the Seashells well. Their Chief, he said, had
had some dealings with the Hudson’s Bay
Company and was “partial to whites.” So
one blustery day in March, 1860, Manson
and Foster were sworn in as Special Con-
stables and left New Westminster by canoe.

A week later however they were back

and Chief Inspector Brew recorded in his
diary:
' “Both men returned unsuccessful on the night
of the 15th, having been absent seven days.
Manson said they unfortunately left New West-
minster in a small canoe in which they dare not
at this time of the year venture into the Gulf.
Couldn't get a big enough canoe from the
Squamish tribe to encounter the heavy seas.”

So much for their plan.

There was however on the regular force
at this time a stockily-built ex-sailor of
Scandinavian origin named Julius Voigt.
Const. Voigt was considered by his com-
rades as steady and reliable but not very
bright. He had been following these events
with much interest and had developed the
burning ambition to vindicate himself and
the police force. He had looked with dis-
favour on the idea of the two volunteer
man hunters. Why shouldn’t he be given
the same opportunity? At length he ap-
proached the Chief Inspector and voiced
his thoughts.

“But Voigt,” laughed the bluff and
bearded Irish police Inspector, “you don’t
know where the Seashells have their camp.
You've got to know the coast, and the
Indians.”

“All the same, Mr. Inspector,” replied
Voigt quietly, in his thick Scandinavian

accent, “I like to try. These odder two men,
they talk a lot, then quit.”

Brew scanned Voigt’s moody eyes. Then
“Alright, Voigt,” he said suddenly, “you
win. Get your blankets, hire a canoe and
start today.”

The Inspector still had his own private
opinion of Voigt’s ability as a police officer,
for that day he wrote—for posterity to see:

“Const. Julius Voigt is gone off by himself to
try and arrest Taitach but I don’t rely much on
his chance of success. Though willing enough he
is not sufficiently persevering and determined
under difficulties.”

To gauge the difficulties that Voigt might
encounter, its worthwhile digressing to
illustrate the mentality of the tribesmen
Voigt had to deal with. Along the shore
line of the Gulf of Georgia between Van-
couver Island and the mainland of B.C.
lived these nomadic savages. Of low men-
tality, fearful of one another, they had little
contact with whites. An idea of thcir-atti-
tude towards murder can be gleaned from
a note Chief Inspector Brew received at
New Westminster on the afternoon of Octo-
ber 8th, 1860. The note was delivered by
two muscular, blanketed braves of the
Sechelt tribe, who waited with quiet dignity
as Brew ripped open the envelope and read
the following message from Colonel Moody:

“My Dear Brew’—it ran, “these Indians have
just waited on me to say they are of the Seychelle
tribe and that another Indian in their neighbour-
hood has just killed the father of one of them
and that he is going to kill the Indian himself

but before doing so he thought it best to come
and let me know. He has come to say this, all

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in the most gentlemanly quiet way not at all
excited evidently considering it the orthodox way
of doing business and he wishes to be polite
and courteous in the matter towards the powers
that be. I have sent them to you saying you
are the official to settle the business, that it is
not the correct thing for him to kill the Indian
but we will do so if it is proved alright and that
we will make the capture, he helping us, and
keeping it all snug and quiet, not saying any-
thing to anybody. If you wish it I will lend
you our lifeboat (to send the policeman for the
capture). She sails well but I strongly recom
mend good canoes instead—the man would bolt
the moment he saw a boat belonging to white
men. The quiet air of these good fellows has
amused me extremely, I confess, notwithstanding
it is an affair of life and death... Yours, etc.,
R. G. Moody.”

Such were the “Seashells”—calm and dig-
nified, ready to report a killing before it
happened!

But to return to Const. Julius Voigt. He
was absent from New Westminster for
three days and on the fourth day (April
1st, by the way) he returned to the office
haggard and unshaven, his clothes stained
with salt spray. There must have been just
a trace of a triumphant gleam in his tired
eyes as he quietly reported to Inspector
Brew that Taitach the outlaw lay outside
on the verandah—dead!

And here’s the crime report that Voigt
filed at New Westminster on April 2nd,
1860:

“In accordance to a bench warrant issued for
the apprehension of the mosquim Indian Taetan*
alias John Chinaman, indicted for the murder.

*Voigt used some little latitude in spelling the
accused’s name.

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Page Ninety-two

W. E. REYNOLDS

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