It appears that the arrival of Colonel Wolseley and the expedition was looked for by the Indians, not only from a desire to see the soldiers, but for the most interested motive of explaining the price to be paid them for the right-of-way through their country.
— Kate Ranoe and Molyneux St. John, Globe, August 4, 1870
The Globe and Telegraph canoes arrived at Fort Frances on Thursday, August 4, with the first three brigades of the expedition — the Telegraph around 6:00 a.m., the Globe about five hours later. For months, everyone had looked forward to reaching Fort Frances because it marked the halfway point between Thunder Bay and Fort Garry. Getting this far meant nearly 300 miles of portaging, paddling, insects, and storms were behind them with only a couple hundred miles to go.
As a Hudson’s Bay post, Fort Frances was typical — a collection of wooden one-storey houses inside a wooden stockade with some outlying storage huts scattered around. The fort sat on the right bank of the Rainy River with a set of 20-foot falls below. The area surrounding had been cleared and featured “luxuriant grass,” a “good field of wheat, barley, and potatoes,” and “cattle feeding and lowing near the water.” Along the portage from the river to the lake were a dozen or so “Indian lodges” or “wigwams” housing several families of people related to the chief known as Crooked Neck, a very old man, thought Cunningham, “excessively dirty, with his head a little to one side.” Nearby was a cemetery with wooden caskets resting on frameworks about seven or eight feet off the ground. R-SJ said these were “the bodies of chiefs and their families.” From the fort, a few miles of western and southern expanse “could be appreciated.”
Hudson’s Bay Company post at Fort Frances.
On landing, the troops were given a few hours to rest. R-SJ said they “scattered themselves over the place” and bought up “everything that could be found” — fresh milk, bread, vegetables, et cetera. Then they hit the wigwams and bought up as many “stone pipes, bead purses, and similar articles” as would fit in their luggage. After a quick lunch, the lead boats, minus Wolseley, set off down the Rainy River to begin the last stretch of their journey.
Wolseley had business to attend to in Fort Frances, the first order of which was to meet with Captain William Butler concerning events in the Red River Settlement, specifically what the expedition could expect upon arrival. Back at Thunder Bay in June, Wolseley had sent Butler ahead to assess Fenian activity in the northern U.S. states and the political and military temperature in the settlement. Butler arrived at Fort Frances just before the boats did on August 4. He told R-SJ he had travelled overland from Thunder Bay to St. Paul and then boarded a steamer to Fort Garry. At Pembina on July 21, Butler said he saw a messenger “gallop off across the prairie” and assumed the man would alert authorities that a British officer had crossed into the territory. Deeming it “wise,” Butler and a man he met on the journey — William Drever, John Schultz’s friend — jumped “just short” of Fort Garry into knee-deep mud and made for Lower Fort Garry 20 miles away. Butler said he “escaped just in time” and evaded a dozen men dispatched by Ambroise-Didyme Lépine, Louis Riel’s adjutant general, to apprehend him. Drever and the luggage weren’t so lucky — the former was taken prisoner, the latter confiscated.
At Lower Fort Garry the next day, Butler was told it “wouldn’t be safe” for him to remain there, so he moved to “the Indian Settlement nearby.” The day after that, July 23, HBC Governor Mactavish’s son, John, rode up and told Butler that Riel was “much offended” at him for “having avoided the fort” and asked him to return. Butler said he wouldn’t visit the fort “until the rebel flag was hauled down,” Drever was released, and his luggage returned. Mactavish said he could make that happen and would send a buggy for Butler the next day.
Butler travelled back to Fort Garry on July 24 but found the “rebel flag” still flying above the fort. He again refused to meet Riel and went instead to the governor’s house where he played billiards in the recreation room. At some point, Riel came in, but Butler paid him “no account” and continued his game, “making occasional remarks about it to Riel and others in the room.” Butler told R-SJ this drove Riel into “a huff” and Riel stormed out. Luckily, HBC Governor Mactavish intervened, showed Butler’s billiard opponent out of the house, and left Butler alone with Riel to talk.
Butler said Riel spoke about his “love of peace” and his “good intentions” and made it clear he was “only keeping the fort until the troops arrive.” At some point, Père Lestang, “one of the most active of the rebel instigators,” walked in, keen to discuss the possibility of amnesty for the rebels but made it clear they would “welcome the soldiers without it.” Butler said he left shortly after “thinking that possibly the peaceable sentiments of Riel might subside and that he himself might be detained as a hostage for the personal safety of the Provisional President.”
Captain Butler wasn’t the only one waiting at Fort Frances with news from Red River. The Canadian government had hired Joseph Monkman (a “half-blood who’d lived all his life in the North-West country”) to provide intelligence, as well. According to R-SJ, Monkman said residents were living “very much as if there was a chance of a private war amongst themselves.” As a result, their “intercourse is guarded” and their “ordinary pursuits” weren’t being carried on as normal. Monkman said most settlers were afraid that if St. Boniface Bishop Alexandre-Antonin Taché were to allow a man such as Père Lestang “to threaten resistance to the troops, it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that Riel may be permitted to put these threats into execution.”
While Wolseley was meeting with Butler and Monkman, R-SJ said Crooked Neck and his people spent most of August 4 trying to figure out exactly who to talk to “about the price to be paid them for the right-of-way through their country.” They debated between Colonel Wolseley (“evidently a great man”), Assistant Controller Matthew Bell Irvine (with his “vast quantities of pork and flour”), and Captain Huyshe (with his “gold-laced cap”). The group decided Wolseley was the “Shemogeneche Gitchie Okey,” and at around 8:00 a.m. on August 5, arrived at the front door of the main building ready to negotiate. Eighteen delegates entered single file behind Crooked Neck and took up positions opposite Wemyss Simpson, Robert Pither, and Colonel Wolseley and his officers. Joseph Monkman and the government’s “interpreter” followed. R-SJ said the delegates were adorned in their ceremonial best — ornamented leggings, colourful shirts, a “profuse ornamentation” of beads and feathers about their heads, and a blanket over one shoulder or folded around the body.
The room was a large square space sparsely furnished with two high-backed settees, a simple cupboard, a stove, and a few wooden chairs. Strewn across the plain wooden floor were newspapers, writing pads, pens and ink, caps, satchels, glasses, and other military paraphernalia. R-SJ said that one of the delegates — not Crooked Neck — had been elected spokesman, and he sat down in a chair pulled into the centre of the room opposite Wolseley. The rest of the group squatted on the floor or sat on the settees and proceeded to smoke their pipes. The group watched Wolseley and the interpreter “severely, as if to see that their spokesman’s words were given aright, and that their effect was not lost upon the white chief.”
R-SJ related the gist of the powwow, which went on for some time. Wolseley opened the proceedings by walking around the room and shaking hands with each member of the delegation. He then returned to his chair opposite the spokesman and addressed the room.
“Although I am very glad to see my Indian friends,” Wolseley began, “I am sorry to be unable to provide any presents of provisions. We are hurrying through to Red River and have brought barely sufficient provisions to feed my own men. Mr. Simpson and Mr. Pither, however, have gone down to Canada just yesterday where I have instructed them to make arrangements for some presents to be brought up this fall or next spring.”
When the interpreter finished, the spokesman rose and crossed the room to shake hands with Wolseley and his staff again. He then returned to his seat and launched into his own speech in a “loud voice, and accompanied by frequent and violent gesticulation.”
The interpreter subsequently translated the spokesman’s words. “He says he is pleased to see the Great White Chief, and he desires to express to him the views of his people on the question of payment for a right-of-way through their country. He has seen Mr. Simpson and told him what is required, but he desires to repeat it to the Shemogeneche Gitchie Okey man himself.”
The interpreter continued. “With regard to the expedition passing through, this man says he has nothing to say, beyond that his people expected to receive presents this fall on account of it. Their business now, he says, lies with permission needed for emigrants and others to go in. His people are prepared to grant a right-of-way, but the payment for this must be ten dollars a head for each person — man, woman, and child.”
At this point, in order to “prevent the possibility of mistake on the score of children,” the spokesman lowered his hand “to within a foot of the floor.”
Then the interpreter carried on. “As for presents and provisions, this man says it is another thing. Of course, his white friends should send these, but in addition to anything of that kind he says his people require ten dollars a head — not three, as Mr. Pither had offered — but ten dollars a head for man, woman, and child.” Here the spokesman’s hand went down again to emphasize the point that “the size of the child was not to be taken into consideration when the time arrived for his allotment of dollars.” “This man,” the interpreter resumed, “says his people are much concerned about the purpose of the expedition. They have many relations in the Red River Settlement and say it would grieve them very much if the troops were to fight with these men.”
Next, Wolseley interjected, “Tell this man I can assure him that the expedition is a peaceful one and we will make no aggressive movement on their friends’ relations at Fort Garry. And as regards the question of settlers and the right-of-way, I can say nothing as I am concerned only with the expedition.”
Wolseley once again apologized for how he was unable to provide any food as presents and added, “As I am compelled to go up the lake, I trust you will excuse me.” He shook hands with the group and the meeting ended.
Later that morning, the Globe, its crew, and its passengers started down Rainy River for Lake of the Woods. Wolseley followed a few days after the first Ontario Volunteers arrived on August 7.