The Emerald Key

by Christopher Dinsdale

  Mr. Kessler pointed to a second book. “This book shows a diagram of the Erie Canal in the United States, not too far from the border with Canada West. Again, it is a very impressive piece of engineering, joining the Great Lakes to the Hudson River, which flows south to New York City, but really, nothing in the canal’s vicinity even hints at a mountainous environment. Right here in Montreal, there are dreams of bypassing the Lachine rapids with a series of canals. Still, the land surrounding the southern shore of Montreal is as flat as can be.”

  “Which brings us to this project,” said Jamie, tapping a third book.

  “Right. This is a diagram of the Welland Canal. It is a vital water link between Lake Ontario and Lake Erie, and it allows sailors to avoid the dangerous waters that flow over Niagara Falls. The first attempt to build a canal around Niagara Falls began in 1825. It involved using a long series of wooden doors and beam boxes to raise a boat up and over the rising topography of the local area. Horses then pulled the ships along the length of the canal until the journey to Lake Erie was complete.”

  “Wait!” said Beth. “I’ve heard of the Welland Canal! A few months ago, I was sent to search all of the orphanages in Montreal for older boys who were strong enough to work on its construction.”

  Mr. Kessler nodded. “I remember the papers mentioning that there are a large number of Irish labourers working on that particular canal project.”

  Jamie smiled. “And the interesting thing about the Welland Canal is that it does take a boat over a mountain.”

  “What?” exclaimed Beth.

  Jamie pointed to a map of Canada. “Between Lake Ontario and Lake Erie is the Niagara Escarpment. Looking up from Lake Ontario, I bet the escarpment would appear to be a mountain. A canal would have to go up and over it to reach the shores of Lake Erie.”

  Mr. Kessler smiled. “My thoughts exactly.”

  Beth eagerly leaned over the book. “A canal carrying a boat over a mountain! Fantastic! But why are they wanting to build another canal if one already exists?”

  Mr. Kessler examined the book. “According to this recent publication, the original canal is in dire need of repair. The company that owns the Welland Canal wants to make the system more efficient so that larger ships can pass between the two lakes. They also want to increase their revenues by using the water in the canal to power local factories. To achieve their goals, they decided that they might as well start from scratch and build a brand new canal. It would take some brilliant engineering to pull it off, but if they could build it, the company would stand to make a great deal of money.”

  “And that now explains my brother’s sketches. Ryan is an excellent engineer. He helped design a repair to an old aqueduct back in Ireland. I’m thinking that he was trying to help someone on board the Carpathia with a problem associated with the building of the new canal. See these lines coming out the bottom of each rectangle? I bet those are the pipes that will bleed water from the bottom of the highest locks in order to help power the factories at the bottom of the escarpment.”

  “So Ryan drew a sketch of the Welland Canal just before he reached Montreal,” summarized Beth. “What do we do now, Jamie?”

  “We follow the only lead we have. We go to St. Catharines, the town located at the bottom of the Welland Canal, and see if we can track him down.”

  “And how do we get to St. Catharines?”

  “Leave that to me,” said Mr. Kessler, smiling. “I have a friend who owes me a favour.”

  They all stood up from the table. Beth leaned down and lifted Colin to his feet. Mr. Kessler extended his hand to each of them. “It’s been a pleasure to meet each and every one of you. Jamie, I wish you all the best in finding your brother Ryan.”

  Jamie nodded. “And thank you for your help once again, Mr. Kessler. We would not be planning to go to St. Catharines if it wasn’t for your assistance. Before we go, could I ask for just one more small favour?”

  “Certainly, Jamie. Name it.”

  “Can I buy a copy of that newspaper you showed us yesterday, the one with the headline from Toronto?”

  Mr. Kessler went behind the counter and retrieved the paper. “It’s a day-old paper, so please, keep it. No charge.”

  Jamie tucked it under his arm. “Thank you so much.”

  “Now could I ask for one more small favour from you?” asked the bookseller.

  “Anything,” replied Jamie.

  “Could I just look at your ancient text one last time?”

  Jamie smiled, reached into his leather bag, removed the Book of Galway, and passed it to the old bookseller. Mr. Kessler sighed happily as he carefully turned each page of text and admired the glorious masterpiece. He carefully closed the book and passed it back to Jamie.

  “Now I am a happy man,” he murmured.

  After saying their good-byes, the young travellers stepped out into the blinding morning sunshine. The store owners were busy raising their awnings and preparing for the new business day. Pedestrians carefully worked their way along the rickety wooden sidewalks. Everyone was buzzing about the razed House of Parliament, still smouldering in the centre of the city. The smoke from the massive fire hung in the morning air like a fine fog. Jamie pulled Beth and Colin into a bakery doorway.

  “Where are we going?” asked Beth.

  “We go back to your hideout near the docks and sleep.”

  “Sounds good to me,” agreed Beth, who yawned and looked ready for a nap after being up all night with Jamie. “Then what?”

  “How quickly can you round up a dozen strong, smart orphans?”

  She looked at him. “Do they have to be boys?”

  “Not necessarily. They just have to be the best.”

  She brightened. “Sneak them out of the orphanages without anyone knowing?”

  “Yes.”

  “It would be harder in the daytime than it would be at night.”

  “Tonight is fine. How fast can you do it?”

  “Before midnight,” she said, confidently.

  “Good. After the sun sets this evening, go get me those orphans.”

  She crossed her arms. “Are you going to tell me why you need a dozen more orphans? You can barely handle two.”

  “Because,” he smiled, “it’s time to go borrow something else, and this time it’s going to be a lot bigger than a book.”

  Chapter 16

  Like the Pied Piper of Hamlin, Jamie led the fourteen Irish orphans down to a small beach located in the deserted southwest corner of Montreal. Jamie explained his audacious plan to the teenagers as they marched along the gravelly shore. No one was being forced to come along. At this point, he gave them all the choice to return to the orphanage, because in a moment it would be too late to turn back. To Jamie’s surprise, not one hesitated in agreeing to help him.

  Mr. Kessler had arranged the midnight rendezvous with his friend on the beach. The children could hear the gentle rumble of the Lachine rapids only a few hundred feet upstream from where they stood. Boats would rarely sail this close to the dangerous hazard, especially at night, so the orphans were safe from being seen. After what had happened to Beth on the roof of the parliament building, Jamie was not going to take any more chances.

  All eyes turned toward the river as the bows of four huge canoes quietly materialized from the moonless gloom. The crafts glided silently through the water until their pointed bows ground up gracefully onto the gravelly beach. The bowmen jumped out and secured their craft while the men in the stern climbed forward to join their mates on dry land. Jamie approached the tallest of the men. He fit Mr. Kessler’s description perfectly.

  “I’m Jamie Galway. You must be John Rice.”

  The faint moonlight made it difficult to see, but Jamie could discern his giant-like frame, broad face, and long, braided hair. The man’s hand engulfed Jamie’s like that of a hungry shark swallowing a minnow.

  “I am. Call me Big John.” He looked over at the children, noticing their fair skin and freckles. “Are the
re any sick among you?”

  Jamie shook his head. “You have my word that they are all healthy. They’ve been out of quarantine for months.”

  “I have a ship leaving Kahnewake in two hours time. It’s heading to Kingston to pick up timber for export, but we can drop you off at Prescott along the way. Mind if I ask what you are doing with fourteen children?”

  Jamie smiled. “I’m taking them on a tour of Canada West. We hear it’s beautiful this time of year.”

  Big John raised an eyebrow. “A tour?”

  “What did Mr. Kessler say was the reason for our need of transportation?” asked Jamie.

  “He wouldn’t tell me, but he said it was important that I pick you up at night, and that there were to be no questions asked. Being a friend, you’d think he’d trust me with the reason to start your, um, tour, in the dead of night.”

  “Perhaps he’s being a friend by choosing not to tell you,” countered Jamie.

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “I can share this with you, Big John. Someone tried to kill one of these innocent orphans yesterday, and I don’t know why. An unseen departure was the only way I could ensure everyone’s safety.”

  Big John looked over to the children. “Attempted murder? All right, now I understand the secrecy. Just tell me this. You or these children haven’t done anything illegal, have you?”

  “Not yet.”

  He laughed. “That’s good. As long as it wasn’t you that burned down the House of Parliament yesterday.”

  “I swear to you it was not I that burned down the House of Parliament. Seeing that beautiful library go up in flames actually brought tears to my eyes.”

  “Just tell me we won’t get into any trouble with the law by letting you on my ship. I have permits that need renewing at the end of the year.”

  “You won’t have to worry about a thing from the law.”

  “If I find out that you’ve been lying to me, you and your orphans will be in more trouble than you can possibly imagine.”

  “I understand.” Jamie passed him an envelope. “Here is your payment for services rendered.”

  Big John held up his hand, refusing to take the money. “I owed Mr. Kessler a big favour and he cashed it in on you. Keep the money. My ship isn’t Queen Victoria’s royal yacht. Do we have a deal?” Big John stuck out his hand.

  Jamie clasped it. “We have a deal.”

  “The only thing you need to worry about is feeding your young sightseers for two days until we reach Prescott.”

  Big John Rice turned the worn wooden wheel with the affection of a proud parent as his ship ploughed through the waters just south of the village of Cornwall. The midday river was busy with boats of all shapes and sizes running the profitable route between Montreal, Canada West, and New York State. More often than not, Big John would recognize a fellow boat captain, give two short rings on the tarnished brass bell that hung outside the wheelhouse, and wave. The captain on the passing boat would smile and return a similar salute.

  “The Kentson is my first steamship,” he explained to Jamie, patting the wheel. “On these waters, she and I have seen too many joys and tragedies to count. The ghosts of twenty years of hauling cargo, moving passengers, and avoiding almost certain disaster … all of those memories have permeated the railings and bulkheads of this old girl. It’s just too bad a ship is like you and me, she can’t live on forever.”

  Jamie saw the imposing captain admire his rusting ship the way he had seen many priests admire their dilapidated abbeys. Jamie understood Big John’s emotions perfectly.

  “It sounds like you’re getting close to giving her up.”

  Big John sighed. “You’re right. In fact, this is the old girl’s last run.”

  Jamie leaned back on the rail. “Really? Then I guess you’ll have to tell me a little bit more about her.”

  “Her Boulton and Watt engine was built in 1817 and saw duty on two previous ships before I purchased it right off the dock in the Port of Montreal. It took me a year to modify this ship to take on the engine’s enormous bulk and the twenty-foot paddlewheel on her portside. But in the end, it was all worth it. I’ve built up enough capital over the years of running goods up and down the St. Lawrence to go out and buy a new ship with a proper propeller.”

  Jamie raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never seen a propeller-driven ship.”

  The captain laughed. “It’s the future, lad! Soon, all the ships will have them. The best thing about my beautiful new ship is not the propeller though, it’s the engine. My new compound engine is kept in the stern, which translates into a doubling of my ship’s cargo space. With so much cargo capacity, I’ll also be doubling my profits in no time.”

  “And then you’ll be happy?” asked Jamie.

  “You have to think big, son. This is how you do it. You take your profits from the one ship you own and then invest the money into purchasing two or three more ships. Next, with your greater market share, you run your competition into the ground by lowering prices. Then, you buy even more ships until you dominate the industry. My goal is not just to be the biggest shipping company under Mohawk ownership, but the biggest shipping company in all of Canada!”

  “I wish you all the best with your dream. Did you say you’re Mohawk? I read that Mohawks are part of a larger Iroquois nation.”

  He nodded. “We’re one of six tribes that make up the confederacy. Our land is just southwest of Montreal.”

  The conversation was interrupted by an older man in grease-covered overalls entering the wheelhouse. With massive arms and a barrel chest bursting out from a torn shirt, the mechanic ambled over to the captain and slapped him on the back.

  “Thanks for sending those kids down to help me in the engine room. They’re as smart as whips, and they’re making our lady’s last run real easy.”

  “Easy enough to leave them down there, all on their own?” growled Big John.

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, Captain. Jonesy is down there, keeping an eye on them.”

  “Well, don’t thank me for the idea, thank Mr. Galway here. He’s the one who wanted to send his kids all over my ship in order to help out with its operations. Jamie Galway, this is my chief engine man, Russell Summers.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Summers. And thank you for taking the time to explain to the children how to operate your steam engine. Having this experience may help them find work when they’re older.”

  “Call me Hawkeye, and no thanks needed. They’re doing a terrific job. In fact, Big John might want to consider taking them on as apprentices once he purchases one of those new ships of his.”

  Big John laughed. “A crew of Irish kids on a Mohawk ship? Why not? What do you think of that, Mr. Galway?”

  Jamie smiled, but something hanging around Hawkeye’s neck caught his eye. “I think they would be thrilled to have the opportunity. Are you Mohawk, too, Hawkeye?”

  “Iroquois yes, but not Mohawk. I’m Oneida. My tribe is from the southern shore of Lake Ontario.”

  Jamie squinted and moved closer. “Say, what’s that around your neck?”

  Hawkeye held out his chain for Jamie to see. Jamie’s eyes widened as he recognized the pendant hanging from the chain as a finely carved Celtic cross. “That’s a beautiful Celtic cross you’ve got there. Where did you get it?”

  “Actually, my grandfather gave it to me. He says it’s been in the family for generations. There’s a story attached to the cross, and he said he’ll get around to telling me about it, someday.”

  “I bet there is,” said Jamie, surprised at its similarity to the legendary St. Patrick cross he had seen in illustrations back home.

  “Well, I better get back to work before the boss here sees that I’m slacking off.”

  “Too late,” growled Big John as Hawkeye disappeared from the wheelhouse. “So you still want me to drop you off in Prescott? What could possibly be in that small town for you and fourteen Irish orphans?”

  “I hope you u
nderstand, but it’s better you don’t know.”

  Big John grinned. “A task that is too secretive to share with your good old buddy Big John? I really don’t gossip … much.”

  “Trust me,” said Jamie, seriously. “It’s better for everyone this way.”

  As the men stood in silence, a piercing cry carried through the open door and into the wheelhouse. Jamie stuck his head outside and shielded his eyes from the midday sun.

  “I thought I recognized that call,” muttered Jamie. “He’s following us.”

  “Who is?” asked Big John.

  “There’s a falcon up there, following the boat.”

  “So?”

  “A Wendat friend told me not long ago that a falcon would help show me the way. With our flying friend leading us forward, I’m starting to feel a little better about the crazy plan I’m hatching.”

  Denny Ferguson strolled along the dock of the Prescott Shipbuilding Company whistling a tune he had heard at the county fair earlier that afternoon. It was too bad he couldn’t have spent the evening at the fair as well. His wife’s gooseberry pie was up for tonight’s judging, and he hoped she would win the contest for the second year in a row. Another blue ribbon would look fine on the mantelpiece, and he could once again crow to all his friends that after work he was lucky enough to have a beautiful wife and the best desserts in the county waiting for him at home.

  The setting sun was shimmering scarlet on the river, and the colour reminded him of gooseberries, just like the ones in that slice of pie in his lunch pail back at the gatehouse. She had slipped it into his dinner before he’d headed off to work. She gave him a kiss at the door and said the slice would bring her luck at the fair. Although his mouth was watering at the thought of his treat, he decided that he could resist temptation until the sun went down. Until then, he had better finish his patrol.

  He walked along the shipbuilding company’s long dock and examined once again the three moored ships. The smallest and furthest from shore was the high-bowed fishing boat Daytripper. The boss was doing a friend a favour and had repaired its hull in dry dock after the boat had run aground on a shoal near Brockville. The second ship was the Mary Jane, a Great Lakes cargo carrier that had been brought to them by the York Shipping Company. They were willing to pay Prescott Shipbuilding a handsome sum to convert her from sail to steamship. She was next in line to use the company’s dry dock.