A WINTER VIGIL.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 40, 28 October 1871, Page 17

A WINTER VIGIL.

In the winter of 186— it fell to my lot to investigate one of the most touching stories of a white man’s endurance and an Indian’s vengeance I ever came across in the whole Northwest. As some of the more curious portions of an official note-book of an Indian agent, I transcribe the memoranda relating to it. Albert Black was an honest English gentleman, whose adventures in search of fortune led him away from Regent street to wander in western worlds, and this is the way he ‘ put through’ a portion of the winter of that year. He was residing, with a single companion in a little log cabin at the Indian village of BellaCoola, on the coast of British Columbia. There was no white man nearer than one hundred miles, but the villages of many Indian tribes were situated in_the immediate vicinity. The winter was only half through ; few natives came trading about the post, and as time lay heavily on their hands, Black and his companion resolved to go hunting for a few days. A canoe was accordingly fitted out with a stock of provisions and ammunition, and with an Indian as steersman and pilot they proceeded to cruise about among the islands, now and then landing and stalking deer, or shooting the ducks and wild geese which assemble in countless flocks by the mouths of the north-western rivers in winter. The .season was mild, with but a thin coating of snow on the ground, so that each night they encamped in the open air, and slept well rapt up in their blankets round the blazing log fire. Eew old explorers in these countries ever think of carrying a tent with them, and our hunters were not possessed of one, even had they cared to avail themselves of its shelter. They had been cruising about in this manner for several days, when, as usual, they encamped one night on an island, with the canoe drawn up on the beach. Their provisions they built up around them, to guard them from the attacks of any prowling Indians or other mishaps. Their Indian pilot had informed them he was just about out of powder and bullets, at the same time begging to be supplied with some, exhibiting his pouch, which contained but two charges. The hunters were too tired to open their packages, and, notwithstanding his solicitations they put him off until morning. They then, as usual, loaded their rifles, the Indian doing so also ; and all three men lay down to sleep, and all slept save one.

How long they slept Black could not say, but all that he remembered was being awoke by the report of a rifle. A low scream, and then a moan by his side, told him that all was over with his companion. The Indian’s place was vacant; and before Black could become fully conscious of his situation, he was fired at from the dark, and a bullet struck his thigh. He attempted to rise, but was unable : liis leg . was fractured. Instantly he grasped his revolver, and he had scarcely done so before lie was conscious of a figure crouching towards him in the darkness. He immediately fired, but the shot did not take effect, and his would be murderer retreated behind some rocks. He now staunched the blood flowing from his wound as well as circumstances would permit, tying a liandkercliief around it. All doubt was now at an end that the Indian guide, tempted by the property, had murdered his companion, and was only prevented by the want of ammunition from dispatching him too. All night long—it seemed a year —he kept awake, too excited to sleep, though he was faint from loss of blood. Sometimes he would relapse into an uneasy sleep, from which he would be startled by the barking of his little dog, when he would grasp his revolver, only to see a figure again skulking into the darkness. Daylight at last came and he had not time to contemplate his situation. Helpless, badly wounded, far from white or even friendy Indians he was alone, with an enemy watching every moment to destroy him as he had done his companion, whose glassy eyes glared at up him. Provisions enough were lying scattered around ; but none were accessible as food, save the bag of sugar, and on this his chief chance of subsistence lay. He knew enough of science to know that Magendie’s dogs when fed on sugar soon grew emaciated, but he also knew that it supported life for a time. Before night snow fell and covered the dead body out of sight. Sometimes he would relapse into a . half-waking sleep, when again the evei’-faitliful dog, who seemed almost conscious how matters stood, would, warn him of the approach of his enemy. It was in vain that Black attempted to get a shot at him; and had it not been for the watchfulness of his dog-friend, the wreteh must soon have been able to despatch with his knife the guardian whose revolver intervened between him and tho coveted property. And so they kept their dreary vigils, and the snow fell heavily ; and though his leg pained him exceedingly, he managed to keep warm in his blanket lined burrow. The Indian would sometimes disappear for hours, ' and even a day, apparently looking after food. The poor hunter would then imagine that he had got clear of his bloodthirsty enemy, when again the barking of Flora would warn her master. On one or two occasions the Indian managed to approach within a few feet of his intended victim before his presence was detected ; and as both murderer and hunter were equally intent on each other’s destruction, escapes wei’e sometimes rather narrow. Several days e lapsed in this manner, until at last the Indian seemed to have grown tired and left the island in the canoe ; for they were no longer alarmed. The sugar bag was getting nearly done, and the poor dog was now so weak with hunger that even when it dad not absent itself searching for food on the shore, it was scarcely able to give an alarm. If Black survived hunger and his wound, which was now getting very painfid, the Indian, he knew, would spoil return to accomplish his purpose. With such thoughts his pros-

pects were gloomy enough, and so he dosed away the hours, half frozen and faint. It was the tenth night (he had long lost count of time, but found so afterwards) since the murderous attack, when he was awoke by a loud talking on the beach.

The moon, sailing over the leaden, s nowy sky, enabled him to recognise the figures of several Indians hauling a canoe on to the beach. He grasped his revolver, determined to sell his life dearly, for he was now fully pursuaded that it must be his murderer returned with assistance. It was strange, however, it struck him, that they had landed insuch an exposed situation. ‘ Who are you ?’ he inquired in thelChinook jargon—tlie trading language of the coast. A low, surprised cry came from them. They were apparently unaware of the presence of any one but themselves. Again he shouted more cheerily, and they approached him, when he was delighted to recognised the familiar faces of the Bella-Coola Indians—old acquaintances of his. He told them his story; and as they listened, he uncovered the body of his murdered companion, they, every now and again, bursting into a cry of horror. Food was prepared, and every attention paid to him. The dead body was buried, and Black conveyed to the Indian village, where he was carefully nursed until news reached the nearest white man’s abode. The solitary colonist hurried down, and happening, "to have been in earlier days an officer in the army, he knew a little about surgery. He dressed Black’s wounds, and conveyed him back to the settlements, where, under proper medical treatment, he slowly recovered. But it was many months before he could walk without crutches, and to the end of his life he will bear the marks of that fearful experience of ‘ putting through the winter’ in the dark days of 186 —. As we have a good deal (in novels) of the generous savage, I may as well say that my poor friend had to pay well for all the hospitality he receivced. The water he drank, the ground he lay on, the wood that warned him, the food he ate, everything was charged for, but most cheerfully paid. It is, however, a greater pleasure to relate that, after the bill was paid, the Indians threw in the execution of the murderer into the bargain. The avengers of blood found him in his lodge, comfortably awaiting the death of Black by starvation or cold, either of which he, no doubt, thought would save him all trouble. He seemed rather to exult when charged with shooting the white men ; but the Bella-Coola warriors took a different view of matters, and with a summary justice, which would have done credit to a Californian vigilance committee, they shot him where he sat. As for poor Black, I saw him dancing at a Christmas party not very long ago ; but a terrible limp, which caused liis partner to afterwards style him an ‘ awkward sort of colonial fellow.’