A Ribbon of Shining Steel

by Julie Lawson

  When the stern-wheeler stopped at a landing in the middle of nowhere — with only a couple of buildings — my heart dropped and I asked Mama, “Is that Yale?” She did not know. But then a passenger — Mr. Bailey, who works at the Hudson Bay Store — told us that Yale was another mile and a half up the river and we were stopping at the Powder Magazine to unload explosives.

  Mama was clearly horrified. I remember her saying, “We have been travelling on a steamer packed with EXPLOSIVES?”

  The man merely shrugged and said that A.O. — that is what everyone calls Andrew Onderdonk — needed explosives to blast out tunnels for his railway and this was the only way he could get them here.

  A short time later we came in sight of Yale. Great Godfrey! The town swarmed like an anthill with throngs of people — all of them here to build the railway — and freight wagons moving back and forth.

  And buildings! There were five hotels on Front Street alone! And all new because of a recent fire. Mr. Bailey said that Yale was an “up-and-coming town with a prosperous future” — or something like that. Mama said it looked like a rough town without a trace of Gentility.

  This was true! For when we got off the steamboat a group of children ran out from behind a building and threw pine cones at my brothers and me and shouted, “Smarty boots, proudy hoops!” I later discovered that Rachel Perkins was amongst them and so were Rusty Schroeder and his sister Clara, and his friend Finch, but at the time I saw them as a bunch of horrid little ruffians and I wanted to return to Ottawa that very minute. But then I spotted Papa. I was so happy to see him I forgot about Ottawa and ruffians and everything else in the world.

  Papa gave us a quick tour of Yale on the way to our house. There were two streets running parallel with the river, and a few cross streets. Now, as I look out my window, I see it is pretty much the same. On Front Street there is the Railway office, the Express and Stage Line, hotels and saloons and warehouses and stores — like Schroeder’s Butcher Shop (Rusty’s father’s) and the Chemist Shop that is presently waiting for a new owner. Behind Front Street there is Douglas Street and our church, St. John the Divine, that was built for the miners during the Gold Rush over twenty years ago.

  The day we arrived, Papa pointed out everything and gave long explanations. First, in the east end of town — Chinatown, the Indian community, railway shops under construction, the great Cariboo Wagon Road that was built by the Royal Engineers so that supplies could get up to the gold-mining towns and so on and so forth. Mercy McGinnis! I was too overwhelmed to take it all in — except for Clair’s Bakery and Confectionery where we stopped for lemon sticks.

  After that we went to the west end of town. It is very pretty, with houses and flower gardens and orchards. And at last we circled back and came to our new house — up behind Douglas Street and close to the Accident Hospital and St. John’s.

  We had a grand time exploring our house. I still remember Mama’s excitement when she discovered the brand new, huge black cooking range in the kitchen. You would think she had discovered a gold mine. What I liked the best — and still do — is the cottonwood tree that grows outside my bedroom window, especially in the spring when the buds smell like honey.

  Our house is bigger than the one we left in Ottawa, but not as big as Mr. Onderdonk’s. He has a grand house west of here, not far from the Powder Works Factory. He comes from New York and I suppose he deserves a mansion, since he is in charge of building the entire Pacific Section of the railway. Papa says that A.O. is very clever and a top-notch organizer. Everything he needs for the railway, he builds himself. He needs rolling stock and special cars to transport building materials and to carry out inspections, so he sets up a Machine Shop and Car Shop to build them. Since we came to Yale, he has built a Powder Works Factory to make explosives, so he no longer has to bring them on the steamer. He has also built a Turn Table and Round House with three stalls for Locomotive Engines. He does not do all this himself, of course. He has drillers and carpenters, machinists and blacksmiths, and men of all trades. And he does not build the locomotives, he buys them from the United States.

  Papa often says he is proud to be a Bridge Foreman working for a contractor like A.O. Well, I hope A.O. is proud to have my Papa working for him.

  Now my fingers are cramped from writing so much about nothing — except Past History.

  Later

  I’ve been following my Pledge to the letter, especially since Princess Louise will soon be here. It amuses my brothers to see me gliding from room to room with a book on my head. Toby dares me to use Mama’s massive Pilgrim’s Progress rather than my thin volume of poetry but I steadfastly refuse. Pilgrim’s Progress weighs more than I do. And I can’t be gracious with a broken neck.

  I often catch Mama shaking her head as if to say, What is happening to our Kate?

  I admit this ladylike behaviour is an enormous strain.

  Mercy Mackerel! The lamp is smoking dreadfully. I’d best blow it out before I go blind.

  LESSON LEARNED: Clean the chimney and replace the wick so Mama will not have to remind me again.

  Now it is 10 oClock and time for bed.

  Sunday, September 17

  Took a walk upriver with Mama. Saw Indians at every bend catching salmon in dip nets and drying them in the sun. They were drying huckleberries, too.

  Mama stopped to admire an enormous, freshly caught salmon. “That’s twenty-five pounds if it’s an ounce,” she said — and the next thing I knew, the Indians had sold her the whole thing for a penny a pound. Mama was pleased, considering the price of mutton is fifteen cents a pound.

  At first I thought we would have to carry the salmon home. But the Indians said they’d clean it and deliver it to our door. And they did. So now we have a huge headless salmon stinking up the house.

  Toby informed us that since Papa is back at camp, the four of us would have to eat about six pounds each before it spoiled. Mama told him to stop talking and get it into the ice box.

  Boiled salmon and dressed cucumbers for supper.

  Monday, September 18

  I have a new friend and her name is Anne Swanson. She is very pale and thin — but pretty — with blue eyes and hair so fair it looks white. She suffers from anemia, which means poverty of the blood. Her father is the new owner of the Chemist Shop.

  Anne comes from Winnipeg and she is in the Fourth Reader like me. Now our school has sixteen girls and twenty-six boys.

  Today at lunch I saw Rusty and Finch take Anne’s lunch pail and run off to the boys’ outhouse. It made me so cross I threw all my hard-earned Social Graces out the window and ran straight in after them — much to everyone’s horror — and yelled, “Give me that, you great big bullies!” And I snatched Anne’s lunch pail before they had a chance to dump its contents down the hole. Poor little Oliver Kustner was squirming by the other hole, desperate for me to get out. He need not have worried, as I did not want to linger.

  Anne was crying in the corner of the schoolyard and I gave her her lunch pail. Then I got my own lunch and we ate together under the willows. I tried to cheer her up — told her she is very lucky she has a school to go to. I arrived in Yale in late September, 1880, after the old school burnt down. It was ten months before they started to build a new one, and all that time we had no proper classes. Papa said if ignorance were bliss, the children in Yale must be the happiest in the country. Anne couldn’t help but smile when I told her that.

  I also told her that Mama made sure we kept up with our lessons, in spite of our grumbling. She even made us read Pilgrim’s Progress. But the worst thing about having no school was that I never had a chance to make friends. The only time I saw other girls was at Church or in town, and they were all too old or too young to be Best Friends. Except for Rachel who was too mean, but only at first. I used to cry buckets, I was that homesick for our house in Ottawa and my Best Friend, Mary Beth.

  Then when the new school was ready and I thought, Hurray!, there was an outbreak of scarlet fever and all
the children in town were kept at home. Mama would not even let us go outside our gate. But finally, last October, we got to go to school.

  Anne said, “I bet the boys weren’t mean to you.”

  HA! I told her about my first week, when two big boys — who later moved away from Yale, thank goodness — kept throwing my lunch down the hole. They said if I told, they would throw me down, too. Well, my brothers found out and threw away their lunches instead. That cheered Anne up! Then Teacher rang the bell and we went inside.

  After school, Anne asked if I had a Best Friend. I told her all about Rachel and she asked if I would be her Best Friend, as long as Rachel was in Spuzzum. I said I would be pleased as punch. And I am! Anne is nine months younger than me but she is the only girl in school who is closest to my age and in the same Reader.

  Anne is very lucky, she has two little sisters, Charlotte and Rose. I wish my sisters were still alive. Marian would be eleven years old and Laura would be ten. If they had not died, I’d never have to worry about moving to a new place and making new friends. I’d never be lonely. I’d be like Toby and Andrew, who always have each other.

  My sisters died a long time ago, of scarlet fever, only 2 weeks apart. I was too little to remember — only that Mama cried and cried and hugged me so hard it hurt.

  I’m happy to have Anne for a friend. I also feel a bit anxious — because what if she moves away like Rachel? Or what if we have to move again? Mama says, “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” But sometimes I just can’t help it. Now I am all the more determined to be ladylike so I won’t be banished to Angela College.

  For supper tonight we had boiled salmon with curry sauce.

  Tuesday, September 19

  Blasting! My head aches.

  Toby said he wants to quit school and work for the railway. He says it would be thrilling to climb the cliffs and dangle from ropes and set explosives. I said, “When they take you into the Hospital we can see your brains.”

  Andrew said, “No fear of that.”

  Later

  A smelly chore today. I helped Mama prepare collared salmon by rolling up pieces of fish (once she’d removed the bones), tying them firmly and laying them in the kettle. Then we covered them with vinegar and boiling water and let them simmer.

  For supper we naturally had collared salmon. Andrew told us that salmon is “brain food” and offered Toby his remaining 5½-pound share.

  Poor Toby. He is one year older than me but only in the Third Reader.

  Wednesday, September 20

  Salmon cutlets for supper. Mama says we’re looking smarter already.

  Thursday, September 21

  Princess Louise will be here in 10 days! She is presently in Victoria with her husband, the Governor General, but after Victoria they are going across the Strait to New Westminster, then up the Fraser River to Emory and then on to Yale by train. I wonder what Princess Louise will think of our Canyon.

  Teacher says Princess Louise is the first member of the Royal Family to visit this part of the Empire, so it is a Very Great Occasion.

  Anne and I are determined to think of something special to give the Princess. But Great Godfrey, she must have everything.

  After school today I went to the Sentinel and Mr. Hagan let me “play the devil” — which means I acted as his apprentice! I smeared the face of the type with greasy black printer’s ink, then shoved the roller back and forth across the type. Then I helped him fold and address the papers. I offered to help deliver them to his customers, but he said he liked to distribute the goods himself. Except for our copy, which he let me bring home.

  In the excitement of the day I completely forgot my Pledge to act ladylike. I ran like a wild thing and failed to hide my exuberance. And when Mama saw my ink-stained hands, horrors! Out came the lemon juice. Scrub, scrub, scrub until the skin was peeling. No grumbling, though. Not when I am about to meet a Princess.

  Friday, September 22

  I wish Papa were a gold miner like Mr. Stout across the river. He is giving his little girls, Margaret and Mary, some gold specimens and they are going to present one to His Excellency the Governor General and the other to Princess Louise. The card will say “from the youngest miners in British Columbia.”

  Anne and I cannot think of a present. Andrew says he’ll shoot us a grouse and we can give the feathers. Anne found this very funny but Andrew wasn’t joking. His room is full of feathers. Not merely from the game he shoots, but feathers he finds in the woods. Some of them are very pretty. But not worthy of a Princess.

  Papa came home in time for supper. He ate three large helpings of potted salmon — hurray! fewer pounds left for us! — and two helpings of apple pie. Then he lit his pipe and leaned back to tell us the railway news. He says the progress is very slow because there is so much tunnelling and rock cutting and blasting to be done, and the Wagon Road is in such a terrible state the supplies cannot get through, and there is always the unexpected, like yesterday, when tons of rock fell on the track near Sailor’s Bluff and had to be cleared.

  I soon got bored with railway problems and Wagon Road problems but I remembered my Social Graces and pretended to be interested by saying nothing, nodding as if in agreement and smiling often. I also sat up straight and tall without a book on my head. No Angela College for me! I was already the height of Refinement and Grace.

  I thought I was succeeding admirably. Until Andrew said my head would roll off if I didn’t stop bobbing it and Toby told me to stop pulling faces. Papa stopped talking railway and asked if I was feeling all right.

  Mercy Mackerel! I wanted to say, “Here I am, turning over a new leaf so you won’t banish me to Victoria, and no one even notices!” Instead, I pleaded a headache and asked to be excused.

  I’m growing weary of the struggle to be “Lady Kate.” Is this what Princess Louise has to go through? Or does a Princess naturally act like a Princess without any effort?

  The good news about today is that Papa said he would take me to Spuzzum next month to see Rachel. I hope the road is in good repair by then. I can be the real Kate with Rachel. She is every bit as wild as I am — even more so, in Mama’s opinion.

  Almost forgot — the Skuzzy is still trying to make it through Hell’s Gate. Mr. Onderdonk now plans to pull the steamboat through the rapids using Chinese workers. They’ll line up on both sides of the river and pull on ropes attached to the boat. The railway will be happy because when the Skuzzy makes it, it can carry supplies between Boston Bar and Lytton. And I will be happy because I will not have to listen to any more talk about the Skuzzy.

  Saturday, September 23

  Spent the morning helping Mama preserve more collared salmon. But this time we put it in wide-mouthed jars and added more vinegar to preserve it. So we will not have to eat it all at once. Mama says we’ll appreciate the taste come January. I think not.

  Went to Yale Creek with Toby and Andrew and caught six trout. Nothing tastes as good as fresh trout, certainly not collared or potted or boiled salmon. Andrew suggested we give Princess Louise a trout. When I told him he had no respect, he said, “Don’t fret, Louise, I’d gut it first.” At least he calls me Louise.

  On the way home I had an idea so I went straight to Anne’s house and said, “Let’s give the Princess some jade!”

  At first she gave me a blank look, but when I told her that jade is a precious stone and it is found in the Fraser River, she said, “That is a splendid idea!” So tomorrow afternoon, if we are allowed, we are going to look for jade.

  Anne wasn’t the least bit eager when I said we could cast for trout at the same time. Fishing? Horrors! She cannot believe I bait my own hooks and gaff the fish when I reel them in. She says there will be snow in July before she does such gruesome things. It is obvious she does not have brothers. Or maybe it is the anemia that makes her squeamish.

  Sunday, September 24

  Church this morning. All through Rev. Horlock’s sermon we heard explosions — and railway cars clang-cl
anging through town as loudly as usual. Mama says it is a disgrace that Sunday is no longer a day of rest. At least we have a rest from school.

  Mama wanted me to stay home this afternoon and “behave like Sunday,” but I pleaded with her to let me find some jade for the Princess — she’ll be here in just over a week. I promised Mama I would think Sunday thoughts the whole way and sing hymns when I got home and read extra passages from the Bible, so she finally said I could go.

  Anne had a time convincing her mother and her father — he doesn’t work on Sundays, not like Papa — but they eventually relented and we set off after lunch.

  The Wagon Road was so busy we nearly got run over — first by the Express, then by a ten-yoke ox team hauling freight, then by two pack trains of mules.

  We reached the jade spot and I was about to start down the bank when Anne grabbed my arm and said, “We can’t go down there! There’s a camp with Chinamen!”

  I was astonished, not only by her words but by the look of horror on her face. I could not imagine why that would upset her. When I told her they were there all the time, just two men mining jade and minding their own business, she fair near hit the roof. “You knew? And you failed to tell me?” She said she never would have come had she known. Her mother would not have allowed it. She’d heard that hundreds of Chinese had died of smallpox and we would catch it for sure. Or else we would be murdered the minute our backs were turned.