by Ken Busato
Our home was completely destroyed, and we’ve had to camp close to Fort Douglas, close to the storehouse of weapons collected for protection. We came back with little attention drawn to us. As far as most are concerned, we are nothing but a few insects to be brushed aside with a wave of the hand. The men who forced us out have left, for now.
It did not feel strange coming back. The travel in this country, although intolerable, has become all too normal, part of the seasonal routine. Walk, paddle, walk, paddle… forced to always leave, never to stay…
After one week back at the forks, the new group of settlers with Governor Semple arrived. I’ve seen the look before. The men appear ready but unsure, and the women seem filled with regret, unable to turn back the clock. The children run around as if they’ve arrived home. I look at them as I would look into a mirror, a cracked, distorted mirror.
It did not take long for our new Governor to assert his authority over the region. It was a bright sunny day when we were all assembled outside of Fort Douglas, new and old settler alike. This event, once again, I’ve seen before, only with different names and different faces. The intent is always the same: a new start in this land that for us is no longer new. A new flag made its way up the flagstaff, as Governor Semple spoke.
“All citizens gathered here, let me officially recognize this land grant of Lord Selkirk’s. For those of you who have just arrived with me, your long voyage across the ocean, and journey through the lakes and rivers of this great land have not been in vain, as you well know. You have endured long travel and portages, and now you can put up roots and claim the land granted to you.”
“For those of you who have spent time in this country, let me assure you no harm will come to you under my leadership. I am a retired officer from the British Army, and I know what it will take to both make the peace and keep the peace. You need not fear the men who inhabit Fort Gibraltar across the river. In due time, they will be dealt with in the correct way.”
Standing beside me, George whispered, “I wonder what he means by deal with in the correct way?”
“Maybe he wants to take the fight to them,” I offered.
“Before I continue further,” Semple continued, “I think it right a prayer be said by Minister Sutherland. Good Christian faith will be brought to the frontier. Mr. Sutherland, please, a prayer for this fine occasion.”
“Quite right,” Mr. Sutherland replied. “Dear Lord, we thank you for this beautiful day in this beautiful land. We count ourselves as blessed, those who have gathered here under tremendous strain and hardship. As we continue, Heavenly Father, grant each and every one of us the courage to stay true to your words and teachings. Continue to help Governor Semple, as he guides your flock of settlers in this western land. Help those who may oppose our presence here understand all we want is to live in peace. For this and all the blessings you can bestow, we pray in Jesus’ name, Amen.”
“Amen,” came the murmur from all of those assembled. It certainly felt good to hear an ordained minister pray. Too long have we missed the softness of God’s word.
“Thank you Mr. Sutherland for your prayer,” Governor Semple said. “And now, it’s time to show what sturdy folk you are. The soil needs to be tended to, and the buildings for the winter must be finished in quick order.”
“Excuse me Governor,” my uncle started. “How exactly do you intend to deal with those folks who inhabit the fort across the river?”
“My good man,” Semple replied, clearly annoyed. “In time, the situation will be dealt with. Leave matters of a military nature to men who have knowledge of such things.”
Colin Robertson, standing beside our new governor to show his support, started to shake his head for fear of what Willie might say. “Kind Governor,” Willie responded, “Perhaps you would care to know a little about what has happened here. I may not have your great knowledge and understanding, but I do know a thing or two about men intent on violence and destruction. I know you are a military man, but there are some things I am sure even your books cannot teach you. I would be more than happy to take you around and introduce you to all the interesting people I have met here.”
“Young man, what is your name?” Governor Semple demanded.
“William Fraser of Argyll,” Willie responded as he spat at the ground where he stood. “I beg your pardon, but I did not prepare myself for this grand festival with the right amount of drink. Next time, I’ll remember to finish the full bottle before I hear what you have to say.”
Governor Semple’s next response was quite surprising. Normally, Willie has the ability to turn people against him, but all Semple could do was to look at him and start laughing. It was not the response my uncle was used to receiving. “Well William Fraser, I may have to take you up on that offer. I’m thinking a promotion might be in order for you as well. You know, I write a little and I also read a little to. All heroes in the great books have someone with them, a person who tells the truth when no one else will. That person is usually the fool. Would you be so kind as to be my fool, young William of Argyll?”
“He can be your horse’s ass too,” Papa yelled out, trying to help lighten the mood.
“Yes, that would also be fine,” Governor Semple replied. “Seriously now, Mr. Robertson has told me all about the trouble the early colonists faced. Certainly, there is much that I still need to learn, and in the upcoming days and weeks, I hope to find out as much as I can to make this a prosperous and successful colony. I have an idea about those who inhabit Fort Gibraltar across the river. Rest assured in good order those men will be dealt with.”
What else could we do but trust him. He seems smart, a man of wisdom and experience. Perhaps he will do what our first Governor, Miles MacDonell, was unable to do: give us the chance to build a home, a life, making for poor Scottish crofters a Canadian Highland.