PLUNGES THE READER INTO THE MIDDLE OF AN ARCTIC WINTER; CONVEYS HIM INTO
THE HEART OF THE WILDERNESSES OF NORTH AMERICA; AND INTRODUCES HIM TO
SOME OF THE PRINCIPAL PERSONAGES OF OUR TALE.
Snowflakes and sunbeams, heat and cold, winter and summer, alternated
with their wonted regularity for fifteen years in the wild regions of
the Far North. During this space of time the hero of our tale sprouted
from babyhood to boyhood, passed through the usual amount of accidents,
ailments, and vicissitudes incidental to those periods of life, and
finally entered upon that ambiguous condition that precedes early
manhood.
It was a clear, cold winter's day. The sunbeams of summer were long
past, and snowflakes had fallen thickly on the banks of Red River.
Charley sat on a lump of blue ice, his head drooping and his eyes bent
on the snow at his feet with an expression of deep disconsolation.
Kate reclined at Charley's side, looking wistfully up in his expressive
face, as if to read the thoughts that were chasing each other through
his mind, like the ever-varying clouds that floated in the winter sky
above. It was quite evident to the most careless observer that,
whatever might be the usual temperaments of the boy and girl, their
present state of mind was not joyous, but, on the contrary, very sad.
"It won't do, sister Kate," said Charley. "I've tried him over and over
again--I've implored, begged, and entreated him to let me go; but he
won't, and I'm determined to run away, so there's an end of it!"
As Charley gave utterance to this unalterable resolution, he rose from
the bit of blue ice, and taking Kate by the hand, led her over the
frozen river, climbed up the bank on the opposite side--an operation of
some difficulty, owing to the snow, which had been drifted so deeply
during a late storm that the usual track was almost obliterated--and
turning into a path that lost itself among the willows, they speedily
disappeared.
As it is possible our reader may desire to know who Charley and Kate
are, and the part of the world in which they dwell, we will interrupt
the thread of our narrative to explain.
In the very centre of the great continent of North America, far removed
from the abodes of civilised men, and about twenty miles to the south of
Lake Winnipeg, exists a colony composed of Indians, Scotsmen, and
French-Canadians, which is known by the name of Red River Settlement.
Red River differs from most colonies in more respects than one--the
chief differences being, that whereas other colonies cluster on the
sea-coast, this one lies many hundreds of miles in the interior of the
country, and is surrounded by a wilderness; and while other colonies,
acting on the Golden Rule, export their produce in return for goods
imported, this of Red River imports a large quantity and exports
nothing, or next to nothing. Not but that it _might_ export, if it only
had an outlet or a market; but being eight hundred miles removed from
the sea, and five hundred miles from the nearest market, with a series
of rivers, lakes, rapids, and cataracts separating from the one, and a
wide sweep of treeless prairie dividing from the other, the settlers
have long since come to the conclusion that they were born to consume
their own produce, and so regulate the extent of their farming
operations by the strength of their appetites. Of course, there are
many of the necessaries, or at least the luxuries, of life which the
colonists cannot grow--such as tea, coffee, sugar, coats, trousers, and
shirts--and which, consequently, they procure from England, by means of
the Hudson's Bay Fur Company's ships, which sail once a year from
Gravesend, laden with supplies for the trade carried on with the
Indians. And the bales containing these articles are conveyed in boats
up the rivers, carried past the waterfalls and rapids overland on the
shoulders of stalwart voyageurs, and finally landed at Red River, after
a rough trip of many weeks' duration. The colony was founded in 1811,
by the Earl of Selkirk, previously to which it had been a trading-post
of the Fur Company. At the time of which we write, it contained about
five thousand souls, and extended upwards of fifty miles along the Red
and Assiniboine Rivers, which streams supplied the settlers with a
variety of excellent fish. The banks were clothed with fine trees; and
immediately behind the settlement lay the great prairies, which extend
in undulating waves--almost entirely devoid of shrub or tree--to the
base of the Rocky Mountains.
Although far removed from the civilised world, and containing within its
precincts much that is savage and very little that is refined, Red River
is quite a populous paradise as compared with the desolate, solitary
establishments of the Hudson's Bay Fur Company. These lonely dwellings
of the trader are scattered far and wide over the whole continent--
north, south, east, and west. Their population generally amounts to
eight or ten men--seldom to thirty. They are planted in the thick of an
uninhabited desert--their next neighbours being from two to five hundred
miles off; their occasional visitors, bands of wandering Indians; and
the sole object of their existence being to trade the furry hides of
foxes, martens, beavers, badgers, bears, buffaloes, and wolves. It will
not, then, be deemed a matter of wonder that the gentlemen who have
charge of these establishments, and who, perchance, may have spent ten
or twenty years in them, should look upon the colony of Red River as a
species of Elysium--a sort of haven of rest, in which they may lay their
weary heads, and spend the remainder of their days in peaceful felicity,
free from the cares of a residence among wild beasts and wild men. Many
of the retiring traders prefer casting their lot in Canada; but not a
few of them _smoke_ out the remainder of their existence in this
colony--especially those who, having left home as boys fifty or sixty
years before, cannot reasonably expect to find the friends of their
childhood where they left them, and cannot hope to remodel tastes and
habits long nurtured in the backwoods so as to relish the manners and
customs of civilised society.
Such an one was old Frank Kennedy, who, sixty years before the date of
our story, ran away from school in Scotland; got a severe thrashing from
his father for so doing; and having no mother in whose sympathising
bosom he could weep out his sorrow, ran away from home, went to sea, ran
away from his ship while she lay at anchor in the harbour of New York,
and after leading a wandering, unsettled life for several years, during
which he had been alternately a clerk, a day-labourer, a store-keeper,
and a village schoolmaster, he wound up by entering the service of the
Hudson's Bay Company, in which he obtained an insight into savage life,
a comfortable fortune, besides a half-breed wife and a large family.
Being a man of great energy and courage, and moreover possessed of a
large, powerful frame, he was sent to one of the most distant posts on
the Mackenzie River, as being admirably suited for the display of his
powers both mental and physical. Here the smallpox broke out among the
natives, and besides carrying off hundreds of these poor creatures,
robbed Mr Kennedy of all his children save two, Charles and Kate, whom
we have already introduced to the reader.
About the same time the council which is annually held at Red River in
spring for the purpose of arranging the affairs of the country for the
ensuing year thought proper to appoint Mr Kennedy to a still more
outlandish part of the country--as near, in fact, to the North Pole as
it was possible for mortal man to live--and sent him an order to proceed
to his destination without loss of time. On receiving this
communication Mr Kennedy upset his chair, stamped his foot, ground his
teeth, and vowed, in the hearing of his wife and children, that sooner
than obey the mandate he would see the governors and council of Rupert's
Land hanged, quartered, and boiled down into tallow! Ebullitions of
this kind were peculiar to Frank Kennedy, and meant _nothing_. They
were simply the safety-valves to his superabundant ire, and, like
safety-valves in general, made much noise but did no damage. It was
well, however, on such occasions to keep out of the old fur-trader's
way; for he had an irresistible propensity to hit out at whatever stood
before him, especially if the object stood on a level with his own eyes
and wore whiskers. On second thoughts, however, he sat down before his
writing-table, took a sheet of blue ruled foolscap paper, seized a quill
which he had mended six months previously, at a time when he happened to
be in high good-humour, and wrote as follows:--
To the Governor and Council of Rupert's Land, Red River Settlement.
Fort Paskisegun, _June 15, 18 hundred and something_.
GENTLEMEN,--I have the honour to acknowledge receipt of your favour of
26th April last, appointing me to the charge of Peel's River, and
directing me to strike out new channels of trade in that quarter. In
reply, I have to state that I shall have the honour to fulfil your
instructions by taking my departure in a light canoe as soon as
possible. At the same time I beg humbly to submit that the state of my
health is such as to render it expedient for me to retire from the
service, and I herewith beg to hand in my resignation. I shall hope to
be relieved early next spring.--I have the honour to be, gentlemen, your
most obedient humble servant, F. KENNEDY.
"There!" exclaimed the old gentleman, in a tone that would lead one to
suppose he had signed the death-warrant, and so had irrevocably fixed
the certain destruction, of the entire council--"there!" said he, rising
from his chair, and sticking the quill into the ink-bottle with a _dab_
that split it up to the feather, and so rendered it _hors de combat_ for
all time coming.
To this letter the council gave a short reply, accepting his
resignation, and appointing a successor. On the following spring old
Mr Kennedy embarked his wife and children in a bark canoe, and in
process of time landed them safely in Red River Settlement. Here he
purchased a house with six acres of land, in which he planted a variety
of useful vegetables, and built a summer-house after the fashion of a
conservatory, where he was wont to solace himself for hours together
with a pipe, or rather with dozens of pipes, of Canada twist tobacco.
After this he put his two children to school. The settlement was at
this time fortunate in having a most excellent academy, which was
conducted by a very estimable man. Charles and Kate Kennedy, being
obedient and clever, made rapid progress under his judicious management,
and the only fault that he had to find with the young people was that
Kate was a little too quiet and fond of books, while Charley was a
little too riotous and fond of fun.
When Charles arrived at the age of fifteen and Kate attained to fourteen
years, old Mr Kennedy went into his conservatory, locked the door, sat
down on an easy-chair, filled a long clay pipe with his beloved tobacco,
smoked vigorously for ten minutes, and fell fast asleep. In this
condition he remained until the pipe fell from his lips and broke in
fragments on the floor. He then rose, filled another pipe, and sat down
to meditate on the subject that had brought him to his smoking
apartment. "There's my wife," said he, looking at the bowl of his pipe,
as if he were addressing himself to it, "she's getting too old to be
looking after everything herself (_puff_), and Kate's getting too old to
be humbugging any longer with books; besides, she ought to be at home
learning to keep house, and help her mother, and cut the baccy (_puff_),
and that young scamp Charley should be entering the service (_puff_).
He's clever enough now to trade beaver and bears from the red-skins;
besides, he's (_puff_) a young rascal, and I'll be bound does nothing
but lead the other boys into (_puff_) mischief, although, to be sure,
the master _does_ say he's the cleverest fellow in the school; but he
must be reined up a bit now. I'll clap on a double curb and martingale.
I'll get him a situation in the counting-room at the fort (_puff_),
where he'll have his nose held tight to the grindstone. Yes, I'll fix
both their flints to-morrow;" and old Mr Kennedy gave vent to another
puff so thick and long that it seemed as if all the previous puffs had
concealed themselves up to this moment within his capacious chest, and
rushed out at last in one thick and long-continued stream.
By "fixing their flints" Mr Kennedy meant to express the fact that he
intended to place his children in an entirely new sphere of action; and
with a view to this he ordered out his horse and cariole [A sort of
sleigh.] on the following morning, went up to the school, which was
about ten miles distant from his abode, and brought his children home
with him the same evening. Kate was now formally installed as
housekeeper and tobacco-cutter; while Charley was told that his future
destiny was to wield the quill in the service of the Hudson's Bay
Company, and that he might take a week to think over it. Quiet,
warm-hearted, affectionate Kate was overjoyed at the thought of being a
help and comfort to her old father and mother; but reckless, joyous,
good-humoured, hare-brained Charley was cast into the depths of despair
at the idea of spending the livelong day, and day after day, for years
it might be, on the top of a long-legged stool. In fact, poor Charley
said that he "would rather become a buffalo than do it." Now this was
very wrong of Charley, for, of course, he didn't _mean_ it. Indeed, it
is too much a habit among little boys, ay, and among grown-up people
too, to say what they don't mean, as no doubt you are aware, dear
reader, if you possess half the self-knowledge we give you credit for;
and we cannot too strongly remonstrate with ourself and others against
the practice--leading, as it does, to all sorts of absurd exaggerations,
such as gravely asserting that we are "broiling hot" when we are simply
"rather warm," or more than "half dead" with fatigue when we are merely
"very tired." However, Charley _said_ that he would rather be "a
buffalo than do it," and so we feel bound in honour to record the fact.
Charley and Kate were warmly attached to each other. Moreover, they had
been, ever since they could walk, in the habit of mingling their little
joys and sorrows in each other's bosoms; and although, as years flew
past, they gradually ceased to sob in each other's arms at every little
mishap, they did not cease to interchange their inmost thoughts, and to
mingle their tears when occasion called them forth. They knew the
power, the inexpressible sweetness, of sympathy. They understood
experimentally the comfort and joy that flow from obedience to that
blessed commandment to "rejoice with those that do rejoice, and weep
with those that weep." It was natural, therefore, that on Mr Kennedy
announcing his decrees, Charley and Kate should hasten to some retired
spot where they could commune in solitude; the effect of which communing
was to reduce them to a somewhat calmer and rather happy state of mind.
Charley's sorrow was blunted by sympathy with Kate's joy, and Kate's joy
was subdued by sympathy with Charley's sorrow; so that, after the first
effervescing burst, they settled down into a calm and comfortable state
of flatness, with very red eyes and exceedingly pensive minds. We must,
however, do Charley the justice to say that the red eyes applied only to
Kate; for although a tear or two could without much coaxing be induced
to hop over his sun-burned cheek, he had got beyond that period of life
when boys are addicted to (we must give the word, though not pretty,
because it is eminently expressive) _blubbering_.
A week later found Charley and his sister seated on the lump of blue ice
where they were first introduced to the reader, and where Charley
announced his unalterable resolve to run away, following it up with the
statement that _that_ was "the end of it." He was quite mistaken,
however, for that was by no means the end of it. In fact it was only
the beginning of it, as we shall see hereafter.