THE PILGRIM FATHERS OF ALASKA.
By Emma Hildreth Adams
ONE day in 1851 a staunch English ship, called the Satellite, might have been seen plowing her way through the Strait of Juan de Fuca, toward Victoria, Vancouver Island, then a mere frontier village containing one hundred and fifty inhabitants, and important only as a post of the Hudson Bay Company. On the deck of the Satellite, as she passed to her moorings at the town, stood a young Englishman, a native of Yorkshire, not yet twenty-two, his alert eye taking in every feature of the infant city and the diversified landscape beyond it. To him Victoria was the beginning of the end of a six months' voyage, during which he had found plenty of time to reflect upon the object which had brought him to the American northwest coast. If one may judge from his appearance today, the young man must have been of medium height, well built, with blue eyes, light hair, ruddy complexion, animated countenance, and a certain expression of features which denoted unflinching purpose. Some time prior to that date the commander of an English war ship, sent out to protect national interests on the coast of British Columbia, became deeply impressed by the depraved condition of the natives in the vicinity of Fort Simpson. They were cannibals, men tortured by frightful beliefs in evil spirits. They were fiendish, cruel, abject, and as dangerous as men ever become. Returning to England, the compassionate captain laid their case before the Church Missionary Society of London. To some of the members of that society William Duncan was known, not only as a young man of rare good sense, but also as a soldier of the cross who was ready to do duty in perilous places. The condition of these most unfortunate beings was made known to him, and he was asked to undertake the hazardous task of carrying the gospel to them. Mr. Duncan assented, and in less than fourteen days was on the sea, westward bound. Upon the arrival of the Satellite at Victoria, Sir James Douglas, then governor of British Columbia, courteously invited her captain and Mr. Duncan to his residence. Upon learning the object of his young guest's long voyage, Sir James strongly protested against its completion, asserting that only at the risk of the young man's life could he attempt to teach the barbarous Tsimpseans. Mr. Duncan was, however, not to be deterred by considerations so entirely personal. Perceiving this, the governor said no more, except to remark curtly, "The ferocious natives will certainly kill you." Transportation to Fort Simpson was rather infrequent in that early day, and not until the 1st of October did Mr. Duncan find himself at that point. Fort Simpson, a trading post of the Hudson Bay Company, was then inclosed by a close stockade over thirty feet in height, defended by cannon at every corner, and guarded by twenty-two well-armed men. The commandant of the place was hardly more sanguine of the young man's success than was Sir James Douglas. Indeed, both he and his assistants assured him that "the heathen would surely make away with him." "I was not long in perceiving," remarked Mr. Duncan to the writer, during a visit to New Metlakahtha, last July, "that a knowledge of their language was indispensable to my success with the wild Tsimpseans. As a first step, therefore, I devoted several months to acquiring their sweet-sounding tongue." Meantime from the high gallery inside the stockade the young missionary studied, daily, the life and customs of the savage race, and, as words were gained, he made brief sorties to their quarters, to make their acquaintance. At first Mr. Duncan was regarded by the Tsimpseans as a medical man of the white race, notwithstanding his youthful appearance seemed to render such a conclusion somewhat problematical, for their own shamen (medicine men) were all men of years, men of experience, before beginning the practice of their rude and weird art. Step by step Mr. Duncan won the confidence of the untutored natives, and finally astounded the occupants of the fort by taking up his abode among them. This act awakened in the minds of his countrymen rather lively anticipations of a cannibal feast, at which the rash youth would hardly figure as a guest. So far from this being the case, a step scarcely less impressive soon followed. This was the actual reduction of the height of the stockade. For months succeeding his change of abode the missionary's career was marked by various thrilling incidents. Some of these, related to the writer, will long be remembered for their exciting character. There were times when the benighted beings sought his life. On other occasions, in a frenzy of anger, they destroyed valuable property which had been accumulated especially for their benefit. One intensely dark evening Mr. Duncan was hastening to the fort, after a day spent in their village, when he became aware that some person was following him. Instantly divining who was his pursuer and what was his purpose, and knowing him to be one of the most dangerous men of his tribe, Mr. Duncan realized that escape was impossible. He therefore stopped, awaited the man's approach, and addressed him in kindly terms, exhibiting no signs of fear. The native, taken completely by surprise, appeared to relent, did nothing, and, after some gentle counsel from the missionary, turned and retraced his steps, as if impelled by an unseen power. If I am correct—I am writing from memory—the man afterward became one of Mr. Duncan's most faithful helpers. It has been said that, during the interval which Mr. Duncan devoted to the study of their language, so hostile sometimes became the demonstrations of the natives that the strength of the fort had to be increased on all sides by strong barricades. Many times fires were extinguished by night, lest, aided by their light, the foe should pick off the occupants by firing between the palisades. At the fort unremitting watch was kept day and night. For arms the natives possessed knives, swords, and rifles, which they sometimes flourished, to the dismay of the white men. A case somewhat in point is this: On one occasion a stalwart Tsimpsean urged his way within the stockade, and strode furiously about, brandishing his sword in the manner of a madman. His insolent march was soon cut short by the commandant, who, at an859opportune moment, sagaciously stepped behind him and threw over his shoulders a bright new blanket. Stopping quickly, the savage looked at it, grew pleased, remarked in Tsimpsean, "It is nice," and ceased his raging. While dwelling within the fort, Mr. Duncan witnessed several revolting instances of cannibalism among the people. Whatever happened to be the occasion, slaves were always the victims. He asserts, however, that only their shamen actually partook of the flesh. Two objects were supposed to be gained thereby,—the favor and influence of their deities was secured, and their own personal strength and bravery were increased. He mentions the putting to death for such purposes of an infant boy, a young girl, and, if the writer mistake not, a woman of maturer years. At the ceremonies the Tsimpseans, naked, and excited to a condition of frenzy, danced about like crazed fiends, while the shamen were transformed into wild beasts by their desire for the coveted food. Happily, to all such harrowing scenes there came an end. The horrors he witnessed but doubled Mr. Duncan's diligence in study, and the moment he could make himself understood, he began to tell the people the simple, effective story of Christ's life, teachings, and death. He arranged for them easy text-books in their own language, the structure, wealth and scope of which enable one to express therewith not only the profoundest truths of the Christian religion, but the richest thoughts of the human mind. Soon, then, the rude people were learning to read, to write, to think about truth, and to engage in steady occupations. Sadly enough, not long was it before this gratifying condition of things aroused the antagonism of the Hudson Bay Company. The new ideas were seriously affecting its profitable trade with the natives. The company could no longer deal with them as with ignorant savages. Having now been at Fort Simpson about five years, Mr. Duncan began to consider seriously the subject of removing his people beyond the deleterious influences of the post, and with them founding a new community, in which all who chose to break away from their old barbarous life might be built up into a civilized and Christian society. To this end the missionary selected a location covered with heavy forest and lying some twenty miles south of the fort. Here, immediately, he began preliminary work. The music of saw, ax, and hammer rang through the woods daily. With incredible speed the ground was cleared, and soon the town, now famous as Old Metlakahtha, began to arise on the spot. In 1862 Mr. Duncan removed thither, accompanied by as many Tsimpseans as chose to rally around his standard. His outgoing to a better life was bitterly opposed, it has been said, by the officers of the fort, who refused the parties transportation for even the most urgent necessities. Nevertheless, there was no abandonment of purpose on Mr. Duncan's part, and in a few years there existed at Metlakahtha a prosperous, self-sustaining community of twelve hundred Tsimpseans and other natives gathered from thirteen surrounding tribes. In fine, Metlakahtha was an Arcadian village, wherein reigned good order, industry, peace, and contentment. As speedily as possible provision was made for the varied wants of such an assemblage of improving people. A church, schoolhouse, and store were first erected. Then followed buildings for trades and industries, such as carpentry, weaving, cabinet work, soap making, brick making, salmon canning, sawing lumber, and others—all established through the enterprise of the indefatigable leader, through his talent for planning, and his remarkable genius for teaching, supplemented by the blessing of God, whom he delighted to serve and honor. Mr. Duncan himself first acquired a knowledge of all these pursuits, and then instructed his people therein, until, unaided by him, they were able to conduct them successfully, and to maintain profitable trading relations with the surrounding country. Upon becoming a resident of the place every adult was required to subscribe to the following I solemnly declare that, so long as I live at Metlakahtha, I adopt as my rule of faith the evangelical Christianity, which is based exclusively upon the teachings of the Bible. I also adopt the residents of Metlakahtha as my brethren. I choose to be governed by the laws of the queen of England, and I will dutifully submit to the by-laws imposed by the Native Council of the settlement. I also declare that I will neither do, nor allow to be done by those under my control, anything by which the church at Metlakahtha would become divided, and its peace be disturbed, nor anything that is opposed to the welfare and good morals of the village. I will do my utmost to promote the temporal and spiritual prosperity of my home. Each settler was also required to sign a card on which were recorded his name, the name of the tribe to which he belonged, and the date of his joining the settlement. This card furnished convenient reference when questions of priority or obligations to service sprung up. Not many years elapsed before the condition of affairs at Metlakahtha attracted attention in England. Although a member of the Church of England, Mr. Duncan had from the beginning conducted religious services for his people with the simplest possible rites, discarding entirely sacerdotal vestments and the ritualistic forms of the church, deeming a simpler mode of worship better adapted to the child-like minds of the natives. But to this course the church now objected, insisting that her prescribed forms should be employed. The missionary protested, as did the most devoted of his flock. Thereupon the church sent to them a clergyman to properly conduct the services. He presented himself one Sunday morning, clad in surplice and stole. But, being unable to speak the language of the worshipers, they by no means appeared to be edified. Noting this, the man wisely exchanged the pulpit for the pew, leaving the true pastor to speak to them of the truths by which they had been set free. A few similar unavailing attempts sufficed, and the little company in the wilderness was left to the guiding of the Chief Shepherd and their wise under leader. Not long prior to, or after, this time—I have not the exact date—the Metlakahthans became seriously disaffected toward the Canadian Government. With their growth in other directions they had acquired not a little knowledge of civil affairs and some important ideas concerning ownership of property. This led them to desire titles to the land on which they were living. The government refused to grant this, for, according to the Indian Act of Canada, all such inhabitants were to be kept on reservations. The application of the Metlakahthans for title was followed by certain negotiations which entirely failed. Thereupon, putting together the attempt of the church to interfere with their mode of worship, and the government's prohibition of their children's right of inheritance in British Columbia, they were moved to abandon their native land en masse, and to found new homes somewhere under the flag of the United States. Twenty-five years had passed since the hegira of the Tsimpseans from Fort Simpson. In that time they had developed remarkably in civilization and character. Permanent dwellings had replaced the hasty shanties they first set up. Their public buildings were a credit to the thriving town. There were centered the industries by which they gained support. There they had acquired the ideas of civil and religious liberty now so precious to them. There their children had been born. There their dead were buried. From all these strong ties it was no light thing to break away and begin life anew in a foreign land. Yet this the Tsimpseans finally did, with the full approval, sympathy, and aid of their leader. In looking around for a location on which to begin their new home building, choice was made of the island of Annette, anchored in the southern part of the Alexander Archipelago, some sixty miles north of the southern boundary line of Alaska. The important question was, "Would the Government of the United States secure the island to them?" To assure themselves on this point, Mr. Duncan went to Washington and laid the case of his people before the proper authorities. The speedy result was a gift of the island to him and his followers forever, with permission to settle thereupon immediately. The presentation of the land was made during the first administration of President Cleveland; the patent therefor was, however, issued not until some two or three years afterward. Returning from the East, Mr. Duncan proceeded directly to the island of Annette, where a small advance guard of the Metlakahthans had preceded him. An eyewitness has described the meeting between the devoted leader and his people as extremely affecting. Men, women, and children gathered round him, "weeping, while their hearts were full of joy and gladness." A few weeks subsequently Mr. Duncan and this little party were reinforced by about eight hundred of their brethren and friends from Metlakahtha, forty canoes, laden with the people and their effects, arriving on one day, and seventy on the next. The length of the voyage was eighty miles. Time had now brought the August of 1887.