Chapter VI: Out of the North

One day when Mr. Bompas was walking along the Yukon River, he returned to Fort Yukon, and found there a letter awaiting him. It was from England from the Church Missionary Society, asking him to go all the way to London to be made Bishop of the vast northern Diocese of Athabasca, which was to be formed. Mr. Bompas did not want to be a Bishop. He preferred to live the life of a humble missionary among the Indians whom he so dearly loved.

In July, 1873, he set his face homewards with the express purpose of turning the Church Missionary Society from the idea. It was a long journey that lay ahead of him, fraught with many dangers and difficulties. The clerk at Fort Yukon, in charge of the American Fur Company’s post, kindly supplied him with provisions and with two Indian lads, who had volunteered for the trip. Soon all was ready, and then the start was made up the Porcupine River; and after two weeks of hard and persevering labour, he reached the Rocky Mountains. Here the Indians left him to return to Fort Yukon, and alone and on foot the missionary began his journey across the mountains. Three days was he in accomplishing the task, and in a furious snowstorm, “which rendered the mountains almost as white as in winter,” reached Fort McPherson, Peel River, on August 6.

* * * * *

What it means to cross these mountains may be learned from the terrible experience of Bishop Stringer during the fall of 1909. It is best given in the words of Rev. C. E. Whittaker, stationed at Fort McPherson:

“After the Bishop’s return from his Eskimo visitation, he outfitted for crossing the mountains by the well-known Rat River and McDougall’s Pass route with Mr. Johnson, who is on his way to Chicago, after eleven years’ service in the north. They had a sufficient crew, leaving here September 1, and a good Peterborough canoe; but on the fifth day one of their Indian men was taken dangerously ill, and he had to be sent home and more help procured. By this nearly a week was lost, and the weather becoming colder, the water got very low in the mountain streams. However, on September 20 they crossed the Divide. The two men attacked an unknown proposition alone. The battle with ice began the first day, but, hoping to find more and clearer water in Bell River, they kept on. The upper reaches of the Bell were easily navigated, but once through the mountains, the current became very slack, and the ice again hindered them. They cut heavy birch clubs to smash the ice, hoping to reach the Porcupine about forty-five miles from the summit. They were stalled, and had to cache their canoe and baggage. What was to be done now? La Pierre’s house was close by, but abandoned. There was not a known Indian camp within 100 miles. Old Crow or Rampart House might be reached in time if they had supplies, but with only three days’ rations it was unthinkable. Their starting-point, Fort McPherson, lay beyond the mountains, and the snow was already deep, and neither of them knew the trail. This last only seemed not impossible, and they decided to undertake it. Continuing down the Bell on foot, through the rough willows and deep snow, they struck the mouth of the La Chute River and followed it up-stream for several days, killing here and there a few ducks and spruce grouse to eke out their scanty fare. At Fool’s River, coming in from the north, they missed the trail, and spent a whole week wallowing through deep snow and deeper fog in this river and on the mountains near it. Returning to the mouth, they spent three days making snow-shoes and cutting up moccasins for webbing. Again ascending the La Chute, they climbed the Height of Land, and, working by compass, they crossed three distinct Divides before reaching an east-flowing stream. They saw one sheep, and once some caribou, but at too great a distance, and going fast. They were now living on one meal a day, and that meal was less than one quarter of an average meal. For instance, at one time four red squirrels and a spoonful each of flour and rice fed them three days; another day they had a leg of ptarmigan each. They tried eating moccasin leather, and ended on _messinke_ boots or _muckalucks_, which are made of raw seal-skin. These are found very nourishing. Food being so scarce, their strength failed and their progress was slow. At times the fog was so dense that they could scarcely see a step ahead, and more than once they trod on the verge of a precipice. Then they had to make long detours, and so they continued day after day, some nights sleeping on the mountains without fire, but generally in some creek-bed with a few willows, sleeping from very weariness and exhaustion. Once the Bishop said to Mr. Johnson: ‘It is curious, but there is ever rising up in my mind the words, “Go, labour on, ’tis not for naught.”’ And Mr. Johnson replied: ‘It is curious indeed, for in my mind there constantly repeats itself that other hymn, “To the work, to the work! ye are servants of God.”’ And so, though famished, and worn, and fog-bound, and never knowing how far they had yet to go to safety, they were ever buoyed up with a strong hope of ultimate escape. When they finally descended an eastern slope, and knew that they were at least past the maze of fog, a thrill of assurance gave them renewed energy, and they followed the bed of a small river until they came into the Peel, twenty miles above this post. Here they saw snow-shoe tracks, the first signs of any human habitation, an Indian having lately passed by that way trapping. Early next morning they reached an encampment, and they afterwards declared it was worth coming back to see the kindness and hospitality with which they were received.”

* * * * *

Starting again by canoe, Mr. Bompas, with two other Indian lads, reached Fort Simpson, a distance of 800 miles, on September 2, “after three weeks of fatiguing towing.” Pushing on his way, after a difficult journey, contending with the cold and swift stream, he reached Portage la Loche on October 8, having travelled 2,600 miles since July, “and all, except about 300 to 400 miles, against a strong current.”

Owing to the cold weather he was forced to remain at the Portage for ten days, and when the swamps were sufficiently frozen, he “started on foot through the woods to Buffalo Lake in company with two servants of the Hudson’s Bay Company.” Reaching the lake, he travelled with some difficulty on the fresh ice around the margin, and at the farther end found a camp of Indians, who guided him to Isle à la Crosse. Here a detention of ten days was made, and then he left with dogs and sledge for Green Lake, with three employés of the Hudson’s Bay Company. The weather becoming milder, they were forced “to cross one of the intervening rivers on a raft.”

From Green Lake they entered “on the plain country of Saskatchewan,” and after a walk of five days reached Fort Carlton. While here Mr. Bompas visited the Prince Albert Settlement on the banks of the North Saskatchewan, and says: “This settlement is the first that has been formed by the immigrants in that neighbourhood, and it bears every sign of increasing prosperity and success.”

From Carlton House, Touchwood Hills was reached with a horse and sledge. Here, through the kindness of the postmaster, he was furnished with a carriole and dogs, and, after a journey of 400 or 500 miles, reached the Red River Settlement.

“I enjoyed the kind hospitality of the Bishop of Rupert’s Land and Archdeacon Cowley,” wrote Mr. Bompas, “and was much interested in seeing the progress of the mission work in the colony. I reached, by God’s good providence, the first houses of the settlement on the last evening of the old year, and after nearly six months’ travel in the wilds, I awoke on New Year’s morning to a new life of civilization and society.”

It is said that when Mr. Bompas reached the episcopal residence and inquired for Bishop Machray, the servant mistook him for a tramp (in his rough travelling clothes), and told him his master was very busy, and could not be disturbed. So insistent was the stranger that the servant went to the Bishop’s study and told him a tramp was at the door determined to see him.

“He is hungry, no doubt,” replied the Bishop; “take him into the kitchen and give him something to eat.”

Accordingly Mr. Bompas was ushered in, and was soon calmly enjoying a plateful of soup, at the same time urging that he might see the master of the house. Hearing the talking, and wondering who the insistent stranger could be, the Bishop appeared in the doorway, and great was his astonishment to see before him the veteran missionary.

“Bompas!” he cried, as he rushed forward, “is it you?”

We can well realize how Mr. Bompas must have enjoyed this little scene, and the surprise of the good and noble Bishop of Rupert’s Land.

We will let Mr. Bompas describe the rest of the journey:

“From Manitoba the dog-train was exchanged for the stage-coach for Moorhead, the terminus of the American railway towards the north-west. In this the cold was piercing and freezing, even though the travellers were wrapped in buffalo-skins. The poor horses were utterly exhausted in drawing the vehicle about fifteen miles through the snow, and though they were changed thus often, yet at last the journey had to be suspended during a storm, and in the end the horses, though changed every stage, occupied a week in performing the same distance as that travelled by the dogs in four days, more easily and pleasantly—that is, 160 miles.

“The journey was next continued by railway, but from the fires not being lighted in the cars the cold was intense, and the train was shortly brought to a standstill in a snow-drift. Though two locomotives were tugging at it, no progress could be made till the guards with shovels disengaged the carriage-wheels from the snow which entangled them.

“In Canada the journey by stage-coach was resumed. This was shortly after overturned into a ditch by the wayside while scaling a snow-drift. The outside passengers were deposited in an adjoining field, where, to be sure, the snow provided them with a sufficiently soft bed to fall on. The inside passengers had a more uncomfortable shaking.

“The journey was next proceeded with by train to Montreal, before approaching which the cars left the rails, causing some apprehension and delay, which might have been increased had not the guard been provided with a powerful winch for the purpose of replacing the carriages on the track.

“From Montreal, following the Grand Trunk Railway to Portland, I embarked in the steamship _Scandinavian_, of the Allan line. At starting, the masts, yards, and deck of the steamer presented a woeful appearance, from being thickly coated and hung with ice, yet 200 miles were made the first day. By the constantly increasing head-wind, however, the daily speed was decreased down to 100 miles per day, at which rate the captain thought it prudent to shut off half the steam, and diminish the speed to a minimum, for fear that something should give way in the plunging vessel. After thirteen days, under the careful seamanship of Captain Smith, Liverpool was reached on February 13, in the safe-keeping of a protecting Providence.”

This account is given to show some of the difficulties the traveller experienced in the early days in his trips to and from England. Mr. Bompas, after this journey, decided in favour of the dog-team.

“On the whole,” he said, “the dogs may be counted to hold their own in competing with horse-flesh or steam, whether on land or water.”

At last the soldier was home from the front, the hero among his friends, and after the years of hardships he might have enjoyed a well-earned rest. But his thoughts were far away across the ocean in his vast field of labour, and the voice of the children of the wild was ever urging him to make haste. The restraints, conventionalities, and luxuries of civilized life worried him; the narrowness of the streets was unbearable, and he longed for the smell of the camp-fire, the free, fresh air of the North, the great untamed streams, the snow-capped mountains, and his dusky flock.

During his stay in England, Mr. Bompas had many commissions to fulfil, which occupied much of his time. There were purchases to make for people in North-West Canada, including six gold watches for as many female residents, and a pair of corsets for another. Obtaining the latter caused much worry to the missionary. But he was never known to back down, and finally the purchase was made. Is it any wonder that he preferred the life among the Indians, who worried so little concerning the wherewithal they should be clothed?

This picture shows a sled loaded up, with the dogs harnessed, and the Indian driver standing by them.]

Mr. Bompas was unsuccessful in dissuading the Church Missionary Society from carrying out their plan, and on May 3 he and John McLean were elevated to the Episcopate. The consecration took place in the parish church of St. Mary’s, Lambeth, Dr. Tait, Archbishop of Canterbury, being assisted by Bishop Jackson of London, Bishop Hughes of St. Asaph, and Bishop Anderson, late of Rupert’s Land. The sermon was preached by the last-named prelate, who referred to the two new dioceses of Saskatchewan and Athabasca:

“To-day the noble plan will be consummated by the consecration of two more Bishops. One will preside over the Church in the western portion of the land, labouring among the Indians of the plains, and along the valley of that river whose source is in the Rocky Mountains, the River Saskatchewan. The other will have the northern diocese as his own, along yet mightier lakes, and with rivers which roll down an immense volume and discharge themselves into the Arctic Ocean.”

After some words addressed to Bishop McLean, the charge which was given to Bishop Bompas concluded thus:

“You have been there for more than eight years, in labours abundant, and your love has not lessened nor your zeal slackened. You have brought home, as the fruit of your labour, portions of Scripture, prayers and hymns, in seven different dialects or tongues. You are ready to take the precious treasure out with you—the translations printed and prepared by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. You have also one complete Gospel, that of St. Mark, which the British and Foreign Bible Society has enabled you to carry through the press.

“But you left good treasure behind, in souls warmed with the love of Christ and softened by the spirit of grace. You have the hearts of the Indians and the Eskimo.”