recalled, with a shudder, having seen a fresh dog-skin spread
to dry on the outside wall of the hut. But the remaining courses were
unexceptionable: various fish, a kind of grouse, venison, and a right
good beefsteak to finish with.
The chief implored his guests to stay for at least one night, but the
mission superior had an appointment early the following day; and,
when he had inspected the parish books, all returned to the boat,
conducted by the red-habited chief. At the landing-stage the canoemen
were busy stowing away presents which half the parish had brought
down for the mighty medicine man: fruits of all kinds, small
cheeses, carvings on horn, bone, and wood, and--to Bigsby's great
delight--several lumps of nickel and copper ore and some bits of
gold quartz. These he knew were to be found in the vicinity,
though he had not yet succeeded in discovering them; and here were
valuable specimens which he might have spent weeks in trying to find.
As a good deal of time had been lost, no halt was made that night,
each man sleeping in the boat, where and when and how he could; and,
long before noon of the following day, the next stopping-place was
reached. This was a small fur-trading centre where Rocheblanc also had
affairs to transact; and he and Pere Tabeau went about their
respective business, agreeing to meet the doctor at the boat at three
o'clock.
Bigsby, having nothing special to do, explored the tiny settlement
and, strolling a mile inland, collected one or two geological
specimens. This occupation attracted a knot of Indian idlers, who
stood gaping at the childishness of a white man who could find nothing
better to do than picking stones off the road, throwing them down
again or putting them in his pocket, and varying these puerilities by
producing a hammer and knocking chips off unoffending wayside
boulders. Geologists and painters are too much accustomed to being
stared at, as marvels or lunatics, to heed such curiosity; and it was
not till he heard a strident voice in French, ordering the Indians to
go away, that he even troubled to turn his head.
"_Sales chiens_," "_salauds_," and "_sacres cochons_" were the mildest
terms that were being hurled at the simple redskins by an over-dressed
and much-bejewelled being whose European toilette could not conceal
the fact that he was a negro-Indian (or a Zambo, as he would have been
termed farther south), with possibly a streak of white blood in him.
"Out of the way, reptiles, redskinned animals," he shouted. "White
gentlemen don't want to be pestered by you," and pushing his way
roughly through the little crowd, he came and stood by the scientist,
bestowing on him a most princely bow and a gracious smile.
Now as Bigsby had not sought this very loud young man's acquaintance,
and wouldn't have had it at any price he could have offered him, he
took no notice of him beyond a civil nod, and returned to his task of
examining a chip of quartz with a pocket-lens. But the Zambo, having
established the fact that he was "somebody" in these parts by driving
away the shrinking natives, endeavoured to press on the doctor a card
that bore a string of names beginning with Cesar Auguste and ending
with the historic surname of de Valois. Convinced that the man was not
sober, and unwilling to be the centre of a disturbance, Bigsby turned
away with a curt "good morning" and followed the retreating Indians.
At three o'clock he returned to the boat. The others were already in
their places, and sitting next to Rocheblanc was a coloured person,
resplendent in white hat, fur-collared surtout, and an infinite
number of waistcoats, pins, brooches, chains, and rings; Dr. Bigsby's
acquaintance of a few hours before.
"I took the liberty of inviting Mr. de Valois to join us as far as the
next station, where he has business," said Rocheblanc, who, like the
Indians, seemed more or less in awe of the stranger. Bigsby concealed
his annoyance and comforted himself with the reflection that the next
station would be reached in less than three hours' time. It turned out
that the fellow was a millionaire fur-buyer, with whom Rocheblanc had
often done business and wished to do more, and who, from his great
size, his wealth, his powers of bullying, and his pretensions to white
blood, was a terror to all the more civilised Indians. To the doctor,
as a "king's officer," he condescended to be more friendly than was
desired; but his manner towards the two Canadians was insufferably
patronising, while a curse or a kick was the sole form of notice he
could spare for the canoemen, and that only when they happened to
splash him. Father Tabeau and the doctor pocketed their disgust as
well as they could, and Rocheblanc endeavoured to hold his guest
tightly down to business conversation. The worst of it was that the
canoemen, though strong, able fellows, seemed fascinated by their fear
of him, and had it not been still broad daylight, a serious accident
might have happened to the boat. Even as it was, the men paddled
nervously and irregularly, more than once getting her into a
crosscurrent, and growing only more frightened and helpless as the
half-breed became noisier and more abusive.
[Illustration: A BULLY WELL SERVED
The over-dressed Zambo, after bullying the canoemen to the verge of
mutiny, was ordered by Bigsby to leave the canoe. The bully clenched his
fist, but Bigsby planted a powerful blow on his throat, and sent him
right over the gunwale.]
"There'll be trouble if we're not careful, Father," said Bigsby in
English, now at the end of his patience. "If you'll allow me I'll try
and get rid of him."
He made a sign to the Indians to pull sharply in, which Mr. de
Valois did not perceive. But, when the confused redskins suddenly
ran the boat among a number of projecting stakes, where an old
landing-stage had been broken up, the Zambo, splashed and shaken,
began to behave like a maniac. He jumped up, cane in hand, and
lashed the three nearest Indians savagely over the head and face,
swearing, gesticulating, and threatening till the doctor was minded
to pitch him into the water straight away.
"Steady her; hold by those stakes," he cried to the men in the bow,
who, being farthest from the stick, were the coolest. Then, throwing
himself between the half-breed and the canoemen, he said, "There's one
redskin too many here, my man, and I think _you'd_ better clear out,"
and at the same time he wrenched the stick from his hand and flung it
on shore.
The bully clenched his fist, but again Bigsby was too quick for him,
and planted a powerful blow neatly under his throat; he staggered,
tried to steady himself, and, in so doing, toppled clean over the
gunwale.
"All right; push off," said Bigsby coolly. "He's got plenty to catch
hold of there."
The water was still fairly deep, but the stakes were so numerous that
even a non-swimmer could be in no danger. The boat was soon in clear
water again, and Caesar Augustus could now be seen--a truly pitiable
figure--helping himself ashore from stump to stump, a sadder if not a
wiser man.
Bigsby never had the felicity of seeing him again, but he heard, some
months later, that his power over the redskins was very much
diminished, and that he had grown considerably less ready to domineer
over the race which certainly had more claim to him than any other.
CHAPTER V
CREEK INDIANS AT PLAY
A great deal of abuse has been poured, from time to time, on the
United States Government for its treatment of the North American
Indians. In point of fact, much of this abuse was quite undeserved,
for, as the well-known traveller, Captain Basil Hall, R.N., has shown,
constant endeavours were made by Congress to render the savages
self-supporting; large grants of money and land were given to those
who were dispossessed of their forest or prairie homes, and the
remainder were allowed and encouraged to preserve as many of their own
customs and laws as were not connected with blood-feud or revolt.
The redskins with whom Captain Hall came most in touch were the
Creeks, who--with the Choctaws, Chicasas, etc.--belong to the great
Muskhogean family, at one time the possessors of Kentucky, Tennessee,
Georgia, Alabama, and Florida. When the Captain first set foot in the
State of Georgia, in 1828, he knew little or nothing of the Indians,
save from books; and on entering upon the prairies near the Savannah
River, he was prepared for adventures thrilling and abundant. He and
his attendants were all well armed, for they had before them a lonely
ride that would occupy two days, to a small Government settlement on
the edge of a hilly forest, where they were to meet a United States
agent to whom the Captain had letters of introduction.
They rode all that day, however, without meeting a soul; and the
greater part of the next also. Then, as they crossed a stream which
formed a natural frontier between prairie and forest, smoke became
visible among the trees, and, shortly after, the travellers began to
catch glimpses, not of the wigwams which they had looked to see, but
of tarred log huts that were certainly not the work of unreclaimed
savages. But every man examined the loading of his firearms and
prepared to defend himself: a very needless precaution, as it turned
out. For, amid a confused barking of dogs and screaming of women, a
dozen or more redskins crept gloomily out from one or other of the
huts, and Captain Hall's heart sank in chill disappointment. Were
_these_ the noble savages whom, all his life, he had burned to see?
The "Black Eagles" and "Sparrowhawks" and "Pathfinders" of the
romance-writers?
The skinny, stooping, half-starved-looking group drew near. Not one
carried arms, not one appeared to have nerve enough to slay a spring
chicken; and the moment the white men reined up, all began a chorus of
whining appeals for tobacco, drink, or money, such as you may hear
from the gypsies along the Epsom Road. Hall hastily distributed some
small change and a handful of cigars and rode on again, having
scarcely the heart to look round on the dismal little village with
its scolding women, its disreputable fowls and dogs, and its little
company of loafing, unkempt men, the most energetic of whom could find
no more vigorous employment than the making of toy bows and arrows for
sale, or the listless sowing of seeds in ground that had never been
properly dug. And _these_ were the famous Creek Indians!
But compensation for the disappointment awaited him when, some hours
later, the forest path which he was following widened into a large
clearing where wigwams, as well as permanent huts, well-fed horses,
and camp fires announced at least a more virile and natural form of
life. A robust and well-dressed young white man came running out of
the first and largest of the huts and, greeting the Captain warmly,
introduced himself as the Government agent.
"Oh, pooh! They're not all so bad as that," he said when, seated over
a comfortable meal in the hut, Captain Hall dwelt on what he had seen
at the edge of the forest. "They're only the dregs and leavings. I'll
show you something different to that by and by. Poor beggars; I'm
afraid they've no one but themselves to thank for their condition."
"How do you make that out?" asked the Englishman.
"Well, when Congress claimed that bit of prairie land, these fellows
were given the patch where you saw them--and considerable money grants
as well. They went off to the towns and spent the money like children,
and when they hadn't got a red cent left, calculated to try farming. I
reckon you saw the sort of farming _they_ go in for, Captain. They're
too lazy to fell the trees, let alone grub out the roots or break up
the soil. We've given 'em corn for seed, but they only chaw it up and
then come back and ask for more. They had the option of coming out
here, but they ain't partial to forest hunting; they won't help
themselves, and they won't let us help them."
"But what's the good of their coming out here if you fellows are going
to turn them off when you think good?" asked the Captain.
The agent shrugged his shoulders. "Look here, sir, these chaps won't
be disturbed for another twenty years. The chiefs have had fair
warning, and if they don't turn to and help themselves before then,
it'll be their own look-out. Finer men you needn't wish to see--at
present."
Hall felt that the last remark was fully justified when, later in the
evening, his new friend conducted him to the middle of the clearing,
where the whole tribe had foregathered.
"Couldn't have come at a better time, Captain," said the Yankee.
"To-morrow's their Derby Day, University match, or whatever you like
to call it--the greatest day of the year. A team of up-forest Creeks
is now on the way to play against them at ball."
"Ball?"
"Ay, you'll see to-morrow. Come and be presented to the chiefs
now--and mind the dogs."
The caution was needful enough, for at the entry of every hut or
wigwam was a brace of half-wild Indian hounds, each fastened by a
thong to a stump, and ready to spring on the unwary.
"What's all the din about?" asked Hall, as they came to the village
square or _place_.
"Local band," said the American briefly, and just then they came upon
the gifted instrumentalists, two in number, though making noise enough
for two dozen. One "uneasy imp of darkness" was beating with his fist
a drum made of deer-skin stretched over a short length of hollow
tree-trunk; the other had a gourd, so dry that it resembled wood,
which contained a double handful of pebbles and which he shook as a
child shakes a rattle, only with more disastrous results to Christian
ears.
The "square" was formed by four long huts or pavilions, in one of
which sat an assembly of chiefs, cross-legged and smoking; and to
these the Captain was introduced with a good deal of ceremony. In the
middle of the quadrangle was an enormous fire of pitch-pine, and,
between it and the hut where Hall was now seated, were over twenty
young women, who sat--in accordance with local etiquette--with their
backs turned to the chiefs and visitors. These were the dancers, and
at a given signal they all rose, and went through some manoeuvres far
more tedious than interesting.
Perhaps the Englishman's face showed that he was bored, for the oldest
of the braves ordered the dancing to cease after a while, and
remarking to the agent that he had something in store that _would_
amuse the stranger, banged a copper vessel which did duty for a gong.
Immediately thirty fine young men sprang up from various quarters of
the court, and made a dash for a heap of sticks or clubs which lay
close to where the white men were sitting. Certainly these Indians
were a contrast to the poor wretches encountered at the edge of the
wood; every one of them looked as hard as iron and as agile as a puma.
Uttering fearful shrieks, and swinging their clubs round their heads,
they performed the wild sort of war-dance that Captain Hall had heard
of and had despaired of seeing, and followed it up with a series of
very ingenious and difficult somersaults, round and round the fire.
"That's only the first part of the preparation for to-morrow," said
the agent. "Come along, we must go to the town hall for the second."
They followed the chiefs to a very large circular hut beyond the far
side of the square, which was lighted and heated by another pitch-pine
fire; and they had no sooner sat down than the thirty athletes crowded
into the building and at once stripped off ornaments and clothes.
Supporting the roof were six stanchions, and to each of these one of
the Indians betook himself and stood embracing it. Then six of the
chiefs rose solemnly, and at once every voice was hushed. Each of
these had provided himself with a short stick, at the end of which was
a tiny rake--in some cases consisting of a row of garfish teeth, in
others of a dozen or more iron needle-points, with their blunt ends
stuck in a corn-cob. Every chief approached his man, and having
drenched him from head to foot with water, commenced an operation
calculated to set any civilised man's teeth and nerves on edge.
_Scroop-scroop_, sounded the rakes, like razors being drawn over very
bristly chins; and Captain Hall realised that these young men had
given themselves up to be scraped and scarified with the rows of
teeth. All stood quite passive while both thighs, both calves, and
both upper-arms were scored with cuts seven or eight inches in length,
the pleasantness of which proceeding may be gauged by the fact that,
in a few minutes, the victims were bathed in blood from heel to
shoulder.
"But what's it _for_?" whispered the Captain, fretted by the long
silence and the whole uncanny exhibition, as batch after batch of
athletes submitted themselves to the ordeal.
"They reckon it makes them more limber for to-morrow's performance,"
explained the agent. "They're the 'ball' team, you know."
Captain Hall had seen enough for one day, but early the next morning
he rode further into the forest with his guide, towards the playing
ground, some six miles away. This turned out to be another clearing--a
space two hundred yards by twenty, at either end of which were two
large green boughs stuck six feet apart in the earth, evidently meant
to act as some sort of goals.
Here was the ground, right enough, and batches of spectators were
continually adding themselves to those already in attendance. But
where were the players, and what were they going to play?
"They go to meet the other team," said the agent; "and they usually
take their time over getting here, for there'll be a score or two of
private fights, that have been carried over from last year, to settle
by the way."
When the white men had waited for more than two hours, they lost
patience and rode further into the forest in search of the rival
companies, guiding themselves more or less by the warlike howls that
proceeded from the distance. And presently they came upon the bulk of
the missing men, some walking in twos and threes, others stopping to
adjust private grievances with the strangers or their own people (they
did not seem particular), and a third contingent lying in the rank
grass, singing war-songs, sleeping, smoking, or bedizening themselves.
These latter, who had left the putting on of their bravery till the
eleventh hour, were painting their eyelids (one black and the other
yellow) and adorning their persons artistically with feathers and the
tails of monkeys or wild cats. Clearly it would be idle to suggest
their hurrying themselves; and the Captain and his conductor rode back
to the field very much at their leisure.
Shortly after midday, however, both teams arrived, and having
inspected the ground for a bare minute, made a sudden stampede, each
side for its own goal.
"There's one thing, they don't waste any time about beginning, when
they _do_ get here," said Hall relievedly, at which remark the agent
only grinned.
In another moment an appalling chorus of yells arose from the
neighbourhood of either goal, and both teams began to dance like
madmen, waving over their heads the sticks with which they were going
to play.
And now--imagine the Oxford and Cambridge crews, as a preliminary
to the race, gathering one on either bank and bawling derisively at
each other, cursing like bargemen and screaming themselves hoarse in
a struggle as to which side could make the more noise and utter the
grosser invective or the more offensive personalities. This is
what these unsophisticated savages were doing, and continued to do
for a good twenty minutes, the one lot recalling to the other's
memory former defeats or instances of foul play, the other replying
with both wholesale and individual charges of lying, theft, etc. Then,
when the abuse began to grow monotonous, it dropped suddenly; and, at
a sign from one of the chiefs, both parties advanced to the centre
and laid down their sticks. These were bits of well-seasoned wood,
two feet long and split at one end, the fork thus made being laced
across with sinew or skin, so forming a small and very rough sort
of tennis-racquet.
A deputation of braves advanced, examined the sticks severally, and
carefully counted the men (thirty on each side), and, this being done
to universal satisfaction, a chief harangued the teams for a quarter
of an hour, bidding them "play the game." Having finished his speech,
he told them to pick up their sticks--each player had two--and go to
their places; whereupon they distributed themselves much as we should
do at football or hockey, each goal, however, being guarded by _two_
men. When all were ready the committee of elders passed the ball from
hand to hand, each inspecting it gravely to see that it satisfied the
regulations. It was a soft, rough edition of an ordinary cricket-ball,
being made of raw hide, neatly stitched, and stuffed with horse-hair.
By this time Hall had begun to understand why his companion had
smiled so subtly at his anticipation of a speedy commencement. They
had tethered their horses some distance away, and had secured for
themselves a point of vantage near the scorers. At last the old chief
threw the ball in the air and beat a hasty retreat. As it fell it was
caught deftly by one of the home team between his two bats, and,
regardless of tripping, kicking, punching, and snatching on the part
of the other side, he began bravely to force a way towards the
opposite goal, backed up sturdily by his fellows, who were waiting for
him to throw the ball to them as soon as he saw himself brought to a
final stop by his adversaries. And thus the match proceeded, being--as
may be seen--not at all unlike our Rugby game; and whenever a goal was
scored by either team, the delirious shouting of the spectators might
have added to the impression of a modern onlooker that he was
witnessing a Crystal Palace cup tie.
But there were two respects in which their rules would have profited
by a little overhauling. We consider an hour and a half ample time for
a match to last; but, though Captain Hall watched the Indians' game
for five hours, it was not quite finished when he left. Twenty "was
the game," and any footballer knows that that number of goals is not
to be scored all in a hurry, when both teams are equally active,
powerful, and skilled men. The scoring, by the way--or the counting of
the goals--was done by the two mathematicians of the tribe, each of
whom was supplied with ten sticks, and stuck one of them in the ground
every time a goal was gained by his side. The dear old gentlemen could
not count above ten, so, when the eleventh goal had to be marked, the
sticks were pulled up and the reckoning was begun a second time.
[Illustration: A GAME AT BALL
This game is a mixture of tennis, lacrosse, and Rugby football. The rules
are few and simple, the object being to gain possession of the ball by
any means and hurl it between the goalposts of the opponents. The safety
or comfort of the onlookers is of no consequence whatever.]
The other direction in which the Indian laws cried loudly for
amendment concerned the spectators even more closely than the players.
There was no "touch" line, nor was the ball, no matter where it went,
ever regarded as _in_ "touch." With a pitch only twenty yards wide, it
will easily be seen that the ball was, from time to time, knocked or
thrown among the onlookers; but that was their own affair, argued the
players, who rushed pell-mell among them, screaming and struggling,
hitting or kicking, or trampling right and left.
Indeed, it was one of these wild rushes that was the means of bringing
Captain Hall's interest in the contest to an abrupt end. The ball had
come within a yard or two of him, plump between the two scorers, each
of whom wisely made an instantaneous dash into the open and so avoided
the onrush of the players. If Hall had had two more seconds at his
disposal he would have seized the ball and flung it into play again;
but the sportsmen were too near.
"Tree, tree," shouted the agent behind him; and waiting for no second
reminder, the active sailor sprang at the bough above him and hoisted
himself into safety just as the crowd swarmed over and half killed a
boy who was trying to follow him into the tree.
When the ball was safely on the other side of the ground he climbed
down.
"I'm going," he said resolutely.
They reached their horses and were riding slowly back towards the
village when shouts resounded behind them, eclipsing the loudest and
noisiest of any they had heard that day.
"The end of the game," said Hall. "Our side were nineteen when we came
away."
"Ay, the end of the game," assented the young American; "and the
beginning of the fighting. The losers are getting ready to whop the
winners. Are you keen on going back again?"
CHAPTER VI
WITH THE DELAWARES AND CREES
Sir George Head, elder brother of the great South American explorer
and Colonial Governor, was a sort of Ralegh on a small scale, inasmuch
as he figured in the various roles of sailor, soldier, traveller, and
courtier. The greater part of his time from 1814 to 1830 was spent in
and about Nova Scotia, Quebec, and Ungava, his military duties at
Halifax, as chief of the commissariat, giving him plenty of
opportunity for combining pleasure with business in long journeys
northward.
Late in the autumn of 1828 he set out on a tour north-westwards from
Halifax, intending to devote his six months' furlough to hunting among
the Cree Indians of New Brunswick and Eastern Quebec. It was not a
journey that would commend itself to people who love the sun and the
fireside, for though the district for which he was making is in the
same latitude as Cornwall, the average winter temperature may be put
down as 19 deg. F. A coach took him and his servant across country as far
as the Annapolis Basin, whence it was only a sixty-mile run by steam
packet to St. John; and here there was no difficulty in obtaining a
large canoe with three Delaware Indians to paddle it and act as
guides.
Of the St. John River, up which quite big steamers travel over two
hundred miles nowadays, comparatively little was then known, except
its lower reaches, and its source, which lies north-westwards in the
State of Maine; and even the Indian guides would not undertake to go
many miles beyond Fredericton.
"What do you mean by 'many miles beyond'?" asked Major Head, when, on
passing that town some days later, the Indians reminded him of their
contract.
"Ten miles, or perhaps fifteen. We are strangers beyond that, and,
though the Cree Indians are akin to us, they do not love us." This was
perfectly true, for the Crees, Blackfeet, and other of the less
civilised Algonquin redskins despised the Delaware Indians as mere
cockneys.
In the end, the guides promised that they would go as far as the next
town, which was twenty miles farther, admitting that they might
possibly have business there. The nature of that business soon leaked
out, for suddenly the Indian in the bow dropped his paddle, snatched
up a spear from a small bundle of those implements that lay to hand,
leant over the side, and brought up a salmon nearly three feet long.
The other canoemen at once abandoned their paddling and stood
expectant, spear in hand. The Major had never caught salmon in any
other way than with rod and line, and he, too, took up a spear,
determined to distinguish himself; but, though they waited patiently
for another hour, not a second fish was seen, and at length the
Indians picked up their paddles again and moved on.
"We may get some to-night," said one of them; "though it is almost too
late in the year. Nearly all of them have reached the sea by this
time, but it was worth our while to come so far on speculation.
Between Fredericton and the sea there is little chance of catching
anything, for the timber rafters frighten all the fish, so that they
seldom rise."
At evening they landed to make their camp for the night; but, soon
after supper, instead of lying down as usual, the Delawares announced
that they were going fishing. By way of a preliminary, each lighted a
substantial brand of pitch-pine, and, taking up their spears, got into
the boat again, Head following them. And this time there appeared to
be considerably more chance for the fishermen; the silence and
darkness and loneliness of the spot were, of course, in their favour,
but of even more importance were the torches, which would appeal to
the curiosity of any salmon that might be about. Even in daylight the
Indian fishermen more often than not regard a flame of some sort as a
necessary adjunct to their work.
Sport opened briskly and brilliantly. Long before the Englishman's
eyes had accustomed themselves to looking down into the water by this
constantly moving artificial light, the Indians had caught over a
dozen fish; and still the silly creatures came peeping to the surface
or hovering a few feet below it.
With the "beginner's luck" that is proverbial, the first salmon that
came within his reach fell an easy prey to the Major's spear, so easy,
in fact, that the redskins smiled broadly at his triumphant
satisfaction, for they knew that it was the one happy chance in a
million. He began to think so, too, when, time after time, he darted
the spear into the water without making a second catch. His eye and
hand were well trained to every kind of sport; and, of course, he knew
that hitting an object in water and out of water are two very
different things. Over and over again he would have taken an oath that
his spear had struck its mark, and yet it came up empty. He grew more
and more impatient and venturesome, and, in the end, naturally met
with the reward that he might have expected: lost his balance and went
heels over head into the water.
He was a bold and strong man who had faced danger and death in many
forms, but the icy chill of that water almost prompted him to scream
out; and, as it gurgled and bubbled over his ears, he decided that his
chance of ever getting out of it alive was but small, for he was
wearing top-boots, thick leather breeches, a seal-skin jacket, and a
heavy overcoat. Nevertheless, he struck out desperately and reached
the surface again. If he could only keep himself up for a few seconds
he was safe. At once catching sight of him, one of the Indians uttered
a shout, leant forward with his paddle, and held it towards the
drowning man. A couple of laboured strokes brought him near enough to
clutch the blade of it, and he was speedily drawn to the stern of the
boat.
"Hold there," cried the Indian. "No, don't do that," for Head was
trying might and main to draw himself up. As every swimmer knows, it
is not the easiest thing in the world to get into a light boat from
the water, even when one has no clothes on and is not numbed to the
very marrow with cold.
"What on earth are you trying to do?" he spluttered, as the other two
Delawares also took up their paddles. What they were about to do was
soon clear enough; they meant to tow him ashore, for suddenly the
paddles flashed through the water and, despite the weight behind it,
the canoe moved rapidly towards the bank.
"Wait a minute, you precious fools," gasped the Major wrathfully; but
they never so much as turned their heads. True, he had never seen a
canoe move so swiftly in all his life, yet those forty or fifty yards
to the bank were like miles, and when, springing ashore, two of the
Indians bent over to help him out of the water, he could scarcely use
his feet to scramble up the low bank.
"Why ever didn't you pull me out straight away, or keep still till I
got into the boat?" he asked, as he stood and shivered before the fire
while his man gave him a rub down with a blanket. The Delawares looked
grave and wise.
"You are a tall and a heavy man. You might have upset the boat--and
then we should have lost all our fish."
Sir George does not record the answer that he made to these
curmudgeonly rascals who preferred endangering a man's life to the
risk of losing a few salmon. But perhaps they were only having their
revenge on him for having spoilt their night's work by driving away
all the fish.
The next afternoon, fishing and paddling by turns, they came to a town
or village of some pretensions--the last on the river. Head again
tried to persuade the Indians to agree to go farther, but fruitlessly;
and their utmost concession was that, as one of their number was going
into the town to buy some goods while the others sold their fish at
the wharf, he would make inquiries about procuring new guides. The
Major sent his man across with the luggage to the only decent inn of
the place, and himself idled about the jetty, talking to the remaining
Indians and their customers.
"He has found a guide for you," said one of the Delawares at last,
pointing to a strange figure that came stalking along the quay behind
the third Indian.
The new arrival was a middle-aged man of such ferocious aspect that
Head fancied he could foresee trouble before they had gone far
together. He was one of the Crees, and his personal beauty--probably
never at any time great--was not improved by the scars and tattoo
marks that covered his face, arms, and chest. Cold though the weather
was becoming, he was naked, but for his moccasins and a sort of kilt
or petticoat made of feathers and deer-skin. His hair, also decorated
with feathers, extended to his waist, and he wore a string of odds and
ends round his neck: glass beads, teeth, bits of metal, coins, and
buttons. He carried a broad-bladed spear nearly eight feet high in one
hand, and an enormous club in the other, while from his neck or
shoulders hung bow, quiver, tomahawk, and two knives.
Head, who spoke the Algonquin dialect perfectly well, bade him give
some account of himself, and he replied, in a voice whose mildness
scarcely fitted his fierce and repulsive appearance, that he had
ridden down from his camp near Presque Isle (in Maine) to guide a
Yankee fur-trader across the New Brunswick boundary, and had now been
waiting two days on the chance of a similar job for his return
journey.
"Who did you suppose would be likely to be going up there from
_here_?" asked the soldier suspiciously.
"There are many French people who come from here to buy our furs. Is
it not true?" The new guide turned fiercely on the Delawares for
confirmation, and they nodded, making little effort to disguise their
fear of him. Hitherto they had generally shown themselves cool-headed
enough, but in the presence of this forest savage they seemed afraid
to say that their souls were their own.
Head reflected that he was becoming very tired of the river, and
further, that it might now be frozen hard any day. Moreover, it was
but a roundabout way of travelling compared to the forest, which,
being only of pine and spruce, offered none of the obstructions of
the creeper-clad woods farther south. Could he hire or buy horses?
he asked of a negro working close at hand. Ay, any number of
them; mustangs were being brought over the boundary every day by
enterprising Americans, and could be bought for a couple of
pounds a head.
"Very well, then." The Major turned to the Cree again. "Call for me at
the inn to-morrow morning at nine, and I shall be ready to start."
Arrangements were soon made as to horses, and Head, who had not slept
without his clothes for a week, and might not see a Christian bed for
weeks to come, went off to his room, resolved upon at least one
night's good rest. Coming down to his breakfast in the morning, he
found that his man had put out, cleaned, and loaded a pair of pistols
for him.
"Beg pardon, Major; most disreputable-looking party that guide, sir."
"Well--yes; we don't want to know too many of his sort. We'll keep an
eye on him in case he has some idea of leading us into an ambush; but
don't let him imagine that we suspect him."
Head had finished his breakfast and was strolling into the yard at the
back of the house to see if the horses were ready, when a violent
uproar arose in the bar, which was at the other end of the passage:
women screaming and running hither and thither, loafers shouting and
laughing. Yielding to natural curiosity, he turned back along this
passage and was just in time to see a stranger sight than he had ever
witnessed in all his six-and-thirty years. There, gesticulating,
stammering, and struggling, was the terrible Indian of the day before,
and, behind him, one hand firmly grasping his long hair, the other
buffeting him liberally over head and ears, was the landlady--a sturdy
Irishwoman--who was "helping him into the street," at the same time
expressing her opinion of him with great volubility. In her wake
followed two chamber-maids, each armed with a mop, and from one of
them the traveller learned that the Indian had already been forbidden
to enter the house on account of his drunken and riotous behaviour
there two days earlier.
"We only keep one manservant, and he's frightened of him, so Missis
had to take him in hand," explained the girl cheerfully.
The valiant brave made no second attempt to enter the inn, and stood
meekly by his horse till the travellers were ready, and Head--with
difficulty keeping a straight face--bade him lead on. They were soon
riding at a good level pace along the forest track, which, by its
narrowness and few signs of recent use, did not promise a meeting with
many travelling companions. At first the Indian only answered curtly
to the remarks addressed to him, but, little by little, he forgot the
insult to his dignity and had become quite chatty by the time they
stopped to rest the horses and eat the dinner which they had brought
with them. He said they would pass no more inns--no more white
habitations of any sort, in fact--till they came to the United States
boundary, and but very few then; and no Indian camps that side of
Presque Isle, which was still forty-five miles distant. From there the
travellers could, if they chose, journey as far as the St. Lawrence
with a party of Crees who would soon be starting away for the winter
hunting, and who would show them where they could get a boat across
the estuary.
They rode another twenty miles before sunset, and then halted for the
night. While the Indian was making the fire he several times glanced
round him to windward and sniffed the air suspiciously.
"There will be snow before morning," he said; and indeed, during the
past hour there had been well-nigh an Arctic chill in the air, though
it still wanted a week or two of the beginning of winter. That snow
was coming was bad hearing; not that two men, who had often slept
practically under water during the war in Spain, were likely to shirk
one night in the snow; but because they had not troubled to bring many
provisions, being unwilling to hamper themselves and relying on
finding abundance of game in the forest.
If a heavy snow should come, the chances of killing anything fit to
eat would be diminished tenfold, for hares, rabbits, and squirrels
would stay at home; and further, the journey towards a district where
they were safe to meet with plenty of animals (elk, caribou, etc.,
that had just migrated to the forest from farther north) would occupy
thrice the time they had allowed for it.
"You and I must take watch and watch to-night," said Head to his
servant, not unmindful, in face of new dangers, of the likelihood of
their guide's playing them false. "We don't want any of this good
man's 'surprises'; if you turn in when you've had your supper, I'll
call you soon after midnight and we'll change guard."
Immediately after supper the Indian rolled himself in his blanket and
Head was left to amuse himself. When his man roused him at six the
next morning, he found the ground more than a foot deep in snow, and
the Indian, who was just returning from filling the breakfast kettle
from the stream hard by, greeted him with the news that the ice was
several inches thick. But, he added, there would be no fear of famine;
they would have sport enough before the day was out.
"What sport?"
"Wolves!" The Cree smacked his lips as if he were speaking of a
Mansion House banquet.
"Ah! Then that is what I heard just as I was falling asleep."
"Most likely; their track lies all round our camp; not close, for they
feared our fire."
"Is there more snow to come, do you think?" None was falling now.
"Not unless the wind gets up again. But we ought soon to be moving; it
will be bad going for the horses."
The hardy little mustangs seemed not a whit the worse for their snowy
bed, and stepped out bravely as soon as they were mounted. But Head
pulled a long face as he remembered how little corn he had brought
with him; truly the cobbler's wife was going the worst shod; he who
had control of the entire military commissariat for that district had
left the food for his men and horses to chance, on a journey of sixty
miles, twenty-five of which had still to be covered! Of course, the
pace they made was wretched, for the snow was fetlock-deep at the
best; and, at the worst, it had risen to drifts of ten feet, which had
to be dodged or skirted. Three miles an hour was the utmost that could
be expected, making allowances for everything; and by the time the
horses had gone twelve miles, it was clear that they must have a
rest.
"So our next meal is to be wolf, eh?" said Head as he surveyed a lump
of salt beef of which none would be left when three men with
frost-sharpened appetites had eaten their fill. The Indian nodded.
"And they are not far away; I have heard them for the last hour. The
horses can smell them now; you will find that they will not touch
their oats." This was true; two of the tethered animals crouched
shiveringly, disdaining their food, while the third strained at his
halter as though he meditated flight.
"What does it matter?" said the Cree. "We have but thirteen miles to
go; we shall be at our camp soon after dark, and my people will be as
brothers to you. As for the wolves--" he laughed boastfully--"I will
kill them by the dozen if need be."
"Yes; we've seen something of your bravery before," said the Major in
English. He divided the one remaining loaf and the meat into three
equal parts. "You two can do as you like; I shall only eat half my
share now."
The servant followed his example, but the Indian was resolved that the
future should take care of itself. He had scarcely swallowed his last
mouthful when he started up.
"Mount! Quick! They are coming!"
"Then what's the good of mounting, you infernal coward?" said the
Major, snatching up his gun. "We can't race wolves."
The guide made no answer; but, slipping his horse's halter, vaulted to
his back, and might have ridden away but that Head turned his
gun-barrel on him.
"You stay where you are.... Now, Sanders, we must keep them off the
horses if we can. Fire the moment they show their noses, and trust to
their eating up their brothers while we----_Look out!_"
A pack of over forty wolves came yelping through the trees, with a
strange, bouncing motion which showed that even they were seriously
impeded by the snow.
"Fire; and keep one eye on the redskin," muttered Head.
A wolf went down before the servant's first barrel and, from the break
in their ranks, several of the others appeared to be falling on the
carcase. A second and third and fourth fell to the guns; but the
wolves had smelt horse-flesh, and neither noise nor gunpowder nor dead
comrades could keep them from following up the scent. The two white
men reloaded, fired, and loaded again with the coolness habitual with
soldiers; but it was plain enough that the pack would not be kept off
much longer.
"I'm afraid we shall have to give up the horses after all," said Head,
as the foremost wolves bounded contemptuously past or over the last of
their number that had been shot.
"Why do you not mount?" bawled the Indian in his ear. Head had
forgotten his existence for the moment. "That is the only way to save
your horse. You have had your play; let me show you what the red man
can do." As he finished speaking he methodically pulled his quiver
forward and began to pour arrows into the howling pack more swiftly
than the eye could follow them, every one of them carrying death to a
wolf.
"Up, Sanders, and use your pistols! By Jingo, that fellow was right!"
shouted Head as he leapt into his saddle.
"You see? It is quite easy," remarked the Indian with as much
_sang-froid_ as though he were at target-practice. "When I have
emptied my quiver they will all be dead; if not, I have my lance.
Don't waste any more of your powder." And all the while he went on
shooting.
The soldiers could do little but stare at the man's amazing coolness;
he who had writhed and screamed when attacked by an irate Irishwoman,
was now killing wolves at the rate of about twelve per minute, and the
only time he broke off from his task was to draw his knife and stab
that one of the wolves that was bold enough to venture a spring at his
horse. It was plain enough that he had known what he was talking about
when he counselled mounting the horses. Wolves that would tear an
unridden horse to shreds would not dare touch one that was mounted,
unless they were maddened by hunger; and so early in winter this could
hardly be the case.
"Yah! Now run away, cowards, and tell your brethren to come," shrieked
the Cree, when, without waiting for his last few shots, the remaining
dozen wolves turned tail and skulked away. Then Head stretched out his
hand and patted the blanketed shoulder.
"Well done; I did wrong to call you coward. You shall have double
payment when we reach your camp, and I will make you a present of
these two horses."
"We must have my arrows back, in case of further accident," said the
redskin, making neither much nor little of his achievement. In a few
minutes he had cut all the barbs from the carcases, and proceeded to
skin the three primest wolves, cut away the fore and hind quarters,
hung the three "saddles" on his horse's withers, and remounted. The
Cree Indians and the Eskimos will none of them refuse roast wolf, and
the ribs are considered a special delicacy.
With a little coaxing from the guide the horses now ate their corn;
and, not long after dark, that much misjudged individual led his
employer proudly into the Indian camp. The chief, very much astonished
at finding a white man able to speak his tongue with fluency,
promised, in return for a ridiculously small sum of money, to allow
the travellers to join his great hunting party which was to start
northwards for elks, caribous, etc., in a few days' time.
During those few days Major Head had an opportunity of noting various
ceremonies peculiar to the northern Indians, which were quite new to
him. One of these was a dance which signified a loving farewell
between the hunters and the warriors who remained behind to guard the
camp, and was precisely the same as that which Samuel Hearne saw
farther north-west.[1] In this, the two parties formed into two single
files, and, bow in the left hand and an arrow in the right, approached
each other, walking backwards. When the lines were almost touching one
another, both turned suddenly, each party starting back with feigned
surprise at seeing the other; then, with astonishing quickness,
transferred the bow to the right hand and the arrow to the left, in
token that their intentions were strictly friendly.
[1] See "Adventures in the Arctic Regions." (Seeley and Co., 1909.)
The other ceremony was also a dance, the celebrated snow-shoe dance,
which took place when all was ready for the departure northwards; and
in this Head was especially interested, because he was himself an
expert on "shoes." Two or three spears, elaborately decorated with
feathers or other trophies of the chase, were stuck upright in the
snow, and to one of them a pair of snow-shoes was hung; and, after
prayers and incantations by the old chief, ten mighty men of the
tribe, each carrying his weapons, formed themselves in a ring round
the spears. Waddling, sliding, dancing, or jumping, these passed round
and round the consecrated shoes till all were satisfied that the Great
Spirit's aid had been enlisted, and that the ghosts of the animals or
birds that they might kill would never return to vex the slayers.
[Illustration: THE SNOW-SHOE DANCE OF THE RED INDIANS
A religious ceremony at the opening of the winter hunting season.]
CHAPTER VII
AMONG THE FUEGIAN INDIANS
Tierra Del Fuego--"The Land of Fire," as Maghelhaens christened it,
from the number of beacons exhibited along its coast--is the home of a
family of Indians properly known as Pesherahs. Whence they came no one
can tell us, though some think them to be of Chilean origin; but they
are--and have been, during the last four centuries--among the most
degraded savages that the earth holds. This is, no doubt, partly owing
to the barrenness of the archipelago and the almost animal simplicity
of their lives which is a consequence of it; for though their brain
development is certainly not extraordinary, it is probably as high as
that of many savages who have yielded with comparative readiness to
European influence.
All sorts of efforts at civilising the Fuegians have been made by
philanthropists, scientists, and missionaries, but it is to be feared
that they have met with little success. Not the least practical of
these was an experiment made by the late Admiral Fitzroy, inventor of
the nautical barometer that bears his name, and better known to
readers in general as Darwin's friend and at one time commanding
officer.
From 1826 to 1830 this clever young sailor was in command of H.M.S.
_Beagle_, which, with H.M.S. _Adventure_, was sent on a surveying
expedition to the southern seas. During the early part of this cruise,
while an exploring party was ashore in what is now called Beagle
Channel, a number of Fuegians took advantage of the absence of the
sailors to spring into their boat and row off with it.
Not wishing to lose the boat, and deeming it advisable to give the
natives a lesson, Commander Fitzroy took another pinnace ashore and,
with half a dozen bluejackets, made a descent on the nearest
encampment, captured the first family he could lay hands on, and took
them back to the brig to be held in pawn for the stolen boat. This
move, of course, answered its purpose; the boat was restored and the
hostages liberated. But of these there were three to whom the
commander had taken a special fancy: a stalwart young fellow of
nineteen whom (from the adjacent mountain which Cook had so named) he
had dubbed "York Minster," and a boy and girl of about fourteen. York
and the girl, Fuegia, on being asked if they would like to come to
England, joyfully accepted the offer; and the other boy was readily
exchanged by his father for a pearl shirt-button.
The enthusiastic young commander brought these three home with him,
endeavoured to teach them English, and dressed them respectably; and
after he had been ashore for about two years, decided to take them
back to their country as a pattern to their friends and relations. He
engaged a missionary--a Mr. Matthews--and was on the point of
chartering a small vessel and taking the natives back at his own
expense, when, to his joy, he heard that his old brig was to be sent a
second time to the Horn and that he, now gazetted post-captain, was to
have command of her. It was on this voyage that he took with him, as
naturalist, Charles Darwin, a young fellow not long down from
Cambridge.
In December, 1832, the brig anchored in the Bay of Good Success, and
her arrival was hailed by a tatterdemalion group of Fuegians who piled
their fires high and frantically waved their scanty garments as though
to scare off the intruders. These people of the eastern side of the
island were a far more robust set than the typical Fuegians of farther
west; many of them were over six feet high, and all boasted some sort
of clothing--usually a mantle of guanaco (llama) skin. Fitzroy and
other officers went ashore, bearing presents, at sight of which the
savages abandoned their distrustful and defensive bearing and showed
every willingness to be friendly. Their chief had his hair confined by
a rough head-dress of feathers, and his coppery face was painted with
transverse bars, after the fashion of the Indians of the North.
The Englishmen distributed pieces of red cloth, which each recipient
immediately tied round his neck. Thanks for these bounties were
offered in a series of "clucks," which a horse would assuredly have
translated as "gee-up"; and further, by sundry pats on the breasts of
the donors. After Captain Fitzroy had been thus patted three times by
the chief, it occurred to him to return the compliment, a proceeding
which highly delighted the whole tribe. But the most exciting scene
was when one of the sailors left in charge of the boat began to sing
absently to himself. In an instant the Indians deserted the group of
officers, rushed madly down the beach again, and almost grovelled
before the singer, considerably to his amazement.
"All right; sing up, my man; let'em hear you," cried Captain Fitzroy
encouragingly; for the bashful performer had stopped somewhat abruptly
on finding himself thus distinguished. "Bear a hand, you lads; he's
shy."
Thus urged, the grinning bluejackets struck up a rousing sea-chorus,
the effect whereof was to make even the important-looking chief stand
open-mouthed and wave his hands in wonder and delight.
As the first meeting with the savages had been so successful, on his
second landing the Captain was accompanied by York Minster and the
other two natives, Jemmy Button, now a strapping fellow of eighteen,
and Fuegia Basket, already a grown woman, and betrothed to York. The
Indians' attitude towards them was one of curiosity as intelligent as
such people are capable of. They felt their English-made clothes and
compared them half contemptuously with the bright-buttoned uniforms of
the officers, and the chief, pointing to a few straggling hairs on
York Minster's chin, inquired why he did not shave them off after the
Indian fashion. The colour of their visitors was the greatest mystery
to them. Jemmy and York were dressed like white men, and had short
hair, and yet were not white. York knew their language and Jemmy did
not. This was very puzzling. Then--was Jemmy the same colour "all
over"? The chief made him strip his sleeve, but while this was being
done something else happened to distract the savages' attention. Mr.
Bynoe, the ship's surgeon, had been examining one or two bad sores on
the face of a native, and now stepped back to a rock-pool to wash his
hands.
That a man should dream of washing at all was a mystery to the
Fuegians (in fact, during the whole of the brig's cruise in these
islands the practice never failed to attract admiration, though it
does not seem to have gained converts), but the doctor had thrown off
his pilot-jacket and rolled up his shirt-sleeves for the performance.
This more than staggered the beholders, so that Jemmy saw himself
rudely neglected; for the Englishman's arms were a different colour
from that of his hands!
It was the white men's turn to be inspected again. Everyone, from the
Captain to the boat's crew, was implored to show his arms, and this
only led to further mystification, for while the hands of the officers
were tanned and their arms white, the brown on the seamen extended to
the elbows. A full parliament was at once held, but the debate had to
be abandoned; the matter was too abstruse for the Fuegian brain.
Mr. Darwin created a diversion by attracting the Captain's attention
to a very tall fellow among the group; and to settle an argument
between them as to his abnormal height, Fitzroy called to him the
tallest of the boat's crew, and told him to stand back to back
with the rival giant. With the natural vanity of the savage, the
Fuegian seemed to guess in a moment what was being said about him,
and no sooner was he placed back to back with the seaman than he
endeavoured, first to edge himself on to higher ground, and,
failing that, to stand a-tiptoe. When York Minster explained to him
that he was the taller by two finger-joints, he began to swagger
about as if he had bought the island.
The old chief was very anxious that the three natives should at once
take up their abode with that portion of the tribe; but neither Jemmy
nor Miss Fuegia could yet make themselves understood; the parents of
all three lived on the other side of the island, and further, the
Captain was not at all satisfied that the chief's hospitality arose
from any higher motive than that of plunder, if not murder.
With a favouring wind they ran through the Strait the next day, and
once more went ashore. Here Fitzroy found that his former visit had
presumably been forgotten; for when he led an exploring party of
thirty men into the nearest camp, the natives armed themselves with
slings, stones, and fish-spears, and assumed altogether a very
threatening front. These folk were the most debased of the islanders;
not one man had a stitch of clothing on him, and whereas the other
natives had shown such terror of the bluejackets' muskets that they
would not even lay a finger on them, these were not even inquisitive
as to the weapons of the white men, and certainly mistook the amiable
demeanour of the strangers for timidity. They dropped their arms,
however, on some offerings of red ribbon being made.
But possession only whetted greed; and taking up their arms again,
they began one and all to bawl "Yammerskooner," which, York Minster
said, meant "give me," but which sounded a great deal more like "your
money or your life!" The more the sailors gave, the more did the
Indians pester, till, with the hope of scaring them away, Fitzroy drew
his sword and flourished it round the head of the chief; but he and
those with him laughed jeeringly, as though this were only child's
fooling. Then the Captain, who was an excellent shot, pointed a pistol
at--or rather half an inch above--the head of the noisiest of the
party, and fired.
Every man stared at his neighbour; every man clapped his hands to his
ears and uttered an ejaculation; but nobody thought of moving. Poor
wretches; they were as ignorant of danger as the wild beasts.
"No good, Captain Sir," said York Minster. "But you kill one--then all
run."
"Tell them they're likely to get hurt if they go too far," said the
Captain. The interpreter obeyed, but they showed no more feeling at
his remark than fear of the pistol.
It was growing late; the Englishmen were hungry and had yet to find a
comfortable ground for the night's bivouac. Fitzroy quietly told his
men to draw off; but at the first movement of retreat, the savages
grew bolder and more menacing. Nothing could be much more galling to
Englishmen than retreat under such circumstances as these. Here were
thirty white men, all well armed, and the majority of them experienced
fighting-men, turning their backs on less than a hundred miserable
specimens of humanity with scarcely brains enough to know the use of
their own weapons. The faster the sailors moved, the faster the
Indians followed. To kill one or two of their number would have been
to put the rest to flight; but unless actual violence should be
offered, neither Fitzroy nor any of his companions were the men to
disgrace their flag by the sort of "fighting" which has made the
Spaniards and Dutch hated in East and West.
Arrived at a good spot, the Captain called a halt, and ignoring his
persecutors, ordered a large fire to be made, and posted sentries at
various points round the camp; then told York to try his eloquence
with the natives once more. Meanwhile the stores were unpacked, and at
sight of the strangers eating, a new begging chorus arose which was
fortunately satisfied by a small distribution of ship's biscuit.
At dark the natives were ordered out of the camp and warned by York
that they must not attempt to pass the sentries. That lesson was
impressed on the more obstinate by the sailors' throwing them "neck
and crop" beyond the boundary line. This sort of argument they could
understand; and though some of them loitered round the camp all night,
or lit their own watch-fires close to it, there were no attempts at
trespass.
Young Jemmy Button, on being rallied by the officers on his
disreputable connections, stoutly disowned them; he belonged to
another tribe, he said. But soon after sunrise several dozen strange
men and women appeared, summoned by the remainder, and among them were
Jemmy's mother and brethren. Darwin, who witnessed the reunion, says,
"the meeting was less interesting than between a horse turned out
into a field and an old companion." But those women who recognised
Fuegia showed themselves very interested in her toilette.
It was now that the value of Fitzroy's experiment was to be tested.
Matthews, the missionary, asked to be left behind with three
natives while the sailors continued their coasting trip; and it
was plain enough that York and his bride and Jemmy asked nothing
better than to be allowed to settle among their own people, from
whom they had now been absent four years. Already Jemmy was
recalling his language--which was a great mercy for him, for, as
Fitzroy had said earlier, "he had forgotten Fuegian and never more
than half learned English, so that he was as ignorant as a rational
being could well be."
The Captain's surveying expedition lasted for some days, and when it
was finished he ordered the boats to call at the spot where the
missionary had been left, before they returned to the _Beagle_.
Mr. Matthews was awaiting them in a terrible plight: scarcely a rag of
clothes on him, hungry, bruised, and wounded, and with a wretched tale
to unfold. Jemmy had been robbed of everything he possessed; even
York, strong man though he was, had had much ado to protect himself
and his wife, while the missionary, left to fend for himself, had not
dared to sleep during the whole time. He had been robbed, stoned,
threatened with all manner of violence, and only saved from death by
doling out buttons, studs, or coins which he had contrived to
secrete.
Fitzroy, who knew that these people were not only ruffians but
occasionally cannibals as well, sent the missionary on board again,
and was half tempted to take Jemmy with him also, particularly as the
young man was loud in abuse of his family; but on the whole he was
likely to be safe enough under York's patronage now that he had
nothing left to steal.
The brig made sail farther south, and a month or so later returned to
her old anchorage. Before long a canoe put off from the shore, and a
thin, haggard savage came paddling out to the vessel--Jemmy! Jemmy,
without a rag to cover him!
"I think, sir, you'll have to take him aboard again," pleaded young
Darwin.
"It does look like it," said Fitzroy. "I'm afraid we've made a fish
out of water of him," and the two went forward to greet their old
friend.
But Jemmy electrified everyone by the statement that he was
perfectly happy, and had only come out to bring a couple of
otter-skins to Lieutenant Sulivan and Dr. Bynoe--his favourites among
the officers--and some neatly-carved arrows for the Captain; and
further, to invite the ship's company ashore to visit the tribe.
Mr. Button was fed, and loaded with presents; and later in the day
Fitzroy, Sulivan, and Darwin went ashore. The first thing that was
apparent was that Jemmy had taught the tribe some English words; the
second was that that youth had reasons for not wishing to rejoin the
_Beagle_. For, pointing to a modest-looking girl who stood in the
background, the old chief tapped the Captain on the shoulder and
observed, "Jemmy's wife; Jemmy's wife," and the whole tribe,
parrot-like, took up the cry.
Fitzroy never met his proteges again; but, in 1842, Captain Sulivan,
who was cruising off the island, fell in with a British whaling
skipper, and he told him that his men had seen a native woman who
spoke excellent English. This could have been no other than Fuegia.
CHAPTER VIII
THE END OF THE "BLACK HAWK" WAR
Some allowance ought surely to be made for a man who is condemned to
go through life with such a name as Muckkertamesheckkerkerk; and, to
do the United States Government justice, the gentleman so styled seems
to have been treated with a good deal of patience and lenity.
"Black Hawk" (to give him at once the name by which he is better
known in American history) was an Indian chief who contrived to be
as much a thorn in the flesh of the white rulers of his country
as--let us say--some of the Welsh princes were in that of our
Plantagenet kings. He was born in 1767, and by the time he was
fifteen had so distinguished himself in war and in hunting that he
became a recognised brave of his tribe--the Sac and Fox. Up till
the year 1804 the new republic could afford to ignore the deeds and
misdeeds of this renowned patriot, for he confined most of his
energies to warfare with the Cherokees and Osages--sub-tribes of
the Iroquois; but, as white civilisation continued to push westward,
it became necessary either to conciliate or to subdue those who
stood in the way of its progress.
At first conciliation did not appear difficult. General Harrison
invited Black Hawk--now a man of four-and-thirty, and the recognised
champion of all the Algonquin Indian tribes--to appear at St. Louis,
in order to discuss the question of boundaries, and to enter into a
treaty which would be of mutual benefit. Black Hawk came, and with him
a host of tributary chiefs--Shawnees, Blackfeet, Sacs and Foxes, etc.
The American General's proposals were fair and to the point. The
redskins were to renounce all claim to about seven hundred miles of
land east of the Mississippi, in return for an annual payment of a
thousand dollars. A couple of hundred pounds as rental for a strip of
land some eight hundred miles long sounds ridiculous enough to us,
unless we bear in mind that the Indians were merely asked to keep to
the other side of the river; they were not giving up towns or houses
or cultivated lands; they were receiving what--to them--meant a very
substantial income, in return for their migrating to far better
hunting-grounds in Iowa and Minnesota. Black Hawk solemnly agreed to
the contract, with--we must believe--every intention of keeping his
word.
Unluckily, General Harrison and his officers had rather lavish notions
of hospitality; and when Black Hawk's decision was made known to the
other chiefs, most of them were a great deal too drunk to know what
they were agreeing to. The money was paid regularly enough, and, for
some few years, whatever breaches of the treaty there were, were so
trifling that the Government could easily wink at them. Black Hawk
went about his hunting and his civil warfare and conducted himself as
a respectable savage should.
Then he got into bad hands. As the troubles of our own armies in India
and the Soudan have shown, it is no uncommon thing to find peaceable
men stirred to fighting frenzy by some maniac who makes it his
business to cause as much strife as possible in the name of religion.
A great prophet had arisen among the Indians--a Shawnee, in whose
hands poor Black Hawk was wax; and who gave the redskins no rest till
they crossed the river in a body, and swept eastwards as far as
Michigan, driving the handful of white settlers back and back to the
towns from which they had come. This was in 1811. In the following
year, now thoroughly persuaded that he and all the chiefs and all the
white subscribers to the treaty were drunk when it was signed, and
that it was no longer binding, Black Hawk pressed on into Michigan as
far as Detroit. This was more than human patience could stand; the
white citizens turned out, and drove away the Indians with such
slaughter that their leader was only too glad to draw off. For four
years he confined his attacks to petty farm raids, and, in 1816,
signed another treaty, which was followed by fourteen years of
comparative peace, though Black Hawk and a few of his supporters
refused to retire across the river again.
By 1830 the States Government, realising its folly in having allowed
any deviation from the strict terms of the agreement, obliged Black
Hawk to sign another, by which every acre of land east of the river
became white property. It was now that the real trouble began. The
Indian chief was growing old, losing his former promptness of action,
and becoming more and more a slave to the Shawnee prophet's counsels.
During the fourteen years that he had been practically defying the
Government, he and his immediate adherents had begun to farm a little;
and just now their crops were ripening, and harvest-time was almost
due. When the order came for him to leave the neighbourhood he lost
his head or his temper, refused to stir, and threatened with death
anyone who dared to interfere with him. A week later he returned from
his hunting to find some white labourers calmly ploughing up his crops
and parcelling out his land. There was a brief scuffle, and the whites
were obliged to flee, and thus opened the last period of the war.
Knowing that vengeance would be taken, Black Hawk sent across the
river for more warriors, and prepared to make a decided stand. But
instead of the half-dozen shopkeepers and labourers he had been
prepared to meet, he found himself attacked by a body of men several
hundred strong, well armed, and many of them mounted. These were the
Illinois militia under General Gaines--hardy trappers, farmers, and
timber-rafters, whose fathers had fought with and defeated British
regiments. The Indians' nerve failed them, and, after a single deadly
volley from the militia, they fled. But, instead of crossing the
river, they went north, into Wisconsin, where they looked to find
remnants of their tribe who would ally themselves with them.
During the whole of the next year, and until the summer of 1832, a
very clever guerrilla warfare was carried on by the savages; hundreds
of white men were killed, and scarcely one Indian; nor was there much
in the shape of a pitched battle. It was then that General Atkinson,
an old and experienced fighter of Indians, was sent to put an end to
the whole matter. Dispatching a small force of light cavalry, under
General Scott, to search the woods, he marched the bulk of his little
army towards the Wisconsin River, in the hope of eventually
surrounding the Indians and capturing Black Hawk.
His march proved more tedious than he had bargained for. Nowadays
tired New Yorkers and Chicagoites, with a taste for sport, devote
their summer holidays to shooting over the beautiful Wisconsin
highlands; but in 1832 there were no railways or palace-like hotels
there. Even a farm was a rarity, and every hill or ravine might
conceal a score of Indian sharpshooters. The whole aspect of the
country was savage, dreary, and forbidding. It had been the duty of
the advance guard to see that there were no redskins lying in ambush;
but General Atkinson soon began to think that that duty had been very
much neglected, for at almost every mile an arrow or a bullet came
from nowhere, wounding some man or horse, and in one case killing a
Sioux guide. This kind of thing continued for a couple of days or
more; and Atkinson had begun to say somewhat hard things of his
colleague when one of the scouts rode up to report a mound of earth
which, he said, looked very much like a grave. Before the day was out,
six more such mounds had been seen by the wayside, and as most of them
were marked by a cross, hastily made with a couple of sticks, it was
all too probable that these were the graves of white men.
The old soldier's mind was soon made up.
"We must get double work out of our horses, boys," he said; "there'll
be no camping to-night; I'm going to overtake General Scott."
All sorts of possibilities suggested themselves, the most prominent of
which was that they were coming to a district more thickly populated
by Indians, who had been picking off Scott's men with increasing
rapidity; for the last four graves were ominously close together.
Scouts were doubled and, so far from making any pretence of a stealthy
march, lanterns and torches were lit, and every hiding-place hurriedly
examined. The night passed without any sign of Indians; but, soon
after daybreak, three or four columns of smoke were seen rising from
behind a hill that lay in the line of march. Half a dozen scouts
galloped forward and soon disappeared. Atkinson's men closed up,
baggage-waggons were dragged to the centre, and in a moment everyone
was prepared either to charge or to repel a charge.
In less than five minutes a single horseman appeared on the top of the
hill and clattered down the slope. Atkinson spurred his horse and
hurried to meet the messenger--one of the six scouts.
"Well?" he shouted when he was within earshot.
"General Scott--cholera--had to give up!" was the cheering intelligence.
"Forward!" shouted Atkinson, and the company hastened over the hill,
at the foot of which a pitiable state of things awaited them. Soon
after the start of Scott's troops, cholera, in its most malignant
form, had broken out among the party. In less than two days seven men
were dead, and now the remainder had been obliged to abandon their
march, for there was scarcely a trooper of them who was not more or
less afflicted by the horrible malady. As some little consolation
for these tidings, General Scott reported that he had dislodged a
party of Sac and Fox Indians from a ravine, and that these had
fled collectively towards Bad Axe River.
Leaving behind the few men that he could spare to guard and nurse the
sick, Atkinson hastily drew his force to a safe distance from the
cholera camp, and, after a few hours' rest, marched for the nearest
reach of the river, and along the bank, northwards.
Indian chasing does not permit of lengthy rest; the cavalry did not
stop again till long after nightfall, and were off again before dawn.
That afternoon, as they came to a wider strip of river, the General
realised--and not for the first time--that it is the unexpected that
usually happens. Barely a mile ahead, a schooner, towed by three
cutters, was moving slowly northward. Atkinson galloped ahead, but
before he had overtaken the vessel the men in the boats had long
ceased rowing, and she was heading more towards the opposite bank.
"Who are _you_?" was suddenly shouted from her after-deck.
"General Atkinson. Who are you, and what are you about here? Seen any
Injuns?"
"The _Warrior_--Captain Throckmorton.--All right, sir; I'm sending a
boat ashore for you."
This was the first that Atkinson had heard of a river expedition
having been sent. He knew Captain Throckmorton as a very distinguished
young officer, and a clever linguist, master of several native
dialects. While he was speculating as to what had brought the schooner
here, and, further, as to the meaning of a white, flag-like object
which--as he looked past the vessel's stern--he could see waving on
the opposite bank, one of the cutters had pulled ashore and was
waiting for him. A lieutenant met him at the gangway.
"Cap'n's talking to the redskins. Come aft, sir, please."
Then the waving white thing was explained; there were Indians on the
far bank, seeking, under cover of the white flag, to parley with the
Captain. Atkinson joined him and, as well as he was able, followed the
dialogue.
"If you want to speak to me, you must send at least ten of your men
aboard."
"I have not so many with me."
"Liar. I saw over a hundred of you a few minutes ago. Where's your
hopeful leader? Where's Black Hawk?"
"They were but women and children whom you saw."
"Where's Black Hawk?"
"Are those General Atkinson's warriors on the other bank?"
"Yes," interrupted the old soldier explosively; "and I reckon you'll
find that out purty soon."
"Where is Black Hawk?" once more demanded the Captain.
"He is--he is--oh, across the river."
"Will you come aboard if I send you a boat?"
"No."
"Then I give you fifteen minutes in which to send away your women. You
know what that--_Heads oh!_"
A flight of arrows had greeted the Captain's last remark. Happily no
one was struck, and the schooner immediately put into mid-stream
again.
Through the thick foliage on the bank, a redskin or a white feather
could be seen every now and then; the muffled sound of voices could
also be heard. Then another volley of arrows came; and another, and
exclamations from the direction of the boats showed that two men were
wounded. The captain motioned to the crews to shelter behind the
vessel, but still he gave no order. He had promised a quarter of an
hour's grace, and only five minutes of that time had gone by.
"Hear that?" said Atkinson suddenly; and Throckmorton nodded. Every
man on deck had heard the click-click of a score or more of
gun-hammers being pulled back.
The crew looked questioningly, but not impatiently, at their captain;
they knew that he would not go back from his word. There were still
seven minutes to wait.
"Lie low, all hands," said Throckmorton very quietly; and as he spoke
twenty or more sparks and flashes showed through the leaves and a
shower of lead flew over their heads. The man at the wheel was shot in
the shoulder; but the Captain sprang back and had taken the spokes
almost before the sailor fell.
"Let them go on," he said, looking at his watch again. "Your turn will
come, my lads."
Perhaps no other men on the face of the earth, save those of British
extraction, would have stood by uncomplainingly during those next five
minutes without returning a shot. Every man had a loaded musket in his
hand, except the two or three who were in attendance on the howitzer,
ready at a second's notice to fire. Another flight of arrows came;
then one more, and the schooner's spars and bulwarks were bristling
with them.
"Two more minutes!" said Throckmorton. "Look out; they're firing
again."
The volley came. One man fell dead, and another had his hat carried
away; but still no one spoke. Captain Throckmorton beckoned a sailor
to him and bade him take the wheel; and again expectant eyes were
turned on him. Suddenly he returned his watch to his pocket, and
everyone gave a little gasp of relief. The Captain nodded to the men
at the howitzer, and instantly a shell flew among the trees; and,
before the echo of the report had died away, the sailors' muskets
began an incessant fire. Indians appeared from everywhere--from
tree-branches, grass, sedge, in many cases only to fall before the
steady rain of bullets. Some ran north, others south, and these latter
suddenly found their retreat cut off by a heavy fire from the other
bank; for Colonel Dodge, whom Atkinson had left in charge, had only
waited for the men on the schooner to begin firing to get his own
carabineers to work.
"Where can my waggons ford it?" asked Atkinson significantly.
Captain Throckmorton soon produced a soundings-chart and showed that,
at about a mile higher up, the waggons could easily cross, now that
the tide was running down.
"Put me ashore, then."
In a very few minutes the old fighting-man was in the saddle again;
and, while the baggage was moved on to the ford, he and a hundred
light-armed cowboys were swimming their horses across the river. The
shelter from which the Indians had fired proved to be a narrow,
copse-like strip which separated the river from an undulating
prairie.
"There they go, General!" cried a young fellow, Captain Dixon, who
rode behind the leader.
"Ay; making for the hills. _I_ know; the same old plant. We must
pretend to be taken in.--Go on, Dixon; after 'em with twenty men."
The General knew well enough, from bygone experience, that the spot
from which the score or so of redskins were fleeing was probably that
at which the bulk of their army lay _perdu_, and that they were merely
trying their old trick of getting a pursuing force between the two
halves of their own. He rode steadily on, and, before he reached the
hills, saw that he had not been mistaken. The fleeing Indians had
suddenly wheeled and were bearing down furiously on Captain Dixon's
few men.
"Forward!" shouted Atkinson. "He can take good care of himself. We
want Black Hawk.... And here he is, by the living Jingo!"
As he spoke, sixty or seventy Indians appeared at the top of the hill,
four of them beautifully mounted; the rest on wrecks of animals that
could scarcely be matched in a Belfast job-yard.
"Fire! A hundred dollars to the man who gets Black Hawk--alive or
dead," shouted Atkinson as he drew his horse to one side.
Without drawing bridle, the troop fired and reloaded, as only men
born, reared, and nourished in the saddle as these were could have
done. Three of the well-mounted Indians, ignoring the volley, rode
straight at the white men, and were followed more hesitatingly by the
rest, with the exception of those killed, and of the fourth man,
evidently--from his fantastic garb--the aged Shawnee prophet.
"Black Hawk! Black Hawk! Over with him!" roared the excited Yankees,
as a splendid-looking old man, six feet four inches in height, rode
fearlessly at them. Pistol-bullets whizzed round his head, but he
appeared to ignore them and, swinging his war-hatchet, began to cut a
way through the cowboys. His two well-horsed companions--his
sons--followed closely, and in a couple of minutes six of Atkinson's
men were dead. But one glance behind him showed the chief that he was
playing a losing game. General Atkinson seemed to have surrounded all
the rest of the Indians with his troop, who were hewing them down
right and left. Captain Dixon's men, too, had put to flight or killed
those who had turned on them, and were now coming to reinforce their
comrades.
With a passionate yell of disappointment and hatred, the chief turned
his horse's head in the direction whither the prophet was already
fleeing; and, with his sons, rode for some distant bluffs. It was all
very well for Atkinson to spur in pursuit, shouting, "After him!" The
white men's horses had been almost dead-beat before the flight began,
and now could scarcely move at all; and the General was obliged to
await his baggage-vans for the pitching of his camp, for at least a
few hours.
But, before those few hours were ended, another party of Indians came
riding into view, and, as the men sprang to their arms, one of
Atkinson's Sioux guides cried jubilantly: "They are our brothers! They
are the white chief's brothers also."
The strangers galloped up and showed a goodly supply of fresh scalps.
They had pursued and slaughtered those of Black Hawk's warriors who
could not escape with him.
"Why didn't you catch Black Hawk?" asked Atkinson disgustedly.
"We know where he has gone to hide. What will the white chief give us
for Black Hawk and his sons?"
The old man named a price, and the troop rode off again. Soon after
sunrise they returned, and in their midst were Black Hawk and his
sons. The old chief was sullenly silent--a broken man, in fact--and
one is glad to know that these rough cowboys had it in them to treat
the poor old fellow with the courtesy becoming his standing among the
natives.
With his two sons and seven other braves he was taken to Fort Monroe
and there imprisoned for a short time; but when the country was once
more quieted, the Government appointed a fresh chief in his place and
he was set at liberty. He died among his own people six years later.
CHAPTER IX
PERUVIAN INDIANS
The history of South America teems with accounts of arduous marches
made by European explorers through its forests or deserts, across its
mountains or along the banks of its rivers. Some of these are more
widely celebrated than others because the results were greater; but
many minor expeditions--some unsuccessful, others serving no practical
end--are as worthy of remembrance because those who undertook them
went coolly, and with their eyes open, into all manner of privations
or dangers, for the sole purpose of advancing their country's
interests.
Among such secondary enterprises is the journey made by Lieutenant
Smyth and Midshipman Lowe from Callao to the Amazon, in 1834, an
enterprise which recalls some of the splendidly reckless achievements
of the Spaniards in the first half of the sixteenth century, or of our
own even bolder adventurers in the second half.
While Captain Fitzroy was still surveying the southerly parts of the
American continent, H.M.S. _Samarang_, under Captain Paget, was making
a similar though more rapid cruise right round the peninsula from La
Guayra to the Bay of Panama. As the ship lay at anchor for
observations off the Peruvian coast, the question was raised as to the
possibility of the Amazon being converted into a water-way between the
Atlantic and the Pacific; and Captain Paget, more in jest than
seriously, asked who would volunteer to go ashore, cross the Andes,
and find the nearest approach to the main stream of the river. To his
amazement, John Smyth, a junior lieutenant, at once offered, and so
earnestly did he beg to be allowed to go that the Captain was forced
to give way at last. Young Smyth had a good knowledge of Spanish, and
was known to be courageous and level-headed; but the difficulty was
that not a boat's crew, not a single seaman, in fact, could be spared
to accompany him; but Smyth insisted that he required no protection,
and only asked leave to take, as companion, his young cousin, a
midshipman named Lowe.
Their knapsacks were soon packed, a cutter took them ashore, and the
crew gave them a parting cheer as they turned back to the ship. In
Callao Smyth hired five mules, and two Jevero Indians to attend him as
muleteers and guides. As becomes direct descendants of the Incas,
these were fearless, fine-looking men, industrious and kind-hearted,
though by no means the sort of folk one would like to offend. They
belonged by birth to Ecuador, which is the chief home of their tribe;
but they seemed to know every yard of the country from Colombia to
Chile, and from the coast to the Brazilian frontier, and, contrary to
the usual custom of their tribe, both spoke Spanish quite well. One
part of their costume which very much interested the two sailors was a
short length of dried reed which each wore in place of an earring,
and fixed to the end of which was the tooth of a slain enemy. But this
was the only essentially barbarous decoration they possessed. They
were bare-foot and bare-headed, but wore shirts and trousers like
ordinary mortals; both, too, were Christians.
At first they assuredly did not flatter whatever vanity the English
lads may have possessed, for they would scarcely believe that such
youthful-looking persons (Smyth was twenty, and Lowe sixteen) could
command the obedience of tried warriors. The question arose through
Luis, the younger guide, contrasting the weapons of the two. The
middy, after the fashion of the time, wore a dirk, while his cousin,
of course, carried a sword. Was it then the custom, asked Luis, for
the length of an English warrior's weapon to depend on his years and
fighting experience? With what sort of blade, in that case, did the
_commandante_ of a ship fight?
Their opinion improved very much, however, as time went on and as they
found these two lads enduring, without a murmur, heat and cold and
thirst and fatigue which few white men that they had ever seen could
have borne. Perhaps it should be added that their experience of white
men was limited to the incorrigible lurchers and beach-combers--most
of them of Spanish origin--to be seen anywhere along the South
American coast. By the end of the second day they had come to feel
quite a fatherly affection for them, so much so that they divulged a
secret which, just at that time, might be worth more than its weight
in gold to the explorers.
The lieutenant had noticed that, though neither guide showed any
disposition to eat or drink "between meals," they never seemed
wearied, nor did they, when supper-time came round, eat with great
appetite; this was the more surprising since they walked the greater
part of the way, while Smyth and Lowe rode mule-back. On his making a
remark about this, Filipe, the elder Indian, opened the satchel in
which he carried his various belongings, and displayed a good stock of
leaves and a small tin of quick-lime, saying:
"You have just eaten your supper, Senor Lieutenante, and cannot judge;
to-morrow I will give you some of these to try for yourself."
During the next morning, after a wearisome climb, Filipe fulfilled his
promise; he rolled a few particles of lime in two or three of the
leaves, and, pressing the whole into globular form, handed it to
Smyth.
"Chew that," he said. "It is _coca_, and will sustain you for nearly
an hour."
Smyth had previously noticed both men stuffing something into their
mouths periodically, but, being so used to seeing the sailors chew
tobacco, he had never given it a second thought. He chewed lustily at
the little ball for five minutes, but succeeded in extracting neither
taste nor nourishment from it.
"I think I should prefer salt pork," he said. "What little taste your
coca has is beastly; and I am as hungry as I was before."
"Patience; you have not chewed it long enough."
He tried again, and presently the Indian said with a smile:
"Well, Senor?"
"I don't know how it is, but I'm losing my hunger. _You_ try it,
Frank.--Give my friend one."
The Jevero shook his head doubtfully.
"It must be a little one, then. It is not good for him. You smoke
cigars, and you give some to us; but you do not give him one. With
_coca_ it is the same."
Smyth continued to chew, and was no longer conscious either of hunger
or fatigue--for half an hour or more, when both these mortal ills
began to return; and of course with double acuteness. He remarked on
this to the Indians.
"Ah!" said Luis; "now you know how we can tell the time without a
watch, how we know the number of miles we have walked without counting
our steps. When you feel to want new coca-leaves, thirty-five minutes
have gone by; add the ten minutes during which you found no effect
from them, and you observe that three-quarters of an hour has expired.
In that time we walk, at the present rate, five miles." He might have
added that, if abused, the coca habit is as pernicious and as
degrading as opium-taking.
"It will be five miles no longer now," said Filipe, interrupting.
"Quick; blind the mules, Luis!"
They immediately began to bustle about like seamen in a gale of
wind, and, in a few minutes, each of the five mules had a cloth tied
over his eyes. There was soon no need to ask why. The slope they had
been ascending had become a level strip--literally a strip. To the
left of them the sailors saw a sheer wall of rock, rising perhaps a
hundred feet, while to the right, not more than eight feet from it,
was the edge of a precipice. Used as they both were to overcoming
inclinations to giddiness or fear, they shuddered involuntarily as
they cast their eyes over the brink and found that they could see no
bottom to the abyss. Yet the Jeveros put themselves on the mules'
outer side, one leading a string of three, the other two, and
walking heedlessly within a couple of feet of the precipice.
To add to the gruesomeness of the neighbourhood, a weird, wailing cry
began to rise from the high ledge above their heads, at the sound of
which the Jeveros crossed themselves and mumbled a prayer.
"What is it?" asked the midshipman, not without a little touch of
awe.
"_Alma perdida!_" said Luis, reverently lowering his voice. The words
meant "a lost soul," but the boy was unaware of that, and Smyth did
not think a mountain-ledge, such as this, quite the right place to
choose for enlightening him. Used to Spanish and now to Indian
superstition, he guessed--and rightly--that the cry was that of some
bird, probably peculiar to the Andes; and he questioned Filipe, who
was walking at his mule's head.
"Yes; it is a bird. It passes its time in bewailing the dead, and the
sins which they have committed."
"It will have a chance of bewailing its own death," said the
lieutenant peevishly, "as soon as I can get a shot at it," at which
the guides betrayed as much horror as Smyth himself would have shown
had they proposed using an albatross as a target.
"What are we going to do if we meet another string of mules along
here?" he asked.
"One party must lie down and let the other pass over it," said Filipe
indifferently.
By night-time the severe nerve strain of such a passage was ended, for
this ledge at last became a rock-walled mountain-path sloping at quite
an easy incline. They were no sooner well along this road the
following morning than the guides looked to the loading of the guns,
for they said that in the neighbourhood they might expect to meet with
black Indians, who were notorious cannibals, and whom it would be
their duty to kill. But it happened that none thought it worth while
to put in an appearance; the "cannibals" were probably imaginary,
though, of course, there are blacks--negroes, not Indians--settled in
various parts of the Andes, the descendants of the African slaves
introduced by the Spaniards in the sixteenth century to carry packages
of gold or silver which the Indians could not or would not carry.
At last the most wonderful mountain-range in the world was crossed.
The mules were left at a village, and the two Jeveros had an
opportunity of showing that they were as expert on the water as on the
mountains. For now they were in Amazonian Peru, and the Huallaga River
had to be descended and examined before the sailors' task was
accomplished. In this more easterly forest district of Peru there are,
at this day, nearly four hundred thousand Indians, and at that time
there were half a million; many of them very degraded, many more
warlike and intelligent heathens, and others who led quite peaceable
lives as farmers, planters, fishers, or exporters of turtle-oil.
Only once were the sailors in serious danger at the hands of any of
these tribes, and that was due not to themselves or to the natives,
but to the Jevero guides, both of whom had an ineradicable contempt
for all Indian families but their own.
This happened soon after the return journey up the Huallaga had begun.
Smyth had expected such an occurrence for some time, for he had more
than once been forced to remonstrate with his men for their
quarrelsome or jeering attitude towards Indians whom they met and
talked with, and who would have been perfectly willing to be friendly
and obliging. They came up with a large canoe containing eight Indians
who were lying in wait for a manatee. Smyth bade the Jeveros draw up,
and entered into conversation with the hunters, who answered civilly,
though not without some distrust. Luis and Filipe joined in unasked,
and, when it was too late, the lieutenant perceived that they were
"chaffing" the strangers. These became more and more angry, and at
last refused to answer Smyth, who thereupon, for peace' sake, told his
canoemen to paddle on. They obeyed, but not without a parting jeer
which the Englishmen did not understand, but which so incensed the
Indian in the bows of the other canoe that he hurled the harpoon which
he was holding straight at Luis.
Luis gave a peculiar twist with his paddle, the canoe shot sideways,
and the weapon passed harmlessly by him. Filipe picked up the
short-barrelled gun that lay at his feet, but, quick to meet all
emergencies, Smyth drew a pistol and pointed it at him.
"If you don't drop it before I count three, I shall fire."
[Illustration: A FIERCE RETORT
The Indian in the bows of the other canoe became so incensed at the
"chaffing" of the strangers that he hurled the harpoon he was holding
straight at Luis.]
In English, he added quickly to the midshipman, "Cover Luis, if he
tries any games."
Filipe dropped the gun with a shame-faced little laugh, and Luis
showed no disposition either to take revenge for the harpoon, or to
back up his friend against their employer.
"Give way, as hard as you can; both of you," said the lieutenant,
watching, with no little concern, the harpoons which were being held
in readiness to throw at his canoe. Perhaps one bullet from his gun
might have put the whole boat's crew to flight, but he had the love of
fair play and reluctance to kill which has distinguished the majority
of British explorers, whether renowned or obscure. He put his pride in
his pocket and frankly ran away.
Strangely enough, neither of the Jeveros ever showed any animosity
towards him for thus siding with the enemy. When, at length, the
parting time came, both pressed keepsakes on the young officers, and
then surprised them by holding them by the hands and crying over them
like a pair of women.
CHAPTER X
THE CARIBS OF GUATEMALA
In 1839, curious as to the rumours of general anarchy prevailing
throughout most of the Central American countries, the United States
Government sent a young Foreign Office official--Mr. John Lloyd
Stephens--to find out the truth of the matter. At first glance there
seems nothing specially alarming or hazardous about such a mission,
nor would there be nowadays; but, at the date of which we are
speaking, there were no means of rapid communication between the
towns, and many of the roads, rivers, and forest or mountain tracks
were in the hands of strong parties of Carib and Mosquito Indians,
Zambos, and Mestizos (white and Indian half-bloods), who would have no
more respect for an agent of the American Government than for the
colonists of their own country, against whom many of them were uniting
their forces.
Under the circumstances, Mr. Stephens thought it wisest to land at
Belize, and learn from the English officials there the best plan to
pursue. British Honduras at that time was not strictly a Crown Colony,
but was governed by the executive in Jamaica. The commanding officer
of the garrison, Colonel McDonald, received him with great geniality,
and entertained him for a couple of days. But he could promise him no
material help, he said, when once he was off British soil; he had no
authority even to lend him a boat or launch, and dared not take upon
himself to send an armed escort beyond the frontier.
"There is a Guatemala steamer starting up the Belize river to-morrow
night," he said. "I will send down and book you a passage. After you
land you must not rely on us"--the Colonel laughed--"in our official
capacity, that is to say. Of course, some of the staff are often up
country after game, and if we should happen to find you in a tight
corner on somebody else's ground, we couldn't, as private individuals,
leave you in the lurch. You've got a nasty job; Guatemala and Honduras
are both more or less in rebellion; so's Mexico for that matter; and
the Indians are plundering Government and revolutionaries alike. We've
had a little trouble of our own with the Caribs; you'll probably meet
some of our firing-parties, any of whom will guarantee you protection
as long as you're our side of the boundary."
The next evening, Mr. Stephens, accompanied by his secretary, Mr.
Catherwood, went on board the little steamer--a boat which an American
or English owner would send round the world with a ship's company of
six, but which, here, was manned by no less than twenty Mestizos, an
English engineer, and a Spanish skipper. The only other passenger was
a young Irish Franciscan, who proved very jovial company, and who
professed to regard the Indian risings as a mere idle scare. He, too,
was going into the first native territory through which the
travellers must pass, and offered himself as their guide thus far.
They could not have had a better, for his "cloth" was of more use to
them than a small escort might have been. Soon after leaving the
steamer they came to the first of the Carib camps. The Irishman
baptised all the babies in the place, good-humouredly "chaffed" the
warriors over their unwisdom in taking part in white men's squabbles,
procured a supply of provisions for himself and his companions, and
all three set off across the boundary into the more dangerous
territory.
They should by right have reached a Spanish village that night, where
they would have been able to obtain horses; but a storm came on, and
there was nothing for it but to wait on the plain till it was over. A
question arose as to shelter and fuel, and this was solved by their
seeing a sheep-fold in the distance. They came up to it and found it
untenanted; there was a hut big enough for three persons to sit in,
but too small for even one to lie in. For a fire, they broke down some
of the rails of the fold, from which they cut kindling wood, and soon
had a cosy blaze which defied the rain; they ate their supper and
slept on the floor of the hut, huddled together.
In the morning they were awakened by a loud chattering of men, and
Stephens, who was nearest the door, found himself being dragged
forcibly into the open, while he was rubbing his eyes and trying to
remember where he was. Catherwood sprang out after him, pistol in
hand, only to be overpowered and relieved of it by a crowd of Caribs.
But, at sight of the friar, the Indians hesitated and became less
noisy. He spoke to them in their own language, and demanded to know
the cause of this violence.
"These men have broken up and burnt our sheep-fold," exclaimed one of
the Caribs.
"Well, well; leave go and I'll explain. Give that gentleman his pistol
back; he doesn't want to hurt you."
"Tell them we'll pay for our night's lodging," added Stephens.
An explanation was offered and accepted, as were five dollars (about
the value of the whole enclosure in a country where wood was
plentiful) from the Americans; and the mollified Caribs led the way to
their camp, gave the strangers a good breakfast, and put them on their
road for the Spanish village. There they found everything quiet and
orderly, though reports were rife as to terrible doings farther west;
the Irishman obtained two good horses for his friends and bade them
good-bye, as their ways divided here.
"We're on our own resources now, and no mistake," said Stephens when,
coming to the end of the plain, they found themselves in the hilly
district which grows higher and higher till it becomes the Central
Guatemala Range, 13,000 feet high. "Let's have a look at the chart."
Colonel McDonald had warned them of the mountains, and had given them
a plan showing one or two deep river valleys, here and in Salvador, by
following which they could reach the Pacific coast without any
climbing that a horse could not manage. Upon this an Indian village
was marked at a distance of about six miles from where they now were;
and they might expect to reach it easily by nightfall, after allowing
themselves ample time for making notes of the country by the way. They
were tolerably sure of a civil reception and a night's lodging, for
their thoughtful Irish friend had given them a letter of introduction
to the resident Spanish padre of the place.
They made very few notes, for they had no fancy for a second night
over a fire of palings; another storm was threatening, and they
spurred for the village without further delay, arriving at the same
time as the rain. It was just at the end of the _invierno_, or wet
season, which consists, in Central America, of lengthy thunderstorms
at very irregular intervals. The priest happened to be absent, but
letters of recommendation were superfluous here; the travellers had
landed on a tribe of Caribs as different from the others as
yeoman-farmers are from gypsies. The others had been one part
shepherds and nine parts brigands; these were the agricultural
Guatemalans, descendants of the most highly civilised of the ancient
Indians, whom--by reason of their very civilisation--Cortez could
easily subdue in war, while the other tribes rendered his march
through the country anything but safe or triumphant. Their inoffensive
disposition made the Spaniards treat them rather as proteges than as
victims.
The only difficulty that presented itself was that few of the
inhabitants spoke any language but their own, for the tribe had, for
four centuries, resisted all attempts to force a new language or new
laws upon them; even their Christianity was but a hundred years old.
They entertained the visitors well, but could give them no information
as to the state of the country; they were not interested in the doings
of the outer world; they cultivated their cochineal insects, grew
their coffee, tended their cattle, and minded their own business. They
gave the Americans an unoccupied hut, brought them a generous supply
of meat, wine, and cakes, and left them to amuse themselves for the
night, with instructions to ring if they wanted anything; the ringing,
by the way, to be performed by beating a drum which they hung outside
the hut door.
Just before it was light, Stephens waked to hear a low cry from his
friend. He sat up and struck a light. Catherwood was lying with his
knees drawn up, hands clenched, and eyes staring, and, in reply to the
other's questionings, answered only in an incoherent babble. Stephens
crossed over to him and saw that his teeth were chattering and his
face almost scarlet; there was no doubt as to his condition; he was in
a burning fever. Nothing could have been more unlucky. He had brought
the young fellow with him purely on his own account, and unauthorised
by his department. He was not in Government service, but merely a
personal friend whom Stephens' private means enabled him to keep in
constant employment as amanuensis; therefore, to lose several days, or
weeks, nursing him, at such a time, would be to bring himself into
serious disgrace with the ministry. Yet how could he leave him in an
Indian camp, to the tender mercies of some mad witch-doctor, who would
charm and physic him to death with the most generous intentions?
He paced up and down for a while, and, at daylight, went out into the
open, forced by his own ignorance of medicine, and his anxiety for his
friend's safety, to stoop to ask advice of a people whom his American
upbringing had taught him to despise. And it was just possible that
the Spanish padre might have returned by now, and he would be sure to
possess some knowledge of drugs and minor surgery. In the village
street he met the chief, one of the few natives who spoke Spanish.
"I will call the physician of the tribe," he said, when Stephens,
learning to his dismay that the priest was not expected till
night-time, had communicated his difficulty.
The native doctor was a little old man who had no small opinion of his
own importance, and was as contemptuously ignorant of Spanish as the
Yankee was of Huaxtecan and Cariban. He passed his hand over the
patient's brow, breathed on him, muttered incantations, and then
walked round the hut about a dozen times, solemnly talking to himself,
till Stephens could scarcely resist the temptation to give him a lift
into the street with his foot. After a time the _piache_, doctor,
conjurer, or whatever he called himself, took out two powders from his
girdle, poured water on them, sipped the drink, breathed and mumbled
over it, opened the sufferer's mouth, and poured it down his throat
before the spectator could make up his mind whether to interfere or
no. Then the old image strutted out of the hut, as proud as Punch.
This was all very well, but Stephens' mind was ill at ease. He
followed the man of medicine into the street, and found the chief
waiting modestly but expectantly outside.
"Ask him what he has given my friend," he said, curtly. The chief
bowed, but shook his head.
"These are mysteries into which I may not inquire. The physician's
secrets are sacred. You may rest assured that the young white man will
soon be well."
Of course, Stephens did anything but rest assured of this. He turned
into the hut again, and lo! Catherwood was sleeping as peacefully as a
child, with no sign of indisposition except the flush on his face. The
chief peeped in apologetically.
"He says that the sick senor will be well enough to travel by midday,"
he whispered. It was now four o'clock; Stephens ate some breakfast
fretfully, looked at the patient, walked about the village, and sought
to kill time as best he could. Every time he re-entered the hut,
Catherwood's temperature was less high; and, about the middle of the
day, he awoke of his own accord, ravenous for some breakfast. The old
medicine-man had known his business; had administered two, out of the
thousand and two, healing drugs which the American forests and valleys
produce--probably quinine and some preparation of poppy--and had
nipped in the bud what was doubtless an attack of malarial fever.
Catherwood paid his doctor's bill by the gift of a four-bladed
pen-knife, his friend forced a similar present on the chief, and early
in the afternoon they rode away about their business. The next few
weeks were passed in hurried journeys from town to town, in false
alarms, in being potted at by revolutionaries, and humbugged by
officials; and by the time they had crossed once more to the Bay of
Honduras and the Guatemala coast, they had found out all that there
was to learn.
About a mile from the British boundary they encountered their most
exciting adventure. Outside a Carib village were a dozen Indians and
Mestizos, all armed with guns, and in heated argument with five young
men, who were obviously British officers in mufti; these also had
guns, and two of them carried well-filled game-bags.
"You intend to keep us here? It will be the worse for you if you try
it," the eldest of the white men was saying in Spanish.
"Unless you give us what we ask," replied a Mestizo insolently. "You
have no right to be over the border."
The Americans pulled up their horses, and Stephens drew a pistol.
"All right," he said. "We're going to be in this."
"Then pray begin by putting that pistol out of the way, there's a good
fellow," said Major Walrond, the young man who had spoken to the
half-caste. "We shall be very glad if you'll back us up. We want to
get out of it without firing on them
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