Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
FORT DESOLATION, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE.
CHAPTER ONE.
OR, SOLITUDE IN THE WILDERNESS.
THE OUTSKIRTER.
To some minds solitude is depressing, to others it is congenial. It was
the _former_ to our friend John Robinson; yet he had a large share of it
in his chequered life. John--more familiarly known as Jack--was as
romantic as his name was the reverse. To look at him you would have
supposed that he was the most ordinary of common-place men, but if you
had known him, as we did, you would have discovered that there was a
deep, silent, but ever-flowing river of enthusiasm, energy, fervour--in
a word, romance--in his soul, which seldom or never manifested itself in
words, and only now and then, on rare occasions, flashed out in a
lightning glance, or blazed up in a fiery countenance. For the most
part Jack was calm as a mill-pond, deep as the Atlantic, straightforward
and grave as an undertaker's clerk and good-humoured as an unspoilt and
healthy child.
Jack never made a joke, but, certes, he could enjoy one; and he had a
way of showing his enjoyment by a twinkle in his blue eye and a chuckle
in his throat that was peculiarly impressive.
Jack was a type of a large class. He was what we may call an
_outskirter_ of the world. He was one of those who, from the force of
necessity, or of self-will, or of circumstances, are driven to the outer
circle of this world to do as Adam and Eve's family did, battle with
Nature in her wildest scenes and moods; to earn his bread, literally, in
the sweat of his brow.
Jack was a middle-sized man of strong make. He was not sufficiently
large to overawe men by his size, neither was he so small as to invite
impertinence from "big bullies," of whom there were plenty in his
neighbourhood. In short, being an unpretending man and a plain man,
with a good nose and large chin and sandy hair, he was not usually taken
much notice of by strangers during his journeyings in the world; but
when vigorous action in cases of emergency was required Jack Robinson
was the man to make himself conspicuous.
It is not our intention to give an account of Jack's adventurous life
from beginning to end, but to detail the incidents of a sojourn of two
months at Fort Desolation, in almost utter solitude, in order to show
one of the many phases of rough life to which outskirters are frequently
subjected.
In regard to his early life it may be sufficient to say that Jack, after
being born, created such perpetual disturbance and storm in the house
that his worthy father came to look upon him as a perfect pest, and as
soon as possible sent him to a public school, where he fought like a
Mameluke Bey, learned his lessons with the zeal of a philosopher, and,
at the end of ten years ran away to sea, where he became as sick as a
dog and as miserable as a convicted felon.
Poor Jack was honest of heart and generous of spirit, but many a long
hard year did he spend in the rugged parts of the earth ere he
recovered, (if he ever did recover), from the evil effects of this first
false step.
In course of time Jack was landed in Canada, with only a few shillings
in his pocket; from that period he became an outskirter. The romance in
his nature pointed to the backwoods; he went thither at once, and was
not disappointed. At first the wild life surpassed his expectations,
but as time wore on the tinsel began to wear off the face of things, and
he came to see them as they actually were. Nevertheless, the romance of
life did not wear out of his constitution. Enthusiasm, quiet but deep,
stuck to him all through his career, and carried him on and over
difficulties that would have disgusted and turned back many a colder
spirit.
Jack's first success was the obtaining of a situation as clerk in the
store of a general merchant in an outskirt settlement of Canada. Dire
necessity drove him to this. He had been three weeks without money and
nearly two days without food before he succumbed. Having given in,
however, he worked like a Trojan, and would certainly have advanced
himself in life if his employer had not failed and left him, minus a
portion of his salary, to "try again."
Next, he became an engineer on board one of the Missouri steamers, in
which capacity he burst his boiler, and threw himself and the passengers
into the river--the captain having adopted the truly Yankee expedient of
sitting down on the safety-valve while racing with another boat!
Afterwards, Jack Robinson became clerk in one of the Ontario
steam-boats, but, growing tired of this life, he went up the Ottawa, and
became overseer of a sawmill. Here, being on the frontier of
civilisation, he saw the roughest of Canadian life. The lumbermen of
that district are a mixed race--French-Canadians, Irishmen, Indians,
half-castes, etcetera,--and whatever good qualities these men might
possess in the way of hewing timber and bush-life, they were sadly
deficient in the matters of morality and temperance. But Jack was a man
of tact and good temper, and played his cards well. He jested with the
jocular, sympathised with the homesick, doctored the ailing in a rough
and ready fashion peculiarly his own, and avoided the quarrelsome. Thus
he became a general favourite.
Of course it was not to be expected that he could escape an occasional
broil, and it was herein that his early education did him good service.
He had been trained in an English school where he became one of the best
boxers. The lumberers on the Ottawa were not practised in this science;
they indulged in that kicking, tearing, pommelling sort of mode which is
so repugnant to the feelings of an Englishman. The consequence was that
Jack had few fights, but these were invariably with the largest bullies
of the district; and he, in each case, inflicted such tremendous facial
punishment on his opponent that he became a noted man, against whom few
cared to pit themselves.
There are none so likely to enjoy peace as those who are prepared for
war. Jack used sometimes to say, with a smile, that his few battles
were the price he had to pay for peace.
Our hero was unlucky. The saw-mill failed--its master being a drunkard.
When that went down he entered the lumber trade, where he made the
acquaintance of a young Scotchman, of congenial mind and temperament,
who suggested the setting up of a store in a promising locality and
proposed entering into partnership. "Murray and Robinson" was forthwith
painted by the latter, (who was a bit of an artist), over the door of a
small log-house, and the store soon became well known and much
frequented by the sparse population as well as by those engaged in the
timber trade.
But "the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong." There
must have been a screw loose somewhere, for bad debts accumulated and
losses were incurred which finally brought the firm to the ground, and
left its dissevered partners to begin the world over again!
After this poor Jack Robinson fell into low spirits for a time, but he
soon recovered, and bought a small piece of land at a nominal price in a
region so wild that he had to cut his own road to it, fell the trees
with his own hand, and, in short, reclaim it from the wilderness on the
margin of which it lay. This was hard work, but Jack liked hard work,
and whatever work he undertook he always did it well. Strange that such
a man could not get on! yet so it was, that, in a couple of years, he
found himself little better off than he had been when he entered on his
new property. The region, too, was not a tempting one. No adventurous
spirits had located themselves beside him, and only a few had come
within several miles of his habitation.
This did not suit our hero's sociable temperament, and he began to
despond very much. Still his sanguine spirit led him to persevere, and
there is no saying how long he might have continued to spend his days
and his energies in felling trees and sowing among the stumps and hoping
for better days, had not his views been changed and his thoughts turned
into another channel by a letter.
CHAPTER TWO.
THE LETTER, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
One fine spring morning Jack was sitting, smoking his pipe after
breakfast, at the door of his log cabin, looking pensively out upon the
tree-stump-encumbered field which constituted his farm. He had
facetiously named his residence the Mountain House, in consequence of
there being neither mountain nor hill larger than an inverted wash-hand
basin, within ten miles of him! He was wont to defend the misnomer on
the ground that it served to keep him in remembrance of the fact that
hills really existed in other parts of the world.
Jack was in a desponding mood. His pipe would not "draw" that morning;
and his mind had been more active than usual for a few days past,
revolving the past, the present, and the future. In short, Jack was
cross. There could be no doubt whatever about it; for he suddenly, and
without warning, dashed his pipe to pieces against a log, went into the
house for another, which he calmly filled, as he resumed his former
seat, lit, and continued to smoke for some time in sulky silence. We
record this fact because it was quite contrary to Jack's amiable and
patient character, and showed that some deep emotions were stirring
within him.
The second pipe "drew" well. Probably it was this that induced him to
give utterance to the expression--
"I wonder how long this sort of thing will last?"
"Just as long as you've a mind to let it, and no longer," answered a man
clad in the garb of a trapper, whose mocassin foot had given no
indication of his approach until he was within a couple of paces of the
door.
"Is that you, Joe?" said Jack, looking up, and pointing to a log which
served as a seat on the other side of the doorway.
"It's all that's of me," replied Joe.
"Sit down and fill your pipe out of my pouch, Joe. It's good 'baccy,
you'll find. Any news? I suppose not. There never is; and if there
was, what would be the odds to me?"
"In the blues?" remarked the hunter, regarding Jack with a peculiar
smile through his first puff of smoke.
"Rather!" said Jack.
"Grog?" inquired Joe.
"Haven't tasted a drop for months," replied Jack.
"All square _here_?" inquired the hunter, tapping his stomach.
"Could digest gun-flints and screw nails!"
The two smoked in silence for some time; then Joe drew forth a soiled
letter, which he handed to his companion, saying--
"It's bin lying at the post-office for some weeks, and as the postmaster
know'd I was comin' here he asked me to take it. I've a notion it may
be an offer to buy your clearin', for I've heerd two or three fellows
speakin' about it. Now, as I want to buy it myself, if yer disposed to
sell it, I hereby make you the first offer."
Jack Robinson continued to smoke in silence, gazing abstractedly at the
letter. Since his mother had died, a year before the date of which we
write, he had not received a line from any one, insomuch that he had
given up calling at the post-office on his occasional visits to the
nearest settlement. This letter, therefore, took him by surprise, all
the more that it was addressed in the handwriting of his former partner,
Murray.
Breaking the seal, he read as follows:
"Fort Kamenistaquoia, April the somethingth:--
"Dear Jack,--You'll be surprised to see my fist, but not more
surprised than I was to hear from an old hunter just arrived, that you
had taken to farming. It's not your forte, Jack, my boy. Be advised.
Sell off the farm for what it will fetch, and come and join me. My
antecedents are not in my favour, I grant; but facts are stubborn
things, and it is a fact that I am making dollars here like stones.
I'm a fur-trader, my boy. Have joined a small company, and up to this
time have made a good thing of it. You know something of the fur
trade, if I mistake not. Do come and join us; we want such a man as
you at a new post we have established on the coast of Labrador.
Shooting, fishing, hunting, _ad libitum_. Eating, drinking, sleeping,
_ad infinitum_. What would you more? Come, like a good fellow, and
be happy!
"Ever thine, J. MURRAY."
"I'll sell the _farm_," said Jack Robinson, folding the letter.
"You will?" exclaimed Joe. "What's your price?"
"Come over it with me, and look at the fixings, before I tell you," said
Jack.
They went over it together, and looked at every fence and stump and
implement. They visited the live stock, and estimated the value of the
sprouting crop. Then they returned to the house, where they struck a
bargain off-hand.
That evening Jack bade adieu to the Mountain House, mounted his horse,
with his worldly goods at the pommel of the saddle, and rode away,
leaving Joe, the trapper, in possession.
In process of time our hero rode through the settlements to Montreal,
where he sold his horse, purchased a few necessaries, and made his way
down the Saint Lawrence to the frontier settlements of the bleak and
almost uninhabited north shore of the gulf. Here he found some
difficulty in engaging a man to go with him, in a canoe, towards the
coast of Labrador.
An Irishman, in a fit of despondency, at length agreed; but on reaching
a saw-mill that had been established by a couple of adventurous Yankees,
in a region that seemed to be the out-skirts of creation, Paddy
repented, and vowed he'd go no farther for love or money.
Jack Robinson earnestly advised the faithless man to go home, and help
his grandmother, thenceforth, to plant murphies; after which he embarked
in his canoe alone, and paddled away into the dreary north.
Camping out in the woods at night, paddling all day, and living on
biscuit and salt pork, with an occasional duck or gull, by way of
variety; never seeing a human face from morn till night, nor hearing the
sound of any voice except his own, Jack pursued his voyage for fourteen
days. At the end of that time he descried Fort Kamenistaquoia. It
consisted of four small log-houses, perched on a conspicuous promontory,
with a flag-staff in the midst of them.
Here he was welcomed warmly by his friend John Murray and his
colleagues, and was entertained for three days sumptuously on fresh
salmon, salt pork, pancakes, and tea. Intellectually, he was regaled
with glowing accounts of the fur trade and the salmon fisheries of that
region.
"Now, Jack," said Murray, on the third day after his arrival, while they
walked in front of the fort, smoking a morning pipe, "it is time that
you were off to the new fort. One of our best men has built it, but he
is not a suitable person to take charge, and as the salmon season has
pretty well advanced we are anxious to have you there to look after the
salting and sending of them to Quebec."
"What do you call the new fort?" inquired Jack.
"Well, it has not yet got a name. We've been so much in the habit of
styling it the New Fort that the necessity of another name has not
occurred to us. Perhaps, as you are to be its first master, we may
leave the naming of it to you."
"Very good," said Jack; "I am ready at a moment's notice. Shall I set
off this forenoon?"
"Not quite so sharp as that," replied Murray, laughing. "To-morrow
morning, at day-break, will do. There is a small sloop lying in a creek
about twenty miles below this. We beached her there last autumn.
You'll go down in a boat with three men, and haul her into deep water.
There will be spring tides in two days, so, with the help of tackle,
you'll easily manage it. Thence you will sail to the new fort, forty
miles farther along the coast, and take charge."
"The three men you mean to give me know their work, I presume?" said
Jack.
"Of course they do. None of them have been at the fort, however."
"Oh! How then shall we find it?" inquired Jack.
"By observation," replied the other. "Keep a sharp look out as you
coast along, and you can't miss it."
The idea of mists and darkness and storms occurred to Jack Robinson, but
he only answered, "Very good."
"Can any of the three men navigate the sloop?" he inquired.
"Not that I'm aware of," said Murray; "but you know something of
navigation, yourself, don't you?"
"No! nothing!"
"Pooh! nonsense. Have you never sailed a boat?"
"Yes, occasionally."
"Well, it's the same thing. If a squall comes, keep a steady hand on
the helm and a sharp eye to wind'ard, and you're safe as the Bank. If
it's too strong for you, loose the halyards, let the sheets fly, and
down with the helm; the easiest thing in the world if you only look
alive and don't get flurried."
"Very good," said Jack, and as he said so his pipe went out; so he
knocked out the ashes and refilled it.
Next morning our hero rowed away with his three men, and soon discovered
the creek of which his friend had spoken. Here he found the sloop, a
clumsy "tub" of about twenty tons burden, and here Jack's troubles
began.
The _Fairy_, as the sloop was named, happened to have been beached
during a very high tide. It now lay high and dry in what once had been
mud, on the shore of a land-locked bay or pond, under the shadow of some
towering pines. The spot looked like an inland lakelet, on the margin
of which one might have expected to find a bear or a moose-deer, but
certainly not a sloop.
"Oh! ye shall nevair git him off," said Francois Xavier, one of the
three men--a French-Canadian--on beholding the stranded vessel.
"We'll try," said Pierre, another of the three men, and a burly
half-breed.
"Try!" exclaimed Rollo, the third of the three men--a tall, powerful,
ill-favoured man, who was somewhat of a bully, who could not tell where
he had been born, and did not know who his father and mother had been,
having been forsaken by them in his infancy. "Try? you might as well
try to lift a mountain! I've a mind to go straight back to
Kamenistaquoia and tell Mr Murray that to his face!"
"Have you?" said Jack Robinson, in a quiet, peculiar tone, accompanied
by a gaze that had the effect of causing Rollo to look a little
confused. "Come along, lads, we'll begin at once," he continued, "it
will be full tide in an hour or so. Get the tackle ready, Francois; the
rest of you set to work, and clear away the stones and rubbish from
under her sides."
Jack threw off his coat, and began to work like a hero--as he was. The
others followed his example; and the result was that when the tide rose
to its full height the sloop was freed of all the rubbish that had
collected round the hull; the block tackle was affixed to the mast; the
rope attached to a tree on the opposite side of the creek; and the party
were ready to haul. But although they hauled until their sinews
cracked, and the large veins of their necks and foreheads swelled almost
to bursting, the sloop did not move an inch. The tide began to fall,
and in a few minutes that opportunity was gone. There were not many
such tides to count on, so Jack applied all his energies and ingenuity
to the work. By the time the next tide rose they had felled two large
pines, and applied them to the side of the vessel. Two of the party
swung at the ends of these; the other two hauled on the block-tackle.
This time the sloop moved a little at the full flood; but the moment of
hope soon passed, and the end was not yet attained.
The next tide was the last high one. They worked like desperate men
during the interval. The wedge was the mechanical power which prevailed
at last. Several wedges were inserted under the vessel's side, and
driven home. Thus the sloop was canted over a little towards the water.
When the tide was at the full, one man hauled at the tackle, two men
swung at the ends of the levers, and Jack hammered home the wedges at
each heave and pull; thus securing every inch of movement. The result
was that the sloop slid slowly down the bank into deep water.
It is wonderful how small a matter will arouse human enthusiasm! The
cheer that was given on the successful floating of the _Fairy_ was
certainly as full of fervour, if not of volume, as that which followed
the launching of the _Great Eastern_.
Setting sail down the gulf they ran before a fair breeze which speedily
increased to a favouring gale. Before night a small bay was descried,
with three log-huts on the shore. This was the new fort. They ran into
the bay, grazing a smooth rock in their passage, which caused the
_Fairy_ to tremble from stem to stern, and cast anchor close to a wooden
jetty. On the end of this a solitary individual, (apparently a maniac),
was seen capering and yelling wildly.
"What fort is this?" shouted Jack.
"Sorrow wan o' me knows," cried the maniac; "it's niver been christened
yet. Faix, if it's a fort at all, I'd call it Fort Disolation. Och!
but it's lonesome I've been these three days--niver a wan here but
meself an' the ghosts. Come ashore, darlints, and comfort me!"
"Fort Desolation, indeed!" muttered Jack Robinson, as he looked round
him sadly; "not a bad name. I'll adopt it. Lower the boat, lads."
Thus Jack took possession of his new home.
CHAPTER THREE.
DOMESTIC AND PERSONAL MATTERS.
Jack Robinson's first proceeding on entering the new fort and assuming
the command, was to summon the man, (supposed to be a maniac), named
Teddy O'Donel, to his presence in the "Hall."
"Your name is Teddy O'Donel?" said Jack.
"The same, sir, at your sarvice," said Teddy, with a respectful pull at
his forelock. "They was used to call me _Mister_ O'Donel when I was in
the army, but I've guv that up long ago an' dropped the title wid the
commission."
"Indeed: then you were a commissioned officer?" inquired Jack, with a
smile.
"Be no manes. It was a slight longer title than that I had. They
called me a non-commissioned officer. I niver could find in me heart to
consociate wid them consaited commissioners--though there was wan or two
of 'em as was desarvin' o' the three stripes. But I niver took kindly
to sodgerin'. It was in the Howth militia I was. Good enough boys they
was in their way, but I couldn't pull wid them no how. They made me a
corp'ral for good conduct, but, faix, the great review finished me; for
I got into that state of warlike feeling that I loaded me muskit five
times widout firin', an' there was such a row round about that I didn't
know the dirty thing had niver wint off till the fifth time, when she
bursted into smithereens an' wint off intirely. No wan iver seed a
scrag of her after that. An' the worst was, she carried away the small
finger of Bob Riley's left hand. Bob threw down his muskit an' ran off
the ground howlin', so I picked the wipon up an' blazed away at the
inimy; but, bad luck to him, Bob had left his ramrod in, and I sint it
right through the flank of an owld donkey as was pullin' an apple and
orange cart. Oh! how that baste did kick up its heels, to be sure! and
the apples and oranges they was flyin' like--Well, well--the long and
the short was, that I wint an' towld the colonel I couldn't stop no
longer in such a regiment. So I guv it up an' comed out here."
"And became a fur-trader," said Jack Robinson, with a smile.
"Just so, sur, an' fort-builder to boot; for, being a jiner to trade and
handy wid the tools, Mr Murray sent me down here to build the place and
take command, but I s'pose I'm suppersheeded now!"
"Well, I believe you are, Teddy; but I hope that you will yet do good
service as my lieutenant."
The beaming smile on Teddy's face showed that he was well pleased to be
relieved from the responsibilities of office.
"Sure," said he, "the throuble I have had wid the min an' the salvages
for the last six weeks--it's past belavin'! An' thin, whin I sint the
men down to the river to fush--more nor twinty miles off--an' whin the
salvages wint away and left me alone wid only wan old salvage woman!--
och! I'd not wish my worst inimy in me sitivation."
"Then the savages have been giving you trouble, have they?"
"They have, sur, but not so much as the min."
"Well, Teddy," said Jack, "go and fetch me something to eat, and then
you shall sit down and give me an account of things in general. But
first give my men food."
"Sure they've got it," replied Teddy, with a broad grin. "That spalpeen
they calls Rollo axed for meat the first thing, in a voice that made me
think he'd ait me up alive av he didn't git it. So I guv 'em the run o'
the pantry. What'll yer plaze to dhrink, sur?"
"What have you got?"
"Tay and coffee, sur, not to mintion wather. There's only flour an'
salt pork to ait, for this is a bad place for game. I've not seed a
bird or a bear for three weeks, an' the seals is too cute for me. But
I'll bring ye the best that we've got."
Teddy O'Donel hastened to the kitchen, a small log-hut in rear of the
dwelling-house, and left Jack Robinson alone in the "Hall."
Jack rose, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and walked to the
window. It was glazed with parchment, with the exception of the centre
square, which was of glass.
"Pleasant, uncommonly pleasant," he muttered, as he surveyed the
landscape.
In front lay a flat beach of sand with the gulf beyond, the horizon
being veiled in mist. Up the river there was a flat beach with a hill
beyond. It was a black iron-looking hill, devoid of all visible
verdure, and it plunged abruptly down into the sea as if it were trying
fiercely to drown itself. Down the river there was a continuation of
flat beach, with, apparently, nothing whatever beyond. The only objects
that enlivened the dreary expanse were, the sloop at the end of the
wooden jetty and a small flagstaff in front of the house, from which a
flag was flying in honour of the arrival of the new governor. At the
foot of this flagstaff there stood an old iron cannon, which looked
pugnacious and cross, as if it longed to burst itself and blow down all
visible creation.
Jack Robinson's countenance became a simple blank as he took the first
survey of his new dominions. Suddenly a gleam of hope flitted across
the blank.
"Perhaps the back is better," he muttered, opening the door that led to
the rear of the premises. In order to get out he had to pass through
the kitchen, where he found his men busy with fried pork and flour
cakes, and his lieutenant, Teddy, preparing coffee.
"What is that?" inquired Jack, pointing to a small heap of brown
substance which Teddy was roasting in a frying-pan.
"Sure it's coffee," said the man.
"Eh?" inquired Jack.
"Coffee, sur," repeated Teddy with emphasis.
"What is it made of?" inquired Jack.
"Bread-crumbs, sur. I'm used to make it of pais, but it takes longer,
d'ye see, for I've got to pound 'em in a cloth after they're roasted.
The crumbs is a'most as good as the pais, an' quicker made whin yer in a
hurry."
Jack's first impulse was to countermand the crumbs and order tea, but he
refrained, and went out to survey the back regions of his new home.
He found that the point selected for the establishment of the fort was a
plain of sand, on which little herbage of any kind grew. In rear of the
house there was a belt of stunted bushes, which, as he went onward into
the interior, became a wood of stunted firs. This seemed to grow a
little more dense farther inland, and finally terminated at the base of
the distant and rugged mountains of the interior. In fact, he found
that he was established on a sandbank which had either been thrown up by
the sea, or at no very remote period had formed part of its bed.
Returning home so as to enter by the front door, he observed an enclosed
space a few hundred yards distant from the fort. Curious to know what
it was, he walked up to it, and, looking over the stockade, beheld
numerous little mounds of sand with wooden crosses at the head of them.
It was the burial-ground of the establishment. Trade had been carried
on here by a few adventurous white men before the fort was built. Some
of their number having died, a space had been enclosed as a
burying-ground. The Roman Catholic Indians afterwards used it, and it
was eventually consecrated with much ceremony by a priest.
With a face from which every vestige of intelligence was removed, Jack
Robinson returned to the fort and sat down in solitary state in the
hall. In the act of sitting down he discovered that the only arm-chair
in the room was unsteady on its legs, these being of unequal length.
There were two other chairs without arms, and equally unsteady on their
legs. These, as well as everything in the room, were made of fir-wood--
as yet unpainted. In the empty fire-place Jack observed a piece of
charcoal, which he took up and began, in an absent way, to sketch on the
white wall. He portrayed a raving maniac as large as life, and then,
sitting down, began insensibly to hum--
"I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls."
In the midst of which he was interrupted by the entrance of his
lieutenant with a tray of viands.
"Ah, yer a purty creatur," exclaimed Teddy, pausing with a look of
admiration before the maniac.
"Come, Teddy, sit down and let's have the news. What have we here?"
said Jack, looking at three covered plates which were placed before him.
"Salt pork fried," said Teddy removing the cover.
"And here?"
"Salt pork biled," said the man, removing the second cover; "an' salt
pork cold," he added, removing the third. "You see, sur, I wasn't sure
which way ye'd like it, an' ye was out whin I come to ax; so I just did
it up in three fashions. Here's loaf bread, an' it's not bad, though I
say it that made it."
As Jack cut down into the loaf, he naturally remembered those lines of a
well-known writer:
"Who has not tasted home-made bread,
A heavy compound of putty and
lead!"
"Are these cakes?" he said, as Teddy presented another plate with
something hot in it.
"Ay, pancakes they is, made of flour an' wather fried in grease, an' the
best of aitin', as ye'll find;--but, musha! they've all stuck together
from some raison I han't yet diskivered: but they'll be none the worse
for that, and there's plenty of good thick molasses to wash 'em down
wid."
"And this," said Jack, pointing to a battered tin kettle, "is the--
the--"
"That's the coffee, sur."
"Ah! well, sit down, Teddy, I have seen worse fare than this. Let's be
thankful for it. Now, then, let me hear about the fishery."
Nothing pleased Teddy O'Donel so much as being allowed to talk. He sat
down accordingly and entertained his master for the next hour with a
full, true, and particular account of every thing connected with Fort
Desolation. We will not, however, inflict this on the reader. Reduced
to its narrowest limits, his information was to the following effect:--
That the Indians, generally, were well disposed towards the traders,
though difficult to please. That a good many furs had been already
obtained, and there was a report of more coming in. That the salmon
fishery was situated on a river twenty miles below the fort, and was
progressing favourably; but that the five men engaged there were a
quarrelsome set and difficult to keep in order. Teddy thought, however,
that it was all owing to one of the men, named Ladoc, a bully, who kept
the other four in bad humour.
But the point on which poor Teddy dilated most was his solitude. For
some time he had been living with no other companions than an old Indian
woman and her half-caste daughter, and they having left him, during the
last three days he had been living entirely alone "among the ghosts,"
many of which he described minutely.
This intelligence was brought to an abrupt close by a row among the men
in the kitchen. Rollo had been boasting of his walking powers to such
an extent, that Pierre had become disgusted and spoke contemptuously of
Rollo; whereupon the bully, as usual, began to storm, and his wrath
culminated when Pierre asserted that, "Mr Robinson would bring him to
his marrow-bones ere long."
"Jack Robinson!" exclaimed Rollo with contempt; "I'd walk him blind in
two hours."
Just at that moment the door opened, and Jack stood before them.
"You are too noisy, men," said he, in a quiet voice, (Jack almost always
spoke in a soft voice); "remember that this kitchen is within hearing of
the hall. Rollo, go down to the beach and haul up the sloop's boat, I
see the tide is making on her."
Rollo hesitated.
"You hear?" said Jack, still in a quiet tone, but with a look--not a
fierce look, or a threatening look, but--a peculiar look, which
instantly took effect.
One has often observed a cat when about to spring. It makes many pauses
in its prowling towards its prey, and occasional motions that lead one
to expect a spring. But the motion which precedes the actual spring is
always emphatic. It may not be violent; it may be as slight as all the
previous motions, but there is that in it which tells irresistibly,
somehow, of a fixed purpose. So is it, doubtless, with tigers; so was
it with Jack Robinson. His first remark to the men was a prowl; his
order to Rollo was a pause, with an _intention_; his "you hear?" softly
said, had a _something_ in it which induced Rollo to accord instant
obedience!
On returning to the hall, Jack paced up and down indignantly. "So there
are _two_ bullies in the camp," he soliloquised; "I must cure them
both;--but softly, Jack. It won't do to fight if you can secure peace
by other means. Let blows be the last resource. That's my motto.
He'll walk me blind! Well, we shall see, _to-morrow_!"
CHAPTER FOUR.
TAMING A BULLY.
The morrow came, and Jack Robinson rose with the sun. Long before his
men were astir he had inspected the few books and papers of the
establishment, had examined the condition of the fur and goods store,
and had otherwise made himself acquainted with the details of the fort;
having gone over its general features with Teddy the day before.
When the "lieutenant" arose, he found indications of his new master
having been everywhere before him, and noted the fact! As Teddy was by
no means a man of order--although a good and trustworthy man--there was
enough to be done before breakfast. Jack purposely put Rollo into the
kitchen to prepare the morning meal, this being comparatively light
work. He himself worked with the other men in the stores. There was
necessarily a great deal of lifting and shifting and clearing, in all of
which operations he took the heaviest part of the work, and did his work
better and more thoroughly than any of the others. Teddy observed this
also, and noted the fact!
At breakfast there was naturally a good deal of talk among the men, and
special mention was of course made of the energy of their master.
Breakfast over, Jack assembled the men and apportioned to each his day's
work.
"I myself," said he, "mean to walk down to the fishery to-day, and I
leave O'Donel in charge; I shall be back to-morrow. Rollo, you will
prepare to accompany me."
"Yes, sir," answered the man, not knowing very well how to take this.
The others glanced at each other intelligently as they departed to their
work.
A few minutes sufficed for preparation, and soon Jack stood with his
rifle on his shoulder in front of the house. Rollo quickly made his
appearance with an old trading gun.
"You can leave that, we won't require it," said Jack; "besides I want to
walk fast, so it is well that you should be as light as possible."
"No fear but I'll keep up with you, sir," said the man, somewhat piqued.
"I do not doubt it," replied Jack, "but one gun is enough for us, so put
yours by, and come along."
Rollo obeyed, and resolved in his heart that he would give his new
master a taste of his powers.
Jack started off at a good rattling pace, somewhat over four miles an
hour. For the first mile Rollo allowed him to lead, keeping about a
foot behind. Then he thought to himself, "Now, my friend, I'll try
you," and ranged up beside him, keeping a few yards to one side,
however, in order to avoid the appearance of racing. After a few
minutes he pushed the pace considerably, and even went ahead of his
companion; but, ere long, Jack was alongside and the pace increased to
nearly five miles an hour.
Only those who have tried it know, or can fully appreciate, what is
meant by adding a mile an hour to one's pace. Most active men go at
four miles an hour when walking at a good smart pace. Men _never_ walk
at five miles an hour except when in the utmost haste, and then only for
a short distance. Anything beyond that requires a run in order to be
sustained.
It was curious to watch the progress of these two men. The aim of each
was to walk at his greatest possible speed, without allowing the
slightest evidence of unwonted exertion to appear on his countenance or
in his manner.
They walked on the sands of the shore--there being no roads there--and
at first the walking was good, as the tide was out and the sand hard.
But before they had got half way to the fishery the sea came in and
drove them to the soft sand, which, as nearly every one knows, is
terribly fatiguing and difficult to walk in.
Up to this point the two men had kept abreast, going at a tremendous
pace, yet conversing quietly and keeping down every appearance of
distress; affecting, in fact, to be going at their usual and natural
pace! Many a sidelong glance did Rollo cast, however, at his companion,
to see if he were likely to give in soon. But Jack was as cool as a
cucumber, and wore a remarkably amiable expression of countenance. He
even hummed snatches of one or two songs, as though he were only
sauntering on the beach. At last he took out his pipe, filled it, and
began to smoke, without slackening speed. This filled Rollo with
surprise, and for the first time he began to entertain doubts as to the
result of the struggle.
As for Jack, he never doubted it for a moment. When they were compelled
to take to the heavy sand and sank above the ankles at every step, he
changed his tactics. Putting out his pipe, he fell behind a few paces.
"Ha!" thought Rollo, "done up at last; now I'll give it you."
The thought that he was sure of victory infused such spirit into the man
that he braced himself to renewed exertion. This was just what Jack
wanted. He kept exactly a foot behind Rollo, yet when the other
ventured to slacken his pace, (which was now too great to be kept up),
he pushed forward just enough to keep him at it, without disheartening
him as to result. In the midst of this they both came to a full stop on
discovering a box made of birch bark, which seemed to have been dropped
by some passing Indians.
"Hallo! what have we here?" cried Jack, stooping down to examine it.
"My blessin' on't whatever it is," thought Rollo, to whom the momentary
relief from walking was of the greatest consequence. Jack knew this,
and hastened his inspection. It was a box of bear's fat.
"Come, not a bad thing in times like these," observed Jack; "will you
carry this or the rifle, my man? See, the rifle is lighter, take that."
Again they stepped out, and the sand seemed to grow softer and deeper as
they advanced. They were now five miles from the end of their journey,
so Jack began to exert himself. He pushed on at a pace that caused
Rollo to pant and blow audibly. For some time Jack pretended not to
notice this, but at last he turned round and said--
"You seem to be fatigued, my man, let me carry the rifle."
Rollo did not object, and Jack went forward with the box and rifle more
rapidly than before. He was perspiring, indeed, at every pore
profusely, but wind and limb were as sound as when he started.
He finally left Rollo out of sight, and arrived at the fishery without
him!
Half an hour afterwards Rollo arrived. He was a stout fellow, and by
taking a short rest, had recovered sufficiently to come in with some
degree of spirit; nevertheless, it was evident to all that he was "used
up," for, "it is not the distance but the pace that kills!" He found
the fishermen at dinner, buttering their cakes with the bear's grease
that had been discovered on the way down. Jack Robinson was sitting in
the midst of them, chatting quietly and smoking his pipe beside the
fire-place of the hut.
Jack introduced him as one of the new men, but made no reference to the
walk from Fort Desolation. He felt, however, that he had conquered the
man, at least for that time, and hoped that further and more violent
methods would not be necessary. In this he was disappointed, as the
sequel will show.
That night Jack slept on a bed made of old salmon-nets, with a new
salmon-net above him for a blanket. It was a peculiar and not a
particularly comfortable bed; but in his circumstances he could have
slept on a bed of thorns. He gazed up at the stars through the hole in
the roof that served for a chimney, and listened to the chirping of the
frogs in a neighbouring swamp, to which the snoring of the men around
him formed a rough-and-ready bass. Thus he lay gazing and listening,
till stars and strains alike melted away, and left him in the sweet
regions of oblivion.
CHAPTER FIVE.
THE SALMON FISHERY.
Next morning, Jack Robinson went out at daybreak to inspect the salmon
fishery.
The river, up which the fish went in thousands, was broad, deep, and
rapid. Its banks were clothed with spruce-fir and dense underwood.
There was little of the picturesque or the beautiful in the scenery. It
was a bleak spot and unattractive.
Two of the four men who conducted the fishery were stationed at the
mouth of the river. The other two attended to the nets about six miles
farther up, at a place where there was a considerable fall terminating
in a long, turbulent rapid.
With his wonted promptitude and energy, Jack began to make himself
master of his position long before the men were stirring. Before Ladoc,
who was superintendent, had lighted his first pipe and strolled down to
the boat to commence the operations of the day, Jack had examined the
nets, the salt boxes, the curing-vats, the fish in pickle, the casks,
and all the other _materiel_ of the fishery, with a critical eye. From
what he saw, he was convinced that Ladoc was not the best manager that
could be desired, and, remembering that Ladoc was a bully, he was
strengthened in an opinion which he had long entertained, namely, that a
bully is never a trustworthy man.
He was in the act of forming this opinion, when Ladoc approached.
"Good morning, Ladoc," said he; "you rise early."
"Oui, sair; mais, you gits up more earlier."
"Yes, I am fond of morning air. The fishery prospers, I see."
"It doos, monsieur," said Ladoc, accepting the remark as a compliment to
himself; "ve have catch fifteen casks already, and they is in most
splendid condition."
"Hum!" ejaculated Jack, with a doubtful look at a cask which was
evidently leaking, "hum! yes, you are getting on pretty well, but--"
Here Jack "hummed" again, and looked pointedly at one of the large vats,
which was also leaking, and around which there was a great deal of salt
that had been scattered carelessly on the ground. Raising big eyes to
the roof of the low shed in which the salt-boxes stood, he touched with
his stick a torn piece of its tarpaulin covering, through which rain had
found its way in bad weather. He "hummed" again, but said nothing, for
he saw that Ladoc was a little disconcerted.
After some minutes Jack turned to his companion with a bland smile, and
said--
"The next station is--how many miles did you say?"
"Six, monsieur."
"Ah, six! well, let us go up and see it. You can show me the way."
"Breakfast be ready ver' soon," said Ladoc, "monsieur vill eat first,
p'r'aps?"
"No, we will breakfast at the upper station. Ho, Rollo! here, I want
you."
Rollo, who issued from the hut at the moment, with a view to examine the
weather and light his pipe, came forward.
"I am going with Ladoc to the upper station," said Jack; "you will take
his place here until we return."
"Very well, sir," replied Rollo, fixing his eyes upon Ladoc. At the
same moment Ladoc fixed his eyes on Rollo. The two men seemed to read
each other's character in a single glance, and then and there hurled
silent defiance in each other's teeth through their eyes! Ladoc was
annoyed at having been silently found fault with and superseded; Rollo
was aggrieved at being left behind; both men were therefore enraged--for
it is wonderful how small a matter is sufficient to enrage a bully--but
Jack ordered Ladoc to lead the way, so the rivals, or enemies, parted
company with another glance of defiance.
That day, Jack Robinson had a somewhat rough and remarkable experience
of life.
He began by overhauling the nets at the mouth of the river, and these
were so prolific that the small flat-bottomed boat used by the fishermen
was soon half filled with glittering salmon, varying from ten to fifteen
pounds in weight. In order to avoid having his mocassins and nether
garments soiled, Jack, who pulled the sculls, sat with bare feet and
tucked-up trousers. In less than an hour he rowed back to the
landing-place, literally up to the knees in salmon! Among these were a
few young seals that had got entangled in the nets, while in pursuit of
the fish, and been drowned. These last were filled with water to such
an extent, that they resembled inflated bladders!
"Breakfast is ready, sir," said one of the men, as the boat-party leaped
ashore.
"Very good," replied Jack; turning to Ladoc, "now, my man, are you ready
to start for the upper fishery?"
"Eh? ah--oui, monsieur."
There was a titter amongst the men at the expression of their big
comrade's face, for Ladoc was ravenously hungry, and felt inclined to
rebel at the idea of being obliged to start on a six-miles' walk without
food; but as his young master was about to do the same he felt that it
was beneath his dignity to complain. Besides, there was a _something_
peculiar about Jack's manner that puzzled and overawed the man.
The fact was, that Jack Robinson wanted to know what his bullies were
made of, and took rather eccentric methods of finding it out. He
accordingly set off at his best pace, and pushed Ladoc so hard, that he
arrived at the upper fishery in a state of profuse perspiration, with a
very red face, and with a disagreeably vacuous feeling about the pit of
his stomach.
They found the men at the station just landing with a boat-load of fish.
They were all clean-run, and shone in the bright sunshine like bars of
burnished silver.
"Now, Ladoc," said Jack, "get breakfast ready, while I look over matters
here."
It need not be said that the man obeyed most willingly. His master went
to examine into details. Half-an-hour sufficed to make him pretty well
acquainted with the state of matters at the station, and, during
breakfast, he soon obtained from the men all the knowledge they
possessed about the fishery, the natives, and the region.
One of the men was a half-caste, a fine-looking, grave, earnest fellow,
who spoke English pretty well. His name was Marteau.
"The seals and the bears are our worst enemies, sir," said Marteau, in
the course of conversation.
"Indeed! and which of the two are worst?" inquired Jack. "Another slice
of pork, Ladoc, your appetite appears to be sharp this morning; thank
you, go on, Marteau, you were saying something about the bears and
seals."
"It's not easy to say which of them is worst, sir. I think the bears
is, for the seals eat the bits that they bite out o' the fish, and so
get some good of it; but the bears, they goes to the vats and pulls out
the salt fish with their claws, for you see, sir, they can't resist the
smell, but when they tries to eat 'em--ah, you should see the faces they
do make! You see, they can't stand the salt, so they don't eat much,
but they hauls about and tears up an uncommon lot of fish."
"It must make him ver' t'irsty," observed Ladoc, swallowing a can of tea
at a draught.
"It makes one thirsty to think of it," said Jack, imitating Ladoc's
example; "now, lads, we'll go and overhaul the nets."
Just as he spoke, Ladoc sprang from his seat, seized Jack's gun, which
leant against the wall, shouted, "A bear!" and, levelling the piece
through the open doorway, took aim at the bushes in front of the hut.
At the same moment Jack leaped forward, struck up the muzzle of the gun
just as it exploded, and, seizing Ladoc by the collar, hurled him with
extraordinary violence, considering his size, against the wall.
"Make yourself a better hunter," said he, sternly, "before you presume
to lay hands again on my gun. Look there!"
Jack pointed, as he spoke, in the direction in which the man had fired,
where the object that had been mistaken for a bear appeared in the form
of a man, crawling out of the bushes on all-fours. He seemed to move
unsteadily, as if he were in pain.
Running to his assistance, they found that he was an Indian, and, from
the blood that bespattered his dress and hand, it was evident that he
had been wounded. He was a pitiable object, in the last stage of
exhaustion. When the party ran towards him, he looked up in their faces
with lustreless eyes, and then sank fainting on the ground.
"Poor fellow!" said Jack, as they carried him into the hut and placed
him on one of the low beds; "he must have met with an accident, for
there is no warfare in this region among the Indians to account for his
being wounded."