The Desperate Journey (12 page)

There was a rope dangling from Rosie’s neck by which the men had pulled her along. Suddenly Kirsty slipped down from the
horse and boldly seized the rope. “I will lead her back!” she said.

The Bois Brulés were too astonished to make a move. Davie was quick to urge his horse between Kirsty and the cattle thieves. “On with you, Kirsty!” he cried.

“The first man who goes after them gets my arrow through his throat!” Peguis declared, sitting still as a rock. Not till Davie and Kirsty were hidden from view behind the bank of a creek did he relax his grip on the bow. He looked at the thieves with contempt. “I did not know that
men
made war against a
squaw-child
!” Then, without a backward glance, he and his son rode away back to the Indian encampment.

Affairs went from bad to worse between the settlers and the Norwesters. The Norwesters got a warrant for the arrest of Governor MacDonell for breaking into Fort La Souris and carrying off their supplies of meat. MacDonell sent back a message of defiance. Then, on June 10, when night had fallen, the Norwesters fired on the settlement, wounding two men. This seemed like open war. They then sent another message to say that if MacDonell would give himself up and stand his trial, the Norwesters would leave the settlers alone. MacDonell called the settlers to him.

“My people, I am going to surrender in the hope that it will save further bloodshed among the colony. The Norwesters can take me to Montreal and I will stand my trial there.

“I do not think it will save the Colony, sir. The Norwesters mean to wipe us out altogether,” one of the older settlers said.

“Aye, I fear it, but perhaps my surrender will give you a breathing space,” MacDonell decided.

The old settler was right. Nothing but the destruction of the colony would satisfy the Norwesters. Four days later they attacked the settlers’ houses and carried off some of the men as prisoners. The rest of the settlers gathered at Fort Douglas for greater safety, taking their wounded with them. The women and children took
refuge behind the inner walls: the men, James and Davie among them, stood at doors and windows with their muskets primed. There came a hail of bullets against the walls of the fort, but little damage was done.

“We will show them we are not defenceless!” John McLeod, a settler, said. “Haul out our cannon!”

“It is rusty, and it is a long time since it was fired,” a man told him. “We have no shot for it, either.”

“Could we not use chain-shot?” James Murray suggested. “If we break up the chains on our carts they will serve as shot.” The blacksmith went to work at once, snapping off the links of chain.

The Bois Brulés were massing behind a screen of bushes, ready to make an onslaught on the stockade around the fort. Just as they broke out, yelling murderously, McLeod gave the order, “Fire!”

The cannon roared like a thunderbolt, sending the pieces of chain screaming about their ears. Taken by surprise, the Bois Brulés halted abruptly, their horses whinnying and rearing; then some turned tail altogether and made off as fast as they could. The rest were soon in retreat.

“First victory to us! They’ll come back again, though,” McLeod said soberly. “We cannot hope to stand against them for long, only sixty of us, men, women and children. There are nigh on three hundred men of them, and what pity will those brutes have for our women and children and wounded?”

“What do you think we should do?” James Murray asked.

“I think we must abandon the settlement. There is little food in the fort and they could soon starve us out. They have drawn off now, but they will come back tomorrow night and they might try to burn us out. We had better use tonight to get down the river to Lake Winnipeg and Norway House. Get the canoes ready and embark the women and children and wounded. We will take what gear we can, blankets and clothes and food. The cattle we shall have to leave behind. There is no room for herds in the boats.”

A bitter sigh went up from the colonists. Their cows and sheep meant the savings from many months’ labour.

Dawn saw the boats well down the river. By the time the Norwesters crept up to ambush the fort again, the settlers were many miles away. When the Norwesters found the colony was deserted, they burned the settlers’ homes, broke down the fences, trampled the growing crops into the earth and carried off the cattle.

“We have knocked the colony on the head!” the Norwesters chanted; but they had not succeeded in turning out all the settlers. In the blacksmith’s shop at the fort four determined men, among them John McLeod, barricaded themselves in with the little cannon pointing at the enemy. Each time any of the Norwesters tried to approach, they turned a withering fire upon them.

“Let them be!” the Norwester leader decided. “There are not enough of them to cause us any trouble.”

Those four grim-faced men, feeding pieces of chain into their cannon, stood for the indomitable spirit of the colonists.

It was a sad and dismayed band that made their way along Lake Winnipeg towards Norway House and the Jack River, once again to be their place of refuge.

“Is there to be no peace for us? Must we always see our home destroyed?” Kate said heavily.

“We shall go back again, you will see, Mother,” Davie told her. “Perhaps sooner than you think!”

“Aye, we shall go back. I have not tilled my fields to give them up at the first breath of gunfire,” James Murray declared.

Though they did not know it, already help was on the way to the settlers. Colin Robertson, a leader appointed by the Earl of Selkirk, reached the encamped settlers at Jack River. With him Robertson had twenty trained and armed men.

“Go back with me, good folk! Go back with me to your homes and build them up again What is there here for you in this rocky
barren place? At the Red River the land is yours, already tilled. Some of your crops may have been spared. If you go back, you will be in time to harvest them.”

“What if the Norwesters attack us again?” one settler asked.

“This time there are more of us with guns, and ninety more settlers are on their way to us across the sea, coming with the Earl of Selkirk himself. Would you have the Earl come, and none of his people there to greet him?”

James Murray spoke up. “I will go back for one, and I think I can answer for my family.”

“Yes, I will go!” Kate said at once, and Kirsty looked at Davie and nodded when he nodded. Other settlers followed their example. A few days later Colin Robertson led them back to the Red River colony.

When their canoes came to rest at the banks of the river, the four remaining defenders rushed down to meet them. “We knew you’d come back!” John McLeod cried with joy. “The Norwesters have left us alone for a while. Ye’ll find we’ve looked after your farms as well as we could. We’ve repaired the fences and some of your houses, and we’ve tended the crops and made hay. Aye, and we’ve even started to build a new fort in the place of the one that was burned down.”

The colonists went to look at what remained of their homes. The Murrays’ log hut had been burned down, but the byre remained.

“We shall soon build it again, lass,” James told his wife. “Meantime we must be thankful for shelter in the byre.”

“My garden’s been spared. The flowers are coming into bloom,” Kirsty exclaimed with delight.

Kate smiled at Kirsty’s joy. “Aye, whiles it takes longer to make a garden than to build a house.”

That year the harvest was good, with oats, wheat, barley and potatoes in abundance. There was a second crop of hay cut and stacked. The new fort was completed. Many more settlers from
Kildonan arrived from York Factory under the leadership of Peter Fidler, who also brought a herd of cattle and pigs in the canoes! With the new settlers came a new Governor, appointed by the Earl of Selkirk, Robert Semple.

Large herds of buffalo had been taken on the prairies, and plenty of catfish caught in the river and then dried, so there were stores of meat and fish enough to see everyone through the winter.

On November 4 they held a feast to celebrate the
re-establishment
of the colony. Amid much laughter John McLeod fired the cannon once more, this time in a salute as the flag was hoisted on the new fort. Everyone drank everyone else’s health, and there was music and dancing, and Donald Gunn’s pipes skirled far into the night.

The winter passed peacefully with the tending of cows and sheep. There was much visiting among the settlers, with singing and storytelling in the long winter evenings. There were even several weddings. All seemed set fair at last for the Red River Colony. Among the Norwesters, though, trouble was still brewing, ready to spill over in hate for the Hudson’s Bay Company and the settlers at the Forks of the Red River. The Norwesters were not yet defeated.

The next spring the Norwesters got an army together. Again they tried to get the Indians to join them, but Peguis refused. On June 17, 1816, he came to see Governor Semple.

“Chief Semple, I bring you bad news,” Peguis told him. “The north west men mean war against you. They come to Indians and say, ‘The settlers drive away the buffalo and this make the Indians poor and miserable, but Norwesters will drive the settlers away. If the settlers fight, the ground shall be drenched with their blood. Not one shall be spared.’ They ask that the Indian young men shall fight on their side.”

Semple’s face grew grave. “And what have the Indians said to this, Peguis?”

“We no fight our friends in the colony,” the chief replied staunchly.

Semple shook hands with him. “I trust you, Peguis.”

“There is more bad news,” Peguis went on. “north-west men have stopped your boats bringing pemmican. They have sunk them and taken your men prisoners. They have attacked Brandon House belonging to the Hudson’s Bay people and have taken prisoners and steal everything. Now they come your way.”

This was shocking news indeed. “How many men, Peguis?” Semple asked.

“I hold up my hands seven times,” Peguis said, showing his extended fingers.

“Seventy men! That’s a big number, Peguis.”

“Too many bad men for Red River people to fight,” Peguis replied. “They make themselves to look like Indians, but no men of my tribe among them, Chief Semple.”

“I believe you,” the Governor said. “Thank you for bringing me this news, Chief Peguis.” They shook hands.

“Keep a watch, Chief Semple. My young men say the Bois Brulés attack you in two days.”

As Peguis rode away he passed by the Murrays’ farm and beckoned Davie who was working in the fields. “You have good eyes, boy? You can see long way?”

“Yes, I guess so. Why, Peguis?”

“Norwesters come soon to colony. You go Governor Semple and tell him I think you good boy to keep watch from tower at fort.”

When Davie told Semple what Peguis had said, the Governor replied, “I trust Peguis’s judgement in many things. Go, take up your duty at Fort Douglas at once and keep a sharp watch, lad. You had better take my spyglass.”

“Can my sister Kirsty come with me too?” Davie asked. “She has very sharp eyes.”

“Aye, two watchers might be better than one,” Semple agreed.

The settlers were warned of the threatened attack and mothers and children came to stay in Fort Douglas for better safety. The men stayed on their farms to look after the cattle and crops.

A day went past but nothing happened, and neither Davie nor Kirsty had seen any movement of troops across the wide prairie, though they kept the spyglass shifting in all directions. At night their father took over from them, but all was quiet, with only the wind rippling the prairie grasses. Then came the day when Peguis had thought the attack might come. For several hours all seemed quiet. Some of the settlers went to look after their cattle in the fields by the river bank. Still Davie and Kirsty kept careful watch. Suddenly Kirsty said, “What is that little cloud of dust over there on the horizon, Davie?”

Davie took the spyglass from her instantly. “They’re coming!” he cried. “Horsemen heading this way! I must warn Mr Semple at once!”

He ran down the stairs and broke in on the Governor who was snatching a hasty meal. “The Norwesters are coming, sir! A great crowd of them on horseback! They look to be about three miles away.”

Semple jumped up at once. “Go back and keep watch, and shout down to us behind the barricades if they change direction at all.” He dashed away to look at his defences.

In the fort there was anxiety and fear. Mothers with small children wept: men shouted directions to man the barricades. The cannon was brought out again. All seemed excitement and confusion, but Semple kept his head. Davie called to him from the window.

“Mr Semple! There are still settlers with the cattle in the river fields. They cannot have heard the alarm. The Norwesters are headed in their direction. They’ll cut off our settlers before they can reach the fort.”

“We must go out and meet our enemies,” the Governor decided. I want one man from each family to go with me.”

A number of men volunteered immediately, James Murray among them.

The enemy were mustering their horses by a clump of oak trees known as Seven Oaks when Governor Semple and his brave band approached. Semple halted half way. “There are far more Norwesters than I thought,” he said. “John Bourke, go back and fetch out the cannon and bring with you another twenty volunteers.”

They waited a few minutes, then Governor Semple decided to go forward.

“We will see if we can settle this thing peaceably,” he said. They advanced towards the clump of trees where the horsemen were gathered.

“They’ve tricked themselves out in Indian war-paint. They mean to fight,” one of the colonists said.

Grant, the commander of the Norwesters, divided his forces in two and swung half of them in behind Semple, while the other half advanced towards him. A Norwester called Boucher rode forward.

“What do you want?” he demanded roughly of the Governor.

“What do you want yourselves? These are our lands,” Semple shouted back.

“You have destroyed our fort,” the Norwester accused him. He was speaking of Fort Gibraltar which the Hudson’s Bay people had attacked. “You are a rascal!” he told the Governor.