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In the service of this great company, Donald Smith
spent 30 years of his life. When he appeared upon the scene, Sir George
Simpson was Governor. So absolute was his authority, and so autocratic his
manners, that he was called "King of the Fur Trade," or ''Emperor of the
Plains." Beneath his forbidding exterior, however, he was a man of great
ability, and had acquitted himself with credit in critical times, and was
recognized as a power in all the vast region. By his orders the youthful
newcomer was sent to Labrador, where a new department had been
established. Perhaps there is no bleaker place on the earth. There he
spent 13 years of his life.
We have very little detailed account of how he spent
his time. We may be sure that in those dreary solitudes—where the winter
is eight months long, and the thermometer often 50 below zero—where his
only companions were the Indians with whom he traded, and the few comrades
at the store--his mind must have turned wistfully to the home in the old
Scottish town and the friends he had left behind. The reality of his
experience must have shattered his romantic visions. Ambition? Wealth?
What chance of these in this God-forsaken and man-forsaken spot? It seemed
as though he were buried alive—cut off from every chance and prospect of
success, doomed, after a life of toil and obscurity, to end his days in
this appalling wilderness. So he may have thought, but there is no record
of such reflection. It was a hard school into which he was put, but not a
bad one. It developed in him those qualities which afterwards stood him in
such good stead - self-command, initiative, decision and courage. We may
be certain that often in those years he was thrown upon his own resources;
had to guard against danger; had to be mentally alert; had to adapt
himself to different situations. No better training for his later years
could be provided than the experiences of Labrador and Hudson's Bay.
As to how he occupied himself during this long
period, we may venture to guess. There were the routine duties of the
post. There was trading with the Indians and trappers—giving in exchange
for their furs, the goods they had shipped from Europe. There was hunting
and fishing, and long tramps on snow-shoes, driving the dog trains.
Occasionally the monotony was broken by the arrival of the mail, bringing
letters and papers from home. We must remember that the mail came at long
intervals. This was an event to which they looked with anticipation and
which occurred not more than twice a year. The post route was long and
dangerous, covering a distance of 2,000 miles from Quebec to Ungava. This
immense distance had been traversed by Donald Smith on foot and 'with
dog-sleds. The news from home started from Bersimis, 150 miles below
Quebec, then to Mingan, thence to Eskimo Point, thence to Bonne Esperance
and finally to Rigoulette, the headquarters of young Smith. In this bleak
region travellers were often overtaken by blizzards and their lives were
in peril. More than once the young man missed his way, and with his native
companion was compelled to take shelter for the night with no protection
but their blankets till the storm had passed. It was necessary for the
traveller to he always prepared with plenty of warm clothing and an extra
supply of provisions, for no one could tell in what an evil plight one
might find himself.
The long winter nights would be spent in reading, in
writing lengthy letters home, and in cultivating his mental powers. Ile
did not know what he was doing, but he was really getting ready for tasks
of which he never dreamed. Thousands of youths elsewhere, richly endowed,
besieged by every opportunity, were wasting the golden hours, while this
raw lad was carving for himself out of the barren north the material for a
splendid career.
It was certainly a period of grim and stern
discipline. The Company's officers were of necessity stern and rigid.
There is a story told of the young man which, if true, illustrates the
strictness of the rule, it is said that being troubled with a complaint
which affected his eyes, he took the long and wearisome journey to
Montreal, to consult an oculist. The story is that Sir George Simpson, the
Governor, meeting him near that city, demanded of him why he was not at
his post. On the young man's answering that his eyes were very bad and he
had come to see a doctor, the Governor broke in impatiently with the
question, 'Who gave you permission to leave your post?" Mr. Smith was
forced to admit that no one had given him leave (it would have taken a
year to get it), and immediately the angry official said curtly, ''If it
is a question between your eyes and your service in the Hudson Bay
Company, you'll take my advice and return this instant to your post." And
according to the story, the young fellow actually went bark immediately
and retraced his journey of nearly one thousand miles. The story may not
be true, but it may have some basis in fact. He spent practically thirty
years in that wilderness. Take thirty years out of the average life, and
there would not be much left. lie was forty-eight when he came out of his
obscurity—at an age when most men are withdrawing from active service. But
he was really at the beginning of his public career. All the years he had
lived were spent in making a pedestal on which he was to stand, as a
striking figure of the time.
In ten years he had advanced to be chief trader on
the shores of Hudson's Bay. In another ten years he was appointed chief
factor of the great fur company. In 1868 he reached the highest position,
and became Governor of the Company, its chief executive officer in North
America—stationed at Montreal. It had been a long and painful experience.
It had wrought in him marvellous changes—the timid lad, fresh from his
home and protecting friends, had been transformed into the stalwart man,
with rugged frame, keen, alert brain, a knowledge of the country and its
inhabitants, which made him an authority, a master of the great Company's
secrets and policy—and possessed of a wonderful executive ability. The
year of his appointment as Governor saw the close of one part of his
career, but the curtain was to rise almost immediately on another
part—crowded with events of the first magnitude, in which he was to have
official recognition, and in which he moved in the highest circles of
Imperial, social and political life. |
