Sam and Jack had stayed behind in the saloon, and for the first time in months, Theo made love to her. Later, as Beth lay sleepily snuggled into his shoulder, listening to all the merrymaking throughout the camp, she felt she must be the happiest woman there.
The late-night revels didn’t prevent anyone getting up early the following morning and running down to check on the state of the ice.
There were still some large chunks floating by but it was clear enough to set sail and go. Suddenly everyone was striking their tents, packing up their pots and bedding, and hauling their provisions and equipment down to their boats.
Beth smiled to herself as she folded up her red satin dress and put out her best boots for Theo to seal up in one of the big waterproof sacks which they wouldn’t open again until they got to Dawson City. She was wearing her old dark blue cotton dress again, her mackinaw coat, wide-brimmed hat and rubber boots. A change of clothing and her fiddle were packed in a small waterproof bag for the journey.
She watched Sam as he packed away his things. He was bare-chested, the first time she’d seen him without a shirt since the previous summer, and it was a surprise to see that the boyish, slender chest and back that she remembered from their days in Liverpool were now rippling with hard-packed muscle. But then, she’d got muscles in her legs and arms too. All that pack-carrying, sledge-pulling and carrying buckets of water had made her almost as strong as the men.
‘Are you excited, Sam?’ she asked.
‘You bet!’ he said, his handsome face breaking into a wide smile. ‘I know we’ve got a long way to go yet, but it’ll be an easy ride, and the weather’s so good now.’
‘I wonder if we’ll still stick together when we get there,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Do you still think you and Theo can make a go of a gambling saloon?’
‘’ Course we can, sis.’ He laughed. ‘With you pulling them in with your fiddle, we can’t fail.’
‘Do you ever think of England?’ she asked. This was a question she’d never thought to ask him before.
He smiled. ‘To be honest, not much. What is there to go back for? We’d never have the thrills we get here.’
‘But there’s Molly,’ she said.
He scratched his blond head and looked a little perplexed. ‘We’d be nothing to her now. She won’t even remember us. Besides, I know I wouldn’t fit into that narrow way of life again. Not after this.’
Beth felt a lump come up in her throat and her eyes prickled with tears. ‘Then I guess I’ll have to go back alone.’
Sam caught hold of both her arms and squeezed them. ‘What’s up with you, sis? You shouldn’t be thinking about stuff like that today. We’re off on an adventure.’
‘How many times do you think you’ve said that to me since we left Liverpool?’ she asked. ‘It’s always what’s going to happen next, never a pause to think on the past.’
‘Was the past that good it needs digging up?’ he asked with a trace of scorn in his voice. ‘As I recall, it was all about being told what I had to do — no one ever asked what I wanted. Well, I wanted to be rich even as a boy, and I want it more than ever now. It’s up there in Dawson City, Beth, just lying around waiting for us, whether we dig it out the ground, or take it from others at gambling. Being rich will wipe out Papa killing himself because Mama was unfaithful to him.’
Beth was shocked to hear him say such a thing. She’d thought he’d put that aside a long time ago.
‘I can’t forget,’ he said, as if he’d read her thoughts. ‘It stops me trusting women too — except you of course.’
‘Well, I’m glad of that much,’ she said sarcastically. ‘But what happens if you don’t get rich in Dawson?’
‘I will,’ he said blithely. ‘I know it.’
Over 7,000 boats sailed that afternoon in the warm sunshine, a vast armada of the strangest craft ever to be seen anywhere. Some had only an old coat or shirt as a sail; most sported a kind of home-made flag with the boat’s name painted or sewn on to it. Some of the craft were already listing dangerously; others looked jaunty and sporty. Old folk, young folk, bankers, shop clerks, farmers, soldiers, sailors and dance-hall girls — every walk of life was represented here. Some had left wives and families behind, some escaping the law; there were those from privileged backgrounds and those from big city slums. Yet the vast majority had never done anything exciting in their lives before and had invested their life savings in this mad adventure.
Beth felt all their hopes as she sat in the stern of Gypsy, with Jack and Sam paddling like fury, and Theo at the rudder. The cries of ‘See you in Dawson’ rang out over the lake and echoed in the mountains. She glanced towards the shore to see what looked like a vast waste tip: abandoned sawmills, ragged remains of tents, clothes and packing cases. Empty bottles and cans glinting in the sunshine, thousands of tree stumps, a whole forest cut down to build boats.
Everyone paddled and rowed frantically at first, all wanting to be up with the front runners, but as they reached deeper water, a breeze got up and caught the sails, and the paddles and oars were put down.
Later, the wind dropped and they were all becalmed, but as if by some silent message sent from boat to boat, no one reached for their oars, but just settled down, lit their pipes and let the current take them. Singing broke out all over the lake, the joyful sound of people who believed the worst was all behind them and that tomorrow was soon enough to rush for the gold.
The race resumed early the following morning, and Jack was delighted to find their big sail came into its own and took them along at a good speed. There were perhaps forty or fifty boats ahead, but behind them the rest of the vast armada was bunched up in clusters.
What with the warm sun, shining water and because their raft appeared to be far more stable and manageable than any other they’d seen, their spirits rose even higher. Jack had built low stools for them to sit on, so any water splashing up through the cracks of the raft wouldn’t soak their clothes, and they lounged on them, complimenting themselves on their good workmanship and foresight.
It was during the afternoon that Beth noticed some of the people in the boats ahead were pointing to what looked like a red flag hanging from a tree, and a scrawled one-word message on a piece of wood, saying, ‘Cannon’.
‘Seems like a warning,’ Jack said, and the words had barely left his lips when they heard the roar of tumbling water beyond.
As the lake made a slight turn to the left, they suddenly saw a narrow gorge before them, with steep black stone sides.
Beth gasped, Theo turned pale, and Sam waved his hat in excitement. ‘Hold tight,’ Jack shouted. ‘This must be Miles Canyon.’
One of the Mounties had told them about the canyon. He said it was a terrifyingly dangerous place with two lots of rapids beyond it, but none of them had expected it to come so soon. It was too late for them to paddle over to the shore and check it out, for the raft was being sucked straight into the gorge.
‘Take the paddles and use them to stop us being smashed against the sides,’ Jack yelled, thrusting a paddle into both Sam’s and Theo’s hands. ‘I’ll try and steer us. Beth, you just hold on for dear life.’
They all looked on in sheer horror as the raft hurtled into the canyon. It was a third of the width of the river they’d been in previously, and because the water was being forced into a much narrower space, it created a crest some four feet high in the middle. They were virtually teetering on this crest, going at breakneck speed, and the roar of the water was so loud they couldn’t hear one another speak.
The water was full of drifting timber, brought along here on the current from the mountain lakes, and large boulders and sharp rocks. Beth clung to the rail, watching in terror as Jack tried to steer them round the obstacles, and each time she heard a scrape on the bottom of the raft she braced herself for it being overturned.
Ahead of them they saw a large scow capsize, and five or six men desperately trying to cling on to it as it swirled around, smashing into rocks
and boulders.
Beth glanced behind her and saw a canoe upturned, with no sign of the owner. But it was too frightening even to think about others, for their own raft was spinning round and round, up at the prow one minute, and then the stern would rear up like a bucking horse. Huge, icy waves washed over the raft, and they had to cling on to the sides in fear of being thrown overboard.
Beth closed her eyes involuntarily, and when she opened them she saw two more boats crash into boulders. One broke up instantly as if it were built from matchsticks.
Only Jack was standing. He’d lashed himself to the raft rail with rope, and with every muscle in his body straining, he held his paddle in his hands, using it to steer them past rocks and avoid crashing into the canyon walls.
One minute Sam had been kneeling at the prow, also wielding his paddle to push them away from rocks, but when Beth looked again he was gone.
‘Sam!’ she shrieked at the top of her lungs. ‘Sam’s gone over!’
She clung to the rail as she frantically looked for him but she could see nothing in the dark, boiling water but chunks of timber.
Theo and Jack were searching too, but like her they couldn’t see him.
‘He’ll have been swept ahead of us!’ Jack yelled out. ‘He’ll have the sense to grab some timber to hold him up.’
She had to hope Jack was right, for it was clear there was nothing they could do to rescue Sam even if they should see him in the canyon.
The raft went into a spin then as it was caught in a whirlpool and all they could do was cling on tightly, praying that the nightmare would soon be over.
Out of the whirlpool they came and were shot into an even narrower canyon, then spat out with force at the end into rapids. They felt the sharp rocks scraping the bottom timbers of the raft and heard screams coming from other boats, but they were being swept along so fast they could barely see who or what they were passing.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. They were in calm water again.
Jack paddled to the shore, leapt out and secured the raft. All along the bank there were boats doing the same thing, some smashed up, some holed underneath. Most of them had lost goods or people overboard.
The roar of the rapids was behind them, but the sound of people wailing in distress was all around. Huge sacks of goods floated by, flour, sugar and rice spilling out. A cage of squawking chickens crashed into the bank, dogs swam for shore and shook themselves. There were many people in the water, most clinging to a big log or a packing case. Theo and Jack jumped in and swam to their aid, while Beth ran back along the bank, looking for Sam.
She saw two people pulled out lifeless, their friends and relatives desperately trying to revive them, and finally she caught sight of Sam. Even from a distance of some hundred yards she knew it was him by his butter-coloured hair and the red neckerchief around his neck. She knew too that he was dead, for he was floating on the current, his limbs not moving.
‘He’s there!’ she shouted to Theo and Jack, pointing to where he was. ‘Get him quickly.’
The swift current flashed Sam along to them, and together they hauled him over towards the shore. Beth plunged into the shallows to help them and, taking her brother’s head in her hands, she saw it had been cracked wide open on a rock.
All three were silent as they lifted Sam on to the shore, each of them knowing that the frantic life-saving efforts others were making with their loved ones were of no use to their friend and brother.
Beth dropped to her knees beside Sam, sobbing as she dried his handsome face with her skirt. He had been far more than a brother; he was her childhood playmate, her ally, friend and confidant and they’d shared everything for their whole lives. She couldn’t believe that fate could have been cruel enough to snatch him from her.
She could hear a terrible wailing sound, and as Jack and Theo tried to take her arms to lift her away from Sam’s body, she realized that the sound was coming from herself.
‘I can’t go on without him,’ she cried angrily. ‘He’s all I had left of my family.’
‘You’ve still got us,’ Theo said, pulling her into his arms. ‘We know how you feel. Jack and I loved him too.’
It was only then that she saw they were both crying as well. There was no attempt to hide their grief in a manly way; tears streamed down their faces unchecked and their eyes mirrored the pain she felt.
How long they stood huddled together by Sam’s body weeping, Beth didn’t know. They were all soaking wet and shivering with the cold, but it was as if shock and grief had paralysed them. More craft must have been overturned coming through the rapids, for she dimly heard others screaming and shrieking. But it was only when a man spoke their names and offered to help dig a grave that they came out of their frozen state sufficiently to recognize him and his companions as men they knew from Lake Bennett, and to acknowledge that they did have to bury Sam.
‘He was a good man,’ their leader said, his eyes full of real sympathy and understanding. ‘We are so very sorry for your loss. Let us help you.’
‘It isn’t right,’ Beth sobbed as she watched the men start digging into some softer ground a few yards from the water’s edge. ‘We’ve come so far and been through so much. Why did we have to lose him now?’
‘I didn’t see him go,’ Jack said wildly, as if he believed he might have been able to change the outcome if he had.
Theo knelt down beside Sam and smoothed his blood-streaked hair back from his forehead. ‘Oh, Sam, Sam, what will we do without you?’ he asked, his voice cracking with sorrow.
It didn’t seem real to Beth as she watched Jack and Theo lower Sam into the hastily dug grave. Her mother and father had both been buried on cold, grey days; she’d said goodbye to Molly in similar weather; even the day she’d lost her baby had been cold and bleak. Funerals were meant to be on grey days, in sober places, not here in bright sunshine by a sparkling river with clumps of vivid spring flowers growing along its banks. Sam was young and strong — he had his whole life ahead of him and so many plans and dreams; it couldn’t be right that he wasn’t going to achieve any of them. Beth almost felt as if any moment she would wake and find it had been a terrible nightmare, and Sam would laugh with her about it.
But it was real, for Theo was reciting a passage from the Bible, his voice trembling as he struggled not to break down. The wooden cross Jack had nailed together and roughly chiselled Sam’s name on to was lying on the mound of soil waiting to be speared into the grave.
Their voices were thin and reedy as they sang ‘Rock of Ages’, and Beth thought bitterly that God had deserted her once again.
All along the river bank others were dealing with the aftermath of the canyon, some digging a grave, some tending those who’d been injured. She could hear weeping and the distressed cries of those who’d lost their boats and goods. And she could hear the sound of her own heart breaking.
Chapter Thirty
‘How muchee? How muchee?’ Another group of Stick Indians called out from their camp on the river bank. Beth averted her eyes for they were dirty, ragged and sick-looking, and she felt guilty at not giving them anything. But they’d already given food to other groups further back along the river, and they could spare no more. Besides, she’d been told that the Indians sold whatever they were given back to other stampeders, and with thousands of boats passing every day, they were probably making a good living.
The early spring flowers had given way to bluebells and lupins, a sea of blue along the river banks. Every now and then Beth would spot a moose, sometimes with a calf, drinking from the river, or a black bear peeping from behind a tree as if astounded at so many humans going through its domain. Wild fruits — cranberries, blackcurrants and raspberries — were ripening amongst the rocks and mosses and the scent of wild roses wafted to her on the breeze.
It was spectacular scenery, and she wished she could delight in it all. But since Sam died back at the Squaw Rapids, it was as though the sun had gone in for go
od and she’d never rejoice in anything again.
Five men lost their lives that day, and countless more would have done if Steele of the Mounties hadn’t arrived to avert further disaster. Aside from the deaths, there were dozens of boats smashed up; all those sacks of provisions carried over the Pass were split open and ruined in the water, and many treasured possessions were lost. Some people were so distraught they were tearing at their hair, sobbing and screaming.
Steele made rules on the spot that no more boats should sail through the rapids without a competent person in charge, and that all women should bypass the rapids by walking the five-mile overland route.
Jack had hardly said a word since they buried Sam. Beth knew he was torturing himself with the thought that he could have prevented the accident. But both she and Theo knew he could not have done. He had done well to get the raft through in one piece with all their goods intact. Sam must have been careless and let go of the rail.
But rationalizing how it came about didn’t help their grief. No one would ever be able to take Sam’s place in their lives, and right now Beth couldn’t see how she could go on without him.
When she tried to stop thinking about her brother she found herself dwelling on the baby she lost and feeling desperate to see Molly again. She supposed this was natural; Molly was after all her only living relative now. She couldn’t count the times she had got out her photograph, drinking in her sweet face and curly hair, and thinking back to those early days when she’d fed and changed her.
Beth couldn’t expect Jack and Theo to understand her feelings about Molly, but it did give her some comfort that they felt just as keenly as she did about Sam. Maybe she had the lion’s share of memories and the blood tie, yet they had loved him too. The pain was still too raw for any of them to speak freely about their feelings, or to share their best memories of him. But maybe that would come in time.
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