LAUNCHED INTO THE UNKNOWN
"You should have knocked that blasted quarantine's head off," ejaculated
Mr. Jack MacKenzie, with ferocious emphasis. I had been relating my
experience with the campers; and was recounting how the man put his head
out of the tent and warned me of smallpox. But my uncle was a gentleman
of the old school and had a fine contempt for quarantine.
"Knocked his head off, knocked his head off, Sir," he continued,
explosively. "Make it a point to knock the head off anything that stands
in your way, Sir----"
"But you don't suppose," I expostulated, about to voice my own
suspicions.
"_Suppose!_" he roared out. "I make it a point never to _suppose_
anything. I act on facts, Sir! You wanted to go into that wigwam; didn't
you? Well then, why the deuce didn't you go, and knock the head off
anything that opposed you?"
Being highly successful in all his own dealings, Mr. Jack MacKenzie
could not tolerate failure in other people. A month of vigilant
searching had yielded not the slightest inkling of Miriam and the child;
and this fact ignited all the gunpowder of my uncle's fiery
temperament. We had felt so sure Le Grand Diable's band of vagabonds
would hang about till the brigades of the North-West Company's tripmen
set out for the north, all our efforts were spent in a vain search for
some trace of the rascals in the vicinity of Quebec. His gypsy
nondescripts would hardly dare to keep the things taken from Miriam and
the child. These would be traded to other tribes; so day and night, Mr.
MacKenzie, Eric and I, with hired spies, dogged the footsteps of
trappers, who were awaiting the breaking up of the ice; shadowed
_voyageurs_, who passed idle days in the dram-shops of Lower Town, and
scrutinized every native who crossed our path, ever on the alert for a
glimpse of Diable, or his associates. Diligently we tracked all Indian
trails through Charlesbourg forest and examined every wigwam within a
week's march of the city. Le Grand Diable was not likely to be among his
ancestral enemies at Lorette, but his half-breed followers might have
traded with the Hurons; and the lodges at Lorette were also searched.
Watches were set along the St. Lawrence, so no one could approach an
opening before the ice broke up, or launch a canoe after the water had
cleared, without our knowledge. But Le Grand Diable and his band had
vanished as mysteriously as Miriam. It was as impossible to learn where
the Iroquois had gone as to follow the wind. His disappearance was
altogether as unaccountable as the lost woman's, and this, of itself,
confirmed our suspicions. Had he sold, or slain his captives, he would
not have remained in hiding; and the very fruitlessness of the search
redoubled our zeal.
The conviction that Louis Laplante had, somehow or other, played me
false, stuck in my mind like the depression of a bad dream. Again and
again, I related the circumstances to my uncle; but he "pished," and
"tushed," and "pooh-poohed," the very idea of any kidnappers remaining
so near the city and giving me free run of their wigwams. My reasonless
persistence was beginning to irritate him. Indeed, on one occasion, he
informed me that I had as many vagaries in my head as a "bed-ridden
hag," and with great fervor he "wished to the Lord there was a law in
this land for the ham-stringing of such fool idiots, as that _habitant_
Mute, who led me such a wild-goose chase."
In spite of this and many other jeremiades, I once more donned
snow-shoes and with Paul for guide paid a second visit to the campers of
the gorge. And a second time, I was welcomed by Louis and taken through
the wigwams. The smallpox tent was no longer on the crest of the hill;
and when I asked after the patient, Louis without a word pointed
solemnly to a snow-mound, where the man lay buried. But I did not see
the big squaw, nor the face that had emerged from the tent flaps to wave
me off; and when I also inquired after these, Louis' face darkened. He
told me bluntly I was asking too many questions and began to swear in a
mongrel jargon of French and English that my conduct was an insult he
would take from no man. But Louis was ever short of temper. I remembered
that of old. Presently his little flare-up died down, and he told me
that the woman and her husband had gone north through the woods to join
some crews on the Upper Ottawa. From the talk of the others, I gathered
that, having disposed of their hunt to the commissariat department at
the Citadel, they intended to follow the same trail within a few days. I
tried without questioning to learn what crews they were to join; but
whether with purpose, or by chance, the conversation drifted from my
lead and I had to return to the city without satisfaction on that point.
Meanwhile, Hamilton rested neither night nor day. In the morning with a
few hurried words he would outline the plan for the day. At night he
rode back to the Chateau with such eager questioning in his eyes when
they met mine, I knew he had nothing better to report to me, than I to
him. After a silent meal, he would ride through the dark forest on a
fresh mount. How and where he passed those sleepless nights, I do not
know. Thus had a month slipped away; and we had done everything and
accomplished nothing. Baffled, I had gone to confer with Mr. Jack
MacKenzie and had, as usual, exasperated him with the reiterated
conviction that Adderly and the Citadel writing paper and Louis Laplante
had some connection with the malign influence that was balking our
efforts.
"Fudge!" exclaims my uncle, stamping about his study and puffing with
indignation. "You should have knocked that blasted quarantine's head
off!"
"You've said that several times already, Mr. MacKenzie," I put in,
having a touch of his own peppery temper from my mother's side. "What
about Adderly's rage?"
"Adderly's been in Montreal since the night of the row. For the Lord's
sake, boy, do you expect to find the woman by believing in that bloated
bugaboo?"
"But the Citadel paper?" I persisted.
"Of course you've never been told, Rufus Gillespie," he began, choking
down his impatience with the magnitude of my stupidity, "that the
commissariat buys supplies from hunters?"
"That doesn't explain the big squaw's suspicions and Louis' own
conduct."
"That Louis!" says my uncle. "Pah! That son of an inflated old seigneur!
A fig for the buck! Not enough brains in his pate to fill a peanut!"
"But there might be enough evil in his heart to wreck a life," and that
was the first argument to pierce my uncle's scepticism. The keen eyes
glanced out at me as if there might be some hope for my intelligence,
and he took several turns about the room.
"Hm! If you're of that mind, you'd better go out and excavate the
smallpox," was his sententious conclusion. "And if it's a hoax, you'd
better----" and he puckered his brows in thought.
"What?" I asked eagerly.
"Join the traders' crews and track the villains west," he answered with
the promptitude of one who decides quickly and without vacillation. "O
Lord! If I were only young! But to think of a man too stout and old to
buckle on his own snow-shoes hankering for that life again!" And my
uncle heaved a deep sigh.
Now, no one, who has not lived the wild, free life of the northern
trader, can understand the strange fascinations which for the moment
eclipsed in this courteous and chivalrous old gentleman's mind all
thought of the poor woman, with whom my own fate was interwoven. But I,
who have lived in the lonely fastnesses of the splendid freedom, know
full well what surging recollections of danger and daring, of success
and defeat, of action in which one faces and laughs at death, and calm
in which one sounds the unutterable depths of very infinity--thronged
the old trader's soul. Indeed, when he spoke, it was as if the sentence
of my own life had been pronounced; and my whole being rose up to salute
destiny. I take it, there is in every one some secret and cherished
desire for a chosen vocation to which each looks forward with hope up to
the meridian of life, and to which many look back with regret after the
meridian. Of prophetic instincts and intuitions and impressions and
feelings and much more of the same kind going under a different name, I
say nothing, I only set down as a fact, to be explained how it may,
that all the way out to the gorge, with Paul, The Mute leading for a
third time, I could have sworn there would be no corpse in that
snow-covered grave. For was it not written in my inner consciousness
that destiny had appointed me to the wild, free life of the north? So I
was not surprised when Paul Larocque's spade struck sharply on a box.
Indians sleep their last sleep in the skins of the chase. Nor was I in
the least amazed when that same spade pried up the lid of cached
provisions instead of a coffin. Then I had ocular proof of what I knew
before, that Louis in word and conduct--but chiefly in conduct, which is
the way of the expert had--lied outrageously to me.
When the ice broke up at the end of April, hunters were off for their
summer retreats and _voyageurs_ set out on the annual trip to the _Pays
d'En Haut_. This year the Hudson's Bay Company had organized a strong
fleet of canoemen under Mr. Colin Robertson, a former Nor'-Wester, to
proceed to Red River settlement by way of the Ottawa and the Sault
instead of entering the fur preserve by the usual route of Hudson Bay
and York Factory. From Le Grand Diable's former association with the
North-West Company it was probable he would be in Robertson's brigade.
Among the _voyageurs_ of both companies there was not a more expert
canoeman than this treacherous, thievish Iroquois. As steersman, he
could take a crew safely through knife-edge rocks with the swift
certainty of arrow flight. In spite of a reputation for embodying the
vices of white man and red--which gave him his unsavory title--it seemed
unlikely that the Hudson's Bay Company, now in the thick of an
aggressive campaign against its great rival, and about to despatch an
important flotilla from Montreal to Athabasca by way of the
Nor'-Westers' route, would dispense with the services of this dexterous
_voyageur_. On the other hand, the Nor'-Westers might bribe the Iroquois
to stay with them.
Acting on these alternative possibilities, Hamilton and I determined to
track the fugitives north. We could leave hirelings to shadow the
movements of Indian bands about Quebec. Eric could re-engage with the
Hudson's Bay and get passage north with Colin Robertson's brigade, which
was to leave Lachine in a few weeks. My uncle had been a famous
_Bourgeois_ of the great North-West Company in his younger days, and
could secure me an immediate commission in the North-West Company. Thus
we could accompany the _voyageurs_ and runners of both companies.
Hamilton's arrangements were easily made; and my uncle not only obtained
the commission for me, but, with a hearty clap on my back and a "Bravo,
boy! I knew the fur trader's fever would break out in you yet!" pinned
to the breast of my inner waistcoat the showy gold medallion which the
_Bourgeois_ wore on festive occasions. In very truth I oft had need of
its inspiriting motto: _Fortitude in Distress_.
Feudal lords of the middle ages never waged more ruthless war on each
other than the two great fur trading companies of the north at the
beginning of the nineteenth century. Pierre de Raddison and Grosselier,
gentlemen adventurers of New France, first followed the waters of the
Outawa (Ottawa) northward, and passed from Lake Superior (the _kelche
gamme_ of Indian lore) to the great unknown fur preserve between Hudson
Bay and the Pacific Ocean; but the fur monopolists of the French court
in Quebec jealously obstructed the explorers' efforts to open up the
vast territory. De Raddison was compelled to carry his project to the
English court, and the English court, with a liberality not unusual in
those days, promptly deeded over the whole domain, the extent, locality
and wealth of which there was utter ignorance, to a fur trading
organization,--the newly formed "Company of Adventurers of England,
trading into Hudson's Bay," incorporated in 1670 with Prince Rupert
named as first governor. If monopolists of New France, through envy,
sacrificed Quebec's first claim to the unknown land, Frontenac made
haste to repair the loss. Father Albanel, a Jesuit, and other
missionaries led the way westward to the _Pays d'En Haut_. De Raddison
twice changed his allegiance, and when Quebec fell into the hands of the
British nearly a century later, the French traders were as active in the
northern fur preserve as their great rivals, the Ancient and Honorable
Hudson's Bay Company; but the Englishmen kept near the bay and the
Frenchmen with their _coureurs-des-bois_ pushed westward along the
chain of water-ays leading from Lake Superior and Lake Winnipeg to the
Saskatchewan and Athabasca. Then came the Conquest, with the downfall of
French trade in the north country. But there remained the
_coureurs-des-bois_, or wood-rangers, the _Metis_, or French
half-breeds, the _Bois-Brulés_, or plain runners--so called, it is
supposed, from the trapper's custom of blazing his path through the
forest. And on the ruins of French barter grew up a thriving English
trade, organized for the most part by enterprising citizens of Quebec
and Montreal, and absorbing within itself all the cast-off servants of
the old French companies. Such was the origin of the X. Y. and
North-West Companies towards the beginning of the nineteenth century. Of
these the most energetic and powerful--and therefore the most to be
feared by the Ancient and Honorable Hudson's Bay Company--was the
North-West Company, "_Les Bourgeois de la Compagnie du Nord-Ouest_," as
the partners designated themselves.
From the time that the North-Westers gratuitously poured their secrets
into the ears of Lord Selkirk, and Lord Selkirk shrewdly got control of
the Hudson's Bay Company and began to infuse Nor'-Westers' zeal into the
stagnant workings of the older company, there arose such a feud among
these lords of the north as may be likened only to the pillaging of
robber barons in the middle ages. And this feud was at its height when I
cast in my lot with the North-West Fur Company, Nor'-Westers had reaped
a harvest of profits by leaving the beaten track of trade and pushing
boldly northward into the remote MacKenzie River region. This year the
Hudson's Bay had determined to enter the same area and employed a former
Nor'-Wester, Mr. Colin Robertson, to conduct a flotilla of canoes from
Lachine, Montreal, by way of the Nor'-Westers' route up the Ottawa to
the Saskatchewan and Athabasca. But while the Hudson's Bay Company could
ship their peltries directly to England from the bay, the Nor'-Westers
labored under the disadvantage of many delays and trans-shipments before
their goods reached seaboard at Montreal. Indeed, I have heard my uncle
tell of orders which he sent from the north to England in October. The
things ordered in October would be sent from London in March to reach
Montreal in mid-summer. There they would be re-packed in small
quantities for portaging and despatched from Montreal with the
Nor'-Western _voyageurs_ the following May, and if destined for the far
north would not reach the end of their long trip until October--two
years from the time of the order. Yet, under such conditions had the
Nor'-Westers increased in prosperity, while the Hudson's Bay, with its
annual ships at York Factory and Churchill, declined.
When Lord Selkirk took hold of the Hudson's Bay there was a change. Once
a feud has begun, I know very well it is impossible to apportion the
blame each side deserves. Whether Selkirk timed his acts of aggression
during the American war of 1812-1814, when the route of the
Nor'-Westers was rendered unsafe--who can say? Whether he brought
colonists into the very heart of the disputed territory for the sake of
the colonists, or to be drilled into an army of defense for The Hudson's
Bay Company--who can say? Whether he induced his company to grant him a
vast area of land at the junction of the Red and Assiniboine
rivers--against which a minority of stockholders protested--for the sake
of these same colonists, or to hold a strategical point past which
North-Westers' cargoes must go--who can say? On these subjects, which
have been so hotly discussed both inside and outside law courts, without
any definite decision that I have ever heard, I refuse to pass judgment.
I can but relate events as I saw them and leave to each the right of a
personal decision.
In 1815, Nor'-Westers' canoes were to leave Ste. Anne de Beaupré, twenty
miles east of Quebec, instead of Ste. Anne on the Ottawa, the usual
point of departure. We had not our full complement of men. Some of the
Indians and half-breeds had gone northwest overland through the bush to
a point on the Ottawa River north of Chaudière Falls, where they were
awaiting us, and Hamilton, through the courtesy of my uncle, was able to
come with us in our boats as far as Lachine.
I was never a grasping trader, but I provided myself before setting out
with every worthless gew-gaw and flashy trifle that could tempt the
native to betray Indian secrets. Lest these should fail, I added to my
stock a dozen as fine new flint-locks as could corrupt the soul of an
Indian, and without consideration for the enemy's scalp also equipped
myself with a box of wicked-looking hunting-knives. These things I
placed in square cases and sat upon them when we were in barges, or
pillowed my head upon them at night, never losing sight of them except
on long portages where Indians conveyed our cargo on their backs.
A man on a less venturesome quest than mine could hardly have set out
with the brigades of canoemen for the north country and not have been
thrilled like a lad on first escape from school's leading strings. There
we were, twenty craft strong, with clerks, traders, one steersman and
eight willowy, copper-skin paddlers in each long birch canoe. No
oriental prince could be more gorgeously appareled than these gay
_voyageurs_. Flaunting red handkerchiefs banded their foreheads and held
back the lank, black hair. Buckskin smocks, fringed with leather down
the sleeves and beaded lavishly in bright colors, were drawn tight at
the waist by sashes of flaming crimson, green and blue. In addition to
the fringe of leather down the trouser seams, some in our company had
little bells fastened from knee to ankle. It was a strange sight to see
each of these reckless denizens of forest and plain pause reverently
before the chapel of _La Bonne Sainte Anne_, cross himself, invoke her
protection on the voyage and drop some offering in the treasury box
before hurrying to his place in the canoe. One Indian left the miniature
of a carved boat in the hands of the priest at the porch. It was his
votive gift to the saint and may be seen there to this day.
As we were embarking I noticed Eric had not come down and the canoes
were already gliding about the wharf awaiting the head steersman's
signal. I had last seen him on the church steps and ran back from the
river to learn the cause of his delay. Now Hamilton is not a Catholic;
neither is he a Protestant; but I would not have good people ascribe his
misfortunes to this lack of creed, for a trader in the far north loses
denominational distinctions and a better man I have never known. What,
then, was my surprise to meet him face to face coming out of the chapel
with tears coursing down his cheeks and floor-dust thick upon his knees?
Women know what to do and say in such a case. A man must be dumb, or
blunder; so I could but link my arm through his and lead him silently
down to my own canoe.
A single wave of the chief steersman's hand, and out swept the paddles
in a perfect harmony of motion. Then someone struck up a _voyageurs'_
ballad and the canoemen unconsciously kept time with the beat of the
song. The valley seemed filled with the voices of those deep-chested,
strong singers, and the chimes of Ste. Anne clashed out a last sweet
farewell.
"Cheer up, old man!" said I to Eric, who was sitting with face buried in
his hands. "Cheer up! Do you hear the bells? It's a God-speed for you!"