Where the River Takes Me Page 11

  We ran down the slope to the cliffs where the trail began — no danger of being seen for they were below us on the beach. When we were halfway down the trail (trying hard not to slip or giggle), we hid in a clump of bushes to see what they were up to.

  There was the usual squabbling — who had to do what, etc., but it got sorted out in the usual way with Alec and Davy ordering Thomas and Radish to gather bits of wood for a fire. Once it was lit they emptied the sacks they had been carrying, and out came strings of dried clams, dried herring, some potatoes and turnips. Radish produced a half loaf of dark bread he must have gotten from the bakery.

  Lucy and I grinned at each other and headed down the bank.

  “Can we stay for the cookout?” I said, whereupon the boys shouted, “No!” and Alec told his sister to “go back to the nursery” and take me with her.

  Lucy turned to go but I held her back. “Let’s ask them about the musket they got from Mr. Beauchamp,” I said loudly. “Have you shot a grouse yet, Davy? Rev. Staines loves grouse — and potatoes. Did those potatoes come from the farm? I think Mr. Douglas —”

  “All right,” says Davy, scowling, “but don’t be a nuisance.” That was an end to it, for Davy is the “chief factor” of that little group.

  We feasted on clams and herrings while the potatoes and turnips were roasting in the fire, licked our fingers, talked, teased, laughed — it reminded me of my journey with the Fort Colvile brigade, but without the mosquitoes. For a few moments I felt utterly content. It was like being with friends!

  Radish was the first to notice the canoe. “The savages are attacking!” he cried, and ran down to the shore, stick in hand, to warn them off.

  I went after him and told him to stop being stupid. Then I looked out at the canoe and recognized Jimmy. I waved and called out, “Hello, Jimmy!” I thought they would continue on their way, but they paddled into the cove, beached their canoe and got out, Jimmy and two other boys.

  “I know you.” Alec pointed at Jimmy and laughed in a nasty way. “I gave you a good whipping. Remember?”

  Things happened so quickly after that I hardly know who started the fight. There was a lot of name-calling, a shove and a push, then more shoves, harder, and before I knew it, Alec and Davy and Jimmy were throwing punches and the others were doing the same and Lucy and Radish were whooping and dancing around, egging them on, and I was screaming at them to stop. Then Jimmy had Alec pinned to the ground and Alec was bleeding from his nose and his mouth and the others went quiet and Jimmy kept saying, “Who’s beat now?!” and at last Alec gave up and gasped, “I am! I’m beat.”

  But once he was back on his feet and the boys were paddling away, he yelled, “I’ll get you next time, you —”

  What followed were words I cannot bring myself to write.

  And then of all things, Lucy said it was my fault! She said the boys would not have come onto the beach if I hadn’t invited them, and she accused me of encouraging Jimmy to beat up her brother.

  She was right about it being my fault, for if I had not called out or waved they would have continued on their way and nothing would have happened. I suppose it was an invitation of sorts, tho’ not intended.

  The boys returned to the Fort long after Lucy and me. They might have been hoping that their bruises would disappear before they ran into Rev. Staines but, as Fate would have it, Rev. Staines was at the carpenter’s shop, talking to Mr. Yates, and he saw them coming through the gate. They were all caned, twice as many strokes as the last time, because they had already been warned against fighting.

  Sunday, September 15th

  Something dreadful has happened to Alec. He woke everyone in the night — the dormitory walls are such that everything can be heard — and he was vomiting, crying, screaming with stomach pain. Such a commotion, with people going up and down the stairs — Rev. Staines, Mrs. Staines, Dr. Benson — and now it is time for Sunday Service and Alec is no better. He swears he is dying, that the Indians tried to kill

  There’s the bell — must go.

  Later

  The day has taken an unexpected turn, and I am miserable beyond despair.

  Dr. Benson came to our dining room at Dinner. He told us that Alec is violently ill and delirious, and has been vomiting, purging and suffering from acute pain for hours — and did we know if he had had anything unusual to eat or drink?

  “He had uncooked potatoes from the cookout,” I said.

  “But everyone ate the same and nobody else got sick,” says Davy.

  “Except Alec ate more than anybody else,” says Radish.

  Then Lucy jumps in. “He took ill so sudden, he must have been poisoned. That’s what he told me.”

  “Poisoned?” says Dr. Benson. “How so?”

  “Jenna poisoned him with her camas.”

  “What?!” I was so taken aback I almost laughed. The notion was ridiculous! “Why would I do that?”

  “Because of the fight.” Turning back to Dr. Benson she says, “Jenna was mad at Alec because he started the fight with her Indian friends and so she poisoned him, because she knows all about the death camas, and how to use it. And she even has some death camas. I saw her put it in her cassette.”

  Her words filled me with dread. The bulb I had kept as a souvenir — was it from a blue camas? Could I have kept a white one by mistake? I could not remember!

  Dr. Benson was saying, “Now Lucy, you’re upset about your brother, do you not think your imagination …”

  Mrs. Staines was saying it was a serious matter to accuse someone of poisoning.

  Sarah was telling Dr. Benson how I had bragged about having the poison.

  And then Dr. Benson was telling us not to worry, we would get to the bottom of it, and he left to see to Alec, and Mrs. Staines said it was time for the Collects, and I have never been as fervent in reading prayers, especially the Collect for Aid against all Perils — tho’ of course there was no mention of a peril called Lucy.

  After Collects I opened my cassette and took out my pouch — my intention being to show Dr. Benson that I could not have used a camas bulb to poison Alec because there it was, and to prove it was harmless I would eat it in front of him — but I opened the pouch only to find that the bulb was gone, along with the knotted handkerchief I had wrapped around it.

  And the handkerchief was white. It had flowers embroidered on it, but all the same — Oh, no, did I use white to remind me of the type of bulb? I cannot remember!

  Monday, September 16th

  All last night I lay awake in despair. What type of bulb had I kept? Who stole it and why? How long has it been missing?

  All day I felt guilty, tho’ I have done nothing wrong.

  How could Lucy accuse me of something so wicked?

  I admit I have thought of poisoning someone, but only in a Novel, and the victim would be a Villain who deserved such a fate. Alec is a scrapper but he is not a Villain.

  Lucy spent most of the day in the sick room with Alec, and ignored me the rest of the time.

  Oh, mon dieu, what will become of me if Alec dies?

  I never imagined that coming to school would result in my being on trial for murder. Will they hang me? Radish says probably not, because I am a girl and not very old. He said it to cheer me up.

  How will I tell Aunt Grace?

  Tuesday, September 17th

  Alec is better and two mysteries have been solved.

  The cause of his illness was not from eating poison, but from eating too much jam taken from a tin that had been “doctored” to catch the thief. And the thief is Alec!

  Mr. Field and Cook came up with the idea and carried out the plan — which was to add a grain or two of tartar emetic to a newly-opened tin of jam, and wait for someone to show the symptoms. They had not reckoned on the thief eating the whole tin — little wonder Alec was so ill.

  Dr. Benson was horrified. He explained that tartar emetic, though useful in treating certain diseases, has “toxic side effects” and is poisonous i
f used in high amounts.

  They should have let us in on their secret sooner and I told them so.

  They agreed, and apologized to me and the others. Their reason was to make the culprit suffer from anxiety and discomfort.

  I wish I could have been in the sick room last night. According to Mr. Field, he and Cook paid Alec a visit and asked how he was and what he had eaten, and Cook looks up and says, “Mr. Field, what became of the jam that I poisoned for the rats?” Whereupon Alec cried out, “Rat poison? I ate that jam! I’m dying!” And then he had another fit of vomiting.

  No one feels sorry for him, not even Lucy, and his friends are put out because he never shared the good jam. We were certain Rev. Staines would give him a whipping, ill or not, but he said that the tartar emetic was “fitting punishment for the crime.”

  The punishment that Lucy caused me to suffer was not fitting, not when I had committed no crime. And I am still suffering. My stomach is a huge knot of misery. To think that Lucy could take something I told her in secret and throw it back in such a twisted and hateful way — well now she is on my list of Villains and Traitors.

  She should apologize too, for saying what she did, and she should have to do so in front of everybody, and be made to suffer for betraying me.

  Wednesday, September 18th

  Items missing from the dormitories:

  1 white handkerchief with an embroidered S

  1 blue sash

  1 small wooden carving

  1 camas bulb tied up in a handkerchief embroidered with flowers

  I wish Aunt Grace and Uncle Rory were here so I could tell them about the jam thief — right away, before the story loses its freshness. How they would laugh! I can just hear Uncle Rory and his roaring har-har-hars! The sound alone could make me laugh, even if I hadn’t heard what was funny. It had the same affect on Aunt — I remember how we would look at each other and giggle, and the giggle would become a full-blown laugh and before long we’d be holding our stomachs and wiping away tears — and Uncle Rory would say, “Heck, it wasn’t that funny! Har-har-har,” and that would set us off again.

  Well, no wonder Aunt Grace was smitten. And maybe that’s why she changed after she was married — all that laughing and good humour, there wasn’t time to be cross or count Misdemeanors —

  Fiddle, I’m thinking too much again. At least it’s taken my mind off that traitorous Lucy.

  Thursday, September 19th

  Stormy and cold like yesterday.

  I asked Mr. Durham if some of us could look in the fur loft for our missing items. He took us there after Dinner but we did not find anything. The truth is I only wanted an excuse to see the loft.

  It was empty though, as the furs that were here have been loaded onto the Norman Morison.

  I told Mr. Durham that Father would sometimes let me help in the loft over the winter, when he and the Clerk were weighing and packing the furs. I wanted to say more but Sarah and Eliza were rolling their eyes with impatience.

  I’m a little sad now, thinking of Father. He’d quiz me on weights, measures, sums and the like — once I teased him by saying he’d forgotten I was a girl and was training me to be a Company Clerk. He assured me he was doing nothing of the sort, and said I was growing into a fine young lady, thanks to Aunt Grace’s lessons, and would one day be worthy of sitting at the Governor’s table. “I don’t want to!” I remember saying. “I only want to sit at yours.”

  Friday, September 20th

  Alec has fully recovered, and persists in talking about his “near-death” ordeal, with gut-twisting detail.

  Lucy has still not apologized, the coward. I heard that she was so anxious about Alec she lost her senses and was ready to fix the blame on anyone or anything, but that is no excuse. She did not only accuse me, she made me think I really might have been guilty — not of using the poison, but of having it available —

  Oh, now I’m losing my senses. I have to stop dwelling on this but I can’t! Which camas bulb did I keep?

  Saturday, September 21st

  Well I am a tête de mouton and that’s a fact. What was I thinking? Of course I did not have a poisonous bulb — I never even dug one up! It came to me this morning on my way back from the privy, how Kwetlal’s grandmother had stopped me the moment she saw where I was digging. And after she’d dug it up to show how similar the bulbs are, she reburied it most carefully. So my thoughts have tormented me for nothing. No, not for nothing, because I can use it in a Novel! With traitorous Lucy as the Villain.

  Sunday, September 22nd

  All week the weather has been cold and damp, except in the afternoons when the fog lifts and the sun manages to break through. How I miss the wide blue skies over Fort Edmonton, and the brittle clear bite of the prairie cold. The grey skies that hang above this place are a suffocation.

  I mentioned as much after Collects and the Douglas girls laughed and said, “Wait until November.”

  A Royal Navy ship sailed into Esquimalt today.

  Monday, September 23rd

  The Norman Morison left today for London. She was supposed to leave eight days ago but the weather was too stormy. (I have learned that we are supposed to call a ship “she,” not “it.”) Rev. Staines took us to the jetty to see her off and taught Latin at the same time. A Mari usque ad Mare. From sea to sea.

  We waved and hollered bon voyage, the sailors and passengers waved back, the men on the Gallery fired the cannon, and flags and pennants flew from the masts and rigging — a thrilling sight! They will be at sea for five months or more, sailing from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic by going south and around Cape Horn, then north to England! In another year the ship will be back with new supplies and provisions (and fashionable dresses for some, I suppose), and new workers for the Company and new settlers for the Colony.

  Davy says he is praying that the next time the ship leaves, Rev. Staines will be on board.

  We took as long as we could going back to the schoolroom, stopping to pick up a shell on the beach or to catch our breath climbing up the embankment or to visit the privy — until Rev. Staines started shouting. Once inside he had us label the continents and oceans on a map of the world and mark the ship’s voyage. It was an unexpectedly enjoyable lesson, especially when he described his voyage to Vancouver’s Island with Mrs. Staines and Horace. He even let Horace talk about rounding Cape Horn and the terrifying storms and the mal de mer and so on. He then asked if we had any questions! Quelle surprise!

  We were hoping the questions would last until Dinner but, after only fifteen minutes, Rev. Staines remembered that he was a Latin teacher and went back to damus ignoramus et cetera.

  A voyage on the Home Ship would be a good addition to my Novel, but I would first have to take the voyage myself to know what it is like.

  Saturday, September 28th

  A trip to the village with Kwetlal!

  Her mother and grandmother were working with dog wool, and I watched for a while, thinking how much it would interest Nokum, the way they mix the wool from the dogs with the long hair from mountain goats, to make the yarn strong. At least I’m fairly certain Kwetlal meant “mountain goat,” for I remember seeing them on our journey through the Rockies. Their hair was shaggy and warm-looking and very long — perfect for weaving into blankets. The Songhees must get the goat wool by trading with people from the mainland.

  Kwetlal’s grandmother let me touch the partly-finished blanket on her loom, and it felt exceedingly soft. I cannot imagine why anyone would want a blanket from the Trade Store, though in fairness, the Company blankets are also soft and warm. Perhaps it is the novelty of having something different. It must also take a very long time to make a Songhees blanket.

  Later

  Lucy apologized at Supper in front of everyone. She said she was so afraid that Alec was dying, she lost her senses and was ready to blame anyone, and she’d only thought of the camas because Alec was certain he’d been poisoned. She said she hoped we could be friends.

&nbs
p; I said we could, but I don’t know. A friend is someone you can trust, like Suzanne. She never told tales about me, not even the time we were pretending we were on a brigade, and I took one of Father’s pipes and a pinch of his tobacco and we snuck inside Rev. Rundle’s chapel to smoke it. Tried to smoke, for it only made us cough and feel sick. Goodness, if Aunt Grace had found out I would still be wearing the scars.

  One of the coast ships arrived from Fort Langley and the men are unloading casks of salted salmon by the hundreds. The casks stay here until the ship comes in from the Sandwich Islands, then they get loaded onto that ship and off it goes. Mr. Durham told me. And shingles, too, that the Songhees cut from cedar. I hope the ship comes in with more oranges.

  Monday, September 30th

  The Royal Navy ship left for Fort Rupert this morning, with cannon fire, etc. Governor Blanshard was on board. At Dinner Alec announced that the Governor was going in order to investigate the deaths of the British seamen — the ones he told us about before. He said that those responsible would likely be sent to the gallows, and the reason a Royal Navy ship was going instead of a Company ship was because the Marines (the men in the Navy) are armed and trained to do battle, in case there is any trouble.

  October 1850

  Tuesday, October 1st

  Lucy looked homesick yesterday when the ship left for Fort Rupert.

  I must be homesick too, for all I can think of is Fort Edmonton. This is the time of year that the brigades would come home from Hudson’s Bay, sometimes early, like last year, sometimes late, but always in September or October, before the rivers froze up. I used to picture Father among the men, as they loaded the goods from the Home Ship onto the big York boats and set off across the country. Six months they’d be away, from the time they left — small wonder their return was a time of celebration and festivities! And after their arrival the Cree would come to the Fort, and all the Plains tribes — wanting to trade in their Made-Beaver tokens for new supplies. It was an exciting time, and it went on for days and days, with so many comings and goings. The year that Aunt Grace came to Fort Edmonton, there were 500 tipis outside the stockade!