by Sandra Clark
'Yes, I can understand that—the feeling of challenge,' she said quietly. The thought flashed through her mind that perhaps she too, in some small way, had been fired by a similar spirit of adventure when she had agreed to take on Derek's assignment. There was a moment's pause in the warm, smoke-filled room.
'It's a lucky man,' said Mac, breaking the silence, 'who can find a woman who understands.' He changed his position on the sofa and sighed. 'Not everybody comes out here solely for the adventure of it…' He seemed to search for words.
'It's a small community,' broke in Mrs Mac impatiently. 'What Mac is really trying to say is that we know the Eskimos. We know them all by name. We know who's who, and they know us. It's like one big happy family. But sometimes a stranger comes to the area, and he keeps himself to himself. He makes no attempt to get to know anybody. He doesn't let anybody get to know him. Nobody knows where he comes from, why he's here, and he gives no explanation.' She too let her words tail off. She looked closely at Belinda to see if she was getting the drift.
'You mean there may be something such a man doesn't want anyone to know? Something he'd prefer to keep secret?' Belinda sat looking into the fire for a moment or two. When she looked up her eyes were perplexed. 'This is really about the man Chuck mentioned, I suppose?'
'He's a loner,' said Mrs Mac.
'Nothing wrong in that,' broke in her husband. 'But there have been stories. All we can do is warn you.'
'He might have done anything,' added Mrs Mac.
'But surely the Mounted Police patrol the region?' asked Belinda in surprise. 'They would know if a man had a record.'
'They can only check out bona fide suspects. And besides, there's nothing to stop a man changing his name. Look,' said Mac on a new note, 'I'm the last person to go spreading rumours about a man. He's hardworking, brings in some good furs when he needs to trade. Most of the lime he's out living native in the Devil's Gate area. He might be able to help you if you can catch up with him. He never stays around here for long. But as Chuck says,' he shrugged, 'I can only advise you to be careful.'
'But if he knows these people I'm supposed to be tracking down, he could take me straight to them, couldn't he?' persisted Belinda.
'They're nomads, they're on the move all the time. Whatever you find out, you're going to have to cover some distance in your search. There are better and trusted native guides on the settlement who would be able to take you wherever you need to go.' Mac settled himself with an air of finality in the sofa. 'You've plenty of other avenues to explore at this stage of the game,' he told her severely, sensing rebellion in her face. 'One thing you'll learn if you stay here long is that everything has its own time. Be patient. If you're meant to meet up with the Nasaq, they'll show. You wait and see.'
Mrs Mac leaned forward. 'It'll be ship-time early next week,' she told the troubled girl. 'Then you'll get a chance to meet the local tribes who work the northern regions. They'll all come into the settlement to trade. They won't hang around long after the ship leaves. But they always come in for ship-time to trade their deerskins and pick up supplies for the winter.'
'I've already put the word out that there's someone here wanting to meet the Nasaq. It'll get back to them, don't ask me how, and if they're willing to co-operate you'll hear from them one way or another.'
'Perhaps the Nasaq themselves will come too?' asked Belinda tentatively, but her hopes were dashed at once, for Mac shook his head.
'Not a hope, I'm afraid to say. I've told you, they're wary types, keep themselves strictly to themselves. They live well enough in the old way. This is rich caribou country. What do they need with us?'
'I expect one could live quite well off the land,' surmised Belinda. 'There are so many lakes and rivers here it must be simple enough to find food.'
Mac shook his head, smiling. 'That's another greenhorn remark,' he told her, not unkindly. 'Every lake is packed with trout. It's a fisherman's delight. But the Eskimo won't touch them unless they're on the brink of starvation. They eat caribou, caribou and more caribou. Straight uncooked meat.'
Belinda turned her nose up. 'Yes, I remember that. It's where the word Eskimo comes from, isn't it? It's Indian for "eater of raw meat". I can't say I fancy it.'
'It's an acquired taste,' said Mac, his eyes twinkling again. 'We'd have gone bust as a trading station if we'd tried to set up a store, selling, instead of buying. Isn't that so, love?' He turned to his wife. 'If there's caribou they'll touch nothing else. You can see the sense of it when you think that by the time they're beginning to look round for something to supplement their stocks the lake is frozen six feet thick. It's just not worth the effort of breaking up the ice. You'd need a jigger to get through so as to set your nets, and they haven't the patience for that. Though of course they'll sit for hours on the ice above the blow hole of a seal, waiting for it to come up for air.'
Belinda was beginning to yawn. It had been a long day.
'This girl's sleepy,' said Mrs Mac sympathetically. 'Let her come up and have a look at her room. You bring the bags up, will you, Mac?'
He got up without demur. As he did so he shot a glance at her pink jacket hanging on the back of the door.
'You'll have to get something a bit more serviceable than that,' he told her bluntly, and she coloured, remembering the tones of the stranger who had spoken so disparagingly to her when she first arrived.
When the bags had been brought upstairs and Mac had returned to his position on the sofa downstairs, Mrs Mac showed Belinda her room, and the bathroom across the landing. 'Don't be put off by Mac,' she said, turning to the girl. 'He's a bit tactless sometimes. It's a very pretty jacket.'
'Yes, but I suppose I can see what he means,' answered Belinda without rancour. 'It was cold enough coming out in the plane. If I'm going to be travelling overland, I shall certainly need something a little bit more practical.'
'Don't give it a second's thought,' answered the older woman easily. 'I'm sure we can find you something nice in the store. You don't have to stump around looking like the wild man from the north merely in order to keep the frostbite at bay.' She turned to go. 'When the freeze-up comes you'll really know what cold is, and then you'll be glad to go native.'
Belinda sank wearily down on to the freshly made-up bed when the door closed. She was feeling shattered by the sudden changes which had taken place since that morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago. For the first time since taking on this piece of research she was alone with the responsibility. She was determined to make a good job of it. But it looked as if it was going to be trickier than she had at first thought. Carefully she unpacked her tape recorder and notebooks and arrayed them neatly on the little pine table Mrs Mac had provided.
She was ready to drop into bed and let the luxury of a good night's sleep wash over her. But first she lay there with her eyes open listening to the unaccustomed sounds outside and thinking over the day's events. It had been a day filled with kindness from everyone she had met.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled slightly. Perhaps not everyone. There had been that trivial incident on the runway.
She sighed. Silly to let one small encounter spoil the memory of a pleasant day. She turned over and closed her eyes. Tomorrow she would get to know the Eskimos on the settlement, maybe do a little exploring on her own and pick up what information she could about the Nasaq. It was disappointing that she was going to have to wait until news filtered in about her quarry. Perhaps a way round that would present itself.
Again she felt a slight touch of something like fear, and impatiently she changed sides.
By hook or by crook she would persuade someone to take her to where the Nasaq were encamped. She would meet them and make her recordings of their almost lost language. Derek would be glowingly proud of her. They would become friends after all this overheated emotion had burned itself out. She would make her own small contribution to the world of scholarship and everything would be wonderful again. The sorrow of her parents' deat
hs still hung over her like a pall, but she clenched her fists under the duvet. Nothing was going to stop her winning through.
The last sound she heard as she at last drifted into sleep was the lonely howling of a north wind that had sprung up from across the lake. If she had got up and walked down that way she would have seen the lake covered with white caps and streamers of spume, whipped to an icy froth by the increasing violence of the wind. But she was asleep with her dreams of the morrow.
CHAPTER TWO
Belinda woke in the early hours of the morning to the sound of torrential rain lashing against the bedroom window. She thought about those people who were living out on the tundra and how they must feel to be listening to such rain and wind without the protection of a proper roof above their heads, and she got to wondering how anybody could willingly choose to live like that. She lay there for some time, drifting between waking and sleeping, until the smell of bacon and eggs and freshly-ground coffee brought her fully awake.
The rain was still beating on the window panes as she washed and dressed, and it gave no sign of letting up. She had a quick look through her clothes and plumped for a pair of smart cord pants, a T-shirt, and a big sloppy blue sweater to top it all. If she had to venture out of doors— and she peeped out between the curtains to stare in amazement at the quagmire on what had been yesterday's landing pad for Chuck's Anson—she could always put on the smart waterproofs she had brought to wear in the city. They were light, but in this, anything was better than nothing. She gave her shoulder-length blonde hair a good brushing. If Mrs Mac's promise to find her some more suitable clothes held good, she would be quite happy to go native in matters of dress. Any kind of serviceable gear would do in this place. It wouldn't matter what she looked like just so long as they kept her warm and dry.
Snapping a band casually round her hair, she went across the polished timber floor to the hall. Mrs Mac greeted her warmly. 'See what you make of that,' she said, placing a plateful of bacon, eggs and tomato in front of her.
'I met the man you mentioned in Toronto,' said Belinda as she ate. 'He's quite an authority on linguistics.'
'I never heard him speak a word of Eskimo all the time he was on the settlement—' Mrs Mac paused, 'though I daresay he knew a lot about the language.'
Belinda looked across at Mrs Mac and they both laughed. 'Oh well,' said the girl, 'I suppose I shall be in the same position. It's far too short a time to get even a basic grasp, but I expect I'll get a chance to pick up the odd word here and there. All I'm expected to do at this stage is collect some recordings of ordinary conversations about everyday things. I hope you'll be able to introduce me to a guide who can also speak some English.'
Mrs Mac nodded. 'No problem there. Just so long as you can be patient. The best man is Taqaq, but Mac won't be able to spare him until after ship-day.'
Half an hour later, having demolished rather more than she expected, Belinda had helped clear the breakfast things and was now standing at the window of the sitting room looking out at the still pouring rain.
Mac, with oilskins over his parka, and wearing heavy-duty sea-boots, had disappeared in the direction of the big store shed, and Belinda had watched several figures go in after him. Obviously some of his regular workers at the settlement were busy in there. He had told her that he employed one man, an Eskimo, on a full-time basis, and the man and his wife and children lived in one of the houses clustered with the others farther up the track. But just before ship-time other families would straggle in from outlying areas and with the men from the families living in the settlement houses, would make up a reliable work force. They had to prepare the big store shed to receiver good six months' supplies when the ship came in, and of course, everything had to be stored systematically so that the more perishable goods could be got out first.
He suggested that if the rain let up a bit she could come round the settlement with him later that morning and meet some of the families living there. One never knew, but someone might just happen to know of the present whereabouts of the Nasaq. There was always somebody with a brother or a distant relative of some kind, a cousin or a seal-partner, who had picked up some piece of news from somewhere. 'They're very sociable people,' he told her with a smile. 'It wouldn't surprise me if the Nasaq already know about you.' Belinda had no chance to ask him what this mysterious expression seal-partner meant, for he was off then, stamping through the puddles across to the store shed.
The rain showed no sign of letting up. It was as persistent as ever. Mrs Mac was busy going through the mail Chuck had brought in with him the previous day and she promised to take Belinda down to show her off to everyone later. Already there seemed to be a scurry of figures heading into the building, and Mrs Mac explained that there was a large room at the end which was used by the natives for communal activities, a sort of clubhouse, much used by the youths in the long winter nights when the freezing weather filled the settlement with people and activity. News of her arrival had already brought quite a crowd into the room and when the hall door opened briefly there was a babble of women's voices and much laughter.
'I don't think we'll wait for Mac,' said Mrs Mac. 'Come down now. We'll make our introductions right away.'
When they went into the room, it was packed with people. Mainly women and children, they sat cross-legged on the floor or squashed up on benches along the wall. Everyone was talking and laughing. The air was steamy as their rain-sodden furs began to dry out in the heat from the stove.
It seemed to be the custom to shake hands with everyone on first meeting, even with the littlest child, and one by one they filed in front of Belinda, hands outstretched, tiny tots being lifted up by their mothers.
Belinda felt quite dazed by the end of the session, as Mrs Mac had told her the name of each person as they touched hands. Just as these introductions were coming to an end some of the men from the store came in. Briefly Belinda's eyes travelled over them—five men, all Eskimo. She didn't understand the feeling that suddenly swept over her, as if some expectation had in some way been crushed. But she didn't have time to dwell on this for long because the whole process started up again. She must have met everybody in the settlement that evening.
Much later, during what Mac called 'mug-up time', Mrs Mac brought up the subject of getting Belinda kitted out in some rough-weather wear. 'I should let her try those caribou skins that were brought in last season from Intuq's lot.'
A look flashed between them. It was something which did not escape Belinda's notice.
The interior of the store was cool and rather dark, Belinda found next day when she followed Mac through the big wooden doors. She threw back the hood of her turquoise waterproof to get a better look at the place. It seemed to be a typical general store with a long wooden counter stretching round two walls, separated from the shelves by a couple of feet, just enough to allow Mac and one of his assistants to get by. Everything looked very neat and orderly, pans and cooking utensils hanging from hooks in the ceiling, and a variety of tinned and dehydrated provisions arranged on the shelves. Some of the men were working on the far side, shifting boxes and generally clearing up.
There was a lot of empty space now and Mac explained how they would have to estimate their needs months in advance. Ammunition, traps, all the essentials for the traditional Eskimo way of life were featured, as well as the more ordinary needs like flour, sugar and tea. 'It's not exactly up to city supermarket standards, is it?' smiled Mac, 'but then we don't cater for the casual shopper. We're a trading post, not a corner shop, and we're only set up to handle the basics for survival.'
Just then the door opened and a tall, fur-clad figure came in. He noticed Belinda at once, but he didn't bother to acknowledge the fact. Instead, he seemed more interested in the quality of some traps over on the opposite side of the store, and kept his head down busily. Belinda too turned her back. He was the last person she wanted to cross swords with at the moment. She felt distinctly uncomfortable.
Mac was sp
eaking to the men and Belinda heard one of them say 'Nasaq', after which there was a general shaking of heads. The effect on the newcomer was startling, though. His head jerked up, then he shot a strange look at Belinda. When she caught his glance he raised an eyebrow sardonically. Blushing furiously, she turned away and pretended to be inspecting some of the furs on one of the shelves. At that point Mac came back to her. 'No luck, I'm afraid,' he told her in English. 'They seem to have gone to ground somewhere north of Hell's Gate. Nobody seems to know much.'
Belinda tried to turn the conversation at once to the question of which furs she could try. That man was unashamedly listening to everything Mac was saying. How dared he eavesdrop on a private conversation? thought Belinda in a fury, what confounded cheek! And so blatant too! Now he was moving over to the men. As he approached Belinda could not help noticing how they all fell silent and one or two stepped back slightly as if getting ready for something. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him talking to them, fast and fluently, but even if she had been able to hear what he said, she wouldn't have been able to understand it. The men shook their heads again, and one of them looked over to where Belinda and Mac were standing. Abruptly she turned to the furs and selecting one at random held it up for Mac's approval.
'Too small,' said Mac at once. 'Here, let me find you something.'
