West to Grande Portage

by Joan Donadlson-Yarmey

  The British government also closed the fur trade from 1760 to 1763. By that year English and Scottish merchants had moved into Montreal. Trading was set up again with the British supplying the money. The role of the bourgeois or entrepreneur became theirs. They hired the French for their knowledge of the inland trading business. The Frenchmen’s role was reduced to wage earner or voyageur. British capital paid for their services and the British got the profits.

  Pierre banged his glass of wine on the table beside the now empty jug. He hated the English and yet he had accepted William’s offer to paddle in his brigade. He could not sit for hours at a time in a canoe and yet he was going west in the spring. All he could do was hope that he felt better when it was time to load the canoes.

  “This is going to be a bad summer,” he said out loud. “I can feel it.”

  He vowed that if he survived the paddle he would save his money from William and start his own merchant company.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jeanne stood in the back yard with her mother. The snow was gone, the ground was thawed and it was time to work up the soil for planting. Marie liked to get started as early as possible. She took great pride in her vegetable and flower gardens and hers was one of the most beautiful and colorful in the town.

  They had already pulled out the dead plants from last year and burned them. Marie usually hired one of the neighborhood boys to do the digging by hand. He had to loosen the soil after the weight of the snow then rake it to break up the lumps and level it. This year it was Jacques, Ira’s grandson. He had already dug up the first row.

  While he was working Marie decided where to sow the vegetable and flower seeds. She liked to change the layout of her garden every year.

  Jeanne was dividing her time between the hospital and helping her mother with the garden. Both Andrew and Florian called on her for visits and walks. Andrew came on Sunday afternoons, which was his only day off from the merchant house, while Florian came most evenings after he finished work at the cabinet makers.

  Florian had signed on to go west in the summer and one evening when he came to pick her up he announced. “I have some news.”

  “What is it?” she asked as they walked.

  “This is my last year as a voyageur.”

  She stopped and looked up at him. “Why? I thought you liked it.”

  “I do, but I have decided that if I am to have a wife I need to be here with her all year, not just for the winter.”

  “Oh,” Jeanne said in a small voice. Ever since he had asked if he could court her he had been hinting about a life together but had not come out and actually asked the question. And for that she was glad because she still did not know how she would answer.

  “I will use my money to buy the business from my boss. He is getting older and wants to semi-retire. We have agreed that I will own the business and hire him to help me.” Florian sounded proud of his agreement with his boss.

  “That is so wonderful,” Jeanne said enthusiastically.

  “Yes. I have been discussing it with him for a month now and we shook hands on it today. Tomorrow we will draw up the bill of sale and sign it. When that is done, then I can begin my plans for my future.”

  Jeanne did not know what to say to that. Is sounded like he was getting close to proposing to her and she was suddenly afraid. Andrew still had not mentioned any intention towards her other than friendship. She was not sure if he was shy or just wanting company until he returned home. And short of asking him outright, there was no way she could find out.

  * * *

  Phillippe dressed slowly. He found it hard to get up to do the chores each morning. Farming was now of no interest to him. It was all so boring, doing the same thing every day. In the spring everyone worked long days in the fields or gardens.

  This year, because Phillippe would be gone, his parents and Jean-Luc would have to work harder. Antoinette even said she could come out and help. Sometimes, when he thought about it, the idea of his mother and Antoinette out helping with the planting and then having to work in the vegetable gardens afterwards bothered him. The tools that farmers used were mainly hand operated such as the hoe, fork, and axe in the spring and scythe and sickle for the harvest in the fall. Luckily, they had oxen to pull the plow to turn the soil. Jean-Luc would have to learn how to guide the oxen so they made a straight row.

  However, foremost in his thoughts was the knowledge that he was going west and would be earning his own money as a voyageur. He had tried on his outfit a number of times and stopped only when his mother told him he would have it worn out before he left.

  But his father did not see Phillippe as a voyageur yet and insisted he help him with the farm work as usual until he left.

  “Hurry up,” Louis called.

  Phillippe clunked down the stairs and out the door. He trudged over to the pig pen and dropped the ground grain and water into their trough. Jean-Luc had already fed the chickens and gathered the eggs. They went into the barn to help Louis with the milking. When finished, they headed in for breakfast.

  Now that the weather was warmer his mother had changed her heavier woolen dresses for ones made from hemp or linen. Each year as her dresses wore out, she would save the better sections from them until she had enough to make a multi-colored dress from the different colored pieces. She wore one now and Phillippe liked the arrangement of red, blue, and plaid squares and triangles.

  Once they were seated at the table and eating their wheat pancakes, Louis said. “These fields have been planted for years and I have noticed that the soil is not producing as well as it used to. While I still have Phillippe here to help, I want to clear more land.”

  Phillippe stared at his father. He wanted to clear the land now, this spring? “What about the fields we have to get ready for planting?”

  “The soil is still too damp from the recent rains to plow. We will start cutting trees today and see how much we get done before it is time for plowing.”

  Phillippe was tempted to pack up his clothes and move into Montreal to stay with his Uncle Pierre. He had thought he would have time to go into town and visit Marguerite. He had planned on just walking the streets in his voyageur outfit, mingling with the other men going west. He wanted to go to William’s merchant house and watch them get the packs ready for the canoes. He had so many plans for his time before leaving.

  And now he had to cut trees instead. Not just cut trees but limb them, chop them into firewood and haul the pieces by cart to the house. Then when all the trees were cut, they had to burn the stumps and surrounding small bush. When the fire died and the ashes were cool, the roots had to be dug out and thrown into a pile to be burned later. And that was not the end of it. Stones had to be removed and carried to the edge of the field to be used for fences.

  Since bread was a main staple of their lives most of the new land would be planted into wheat; the rest probably into oats and hay for the livestock. Farming was hard, back-breaking work and he hated the very idea of being on the farm these last few weeks.

  But at the same time he understood his father’s underlying desire to increase his farmland. Yes, the soil was being depleted but it was also because of the famine they had suffered through during the war with the British. Most of the men from the farms around Montreal and Quebec had joined the militia, his father included. With the men gone, the women and children were left to look after the farms. They could not plow the soil and plant the seeds and there was no one to hire to do it. With no one to work the farms, in the fall of 1757 and for the next three years, there was little harvest.

  This led to years of famine for the colony because of the extra mouths of the French military to feed. Bread became a scarcity and cows, sheep, pigs were confiscated from the farms. When they ran out, hard-working horses went into the cookpots.

  While she could not plant the fields with grain, Bridget still maintained their vegetable garden. She grew all the vegetables as usual and planted the potatoes that were reserved for th
e animals to eat. Their taste was unusual but no one complained. The family ate everything that was grown. His mother even planted some wheat to grind for bread. She hid the vegetables and grain when she harvested them so they would not be seized for the military. But the militia came out during the summer and searched the yard and house for whatever vegetables were in season. She learned to dig holes in the fields and bury many of the vegetables there. She kept a few in the house to satisfy the militia’s demands.

  She also hunted porcupine, hares, and wild chickens. But so did the rest of the residents of the colony so there were very few to find.

  But even with these measures, there was not enough food to sustain them plus everyone else in the colony. Over the winters with little to eat people lost weight. Phillippe remembered how his mother had been just skin and bones. He knew she was eating less so her children could have more. He was sure other mothers did the same but still children sickened and died. His own little sister, a year older than Jean-Luc, had been one of them. He had watched her grow weaker until one day she just died.

  That was why he was so worried about Marguerite. Watching her these past few months brought back memories of his sister fading and dying. He did not want Marguerite to die.

  After breakfast Phillippe, Louis, and Jean-Luc went to the bush that still stood at the back of their property. Phillippe and Jean-Luc carried axes while Louis had the gun. Even though it was 1766, life was still not safe for the farmers. Back in the mid to late 1600s, there had been constant attacks by the Iroquois. Sometimes, habitants on the seigneuries were killed in their fields, sometimes on their way to safety of the nearby forts. Sometimes, they were spirited away never to be seen again.

  Everyone knew the legend of 14-year-old Marie-Madeleine Jarret. In 1692, Madeleine, as she was called, was attacked outside the fortress on her family’s seigneury. She made it back to the fort and led her two younger brothers, two soldiers, a man of 80, a servant, and a few women and children in a standoff with an Iroquois band. For eight days and eight nights the young woman and her small force held off siege after siege made by the natives. She came up with many ingenious tactics to make it seem like there were many more inhabitants inside the fort than just the few. One was for her and her two brothers to don soldier helmets and parade along the upper walkway. They went slow so that the one in the lead could run down the stairs across the grounds and up the other stairs to get in line. When the two soldiers joined them, the Indians fell back. During the rain and snow of the night she and the others would call out “All is well” to deceive the Iroquois into thinking all inside were awake and ready. She never rested in her quest to save the people and the fort. On the ninth day forty soldiers came from Montreal to rescue them.

  And then there was little Henri Lafontaine. Four years ago, at the age of seven he had been outside playing in the bush near the seigneury where his parents had a farm. When he did not come in for lunch his father went looking for him. He did not find any blood but he did find a spot where some ground had been scuffed as if there had been a struggle. Everyone thought the Iroquois had stolen the young boy and no one had seen him since. Even though Henri had lived miles away from them and they had never had any trouble with Indians, Louis insisted they have a gun with them whenever they were out working in the fields.

  At the stand of bush, Louis checked the first tree to see which way it leaned. He wanted to make sure it fell away from the other trees so it would not hang up on their branches. He chopped a notch out of the side in the direction it was supposed to fall, then he and Phillippe began chopping the opposite side. Eventually the tree began to tilt. The more they cut out the further it tilted until there was a loud crack and the tree fell to the ground. They knocked off the branches, which Jean-Luc stacked in a pile. Louis and Phillippe chopped the tree into pieces for firewood. That took most of the morning.

  Because farming was such hard work they usually ate four meals a day in the summer. They rose at dawn and did the chores before eating breakfast. The next two, one at noon and one at four, were light and fast so daylight was not wasted. Supper at eight was the major meal.

  Rather than having to return to the house to eat, Bridget packed some bread and cheese in a basket for both the noon and four o’clock meals. There was a second gun at the house in case she needed to defend herself. When it was dark they came in for their supper of bread, baked moose and boiled peas. Dessert was dried cranberries and jams made from strawberries, raspberries and blackberries.

  Phillippe was tired and his muscles were sore when he climbed into bed. Maybe this was not such a bad thing, though. Maybe this would toughen him up for the paddle. He had better get something out of this work.

  Chapter Twelve

  Pierre pushed open the door of Macleod Merchant House. Last night a young lad had delivered a note from William asking that Pierre come to the business early this morning. No reason was given but many had been running through his mind on his walk over.

  Had William taken offence to his remarks about the English? Had he decided he did not want Pierre on the paddle? Did he think Phillippe could look after himself? Was the money he had envisioned to start his own business going to disappear? He hoped not because he had already started making plans. He cautioned himself to be polite to William. And yes, to Andrew, too.

  William and Andrew were surrounded by guns, kegs of powder, bags of shot, ironware, axes, blankets, linen, woolens, tobacco, and miscellaneous other items such as vinegar, pewter, playing cards, and tuques.

  Pierre walked over to them. He sneered at the hat on Andrew’s head.

  “You wanted to see me?” Pierre said to William.

  “Yes,” William said. “I want to talk to you about the brigade.”

  Pierre breathed a silent sigh of relief. He still had his job.

  “I want you to be in charge of the trip and that includes recruiting,” William said to Pierre.

  “Me?” Pierre asked surprised. “Why me?”

  “Because you know what to look for in paddlers, you know route, you will get the best furs, and you be back here on time.”

  Pierre was stunned. The last thing he expected was to be put in charge. He knew he could do it and do it well, but it left him in a quandary. He, Francois, and Bernard had a routine they did during the trade at Grande Portage that netted them extra income. They had talked about doing the same on this trip. Plus, Pierre had a few delays and mishaps planned that would affect William’s bottom line.

  But if the bottom line was up to him, he had to get the work done and done right. He had to solve problems not cause them. He would look bad if anything went wrong. He did not like the idea of having to change his plans.

  At the same time, his ego told him that, of course, he should be picked. After all, he was the best voyageur in Montreal.

  “I will do it,” Pierre agreed.

  William held out his hand and Pierre shook it. Once more the deal was finalized.

  “How many paddlers do you have so far?” Pierre asked.

  William grimaced. “Twenty-three.”

  “That is not even enough for three canoes. How many canoes are you sending?”

  “Five.”

  Pierre could not hide his shock. “It is early April. The ice on the rivers is melting. The other merchants will have hired all the available paddlers by now.”

  “I know,” William said. “Last year I talked to the men when they returned, even the ones I did not trust. Some hired on again but many others decided they were going to strike out on their own going inland and not coming back in the fall. So there are not the same number of paddlers to sign on as before.”

  “Who do you have?”

  William handed him the papers with the list on them.

  Pierre scanned the names. “Florian is paddling for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you get him?”

  “He came in and signed up,” William said.

  Pierre did not like the idea of Floria
n being part of the brigade. The two of them had had words many times at Grande Portage over the trading of the furs.

  “Did he say why he wanted to paddle for you?” Pierre knew that if anyone was going to take over his place as the best voyageur in Montreal, it would probably be Florian. Pierre recognized many of the traits in the young man that he himself had possessed at the same age. Those traits had made him a fearless and strong coureur de bois.

  William shrugged. “He did not say.”

  “It will not be easy to get voyageurs at this late date. I will have to go to small towns and farms.”

  “Do whatever it takes.”

  “It may cost you more money.”

  “I need paddlers.”

  Pierre nodded. “I will start on Monday. But I need contracts.”

  “Andrew has those.”

  Pierre looked over to where Andrew was rolling up some papers. He handed them to Pierre.

  “If you are coming with me this summer you cannot wear that hat,” Pierre said to Andrew.

  “You cannot tell me what to wear,” Andrew said.

  “It might fall in the river and be swept away,” Pierre said.

  “Then I will go after it.” Andrew answered defiantly.

  “You would risk death for a hat?”

  “It is an important hat.”

  “You English are so mad.” Pierre walked out the door.

  * * *

  It was a bright warm spring morning. Phillippe had his arm around Marguerite as they walked behind Jeanne and Antoinette on their way to church. Farmers were not allowed to work and businesses were not allowed to be open on Sundays or religious holidays.

  In the past Phillippe had been the one to stay on the farm and do the chores while his parents came into Montreal for church and then lunch with Marie and Etienne, but yesterday he had asked if he could be the one who attended. He had not been to Montreal since he had taken Marguerite for the drive the morning after his night out with Pierre. He explained that he wanted to get her up and to church if she felt well enough for it. His parents had agreed, giving him their weekly tithe. He had come in last evening.