Slavery in Canada
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Slavery in Canada
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Pierre Radisson sat on the doorstep of his father's cabin in the little settlement of Trois Riviers. It was 1652, and Pierre was fifteen. He had straight black hair and dark eyes. This was his first spring in New France, but his had was already full of great plans.
"If only I could go with the fur-traders!" he murmured. "What a life of adventure they have! And how rich they become!"
Pierre's daydream was interrupted by two friends.
"Come along, Pierre," said Jacques. "Sneak in and get your gun. We are going along the north shore to Lake St. Pierre to shoot ducks. We shall be the first in Trois Rivieres to have roast duck this spring."
"I will bring back more game than either of you," Pierre boasted.
By noon, they had reached the shore of Lac Saint-Pierre, nine miles from Trois Rivieres. Jacques had two ducks and a goose. Philippe had four ducks. Pierre had only two ducks.
"Let's go home," said Philippe.
"No!" cried Pierre. "Two ducks won't be enough for the Radisson family. The hunting will be bettter in the reeds along the bay."
"Yes," replied Jackques, earnestly, "but we are too far out to be safe. Come back!"
"I'm not afraid!" cried Pierre, as he friends left. "I'll get more game than both of you together."
Pierre was right. In less than an hour, he had three gees, ten ducks, a crane and several water fowl that he could not name.
"Afraid, am I?" he snorted. 'And I don't know anything about hunting, either?" he added with a chuckle.
He arranged his game and strode proudly homeward.
At a bend in the trail, near the spot where he had left his friends, Pierre stopped. A buckskin hunting cap lay before him. It looked like the one Philippe had been wearing.
Trembling, Pierre bent forward. As he did so, a rustle in the grass shocked him into altertness. He lifted his head cautiously. Facing him, their heads raised above the long grass, were seven or eight Haudenausaunee warriors. Their eyes were fixed intently on him.
Without turning his head, Pierre glanced to the left and to the right. More heads arose as if by magic.
For one moment, no one stirred.
With a sudden movement, Pierre threw off his load of game, raised his gun, and fired.
In a flash, two Haudenausaunee warriors leaped at him from behind. His gun was knocked from his hands. One of the warriors picked up the gun with interest while the other held Pierre.
Pierre kicked and twisted furiously in an effort to free himself. He and his attacker rolled over and over in the long grass and the bushes. Sometimes Pierre was on top, sometimes the Natve.
The other warriors stood in a circle. Without approaching, they observed the struggle with sparkling eyes and approval.
Finally, the first warrior put down the gun. He grabbed Pierre's legs, and tied his ankles with a strip of rawhide. Then each of the two warriors grasped a wrist and hauled the captive to his feet.
Pierre scoweld as the Natives tied his wrists behind his back. They looked at him and grinned. The Iroquois admired a good warrior, no matter whose side he was on.
The warriors hurried their captive to the bay. Each drew his canoe from the reeds
Pierre counted. "Thirty-seven of them! And not a reed seemed out of place!"
Pierre's captor put him into the middle of his canoe and tied his hands to the cross-bar. The whole war-party gave three shouts and set off across Lac St. Pierre toward the mouth of the Richelieu River.
When they reached the islands at the mouth of the Richelieu River and made camp, another war-party came in, and another, and another. By nightfall there were two hundred and fifty Haudenausaunee from along the upper Richelieu. Pierre was the only captive. He was paraded around in every camp.
In one camp, a young warrior struck Pierre a blow. Pierre's captor made a sign that he should fight.
Because Pierre won the fight, his two captors called him "Brother" as they walked out of the camp.
That night, the two captors, dressed him in Mohawk fashion. They shaved his head on the sides. They rubbed bear's grease into a strip of hair that remained to make it stand up stiff and shiny and tied it at the back of his neck with a cord of red rawhide.
They stained Pierre's body, face, and the bare parts of his sclp with red powder.
Farther up the Richeliue, they landed at a village where the tribe seemed friendly. Once ashore, however, things were different. Pierre's captors were scowled at, jeered, and finally attacked. Greatly outnumbered, the two warriors dashed to their canoes and paddled desperately away, leaving Pierre.
The villagers seized Pierre. They armed themselves with war-clubs, and formed two lines, facing one another across a narrow lane.
"Run!" they shouted to Pierre, shaking their war-clubs at him. "Run! Run!"
Pierre looked down the narrow lane and his heart sank.
"I must be quick to dodge the blows as a I run this gauntlet, "he thought. "If I weave from side to side, I may get through alive."
There was a great shout as Pierre was pushed toward the head of the narrow passage. He took a deep breath and steeled himself, ready to make a dash for life.
At that momet, a woman's voice cut through the noise of the shouting, and the chief's wife ran to Pierre's side.
"This I have seen in a dream," she cried. "Every night since the sickness took my son, I have seen this youth in my dreams. Every night the Great Manitou has promised to send Orihma back to me. Come, greet your brother Orihma!"
So, Pierre was aved. And for two years he was Orihma of the Haudenausauneee.
Pierre did not waste those two years. He learned all that he could from the Six Nations, for he still dreamed of becoming a fur-trader and explorer, and he knew that some day he would make his escape.
When at last Pierre regained his freedom, he became the partner of his sister's husband, a fur-trader. Together they explored the unmapped waterways of the Great Lakes and far beyond them to the prairies. Later, they acted as guides in the Company of Adventureurers Trading into Hudson's Bay.
Pierre Radisson, Orihma of the Iroquois, had realized his dream and become a successful trader.
While slavery was prohibited in France, it was permitted in its colonies to provice the work force needed to clear land. New France had 4,200 slaves. About two-thirds of the slaves in Quebec were native people, mostly from the Pawnee nations. https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/200-years-a-slave-the-dark-history-of-captivity-in-canada/article17178374/
"If only I could go with the fur-traders!" he murmured. "What a life of adventure they have! And how rich they become!"
Pierre's daydream was interrupted by two friends.
"Come along, Pierre," said Jacques. "Sneak in and get your gun. We are going along the north shore to Lake St. Pierre to shoot ducks. We shall be the first in Trois Rivieres to have roast duck this spring."
"I will bring back more game than either of you," Pierre boasted.
By noon, they had reached the shore of Lac Saint-Pierre, nine miles from Trois Rivieres. Jacques had two ducks and a goose. Philippe had four ducks. Pierre had only two ducks.
"Let's go home," said Philippe.
"No!" cried Pierre. "Two ducks won't be enough for the Radisson family. The hunting will be bettter in the reeds along the bay."
"Yes," replied Jackques, earnestly, "but we are too far out to be safe. Come back!"
"I'm not afraid!" cried Pierre, as he friends left. "I'll get more game than both of you together."
Pierre was right. In less than an hour, he had three gees, ten ducks, a crane and several water fowl that he could not name.
"Afraid, am I?" he snorted. 'And I don't know anything about hunting, either?" he added with a chuckle.
He arranged his game and strode proudly homeward.
At a bend in the trail, near the spot where he had left his friends, Pierre stopped. A buckskin hunting cap lay before him. It looked like the one Philippe had been wearing.
Trembling, Pierre bent forward. As he did so, a rustle in the grass shocked him into altertness. He lifted his head cautiously. Facing him, their heads raised above the long grass, were seven or eight Haudenausaunee warriors. Their eyes were fixed intently on him.
Without turning his head, Pierre glanced to the left and to the right. More heads arose as if by magic.
For one moment, no one stirred.
With a sudden movement, Pierre threw off his load of game, raised his gun, and fired.
In a flash, two Haudenausaunee warriors leaped at him from behind. His gun was knocked from his hands. One of the warriors picked up the gun with interest while the other held Pierre.
Pierre kicked and twisted furiously in an effort to free himself. He and his attacker rolled over and over in the long grass and the bushes. Sometimes Pierre was on top, sometimes the Natve.
The other warriors stood in a circle. Without approaching, they observed the struggle with sparkling eyes and approval.
Finally, the first warrior put down the gun. He grabbed Pierre's legs, and tied his ankles with a strip of rawhide. Then each of the two warriors grasped a wrist and hauled the captive to his feet.
Pierre scoweld as the Natives tied his wrists behind his back. They looked at him and grinned. The Iroquois admired a good warrior, no matter whose side he was on.
The warriors hurried their captive to the bay. Each drew his canoe from the reeds
Pierre counted. "Thirty-seven of them! And not a reed seemed out of place!"
Pierre's captor put him into the middle of his canoe and tied his hands to the cross-bar. The whole war-party gave three shouts and set off across Lac St. Pierre toward the mouth of the Richelieu River.
When they reached the islands at the mouth of the Richelieu River and made camp, another war-party came in, and another, and another. By nightfall there were two hundred and fifty Haudenausaunee from along the upper Richelieu. Pierre was the only captive. He was paraded around in every camp.
In one camp, a young warrior struck Pierre a blow. Pierre's captor made a sign that he should fight.
Because Pierre won the fight, his two captors called him "Brother" as they walked out of the camp.
That night, the two captors, dressed him in Mohawk fashion. They shaved his head on the sides. They rubbed bear's grease into a strip of hair that remained to make it stand up stiff and shiny and tied it at the back of his neck with a cord of red rawhide.
They stained Pierre's body, face, and the bare parts of his sclp with red powder.
Farther up the Richeliue, they landed at a village where the tribe seemed friendly. Once ashore, however, things were different. Pierre's captors were scowled at, jeered, and finally attacked. Greatly outnumbered, the two warriors dashed to their canoes and paddled desperately away, leaving Pierre.
The villagers seized Pierre. They armed themselves with war-clubs, and formed two lines, facing one another across a narrow lane.
"Run!" they shouted to Pierre, shaking their war-clubs at him. "Run! Run!"
Pierre looked down the narrow lane and his heart sank.
"I must be quick to dodge the blows as a I run this gauntlet, "he thought. "If I weave from side to side, I may get through alive."
There was a great shout as Pierre was pushed toward the head of the narrow passage. He took a deep breath and steeled himself, ready to make a dash for life.
At that momet, a woman's voice cut through the noise of the shouting, and the chief's wife ran to Pierre's side.
"This I have seen in a dream," she cried. "Every night since the sickness took my son, I have seen this youth in my dreams. Every night the Great Manitou has promised to send Orihma back to me. Come, greet your brother Orihma!"
So, Pierre was aved. And for two years he was Orihma of the Haudenausauneee.
Pierre did not waste those two years. He learned all that he could from the Six Nations, for he still dreamed of becoming a fur-trader and explorer, and he knew that some day he would make his escape.
When at last Pierre regained his freedom, he became the partner of his sister's husband, a fur-trader. Together they explored the unmapped waterways of the Great Lakes and far beyond them to the prairies. Later, they acted as guides in the Company of Adventureurers Trading into Hudson's Bay.
Pierre Radisson, Orihma of the Iroquois, had realized his dream and become a successful trader.
While slavery was prohibited in France, it was permitted in its colonies to provice the work force needed to clear land. New France had 4,200 slaves. About two-thirds of the slaves in Quebec were native people, mostly from the Pawnee nations. https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/200-years-a-slave-the-dark-history-of-captivity-in-canada/article17178374/
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