We lose our Cows--Cahill promoted--Gardening on a New Principle--Onions
in Hot-houses--Cahill is hoaxed--Martin the Builder--How the Navvies
lived--Sunday in Camp--The Cook's Leap--That "Beautiful Skunk!"--Wild
Fruits--Parting.
A few weeks after the fire, the C----s had another loss, in the sudden
death of two cows. No cause could be assigned for it; unless there might
have been poison in the wild hay which they ate, put there by the Indians
to kill the foxes. The difficulty of supplying their place on the line in
the spring made the loss considerable, especially with children in the
house, and no fresh meat attainable.
Carrière had been so completely laid up with rheumatism that he had
resigned his post, giving place for our old friend Cahill, who
immediately undertook the charge of the garden, which he said he
understood thoroughly. Looking one day into the hot-beds, which he seemed
to have taken much pride in, I found he had filled more than half the
space with different varieties of onions, and another part with carraway
seeds! When I asked why he put them in there, he said--
"Shure, ye couldn't have anything betther nor inions. Many's the thousand
I've raised in Ireland, when I was with Kurnel Kitchener in Limerick."
After the cress had gone to seed, Mrs. C---- told him, to take it out,
and sow other things in its place. A little while afterwards, I saw the
old fellow transplanting something very carefully, which proved upon
investigation to be the cress. When I told him it was not worth the
trouble, he looked up and said, in a very indignant tone--
"Throw it away, is it? Shure, if I'd known that was all the good it was,
it's meself wouldn't have filled me hot-beds wid it! The thrash!"
One day he received a very long, narrow parcel and note through the mail.
Early next morning, I saw the old fellow sitting on a stump in the
garden, carefully spelling over the letter, which did not seem a long
one. When Harry ran up to him, Cahill brought the child back to me, and
looking all about to see that no one else was near, said, in a mysterious
tone--
"See here, Miss F----. I got a parcel be the mail-man yesterday, an'
here's the spicification that came wid it. Would you read it, miss, and
till me who ye think would send it? I think meself it's a trick, an' I'll
be even wid thim yit." And he handed me a crumpled piece of paper about
four inches square, on which I read--
"To Michael Cahill, Esq,
Office of the Civil Engineer,
Lake Diception
"Sirs,
"Hearin' ye were lately appointed Governmint gardner, we sind
a sample of our goods. Eny orders ye can sind will receive
prompt attintion.
"Green and Brown, manufacturing company,
"County of Limerick,
"Ireland."
"Of course it's a joke, Cahill," I said. "But where's the sample?"
"Shure, I buried it behind the shanty; it's a wooden hoe, cut out o' the
root of a three, I think I know who sint it," he went on, drawing near,
with another cautious look round.
"It was wrapped up wid some copies of the _Ottawa Citizen_
newspaper, an' there are only two min on the line that take it at all. So
ye see I can spot them!" Fumbling in his pockets, he produced a scrap of
the paper, and, turning it this way and that, discovered some writing
which, upon close inspection, proved to be my own name. His tormentors
had wrapped it in one of the papers I had lent him.
To describe the old man's wrath and astonishment, mingled with keen sense
of fun (for an Irishman _can_ see a joke, even against himself), is
impossible. I had little trouble in persuading him that to take no notice
of either parcel or "spicification" would be the best way to disappoint
his foes. Long afterwards, whenever I met him, he gave me a knowing side
glance of mutual understanding that was irresistible.
In the mean time, the house was fast being rebuilt on the old site, but
on a much improved plan. The former had been a two-story building of
squared logs, and, to my eyes, an insult to the landscape. The new one, a
low cottage of rough logs, seemed to fit into the valley without marring
the view from any point. The beautiful wooded hall to the north, which
had been completely shut out by the old house, now formed a lovely
background to the cottage and garden.
The little Frenchman Martin, the master builder, was another character in
his way; a lively, energetic little fellow, whose eyes were everywhere.
Not the driving in of a single nail escaped him. Yet, with all his
watchfulness, he did more work than any three of his men. The habitual
use of salt pork and beans, added to the total absence of vegetable diet
during the long winter and summer, had caused scurvy to break out among
the men, and poor Martin was suffering very much from it. To keep him in
better health until the house was finished, Mrs. C---- supplied him with
potatoes, which he ate raw, sliced and soaked in vinegar; and I believe,
from a conversation I overheard between him and one of his men, that
these raw potatoes, bread, and tea constituted the man's entire food for
the last six weeks of his work on the line. Many others had not even the
potatoes, yet they daily passed the garden, where lettuces and other
vegetables, a cure for their sufferings, grew in profusion, and did not
take a leaf. I know, had I been in like case, early training would have
gone to the winds, and the eighth Commandment have become a dead letter.
We had unusual opportunities of seeing the real life of a navvy while we
lived in the shanty. Our men came from nearly all parts of the
world--Russia, Sweden, Germany, Holland, Iceland, Ireland, Great Britain,
and the Dominion. There were also many Scotch and French half-breeds, as
well as full-blooded Indians, among them, the contractors finding that
associating the various nationalities in camp was more conducive to peace
and obedience than when a large number of fellow-countrymen formed a
gang. Next to us, in reality under the same roof, was the store,
containing everything a navvy could want--from hats and boots to pickles
and tobacco.
Sunday, the only day off work, was the general shopping day, and as it
was also mail day the place was crowded, and the week's news discussed. A
little below the store was another large shanty, where about a hundred
and twenty men lived, the kitchen ruled over by a tall and rather
good-looking Frenchman, who had lived amongst the Indians at Fort Francis
so long that he spoke their language as well as they did. "Black Joe," as
he was generally called, was an authority amongst the men, and was very
fond of a little black poodle, which he cared for as a child, spending
all his leisure, moments in fondling it and teaching it tricks. He had
an assistant named Ironsides, who was not only "cookee," but could sew up
and dress a cut as well as the doctor, and his services were very often
called into requisition.
Sunday was washing day in camp, too; every tub was in use, and every low
branch or rude fence hung with the men's clothes. In one place you would
see a man sitting on a stump to have his hair cut; another repairing the
week's wear and tear of his garments. A group of interested listeners lie
or sit round the happy possessor of the latest paper, who is reading it
aloud. Others, of livelier tastes, gather round an accordion-player, who
gives the "Marseillaise" with the fire and feeling of a true artist. Some
hard workers, whose idea of pleasure is perfect rest, lie on their backs
in the sun, with their hats tilted over their faces, sound asleep,
heedless of the roars of laughter from a cluster of men, to whom old
Cahill is relating one of his most wonderful stories; others stand before
a small looking-glass, hung against a tree, performing their toilets
with immense satisfaction; while more active spirits are on their way to
the lake, with their fishing tackle, for a long day's sport.
Card-playing was forbidden in camp. Of course there were a few who
gambled in defiance of orders, but when detected they were at once
dismissed by the superintendent, who declared that they ought not to
profane the Sabbath. Mr. K---- was strict, and apparently severe with the
men, yet he was a general favourite. He avowed one day that he could
manage any number of men, but the "weemin were beyond him." The
contractor had tried employing women cooks, believing that they would be
more economical than the men; but those he engaged were such a trouble to
look after, that he declared "either he or thim weemin would have to
leave the line." One woman cook was called by the men "7-10," from her
great size, and her camp being at 7-10 station. On her way across the
Lake of the Woods after her dismissal, the big steamer, as usual, ran on
a rock, and the passengers had to be transferred to a row-boat large
enough to hold thirty people. "7-10" refusing assistance, and attempting
to jump into the boat, jumped completely _over_ it, and was dragged
out of the water by the laughing crew, who dubbed the rock "7-10's Leap."
Mr. C---- had all the stores of provisions which were saved from the fire
put into a small root-house under the north hill. The ice in the lakes
having broken up unusually early the bad state of the roads during the
winter made it necessary for all supplies brought out on the contract to
be "packed"--that is, carried on men's backs. Each man being paid two
dollars a day, and not averaging more than sixteen miles, made this a
very expensive process; consequently our supplies became valuable, only
what was absolutely indispensable being sent for till the Dawson road was
passable and the steamer running. One morning I saw Cahill peering into
the root-house, and evidently watching something with great interest.
Then he ran to the shanty for his gun, and my curiosity being aroused, I
inquired what was the matter. Touching the brim of his old straw hat, he
replied, "Shure, it's fine prey I've got to shoot this mornin', Miss F----.
As beautiful a skunk as ever ye see!" and levelling the gun, he was
about to shoot, when memories of former odours made me implore him to
desist. "But he'll ate all the pork!" the old fellow remonstrated, much
aggrieved at being deprived of so fine an opportunity of displaying his
prowess. I assured him that, if let alone, the "beautiful skunk" would go
quietly away when he had enjoyed a good meal; but, if disturbed, he would
use his natural weapon of defence, and destroy everything in the
root-house. But--
"A man convinced against his will
Is of the same opinion still,"
and old Cahill, though he shouldered his weapon and walked away, grumbled
as he went. We paid frequent visits to the root-house that morning to see
if the intruder had gone, but he did not leave until the middle of the
second day. Skunks, or polecats, are not numerous in that part of the
country. The dogs sometimes came in from a hunt very strongly scented by
them, but, with the exception of our visitor, we never saw one about the
premises. They abound in prairies and swampy grounds, and when attacked
the odour they emit is overpowering and indescribable; without exception
the worst that ever assailed our nostrils.
As the spring wore on we spent the brightening days in gathering
wild-flowers, going fishing, and repeating the weekly routine of a quiet
life in the woods. The weather grew hotter, the flies more plentiful, and
our highest gratification seemed to be to make a good smudge in the
evening, sit round it, and talk. How gladly we welcomed the first
strawberries and blue-berries which pretty Mrs. Bucketee, as we called
her, brought to us! She got the name from always being hungry
(_bucketee_), when she came, and she laughed merrily one day when
called so inadvertently. We ourselves went out and gathered several
pailsful from the rocks on the first portage. Blue-berries, or
knuckle-berries as they are called in Ontario, grow much larger in the
North-west than I ever saw them elsewhere, being sometimes as large as
small Delaware grapes. The little bushes grow thickly in the crevices of
the rocks, and are so completely covered with fruit that their tiny
leaves are scarcely visible. They have a beautiful bloom upon them when
fresh, and are cool and delicious to the taste.
Summer swiftly passed, and the time drew near when I was to leave Lake
Deception, and, after staying a day or two at each of the other houses on
the line, turn my steps eastward, back to what my friends called
civilized life. It was not without many a heartache that I bade good-bye
to the wee bairns whom I loved so dearly, knowing that, though my regrets
might be lifelong, in their childish hearts the pain of parting would be
but the grief of an hour.