by Ray Argyle
His father, also named Edward, had travelled the world by the time he arrived in Victoria in 1858. He was a descendant of a Protestant Huguenot family from France. In the seventeenth century they fled their homeland with other Protestants to escape religious persecution. The Huguenots had faced the same kind of discrimination that other minorities, like the Jews throughout Europe, Blacks in North and South America, and the aboriginals of Canada and Australia, have also suffered.
The Mallandaines landed in London, England’s East End, where they fell into the busy life of the city’s guild of master silk weavers. Edward’s grandfather, John West Mallandaine, worked his way up in the British East India Company and became the British military commander in Singapore. That was where Edward’s father was born.
After the family moved back to England, Edward’s father tried his hand at gold mining in Australia. When that didn’t work out, he returned to London where he worked as an apprentice to an architect. He learned enough to set himself up as an architect and marry. Unfortunately, his wife died eight days after giving birth to a daughter and the little girl died before her first birthday. Heartbroken, he sold his home and possessions, and borrowed seventy pounds from his sister. That gave him the money to start life afresh in Victoria, in the colony of Vancouver Island.
Edward’s father prospered in Victoria. He worked for a while as a teacher in a private school, then bought the school and started the city’s first night school for adults. Next he struck on a brilliant idea. The city was growing but its newcomers were strangers to their neighbours, so he decided to publish a directory listing the names and addresses of everyone in Victoria. People paid to put notices advertising their businesses in this, the first city directory in British North America.
Later, he worked as an architect and designed buildings in Victoria and New Westminster, and in Portland and San Francisco in the United States as well. He loved to play the organ and paint pictures. In fact, many of his paintings are still held in the British Columbia Archives in Victoria.
Edward’s mother, Louisa Townsend, also led an adventurous life. Feeling she had no prospects in England, she boarded the S.S. Tynemouth to come to Victoria. It was a bride ship, so-called because it was filled with respectable young women who had agreed to go to Vancouver Island where there was a shortage of marriageable girls. She had a storm-tossed trip around Cape Horn at the tip of South America before landing in Victoria. She met Edward’s father when they both sang in the choir at St. John’s Anglican Church.
The mighty Thompson River surges into the Fraser River, in a scene painted in 1877 by Edward Mallandaine Sr.
When Edward was fourteen, in 1881, he completed the last of the classes offered at Victoria Central School; it was typical in those days for boys and girls to finish school at that age.
By then, Edward’s father had branched out to become a surveyor and had landed a contract with the Canadian Pacific Railway. He was given the assignment of surveying the route for the new line from Port Moody on Burrard Inlet, up the Fraser River as far as Yale. He took Edward along with him, thinking he would be able to get him a job at a salmon cannery in New Westminster.
But the cannery owner had other ideas.
“We’re only hiring Chinese workers,” the owner said. “They’re reliable and they’ll work for less than Whites.”
This attitude upset Edward. He didn’t think it was fair. When his father arranged for him to work in the survey party, though, he soon forgot about the cannery. He learned to sight land levels through the survey equipment and marvelled at the beautiful mountains that rose majestically beyond the Fraser River.
I’d like to follow the railway through those mountains someday, he thought.
The end of summer brought a close to the survey job and Edward returned with his father to Victoria. He’d always been skilled with his hands, and he soon found a job as a carpenter, helping to build houses and new stores. He learned architecture from his father. That winter, he went as far away as Portland, in the United States, to work construction jobs.
Edward was at home in the spring of 1885 when he read about the trouble on the Canadian Prairies in the British Colonist, the newspaper everybody in Victoria relied on for news of the world. He knew right away that he wanted to get in on the action.
Edward, like any other seventeen-year-old, was excited with the news that Louis Riel, the leader of the Plains Métis, was back in Canada from exile in Montana. He would likely stir up the Natives and start another rebellion.
Métis leader Louis Riel’s hanging in 1885 aroused bitter feelings between French-speaking Canadians, especially in Quebec, and people in English Canada who applauded his execution.
From Traitor to Hero
Louis Riel, hanged as a traitor, is now seen as one of the builders of Canada. The architect of the North-West Rebellion of 1885 and an earlier rebellion that led to the formation of the province of Manitoba, where his memory is honoured every February on Riel Day.
Louis Riel was a fiery man, and many considered him a little crazy. He was deeply religious and had fled to the United States following the troubles in Manitoba. Three times the Métis people elected him as their Member of Parliament, but he was never able to take his seat at Ottawa.
Riel travelled to the Saskatchewan Prairie in 1884 in response to a plea from his friend and local Métis leader, Gabriel Dumont. The Métis had settled on land that the government hadn’t yet surveyed. They were later told they would have to pay two dollars an acre — an enormous sum at that time, which none of them could afford.
His return to Canada set off alarms at the Hudson’s Bay Company trading posts and forts manned by the North-West Mounted Police. But not everyone expected trouble. Father André, a Catholic missionary, wrote to the governor of the North-West Territories, Edgar Dewdney, to say that Riel “has acted and spoken in a quiet and sensible way.” The government resisted advice by the North-West Mounted Police officer closest to the scene, Inspector Leif Crozier, to come to terms with the Métis.
Riel set up a Provisional Government of Saskatchewan and proclaimed a Revolutionary Bill of Rights. He chose Batoche, on the South Saskatchewan River, as his capital. When Riel and Dumont heard that the Mounties were about to arrest them, they ransacked local stores, and seized weapons and supplies. In a pitched battle at Duck Lake, a dozen Mounties and five Métis were killed. The Plains Cree, with the reluctant approval of their chief Big Bear, joined the fight.
Other battles followed, but a superior force of Canadian Militia, shipped out from Ontario on the newly built Canadian Pacific Railway, aided by the North-West Mounted Police under the command of Colonel Sam Steele, soon put down the rebellion. Riel surrendered. He was hanged in Regina on November 16, 1885.
“I’d like to go and fight the Indians,” Edward told his father. “They’re rising up against the Queen. I want to help stop them.”
The idea of joining soldiers on the Prairies filled Edward’s head day and night. He’d read about a family taken prisoner by the chief of the Plains Cree, Big Bear. He could just see himself marching with the troops under a vast prairie sky. At night, he dreamt of rescuing a helpless girl from Big Bear’s clutches.
Edward’s ambition was to fight in the North-West Rebellion. This painting by Fred Curzon (1862–90) depicts the Battle of Fish Creek.
The Last Spike map: a blueprint of the main line, pinpointing Craigellachie, where rail crews from east and west linked up to complete the Canadian Pacific Railway.
Edward, along with other Canadians, might have thought differently had he better understood what was happening to the First Nations in the North-West Territories.
Every day, Edward scanned the British Colonist and pressed his father for permission to light out for the Prairies. There was news of more battles, and most of it wasn’t good. Then came a turn for the better: a force of three thousand Canadian Militia men had been rushed from Ontario to the Prairies. They travelled quickly over the newly built Canadian Pacif
ic Railway line.
Even during the fighting, railway workers, called “navvies,” were laying track through the Rocky Mountains. Other workers were pushing east from the Pacific Coast, following the route surveyed by Edward’s father. It wouldn’t be long before they joined up somewhere in the mountains. When that happened, Canada would finally have a railway running from coast to coast.
“You’ve got to let me go,” Edward told his parents. “Else I’ll run away. You can’t stop me.
I hate this place!” Edward was getting angry. He was fed up with being told what to do.
“If you leave now, don’t bother coming home again,” Edward’s father said. “You’re learning to be an architect. I won’t have you going off to some God forsaken part of the country that you know nothing about.”
Edward suddenly saw his chance.
“What about when you lit out for Australia? I suppose you knew what you were getting into.”
Edward saw a smile come to his mother’s face.
“You know he’s right,” she said to his father. “But he looks so young for his age. I hope people won’t think he’s a runaway.”
“Well, the army seems to have things under control,” his father answered. “Maybe we could consider letting Edward go. I’m sure he’ll be well looked after by the soldiers. But he’s got to promise to come back and finish up his apprenticeship. I want him to be an architect.”
“Oh, I will, I will,” Edward answered happily.
Finally, perhaps in recognition of Edward’s eighteenth birthday, his parents gave in at last.
“I’m going, I’m going!” Edward shouted as he bounced onto the porch of his friend Jimmy’s house. He babbled excitedly. Jimmy listened, his mouth hanging open. He couldn’t understand why Edward would want to travel to the North-West when there was lots of fun to be had right here in Victoria.
“I guess we won’t be going fishing on Saturday then,” Jimmy said. Edward dashed off without answering. He had to pack up the stuff he’d need for the trip.
Edward got his father to buy him a ticket on the steamer to New Westminster. From there, he’d ride a Canadian Pacific train as far upcountry as it would take him. He’d have to make his way through the mountains on foot or by horseback. Then he’d be on his way again by train. He just knew the militia would be glad to see him.
Why, they’ll probably give me a uniform and a gun on my very first day. Reporting for duty, Sir! There’s a war to be won!
CHAPTER 2
CAUGHT
IN THE FLAMES
A cooling breeze brushed Edward’s face as he walked up the gangplank of the S.S. Rainbow just after eight o’clock one Sunday evening. The whole family had attended morning services at St. John’s Anglican Church. Edward’s father told the minister that he was leaving on the evening steamer for the North-West.
“I’ll say a special prayer for Edward’s safety,” Reverend Wilson told the family. “May God look after him.”
Edward turned for one more look at his family gathered on the dock below. They were waving to him. All had smiles except his mother, who wiped a tear with her handkerchief, then looked quickly away. The steamer would be leaving in a few minutes for New Westminster. For the hundredth time, Edward checked his ticket and saw again that he was assigned to cabin C-3. This meant he’d make the voyage across the Strait of Georgia on the ship’s lower deck.
Edward went straight to his cabin, stowed his satchel, and returned to the second deck to watch the departure from Victoria Harbour. As the Rainbow slid away from the dock Edward ran his eyes along the familiar rocky shoreline. At last I’m on my way, he thought. I’ll not be back for awhile. The prospect of adventure sent a tingle down his spine.
Edward knew that the Rainbow was owned by the Hudson’s Bay Company, but he paid that fact little mind. The steamer was one of several built in England that were used to ferry supplies in and out of various towns and trading posts up and down the British Columbia coast. Plumes of grey and black smoke billowed from its single smokestack, evidence that the ship’s wood-burning furnace was now filled with blazing logs. Close to the prow of the Rainbow stood the pilot house, and behind the smokestack were the top deck cabins, reserved for first-class passengers. They would enjoy fine views through their portholes, even if the breeze wafted the occasional spark or bits of ash their way.
Once on open water, the Rainbow began to rock with the swell caused by the waters of the Pacific flowing into the narrow gaps of the Strait of Georgia, the span of water separating Vancouver Island from the Mainland. It was getting dark and Edward could just pick out the blurred shapes of the San Juan Islands off of starboard.
The islands were now American territory. Edward remembered what he’d learned in school about the Pig War. In 1859, an American settler on the islands had killed a Hudson’s Bay Company pig. Soon, American troops were facing off against British soldiers intent on arresting the farmer. It took the German Kaiser, Wilhelm I, to settle the dispute. He had awarded the islands to the United States.
Edward preferred to cast his eyes in the other direction, toward the Gulf Islands on his portside. No one challenged their belonging to Canada. He could just make out the Pender Islands, and beyond them, Saturna Island. He’d heard it had especially beautiful beaches.
As he stood at the ship’s rail, a man in a bowler hat approached him.
“Well, young man, where are you bound?” Edward told the man, who said his name was Duncan Ferguson, that he was going to enlist in the Canadian Militia, somewhere on the Prairies.
“Aye, m’lad, I think that fight’s about done,” Mr. Ferguson said.
He went on to tell Edward how a force of troops and North-West Mounted Police were battling the rebels. Mr. Ferguson spoke with such a thick Scottish brogue that Edward couldn’t understand all he was saying.
“In all my thirty years in this country I’ve never ken such confabulation.”
Edward said he was going anyway.
“You never know when the Indians might rise up and attack White settlers.”
The Rainbow was at full speed now, making between ten and twelve knots. That meant it would take nine or ten hours to complete the hundred kilometre journey to New Westminster. Edward thought he may as well go to bed; he wanted to be up early. His ticket included breakfast, and he looked forward to being awake when they entered the estuary of the Fraser River.
The next morning, with an appetite amplified by the bracing sea air, Edward was among the first to line up outside the dining room. Looking out, he could make out a long stretch of flat, empty land reaching back from the river, and beyond that, the sudden rise of mountains. There was a lumber mill and, next to it, a cannery where a lot of people were moving salmon onto long tables.
The dining room doors were flung open and Edward wasn’t ready for the rush of passengers. He felt himself being carried through the doors, and was pushed aside as men scrambled to take seats at the tables. Somebody knocked a Black waiter off his feet and the large platter of eggs he was carrying clattered to the floor. By the time Edward found a seat and waited for food to come his way, there was little left. He filled up on buns, toast, and coffee.
When the Rainbow docked in New Westminster, Edward saw that, since his last visit, the town had spread out further along the river’s north shore. About fifteen hundred people lived there, but it was still only about a quarter of the size of Victoria. A few three- and four-storey stone-and-brick buildings hugged the waterfront. Beyond them, on a hill sloping up toward the forest, wooden houses were scattered as though they’d been dropped by some strong wind that had blown through the place. On the other side of the river there was nothing but mud flats.
New Westminster in Edward’s day, viewed here in a photograph taken from the Fraser River, was a rowdy river town.
The usual commotion met the ship’s arrival. Dock workers started unloading cargo and passengers streamed off, one by one. After disembarking, Edward went straight to the Royal George h
otel, where he and his father had once stayed. There was a new man at the front desk. At first, he didn’t want to give Edward a room.
Rascals and Rowdies in a Royal City
New Westminster was a rough and ready river port, filled with rascals and rowdies. Queen Victoria named it after the city of Westminster, which is the area of London where the parliament buildings for the United Kingdom are located. Because of this connection, New Westminster became known as the Royal City.
New Westminster is the oldest city in western Canada and was the first capital of British Columbia. It lost the capital to Victoria when the colonies of British Columbia and Vancouver Island were united in 1866.
Thousands of miners passed through New Westminster in the Gold Rush, and it became the main outfitting point for prospectors. Known to the Chinese as Saltwater City, it had a large Chinatown along Front Street, one of the city’s most important streets. As the land became more valuable, the Chinese were pushed out to an area known as “the Swamp.” Today, New Westminster is a prosperous and beautiful city of more than 60,000 people.
“What are you doing here alone, kid?” he demanded. Edward told him he was going by boat to Yale and then by train up the Fraser Canyon.
“In that case, you’ll be here two nights,” he told Edward. “The next boat’s on Wednesday.
That’ll be fifty cents a night.”
Edward dug a dollar in coins out of his change purse, signed the register, and went to his room. The window looked out over the river and he could see goods being loaded on a steamer tied up at the dock. It was the Adelaide, the little vessel that would take him up the Fraser River to Yale. That was as far as boats could go before reaching the impassable rapids in the Fraser Canyon: no boat could navigate such a treacherous stretch. Rails had been laid north of Yale, as far as Van Horne (also known as Savona), a small settlement named after William Van Horne, the general manager of the railway.