The Pioneer

by Paul Almond

  No, no, he felt bottom, pushed himself up, gasped some air, and went under a second time, hit bottom, and again thrust himself up, this time with his last strength thrusting Agnes out to the spar which in terror she gripped, just before Jim went down for the third time.

  Before losing consciousness, he gave himself to the waves, and then, in shallower water, willing hands pulled him and the girls ashore. Quickly bundled into James Travers’ sleigh, all four sped up the hill to the welcoming fire of the Old Homestead, and safety.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What’s that, for pity’s sake, Poppa?”

  James saw his son eyeing his contraption in the middle of the threshing floor. This Sunday, Jim was hitching Keen in the oxcart to take them to the church service in Port Daniel school. The bridge incident was long forgotten.

  “You’re the one as told me about it, you should know,” James replied. “Montreal stores was full of them, you said, big sellers.”

  “A churn?”

  “Sure is.” James eyed it proudly. “Robins had this one on display, and I got it for Catherine and Hannah. Walter Ross brought it here last week. I kept it hidden to surprise the women.”

  “Well,” his son said uneasily, “it means Momma and Hannah won’t have to wear their arms to the bone every week on that old dash churn?” He scratched his eyebrows.

  “Thought you’d be pleased.” James eyed his son.

  Jim nodded, shrugged. “I am, I am, I guess.”

  “You don’t sound pleased.” Not often James found himself at odds with Jim. He couldn’t understand his reticence.

  “I know I sound like I don’t care but...” Jim stood up and faced him. “You see, Poppa, I been planning all along, since I got home, on getting us a horse.”

  “We can still get us a horse.” James raised his voice; he didn’t like his children getting “lippy” as he called it. “You should —”

  “Should what, Poppa?” Jim cut in. “I mean, I come all the way home, I work to cut them extra logs late this spring to make us some money, and you spend it all on a churn when I’d been counting on getting a horse.”

  “Jim, that’s no way to talk. There’ll be lots of time for a horse.”

  “I told you, I like us getting a churn, but right now we need a horse more. A lot more.”

  “We can do without a horse! A horse is a waste of money!” James shouted, though he didn’t really believe that: his son had just gotten under his skin.

  “Yes, we keep on bumping to church in an oxcart. Well, I can tell you, that is the last time I go down to Port Daniel to hear Reverend Milne, until we get our horse!”

  “You don’t mean...” James found himself roaring, “...you’re taking this out on the Good Lord above?”

  “Missing that awful, never-ending oxcart ride is not taking it out on the Lord, Poppa! And darn right, I’ll miss church. What’s the good anyway? How many people in Montreal go? Only half, if that, and the rest don’t see any need, at all, at all!”

  “They what?”

  “No sir. And matter of fact, I don’t either. Who’s proved there is a God? No one I know. Old Reverend Milne going on about the joys of heaven — what about the joys here below? What about travelling in a horse and buggy? To hell with church. No need, no point, I’m just not going!”

  James stood as if struck.

  * * *

  “But Momma,” Hannah was saying, “I could never do that!”

  “My child, I’m not saying you have to go to any lengths. All you have to do is just bring some of your scones to Ned while he’s at work. Jim will go with you as chaperone.”

  They were taking turns working with the dash churn, up and down, up and down their arms went. Tiring work, pumping that darned handle. The conical barrel, smaller at the top, had a hole through which a round stick, with a crosspiece at the bottom, could be lifted and dropped to beat the cream into butter. They’d take turns every twenty minutes or so and, in about an hour and a half, depending on the temperature of the cream, they had butter. Once a week they did it, but of course, it was well known in Shegouac that if you wanted good, quick butter, you only churned when the tide was rising.

  “In fact, I have a better idea,” Catherine went on. “Say you’re on the way to your sister, Mary Jane, and Dan; they only live a ways beyond. But dress up, mind. You could tell him the scones were for their children.”

  “Well, I don’t see as how there’d be anything wrong exactly.”

  “And then, maybe, you go a second time. And a third.”

  “Momma! That would be terrible! He’d suspect something.”

  “My dear child, you have no idea how stupid men are. They never suspect anything. I’ve lived a long while, and I can tell you, every word I say is true.”

  This very rainy July afternoon, with water bucketing down, Jim was at work repairing the kitchen door. And because the tide was rising, his mother and sister were churning.

  Jim had often wondered how they would know what time of day to churn on the second range, a good mile inland. One day, he had asked old Mrs. Nelson. She told him, “Oh no dear, we don’t have to walk out to the front to check the tide. No siree. We just pick up a cat and look at its eyes.”

  “But Momma, if Jim’s with me, Ned will never say a word — he’ll just talk to Jim.”

  “That’s just because he’s shy, dear. Some men are like that. They’re especially shy around anyone they’ve taken a liking to. And I tell you, at that threshing bee, and then the thickening bee, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Why else do you think he’s building that house?”

  “Because he doesn’t like his stepmother, the whole country knows that, and he wants a place on his own.”

  “You mark my words, no man alive wants to live on his own. They build a house so’s they can put a wife in it. Of course, some of them, they’re so shy, it takes them a few months.”

  “Months, Momma, I can wait months. But years, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “So you just listen to me. I know the way things work.”

  Just then, old James came in with a strange object.

  “Me and Jim, we wanted you to have this!” James announced.

  Catherine looked up at him. “What is it?”

  James shook the rain from his coat. “Newest invention! Jim found out all about them in Montreal. Walter Ross brought it down from Robin’s.”

  Jim could hardly believe that his father, the old rascal, was bringing him into the gift. Though he had to admit, the new-fangled churn was one thing he had raved about after getting back.

  “We kept it hidden so’s me and Jim could surprise you.”

  Catherine stood, astonished, and then rushed over to give her son a powerful hug. James beamed as Hannah rushed to kiss him too, and then switched with her mother, as they both hugged and kissed the men in great delight. Jim saw the present was a huge hit, and of course began to soften.

  “Show them how it works, Jim,” James said. “You’re the one who brought back the idea from the big city.”

  Jim came to sit on his mother’s chair and moved the handle back-and-forth. Effortlessly, the barrel spun round and round. “See? Simple.”

  “We’d better send young Jim to Montreal more often, seeing all the ideas he comes up with!” Catherine exclaimed.

  The two women set about exploring the churn, undoing the top that was ratcheted on, peering inside, looking at the gears that transferred the back-and-forth thrust to the cogs that turned the churn. It whirled so easily!

  “Jim, Poppa,” Hannah cried “you’re the best!”

  * * *

  The first sunny day, Jim set off down the road with Hannah dressed in her best. Edward Hayes, known to everyone as Ned, was building his new house about two and a half miles toward Port Daniel. Their older sister, Mary Jane, lived another half a mile beyond.

  Full of anticipation, Jim allowed that he loved subterfuges, but was a little hurt his mother had not let him in on their plan. He was
waiting, from his overheard conversation, for Hannah to suggest they take a look at Ned’s house.

  Heavy banks of clouds were folded like eiderdowns over the landscape: blue grey, and soft, but heralding no downpour. Their dense, almost velvet covering crept across the sky. A herring gull screamed over the expanse, leaving no mark to say where it came from or where it was going.

  Hannah pulled Jim out of his reverie by shyly saying, “I’ve heard the Hayes family is building a new house. I wonder how she’s gettin’ on?”

  “It’s not the Hayes family, Hannah. It’s Ned.” He was determined to make this hard for her, as part of the fun.

  “Oh,” she said, and lapsed into silence.

  “All the country knows that,” Jim said.

  “Oh,” said Hannah again.

  “I wonder why he’s building it?”

  Hannah shrugged. Jim noticed she was a bit breathless. From the pace of their walk? Or the thought of seeing Ned again.

  After another silence, Hannah said, “I’ve heard he doesn’t get on so well with this new stepmother, that’s why. Nor that stepsister Johanna. But, I don’t know.”

  “If you don’t, no one does,” Jim said with devilry. Then he grinned.

  She slapped at him. “You’re mean.”

  After what seemed to Jim an unbearable silence, they heard hammering across the fields. When Hannah kept silent, he said, “Shall we take a look?”

  Hannah nodded.

  Now if he and Hannah went in together, Ned would not take so much as a look at her. So as they were turning up the path, Jim suggested, “I’ve changed my mind, Hannah, I’ll go straight on. Here, you take the scones.”

  “No-no-no!” she pleaded. “I won’t go alone. Please Jim. Please...”

  “But you told Momma when you were churning, he wouldn’t talk to you if I was there.” He couldn’t stop his grin.

  “Oh you! You listened! You heard us talk!”

  “Of course I heard yez talk. I like the whole idea. All right, if I come in, then Hannah, you offer him them scones you baked. Everyone knows you make the best. That way, you’ll be sure to catch him.”

  Hanna blushed in spite of herself. But what else could she do?

  Ned had gotten the house frame up and was kneeling, pegging rough floor boards to the joists. He stood up when he saw them coming.

  Jim smothered a grin as he saw Ned’s embarrassment; why else did he keep looking down at his feet? “Hello there, Jim.”

  “Hello, Ned. Look who I brought: my sister Hannah. We’re on our way to see Mary Jane, and Dan Bisson. We wanted to see how that house of yours is coming.” He knew that Hannah would be pleased at him taking the lead.

  “I’m glad ye came, Jim, come, take a look-see.” He still had not cast one glance at Jim’s sister, a sure sign. He’d tell Hannah later.

  So while he and Ned talked, Hannah pretended to be interested in the structure, all the while casting glances at Ned. Clean-shaven, slight but wiry and strong, he was not a large man. A good carpenter, Jim observed. He was older than Jim, and had been brought by his parents at the age of two across the bay from Miramichi after the great fire in October 1825, when the whole area had been destroyed. His parents were Catholics from Ireland, but Jim’s parents had discussed that and resolved it, once Catherine had spotted Ned’s attraction.

  “I bet you run that sister of yours ragged, eh Ned, bringing you lunches from your home farm,” Jim remarked innocently.

  “Oh no, I don’t know why, but she never comes.”

  Jim thought, better and better. “So how do you get your lunches?”

  “I bring them m’self.”

  His mind moved fast. “Look now, Hannah brought some scones for Mary Jane’s children. And some other cookies, and stuff. I reckon as how she wouldn’t mind parting with a few, would you, Hannah?”

  Hannah blushed and shook her head. Jim opened his bag and took some out. Hannah quickly pre-empted him, laying a little towel on the rough planks and placing the cookies and scones neatly, with a little mug that Jim was surprised she had brought. In it, she poured a glass of ale from a flagon she had also hidden away. Then she glanced at Jim.

  He stepped into the breach. “Hot day like this...” He covered up his surprise, understanding why the bag he’d been carrying was so heavy, “we thought you might welcome a mug of beer.”

  Ned seemed to relax. “Byes, you don’t know how good that’ll be. Thank you kindly, Jim.” And then, at long last, he looked at Hannah, smoothing his napkin. Jim saw in his eyes a look of such appreciation that again he stifled a smile.

  And then, the devil took hold of him. “Well, you know, Ned, Hannah here agreed to take care of the kids while Mary Jane’s off looking after Dan’s mother down in Port Daniel.” Would Hannah know enough to play along? A sidelong glance told him she’d turned her back. “So when she comes past every day, I could get her to drop in, bring you some stuff she cooked.”

  “Thank you kindly!” Ned exclaimed, not even trying to hide his delight. Hannah whirled and looked at Jim. He looked right back.

  She turned away. “We’d best be going, Jim,” she said clearly, her first words spoken. “Charley, Dannie, and John, they’ll be waiting.”

  The two of them set off. Jim was delighted with this first encounter, though he wondered how pleased Hannah would be. And as it turned out, she ended up being mighty pleased as well.

  Chapter Fifteen: Winter 1855

  “No no no no no!” John Travers, rather distinguished with a beard and prosperous bearing, slapped the table. The Traverses were leading figures in the community, having settled up by a road back to the Second, known as Travers Lane.

  “Could you make that a bit clearer?” asked James, and they all laughed. This snowy midwinter evening, the prospective school trustees had not been able to agree on anything, in spite of James doing his best. Even the school idea itself was still far from being approved. James had picked January for this meeting because summers the settlers worked from dawn to dusk, no energy left for anything but pure survival on this harsh but fruitful coast of the Gaspé. Although Jim had been working hard to support his father among the community since coming home last spring, only the older members of the community spoke at such gatherings, and Jim had to sit, inwardly seething but silent.

  “Well gentlemen, next item: how much shall we charge each student?” asked James. “Always supposing we do decide to build. I gather from Mr. Travers’s reaction that we don’t favour mandatory allotments of men and materials.” He glanced around. “Perhaps that’s only right, we should let everyone give whatever they feel like. But fees for students, well, we will have to charge.”

  They looked at one another. “How much do they charge up in Paspébiac?” asked John Travers.

  “I heard it was a shilling.” Andrew Young, related to the Alfords through his brother William’s wife Ann, Jim’s sister, had become a fence sitter about the school. In contrast Thomas Byers, sitting next to him, was known to be in favour. “A shilling a month?”

  “Nearer two shillings, I heard.” Somewhat prim but well organized, Edward Legallais had been asked to be secretary treasurer, if the school motion passed. “Seems we’d better wait a bit.”

  “Wait a bit?” broke in Andrew. “You know how fellas is. If we tell everyone we’re not gonna charge, and after, we ask for fees, it’ll be too late. Tell ’em right away. I can order the stovepipes you need, but my suppliers won’t wait too long to be paid.” Andrew was thinking about setting up a store. So far, if you wanted molasses, or salt, farmers here had to take a sleigh across the Nouvelle River up to Hope or down to Port Daniel.

  “Well,” said Thomas, “why don’t you give stovepipes instead of fees? You’ll have three children coming.”

  “I already offered yez pencils and paper, and maybe a few books. That’s about as far as I’m willing to go till I know what is happening. We won’t be having this school anyway, I’m damned sure.”

  “How can we set a fee?”
asked Edward. “Or even think of building, until we know if we’re getting that fifty pounds from the superintendent of education?”

  James grinned: perfect time to produce the letter. “Gentlemen, I’ve already written, and the superintendent says we’ll get the same grant as others in Hopetown, or down in Port Daniel.” He held it out.

  That did set a silence about the table, while Thomas Byers thumped it happily and downed his piggin of beer. “Best news yet!”

  “Hold on now,” Mr. Travers broke in, “will us trustees have to give more, even though we don’t have no children at the school?”

  “Fair enough question.” James could see a real argument coming up. Donations had been discussed, and so far, he presumed that families would end up giving their time, and perhaps modest donations of wood, shingles, nails, pegs, even barking as insulation. So he headed this one off. “Why don’t we stick to the question of fees?” The others nodded.

  “We can always come down in fees,” Andrew proposed, “but sure is hard to get them back up after. This first year, I say we pass a resolution now setting it at two shillings.”

  “I second that,” said Edward.

  “All in favour?” James asked.

  They all nodded. “So ordered.” James motioned to the secretary, Edward, who made a note. Well, that was one agreement. Perhaps now he should try and bring up that burning question, the one key to it all: “So are we far enough ahead now that we can get a resolution voted to say go ahead with this here school?”

  “Far enough?” John Travers let out a snort. “We just got a start on saying it’s not gonna work, that’s as far as we got! No further.”

  “I second that,” said Edward. “I agreed to join this here discussion committee, and before I knew it, I was a trustee, and then secretary! I don’t know how you work, James, but yer as cute as a fox, and from my point of view —”

  “Oh he’s cute all right,” Andrew agreed, which they knew meant clever, “but there was nothing wrong in us discussing it, for sure. If we end up with no school, everyone will see we did our best, we went over everything, that’s what’s important.”