by Carol Matas
July 25
We are almost there. We arrived this afternoon at Playgreen Lake, a most beautiful spot. Actually we passed through here on our way to Red River, but the leaves were already off the trees by then, although I remember the tall and magnificent spruce, tamarack and jack pine. There are also birch, poplars and willows that we are very familiar with from the Red River. Everywhere wild flowers are in bloom — blues and bright yellows surround brilliant orange-coloured tiger lilies, and all are set off by the unusual bright orange moss growing on the rocks.
July 26
We have set up camp on the bank of Jack River. Jack River House is on an island only a short row away. Sheriff McDonell went there directly with Father, who carried the letters saved from the settlement. They returned with frying pans and kettles, blankets, flour, some oil, pemmican and some fresh fish. They also brought twine to make fishing nets. The Factor in charge of the Hudson Bay Post at Jack River is called Bird, James Bird. The big news is that he does not see any prospect at all of our returning to Scotland in the near future! He says that there are no boats travelling back and that we must consider that not only will we be staying this winter, but that we may be here for an entire year before a boat is to be found to return us to our homeland. Although the other settlers seemed distressed by this news, Father is hopeful. He feels that this will give Lord Selkirk time to place us back in the Red River Settlement. Of course, I believe Father to be the most sensible of all men, and would like to believe that he is correct, but I fear that he is only fooling himself.
The first order of business, he says, is to build little cabins for the winter, as we certainly do not want to spend it in tents. First thing tomorrow we begin that job.
August 1816
August 6
We have built a fairly cosy little hut. We have filled up the holes in between the wood with mud and moss. The roof is made of double layers of poles and is covered with double layers of spruce bark. Father made two sets of bunk beds, one for me and Kate, the other for Robbie and James.
I don’t think I understood properly anything about our coming to this New World. Often at night Father and the others, both men and women, gather round the campfire to talk. They are trying to understand what has gone wrong with all our plans, and I listen closely. I am not sure if this is correct, but this is what I understand so far: The Hudson’s Bay Company gave Lord Selkirk a grant of this land. Everyone seems to agree that Lord Selkirk had only good intentions, even idealistic intentions, for the settlement. But Father thinks that the Hudson’s Bay Company must have had quite different reasons for giving Lord Selkirk the land than he had for wanting it. At one point Father said, “They probably understood that if we settled there we could easily supply the fur traders with food that we ourselves grew, and eventually that would make the Company stronger than the North West Company.”
He went on to say that no one had thought about the new race of people coming from the marriage between Indian and French, creating a people who want to be known as a new people and new nation, the Métis. And the Métis see us settlers as a threat to their way of life. After all, those Métis who do not work for one of the trading companies live from the buffalo, and how can they hunt buffalo if the land is cultivated and the buffalo are driven away? And the settlers are an obvious threat to those who work for the North West Company, because the Nor’Westers have been forbidden to take pemmican from the area, so that there will be enough for the settlers. In a way, then, the settlers are simply pawns between the Hudson’s Bay Company and the North West Company.
“Colin Robertson understood this perfectly,” Father said, “and therefore understood the danger that we were in, whereas Governor Semple seemed to have no idea of the true danger. His ignorance helped him and those poor unfortunates walk straight into danger.”
At that point a number of the women who had lost their husbands at Seven Oaks began to cry. As did Kate.
“No doubt all those lives could have been saved if they had stayed in the protection of the Fort, or at least taken the big gun with them and been prepared to fire. We thought we’d come to this land to be free,” Father said, “but we are still being used by those higher than us.”
August 10
Have had little time to write as every night we spend sewing and mending socks and underclothes, which are in a sorry state.
August 11
Alice, Kate and I were out today picking wild strawberries. We found some wonderful patches. And we also encountered the Cree women who are camped nearby. They did not speak to us at first, but I knew from meeting with White Loon’s people that that was not because they were necessarily unfriendly, it was just their way. I would be tempted to call them shy, but I have begun to realize that just because people behave differently than me doesn’t mean I understand why they do so. If it were somebody from the Highlands and they were quiet, I would assume that they were shy or unfriendly, but perhaps this is just the way the Cree women are. At any rate we made an effort to be friendly, and they responded right away. They were wonderful about sharing the patches with us. They could, of course, have shooed us away, but it did not seem that even occurred to them.
A couple of them were girls our age, and they told me they were from the Swampy Cree band. One is named Bends Fingers. She is tall and beautiful. She showed us that she can bend her fingers all the way back because she is double-jointed. One of the other girls is called Sings Well and the third is called Whose Face Shows Her Moods. I couldn’t help but wonder at such interesting names, and asked them how they got them. It turns out it is not the least bit the same as how we get our names, with our mother and father telling us what it is. First it seems that there is a ceremony within days of the child being born. In this ceremony a group of birth songs are sung to the child by the father or by the shaman, before a gathering of family and guests. The name can be based on physical characteristics or the personality of the child, or some event that might have happened to a child, or some animal the child is akin to, or even some war, or an event such as the weather. Often children change their names if they feel that the name they have no longer suits them. And then they end up with names like Bends Fingers! I wonder if I were to change my name, what I would change it to? Would it still be Wishes To Be A Lady or something else altogether?
When we returned with our strawberries White Loon showed us how to press them into cakes. We then left them out to dry so they could be put away for the winter.
August 15
Today we went berry picking again, this time looking for black currants. Bends Fingers came to get us and showed us where the best patches were. She can move and twist herself into the most amazing positions and she seems to be double-jointed all over. Kate seems to have nothing good to say to her and in private only makes fun of her. In fact Kate seems to have reverted to her old self, and I wonder if the gentle and reasoned person we saw when her brother was here was only a mirage. White Loon says she is jealous of my new friends. What a prickly girl she is!
August 28
We have been in the New Land for one year. To avoid despair and despondency Father and Jasper McKay organized a party. We danced for hours. It was a good thing because otherwise we would have been filled with gloom, thinking how we have come to such a pass.
September 1816
September 1
Big news! BIG NEWS!
A letter has arrived from Colin Robertson today saying that Lord Selkirk will make sure that we are able to return to The Forks.
I dare not believe that what the letter says is true. I think that perhaps our dreams were destroyed at Frog Plain. (Speaking of dreams, I have suffered the most terrible nightmares since that dreadful day.)
September 8
White Loon works all day. She is making us winter jackets from caribou skins she has managed to obtain from the Indian women by trading some of our pots.
Kate and I are going out in a boat with Bends Fingers to help harvest wild rice.
> September 9
Today was tremendous fun. I love the Indian way of life. But I do not understand why that is so. It is nothing like the ladylike life I envisioned for myself, sitting pouring tea and eating scones with cream. But it was so beautiful to drift out into the water in a canoe, passing through the tall grass, the warm sun streaming down. The mosquitoes are almost gone, now that it is well into September. The rocks around us were covered in bright orange moss. The birds were singing. My job was to catch the long stems of rice and shake them over the boat so that the kernels dropped into the bottom. Bends Fingers has promised that we can help harvest the rice with them over the next few days and that then we shall have a part of it. Won’t White Loon be proud of us when we come home with rice for the winter? I will be telling her none of this as I want it to be a surprise.
September 10
Today Bends Fingers fetched us to the Indian camp and we watched as they heated the rice kernels over a large fire. Then the kernels were thrown into a big pit in the ground. Bends Fingers’ brother, Broken Nose, proceeded to jump up and down in the hole. I was horrified at first, thinking that he was being a bad boy and destroying the rice. In fact, that is the way they separate the husks from the kernels.
September 11
Bends Fingers ran into our cabin calling out to us, “Wind, wind, follow me, follow me.”
Kate had gone to the river to help White Loon with the laundry and I had stayed to clean fish for our dinner.
I ran to Alice’s cabin and fetched her. Then we hurried after Bends Fingers to their encampment, which is through a beautiful stand of tall pine trees and low bushes. All the women and girls from the camp were gathered in a treeless space near the tipis. They were each holding a large flat piece of birchbark. Then one of the women came by with a birchbark basket. Out of this basket she took handfuls of the rice and the husks and put them on the birchbark pieces. The women and girls began to throw the rice and husks into the air. The husks blew away in the wind and only the rice remained! Soon we were being taught how to do it as well, and although sometimes I dropped some of the rice, I quickly learned. We did this all afternoon until my arms felt that they were going to fall off, but in the end I was given an entire basket full of rice to take home. Both White Loon and Father were very proud of me and delighted with my acquisition.
September 20
Is it nine days since I last wrote in your pages? The time has passed so quickly and so pleasantly that there have even been a few nights when I have not suddenly wakened, gasping for breath, reliving over and over that terrible day at Frog Plain. We have been berry picking daily and we eat well, as the fish are abundant.
Unfortunately everyone’s clothes are in tatters, and although White Loon has done some good trading and has managed to get us some excellent skins, Father still needed to go to the Company store for material. Everything that we must buy from the store puts us further into debt with the Company. This debt was to be paid off by our working the land for them and paying them by supplying them with food. But now that we are to go back to the Highlands how will we ever pay them back? I know this weighs heavily on Father and on James.
September 22
Robbie’s birthday is tomorrow. We were unable to celebrate last year as we were on that difficult long trip from York Factory. He does nothing but grow, so for my present I am making him a new pair of moccasins. Father has managed to get flour and a small bit of sugar from the Company and I will also make a cake. James is fashioning him a bracelet. Father and White Loon will not say what their present will be.
September 23
We had a party for Robbie today and all his friends from the settlement came, as did the Indian boys. They played games all afternoon. White Loon and Father gave Robbie his very own bow and arrow. He was so thrilled that I think he could not wait for the games to be over so he could go and practise. Peter is jealous and is now begging his parents for one as well so he can go hunting with Robbie.
September 30
It has become bitterly cold. I think it will snow soon.
October 1816
October 1
It snowed today and the wind blew cold. I cannot say I am looking forward to a long bitter winter. It would not be so difficult if we knew that we could go back to The Forks in the spring. But the spring will bring only more waiting until a ship can take us home again. And then what? Our old home might now be overrun by sheep so that we cannot farm. Will we end up in the slums of Glasgow like all the rest of the people thrown off the land?
October 4
I have decided to put on a theatrical for the entire group of settlers. I have been trying to think how we can keep occupied on these long nights. It seems to me that we can devise a play and practise it. Already James, Alice, Kate, Robbie, Peter and Bends Fingers have said they wish to participate. We have all decided that we shall try to tell the story of our last year using humour and song. If we can do a good job this theatrical can be played for generations to come to tell our story. I know that Mother would be pleased as it is another way to develop my writing skills, and a more public way, since this diary is to be read by no one but myself.
October 6
Kate wishes to represent the North West Company in the story. She says her brother told her many details that we may not know about the Company and that the Company is not all bad. As for me, I think it delightfully appropriate that Kate play the villain.
The weather has warmed a bit.
October 15
I am too busy writing our theatrical to also write in your pages every night. Also I am beginning to be concerned because I notice that I am coming to the end of this diary. Father has tried to find one for me at the Company store but there are none.
October 16
The theatrical has been put aside for the moment. We must all help to bring in the fish. It is at this time of year that the whitefish move out of the deep waters where they dwell, to spawn closer to shore. Father and the other men have made small birchbark canoes, copying the canoes of the Swampy Cree. They use cedar for the frame and the ribs. Then they select a birch tree and peel its bark off in one piece with a sharp knife. You have to be very careful not to break the bark in any spot. Then they take the fibres of roots of the spruce and they soak them in water; when they’re soft they rub them until they’re so flexible they can use them just like thread to tie the canoe together. This took them a few days but finally we had a lovely little canoe. One drawback — they are very light and easy to tip, nothing at all like the York boats that we travelled on more recently.
I’m afraid that a couple of times James was so busy making a joke that he was not careful and he tipped the canoe. The experience was extremely unpleasant I am sure as the water has turned cold.
October 25
Thousands and thousands of fish have been caught. Father says the number is well over ten thousand. We work day and night gutting them, cleaning them and drying them for the winter. Naturally we’re eating fish every night. I am fortunate that I like fish, but Robbie cannot bear even the smell of it. Father insists that he eat and says that there’s no possibility of such preferences under these circumstances. Robbie screws up his face and pushes the fish around his plate. Father can say what he likes — Robbie is far too stubborn to listen. I try to make sure that he always has bannock and I have seen White Loon giving him berries numerous times. Often he goes and eats at the Indian camp with his friends, where he is much happier eating freshly killed meat.
October 26
The men spent today mending the canoes so they could go out fishing again. First they sew up the breaks with spruce thread, as the Indians showed them. Then they heat the gum from the spruce tree and pour that into the cracks in the canoe. When it hardens in the cold water it appears to make a watertight seal. Again I am impressed by these so-called savages. Did I say savages? It seems that I can no longer look at them that way.
November 1816
November 10
Snow covers the ground. The fishing is over. And we are back to our theatrical.
November 23
I am running out of pages in this diary. I will only be able to write short passages from now on.
November 29
We will present our theatrical on Hogmanay. Kate continues to surprise me. She has a flair for the dramatic and is the best player we have. James is also very good, and much to Alice’s dismay, James and Kate spend all their free time rehearsing. Kate’s personality seems to undergo a change at these times, just as it did when her brother was here. When she is occupied with something that she is good at, her mood lightens, she smiles and rarely utters a cross or nasty word. I do not know what to make of her still. Alice, unfortunately, has decided that Kate is dissembling in order to find favour with James, and has begun to hate her. I think it is unfortunate because Alice is such a mild soul who has a kind word for everyone, but Kate is bringing out the worst in her. In the meantime, as writer and director of the theatrical I must mediate between them, and often find myself caught between my brother, Kate and Alice. Certainly it has given us a diversion, but I could have wished for a more relaxed diversion than this!