The men rushed over and stared into the hole. They waited for his head to poke back up and for him to gasp for help. He never did and after a few minutes they turned and walked back to the fort.
“Why did he do that?” Thomas asked, bewildered.
Jarvis shrugged. “It has happened before. Sometimes a man will take his own life rather than live on the bay.”
“We have to let the Factor know about this,” Luke said, once they were back in their quarters.
“When do you think he will have the auction?” One of the men rubbed his fur-covered hands together. The others immediately began to argue.
“I want Peter’s shirts.”
“No, I want his shirts. They are too small for you.”
“I will take his breeches. They will fit me fine.”
“What auction?” Henry asked.
“The one for Peter’s things,” Jarvis said.
“Peter is hardly dead, and you men are already dividing up his clothes?” Thomas could not believe it.
“It always happens this way,” Luke explained. “If we do not auction them off, they get stolen anyway. This way the Company can pay for a burial if necessary, or give the money to his family.”
Chapter 23
For the rest of the winter only the things necessary for survival were done. Water was hauled from the hole kept chopped in the river, wood was brought in to keep the stoves going, trees were cut, and food was eaten.
The snow piled up against the buildings giving a bit of insulation from the cold. The cows stood in their shelter, their long, shaggy hair little protection.
Thomas divided his free time between following the narrow path through the high snow banks to visit White Paddler and Little Bird in the village, and helping Francis keep the quarters clean. He never tired of listening to White Paddler’s stories of his trips inland and he enjoyed his time spent with Little Bird. However, he still felt guilty about Francis’ arm.
There was little to relieve the monotony of the winter life. But when something did happen, everyone made the most of it either by taking part or by cheering.
One Friday, as Thomas pushed his salted fish around on his plate, the discontent over the constant serving of fish erupted into a food fight. In a fit of anger, one man threw his tin plate against the wall. Taking their cue, some of the other men joined in, throwing pieces of fish on the floor, against the walls, or into the air. Those who did not participate, clapped their hands and yelled for more. Thomas ducked as the fish flew around him. The outburst lasted until the Factor, summoned by the cook, waddled in and demanded they stop. He could not be heard over the noise, and suddenly out of the melee a piece of fish hit him in the face. Anger made his voice louder and he roared at the men. This time they heard him and slowly settled down.
“The men responsible for this will clean the mess up and then be confined to their rooms until tomorrow evening. There will be no breakfast or lunch, and if you do not like what is prepared tomorrow night, you will again be confined. This will keep up until you will eat what is served to you.”
The men glared at him then grudgingly cleaned the tables, floor, and walls. Thomas left the mess, his meal unfinished.
That night while Thomas lay on his bed, a disagreement began between two card players. Jarvis accused another man, named Paul, of cheating. Paul hotly denied the charge and stood, knocking the table over. Cards and money tokens scattered. The other men scrambled to pick up what they could find and to get out of the way of the two fighters.
Paul threw the first punch and hit Jarvis just below his left eye knocking him to the floor. A circle of spectators formed around them. Thomas joined them. He guessed that, after the dressing down by the Factor, this was a way for them to forget their troubles. And it would make good gossip for a week.
Jarvis sat on the floor rubbing his cheek with his hand. He stared up at Paul and then he smiled. “I do not know if I can beat you,” he said. “But, I will enjoy trying.”
They both had on their indoor wear and neither man could move easily. Jarvis struggled to stand up. He had risen to his knees when Paul hit him again. He fell back against one of the beds.
“You do not give a man a chance, do you?” he said, as he started to stand again. This time when he reached his knees, he lunged at Paul’s legs, knocking him off balance.
The two rolled around on the floor trying to get in a punch, but due to their clothing, not doing much damage. Finally, they pulled apart and took the time to stand. They faced each other breathing hard, more from their exertions than from the fight.
Paul took a swing with his right hand at Jarvis, who stepped back to avoid it. He, in turn, swung with his right and missed. The clothing prevented them from moving fast and from getting any kind of speed or weight behind their punch. They each tried another swing and missed.
The small crowd of men jeered at their efforts and encouraged them to try harder. They did not want to be disappointed. Then Jarvis landed a hard punch. It knocked Paul back onto a bed. Jarvis jumped on top of him and kept punching. Paul raised his hands to shield his face. There was little he could do with Jarvis straddling him on the bunk. Most of the blows glanced off the thick skins on his arms. Finally, Jarvis stopped. He was breathing hard. He sat for a few moments looking down at the man he had called a cheater, and then he climbed off. He went and set the table back up.
“Let us get on with the game,” he said.
* * *
Little Bird sat with her grandmother making little moccasins for Spotted Fawn’s baby. Her grandmother had aged and could not get around as easily as before, but it was good to have her with them.
“I think you will marry White Paddler’s brother,” her grandmother suddenly said.
“I will?” Little Bird was taken by surprised.
“Yes, I saw it in a dream last night.”
“But he is young yet. He is not thinking of marriage.”
“He will soon.”
Little Bird knew of other dreams her grandmother had that came true. But in order for her to marry Thomas, she would have to say yes when he asked her. And she still was not sure if she wanted a white man for a husband.
“I do not want to marry a white man,” Little Bird said.
“Why?”
“Because of what Grandfather did to you.”
Patient Woman sighed. “That should have nothing to do with your decision.”
“Why not?” Little Bird still felt hostility towards her grandfather. “I do not want to be abandoned by my husband. I do not want my children abandoned by their father. If I marry a white man, there is a chance of that happening.”
“Yes, there is, but White Paddler has said their oldest brother inherits the farm and there is nothing for them to go back for.”
“Other men have saved their money and bought their own farms. Thomas might be planning to do that.”
Patient Woman shook her head. “I have seen the look on his face when he talks with White Paddler. He wants to go inland.”
“Yes. Now he does. But how many years will he want that? It is not an easy life.”
“I have also seen his face when he talks with you. He will not want to leave you.”
Little Bird thought about Thomas. She had to admit he did spend a lot of time with her, but she had been sure he came to the teepee mainly because of White Paddler. Thomas loved to hear his stories.
Patient Woman got a faraway look on her face. “In years past some of the white men who arrived at this post stayed. In years to come there will be many white men coming to this big land to live their lives. White Paddler and Thomas are just among the first. Neither will return to their homeland.”
* * *
The middle of March brought the worst storm of the winter. The winds blew fiercely, the snow whipped around the buildings, and visibility was zero. It lasted three days, and each day the men had to decide which ones would go out and try to find the woodpile.
“How much longer is winter
going to last?” Thomas finally asked. “It seems as if I have been cold for years.”
“The temperature should be getting warmer soon,” Luke said. “You will know spring is here, though, when Jarvis takes his bath.”
Soon after the storm the days began to warm up. First the temperatures rose, then the daylight lasted longer, and then the occasional icicle formed on the eaves. Thomas noticed the spirits of the men rose as the temperature did. They began going outside, not that there was anything to do, but just for the enjoyment of being out in the sunshine again.
The sun shone longer and brighter, and the height of the snow dropped quickly. It had been fluffy and high but as it warmed, it compacted.
* * *
“Well, I guess it is time for my bath,” Jarvis announced one Sunday afternoon. He went out with buckets and brought back water. He poured it into a metal pot and set it to heat on the stove. He found an old tub which he set beside the stove and hauled cold water to fill half of it. While he waited for the water to heat, Jarvis cut his hair with his knife, leaving enough to pull into a tail at the back of his neck. He chopped off his beard as close to his skin as he could, then lathered up and scraped off the rest with his straight razor. By then the water on the stove was hot and he poured it into the cold water, testing until it was just the right temperature.
Thomas watched in envy. He, too, would like a bath after the winter of not changing his clothes, but he could not undress in front of all the men.
Jarvis saw him watching. “Do you want one, too?”
Thomas looked at the other men and blushed. He shook his head.
“Ah, you still have some modesty,” Jarvis said. “I lost mine on the trip over. And there is not much privacy here. Besides,” he grinned, “right now, nothing else is as important as getting out of these clothes.”
“It is too early to shave off your beard and cut your hair,” one of the men said. “We could still get cold weather.”
“Right,” said another. He looked at Thomas. “There is no hurry to have a bath. We usually wait until the ice melts and river warms up a bit.”
“Well, I cannot wait that long,” Jarvis said.
He peeled off the layers of skins, then his shirt. Thomas was amazed at how white his skin was and wondered if his own was like that. He turned away.
Jarvis climbed into the tub and sighed. The tub was just big enough for him to stretch out his legs and when he bent his knees, he could dunk his shoulders. He lathered up with soap and washed his hair three times to get the oiliness out.
He scrubbed at his body until the water was cold, then stood and poured some warm water from the stove over his head and let it run down his body. He was shivering when he stepped out of the tub. He dried himself then dug in his bag for a clean set of clothes. He put on a white shirt and tan breeches, both of which were patched in several places, then his stockings and shoes. He donned a vest over his shirt and then his coat.
“Well, I feel civilized again,” he said.
* * *
One warm Saturday Thomas returned after the noon meal to help Francis sweep the quarters. The two of them worked in silence finally broken by Francis.
“I have decided to request permission to return to Stromness this summer,” Francis said.
Thomas stopped his sweeping. “Are you sure you want to?”
“I turned seventeen today,” Francis continued, as if Thomas had not spoken. “Seventeen and only one arm. Not much of a life left for me, is there?”
“Lots of men live without a limb,” Thomas said, with as much enthusiasm as he could.
“Not here.”
“What will you do?”
“Work in Father’s store.”
Thomas felt his guilt return. “I am really sorry about your arm.”
“It was not your fault,” Francis said. “It just happened.”
Thomas nodded, unable to speak.
* * *
By the middle of April, parts of the ground could be seen, and by the end of the month the ground was thawing and mud was everywhere. Although there were wooden sidewalks between the buildings, the men did not always stay on them. Mud was soon tracked on the sidewalk and into the buildings. Thomas had to sweep out the stores every afternoon before leaving.
The middle of the river opened up and the ice began to pull back from the banks of the Bay. As the wind shifted, chunks of ice piled up on the shore. Floes broke off on the river and went down to join the ice on the Bay.
“At least this year the river is breaking up properly,” Wemple said one day, as he and Thomas stood and looked down the bank at the river.
“What else does it do?”
“Sometimes it melts inland and overflows its banks because of the ice still at the mouth. It takes away our steps down to the river and anything that has been left on the banks. One year it took three little Indian children.”
There was still snow on the ground in the shade of the buildings when they dug the grave in the small cemetery to bury Richard. Thomas, Henry, Jarvis, and Luke, helped Francis carry the coffin to the site. The Factor did not attend, but Manchester said a few words before the coffin was lowered into the grave. The four pallbearers shoveled the dirt. Thomas felt sorry for Francis as he stood and watched the coffin being covered. When the hole was filled, Francis wiped his eyes, then turned and walked away.
As the days warmed up, Thomas saw the rest of the men slowly shed their skins and their beards. They also studied the river and made wagers on when the last of the ice would disappear.
One day as the men were leaving the mess, Luke yelled. “I am going to do it.” He headed towards the river.
“What is he going to do?” Thomas asked Jarvis, as they hurried after him.
“Just watch.”
Even though ice still clung to parts of the bank, Luke stripped off his clothes and splashed out into the water. Amid cheers from the other men, he dunked his head under then ran out onto the bank. He stood shivering while hands patted his back. He dried off and quickly donned his clothes.
“He now has the honor of being the first man in the river this year,” Jarvis said. “And he will hold the title until next spring.”
Dandelions, the first flowers of the season, appeared. They had been brought over by the early fur traders to stave off scurvy and now grew in abundance. They were carefully cultivated as a special vegetable. The men gathered the young leaves for a bitter salads, and the flowers for wine.
Even though the water in the river was still cold, some of the men had their baths. Thomas decided to join them. It was a quick one: in, wash, out in a matter of minutes. He sat behind a bush in the warm sun and dried himself off.
When he reached his feet, he stared at his left foot. He had not taken a good look at it since the amputation. The cold had bothered it too much. But now, he scrutinized it carefully. The big toe was the only one left. Where the others had been was a large, pinkish scar. He had never realized until he lost them, how his gait was controlled by his toes. Now, instead of being able to walk straight, he had to step on the inside of his foot so his weight was over his big toe. This caused him to walk at a slower pace and with a slight limp.
Chapter 24
On a Saturday afternoon in late April Thomas made his usual trek to the village after helping Francis. White Paddler was beginning his preparations for his journey inland and Thomas wanted to see it all. He followed White Paddler as he inspected the canoes and suggested repairs. He watched as the Indians built new canoes. He listened to the advice White Paddler gave to the Indian men who would be making the journey for the first time.
He had almost memorized the stories White Paddler told over the winter. It all sounded so exciting, as exciting as joining the Company and coming to the post had sounded a year ago. For the hundredth time he wished he would be able to go inland with White Paddler someday. He wanted to see the land and the lakes and the people White Paddler had described.
“This is the best time of t
he year for me,” White Paddler said, as they walked over to see how the repairs were going on a canoe. “The warmth in the air, the thrill of the upcoming journey, the anticipation of new sights and meetings all make me wish I was leaving now.”
“There seems to be a lot of work to do to get ready,” Thomas said.
“This is only the beginning. There will be more when the time gets closer.”
“How do you feel about leaving Spotted Fawn?”
White Paddler’s face clouded. “I do not like leaving her, but I will not ask her to come with me. It would not be fair to take her and the baby away from her mother and grandmother so soon after it is born.”
“How will they live?” Thomas asked, thinking of the wood and water and food they would need.
“I asked Moon Face’s brother, Red Elk, to look after them last year. I will ask him again this year.”
After leaving White Paddler, Thomas went to see Little Bird. He was not sure how love felt, but he knew he had strong feelings for her. She had never said how she felt about him though. On the way he picked a bouquet of dandelions for her.
* * *
On Monday White Paddler entered the storeroom. He nodded at Wemple and went over to Thomas.
“I need help making a list of the trade goods I will be requiring for the trip inland. Will you get some paper and write down items as I mention them.”
West to the Bay Page 18