“Quickly! Climb in now!”
With his final ounce of strength, Jamie managed to pull himself up over the side of the boat and collapse onto its bottom. Colin threw himself into Jamie’s shivering arms. Looking up into the early-morning sun, Jamie could only make out the silhouette of his rescuer against the rising sun. She was paddling hard for shore.
“I don’t know who you are,” Jamie sputtered, “but thank you.”
He then collapsed on his side and passed out.
Chapter 7
Jamie groaned as his tired mind tried to figure out why he was lying inside a giant wasp nest. His confused thoughts began to settle and he came to realize that he was in an enormous wooden structure, a building unlike any he had ever seen before. The building itself was the shape of a long cylinder cut through its length and then laid on its side. The roof was wooden, no … not wood, but made of strips of bark! At either end of the building were small rectangular doors. Unused fire pits were lined along the centre of its length on the dirt floor. The large building was completely deserted.
Jamie himself felt as if he were wrapped in a luxurious cocoon. Extending his arms, he realized that he had been wrapped in a soft pile of furs. His body lay on a bench that stretched along the entire length of the building. Jamie suddenly panicked when he couldn’t see Colin, but then he heard a shuffling sound beneath him. Peering over the edge, he was relieved to see the boy snuggled in another bundle of furs on a lower bench, still sound asleep. Jamie moved his aching body into an upright position. Next to him on the bench, a large wooden bowl held a selection of ripe berries, vegetables, nuts, and dried fish. Starving, Jamie gratefully dug into the food, being careful to leave enough for the sleeping boy.
He decided to try out his stiff legs. Getting his bearings, he quietly made his way to the nearest doorway and looked out into a sea of green. He had never seen such a beautiful, rich forest before, as the English had cut down almost all of Ireland’s once legendary forests to build their ever-growing navy of ships. It was as if he had woken up and was still living inside a beautiful dream. He glanced up to get an idea of the time, but the canopy was so thick, he couldn’t judge the angle of the sun.
Where was he? He started to look for other clues. There must be a connection between the woman who had rescued him and this structure. According to the books he’d read back on the Independence, this building was somewhat similar to the bark-covered wigwams that were used by Native people in the eastern part of Canada, but wigwams, he thought, were supposed to be much smaller and dome-shaped. Therefore, it seemed logical that if he had been helped by a Native woman, she was not of the Algonquin or Mikma’q Nations that were supposed to inhabit this part of Canada East. And why was this structure completely abandoned? Surely its size could shelter up to fifty families. Why was it not being used?
Perhaps some answers could be found at the other entranceway. Jamie went outside and circled his way around the entire length of the building, admiring its efficient construction, which used only the materials of the forest. When Jamie turned the far corner of the building, he walked right into a woman coming around the corner in the other direction. Jamie tried to spin away to minimize the impact, but he ended up only spiralling himself into a heap on the ground. The surprised woman put her hands on her hips and stared at him.
“Are you still suffering from your swim across the river?” she asked, in French.
Jamie sat up in the dirt and grinned. “Wasn’t expecting to see you so soon, or so close.”
“Grab my hand,” she offered.
Jamie took her hand, and she easily pulled him off the ground. He was sure it was the same woman who had rescued them from the river. Perhaps a couple of years older than Jamie, she was tall and lean, wearing a cotton blouse buttoned up to her neck and a full length skirt. Her ebony eyes shone with a combination of amusement and concern.
“Thank you for rescuing me and the boy. We owe you our lives.”
“I’m surprised you look so healthy.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Jamie.
“I assume you were escaping from Grosse Isle. Either that, or you were planning on harvesting some wild rice.”
“Those were rice plants I was swimming through?”
“I’m not sure I would call what you were doing swimming, but yes, those were rice plants. I was out on the river early harvesting rice for my village.”
“What village?” Jamie asked, looking first at the building and then out at the surrounding forest.
She laughed. “This is not my village. My village is down that path. We only use the longhouse for traditional ceremonies. I’m by myself because the rest of my village refuses to see you, afraid that you carry the diseases that have ravaged our land. A dozen people in my village have already died from the scourge, including two of our elders.”
“I’m sorry,” replied Jamie. “I can promise you that the boy and I are healthy. If you knew about the diseases on Grosse Isle, then why did you help us?”
She laughed. “Anyone who could paddle across the St. Lawrence River in a sinking coffin could not be that sick. Say, you speak French very well for an Irish boy. How is that possible?”
“I spent two years studying in France.” Jamie tilted his head and eyed her curiously. “This is my first time in Canada so forgive my ignorance but you are not of Algonquin descent, are you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Just from what I read about this country.” He pointed to the structure behind him. “And the fact you called this structure a longhouse and not a wigwam.”
She nodded, impressed. “I’m Wendat.”
“Wendat?”
“The name of my nation,” she explained. “And my name is Tutuyak Lapointe.”
Jamie smiled. “I’m Jamie Galway and my little companion over there is Colin O’Connor. I don’t recall seeing the name Wendat on any of my aboriginal maps of Canada.”
She shrugged. “It’s because of our history. Our nation was pretty much wiped off the maps in the seventeenth century. My descendants are survivors from a war that took place in a land far away from here. I’m named after a great warrior who helped lead our people to the safety of this new land. Have you come to start a new life in our land as well?”
“Actually, I wasn’t supposed to be here in Canada at all.” Then Jamie explained to her that he was here to find his brother.
Tutuyak frowned when she heard the tale of Ryan’s plight. “I understand the bond of family. You need to get to Montreal as soon as possible. The longer you wait, the harder it will be for you to find Ryan.”
“Unfortunately, we lost everything in the coffin, except a little bit of money and a letter I had stored in my pocket.”
“Why are you taking the boy with you to Montreal?”
Jamie looked towards the longhouse. “Actually, he was never part of my original plan. I witnessed his entire family die on the ship. He was healthy, but the doctor still placed him in quarantine. I couldn’t leave him alone in that cesspool of disease over on Grosse Isle. I didn’t know what else to do, so I brought him along.”
“And you didn’t know him before the voyage?”
“I had never seen him before in my life.”
She stared at him. “You look like the other settlers, but there is something about you that is very different.”
He smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You are wrong about your young friend. He is not healthy. He is sick.”
“He is?” asked Jamie, alarmed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. He is sick, but not with the pestilence that is sweeping through our two peoples. He has the ailment your people contract when they do not eat properly on a long voyage across the sea. Your people call it scurvy. I brought something to help him regain his strength.”
She held up a small earthenware jug and led him into the longhouse. She reached over to a table, took a cup, and poured out a small amount of sticky brown liqu
id. She passed the cup to Jamie.
“You should have some as well.”
He looked at the drink, took a sniff, then sipped it. It was thick, but it was possibly the sweetest, most delicious liquid to ever cross the tip of his tongue.
“It’s wonderful! What is it?”
“It’s a syrup my people make from the sap of the maple tree. When the boy drinks this, his spirit will once again grow strong.”
He held out a hand towards the doorway of the longhouse. “Then I think it’s time to wake up Colin.”
They strode down the corridor of the longhouse and upon reaching the young boy, Jamie sat down next to him.
“Hey, lad. It’s time to wake up.”
“Jamie?” asked Colin, rubbing his eyes. “Where are we?”
“With a friend, and she has a special drink for you. It tastes like candy.”
Colin had only had candy once before in his life, on a Christmas Day long ago. “Really? Candy?”
Jamie then noticed his gums were inflamed and a small sore was forming in his mouth. Tutuyak was right. He did have scurvy.
“Yes, delicious candy. Now sit up. Our friend Tutuyak has made it for you.”
Tutuyak sat down on the other side of the boy and poured some more of the brown syrup into the cup. She passed it to Colin and he took a small sip. They both grinned when the boy’s face lit up.
“Can I have more, please?”
Tutuyak nodded. Jamie rustled his hair. “Sure you can. But finish what you have first.”
Colin happily sipped away on the syrup, using his tongue to get at every last drop.
“Thank you,” he said as he passed the cup back to Tutuyak.
“De rien,” she replied.
Colin looked to Jamie in confusion.
“She speaks only French,” he explained.
Colin looked around at the strange building, then back to Tutuyak, noticing her dark complexion. “Where are we?”
“This is a building of Tutuyak’s ancestors. She is Wendat, a Native person of this land.”
Colin was staring at the pretty dark-haired woman next to him and was about to ask another question, but he hesitated, looked down at his delicious drink, and then back to his friends. His face scrunched up.
“Did we die and go to heaven?”
Jamie looked at Tutuyak, translated, and they laughed as Colin took another sip of syrup.
Chapter 8
Jamie luxuriated in his cozy cocoon of warm animal skins, but he simply couldn’t fall asleep. Colin was curled up at his feet and covered as well in warm skins to help keep away the cool night air. Jamie was no longer worried about the young boy’s health. Colin was already showing more curiosity and energy earlier in the evening as he explored the interior of the longhouse. Tutuyak’s delicious syrup had done its job and brought Colin back to good health.
It was Ryan who weighed heavily on his racing thoughts. Was his brother hurt or sick? Did he still have the text? Had he died in the crossing? All the answers lay far away in a town named Montreal. He still had no clue as to the location of Tutuyak’s village in relation to the rest of Canada East, the part of Canada that contained the cities of Quebec and Montreal. All of his maps had gone down with the coffin to the bottom of the St. Lawrence River. He fought the panic of being lost in an endless foreign land and trusted that both God and his newfound friend would help him find direction once again.
Finally, the sun lit up the early morning mist. Jamie jumped when he suddenly heard a loud snort come from just outside the doorway. Could it be a bear or moose prowling outside the longhouse? He had yet to see such creatures first-hand, but did not doubt the tales of their dangerous nature. He grabbed a long wooden pole from the floor and warily approached the doorframe. As he peeked outside, a large, flaring nostril sprayed him with a cloud of steam. Jamie jumped in surprise and banged his head on the frame of the door.
Tutuyak laughed. “Be careful. Your hard head might break our longhouse.”
Jamie rubbed his head and smiled back at Tutuyak, mounted high up on a horse. “I think my head is going to break long before your longhouse.”
Tutuyak was straddling a beautiful brown and white stallion. Its dark chestnut eyes stared at Jamie suspiciously. He stomped his hoof, and Tutuyak pulled back on the reins.
“Steady, Dreamer,” she cooed. “Don’t worry. He’s a friend.”
“You talk to your horse?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
Jamie scratched his head. “Actually, I’ve never had the chance to get to know a horse before. Where I come from, only the wealthy can afford them. But yours is the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen. Do all women in Canada ride a horse like you?”
Tutuyak was straddling her horse wearing a pair of woollen pants, riding boots, and a loose cotton blouse. “I don’t know about others, but this is the way I ride them. Why do you ask?”
“Because the women I’ve seen riding horses in Ireland wear skirts and ride side-saddle, with both legs on one side of the horse.”
“As I see them riding in your towns down by the river,” she said, understanding. “Then your women don’t know how to ride a horse properly. How could you possibly gallop side-saddle?”
Jamie smiled. “That’s a good point. Should I go wake up Colin?”
She nodded. “I have permission from the elders to take you to Quebec City. It is a day’s ride from here. That is the best place to go if you and Colin want to get to Montreal as quickly as possible.”
“We’ll do our best to keep up with you and your horse,” answered Jamie, hoping that Colin would be up for walking such a long distance.
Tutuyak smiled and put two fingers in her mouth. She blasted out a short whistle. A muscular mare with a flaming auburn coat, saddled and ready to go, trotted around the corner of the longhouse and pulled up next to Dreamer..
Jamie was awed. “How did you do that?”
“I train them. It’s part of what I do for my village.”
“A woman of many talents,” he said. “Very impressive. And what’s her name?”
“Falcon.”
Jamie eyed the horse. “Falcon, eh? Does she eat meat? Should I keep my distance?”
She sadly shook her head. “And I thought you were a well-educated boy. She’s named Falcon because of her speed.”
“That’s good to know.” He smiled as he walked up to the horse and let her sniff his hand. “So Falcon, do you really like to fly? Well, please take it easy on me. We Irish break easily.”
Tutuyak threw back her long hair. “We’d better go.”
Jamie grinned with excitement. “I’ll go get Colin.”
The village of Wendake, Tutuyak’s village, looked quite different from the Irish sod and thatch-roofed homes with which Jamie was familiar. Most of these buildings were either built of log or clapboard. Jamie assumed that so many houses were made of sturdy wood because of the fact that Canada was brimming with huge forests. With their Irish forests already plundered, the peasants of Ireland did not have the luxury of lumber and had to build their homes from the only materials that they could find: sod from the peat bogs for the walls and the fields of hay for the thatched roof.
Tutuyak kept Colin in her lap while Jamie trotted close behind on Falcon. Wendake, she explained, was named after Tutuyak’s ancestral land that once stood on the shores of Georgian Bay in Canada West. Those who were out chopping logs or tending to the plots of vegetables behind their homes looked up and smiled at her as she passed, some even shared a comment or two with her in a language Jamie did not understand. Those, however, who glanced at Jamie, eyed him with silent suspicion. He couldn’t blame them. Hadn’t he eyed the English back in Ireland with the same prejudiced stare? European strangers had taken their land and inflicted them with disease. It was Ireland all over again, wasn’t it? What other welcome could he possibly expect? All he could do was nod a humble thank-you in French.
Soon, they left the village and trees once again curtain
ed the sky above the dirt road. Tutuyak leaned forward and whispered something to Colin, then she suddenly whooped and kicked Dreamer in the ribs. The stallion launched into a blurring gallop. Jamie was nearly thrown from the saddle as Falcon lowered her head and launched herself forward to keep pace. Terrified, Jamie did everything in his power to keep from falling off the galloping mare. Breathing hard, the two horses flew through the emerald tunnel of vegetation. It slowly dawned on Jamie that there was a recognizable rhythm to the horse’s gallop. His legs started to match the bouncing by raising himself up in the stirrups with each beat of the hooves. He hunched his shoulders like Tutuyak and leaned forward. The wind whistled past his cheeks. Jamie could see why the horse was named Falcon. He felt as if he were flying low to the ground like an iron ball just launched from a cannon. For just a moment, he forgot all of his troubles, tilted back his head, and enjoyed the ride.
They galloped the horses hard until the forest finally began to thin. Tutuyak reined in Dreamer and the snorting horses slowed once again to a bouncy trot. Jamie couldn’t stop grinning. He gave Falcon a good pat on her sweaty neck.
“Thanks for the ride of a lifetime, girl.”
Jamie took a deep breath to clear his head then took in his new surroundings. On either side of the path, small plots of land had been hacked out of the pristine forest. Tiny one-room log cabins had been erected in a corner of each plot. Summer gardens were growing in the tilled fields. Jamie had no doubt that these were newly arrived settlers. The homes resembled the tiny farmhouses that littered the Irish countryside, except they were made of wood instead of sod or stone.
Tutuyak pulled up next to Jamie. Colin, sitting in her lap, was smiling from ear to ear. Jamie reached over and poked him.
“I take it you enjoyed the galloping.”
“Can we do that again, Tutuyak?’ Colin asked, looking up. Jamie translated.
“The horses need a rest now,” she explained. “And the road will get busier as we get closer to Quebec. Sorry, Colin. No more galloping.”
The Emerald Key Page 8