South from Hudson Bay: An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys

by Ethel C. Brill

  VI TOILING UP STREAM

  Things did go better next day, as the guide had foretold. What he hadsaid to Murray in that early morning talk, no one learned, but thesteersman attempted no more kicks and blows. He took his revenge uponthose who had complained of him by riding in the boat all day, devotinghis whole time and attention to steering. Not once did he touch thetow-line, Louis taking his place. All the men, except the two voyageurs,were lame and muscle sore from the unaccustomed work, but they weregradually learning the trick of it. In comparison with trained rivermen,they made slow time, but they got along better than on the day before. ToWalter it was a great relief to be freed from Murray's brutality. He wason his mettle to show the steersman that just as good progress could bemade without him.

  On the fourth day of the journey a fork in the stream was reached, wherethe Shamattawa and the Steel rivers came together to form the Hayes.There Murray and Louis took down the mast and threw it overboard. Therewould be no more sailing for a long way, Louis explained.

  Up the winding course of the Steel the boats were hauled laboriously. Thebanks were higher than those of the Hayes, but less steep, affording abetter tow-path. In appearance the country was far more attractive thanthe low, flat desolation around Fort York, and the woods were at theirbest in full autumn color. Utterly wild and lonely was this savage land,but by no means devoid of beauty. It seemed to the Swiss immigrants,however, that they were but going farther and farther from allcivilization. Towns and farms, the homelike dwellings of men, seemedalmost as remote as though on some other planet.

  Walter was surprised to see so little game in the wilderness, until herealized that the constant talking, laughing, and shouting back and forthmust frighten every bird and beast. Wild creatures could not be expectedto show themselves to such noisy travelers. Only the "whiskey-johneesh,"as Louis called the bold and thievish Canada jays, dared to cry out atthe passing boats and come about the camps to watch for scraps.

  Just as the Swiss were growing used to the labor of the tow-rope, theywere given a new task, portaging. Below the first really bad rapid, theboat was beached, everyone was ordered ashore, and the cargo unloaded.The traders' custom was to put all goods and supplies in packages of fromninety to one hundred pounds' weight. One such package was considered alight load. An experienced voyageur usually carried two. That the newsettlers might help with the work, part of the food, clothing, and otherthings had, for this trip, been made into lighter parcels.

  The Orkneyman was the first to receive a load. He adjusted his portagestrap, the broad band across his forehead, the ends passing back over hisshoulders to support his pack. Picking up a hundred pound sack ofpemmican, Murray put it in position on the small of the Orkneyman's back,then placed another bulky package on top of the sack. The load extendedalong the man's spine to the crown of his head, and weighed nearly twohundred pounds, but the Orkneyman, his body bent forward, trotted awaywith it. It was the steersman's work to place the packages, and the easewith which Murray had swung the hundred pound sack into position revealedone reason why he had been chosen.

  Walter's pack of forty or fifty pounds did not seem heavy. He feltconfident that he could carry it easily enough, and imitated theOrkneyman by starting off at a trot. The portage trail was an unusuallygood one, neither very rough nor very steep, yet the boy soon found thathe could not keep up the pace. He slowed down to a walk. His burden grewheavier. The muscles of his neck began to ache. He tried to ease them alittle, and his pack twisted, pulling his head back with a wrench. Hestumbled, went down, strove to straighten his load and get up again. Oneof his companions, plodding along, overtook him, stopped to laugh, triedto help him, and succeeded only in dislocating his own pack. Louis had tocome to the rescue of both. Walter's confidence in his own strength haddiminished, and he had discovered several new muscles in his back andneck. Moreover he had learned that balancing a pack is an art not to beacquired in a moment.

  Another forking of the streams had been reached, where the Fox and theHill rivers joined to form the Steel. The Hill River proved shallower andmore rapid than the Steel. Ledges, rocks, and boulders obstructed thecurrent, and portages became so frequent that Walter got plenty ofpractice in carrying a pack. Sometimes the empty boats could be poled ortracked through the rapids or warped up the channel by throwing the linearound a tree and pulling. In other places the men, standing in thewater, lifted the heavy craft over the stones. Around the worst stretchesthey dragged it over the portage trails.

  At Rock Portage, where a ridge extends across the river and the waterrushes down in rapids and cascades between small islands, each boat andits cargo had to be carried clear over one of the islands. Then, to thegreat relief of the crews, they were able to row a short distance to RockHouse, a storehouse for goods and supplies for the Selkirk Colony. Theremore pemmican, dried meat, flour, tea, and a little sugar were takenaboard. To make room for the provisions, some of the personal belongingsof the settlers had to be unloaded, but the man in charge of Rock Housepromised to send the things to Fort Douglas at the first opportunity.

  Traveling up stream had now become an almost continual fight with rapidwaters through rough and rocky country. Walter's muscles were hardeningand he was learning how to use his strength to the best advantage, buteach night when camp was made, he was ready to roll in his blanket andsleep anywhere, on evergreen branches, on the hard planks of the boat, oron the bare ground.

  How was Mr. Perier standing the tow-path and the portage, the boywondered. The apothecary was far from robust. He had been so hopeful,too, looking forward so eagerly to the rich land of the Red River. Heseemed to think of that land in the Bible terms, as "flowing with milkand honey." They would be too late to do any real farming this year, hehad said, but they could plow their land and have it ready for seeding inthe spring. Of course they would be provided with a house, fuel, and foodfor the winter. The contract he and Captain Mai,--in Lord Selkirk'sname,--had signed, promised him such things on credit. He had broughtwith him some chemist's supplies; dried and powdered roots and otheringredients used in medicines. He and Walter would set up a shop and earnenough to buy whatever they needed during the cold weather. Walter hadshared his master's hopefulness, but now, after questioning Louis aboutaffairs in the Colony, he was beginning to doubt whether it would be soeasy to make a fortune there as Mr. Perier believed.

  September was advancing. Most of the time the weather held good, but thenights were chilly and the mornings raw, often with fog on the river. Onenight, after the boat had been dragged through several short rapids, or"spouts," and carried over two portages,--the whole day's progress lessthan two miles,--snow fell heavily. When Walter, stiff with cold, crawledout from under the tarpaulin in the morning, the ground was white.

  "This looks more like Christmas than September," he grumbled betweenchattering teeth. "I'm glad of one thing, Louis, we're headed south, notnorth."

  "Oh, the winter is not quite so long at the Red River as in thiscountry," Louis returned with a cheerful grin, "but it is longenough,--yes, quite long enough,--and cold enough too, on the prairie."

  So the journey went slowly on, rowing, poling, tracking, warping, andcarrying the heavy boats up stream, and there was little enough rowingcompared with the poling and portaging.

  Five or six miles had become a fair day's progress. In the worststretches only a mile or two could be made by working from dawn to dark.The Swiss would have been glad to rest on Sundays, and had expected toobserve the day as they were accustomed to, but the guide and thevoyageurs would not consent. It was too late in the season, the journeywas too long, the food supply too scanty, to permit the losing of onewhole day each week. The immigrants had to be content with a brief prayerservice morning and evening. The Swiss were Protestants, while all of thevoyageurs, except two or three Orkneymen, belonged to the Roman Catholicchurch, so they worshiped separately. It surprised Walter at first to seethe wild-looking rivermen kneeling with bowed heads
repeating their"Aves" before lying down to rest. He never saw _le Murrai Noir_ in thatposture, however. He wondered if the steersman was a heathen.

  There were accidents in the brigade now and then. Once when theOrkneyman's shift were tracking, the rope broke and boat number threebegan to swing broadside to the current. At Murray's fierce yell ofcommand, the men in the boat jumped into the water nearly to their waistsand held it headed straight, while Louis, keeping his footing withdifficulty in the swift current, carried the remains of the line toshore.

  The next day the boat ahead met with misfortune, while it was being poledthrough rapids. To avoid a great rock, the bowman turned too far out intothe strong current. The rushing water swung the clumsy craft about andbore it down the rapids. It struck full on its side on a rock that rosewell out of water, and was held there by the strength of the current.There were but two men in the boat, and it was separated from shore by achannel of rushing white water. The crew of number three turned their owncraft in to shore, and ran to help. Walter, carrying the tow-line,reached the spot first and attempted to throw the rope to the imperiledboat. The end fell short. Then Louis tried his hand, but succeeded nobetter. He was preparing for another attempt, when the line was snatchedfrom his hands, and Murray sent the coiled end hurtling out across thewater and into the boat.

  Growling and cursing, the half-breed took control of the rescue. Underhis leadership, the men on shore succeeded in pulling the boat away fromthe rock, and warping it, half full of water, up the rapids. Walter'sfondness for the Black Murray had certainly not increased as the dayswent by, but he had to admit that the brutal steersman knew how to act inan emergency.

  The toilsome ascent of Hill River was over at last when camp was madelate one afternoon on an island which Louis called Sail Island. Thereason for the name became apparent when Murray, after carefullyexamining the trees, selected a straight, sound spruce and ordered Louisand the Orkneyman to cut it down. The spruce was to be trimmed for amast. If a mast was needed, thought Walter, the worst of the journey mustbe over. The night was cold and snow threatened, but there was plenty offuel, and the camp on Sail Island was a cheerful one.