Chapter XIII: The Fall of Fort Pitt

On the morning of April 14th, Corporal Cowan, Constable Loasby and Henry Quinn left Fort Pitt on a scouting trip. A little later Big Bear’s warriors appeared at the top of the hill, 800 yards behind the fort, demanding its surrender and that the police give up their arms. Little Poplar, who was camped with his family on the south bank of the Saskatchewan opposite Pitt, first saw the hostiles and with characteristic Indian inconsistency warned the garrison.

To this demand Captain Dickens replied that he would hold the fort while there was a man able to point a gun. The Indians held a council and decided that its capture by direct attack would cost them too many men. They therefore sent a second message to say that the police would be allowed to evacuate the fort without molestation if they would do so. Big Bear and Little Poplar accomplished this. The old chief’s letter, written by Halpin, reads as follows:

“FORT PITT,
“April 14th, 1885.

“Sergeant Martin, N.W.M.P.

“My dear Friend,

“Since I first met you long ago, we have always been good friends.
That is the reason why I want to speak kindly to you: please get off
from Fort Pitt as soon as you can. Tell your Captain that I remember
him well, for since the Canadian government has had me to starve in
this country he sometimes gave me food. I do not forget, the last
time I visited Pitt he gave me a good blanket. That is the reason
that I want you all out without any bloodshed. We had a talk, I and
my men, before we left camp at Frog Lake and thought the way we are
doing now the best, that is to let you off if you would go. Try and
get away before the afternoon, as the young men are all wild and hard
to keep in hand.

“BIG BEAR.

“P.S.

“You asked me to keep the men in camp last night and I did, so I want
you to get off to-day.

“BIG BEAR.”

Captain Dickens still refused to move and the Indians next day resorted to strategy. They invited W. J. McLean, chief trader of the Hudson’s Bay Company in charge at Pitt, to a parley in the open ground half-way between the fort and the camp. Against the advice of Captain Dickens, McLean went, taking with him as interpreter a half-breed, François Dufresne. Without exciting his suspicions, they gradually drew McLean away until out of range of the fort and then told him the discussion would be concluded in their camp. McLean had no alternative but to go with them. They were all seated, McLean urging them to return to Frog Lake and abandon the idea of taking Pitt, when the three scouts, Cowan, Loasby and Quinn, returning from their trip, came suddenly in view and attempted to ride past the camp.

Instantly all was excitement The Indians seized their guns and rushed to cut off the scouts. It was over in a few moments—the garrison at the fort took a hand—but the account of this must be reserved for another chapter.

Alarmed by the firing, McLean jumped to his feet and said he must return to the fort. Wandering Spirit levelled his rifle on him, but Little Poplar threw his arms around McLean. The war chief placed his hand on the chief trader’s shoulder.

“You stay here!” he stated bluntly. “You are a prisoner.”

At the command of the Indians, Mr. McLean then wrote the following letter:

“TOP OF THE HILL, FORT PITT,
“_April 15th, 2 p.m._

“MY DEAR WIFE,

“Most unfortunately I have been too confiding in the Indians and
have come into camp. After I had had a long talk with them and they
had spoken at length, they would not have it otherwise than that the
police must and should go away at once. I continued talking with
a view of gaining time for the three men who were out. They, the
scouts, came on the main road and firing ensued. Immediately the
whole camp went after them. I thought the Indians were aware of the
men being out and said nothing about them. Had I spoken, perhaps
things might have been different. Now, in the excitement, they have
made me prisoner and have made me swear by Almighty God that I will
stay with them.

“Alas, that I came into the camp at all, for God only knows how
things will turn out now. They want you and the children to come into
camp and it may be for the best that you should. If the police cannot
get off the Indians are sure to attack to-night, they say, and will
burn the fort. I am really at a loss what to suggest for the best.
For the time being we might be safe with the Indians, but provisions
will be scarce after a short time and we may suffer. The chiefs and
councillors say they will let me go down the Beaver River with my
family, and if so we should be all right. Stanley must come also and
everyone connected with the Company. They want Malcolm and Hodson
also. I will write you again after hearing what Captain Dickens says
about allowing you all to come out. I candidly believe it best that
you should come, as the Indians are determined to burn the fort if
the police do not leave. They have brought coal oil with them for the
purpose and I fear they will succeed in setting fire to the place.
The Indians promise that beyond a doubt after you all come out they
will retire and give the police time to get off before making any
move. They wish you to bring your things at once. We must do all we
can to move out before dark so as to give Captain Dickens and his men
a chance to get away. May God bless and guide you all for the best.

“W. J. MCLEAN.”

On receipt of this letter Mr. McLean’s family, the civilians and the Company’s servants prepared to join him.

The position of the police was now most precarious and a retreat was ordered. There was no longer any reason why Dickens should attempt to hold Pitt, since he and his men alone remained. But little time was left for preparation. Ammunition and provisions were placed in the scow and carrying the wounded scout, Loasby, with them, the detachment marched down to the landing. The scow was launched, but water poured in through the open seams. It seemed for a time as if it would be impossible to cross the river. There was an interval of dreadful suspense—that the Indians would take advantage of the delay and attack was anticipated by everybody. But Big Bear kept his word and with the help of Little Poplar held in check the more truculent members of his band. At last the opposite shore was reached. Little Poplar’s family was in camp there and the part of the sub-chief in restraining the young men loses some of its glamour from this fact.

It was a terrible night. A terrific storm raged, the river had broken only on the 10th and great blocks of ice raced on its turgid angry flood—but let me quote from the diary of Corporal R. B. Sleigh, the gallant soldier who had left Frog Lake just before the outbreak and escaped so many dangers, only to meet kismet a little later:

April 2—Constable Roby left with team for Onion Lake, brought
back lumber. Indians out there terribly excited. Mr. Mann, farm
instructor, with wife and family arrived at 1 a.m. with report all
whites killed at Frog Lake. Assembly at 12 p.m. All hands working all
night, blocking windows and making loopholes in all buildings. Double
picket.

3—Good Friday. Henry Quinn in from Frog Lake, reported all whites
shot. They were led out for execution, when he ran for his life and
managed to escape; poor fellow played out and showed good grit.
Everybody busy pulling down outside buildings and barricading fort.

5—Mr. Quinney, Episcopal clergyman escaped from Onion Lake, held
short service. Indians heard shouting on hill during night; shots
fired.

7—Stockade being erected. The Misses McLean show great courage and
each, rifle in hand, stands at a loophole. Men work like horses and
are cheerful. All civilians sworn in and armed. Bastion put up left
front of fort. Sentries in each house; four hours duty each. 9—Second
bastion put up orderly-room corner.

14—No relief; things look blue. Everybody in good spirits. Body of
Indians at top of hill; 800 yards from fort; 250 Indians armed and
mounted. Big Bear sent letter down; everybody to evacuate fort and
give up arms. Doors barricaded; men in places. Big war dance on hill.
Indians skulking through woods in every direction. Double sentries on
barracks.

15—Hudson’s Bay Company employees, 28 in number, gave themselves
up to Big Bear. Impossible to hold fort now, so had to retire
gracefully, carrying Loasby, across the river in scow and camp for
the night, not forgetting to bring colours along. Nearly swamped in
crossing; scow leaking badly. General idea prevailed we would be
attacked going down river. Thus ended the siege of Fort Pitt.

16—Up at 4.30 after a wretched night; snowing fast and very windy.
Moving slow. Several men frostbitten. Clothing frozen on our backs.
17—Started 7 a.m. Ice running very strong. Some narrow escapes in ice
jams. Camped at 9 for dinner. Resumed trip at noon. 18—Dull and cold.
Much ice running. 19—Left Slapjack Island 7.13 a.m. Ran five hours.
Camped Beaver Island. Ran three hours; camped Pine Island for night.
20—Here all day. Barricaded scow; inspected arms. Rough-looking
parade. Wounded man better. 21—Left 7 a.m. At 11 hailed Josie
Alexander and two policemen on south bank with despatches for us.
Battleford safe; troops expected daily. Ran all day; stopped small
island for night. River falling; stuck on sandbars. All slept aboard
scow; two men on picket.

22—Started 5.45 a.m., reached Battleford 9 a.m. Garrison turned out
and presented arms. Police band played us into fort. Enthusiastic
greeting. Ladies gave us a grand dinner.

Among the valuable things secured by the Indians at Pitt, was the gold watch worn by Charles Dickens and bequeathed by him at his death to his son, Captain Francis J. Dickens. The police were obliged to leave practically all their personal property when they quit Fort Pitt and in his anxiety for the safety of his men the captain must have forgotten for the moment that his famous father’s most cherished gift to him, this watch, was in his trunk. A few days later a half-breed, Alfred Schmidt, showed me the watch at Frog Lake.

“I give you for fifteen dollar,” he said.

I examined it closely. The engraving on the outside of the case had been partially effaced by wear. On the inside was traced the name “Charles Dickens” and a date. A small gold locket attached to the chain held a miniature of his wife and a braid of her hair.

I should have liked to secure the watch, with the view of returning it to the captain should our paths ever cross again. This seemed so problematical as to make it appear hardly worth while planning for the future. Besides, the Indians had appropriated everything I possessed, including my money; fifteen dollars was away beyond my depth. However, I had the satisfaction of learning from the captain later at Battleford that he had recovered his prized memento on the surrender of the hostiles and as he died the following summer in Indianapolis, the well-worn timepiece which served to mark the hours devoted to the fortunes of David Copperfield and the delightful excursions and mishaps of the ingenuous Mr. Pickwick, and at which we can imagine the great author so often glancing, is now no doubt in the possession of one of his other sons or daughters.

Louis Patenaude gave me an amusing account of the looting of Fort Pitt.

Forcing the doors of the H. B. stores, the Indians rushed in. Each seized the first thing he could put his hands on. It might be a cask of sugar, a chest of tea, a princely fur, a bolt of calico, a caddy of tobacco, a keg of nails—it was all one. Off he rushed, set it down outside and hurried back for more. When he returned his first prize was certain to be gone; another—a weaker brother—had appropriated it. A woman might get hold of a fine wool shawl, some buck fancy it for his wife and she would be forcibly dispossessed. It was bedlam and war for the spoils, Indian expletives mingling with blows and outcries. Tins of Crosse & Blackwell’s Yarmouth Bloaters, jars of pickled walnuts and pâté de foie gras, imported at great expense all the way from London, were slashed open with knives, sniffed at and flung on the ground. The police hospital stores were got at. The red men evidently believed all medicines in use by the police were “comforts”; they drank them, until one old man nearly succumbed; then they decided the enemy had tried to poison them. They hesitated to use the sacks of flour piled in tiers for the defence of the fort; the police, they thought, might have mixed strychnine with it.

Between the suspense and the blizzard that raged, the night of April 15th, 1885, to me in the Indian camp at Frog Lake was one of the most miserable I have ever experienced. The Indians had taken the blankets off my own bed at the time of the outbreak and had not Patenaude secured for me somehow a tanned cowhide with the hair remaining I should have had nothing to cover me when I slept. On this night the snow sifted down through the poles at the open top of the lodge and wet me through as I lay on the damp hard ground. I shivered with the cold and could sleep only in fitful snatches.

Next day was bright and warm, but two feet of snow had piled up during the night. That evening shortly after dark a messenger arrived with news of the bloodless victory of the Indians at Pitt. His horse had waded through snow to his belly and was steaming with sweat. It may be imagined with what relief this information was received by us, for the threat of Imasees was still fresh in our minds. By the Indian code, blood demands blood. If a fellow-tribesman is slain by an enemy, any other member of the nation to which the slayer belongs may pay with his life. The red man’s vengeance is no respecter of persons.

The day following, all the band came in with their captives. We now had other prisoners to share our troubles and we felt better. The new arrivals included three young ladies, the daughters of Mr. McLean. Misery always did love company.

The prisoners in the camp after the fall of Pitt were, besides Mr. McLean and his family, James K. Simpson, F. Stanley Simpson, John Fitzpatrick, Rev. Père Legoff, Mrs. Gowanlock, Mrs. Delaney, Rev. Chas. Quinney and wife, George G. Mann and family, H. R. Halpin, J. B. Poirier, Malcolm McDonald, Robert Hodson, Otto and François Dufresne, Henry Quinn, John Pritchard and myself. There were besides a number of half-breeds, ostensibly prisoners, but some of whom at least I should be slow to list in that category.