Lords of the North

by Agnes C. Laut

  CHAPTER IV

  LAUNCHED INTO THE UNKNOWN

  "You should have knocked that blasted quarantine's head off," ejaculatedMr. Jack MacKenzie, with ferocious emphasis. I had been relating myexperience with the campers; and was recounting how the man put his headout of the tent and warned me of smallpox. But my uncle was a gentlemanof 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 standsin your way, Sir----"

  "But you don't suppose," I expostulated, about to voice my ownsuspicions.

  "_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'tyou? Well then, why the deuce didn't you go, and knock the head offanything that opposed you?"

  Being highly successful in all his own dealings, Mr. Jack MacKenziecould not tolerate failure in other people. A month of vigilantsearching had yielded not the slightest inkling of Miriam and the child;and this fact ignited all the gunpowder of my uncle's fierytemperament. We had felt so sure Le Grand Diable's band of vagabondswould hang about till the brigades of the North-West Company's tripmenset out for the north, all our efforts were spent in a vain search forsome trace of the rascals in the vicinity of Quebec. His gypsynondescripts would hardly dare to keep the things taken from Miriam andthe child. These would be traded to other tribes; so day and night, Mr.MacKenzie, Eric and I, with hired spies, dogged the footsteps oftrappers, who were awaiting the breaking up of the ice; shadowed_voyageurs_, who passed idle days in the dram-shops of Lower Town, andscrutinized every native who crossed our path, ever on the alert for aglimpse of Diable, or his associates. Diligently we tracked all Indiantrails through Charlesbourg forest and examined every wigwam within aweek's march of the city. Le Grand Diable was not likely to be among hisancestral enemies at Lorette, but his half-breed followers might havetraded with the Hurons; and the lodges at Lorette were also searched.Watches were set along the St. Lawrence, so no one could approach anopening before the ice broke up, or launch a canoe after the water hadcleared, without our knowledge. But Le Grand Diable and his band hadvanished as mysteriously as Miriam. It was as impossible to learn wherethe Iroquois had gone as to follow the wind. His disappearance wasaltogether as unaccountable as the lost woman's, and this, of itself,confirmed our suspicions. Had he sold, or slain his captives, he wouldnot have remained in hiding; and the very fruitlessness of the searchredoubled our zeal.

  The conviction that Louis Laplante had, somehow or other, played mefalse, stuck in my mind like the depression of a bad dream. Again andagain, I related the circumstances to my uncle; but he "pished," and"tushed," and "pooh-poohed," the very idea of any kidnappers remainingso near the city and giving me free run of their wigwams. My reasonlesspersistence was beginning to irritate him. Indeed, on one occasion, heinformed me that I had as many vagaries in my head as a "bed-riddenhag," and with great fervor he "wished to the Lord there was a law inthis 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 donnedsnow-shoes and with Paul for guide paid a second visit to the campers ofthe gorge. And a second time, I was welcomed by Louis and taken throughthe wigwams. The smallpox tent was no longer on the crest of the hill;and when I asked after the patient, Louis without a word pointedsolemnly to a snow-mound, where the man lay buried. But I did not seethe big squaw, nor the face that had emerged from the tent flaps to waveme off; and when I also inquired after these, Louis' face darkened. Hetold me bluntly I was asking too many questions and began to swear in amongrel jargon of French and English that my conduct was an insult hewould take from no man. But Louis was ever short of temper. I rememberedthat of old. Presently his little flare-up died down, and he told methat the woman and her husband had gone north through the woods to joinsome crews on the Upper Ottawa. From the talk of the others, I gatheredthat, having disposed of their hunt to the commissariat department atthe Citadel, they intended to follow the same trail within a few days. Itried without questioning to learn what crews they were to join; butwhether with purpose, or by chance, the conversation drifted from mylead and I had to return to the city without satisfaction on that point.

  Meanwhile, Hamilton rested neither night nor day. In the morning with afew hurried words he would outline the plan for the day. At night herode back to the Chateau with such eager questioning in his eyes whenthey met mine, I knew he had nothing better to report to me, than I tohim. After a silent meal, he would ride through the dark forest on afresh mount. How and where he passed those sleepless nights, I do notknow. Thus had a month slipped away; and we had done everything andaccomplished nothing. Baffled, I had gone to confer with Mr. JackMacKenzie and had, as usual, exasperated him with the reiteratedconviction that Adderly and the Citadel writing paper and Louis Laplantehad some connection with the malign influence that was balking ourefforts.

  "Fudge!" exclaims my uncle, stamping about his study and puffing withindignation. "You should have knocked that blasted quarantine's headoff!"

  "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. "Whatabout Adderly's rage?"

  "Adderly's been in Montreal since the night of the row. For the Lord'ssake, boy, do you expect to find the woman by believing in that bloatedbugaboo?"

  "But the Citadel paper?" I persisted.

  "Of course you've never been told, Rufus Gillespie," he began, chokingdown his impatience with the magnitude of my stupidity, "that thecommissariat buys supplies from hunters?"

  "That doesn't explain the big squaw's suspicions and Louis' ownconduct."

  "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 thatwas the first argument to pierce my uncle's scepticism. The keen eyesglanced 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 thesmallpox," was his sententious conclusion. "And if it's a hoax, you'dbetter----" and he puckered his brows in thought.

  "What?" I asked eagerly.

  "Join the traders' crews and track the villains west," he answered withthe promptitude of one who decides quickly and without vacillation. "OLord! If I were only young! But to think of a man too stout and old tobuckle on his own snow-shoes hankering for that life again!" And myuncle heaved a deep sigh.

  Now, no one, who has not lived the wild, free life of the northerntrader, can understand the strange fascinations which for the momenteclipsed in this courteous and chivalrous old gentleman's mind allthought of the poor woman, with whom my own fate was interwoven. But I,who have lived in the lonely fastnesses of the splendid freedom, knowfull well what surging recollections of danger and daring, of successand defeat, of action in which one faces and laughs at death, and calmin which one sounds the unutterable depths of very infinity--throngedthe old trader's soul. Indeed, when he spoke, it was as if the sentenceof my own life had been pronounced; and my whole being rose up to salutedestiny. I take it, there is in every one some secret and cherisheddesire for a chosen vocation to which each looks forward with hope up tothe meridian of life, and to which many look back with regret after themeridian. Of prophetic instincts and intuitions and impressions andfeelings and much more of the same kind going under a different name, Isay 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 athird time, I could have sworn there would be no corpse in thatsnow-covered grave. For was it not written in my inner consciousnessthat destiny had appointed me to the wild, free life of the north? So Iwas 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 inthe least amazed when that same spade pried up the lid of cachedprovisions instead of a coffin. Then I had ocular proof of what I knewbefore, that Louis in word and conduct--but chiefly in conduct, which isthe way of the expert had--lied outrageously to me.

  When the ice broke up at the end of April, hunters were off for theirsummer retreats and _voyageurs_ set out on the annual trip to the _Paysd'En Haut_. This year the Hudson's Bay Company had organized a strongfleet of canoemen under Mr. Colin Robertson, a former Nor'-Wester, toproceed to Red River settlement by way of the Ottawa and the Saultinstead of entering the fur preserve by the usual route of Hudson Bayand York Factory. From Le Grand Diable's former association with theNorth-West Company it was probable he would be in Robertson's brigade.Among the _voyageurs_ of both companies there was not a more expertcanoeman than this treacherous, thievish Iroquois. As steersman, hecould take a crew safely through knife-edge rocks with the swiftcertainty of arrow flight. In spite of a reputation for embodying thevices of white man and red--which gave him his unsavory title--it seemedunlikely that the Hudson's Bay Company, now in the thick of anaggressive campaign against its great rival, and about to despatch animportant flotilla from Montreal to Athabasca by way of theNor'-Westers' route, would dispense with the services of this dexterous_voyageur_. On the other hand, the Nor'-Westers might bribe the Iroquoisto stay with them.

  Acting on these alternative possibilities, Hamilton and I determined totrack the fugitives north. We could leave hirelings to shadow themovements of Indian bands about Quebec. Eric could re-engage with theHudson's Bay and get passage north with Colin Robertson's brigade, whichwas to leave Lachine in a few weeks. My uncle had been a famous_Bourgeois_ of the great North-West Company in his younger days, andcould secure me an immediate commission in the North-West Company. Thuswe could accompany the _voyageurs_ and runners of both companies.

  Hamilton's arrangements were easily made; and my uncle not only obtainedthe 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!" pinnedto the breast of my inner waistcoat the showy gold medallion which the_Bourgeois_ wore on festive occasions. In very truth I oft had need ofits inspiriting motto: _Fortitude in Distress_.

  Feudal lords of the middle ages never waged more ruthless war on eachother than the two great fur trading companies of the north at thebeginning of the nineteenth century. Pierre de Raddison and Grosselier,gentlemen adventurers of New France, first followed the waters of theOutawa (Ottawa) northward, and passed from Lake Superior (the _kelchegamme_ of Indian lore) to the great unknown fur preserve between HudsonBay and the Pacific Ocean; but the fur monopolists of the French courtin Quebec jealously obstructed the explorers' efforts to open up thevast territory. De Raddison was compelled to carry his project to theEnglish court, and the English court, with a liberality not unusual inthose days, promptly deeded over the whole domain, the extent, localityand wealth of which there was utter ignorance, to a fur tradingorganization,--the newly formed "Company of Adventurers of England,trading into Hudson's Bay," incorporated in 1670 with Prince Rupertnamed as first governor. If monopolists of New France, through envy,sacrificed Quebec's first claim to the unknown land, Frontenac madehaste to repair the loss. Father Albanel, a Jesuit, and othermissionaries led the way westward to the _Pays d'En Haut_. De Raddisontwice changed his allegiance, and when Quebec fell into the hands of theBritish nearly a century later, the French traders were as active in thenorthern fur preserve as their great rivals, the Ancient and HonorableHudson's Bay Company; but the Englishmen kept near the bay and theFrenchmen with their _coureurs-des-bois_ pushed westward along thechain of water-ays leading from Lake Superior and Lake Winnipeg to theSaskatchewan and Athabasca. Then came the Conquest, with the downfall ofFrench trade in the north country. But there remained the_coureurs-des-bois_, or wood-rangers, the _Metis_, or Frenchhalf-breeds, the _Bois-Brules_, or plain runners--so called, it issupposed, from the trapper's custom of blazing his path through theforest. And on the ruins of French barter grew up a thriving Englishtrade, organized for the most part by enterprising citizens of Quebecand Montreal, and absorbing within itself all the cast-off servants ofthe old French companies. Such was the origin of the X. Y. andNorth-West Companies towards the beginning of the nineteenth century. Ofthese the most energetic and powerful--and therefore the most to befeared by the Ancient and Honorable Hudson's Bay Company--was theNorth-West Company, "_Les Bourgeois de la Compagnie du Nord-Ouest_," asthe partners designated themselves.

  From the time that the North-Westers gratuitously poured their secretsinto the ears of Lord Selkirk, and Lord Selkirk shrewdly got control ofthe Hudson's Bay Company and began to infuse Nor'-Westers' zeal into thestagnant workings of the older company, there arose such a feud amongthese lords of the north as may be likened only to the pillaging ofrobber barons in the middle ages. And this feud was at its height when Icast in my lot with the North-West Fur Company, Nor'-Westers had reapeda harvest of profits by leaving the beaten track of trade and pushingboldly northward into the remote MacKenzie River region. This year theHudson's Bay had determined to enter the same area and employed a formerNor'-Wester, Mr. Colin Robertson, to conduct a flotilla of canoes fromLachine, Montreal, by way of the Nor'-Westers' route up the Ottawa tothe Saskatchewan and Athabasca. But while the Hudson's Bay Company couldship their peltries directly to England from the bay, the Nor'-Westerslabored under the disadvantage of many delays and trans-shipments beforetheir goods reached seaboard at Montreal. Indeed, I have heard my uncletell of orders which he sent from the north to England in October. Thethings ordered in October would be sent from London in March to reachMontreal in mid-summer. There they would be re-packed in smallquantities for portaging and despatched from Montreal with theNor'-Western _voyageurs_ the following May, and if destined for the farnorth would not reach the end of their long trip until October--twoyears from the time of the order. Yet, under such conditions had theNor'-Westers increased in prosperity, while the Hudson's Bay, with itsannual ships at York Factory and Churchill, declined.

  When Lord Selkirk took hold of the Hudson's Bay there was a change. Oncea feud has begun, I know very well it is impossible to apportion theblame each side deserves. Whether Selkirk timed his acts of aggressionduring the American war of 1812-1814, when the route of theNor'-Westers was rendered unsafe--who can say? Whether he broughtcolonists into the very heart of the disputed territory for the sake ofthe colonists, or to be drilled into an army of defense for The Hudson'sBay Company--who can say? Whether he induced his company to grant him avast area of land at the junction of the Red and Assiniboinerivers--against which a minority of stockholders protested--for the sakeof these same colonists, or to hold a strategical point past whichNorth-Westers' cargoes must go--who can say? On these subjects, whichhave been so hotly discussed both inside and outside law courts, withoutany 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 apersonal decision.

  In 1815, Nor'-Westers' canoes were to leave Ste. Anne de Beaupre, twentymiles east of Quebec, instead of Ste. Anne on the Ottawa, the usualpoint of departure. We had not our full complement of men. Some of theIndians and half-breeds had gone northwest overland through the bush toa point on the Ottawa River north of Chaudiere Falls, where they wereawaiting us, and Hamilton, through the courtesy of my uncle, was able tocome with us in our boats as far as Lachine.

  I was never a grasping trader, but I provided myself before setting outwith every worthless gew-gaw and flashy trifle that could tempt thenative to betray Indian secrets. Lest these should fail, I added to mystock a dozen as fine new flint-locks as could corrupt the soul of anIndian, and without consideration for the enemy's scalp also equippedmyself with a box of wicked-looking hunting-knives. These things Iplaced in square cases and sat upon them when we were in barges, orpillowed my head upon them at night, never losing sight of them excepton long portages where Indians conveyed our cargo
on their backs.

  A man on a less venturesome quest than mine could hardly have set outwith the brigades of canoemen for the north country and not have beenthrilled like a lad on first escape from school's leading strings. Therewe were, twenty craft strong, with clerks, traders, one steersman andeight willowy, copper-skin paddlers in each long birch canoe. Nooriental prince could be more gorgeously appareled than these gay_voyageurs_. Flaunting red handkerchiefs banded their foreheads and heldback the lank, black hair. Buckskin smocks, fringed with leather downthe sleeves and beaded lavishly in bright colors, were drawn tight atthe waist by sashes of flaming crimson, green and blue. In addition tothe fringe of leather down the trouser seams, some in our company hadlittle bells fastened from knee to ankle. It was a strange sight to seeeach of these reckless denizens of forest and plain pause reverentlybefore the chapel of _La Bonne Sainte Anne_, cross himself, invoke herprotection on the voyage and drop some offering in the treasury boxbefore hurrying to his place in the canoe. One Indian left the miniatureof a carved boat in the hands of the priest at the porch. It was hisvotive 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 canoeswere already gliding about the wharf awaiting the head steersman'ssignal. I had last seen him on the church steps and ran back from theriver 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 hismisfortunes to this lack of creed, for a trader in the far north losesdenominational distinctions and a better man I have never known. What,then, was my surprise to meet him face to face coming out of the chapelwith 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, orblunder; so I could but link my arm through his and lead him silentlydown to my own canoe.

  A single wave of the chief steersman's hand, and out swept the paddlesin a perfect harmony of motion. Then someone struck up a _voyageurs'_ballad and the canoemen unconsciously kept time with the beat of thesong. The valley seemed filled with the voices of those deep-chested,strong singers, and the chimes of Ste. Anne clashed out a last sweetfarewell.

  "Cheer up, old man!" said I to Eric, who was sitting with face buried inhis hands. "Cheer up! Do you hear the bells? It's a God-speed for you!"