Wherever half a dozen average men are banded together and condemned to
make the best of each other's society for a prolonged period, there is
apt to be a stagnation of ideas as well as of aspirations, which tends
more or less to develop the physical, and to stunt the spiritual, part
of our nature.
So thought MacSweenie as he sat one fine spring morning on a rude chair
of his own making in front of the outpost on Great Bear Lake which he
had helped to build.
The Scottish Highlander possessed a comparatively intellectual type of
mind. We cannot tell precisely the reach of his soul, but it was
certainly "above buttons." The chopping of the firewood, the providing
of food, the state of the weather, the prospects of the advancing
spring, and the retrospect of the long dreary winter that was just
vanishing from the scene, were not sufficient to appease his
intellectual appetite. They sufficed, indeed, for his square, solid,
easy-going, matter-of-fact interpreter, Donald Mowat; and for his chief
fisherman, guide, and bowman, Bartong, as well as for his other men, but
they failed to satisfy himself, and he longed with a great longing for
some congenial soul with whom he might hold sweet converse on something
a little higher than "buttons."
Besides being thus unfortunate in the matter of companionship, our
Highlander was not well off as to literature. He had, indeed, his
Bible, and, being a man of serious mind, he found it a great resource in
what was really neither more nor less than banishment from the world;
but as for light literature, his entire library consisted of a volume of
the voyages of Sir John Franklin, a few very old numbers of _Chambers's
Edinburgh Journal_, and one part of that pioneer of cheap literature,
_The Penny Magazine_. But poor MacSweenie was not satisfied to merely
imbibe knowledge; he wished also to discuss it; to philosophise and to
ring the changes on it.
He occasionally tried his hand on Mowat, who was undoubtedly the most
advanced of his staff intellectually, but the results were not
encouraging. Donald was good-natured, amiable, ready to listen and to
accord unquestioning belief, but, not having at that time risen above
"buttons," he was scarcely more able to discuss than an average
lamp-post.
Occupying the position of a sort of foreman, or confidential clerk, the
interpreter had frequent occasion to consult his superior on the details
of the establishment and trade.
"I'm thinking, sir," said he, approaching his master on the spring
morning in question, "that we may as well give the boat an overhaul, for
if this weather lasts the open water will soon be upon us."
"You are right, Tonal'," answered the trader, knocking the ashes out of
his pipe, and proceeding to refill it. "That iss just what wass in my
own mind, for we must be thinkin' about makin' preparations for our trip
to the Ukon Ruver. We will hev to start whenever my successor arrives
here. Man, it will be a goot job when we are off, for I am seek--tired
of this place. Wan hes nothin' in the world to think about but his
stamik, an' that iss not intellectooal, whatever."
"Are we to use the inch or the inch-an'-a-half nails?" asked Mowat,
after a moment's pause.
"Whichever you like, Tonal'. There iss plenty of both in the store, an'
ye are as goot a judge o' these metters as I am myself. Just help
yoursel', man; only see that the work is done well, for there iss a
rough trup before us when we do git away. An' the load will be heavy
moreover, for there will be a deal of stuff needed if we are to build an
outpost fit to spend a winter in. Man, it iss pleasant to think that we
will break up new ground--open up a new country among savitches that
scarce knows what like a white man iss. We will feel quite like what we
felt as boys when we was readin' Robinson Crusoe."
"We will need two pit-saws," remarked the practical Orkney-man in a
meditative tone.
"No doubt, no doubt," returned MacSweenie, "and a grindstone too. Do
you remember what that man Nazinred said when he came here on his last
trup,--that the Indians about his country would be fery pleased to see
traders settle among them? He little thought--an' no more did I--that
we would be so soon sent to carry out their wishes; but our Governor is
an active-minded man, an' ye never know what he'll be at next. He's a
man of enterprise and action, that won't let the gress grow under his
feet--no, nor under the feet of anybody that he hes to do wi'. I am
well pleased, whatever, that he hes ordered me on this service. An' no
doubt ye are also well pleased to go, Tonal'. It will keep your mind
from gettin' rusty."
"I am not ill-pleased," returned the interpreter gravely.--"I'm thinkin'
there won't be enough o' pitch to go over all the seams o' the boat. I
was--"
"Hoot, man! never mind the putch, Tonal'. What there iss will do fery
well, an' the boat that comes with supplies for the new post will be
sure to hev plenty. By the way, I wonder if that fine man Nazinred will
hev come back when we get to the Ukon River. It wass a strange notion
of his the last comers told us about, to go off to seek his daughter all
by himself. I hev my doubts if he'll ever come back. Poor man! it wass
naitural too that he should make a desperate attempt to get back his
only bairn, but it wass not naitural that a wise man like him should go
off all his lone. I'm afraid he wass a little off his head. Did they
tell you what supplies he wass supposed to have taken?"
"Yes. The wife said he had a strong sled with him, an' the best team o'
dogs in the camp.--Do you think the boat will need a new false keel? I
was lookin' at it, an' it seemed to me rather far gone for a long trup."
"I will go an' hev a look at it, Tonal'. But I hev been wonderin' that
Mozwa, who seemed so fond o' his frund, should hev let him start away
all by his lone on such a trup."
"He couldn't help lettin' him," said Mowat, "for he didn't know he was
goin' till he was gone."
"You did not tell me that," said the trader sharply.
"Well, perhaps I did not," returned the interpreter, with an amiable
smile. "It is not easy to remember all that an Indian says, an' a good
deal of it is not worth rememberin'.--Would you like me to set-to an'
clean up the store to-day, or let the men go on cuttin' firewood?"
"Let them do whatever you think best, Tonal'," replied MacSweenie, with
a sigh, as he rose and re-entered his house, where he busied himself by
planning and making elaborate designs for the new "fort," or outpost,
which he had been instructed to establish on the Ukon River. Afterwards
he solaced himself with another pipe and another dip into the well-worn
pages of the _Penny Magazine_.
Not long after the conversation just narrated, the boat arrived with the
gentleman appointed to relieve MacSweenie of his charge on Great Bear
Lake, and with the supplies for the contemplated new post.
Action is not usually allowed to halt in those wild regions. A few days
sufficed to make over the charge, pack up the necessary goods, and
arrange the lading of the expedition boat; and, soon after, MacSweenie
with Donald Mowat as steersman, Bartong as guide and bowman, and eight
men--some Orkney-men, some half-breeds--were rowing swiftly towards the
Arctic shore.
Passing over the voyage in silence, we raise the curtain again on a warm
day in summer, when animal life in the wild nor'-west is very lively,
especially that portion of the life which resides in mosquitoes,
sand-flies, and such-like tormentors of man and beast.
"We should arrive at the Ukon to-morrow, if my calculations are right--
or nixt day, whatever," said MacSweenie to his interpreter and
steersman, as he sat smoking his pipe beside him.
"Bartong is of the same opeenion," returned Mowat, "so between you we
should come right. But Bartong is not quite sure about it himself, I
think. At least he won't say much."
"In that respect the guide shows himself to be a wise man," returned
MacSweenie sententiously. "It iss only geese that blab out all they
think to everybody that asks them questions."
"Ay, that is true," rejoined Mowat, with a cynical smile, "an' some
geese manage, by sayin' nothin' at all to anybody, and lookin' like
owls, to pass themselves off as wise men--for a time."
Bartong, who was being thus freely discussed in the stern of the boat,
sat in his place at the bow-oar, pulling a steady stroke and casting
serious looks right and left at the banks of the river as they went
along. He was a dark fine-looking stalwart man, of what may be called
mixed nationality, for the blood of Scotchmen, French Canadians, and
Indians flowed in his veins--that of Indians predominating, if one were
to judge from appearance. He was what is called in the parlance of the
nor'-west a "good" man--that is to say he was mentally and physically
well adapted for the work he had to do, and the scenes in the midst of
which his lot had been cast. He pulled a good oar; he laboured hard;
could do almost any kind of work; and spoke English, French, and Indian
almost equally well. He also had a natural talent for finding his way
almost anywhere in the wilderness. Hence he had been sent as guide to
the expedition, though he had never been at the Ukon River in his life.
But he had been to other parts of the Arctic shore, and had heard by
report of the character and position of the river in question.
"It iss gettin' late, Bartong; don't you think it would be as well to
camp here?" asked MacSweenie.
The bowman ceased rowing, and the crew followed his example, while he
glanced inquiringly up at the sky and round his limited horizon, as
guides and seamen are wont to do when asked for an opinion as to
professional movements.
"There will yet be daylight for an hour, and there is a small lake ahead
of us. If we cross it, we come to a place where one of the Indians said
he would meet us if we came to his country."
"That is true, Tonal'," said the leader, turning quickly to his
steersman, "I had almost forgot that, it wass so long ago since we met
them. Both Nazinred and Mozwa said something about meetin' us, if we
came to settle, though I paid little attention at the time. But are ye
sure, Bartong, that this is the lake?"
"I know not. It is not unlikely. If it is the lake, it is small, and
we will soon come to the end of it. If it is not the lake, an' turns
out to be big, we can camp on the shore. The night will be fine."
"Go ahead then, boys," cried the leader, "we will try."
The oars were dipped at once, and the men pulled with a will, encouraged
by the conversation, which seemed to indicate the approaching end of
their voyage.
The lake over the bosom of which they were soon sweeping proved to be a
small one, as they had hoped, but whether it was the one referred to by
the Indians remained to be seen. A sharp look-out was kept for the
smoke of wigwams, but nothing of the kind was seen on either side, and
the end of the lake was finally reached without any sign of the presence
of natives being observed.
"No doubt Mozwa has forgotten, or it may be that he iss away to seek for
his frund Nazinred among the Eskimos. No metter. We will camp here,
whatever, for the night. I think on the other side o' that point will
be a goot campin' ground."
He pointed in the direction indicated, and there was just daylight
enough left to enable Mowat to steer into a narrow creek.
There is something calming, if not almost solemnising, in the quietude
with which a boat glides ashore, on a dark night, under the overhanging
trees of a wilderness lake. The oars are necessarily stopped, and the
voices hushed, while the bowman, standing erect, with a long pole in
hand, tries to penetrate the thick mysterious darkness that seems to be
the very gate of Erebus. Bartong stood ready to thrust the head of the
boat off any rocks that might suddenly appear in their course, or give
the order to "back all" should the water become too shallow. But no
obstacles presented themselves, and the boat forged slowly ahead until
it lay alongside a ledge of rock or natural jetty. Then the spell was
broken as the men leaped ashore and began to unload the things that were
required for the night's bivouac.
Still, the voices were moderated, for it is not easy to shake off the
tranquillising effect of such a scene at such an hour, and it was not
till the camp-fire was lighted, and the kettles were on, and the pipes
going full blast, that the cheering effect of light chased the
depressing influence of darkness away.
Then, indeed, MacSweenie, dropping the _role_ of leader, assumed that of
_bon camarade_; and Mowat, descending from the dignity of steersman,
enlarged upon his experiences in other days; and Bartong, still
retaining his dignity however, relaxed his anxious frown and listened
with an air of intelligent appreciation that charmed every speaker, and
induced the belief that he could cap every anecdote and story if he only
chose to open his mouth; while the men divided their sympathies between
the narratives, the tobacco-pipes, and the music of the frying-pan and
bubbling kettle.
Then, too, the darkness into which they had penetrated fled away,--not
indeed entirely, but forsaking the bright spot thus created in the
wilderness, it encircled the camp as with a wall of ebony.
It was not long, however, ere appetites were appeased, and the voyagers
sought repose; for men who have to work hard all day at a healthy
occupation are not addicted to late hours--at least not in the
wildernesses of the nor'-west. Ere long every man was rolled in his
blanket, stretched out with his feet to the fire and his head on his
coat, while the blaze sank low, until at last the red embers alone
remained to render darkness visible.
Among the last to seek repose were the leader of the expedition, the
interpreter, and the bowman. Having the cares of state on their
shoulders, these three naturally drew together for a little consultation
after the others had retired.
"What iss your opeenion, Bartong?" asked MacSweenie, pushing down the
tobacco in his pipe with the end of a very blunt and much charred
forefinger; "do you think the savitches will come here at all?"
"Maybe they will, and maybe they won't," answered the guide, with a
caution worthy of the Scottish portion of his blood. "We niver know
what Injins is goin' to do till they do it."
"Umph!" ejaculated the Highlander; "if Solomon had been your grandfather
you could scarcely hev made a wiser speech.--What think you, Tonal'?"
"Weel, as ye put it to me, I must say that I'm strongly of Bartong's
opeenion."
"Just so," remarked MacSweenie, with a thoughtful air; "so, as I agree
wi' you both, I think it iss about time for us all to turn in."
He turned in accordingly, by lying back in his place and drawing his
blanket over him.
The other statesmen immediately followed his example, and the camp
subsided into silence.