Reflections in the Wake

by James Spurr

“It appears, Marie,” James noted with great satisfaction, “as we having missed the first of those dates, my family will meet my intended tomorrow!”

  Marie was pleased and looked forward to the occasion. Later, as they said goodnight, James explained how wonderful he felt having finally asked a question he had wanted to put for some time. Marie asked, “What kept you?”

  He replied, “I thought it only fair to show you where we were going before asking you to remain.” James of course intended the sentiment to reflect sincere consideration for Marie and her happiness.

  As she held him close, she lowered her head to his shoulder and lovingly scolded, “How can a captain who sets the course so miss the obvious direction?”

  James pulled her away slightly to look in her eyes, his expression inquiring as to his offense.

  Marie explained, “We should forever speak of our love as having nothing to do with geography!”

  Both of them had come to realize, while she lived in Newport and he sailed for South America, that while geography was a fact which for them more than others seemed to change frequently, their love was an emotion and purpose for which they had been born. The deep need James felt as loneliness when sitting as one at a table for two at the Piazza San Marco, had in part been filled by Marie’s very presence. So too with Marie, no longer seeing any need or point to wandering from one city to the next, all of them traumatized by a generation of war in Europe.

  As James nodded in acknowledgment of her point while still holding her close, Marie emphasized, “With you as a merchant master on these inland seas, we will need to consider our commitment as something well different from our location.”

  James freed her from his embrace and assured, “Who knows, Marie? You may find yourself aboard and accompanying me quite often.”

  She nodded and smiled slightly at that thought as a real possibility, emphasizing for her the signs of a partnership between them that was rare for the culture of the time.

  At that moment, however, both recalled their conversation of the afternoon before. James had attempted to characterize the Great Lakes and frontier life. James wondered whether his caution had been overstated. Neither spoke of it as they parted for the night.

  Both drifted to sleep in their respective rooms symbolizing independence each would soon willingly forego, considering what they had gained and what they might encounter in the coming months and years. James knew that his loneliness, however, as he felt before meeting Marie was distinct from a more subtle emptiness, which most recently was reflected in his depiction of the Great Lakes as a hard land of long memories.

  Marie acknowledged to herself, that James had sadly, in describing the Great Lakes, very likely ‘read the horizon’ with deep perception and accuracy of great vision. His cautions to her were more of a prediction than either could then imagine.

  * * *

  Mary and Bemose hoped James and Marie would arrive on the winter solstice, but a storm delivering more freezing rain than fresh snow swept up from the south. The storm postponed their scheduled departure from Detroit and delayed their arrival at Oliver’s home.

  The Williams family of Oakland County, including Bemose and Wasebitong, sent word to the two families invited, their closest neighbors, that the planned wedding lacked a bride, a groom and a priest, and while both families were still welcomed, the event would likely occur on December 23. Ephrium assured them he or his younger brother would bring word as soon as plans were certain.

  As nightfall arrived the following day, both Mary and Bemose stood at the parlor window and looked down the road. Oliver was reading his Bible by the fire and lamplight, the younger children occupied themselves with books, small games and the middle daughter, her sketch pad. Ephrium was visiting Ellen Carter, the daughter of their neighbor whom he was courting, and Wasebitong was in the barn, fashioning a new set of reins for his horse.

  Mary was clearly excited. “Just think what a grand celebration! Who would have imagined your correspondence with Marie would ever result in a wedding in our home!”

  Bemose nodded and admitted the welcome although unforeseen set of events she had set in motion, “I always liked Marie from her letters, seeming so independent. I would have regarded it a near miracle would she have located James, never thinking she would leave Europe for the Michigan frontier.”

  Mary detected a note of hesitation. “And now having met her?”

  Bemose assured, “Oh, now more than ever. Certainly she impressed me in Detroit and seems to genuinely love James and make him happy. I also thanked God for his resignation from the Navy and his return to the Great Lakes…”

  Mary knew her too well, “However…?”

  Oliver looked up from his Bible and admonished softly, “Mary, now, do not pry or sow doubt.”

  She defended, “I have no doubt, husband, but I have known my sister-in-law for now fifteen years and you would do well to concentrate on your verse and leave women to their conversation.”

  Both Oliver and Bemose smiled slightly, knowing it better to withdraw as resist Mary’s curiosity.

  Both women looked out the window as the light faded. Bemose admitted softly as a gust of wind caused the nearby pines to sway, “The more I learn of her experiences in France, viewed in light of the manner in which she handles everyday situations, makes me wonder…”

  Bemose hesitated, not sure how to articulate her concern. Mary knew her point must be subtle, given her gift with language.

  A few moments later, Bemose employed an Ojibwa phrase with which Mary was unfamiliar. Bemose recognized the false start, not yet having communicated with Mary that which was still forming in her mind and used the native phrase to help her, literally, translate a phrase more in use by one culture than by the other.

  Bemose looked at Mary and concluded, “Marie takes comfort, at times, not from what she is told, but only from what she knows first hand. She appears to need to confirm that which most of us are willing to accept without… verification.”

  Mary had never noted the quirk, at most regarding it as a cautious personality trait in what was generally an adventurous spirit. She turned back to the window and her expression changed from puzzlement to joy. “Look, here comes the wagon now from St. Anne’s, with James, Marie and Father Renaurd.”

  Mary exclaimed to Oliver, “We shall host a wedding on the ‘morrow!”

  Oliver rose, opened the door, strode out onto the porch without a coat and called, “Welcome! Come inside and…” taking a bag from James, helping Marie down from the wagon, offered “thank you, Father, for making the trip from Detroit for this wedding!”

  Bemose quietly added, intended for herself, but overheard by Mary, “Between one who cannot forgive to one who cannot trust.”

  The introductions in Detroit had gone well. Oliver, Mary and Bemose arrived late in the day but stayed through the next. Over meals and walks and through polite conversation, sharing stories by way of background and history, James was cordial to Oliver, as his good manners, patience and professionalism as a naval captain sometimes required. Oliver reminisced with respect to the old days aboard Friends Good Will, when James, a young Mate, stood so many watches with Oliver and taught him much as they sailed the length of the upper lakes below Saint Mary’s falls. And while their paths rarely crossed during the Erie campaign, the summer of ’13, Oliver was aboard Friends Good Will once again for special moments as that fateful day of the Battle of Lake Erie came to a close. James could not deny the deep bonds which formed and the memories were strong. James also respected Oliver’s service, attaining the rank of Major in the Army and would have offered a bear hug rather than a handshake, were it not for the Rush-Bagot Treaty.

  But the subject of peace did not arise amid memories of war. Oliver was most interested in the voyage of Lexington and the funeral of Perry and shared fully in the esteem accorded Perry as a national hero. James and Oliver focused upon their common understandings and did not but briefly mention the absence among them of “Capta
in William.”

  Wasebitong did not make the earlier trip to Detroit. As an adolescent, Bemose was not surprised that he preferred to have remained at the Williams farm with his cousins. But she knew his summer at the Sault had influenced his views and the cultural ties he now felt with the Kitchigamig Anishinabeg were very strong. Rather than pull Wasebitong to Detroit and perhaps face her greatest fear, Bemose allowed the reunion between he and his brother to be forestalled until what she soon learned was an upcoming wedding.

  That evening in the parlor, in full view of the Williams family and Father Renaurd, James met his half brother. Bemose brought him in from the kitchen, when he returned from the barn, having seen to the wagon and assisted with the team. “James,” she began hesitantly, “meet your brother, Wasebitong.”

  The two stood perhaps four feet from one another. James was surprised that while young, his brother clearly had inherited the height found within Bemose’s family and at just 13, Wasebitong was already slightly taller than James. He was good looking and a slight suggestion with the manner in which his lips parted brought to mind a feature found in both Bemose and Marie, likely the genetic trace of a particular Jesuit and the Lapointe line common to their past. Both were fit, although from the set of his work clothes, James could tell his brother was lean and muscular.

  James smiled and began to extend his hand, but nearly instantly recognized the gesture would be too formal and perhaps misread as a cultural statement. Wasebitong’s face was as constant as stone, but his eyes soft and alert and as James reached out to grasp his brother’s shoulder, offering, “It has been much too long,” the much younger man corrected in his own mind his lifelong assumption that his brother would be wrapped in the uniform of the United States Navy.

  Wasebitong did not back away but allowed James to grasp his shoulder. He stepped closer and nodded politely, uttering barely, “Hello and welcome.”

  It was an awkward beginning, made worse however, not by the two brothers, but by Oliver interjecting, “This is George,” which was Wasebitong’s white Christian name, given by his father.

  Bemose looked at Oliver with regret, Wasebitong with something like disdain, James with doubt and Marie with confusion. “George” in particular was at the time a very political name, often used by Americans in honor of their founding father and first president. It was also often used by British subjects, as a gesture of respect and demonstration of loyalty to their King. To Wasebitong, it was offensive in both contexts, to Bemose it offered a distant memory of William who had, in actuality, abandoned the name for his son by the time Wasebitong had learned to walk. All wondered whether Oliver was intending to minimize Wasebitong’s native heritage, sentiment as would have been unusual for anyone of the Williams family, generally tolerant of racial distinctions.

  The reference was ignored, but James saw the flash in his brother’s eyes. James knew not the history behind “George,” but clearly, his brother was offended by a name which James could only conclude would signify a cultural affinity with his white lineage, although dominant by way of percentage.

  James tested the water with a comment, “Last I saw you, Bemose was able to strap you to a back board!” referring to the manner in which Ojibwa mothers often carried their very young.

  Wasebitong responded, “And now, many years later a warrior of Shin-Gaa-Bo-Wossin.”

  “Warrior?” James asked.

  Bemose interjected, “Shin-Gaa-Bo-Wossin is a Chief, well known at the Sault, and an advocate for peace.”

  Wasebitong further explained, “Some of his band, however, fought in the war at Mackinaw.”

  James understood the implication. The only natives fighting at Mackinaw were aligned with the British. He wondered whether his brother was testing him with a provocation. His face flushed just a bit and he tried to change the subject while continuing the conversation, “I understand from Bemose you summered at the Sault.”

  “Yes, I learned much and wished I could have gone with several, along with Shin-Gaa-Bo-Wossin, to Fond du Lac.”

  Bemose explained, “I am not yet ready for him to undertake such travels alone, and I know he wanted to meet you.”

  James was certain Wasebitong was in southern Michigan instead of Wisconsin only as a consequence of his devotion and obedience to his mother. James pretended, however, to appreciate Wasebitong’s presence as a reflection of his preference, “I am pleased you made the effort. I look forward to coming to know you as a brother.”

  Not until the next morning, during a walk, did James and Marie have an opportunity to talk privately. Marie confessed her interest in meeting Wasebitong. James confirmed for her, knowing her real interest, “He is proud of his heritage and as full of himself as many a midshipman or young topman. I take no offense from a mere boy, but I detect he may not endorse what I represent.” He thought another moment before adding, “I believe he nearly corrected me when I called him ‘brother’. He seemed ready to utter ‘half’ but for Bemose pulling him aside to talk to Father Renaurd.”

  Marie only offered, “Perhaps you can cause him to change his mind as he comes to know you.”

  James shrugged, not overly concerned, though inwardly somewhat annoyed at the attitude displayed by his younger brother, “Perhaps, with cause to hope that with time, he will grow up.”

  It was too early to determine if culture or the indiscretion of youth played the larger role in what was at best a tentative start.

  By mid afternoon, with a large family having taken turns through the day bathing and dressing in their Sunday best and with neighbors calling as weather and bad roads allowed, Marie donned an emerald green dress bought in Newport for the occasion of meeting the Williams family, and now having shifted its purpose upon her assent to marry. James wore a black suit and a waistcoat and stock of dark green adding color for Marie.

  Flurries throughout the morning subsided and the sun broke through just as Marie descended the stairs and stood next to James before the fireplace.

  The room began to quiet, Father Renaurd was about to begin. Wasebitong quietly entered the back of the room from the kitchen door. He was dressed in full ceremonial attire, reserved for the most special occasions among the people. His clothing was adorned with artistic design, embellished with accessories of bones, elegant feathers and coordinated colors. The clothing had, in part, been given him at the Sault, with many of the accessories having been achieved or made by him and together represented his merit among the Bahweting.

  In the sudden silence of the room at his entrance, his youth caused him an undue degree of self awareness. Bemose understood his gesture as one of respect, and his effort engendered within her a sense of pride, not in their native heritage, but in him as a sensitive young man trying to live by a code of a society in crisis, having developed a rich culture.

  Marie knew that few of them owned such traditional dress any longer and his effort in assembling the intricate pieces was impressive and a surprise to even her. His cousins were amazed, some of the neighbors uncomfortable, but James and Marie simply turned to Father Renaurd and nodded for him to begin.

  The service and the dinner which followed was one of the happiest occasions as yet experienced in what was a happy frontier home. Later that evening, James offered, with Marie on his arm, “I would like to thank you, Wasebitong, for your effort in showing such respect for our wedding.”

  Wesebitong replied, “You are welcome.” He then offered, “This design,” pointing to stitching on his forearm sleeves, “I created in honor of Tecumseth, who in the war…”

  James nodded, “Yes, I am aware of him; a great native leader. I saw him, actually, on one occasion…,” letting his voice trail off.

  Wasebitong asked, “Where?” excited for any anecdote of one he so admired. Marie leaned to inspect the design more closely, which Wasebitong seemed to appreciate.

  Too late to recover or change the subject, James looked at his brother and said softly, “At the Thames.”

  Wasebitong�
�s eyes went cold. He asked no further questions. He pulled his sleeve from Marie’s close inspection and retreated to the kitchen. James knew he had caused offense. Marie did not understand.

  James explained the conversation to Bemose. Marie assured her the reference was not intended to cause any hurt. Oliver admitted to both James and Bemose that he had not ever told Wasebitong of their experiences in the war.

  But nonetheless, the facts were unavoidable. James was on the field, with Oliver, when Tecumseth fell in battle and native hopes for a confederation, or for hopes of any one of the sovereign native nations long surviving the war between Britain and the United States, evaporated with the rise of Tecumseth’s departing soul.

  James was not in a uniform the day of his wedding, but in a very real sense, his brother was. James had inadvertently but directly linked himself, in some small way, to the defeat of the Ojibwa as a people.

  James and Marie left for Detroit the following day with Father Renaurd, all three needing to return in time to both say and attend Christ’s Mass. With no time to repair the relationship with his brother, James left trusting in Bemose.

  Of the three attending Christ’s Mass at St. Anne’s, having attended the wedding two days before, James was present more in body than spirit. A vague emptiness caused by long memories so prevalent in the Great Lakes left his few prayers vastly outnumbered by those persons from his past, like he, who were as yet unforgiven.

  The day after James and Marie returned to Detroit, Bemose asked Oliver to speak with Wasebitong. They found him in the barn, finishing the reins and thinking about his return to the Sault.

  Oliver began with an apology, both to disarm and make his point, “I am sorry about my reference to George, your Christian name.”

  Wasebitong nodded an acceptance and would have been content to leave the matter.

  Oliver continued, “Do you know why your father chose the name?”

  Bemose smiled at the memory. Wasebitong was hesitant but cautiously admitted, “I do not. Was not your first president of that name?”