
* A Project Gutenberg Canada Ebook *

This ebook is made available at no cost and with very few
restrictions. These restrictions apply only if (1) you make
a change in the ebook (other than alteration for different
display devices), or (2) you are making commercial use of
the ebook. If either of these conditions applies, please
check gutenberg.ca/links/licence.html before proceeding.

This work is in the Canadian public domain, but may be
under copyright in some countries. If you live outside Canada,
check your country's copyright laws. IF THE BOOK IS UNDER
COPYRIGHT IN YOUR COUNTRY, DO NOT DOWNLOAD
OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS FILE.

Title: Simon Fraser
Author: Denton, Vernon Llewllyn (1881-1944)
Illustrator: Jefferys, Charles William (1869-1951)
Date of first publication: 1928
Edition used as base for this ebook:
   Toronto: Ryerson Press, 1928
   [The Ryerson Canadian History Readers]
   [first edition]
Date first posted: 31 August 2010
Date last updated: 31 August 2010
Project Gutenberg Canada ebook #605

This ebook was produced by: Al Haines




_The Ryerson Canadian History Readers_

EDITED BY LORNE PIERCE


Endorsed by

IMPERIAL ORDER DAUGHTERS OF THE EMPIRE

RECOMMENDED BY THE PROVINCIAL BOARD OF EDUCATION




SIMON FRASER


By

V. L. DENTON, B.A.

_Author of "The Far West Coast"_




PRICE 10 CENTS




THE RYERSON PRESS

TORONTO




SIMON FRASER

In the year 1805 the partners of the recently enlarged North-West
Company met at Fort William to discuss their affairs.  Their great
rival, the Hudson's Bay Company, had gradually extended its fur posts
throughout the Saskatchewan lands and had for some years competed for
the trade along the Athabasca and Mackenzie Rivers.  Every vantage
point had been secured and there was little prospect of increased
returns in furs from that well-farmed territory.  There still remained,
however, a virgin and unoccupied field, the lands beyond the Rockies.

Alexander Mackenzie had made one memorable dash across these mountain
lands and down to the sea in 1793.  With the exception of Finlay's
venture four years later, no one had attempted to follow up the route
which Mackenzie had opened.  But now the time was opportune.  The
North-West Company was in a strong financial position through its
recent amalgamation with the X Y Company.  Mackenzie's presence
radiated new force and abounding energy.  The mountain lands should be
invaded by the Nor'-Westers, and the exclusive trade of those lands
secured if possible.  As an added spur came news of the American Lewis
and Clark expedition, which even then crawled laboriously yet steadily
along the Missouri toward the passes of the Montana Rockies.

In the summer, then, of 1805, the partners who had assembled at Fort
William, chose Simon Fraser to lead an expedition up the Peace, over
the divide, and down to the valleys of the Great River, the Tacoutche
Tesse, the upper waters, as they thought, of the Columbia.

[Illustration: SIMON FRASER DESCENDING THE FRASER RIVER, 1808.  _From a
Painting by C. W. Jefferys, R.C.A.  Courtesy of the Canadian Bank of
Commerce_.]

Who was Fraser that he should be selected for this important and
difficult undertaking?  It is easy to surmise that he was no ordinary
fur trader and that he had already made himself a partner of importance
in the North-West Company.  Of his early life up to the time of this
expedition we know but little.  There are flashes here and there which
give us a dim and unsatisfying picture of his early struggles, of days
at school, and of fur trading.  In those hard-fisted times of give and
take, Fraser rose from the ranks, a self-made man, with all the natural
reticence of one whose very success in life is based upon his own
sturdy self-reliance.

Simon Fraser came of good highland Scottish parentage.  His father,
Captain Simon Fraser, had received a good education and was known for
his understanding of Gaelic poetry and music.  The new world called, as
it has done to many another of Scotland's sons, and Captain Fraser
emigrated with his wife and children about the year 1773.  He purchased
land near Bennington, Vermont, and there three years later, a son was
born, also named Simon, after his father.  When the War of Independence
broke out, Captain Fraser joined a band of Loyalists and supported the
British cause.  He was taken prisoner in a small skirmish, and lodged
in Albany jail where he died, some thirteen months later.  His house
was broken into and wrecked, and all the family records which he had
brought with him to America were destroyed.  The widowed mother and her
nine children removed to Canada as soon as it was possible, in or about
the year 1783.  The family settled first at Three Rivers, but afterward
removed to St. Andrew's in, what is now, Ontario.

About this time Simon was sent to school at Montreal, where he resided
with his uncle, John Fraser, then Chief Justice of that district.  At
the age of sixteen the boy left school and entered the service of the
North-West Company.  Interest in the fur trade was keen, fortunes were
being made, the life was one of adventure and appealed to a fearless,
healthy lad.  That very year (1792) Alexander Mackenzie was leading his
men up the Peace, in preparation for his great dash over the mountains
to the sea.

In the winter of 1795-6 we find Fraser at Lac la Ronge, probably a
clerk at the North-West Company fur post.  He was acting as agent for
the Company at Grand Portage during 1797.  In 1802 he became a partner,
at the age of twenty-six, after but ten years of service.  He was then
sent to the Athabasca and we hear of him at Fort Liard in 1804.  This
was rapid rise and promotion, due no doubt to his energy, foresight and
general ability in handling the Indians and in furthering the interests
of the trade.  Fraser came back to Fort William in 1805 to attend the
annual meeting of the traders.  It was there that he received his
instructions to open up and pre-empt the western lands across the
Rockies.  He was thoroughly conversant with the Athabasca district, he
had been inured to hardship and danger from early childhood, he was the
man on the spot, and, naturally, secured this position.

It would be no sinecure.  He would be well over a thousand miles from
Fort William; he would be many hundred miles from Fort Chipewyan, the
last considerable base of supply in Athabasca territory.  Despite these
vast distances he was expected to make the venture pay its way.  Furs
must be found in sufficient quantities to make the occupancy of the new
region worth while.  Otherwise it would be abandoned and failure would
be written across an adverse balance sheet.

So, in the fall of 1805, Fraser ascended the Peace River with twenty
men in well-loaded canoes.  At the foot of the Rockies he built an
encampment which he named Rocky Mountain Portage.  While his winter
quarters were under construction, Fraser took six men and ascended the
Peace River, and then went up the Pack River to its source, a beautiful
lake seventeen miles in length, which he named McLeod, in honour of a
friend.  There, "on a peninsula formed by a tributary and its outlet,"
he built a trading post.  Fort McLeod is still occupied, and is known
as the first permanent fur post to be erected on the mainland of
British Columbia west of the Rocky Mountains.

Fraser left three men at the new post and returned in November to his
base at Rocky Mountain Portage.  His little band consisted of John
Stuart, James McDougall and fifteen voyageurs.  Their quarters proved
to be none too comfortable and the men employed their time chinking the
seams of the log houses, cutting firewood, making snowshoes and hunting
deer.  They not only lived "off" the country but also provided a store
of dried meat in preparation for their expedition across the mountains
the next spring.  Small bands of Slave Indians visited the fort during
the winter, trading beaver skins and meat for powder and ball.

But things were not going smoothly at the little post on McLeod Lake,
and early in 1806, McDougall, with three men, was sent on to take
charge and spy out the country.  Fraser left on the 20th of May, and
within eight days covered the fifteen-mile portage, loaded his three
canoes and arrived at the forks of the Parsnip and Finlay.  But the
Parsnip was already in flood, with its banks inundated beyond the
willow fringe, and running like a mill race.  It took eight more days
to reach the Pack River, days of unremitting toil in torn and leaky
canoes.

They reached Fort McLeod on June 7 to the joy of McDougall, who had
been anxiously awaiting them.  New canoes were made and two Sekanais
Indians were engaged to act as guides.  Descending the Pack River on
the twenty-third, Fraser continued his voyage up the Parsnip to a small
lake, then over the divide of "817 paces" to the Bad River.  Overcoming
all difficulties, July 10 brought the canoes to the Fraser.  Floating
out upon its comparatively placid current, the voyageurs made good time
and reached the mouth of the Nechako the next day.

Fraser had been following in Mackenzie's track to this point.  But in
view of the information gained by McDougall in his trips out of Fort
McLeod, he decided to paddle up the Nechako in order to reach the land
of the Carrier Indians.  The branching riverways finally led him to the
broad expanse of a beautiful, mountain-rimmed lake, which Fraser
promptly named Stuart Lake, in honour of his chief clerk.  Rounding the
shore of the lake for a short distance, Fraser soon came to a large
Carrier encampment at the mouth of Beaver Creek.  The scene which
followed has been most vividly portrayed by Father Morice and we quote:

"On landing, Fraser's men, to impress the natives with a proper idea of
their wonderful resources, fired a volley with their guns, whereupon
the whole crowd of Carriers fell prostrate upon the ground.  To allay
their fears and make friends, tobacco was offered them, which, on being
tasted, was found too bitter and thrown away.  Then, to show its use,
the crew lighted their pipes and, at the sight of the smoke issuing
from their mouths, the people began to whisper that they must come from
the land of ghosts, since they were still full of the fire wherewith
they had been cremated.  Pieces of soap were given the women, who
thinking them to be cakes of fat, set upon crunching them, thereby
causing foam and bubbles in the mouth, which puzzled both actors and
bystanders.  All these phenomena, however, were soon explained away,
leaving no suspicion in the native mind, but a most pronounced
admiration for the foreigners and their wares."

Introductions over, Fraser at once set his men to work clearing land
for a new fort on the shore of a shallow bay about a mile from the
outlet of the lake.  This post became known as Fort St. James, and has
a most entrancing situation.  The lake itself is about fifty miles in
length and four to six miles in breadth.  So charmed was Fraser with
this pleasing prospect that he could not but recall his mother's
description of her highland home, and, thinking to give honour to the
birthplace of his ancestors, he called the whole district New Caledonia.

The construction of the new post went on apace, but supplies began to
run low and soon all were upon short rations.  Berries, a few carp when
they could be caught, and now and then a beaver, provided a scanty
living.  The salmon for some reason were late in coming up the rivers
to their spawning grounds.  The Indians were also starving.  In this
predicament Fraser thought it wise to divide his forces and at the same
time examine more of the country.  So, toward the end of August, Stuart
and two men set out over an old Indian trail in a southerly direction
to find another lake which the Indians reported to be about forty miles
distant and the centre of a numerous Indian population.  A week later
Fraser set out in a canoe to meet Stuart, whose report was so
encouraging that a post was at once constructed near the outlet of what
we know to-day as Fraser Lake.

Then the salmon arrived in their thousands.  Everybody ate salmon.
They had salmon "meal after meal, and day after day."  But this very
surfeit of long-looked for food turned the men's stomachs, and Fraser
writes, "I assure you I am tired of living on fish."

And now, with four trading stations in running order, Fraser looked
forward to the next part of his adventure, the following of the
Tacoutche Tesse to the sea.  But no goods had arrived from Chipewyan,
and there were barely enough even to supply the forts on Stuart and
Fraser Lakes.  So Fraser spent the winter at Fort St. James and bent
his energies to the fur trade.  Thus passed the summer of 1807, with
still no word from the east.  At length, in August, two loaded canoes
arrived in charge of Jules Quesnel and Hugh Fairies.

These men brought Fraser further instructions from Fort William.  The
company wished Fraser to undertake, at his earliest convenience, the
complete and thorough exploration of the great river which flowed
turbidly south into the unknown.  Word had reached Fort William of the
success of the Lewis and Clark expedition in reaching the mouth of the
Columbia.  It was known that John Jacob Astor proposed to establish
posts at the mouth of that river.  It behooved the Nor'-Westers to move
quickly if they wished to secure the advantages of a possible outlet to
the sea by way of that river.  In view of this intelligence and with a
number of men available, Fraser built one more fur post that fall.
This was Fort George, built at the mouth of the Nechako near the
present city of Prince George.  During the fall dried salmon was laid
by in large quantities in preparation for the forthcoming venture in
the spring of 1808.  Canoes were built and everything was made ready
for an early start in the spring.

On May 28 four canoes shoved off from Fort George on an epochmaking
voyage down the most dangerous of all the Canadian rivers.  Fraser had
John Stuart and Jules Quesnel as lieutenants, while nineteen voyageurs
and two Indians completed the party.  Eighteen miles below the fort the
canoes raced through the Fort George Canyon, where one of the flotilla
almost struck against the precipice which forms the right bank.  The
journal of the voyage tells us that after running down several
considerable rapids Fraser "put ashore at 11 a.m. to breakfast."  There
had been no time to eat that morning, there had been too many things to
do, too many last-minute articles to pack, too much excitement to think
of food.  The voyage continued during the afternoon and we learn that
the party "encamped at six--put our arms in order--gave ammunition to
all hands, and established a regular watch.  We gathered some wild
onions for sauce."  So ended the first day's journey.

On the 29th they ran the Cottonwood Canyon with partially loaded
canoes.  At the foot of the rapids three bales of salmon were put in
cache.  This act was repeated at intervals until the canoes were stored
under shelters at Pavilion Creek.  Fraser was providing food reserves
for his return.  That evening camp was made at Quesnel River.

The next day the strong current carried the canoes swiftly down past
Soda Creek.  The country all along was charming.  It was apparently
well inhabited, a number of houses having been seen.  At length the
canoes drew near to an Indian camp.

These Indians warned Fraser of the river below.  They assured him that
he would find it but a succession of falls and rapids, which it would
be impossible to pass.  But Fraser was not to be daunted.  He quietly
remarked that his determination to go on "was fixed."  Then the clamour
ceased, and the Indians paid silent tribute to the bold purpose of the
white leader.

Fraser tells us that these Indians had heard of firearms but that they
had never yet seen one.  They soon became most curious as to the manner
in which they were used.  Several shots were fired and the astonished
Indians dropped to the ground in fright.  Nor did the marks on the
trees reassure them and they hastened to tell Fraser that all the
Indians of that tribe were good and peaceable.  "Here," wrote Fraser,
"we lost our swivel--it had a flaw before, and firing it at this time,
perhaps with an overcharge, broke it into pieces, and wounded our
gunner."  For the moment they were children together, the Indians lost
in admiration, the voyageur showing off the white man's might.

It is probable that this friendliness carried its own reward, for the
next day Fraser secured the services of a well-known chief as guide and
interpreter.  A long rapid was encountered the next afternoon, and upon
examination it was decided to encamp for the night and to make a
careful reconnaisance in the morning.  It was found to be a dangerous
place with high, steep banks which contracted the channel in many
places to a breadth of forty or fifty yards.  The water rushing through
the narrow defiles formed hollows, waves and cascades, "and making a
tremendous noise, had an awful and forbidding appearance.
Nevertheless, since it was considered as next to impossible to carry
the canoes across the land, on account of the height and steepness of
hills, it was resolved to venture them down this dangerous pass."

Fraser ordered five of his most expert canoe-men to try the descent in
a lightly-loaded canoe.  After passing the first cascade the little
craft was seen to lose her course and was drawn into an eddy or whirl
where the men were helpless.  After a time the canoe was led into the
stream once more, where, flying from one danger to another, and when
near the last cascade the whirlpools forced her against a projecting
rock despite the desperate efforts of the men.  It was fortunately a
low point and the men clambered up, managing at the same time to save
the canoe.

Fraser had watched from the bank, powerless to aid his comrades
struggling in the stream below.  Seeing the poor fellows safe for the
moment he hastened to their assistance.  Even the rescue was "perilous
and difficult."  The bank was high and steep and the rescuers had to
plunge their daggers at intervals into the bank to check their descent,
lest they slide into the boiling torrent below.  Steps were cut into
the steep slope, a line was lowered and fastened to the front of the
canoe, and while those above pulled, those below supported the canoe
upon their arms and in this way all were saved.

It was then decided to carry the other canoes and goods over the steep
hills and broken country which lined the river for two miles.  This
took two days of heart-breaking and back-breaking exertion.  During
that time the river rose another eight feet.  It had become a raging
torrent, which still further increased the danger of attempting to
continue down the stream by canoe.

Day followed day, each with its own dangers, its narrow canyons, and
its mile-long portages.  On June 8 the water had fallen three feet.
This made for safer going and encouraged the men.  The next day, near
Kelly Creek, Fraser led his men through a canyon which once more tested
their nerve and utmost skill.  At that point the channel contracts to
about forty yards, and is enclosed by high, steep walls which bend
toward each other making it narrower above than below.  The vivid
impression of that passage is given below as Fraser inscribed it in his
journal:

"The water which rolls down this extraordinary passage in tumultuous
waves and with great velocity had a frightful appearance; however, it
being absolutely impossible to carry the canoes by land, all hands
without hesitation embarked upon the mercy of this awful tide.  Once
engaged the die was cast, and the great difficulty consisted in keeping
the canoes clear of the precipice on one side, and of the gulphs formed
by the waves on the other, then skimming along as fast as lightning,
the crew, notwithstanding, cool and determined, followed each other in
awful silence--and when we arrived at the end we stood, as it were,
gazing congratulation at each other upon our narrow escape."

That was enough.  The next day, when near Pavilion Creek, Fraser gave
orders to erect a scaffold for the canoes in a shady place and to cover
them with branches.  The articles which could not be carried were
buried nearby.  Then the whole party set off along Indian trails, high
up the river bank.  Each man carried an eighty-pound pack of
indispensable necessaries.  It was dragging work, down one ravine side,
up the other, then over a sloping hillside among loose gravel and sharp
stones.  The men grew tired and sullen.  Far below the river wound and
thrashed its way among the rocks and cliffs which lined its banks for
many a mile.  The Indian guide and the interpreter both disappeared.

At length, on the 14th, Fraser came to a large Indian village near the
present Lillooet.  It was a welcome sight.  There a small canoe was
purchased and by this means some of the loads which the men were
carrying could be transported.  The following day a second canoe was
secured, and in this manner the party proceeded, part by land, part by
water.  The river is navigable for some distance below Lillooet and
Fraser would gladly have purchased more canoes but the Indians refused
to part with them.

On the 19th Fraser arrived at a large river flowing in from the left.
This he named Thompson River in honour of his friend David Thompson.
Across the river on the left bank they found the large Indian village
of Camchin.  The little town of Lytton now occupies the place where
Fraser, in 1808, shook hands with twelve hundred Thompson Indians.
They were kindly and courteous, their oratory "notable" and the manner
of delivery "extremely handsome."  Salmon, berries, oil and roots in
abundance were supplied to Fraser and his lieutenants, while the
voyageurs were made happy with six nice fat dogs.

A few miles below Lytton the Fraser begins its wild plunge through the
ribs of the Coast Range.  Dangerous box canyons and rapids mark its
course.  When the Fraser is in full flood it is impossible for boat or
canoe to run down the surging stream.  To-day the traveller glides
smoothly and quickly along over rock-hewn road bed, over bridge and
through dark tunnel.  Seen from a height the danger of the seething
waters is not apparent.

Within an hour after leaving Lytton, Fraser was forced to land and
portage around the Cisco Rapids.  The Indians informed Fraser that some
years since several of their people "having lost their balance from the
steps giving way, rolled down to the river and perished."

The next day the going was equally difficult.  The canoes would proceed
a few miles, then a portage would be made.  In trying to run down a
short rapid one canoe was swamped and overturned.  Two of the men saved
themselves by swimming through a quiet eddy.  Then the canoe split on a
rock and the third man was carried three miles holding to a portion of
the canoe, until a friendly wave threw him upon a sloping bank more
dead than alive.  Four days of labour brought them but thirty miles, as
far as Boston Bar, near Anderson Creek.

On the 25th Fraser approached the entrance to the Black Canyon.  The
canoes were unloaded, the men shouldered their packs, and the whole
company set out along the rude Indian trail over the steep hills and
precipices which enclose the river for nearly ten miles.  This proved
to be the most dangerous trail of all, and Fraser tells us at some
length of his trials at this time.  Some of the Indians from the
village at Boston Bar had followed the white men down the river and now
were of the greatest help.  Near the top of one ascent where the rock
was perpendicular, "an Indian climbed to the summit, and by means of a
long pole drew us up, one after another.  This work took three hours.
Then we continued our course up and down, among hills, and along steep
declivities of mountains, where hanging rocks and projecting cliffs at
the edge of the bank of the river made the passage so small as to
render it difficult at times, even for one person to pass....  In
places where we were obliged to hand our guns from one to another, and
where the greatest precaution was required to pass singly and free of
incumbrance, the Indians went boldly with heavy loads....

"We had to pass where no human being should venture.  Yet in those
places there is a regular foot path impressed, or rather indented, by
frequent travelling upon the very rocks.  Besides this, steps which are
formed like a ladder or the shrouds of a ship, by poles hanging to one
another, crossed at certain distances with twigs, suspended from the
top to the foot of immense precipices, and fastened at both extremities
to stones and trees, furnished a safe and convenient passage for the
natives, but we, who have not had the advantages of their education and
experience, were often in imminent danger when obliged to follow their
example."

It is doubtful if Fraser could have got through the canyons between
Lytton and Yale without the aid of the Indians.  They were constantly
kind, they provided food willingly, and they carried many a pack over
the rough places.

From Yale to the sea the river is navigable.  Now their dangers from
cascade and rapid were over for the time.  The mountain walls were seen
to spread apart and the river became a sluggish, wide-flowing stream
winding between low banks.  The primeval forest stretched back from the
river a dense, dark green, feathery mass of fir, cedar and hemlock,
while in the distance great mountains shone in the sun, their
snow-covered summits alternately clear or wrapped in fleecy cloud
blankets.  Along these low shores Indian villages were to be seen from
time to time.  These were not the friendly Indians of the canyons but
the true Coast Indians, strong in number, suspicious of visitors, at
war with the Cowichans of the Gulf and altogether more formidable than
the up-river types.  Here were seen large cedar canoes, hollowed by
fire and neatly polished.  The houses were immense structures of
upright cedar logs, sheathed with wide plank split from the cedar tree.
The Coast Indians are as truly Indians of the Cedar Tree, as the plains
Indians were dependent upon the buffalo and the Eastern or Algonquin
tribes upon the matchless birch.

About noon, July 2, Fraser landed at a village which was probably near
the present Coquitlam.  The Indians were friendly and pressed food upon
the weary, hungry party.  But, when Fraser prepared to embark the
Indians became noisy and vociferous.  They clustered around the Chief
and embraced him "with so much emotion and tenderness, as if he was
never to return."  They were afraid, they said, of the Cowichans, or
Indians of the Sea.  The Chief refused to go further and demanded his
canoe.  Fraser was in a quandary, presents were refused, they would not
sell a canoe.  There was no way open but to use force.  While the
Indians stood in doubt, the voyageurs boldly launched the big canoe and
clambering in proceeded without their Indian host.

Within a few miles Fraser came to the present site of New Westminster
where he noted that the river divided into several channels.  He took
the north channel and after several hours' paddling came in sight of
the long-sought sea, the Gulf of Georgia.  On the right shore a large
village was seen, called by the natives, "Misguiame," and to this
Fraser directed his course.  On that very situation there still stands
a small Indian village known as Musqueam.  Motors rush by on the
highway above the village and a golf links in the vicinity speaks
eloquently of the peace and security of the white man's occupation.
Two miles farther west, at the tip end of Point Grey, the visitor of
1928 will find grey stone buildings and the campus of the University of
British Columbia.

On the afternoon of July 2, 1808, the scene was far different.  A giant
forest of cedar and fir covered the highway, the intervening lands, and
the University site.  Musqueam was then a large village with wide cedar
houses in rows, while in the centre stood an immense communal hall or
fort, ninety feet wide and one thousand five hundred feet long.  At
least five or six hundred Indians must have had their home at this
favoured spot for fishing and fur trade.  Fraser and his men were much
surprised upon landing to find but a few old men and women, the others
having fled into the woods upon his approach.  The white men wandered
through the village, viewing with interest the houses, their
compartments, the Indian utensils and furnishings.  An hour passed in
this fashion with no sign of danger, until they returned to their canoe
to embark.  There lay the forty-foot canoe high and dry.  The tide had
ebbed and a soft, muddy expanse separated them from the stream.  It was
necessary, therefore, to drag the canoe for some distance to the water.

The natives, who had been watching from their concealment in the
forest, now found their courage and began to make their appearance from
every direction, dressed in their coats of mail, brandishing their war
clubs, and howling like so many wolves.  It was a close call.  The men
tumbled into the canoe and shoved off just as the foremost savages
neared the water's edge.  Fraser and his men were fortunate to escape
with their lives.  After some moments of indecision Fraser turned the
canoe up-stream.  He desired to explore further along the Gulf shore,
but the larder was empty and he saw no prospect of securing food from
the hostile Cowichans.  Then too the Musqueams had launched canoes and
were slipping along the bank keeping their quarry in view.  It was
decided to return at once, and with all speed, to the more friendly
Indian village at Coquitlam.  Then, "if thought proper and expedient to
return," they could prosecute their design of visiting part of the sea
coast.

Fraser remarks in his journal of his "great disappointment in not
seeing the main ocean, having gone so near it as to be almost within
view."  So keen was his disappointment that he completely overlooked
the fact that he had discovered a new river to which his name might be
given.  Or, if you like, this new river, his river, was so beset with
canyon and rapid, so enclosed by sheer rock mountain walls as to be of
no value for a trading route.  From a merchantile viewpoint his
exploration had ended in expense and failure.  In fact the value of the
Fraser as a through artery of trade had to await the building of the
Cariboo Waggon Road (1862-64) and the advent of the railroad (1883-85).
To-day the Fraser water-gap through the Coast Range provides access to
the Gulf of Georgia for Canada's two continental railway systems.  And
we are interested in Fraser, the man, because of the heroic fight he
and his brave men waged against turbulent waters and, in some
instances, equally dangerous aborigines.

The return up the river to Yale was as full of peril as fickle Indian
tribes could well make it.  Fraser and his men drove their heavy cedar
canoe against the current until eleven that night.  They had nothing to
eat and rested on the shore till daybreak.  Starting shortly after
daybreak they arrived at the Chief's village (Coquitlam) at five
o'clock.  The Chief gave the hungry men food to eat but demanded the
return of his canoe.  This being refused he became angry and the
Indians crowded around with loud and noisy protests.  Fraser offered
payment; a blanket was spurned; a knife, an axe, all were refused.  The
Chief would neither sell nor rent.  Then Fraser cut the knot, and by a
show of boldness ordered his men into the canoe, shoved off, and set
out up the river.  The Indians, led by their Chief, followed in lighter
and swifter craft.  Growing bolder they attempted to surround Fraser's
canoe and upset it, and were only driven off by a row of levelled
muskets and by "threats and vehemence" on Fraser's part.  The Indians
then dropped behind but continued to follow at a distance.  So the long
afternoon wore away and as the shadows of evening spread over the land
and across the broad expanse of the river the pursuing Indians were
seen to haul their canoes on shore.  Fraser and his men continued on
through the night in order to get to the next village in time to secure
provisions before the arrival of the Chief and his band.  It was dreary
work, "the night was dark and the current strong."  Yet, by eight in
the morning they hauled out at the village.

In the midst of friendly clamour, the pursuing party arrived, still
bent upon mischief.  The Chief "began to testify his hostile
disposition by brandishing his horn club and making a violent harangue
to the people of the village....  He claimed his canoe."  Hoping to
quell the rising storm and if possible rid himself of this pestiferous
trouble-maker, Fraser returned the canoe, offering further payment
which was angrily refused.  It would be useless to attempt to enumerate
the trials of the following days.  Only a brave man, a born leader of
men, could have weathered the gale of suspicion and resentment which
the pestiferous Chief spread among the once friendly natives.  Their
villages under the spur of his resentment became points of menace
rather than havens of succour and refreshment.

All this had a depressing effect upon the men.  On Wednesday, July 5,
encircling, hostile Indians forced Fraser to land at a spot some miles
below Yale.  There was discouragement and near mutiny among the
voyageurs.  They declared their intention to abandon the canoe and
proceed overland through the mountains on foot rather than to risk the
passage of the river.  It took all of Fraser's persuasion to rehearten
the men.  Stuart and Quesnel stood solidly behind their leader.  At
last all took an oath, "sooner to perish than forsake in distress any
of the crew during the present voyage."  Then the men dressed in their
best clothes, returned to the canoe full of spirit, "singing and making
a great noise."

The effect upon the Indians was no less remarkable.  Instead of closing
in they kept their distance, amazed at such show of spirit and afraid
to attack.  Gradually one by one their canoes dropped down the far side
of the river and the way ahead was clear to Fraser and his lusty
voyageurs.  It proved to be the turning point in the retreat.  The day
had been won.

Fraser passed the Chilkotin on the 25th, and the next day he was in the
vicinity of Soda Creek.  From there to Fort George the "going" is
comparatively easy and the last entry in the journal is under date of
August 6, 1808, "Set out early and at noon arrived at the Fort where we
found Mr. Fairies with his two men."  With these simple words the vivid
and arresting tale from the pen of Simon Fraser comes to an abrupt end.

We wish there had been an epilogue, something or someone to tell us how
Fraser crossed the mountains and presented his report to the partners
at Fort William.  We do not know when he made his report or how the
partners received it.  We can only surmise.  It is probable that there
was disappointment at Fort William because the Tacoutche Tesse had been
found to be other than the Columbia.  And Fraser's account of his river
showed conclusively its uselessness as a fur trading route to the sea.
It is probably due to these factors that so little note was made of
this heroic venture at that time.  This may probably have hindered
Fraser from publishing his account as did Alexander Mackenzie in 1801.

The events which remain to be chronicled are meagre enough.  In 1811
Fraser was rewarded for his services in establishing the fur trade of
New Caledonia, by an appointment to the important Red River Department.
In 1816 he was present at the affair of Seven Oaks near Fort Garry when
Governor Semple was killed.  Fraser retired from the North-West Company
in 1821, and married Miss McDonnell, of Matilda, Ontario.  He made his
home at St. Andrew's, on the Ottawa, where he engaged in business, but
with indifferent success.  He died April 19, 1862, at the advanced age
of eighty-six.

Simon Fraser rose from a humble home to a position of influence in the
affairs of the powerful North-West Company.  The great river of British
Columbia proudly bears his name, a lasting tribute to his strength of
purpose, and his devotion to duty.  Fraser was a faithful man, strong
and steadfast as are the mountains of the New Caledonia he loved so
well.




[End of _Simon Fraser_ by V. L. Denton]
