On a foggy morning of early July in the year 1890, the Labrador mail
boat, northward bound from St. Johns, felt her way cautiously into the
mist-enveloped harbour of Fort Pelican and to her anchorage.
For six days the little steamer had been buffeted by wind and ice and
fog, and when at last her engines ceased to throb and she lay at rest
in harbour, Allen Shadrach Trowbridge of Boston, her only passenger,
felt hugely relieved, for the voyage had been a most unpleasant one,
and here he was to disembark.
In June, Allen Shadrach Trowbridge--or "Shad" Trowbridge as the
fellows called him, and as we shall call him--had completed his
freshman year in college. When college closed he set sail at once for
Labrador, where he was to spend his summer holiday canoeing and
fishing in the wilderness.
This was the first extended journey Shad Trowbridge had ever made
quite alone. For many months he had been planning and preparing for
it, and he promised himself it was to be an eventful experience.
He was standing now at the rail, as the ship anchored, peering eagerly
through the mist at the group of low, whitewashed buildings which
composed Fort Pelican post of the Hudson's Bay Company, and at the dim
outline of dark forest behind--a clean-cut, square-shouldered,
athletic young fellow, who carried his head with the air of one
possessing a fair share of self-esteem and self-reliance, and whose
square jaw suggested wilfulness if not determination.
The rugged surroundings thrilled him with promise of adventure. The
historic post of the old fur traders, the boundless, mysterious
forest, and the romantic life of the trappers and dusky tribes which
it sheltered, were pregnant with interest. But his wildest dreams
could not have foretold the part Shad Trowbridge was destined to play
in this primordial land and life before he should bid farewell to its
bleak coast.
"A rough-looking country," remarked the steward, joining Shad at the
rail.
"It's glorious!" exclaimed Shad enthusiastically. "A real frontier!
And back there is a real wilderness! Just the sort of wilderness I've
dreamed about getting into all my life."
"The deck of the mail boat's about as near as I want to get to it,"
said the steward with a deprecatory shrug. "It's a land o' hard knocks
and short grub. You'd better leave it to the livyeres and Indians,
young man, and go back to God's country with the ship."
"No, thank you," said Shad. "I'm going to have a rattling good summer
hunting and fishing here before I see the ship again."
"When we come on our next voyage, a fortnight from now, you'll be
standing out there on the dock looking for us, and mighty glad to see
us," laughed the steward. "You'll have all you want of The Labrador by
then. Shall I put your things ashore?"
"Yes, if you please--all but the canoe. I'll paddle that over, if
you'll send a man to help me launch it."
"Pooh!" thought Shad, as the steward left him. "'Hard knocks and short
grub'! Of course there would be some hard knocks, but he expected
that, for he was going to rough it! But with the woods full of game
and fish there'd be plenty to eat! He didn't expect any Pullman-car
jaunt; he could have had that at home. What kind of a fellow did the
steward take him for, anyway?"
A half-dozen natives on the boat wharf watched Shad curiously as he
paddled to a low stretch of beach adjoining the wharf, and two of them
strolled down to inspect his canoe when he lifted it out of the water
and turned it upon its side at a safe distance above the lapping
waves.
"Now she's what I calls a rare fine canoe," observed one, a tall,
big-boned, loose-jointed fellow with a straggly red beard, and
picturesquely attired in moleskin trousers tucked into the tops of
sealskin boots, a flannel shirt, a short jacket, and the peakless cap
of the trapper.
"That she be, Ed, an' a wonderful sight better'n th' bark canoes th'
Injuns uses," agreed the other, a powerful, broad-shouldered,
deep-chested man, who wore a light-cloth adicky, but whose dress was
otherwise similar to that of his companion.
"She have better lines than th' Injun craft," said the one addressed
as Ed, eyeing the canoe critically.
"An' she's stancher--a wonderful lot stancher," continued the other.
"She is a pretty good canoe, and a splendid white-water craft," Shad
remarked, to break the ice of reserve, and to give the two trappers
the opening for conversation for which they were evidently hedging.
"Aye, sir," said the man in the adicky, "they's no doot o' that. Her
lines be right, sir. She'd be a fine craft in th' rapids, now--a fine
un."
"Be you comin' far, an' be you goin' back wi' th' ship?" asked Ed,
unable to restrain his curiosity longer.
"I came from Boston, and if I can get a guide I shall stay for the
summer and take a canoe trip into the country," answered Shad.
"I'm thinkin' you can get un in th' shop," suggested Ed.
"Get them in the shop?" asked Shad, in astonishment, not quite certain
whether he was misunderstood, or whether the trapper was making game
of him. Ed's respectful manner, however, quickly satisfied him that
the former was the case.
"Aye," said Ed. "They keeps a wonderful stock o' things in the shop."
"I refer to a man," explained Shad. "I wish to employ a man to go into
the country with me to show me about and to assist me."
"'Tis a pilot you wants!" exclaimed Ed, light breaking upon him.
"O' course 'tis a pilot!" broke in the other, with an intonation that
suggested scorn of Ed's ignorance. "A pilot an' a guide be th' same
thing. A pilot be a guide, an' a guide be a pilot."
"I'd like wonderful well t' pilot you myself, sir, but I couldn't do
it nohow," volunteered Ed, in a tone of apology. "You see, I has my
nets out, an' I has t' get in firewood for th' wife, t' last she
through th' winter whilst I be on th' trail trappin'. An Dick here's
fixed th' same. Dick an' me's partners fishin', an' he gives me a hand
gettin' out wood, an' I helps he. This be Dick Blake, sir," continued
Ed, suddenly remembering that there had been no introduction, "an' I
be Ed Matheson."
"I'm glad to make your acquaintance, gentlemen," Shad acknowledged.
"My name is Trowbridge. Perhaps you may be able to tell me where I can
employ a guide. I would appreciate your assistance."
"Le'me see," Ed meditated. "Now I'm thinkin' Ungava Bob might go," he
at length suggested. "He were home th' winter, an' they hauled a rare
lot o' wood out wi' th' dogs, an' his father can 'tend th' nets. What
d'you think, Dick?"
"Aye, Ungava Bob could sure go, whatever," agreed Dick.
"'Ungava Bob' sounds interesting," said Shad. "How old a man is this
Ungava Bob, and is that his real name, or is 'Ungava' a title?"
"He's but a lad-eighteen year old comin' September--but a rare likely
lad--good as a man. Aye, good as a man," declared Ed.
"His real name be Bob Gray," explained Dick, "but we calls him 'Ungava
Bob' for a wonderful cruise he were makin' two year ago comin'
winter."
"Seventeen years of age, and already so famous as to have won a title!
I'm interested, and I'd like to hear more about him," suggested Shad.
"An' you wants t' hear," said Ed. "But now we be a-standin' an'
a-keepin' you, when you wants t' see Mr. Forbes."
"Yes, I wish to see Mr. Forbes, if he is the factor of the post, but
you haven't detained me in the least. I can see him presently,"
reassured Shad.
"Mr. Forbes be wonderful busy till th' ship goes, an' she'll be here
for nigh an hour yet," advised Ed.
"Very well, I'll not call on him, then, till the ship goes," decided
Shad, "and I'd be glad to hear something of Ungava Bob's travels, in
the meantime."
"We might step into th' men's kitchen, where there be seats an' we can
talk in comfort," suggested Ed. "This fog be wonderful chillin'
standin' still."
"That's a good suggestion," agreed Shad. "The fog is cold." And he
followed the two trappers down the long board walk to the men's
kitchen.