Finding John Rae

by Hamilton, Alice Jane;

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away. “You seem to forget that I, too, was happy as a child across the bay in Orphir. But then James went to Africa, and left little Helen behind for us to raise. William went to North America. You left for the Arctic. Papa died. Jessie and Hector moved to Canada West. Tom and Dick did the same thing. Mam had to leave the Hall of Clestrain. We hardly saw you after you left for Hudson Bay in 1833. You just sent money and the odd letter to Mam, as if that made your absence all right. If you really did care so much about those of us left behind in Orkney, surely you’d have made some kind of effort to come here and see us. Eventually, you did visit, but by that point I was tired…” John reached over and put his arm around Marion’s shoulders as she wept.

  “That idyllic life you apparently treasured so much is long over, Johnny,” she said. “It is done.”

  Tara Gott.

  “Marion is right,” John added. “She has stood fast all these years, while everyone else trickled away and left your mother in her care. John, you should appreciate what your sister has done, and thank her for it! Not just you, but the whole lot of you Raes!”

  I sighed. “Marion, I feel like a fool. I was selfish, absorbed in my own life, just as you said. It never occurred to me that you didn’t have the time or opportunity to think of yourself. I just assumed that you were satisfied to take care of everything, raising your family, being close to Mam.”

  I wanted to reach out and hold her hand just then, but I was afraid she would snatch it away. “I do appreciate everything you have done — everything you do — but you couldn’t have known that, because I never came home, never told you, hardly ever wrote to you! I took you for granted all these years. I can only hope you’ll forgive me, because I am very, very sorry.”

  “The cold season here is so long, dark and damp,” she sniffed. “The winds are relentless. It’s hard on our family’s health, our spirits. Our house in Stromness isn’t big enough for all of us. We could move to something larger, but our decision to leave Orkney is about much more than the size of a home. The children — John and I as well — need room to grow, to expand our horizons, see our family in North America, learn something about the modern world beyond these islands.” She looked at her husband. “There’s a good hospital in Hamilton where John could put his skills to use, and the city has a growing population. We are all getting older, Johnny. John and I are well along in our forties now, and we don’t have all the time in the world.”

  I thought about my remaining siblings and their families building new lives in Canada West. Settlements and cities in North America were growing, but the opposite was true in Orkney, where life had changed little during many centuries. I sighed. “As much as I find it difficult to accept the notion of our family leaving Orkney after only one generation — ”

  “Two, Johnny.” Marion scowled. “We have nine children.”

  “Aye, you are right. There I go again, completely missing the obvious. Two generations.” My eyes were burning; I rubbed at them, which only made it worse. “How could anyone fault you for wanting to make a new life in North America? How could I criticize you for that? You have earned it.”

  Marion rose, put her arms around my neck and kissed me on both cheeks. “Thanks, Johnny. I needed to hear that. I may sleep better tonight for it.”

  Later, John and I sat together in the library, drawing warmth from the fire. “Have you thought about what you will do while this terrible Franklin mess runs its course and eventually settles down?” he asked.

  “Aye, I think about it all the time.”

  I looked at the Rae family portrait hanging on the wall. It had been painted in 1825, almost thirty years ago. I had a vague recollection of having to sit alone and unmoving on a stool for what seemed like an eternity, so the artist could capture the details of my child’s face and body. Each of us in our turn had to endure that solitary sitting for the painting — with all of us in it — to be completed. I smiled at the memory.

  John’s voice brought me back to the present. “Will you return to business as usual with the Company?”

  “Sir George expects me to continue as chief factor,” I replied, “but I can’t see myself spending the rest of my life in the Arctic. It can be lonely over there, you know. I hate to admit it, but as I grow older, my tolerance for the outdoor life in such an unforgiving climate is diminishing.”

  I looked at John’s handsome, kind face, feeling envious of his life with a wife and children. I had always known that I wanted one day to have the same things as John and Tom, his wife Helen and their two fine boys, but the idea of settling down always seemed to be so far away in the future. Things were beginning to look different now.

  “I’m thinking of submitting my notice to the Hudson’s Bay Company as chief factor for the Mackenzie River District, John. Sir George may offer me a position closer to home, at least for a while. I do think I’m ready for a change, especially after this latest fiasco with the Admiralty. Before too long I want to have a family of my own, but definitely not in the Arctic.”

  He glanced up from the fire. “What about the immediate future?”

  “So many ideas are tumbling about in my head. I may try to pay a visit to Tom and Dick in Hamilton next summer. The boys are still packing meats, you know, but they’ve also started buying ships, and they’re even building them in the railway shipyard at the docks.” I felt a wave of world-weariness at that moment.

  Then, I thought again. Shipbuilding. Hamilton. Rae Brothers & Company. Perhaps I could build my own ship there.

  John sighed. “There are rumours. Jessie writes that Dick disappears for days at a time. No one knows where he goes or what he does, and he offers no explanation when he returns. Tom told her that he arrives at the office unshaven, sullen and quiet. He refuses to answer questions about his absences. He lives alone these days, so nobody really knows about the nature of his double life.”

  “Alcohol? Gambling?”

  “Quite possibly.”

  I pressed my thumbs into the corners of my eyes. “Tom’s a good lad. So is Dick, but it sounds as though he’s gone off course. You know I love my brothers, but it’s no secret that I really looked up to William. He taught me how to sail. He was strong and adventurous, such a capable seaman. And funny as hell, too.”

  “Aye, Johnny, we will never know the full truth of what caused William to snap. I will say, though, that he was far from home, and I do not believe the Hudson’s Bay Company supplied him with what he needed to properly run an outpost in such a foreign place. He spoke no Spanish…”

  He settled more deeply into his chair. “From what I understand, the Company had for too many years shuffled the poor fellow here, there and everywhere throughout the Pacific Northwest. When he was sent south to Yerba Buena in the Columbia River district after marrying his employer’s daughter, it all seemed to start out on a good footing. Apparently he worked hard to gain the trust of the people. It looked as though he had the world in his pocket. Eloisa gave him four fine children, the eldest named after you, Johnny…”

  “Aye, and then William took a mistress.”

  “A very poor decision, indeed.”

  I rose from my chair and faced John, my back to the fire. My legs were stiff, and the warmth from the flames felt soothing.

  “You know,” he said, “William was an unreliable correspondent, at best. He made his own bed, so to speak, and not once did he indicate to any of us that his life was taking such a difficult turn. You read the letter his associates sent to your mother after his death. Everyone was taken by surprise.”

  I sat down again, and stared at the flames rising in the hearth. “Well, I will write a letter to Tom in the morning. You know, I miss the pipsqueak! Once my business with the Company is finished in London, I may spend some time in Hamilton, but I don’t know if I would choose to settle there permanently. We’ll see what the future holds. Maybe one day I’ll purchase land in Orkney and live here with my own family.”


  “That’s a splendid idea,” he replied. “You can repopulate these islands with new generations of Raes!” We both chuckled at the thought. “You know, our move to Canada West will mark the end of this era, but for Marion, the children and me, it’s the beginning of a new and happier one, I hope. God knows Marion deserves it. Of course, we’ll remain here with your mother as long as necessary, and see to it that she is not alone.” He paused.

  “You said earlier that you don’t wish to discuss the Franklin party controversy, or the people associated with it. I understand that, of course. You should get some rest…”

  “I will, but I wouldn’t mind sitting here in front of the fire for a while longer.”

  “D’you wish to be alone, Johnny?”

  “No, I’m glad for your company.” We sat in companionable silence. Later, I cleared my throat and turned to John.

  “This is a difficult time for me, John, both personally and professionally, but mark my words — I’ll be damned if I’ll see the Esquimaux dragged through the mud like this without a fight. I’m not sure how, but I hope to figure out a way to straighten out the whole mess. Lady Franklin and her followers are on a mission to discredit me, the Esquimaux, and to place her poor husband on the highest possible pedestal as Britain’s greatest explorer.

  “By the way, John, do you ever read Charles Dickens’ weekly journal Household Words?”

  “I’ve heard of it. I think the newsagent along the road brings in a few copies each week. By then, they’re out of date. I’ve enjoyed his novels, though. David Copperfield, Oliver Twist.”

  “Dickens calls himself the “conductor” of the news, as if he is leading some sort of writers’ orchestra. How odd that is. Why doesn’t he simply refer to himself as the editor or publisher? Pompous, arrogant fellow…”

  John stared at me. “I gather you have some kind of argument with the man, Johnny.”

  “I saw him briefly in London. He has picked up on my news about the Franklin Expedition tragedy, with the encouragement of Lady Franklin and her husband’s niece. I have a strong feeling that he’s out for blood against the Esquimaux, and that he’ll use his pen as a weapon against them.”

  John stretched out his legs towards the fire and crossed one foot over the other. “I suppose Dickens’ writing does have some influence on public opinion.” He frowned. “I’m a bit surprised to hear that he may attack your sources, though, since he purports to care deeply for all humankind, especially those less fortunate.”

  I nodded in agreement. “I fear that his charitable thoughts do not seem to extend beyond white-skinned, English-speaking Christians. He’s a hypocrite, in my opinion. Soon we’ll see if he decides to write about the Franklin story and, if so, what he will have to say about the Esquimaux.”

  “Johnny, have you given some thought to making a claim for the reward money offered by the Admiralty? Regardless of what anyone thinks of the testimony you gathered, you are certainly the man who has earned the reward. No one can take issue with that.”

  “I didn’t earn it alone, you know. I had the help of a hunter who acted as a guide, an excellent interpreter and some others. To answer your question, aye, I did submit a written claim before I left London, and if the money is granted to me, I intend to see to it that those men receive the reward they so richly deserve as well.”

  John thought for a moment. “I’m curious about something. How would the Esquimaux put British currency to use in the regions of Hudson Bay and points west?”

  “Well, the irony of the system is that they would be able to spend the money only at Hudson’s Bay Company depots, to buy such goods as flour, blankets, tobacco, and so on, using currency supplied by the British government,” I said. “There is nowhere else to spend it.”

  He tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “By the way, isn’t it true that Parliament is quite fed up with the Hudson’s Bay Company’s growing land acquisitions in North America?”

  “Aye, the Company has been engaging in some ambitious expansionism in the North and West. As you can well imagine, this does not please Her Majesty at all. Tension has escalated between public and private enterprises, to the point where there is talk about a parliamentary inquiry into the Company’s growing trade monopoly over there.”

  “How extraordinary!” he declared. “An imperialist government which has amassed great wealth as a result of aggressive expansionism around the world feeling threatened by a growing private enterprise, owned and operated abroad by its very own countrymen!”

  “Aye, John,” I said. “The nature of business is rife with strange twists and turns. That’s one of the reasons why I would prefer to move away from Company dealings altogether, as soon as I can. It has all become too political for my liking.

  “I have been thinking about something else,” I added. “I don’t know if it will ever amount to anything, but an idea seems to be taking shape in my mind. I’d like to ask your opinion, if I may.”

  “Of course.”

  “Will you keep what I am about to tell you to yourself, at least for now? I don’t even want Marion to know. Then if nothing comes of it, no one will be the wiser for it.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I have been thinking about going back — ”

  Curious, he leaned forward in his chair. “To the Arctic? To search for more evidence? Surely not for the British Admiralty. With the Company?” He sat back. “Sorry, go on. I interrupted you.”

  “Well, the answer is yes, to look for British encampments in the area suggested by the Esquimaux and no, certainly not with the Royal Navy, even if they were to present an offer to me, which I highly doubt they would. Not necessarily with the Hudson’s Bay Company either, John, because Sir George would surely direct me to attend to a number of other distracting matters along the way. No, if I were ever to go back, I would choose to be the one in charge of the entire enterprise, so the reward money would certainly be useful.

  “While I was at sea on the way here, I sketched some ideas for constructing a sleek and modern ship, an eighty-ton cross between a brigantine and a schooner — yes, a schooner! — with a long-shafted screw propeller and the flexibility to manoeuvre through tight spaces.”

  He looked both surprised and amused by my outburst. “You are serious about this?”

  “Well, it’s only an idea right now, so it’s too early to know if it will happen at all, but the more I toss the notion about, the more I wonder, why not? I could hire a small crew — perhaps six or seven skilled men — and sail the ship to the area, if weather conditions permit. We would carry the proper equipment for disembarking and working on the ice or on land when necessary.”

  He was leaning forward now, resting his elbows on his knees. I trusted John to honour my request for confidentiality, so I took a further step. “While we are on the subject of the Arctic, there is something else I will tell you, for your ears only. I am quite sure I found a section of the missing link in the Northwest Passage during last spring’s expedition. I logged the coordinates, and I have a reasonable idea of how to get there by boat. As you know, I have travelled extensively in that region on snowshoes and on foot, but also by canoe, an inflatable Halkett boat, and even on a 22-foot clinker vessel with lug sails!”

  “But you weren’t aboard a full-sized ship!” he cried. “The history books clearly show that most vessels are either dashed to pieces or swallowed whole in the Arctic…”

  We were both on our feet, now. “Aye, but think about this, John. Maybe they have been the wrong kinds of ships. Not lean or supple enough for moving around obstacles. Not piloted by sailors with the right kind of experience for the job. Remember the Erebus and Terror! Both of them massive gunships, fitted to be floating palaces, but they were stout and clumsy, built for fighting battles at sea, not for hugging the shoreline or manoeuvring through pack ice. And you have seen with your own eyes how well I can handle a boat when the odds are against me.”

  “I’ll give you a point or two on that one, Johnny
. Clestrain Sound… Scapa Flow… what could be more challenging than that?” He chuckled at the thought, but then turned serious. “Well, mountains of ice, perhaps…”

  “The channel I located last April was only lightly frozen, John. The pack ice was blocked by an enormous island to the north, so the ice in that channel was vastly different. Young. Possibly navigable in July.”

  He raised his knee, slapped it and laughed. “I have to give you credit for courage, for even thinking about such an ambitious undertaking. It would be quite an achievement, wouldn’t it? If you were to succeed in solving the mystery of the passage, and if you located the Franklin Expedition encampments, then the knighthood you so richly deserve would surely be offered to you!”

  “It’s too late for that.” I waved my hand dismissively, although I did care very much about being officially recognized for my achievements. Almost every man who had been actively involved in Arctic exploration — including my employer Sir George Simpson — had been knighted by the Queen. Even though I had charted over two thousand miles of Arctic coastline, I was certain the government would never admit a man who had “gone native” to such a hallowed brotherhood. I took pains to disguise the fact that the snub had a sting to it.

  John poured us both another mug of strong tea from the kettle Bessie had left hanging by the fire. “All right, then. Let’s suppose you do collect enough money to build this… this hybrid of a brigantine and schooner — ”

  “More schooner than brigantine,” I interrupted.

  “Schrigantine,” he laughed.

  “Brooner,” I countered.

  “Well, if this project moves ahead, have you thought about what name you might give to the vessel?”

  “Aye, I have. But nothing I’ve come up with so far seems to be just right. I’ve thought of family names… you know, Margaret Glen, Marion. Then there are strong, unsinkable names such as Intrepid, Dauntless, Arctic Fox… do you have any suggestions?”

  “Let’s see… the first thing I think of when I hear the word Arctic is ice. Then snow, cold, polar bears, wind. Wind Lass comes to mind. How does that name sound to you?”