“Yes, tell us the truth this time.”
Pierre knew he should not admit it, but he also knew that if he drank too much it would probably come out anyway. “William wants me to go along and look after his brother-in-law, Phillippe, who is also my nephew.”
“You are going to be your nephew’s wet nurse?” Bernard howled as Francois bent over with laughter.
Pierre ignored them.
“You will have to suckle him for the summer,” Bernard continued.
Pierre waved his hand in disgust. “Shut up.”
Francois made sucking noises. “Uncle Pierre, will you dress me?” he said in a childish voice.
Pierre slammed his hands on the table. “Shut up!” he roared. “The boy will be sixteen years old next month!”
The other two men stopped their laughter. They knew they had pushed as far as Pierre would allow. The next step would be a fist fight.
“Let me buy you a drink to celebrate you being hired,” Bernard said quickly. He beckoned the barmaid.
“Yes, congratulations,” Francois said.
Pierre settled down as Bernard pushed the newly delivered tankard towards him. “William made me swear that I would not say anything to anyone until after my nephew’s birthday party. It is supposed to be a surprise for him. So you guys keep your mouth shut. If this gets out I will know who is to blame.”
“I will not mention it,” Francois said.
“Me, neither,” Bernard said. “But what about us? I thought we were a team.”
“Yes, what about us? We have been waiting for you to make up your mind about what we are doing. Can you get us hired on with him?” Francois leaned forward eagerly.
“I do not want you guys coming with me,” Pierre grumbled.
“Aw, sure you do.”
“Yeah,” Francois grinned. “You know you cannot go west without us. Besides, who else is going to help you skim a few furs for yourself?”
Pierre thoughtfully took a sip of his beer. “I did not have a chance to mention you but I will.”
Bernard winked at Francois. “He will get us hired on, you wait and see.”
Chapter Five
Jeanne gingerly balanced the cake box as she walked along the sidewalk. She had just purchased the cake for Phillippe’s birthday party and did not want to drop it.
“Jeanne, wait up,” a male voice called.
Jeanne turned to see Florian hurrying towards her. She smiled at him. When he returned her smile with a lopsided grin, her heart leaped. It was that grin that she had loved about him when she was younger.
“Let me carry that,” Florian said taking the box from her arms.
“Be careful. It is a cake.”
“What is the occasion?” Florian fell into step beside her.
“I am on my way to meet Antoinette. We are going to my parent’s place to celebrate my cousin's birthday.”
“Will Andrew be going?”
“He is invited.” She did not say that he had refused.
Florian grinned. “May I invite myself?”
Jeanne did not like the way he was putting her on the spot. But she was not surprised. Florian knew she was seeing Andrew. He had made many jokes about wanting her to introduce the two of them, or that maybe he should challenge Andrew to a duel.
“You know you are welcome at our home anytime.” She would rather it was when the two of them could spend the time together, not when the house was full of other people.
“So you are not inviting me for today?” Florian put on a sad face.
Jeanne sighed. “Alright, you may come if you wish.” It was going to be awkward explaining his presence but there was nothing she could do. She would not put it past him to show up at the door acting all innocent if she refused.
Florian’s smile was one of triumph, which irritated Jeanne. He always seemed to be pushing her into doing things his way. It was like he was using her feelings for him in his favor.
“You do know that my Uncle Pierre will be there.”
“Ah, yes,” Florian said. “I sometimes forget that man is your uncle.”
“Well, he is and there is nothing I can do about it.” Jeanne knew of Pierre’s foul moods and that Florian and her uncle had come to blows a few times during the trade at Grande Portage. She also knew that some of the voyageurs refused to sign on with a merchant if Pierre was part of the brigade.
“You have to promise to be on your best behavior. You will be polite to everyone, including Uncle Pierre.”
“For you, I will do anything.”
Jeanne's heart gave a little flutter even as she doubted that he would keep his word.
“I will walk you to the merchant house.”
Jeanne did not know how to get out of that. “That is not necessary. I am almost there.”
“But it will be my pleasure. Plus, we are now going to the same place.”
She could not think of any way to refuse politely.
At the MacLeod Merchant House Florian held the box in one hand and pulled the door open for Jeanne with the other. Jeanne smiled when she saw Andrew behind the counter. He looked up and grinned. He seemed happy to see her until Florian entered. Then his welcoming look turned to one of confusion.
“Andrew, I would like you to meet Florian.” Jeanne wanted to explain everything to Andrew. “He is the brother of a friend of mine and I have known him since we were small.”
“Nice to meet you, Andrew.” Florian set the box on the counter and extended his hand. “Jeanne has told me much about you.”
“She has?” Andrew glanced at Jeanne as he shook Florian’s hand.
Jeanne blushed. She had said nothing to Florian about Andrew. He had only heard things through gossip. But she could not contradict him now.
“Yes. She said you were a brilliant man who had left the comforts of London to come to this dreary place to help your cousin. How commendable of you.”
“I did not say that,” Jeanne protested to Andrew. “He is making it up.”
Florian smiled. “Well, maybe I am. It is just that I do not understand how a man can leave his country to move to another. You must miss so much.”
Had Florian heard about Andrew's desire to return home? Was he playing on his unhappiness to make him want to leave Montreal?
“I am fine,” Andrew said.
Just then the door opened and Antoinette and William entered. They stared at Jeanne and Florian.
“I met Florian on the street and he graciously offered to carry the cake for me,” Jeanne said quickly.
“And Jeanne graciously invited me to Phillippe's birthday party,” Florian said.
“We must be going.” Jeanne had seen the look of shock on Andrew's face. She wanted to clear up the misunderstanding but at the same time, a thought crept into her mind. Maybe if Andrew thought he had a rival, he might take the next step in their relationship, maybe he would rethink his feeling for her and ask her to marry him.
Florian nodded at Andrew and William.
“Bye, Andrew, William,” Jeanne said as they left the building.
She, Antoinette, and Florian made small talk as they walked to her home. She knew Antoinette would have a lot of questions as soon as they were alone together.
* * *
It was mid-morning as Phillippe hurried excitedly through the melting snow. Today, March 27, 1766, was his sixteenth birthday and he was on his way to talk with William at his trading house. He and his parents had come in last evening and were staying at his aunt and uncles who were putting on a party to celebrate his birthday. He hoped that William would hire him so he could canoe west to see the trade with the Indians.
When he began mentioning that he wanted to be a voyageur two years ago his mother had told him that he was too young and too small. He knew what she said was true, but he kept thinking he would grow big and strong like his Uncle Pierre. He had grown taller but he had not grown as strong as he had wanted. He did not have the wide shoulders and large arms of the voyageur. Although
, at five foot, six inches, he was the required height.
Everyone knew his desire. He had talked about it incessantly for the past few months, hoping that his father or Antoinette would talk to William and hoping that William would invite him to paddle in one of his canoes. But his father only said he was needed on the farm and no one had said anything, so now he was doing it himself.
Phillippe had dressed in his best clothes not only to impress William but so he would be dressed for the party. He longed to have some news to tell everyone when he returned there.
He banged his boots against the wall of the trading house to get the snow and slush off them, then pushed open the door. He still tracked in some snow on the wooden floor, but he felt Antoinette would not be mad. After all, very few of the people who entered the building knocked the snow off their boots first in spite of Antoinette’s scolding.
William and Andrew sat behind the long counter. William was working on his books. Andrew was counting axes. They both looked up when Phillippe entered.
“Hello, William, Andrew,” Phillippe said, suddenly shy and scared. Always needed on the farm, he had never asked for a job before.
Andrew, wearing his three cornered beaver felt hat, nodded.
“Phillippe.” William put down his pen. “What brings you here?”
“I am sixteen today,” Phillippe began haltingly. “And I would like to sign up to paddle in one of your freight canoes.”
William was silent for a moment.
“I know I am not strong like my Uncle Pierre but I do work hard and I am willing to do anything.”
“What do your parents say?” William asked.
“I did not tell them I was coming here.”
“What will your father do for help on his farm?”
“Jean-Luc is eleven.” Phillippe said. “He is getting old enough to help.”
“Well, I will have to look at my list of men who have already signed up.” He rattled around some papers. “I think I have all that I need.”
Phillippe’s heart sank. He wanted to go so badly and he had hoped William would hire him. He was sure none of the other merchants would consider him because of his size. He turned to leave.
“I am sorry,” William said.
Phillippe barely heard him as he closed the door. He headed slowly back to Uncle Etienne’s home and the birthday party waiting for him. He did not feel like celebrating.
Chapter Six
Phillippe entered his aunt and uncle’s house. He took off his overcoat and hung it up. When he walked into the common room, it was crowded with family and friends. They all yelled `Happy Birthday’ at him.
“Where have you been?” Louis asked his son. “We have been waiting for you.”
Phillippe shrugged. “Just out.”
“Happy Birthday, my son,” Bridget, said, kissing him on the cheek. “Sit down so we can watch you open your presents.”
All the straight backed, upholstered chairs against the walls were occupied by family or friends. The one in the middle of the room was empty.
Phillippe sat down on that chair. A small table in front of it was laden with gifts and a few were piled on the floor. Some were wrapped in paper, others in cloth. As his family and friends watched closely Phillippe picked up his first present. It was from his mother and was wrapped in a bright yellow cloth. He began to unwrap but instead of finding something inside, it continued to unravel until it was one long narrow piece of yellow, woven cloth.
“A sash,” Phillippe said quietly. At one time he would have been happy to receive a sash to wrap around his waist like the voyageurs. But he was afraid that he was not going west as part of a brigade now.
The next gift, from Jean-Luc, was a red knitted cap. Trying to get into the spirit of the party and not hurt anyone’s feelings, Phillippe set it jauntily on his head amid laughter and applause. Indian leggings and moccasins from his Aunt Marie and Uncle Etienne, and a long red, woolen shirt from his cousin Jeanne. After that was another shirt in blue, more leggings and a second set of moccasins from friends.
Phillippe stared at the clothing on the table in front of him. Why had his family given him the dress of the voyageur? Had they decided to play into his dream by giving him clothes so that he could wear them and pretend he was a voyageur? Because after his visit to William he was sure he would not be hired by any merchant house. William had not said it but he was certain he had been turned down because of his stature.
Phillippe’s father handed a last gift. Phillippe took it carefully, recognizing it as the most treasured item of the voyageur, his tobacco pouch. This pouch was made of deerskin and was decorated in brightly colored beads. Inside, Phillippe found a pipe, some tobacco, and a striker, a scissor-like tool with a flint on one blade and a steel on the other. When rubbed together they produced sparks.
Phillippe sat the pouch on top of his clothes and wondered again why everyone had given him such gifts. He was not going anywhere west and he certainly could not wear these unless his was a voyageur.
“William and I…” Antoinette began.
“Well, Phillippe,” Pierre interrupted in his booming voice. “I guess it is turn for my gift. When I signed up with William, I put down your name, too. You will be going with me in the spring.”
Phillippe stared at his uncle with his mouth open. Had he heard right? Was he really going west into Indian Territory? Was he actually going to experience the voyageur’s life?
Amid cheers and back slapping, Phillippe ran over and hugged Pierre. Now he knew why he had been given these gifts. He would have to go back and thank William.
“And for your trip,” Ira Levington said. “I have made you these.” He handed Phillippe two bars of soap. “The men in the canoes do not bathe along the way and some do not wash until they return to Montreal. I wanted you to have the soap in case you wanted to clean up to visit a young maiden.”
The rest of the gathering laughed. It was a part of the voyageur’s life to meet Indian maidens and if they stayed over the winter, to take a wife.
“Are you still storing your ashes in your attic, Ira?” Bridget asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you not afraid of a live ember starting a fire?”
Everyone made their own soap from the ashes in their fireplaces. Sometimes there were live coals in the ashes when they were removed from the fireplace. Most people stirred the concoction of lye from the ashes, water, and fat in pots on the grates in their fireplaces or over fires in their back yards. What ashes they did not use they threw away.
It was well known that Ira Levington carried his ashes up to his attic to store until he made his soap. No one knew for what purpose. Every house had fires so there never was a shortage. There were rumors that his attic floor was covered with large mounds of old ashes.
“I have been saving my ashes and making soap for twenty-five years with no problems,” Ira said. “I am careful.”
“Try your clothes on,” Jeanne said to Phillippe. “Let us see if a young native girl will want to look at you.”
Phillippe hesitated.
“Go on,” Bridget said. “We want to see what all our work looks like.”
Phillippe grabbed his clothes and ran upstairs to the bedroom he was sharing with his brother. He removed his best shirt and hung it carefully over a chair. He put on the belt then donned the leggings. They reached from his ankles to just over his knees, covering the bottom of his breeches which ended below his knees. He tied the strings from the leggings to the belt.
Then he put on the red shirt leaving it outside his breeches so it fell below his hips. He wrapped the yellow sash around his waist and slipped his feet into a pair of moccasins. He put his head and one arm through the strap of his tobacco pouch so it hung to the side of his body at his waist. Some men wore their pouches around their waist and others around their neck but his Uncle Pierre liked his off to one side.
“This way it will not interfere with my sash and I do not have to worry about someone p
ulling at it and choking me.” Pierre had said one day. Phillippe remembered those words and now lived by them.
He checked on the sleeping Marguerite in the next room, then descended the stairs. He swaggered into the common room trying to imitate the motions of the men he had watched as they walked through the adoring crowds to their canoes on departure day. Everyone applauded his efforts.
Bridget and Marie set out food on the table for the lunch.
“Come and eat,” Bridget called out, as she put the cutlery beside the plates.
There were too many to sit at the table so everyone crowded around the table helping themselves to tortierre, roast beef, fish, and cheese. Fresh bread had been cut into chunks to be dunked in the large earthen crock of milk in the center of the table. They stood in groups talking as they ate.
* * *
“Why did you invite Florian?” Antoinette whispered as they stood in a corner with their plates.
“I did not invite him.” Antoinette looked over to where Florian was speaking with her father. “He invited himself and I could figure no way out of saying yes.”
“It is a good thing Andrew did not come.”
“Yes, but it is too bad that William and Andrew do not feel comfortable coming to family gatherings anymore when Uncle Pierre is going to be here,” Jeanne said wistfully.
“Yes. Uncle Pierre will not quit making fun of Andrew’s hat and William is tired of Pierre’s anger against him for being English.” She put her hand on Jeanne’s arm. “I am sorry because I know how you feel about Andrew.”
Jeanne nodded. “I had hoped that he cared enough about me to ignore Uncle Pierre and his taunts.” She and Antoinette had discussed her fears that Andrew would be true to his word and go back to England next year. He had taken only her on one ride and one walk since her parent’s anniversary. She had felt a little better when Antoinette said he and William were very busy getting ready for the fur trade season and that she herself hardly saw much of William.
West to Grande Portage Page 4
