John whirled around and saw Owen holding George in a bear hug.
Chapter 25
Imagine What We Could Become
“Let him go, Owen!” said John.
“Or what?” asked Owen. “You think you’re tough now, Johnny, after your time at the lake? Everyone knew that…thing wasn’t real.”
“Is that why you ran from the old tree the other night when you saw it – after knocking us in the water?”
“George and I have unfinished things to deal with, right George?” he said, ignoring John.
“If you leave him alone you can come with us,” John blurted.
“No way, John!” said George. “Do not say it – I am not afraid of him.” Owen squeezed harder. “Well, maybe a little,” he gasped.
“Why would I want to come with you two anywhere?” Owen sneered.
“Because old Mr. Thacker gave us a treasure map. And George and I think we’ve figured out where it is,” said John. He waved it from where he was standing.
Owen lessened his hold and stared at the map.
“You can have ten percent of whatever we find,” added John. “But only if you let George go and then don’t bother us again.”
“Uh, make it fifty,” said Owen.
“Okay, you can have fifty percent of the first ten percent that we find,” said John. “And that will be one hundred percent of all that you’re going to get, okay?” John could see Owen’s brain was starting to hurt from thinking. But he was already releasing his hold on George. “Fine – that’s more like it,” he said.
John bit his tongue so he wouldn’t laugh and mustered a serious expression. “Owen, you are far cleverer than you look.” Owen nodded solemnly.
“Now,” said John, “let’s get going.” John, George and Owen moved along the steep hill. The sound of the thick thread of water was a constant as they moved toward the waterfall. The great hill was especially steep here. The falls themselves could be reached by a narrow path along the face of the cliff. The three moved carefully, using coarse roots and embedded rocks to grip along the way.
“John,” said George whispering, “I cannot believe we are bringing Owen on what is supposed to be our treasure search.”
“It was either that or let Owen take you apart,” said John. He glanced back and saw Owen’s complexion was green. “Maybe he won’t make it anyway,” said John. He cupped his hand so Owen could hear. “Something wrong, Owen?”
“Of course not,” he said. His voice sounded higher than usual. “Where are you two going, anyway?”
“To the falls,” said John.
The waterfall was one hundred-and-fifty-feet above the village. John glanced down a few times and could see a few people moving about the village, but only through the filter of tree branches. No one was looking up that high and John was thankful since adults usually took a dim view of kids near the falls. The end of the narrow path led to an expanded, level area where they had a sparse amount of room to stand near the falls. The spray from the thread of water misted John’s face as he found his footing on the ledge. George and Owen joined him.
“It’s really slippery up here from the water,” warned John. “We better be – whoa!”
George reached out and steadied John who crouched lower until his heart slowed some. “Are you alright, mon ami?”
John nodded. “See?” said George, pointing to the rocks that jutted out from both sides of the falls. “It does not make any sense. Nothing is here.”
John crept closer and pulled at some of the smaller rocks that were sticking out of the back of the falls. “George – these are loose!” He pulled it out and was careful to set it on the expanse of ledge, rather than have it tumble down the great hill and hit the mill or another building.
“Give me a hand – but make sure we pile all the rocks here. We don’t want them to fall down the mountain.” Owen and George joined John, carefully piling all of the rocks they were removing. Owen was able to carry twice as much as John and George. As they removed the rocks from behind the falls, it was obvious that the space behind the waterfall was opening up into something larger.
“This is turning into some sort of cave,” said John. He was breathing more heavily now from the work and he couldn’t have been more elated. George hadn’t even checked his hair in twenty minutes, John realized, since he was so excited. Of course, it looked the same as always.
“John, you must have been right. There is going to be room here to have hidden something!”
Owen scrunched his forehead as he moved his muscled arms with greater speed. “I hope it’s gold. Remember how much I get, you two.”
“Oh, we won’t forget,” said John. He rolled his eyes at George when Owen wasn’t looking. After Owen moved a particularly large rock they could see open space.
“It is a cave!” said John. They worked quickly until there was a crawl space big enough to peer into. “George, can you fit in there?” asked John. “You’re the smallest.”
His friend looked at the dark hole and swallowed. John knew he was weighing the discovery of treasure with the unknown. He didn’t blame him.
“I’ll try.” George pointed both of his arms as if he were diving and started to push himself through the opening. John steadied George’s legs as he bellycrawled over the rocks. “Hey, I think I’m stuck,” he said wriggling his torso to try and fit through.
“No problem,” said Owen. He grabbed both of George’s ankles and shoved hard. The boy disappeared through the hole. “Oww!”
John heard him say something additional in French that he didn’t quite understand. “George, we can’t quite hear you.”
“I was just talking to Owen.” Owen scowled. “I don’t speak French.”
“I know,” said George. “Hey, John!” he added, his voice muffled by the cave. “I cannot see anything in here. It is damp…really dark. Keep moving stones. I will do the same thing from this side.”
Owen and John moved quickly from the outside while George removed rocks toward himself on the inside of the cave. Soon they were able to open up an increasingly larger space. John was able to squeeze his lanky frame through easily now while Owen forced his oversized body to comply, crashing through the other side. A few small stones went over the side and John prayed that no one noticed.
Once inside, John realized the cave itself was about the size of a small room. The waterfall continued to cascade toward the mill below, overshooting the mouth of the cave.
“This is fantastic,” said John. “There must have been a small avalanche of some kind which sealed it.” He looked around in the dim light.
“There’s nothing here,” said Owen. He was now at the far end of the cave and wore a look of disgust. John and George looked around, touching the walls and feeling the ground with their hands as if another room would appear somehow.
“I don’t understand,” said John. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm because his hands were blackened from the dirt. “I just know this is the place. I can feel it.”
Owen shifted his weight quickly toward John and George, who backed up against the wall. “You know what I feel? That you two are a waste of my time.”
John stopped breathing for a moment to guard against Owen’s breath. “We’re going to keep looking,” said John.
“And once we find it, you’ll still get your share,” said George.
Owen snorted then appeared to consider things. “That’s right. Anything you two find is fifty percent mine.”
“You mean fifty percent of the first ten percent that we find,” said John. “Remember, that represents one hundred percent of all that you’re going to get. Yes – you have our word on it.”
“Whatever,” said Owen, already turning. “I’m going home.”
John and George looked at one another with
a sigh of relief. They peered outside after a couple of minutes and saw Owen lumbering down the side of the mountain. George leaned back, dejected. “It was a great idea, John. Too bad there is nothing here.”
John leaned back and felt the soft earth of the floor of the cave. He used his heel to rub the dirt where he saw some discolouration. The small brown patch grew larger as he rubbed and he soon realized it was something buried just beneath the surface.
“What’s this?” He reached out and gently pulled on the brown material. It was soft and supple. A rectangular shaped leather pouch was in his hand. John brushed most of the dirt from it and scuttled to the mouth of the cave where there was more light. George joined him. “What’s inside? Gem stones?”
“Too light for that,” said John. He reached in and gently pulled out a single letter. The surface of the paper was similar to the treasure map. Carefully, he unfolded it and stared. “George, it’s in French!” said John. “And look, there’s a year at the top – 1759!”
“That’s the year Monsieur Thacker said it was – and that it was a French admiral who gave him the map!” added George.
John handed it over. “Come on, read it. I can only pick out certain words – and don’t leave anything out.” George took the letter and skimmed over the contents so he could understand what he was reading and to familiarize himself with the man’s handwriting. He swallowed. Even in the dim light of the cave John read the unease in his friend’s eyes. George read.
September 30, 1759
Dear Annette,
Let this not be my last letter to you, I pray. Earlier today, I received word that General Wolfe has defeated General Montcalm in Quebec. Both are dead. Quebec has fallen, although I am certain other battles will go on.
I have found an incredible, room-sized cave behind the waterfall on the mountain I earlier described. From my vantage point here, one hundred and fifty feet above, I can see British ships in the distance. With a heavy heart I realize a pitched sea battle is about to begin. Some other British ships, I fear, have already landed quietly, bringing soldiers to this strategic area.
And yet I must return to my ship, Annette, to rejoin my men. It will not be easy for it is a long and treacherous open shoreline. Pray for me that I make it. I have already sketched a rough map to this cave which I will bring with me, since I am unsure of when I might be able to return.
I have a small bounty on board my ship that I have been saving, which I will also hide in this cave when I return. If I am not successful in my return, then only this final letter shall remain here. All that I have saved on board may then be lost to the ages.
A sailor’s salary is no great fortune, even for one recently named ‘admiral.’ But it would be a start for us.
Truly, the treasure I have always sought is here, Annette, but only with you beside me. It seems a shame to continue to fight over this land, my love, for the more I see of the size and scope of it there is room enough for all. Perhaps I am too old for hatred now, but I grow weary of this war and wish others were also this tired. If each side were to turn their cannons down, imagine what we could build, here in this untamed land!
Imagine what a nation we could become.
But that is not for one admiral to decide, is it? Perhaps one day someone will stumble upon these words, or words like them, and find such a path to take. I leave these thoughts here in the hope that I may one day read them to you aloud in what would become our new country...our new home. Yet one way or another, I shall see you again.
Yours Now and Forevermore,
Joseph
Chapter 26
The Truth of it All
With both hands on the thick, wooden handle, John heaved the largest suitcase in front of him towards the bay where Cornelius would arrive this morning. George trailed with a smaller piece of luggage. Both contained John’s life in Kingston, until he would return again next year. The last couple of days had gone by quickly.
“You’re sure you’re okay with me keeping the letter?” asked John as they stumbled along.
“Oui, I am sure. Besides, it will help your French,” said George and grinned. “Guess what? Father tells me I might be able to visit you in Kingston, if we go this fall for supplies. We can look for serpents in Lake Ontario.”
John stopped and set the suitcase down so he could hit George in the arm. “Oww!”
“Don’t even think about it,” said John. As he continued walking, John looked down the strip of sand and water of the Bay of Quinte. To think that the French admiral had died here only a few feet away from where they stood captivated John. He looked down the edge of the bay and pictured the dying admiral reaching out and stuffing the rough sketch of map into the hands of the only person he could see. And to think that same young person was Jeremiah Thacker, now an old man, gave John a chill.
“Great,” said George, glancing over his shoulder. “Here comes your little sister again. Why does she always have to mess up my hair?”
“Like Moll said, she likes you,” said John, laughing.
“Mon dieu,” muttered George. He avoided Lou by speeding ahead to chat with Solomon Brook.
“Are you sad, John?” asked Lou, as she and Moll caught up with John.
“Some,” said John. “Kingston’s always a great adventure too – even with school. But I’ll miss you all, that’s for sure.”
“John?” said Lou.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for coming to get me out on the lake.”
“You’re welcome Lou – you already thanked me you know.”
She shrugged. “I know.” She took off to chase George.
Nearly at the shore, John gratefully set the oversized suitcase down and then sat on it. Its hard wooden sides easily accommodated his tall, lean frame. Moll joined him. She gave her brother a quick hug around his shoulder.
“Moll?”
“Hmm.”
“Remember when we were playing chess a few days ago?”
“Yes.”
“And you said I’m the only one carrying James inside of me with that memory – because I was the only one there?” She nodded.
“I don’t want that to be the only thought I have of James.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“When I let go of that memory – even a bit – I start to remember other things about him. Better things.” Moll hugged him again and John could see her pale skin was blotched with pink. “You’ll write?” Moll asked. “Of course.”
“You’ll get better at chess?” John shoved her a little and she laughed.
“In chess, the colonel shows no mercy,” said John. “Every game is like reliving a war for him. Guess I’ll have to get better if I want to win any matches at all.” He squinted toward the bay. “Well, there’s Cornelius.”
The long, slender Morning Bloom glided to shore and John could see the blonde, unkempt hair of Cornelius blowing in the breeze. John noticed Solomon Brook making his way over, too.
“Where’s Mother – and Father?” John asked Moll.
“They’re coming,” said Moll. “Mother’s packing you and Cornelius something to eat. She’ll bring Father down from the mill.”
A moment later they saw their mother exit the house with a basket and then enter the flour mill. Hugh brushed off flour from his pants as he walked beside Helen toward the shoreline. Cornelius was just loosely tying the bateau, when they arrived to where John and Moll were sitting.
The bateau operator quickly began loading other cargo that farmers and traders had brought this morning while the Macdonald’s said their goodbyes.
“So this is it again?” asked Hugh, smiling. “Stay well, son.” He offered his hand and John shook it. His father gave him half of an uncertain hug. “I can’t stay long – got to get back to the mill with business picking up.”
“It’s great that it’s getting busy, again, Father,” said John, watching another wagon pull up. “Stay well, too.” Helen asked four or five rapid questions – John lost count – about everything that he had packed. Once she was satisfied, she hugged him tightly. “You concentrate on your school work, you hear?”
“Yes, Mother.”
She grabbed him gently by the arm and steered him off to one side. Oh no. ow what?
“The last time your father was in Kingston he stopped in to chat with George Mackenzie.”
“The lawyer?” asked John.
“That’s right. He’s a young one, but a real up-andcomer. He told your father if your marks are good you could start working with him when you turn fifteen.”
John smiled and glanced at the others. “Are you serious, Mother? Really?”
“Yes, really. Now listen, the family’s depending on you, John. You might not realize it yet, but we’ll need you. This is an important path for you.” She grabbed John’s curly head and kissed him on the cheek and then handed him the food basket. “You’ll share with Cornelius?”
“Of course.”
Cornelius overheard this part and tipped an imaginary hat toward Helen in thanks. Then he lugged the two suitcases on board and stored them with other cargo.
“Careful, lad!” said Solomon. “That first suitcase alone will likely sink that thing long before Kingston.”
“Only if you’re coming along with it,” said Cornelius. Solomon laughed while his large belly shook.
After a few more brief hugs and warm wishes from everyone John boarded the bateau and Cornelius gently eased the boat out into the Bay of Quinte. John stood at the bow and waved.
As his family and friends grew smaller, he thought about how his future was growing in ways he could not have imagined at the start of summer. In only a year and a half he could be working as an apprenticing lawyer in Kingston. It was hard to feel the exact shape of his future – but maybe this was the right place to start.
John sat back against his luggage and listened to the water beneath them. He gazed at the cornflower blue of the sky creeping by, content with the gentle sounds of the lake beneath them. Cornelius was in a quiet mood and that suited John fine.
The Legends of Lake on the Mountain Page 12
