by Ken Busato
Chapter 24
For the Highlander, the task of settling should be a simple enough thing to do. Once you have your plot of land, you ready your axe and cut down logs to make a dwelling. Children explore the land. They pick the flowers, sample some of the native fruit, and chase the wild animals like gophers and grouse. Women ready the kitchen, making sure all are fed and contented. To the Highlander, sturdy of arm and mind, settling is as natural as light mist on a cool Scottish morning.
As we disembarked from our York boats for the final time, I could feel this confidence in Highland strength quickly fade. The moment was emotional for all, from relief to sadness. We had finally made it, but at a tremendous cost. The voyage over the ocean was wretched, the winter at the Nelson Encampment was cold and dreary, and the last fifty days spent on the river was a constant hardship of rowing and portages. As the men dragged the boat through the shallow water, the toll of so many months was obvious. I could not see the pain I felt in my father’s eyes.
“I could kiss the ground,” Papa said to me as we pulled the boat to the shore.
“Are you that happy to be here?” I said to him rather coldly.
“Molly, we all made it. We’ve been to hell and back and we are finally here. Maybe I should forget about the ground and just kiss you instead.”
Papa let go of the boat, picked me up and twirled me around so fast I started to get dizzy. We were still in a bit of water, so as I kicked my feet I started to splash those around me. “Oh Papa,” I giggled, “Stop it. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“Molly, no matter how old you are, you will always be my little lass. I know you are growing up. I see the way Mr. Cooper looks and talks to you. Don’t worry, he’s a good lad as far as I can tell. I won’t cause any trouble.”
“Papa, I …”
“Now, now, let’s start unloading what we have here and find out from Mr. MacDonnell where we are going to set up camp.”
We cleared the York boat completely and pitched our tents on the east side of the river. There were no dwellings set up for our arrival, no people here to welcome us with song and good cheer. On the opposite side of the river, however, was a trading post of the North West Company called Fort Gibraltar. The men on that side of the river were not happy about our arrival. I remember that time in Stornoway when we were warned about what the response to our presence would be. Soon, we will find out if we will be welcomed as neighbours or shunned as intruders...