Historv R.A.F.T. Assisnment
R: - Cuthbert Grant
A: - Anyone reading diary
F: - Diary
T: - Diary Entries of M6tis Captain: Cuthbert Grant
Spring 1799
Dear Diary,
The events that have occurred recently are unbearable. I can't even begin to describe my
emotions right now; upset, depressed, traumatized. My father.....has....died...DIED!
I'm only
6 years
old. I barely know him
and now he is dead?
It
is
just not fair!
A11
I
know is that he is from Scotland, and died of an unknown illness during one of his furtrading expeditions. He will be buried at Cumberland House. Oh well, I can't let my
emotions get to me. I have a long journey ahead of me. I am being taken from my
homeland here at Fort de la Riviere Tremblante, and I'm going to move to Montreal and
be baptized with my brother. This means for me things just went from bad to worse.
Montreal! Are they kidding me? Getting there is going to take forever. Oh, why am I
complaining? This would be perfect practice to prepare me for our annual buffalo hunts,
when I'm older of course. My mom says one day,
I'll
be shooting the buffalo while she
runs behind to skin and cut the buffalo. Well, I guess there is something positive for me
to think about, besides all of these other negative topics.
October 12, 1801
Dear Diary,
Wow, what a journey! I've finally arrived at the church. It's taken 3 years to get here.
According to my father's will, I was to be baptized at this church; St. Gabriel Street
Presbyterian Church, a church which he has donated money to build. I'm eight years old
now, and although long, the joumey was pretty fun. We came in a Red River cart, which
squeaked louder than a mouse being stepped on (most of the way) and was pulled by one
of our strongest oxen that we have back at "Fort de la Riviere Tremblante"; Faron. He
was great, but we stopped for breaks about 2 - 3 times aday, depending on the weather.
My mother, new guardian; William McGuillvary (via father's will), my brother James
and two other warriors from our settlement came; just in case things got out of hand, and
we were attacked. My mother taught me her recipe of pemmican (which is delicious),
and my new guardian, Mr. McGillivary, taught me the "keys" to trapping animals to get
the "perfect" furs. My brother and I often talked about what to expect in Montreal.
When we stopped for the night, we put up our teepees, made a fire, ate my mother's
pemmican and "soupe au bin" (bean soup), and listened to one another tell stories about
our ancestors. We would then fall asleep, in the warn furs from back home. Once in
Montreal, my brother and I were placed in the hands of James Grant, who would have us
baptized.
Anyway, the church I was baptizedinwasn't huge, but wasn't small either. It had a few
windows, and was made of stones on the outside. There was a small wooden frame
outside of the church. Well, now that I'm baptized, I'm going to be going to school over
in Scotland with my brother James.
t8t2
Dear Diary,
I
just came back from school overseas in Scotland. Boy, do I feel sick though. It was a
rough, long sail to here in Montreal. I've returned after being educated in the manner
of
the British Aristocracy. My brother James also came and we were sent by John Grant,
the guy that had had us baptized in Montreal. I leamed about medicines and I now carry
a medical pack
around. Now that I'm back, I've been appointed a position in the Red
River district; the canoe brigade of the North West Company. I've also been named a
clerk of a small outpost on the Qu'Appelle River. So, for my long journey back to Red
River, a little shorter than the one I took when moving to Montreal with my brother, I've
decided to arrive in
style. I am wearing
a frock coat, beaver hat, breeches, and polished
boots. I'm also bringing back my luxuries including
a robe, tent,
travelling desk,
preserved foods, and good wines. I travelled by canoe, a beautiful handmade wooden
craft. After
a long, exhausting
joumey with a stop at night for rest each day, I arrived at
the small outpost on Qu'Appelle River. I was welcomed by my mother's people and the
bourgeois of the NWC. Many are excited to see me, expecting a lot. The NWC officials
believe I'm capable of training and developing a M6tis military force capable of driving
the HBC out of the West. Although I'm a young man, I'm definitely determined to make
them proud, and do my best. My current task is to keep an eye on the progression
of
Lord Selkirk's settlers. As a result of this mission, I've been spending a lot of time at
NWC's Fort Gibraltar. This fort is important, as it guards the gateway to all the westem
trading regions from the junction of the Red and Assiboine Rivers. We've been trading
furs on a constant basis still here at this fort, but I do not like the looks of Mr. Selkirk
bringing in these settlers. I and many others fear that these settlers will interfere with our
buffalo hunts. If this is so, we will lose profits, as a result of no buffalo meat for
pemmican. As leader of the buffalo hunters, I, Wappeston, the rulme I've received from
the Indians as their sign of respect towards me, must keep an eye on the situation. Others
fear that the farmland they've farmed for years
will
be taken by these settlers, since they
have no legal rights to the land. This to me isn't fair, especially since our ancestors have
farmed these lands for many generations. I must also keep a watch for this as well.
All
I've got to say is, Lord Selkirk, watch who you mess with.
June 1816
Dear Diary,
I've had enough! Ever since January 1814, when the governor of Red River Miles
MacDonald issued that stupid "Pemmican Proclamation", I've wanted to kill every single
one of Selkirk's settlers. The law states that no food could be taken from Assinboia
without
a license, and
only he, the governor could issue one. This affects our people in a
major way, because the pemmican we made was sold by us to fi.r traders taking long trips
to the Northwest. This means less income for us, since pemmican and buffalo were our
main source of income. So, over the past2 years, I started a campaign to drive these
settlers out of the area. Many of us "half-breeds" have destroyed settler's crops, and
attacked Fort Douglas, buming some df the buildings. By last year,
I'd
say less than 100
settlers remained in Red River. We are getting excited but, we aren't completely happy
yet. We want them all out!
June 19, 1816
Dear Diary,
Victory is ours!! Finally we have the settlement to ourselves. Just
a
few hours ago, I was
leading the Bois-Brules through a forest looking for some firewood, but carrying
weapons, in case we needed to force some more settlers out of the area, maybe in case
some animals to
kill for food, or possibly
thinking caps on today, because
because
of
of an attack. Well, we had our
as we walked up through the forest, we came
to a grove
of trees, which, to my surprise had our new govemor of the area, Robert Semple, and his
men, emerging from behind it. Seeing the group before us, we hid behind the nearest
trees we could find, and opened
fire. When Mr. Semple's
men heard the gun shots, they
were so scared they almost forgot to draw their weapons; their mouths wide open with
shock and nerves. BANG, BANG. My men fired 10 shots, one after the other, instantly
killing
10 settlers, their bodies hitting the ground with a THUD, almost causing a small
earthquake. My men, skilled at defense, duck to the ground, avoiding any attack from the
settler's men. However, one of our men; Asham Isibiter, was too slow, and was struck in
the chest with a bullet. Falling to his knees, blood gushing everywhere, I quickly crawled
to his aid. My medical pack strapped over my shoulder, I tried to stop the bleeding. I
check for a pulse, but it's too late. Asham has his eyes rolled into the back of his head,
collapsing in my arms. I look over to the other side of the grove to see Mr. Semple,
smirking with satisfaction, oblivious to the action going on around him. Furious, I load
my musket quicker than ever before, a;rd aim it straight at the govemor. I pull the trigger,
but the bullet goes wide, hitting some other settler. Semple chuckles an evil, cold hearted
laugh, turning to load his musket, unaware of his surroundings. Not one settler remains
standing. By the time Semple looks up getting ready to aim, I've already drawn my bow
and arrow, which was hanging over my shoulder and back, and let
between the governor's eyes. The
off an arrow right
arow strikes him straight into his skull,
the force
killing him instantly. "VICTORY", I shout. The other men come out from behind the
tress, hollering at the top of their lungs. We as a group go to each settler we killed,
saying a prayer for each one, asking for forgiveness. We stopped and prayed for
2l
settlers, including Robert Semple. I then walked up to Asham, shifted his body over from
where he had died in my arms, and dug a hole. I and two other men placed him in the
hole, covering him with the
dirt. I then took my arrow I used to kill
Semple, and stuck
it
into the ground where our lost soldier had been buried. Then, our group walked back to
our settlement, ready to celebrate the victory, but also dismayed that one of us couldn't
join the festivities.