The Naturalist in Vancouver Island and British Columbia, Volume 1 (of 2)Lord, John Keast
History
The Naturalist in Vancouver Island and British Columbia, Volume 1 (of 2)
Lord, John Keast
British Columbia -- Description and travel; Natural history -- British Columbia; Vancouver Island (B.C.) -- Description and travel
Once I managed to escape through the pickets at the back of the
fort, and stealthily reaching the beach, under cover of the trees,
imagined myself safe. A light misty rain fell thickly, and a flock
of sanderlings, running along in the ripple, completely absorbed my
attention. I was suddenly startled by hearing the ‘crunch, crunch’
of a foot in the shingle behind me. I had looked right and left on
reaching the beach, but not a trace of Indian was visible. Turning
suddenly round, you can picture my surprise at finding myself face to
face with a savage, unclad from head to heel, carrying—what should
you imagine?—not a scalping-knife, or a war-club, or bow or spear or
gory scalp: it was an immense green gingham umbrella, a thoroughbred
‘Gamp,’ with horn crook, battered brass ferule, furled with a ring such
as curtains are hung on. He politely offered me a part, and scarcely
deeming it safe to refuse, I paraded the beach, linked arm-in-arm with
the ugliest specimen of humanity eyes ever beheld. I wonder if, before
or since, a naked savage and civilised man ever walked together on the
sea-beach, listening to ‘what the wild waves were saying,’ sheltered
from the rain by a green gingham umbrella! I trow not. I should have
been no more astonished at seeing a seal, or old Neptune himself, with
an umbrella, than I was at a naked Indian so protected on the beach at
Fort Rupert.
This was not my only adventure whilst staying at the fort. The beach
runs out very flat for a long distance seaward; the rocks appear
a slaty kind of shingle, with seams of coal cropping out in every
direction. The pines (_Abies Douglassii_) grow down to highwater-mark,
attaining a height of 250 feet and over, straight as a flagstaff. On
the branches are placed quaint-looking affairs, that you discover, on
inquiry, to be coffins; but how the friends of the departed get the
boxes up into the trees, or how they keep them there when they are up,
is more than I can tell. The coffin is usually an old canoe, lashed
round and round, like an Egyptian mummy-case, with the inner bark of
the cedar-tree; but of this, and other singular customs, I shall have
to speak more at length in a future chapter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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