Canadian Adventurers and Explorers Bundle. John Wilson

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СКАЧАТЬ of Lake Winnipeg offered no release from hardship for the young recruit. He exchanged an aching back for painful arms and blistered hands. David almost looked forward to the next portage, but his anticipation of relief soon faded. The steep three-kilometre portage took three days of hard labour before the brigade reached Cedar Lake, the last large body of water they would cross before entering the Saskatchewan River. The Saskatchewan was their highway across the western plains, and just a week upstream the river brought them to Cumberland House. They had travelled over eleven hundred kilometres from York Factory. They stopped just long enough to take on a few dried provisions. Tomison wanted to press westward. It was already late August.

      Even though only a month had passed, to David, York Factory and his clerical life seemed a world away. The dark conifers and the bug-ridden shield had gradually opened into an expanse of shimmering aspens and sweet-smelling poplar. On the river’s bank, ash saplings pushed through tall grasses to reach toward an expansive blue sky. They were averaging forty kilometres a day, and in the evenings, David now had enough energy to rustle up boughs for a soft bed. On these gentle summer nights he heard the haunting bugle of elk and the lulling flow of the river. He wrapped the sounds of the wilderness around him and drifted into deep sleep. This new wild place was giving him strength and confidence and each passing night seduced him further. He never wanted to go back.

      The brigade split up at the south branch of the Saskatchewan. Tomison and most of the canoes continued up the main branch to their wintering place at Hudson House. David and the remaining men followed Oman. They took four canoes and tracked up the south branch. On the third day they discovered log buildings under construction on the bank above them. Men, wearing long red and blue caps that hung halfway down their heads, were busy with axes and spoke-shaves. Their grey blanket coats were drawn tight around the middle with wide leather belts.

      “Canadians” muttered Oman as he steered close to shore to meet them. They were all French speaking except for one they called Thorburn. Oman and Thorburn exchanged courtesies, but the tension between them was apparent. Thorburn told them the Canadians were trading for two different companies under the management of Simon McTavish from Montreal. The next day, Oman, following Tomison’s instructions should he come across the “peddlers from Montreal,” started construction of an HBC post just slightly upstream. “Build on top of them if you have to!” Tomison had ordered. Oman named the new post South Branch House.

      Trading with the local Cree began before the posts were complete. David enjoyed the Crees’ company and listened attentively when they spoke. He began to pick up more than the simple trade words Oman had taught him along the way. In time, he was able to communicate easily with them. He found the Cree to be proud and independent, unlike the Chipewyan at the Factory. These men were tall and fine looking in leather clothes painted with red and yellow dyes. Some were draped in shining buffalo robes. They had high cheekbones, prominent noses, and dark eyes. These features emphasized what David saw as a dignified and self-reliant bearing. The women dressed much the same as the men and were fond of the bright cloth David sold. The Cree had only a few horses, which they kept for hunting and bringing meat to their tents. Dogs were fitted with side bags to carry belongings or harnessed to long poles for hauling buffalo or elk hides to camp.

      The Cree found their beaver and wolf skins could be sold for prized sewing awls and strong needles to replace the troublesome thorns the women used for sewing leather. Flint and steel could be used to make fire on demand. Now the old Cree, instead of anxiously guarding glowing embers in a wooden bowl and constantly feeding sticks to the coals, could move fire easily. Most of all, guns and ammunition could be bought. Victory over an enemy tribe now depended more on the number of guns than on the number or the bravery of warriors. To the Cree, it was unbelievable that white men would trade such valuable items for only a few animal skins.

      The Canadians also took their quantity of furs. In fact, they were out-trading the HBC post. Although the goods from Montreal were inferior, they had brought four times as much as the HBC brigade had. The Canadians had brought many iron pots and cloth coats. Oman had brought copper pots and heavy wool blankets, which he knew the Cree preferred. Most notably, one-quarter of all the Canadians’ trade goods were barrels of strong liquor. Drunk straight, it was too strong and was like poison to the Aboriginal Peoples, but when diluted with water, they found it irresistible.

      By the beginning of April, trade with the Cree was over. They had followed the buffalo to the open plains. As David and the others waited for the river ice to break, they sorted furs and pressed them into bundles. The Canadians had done very well. At break-up, they paddled their loaded canoes toward Lake Superior and Montreal. The HBC brigade paddled in another direction. They set out for Cumberland House, where they would rendezvous with Tomison for the return trek to York Factory.

      For David, returning to York Factory would be a sentence to months of boredom. Oman knew this and put in a word with Tomison. When Tomison’s canoes left for York Factory he let David stay behind at Cumberland House with two HBC men.

      “You’ll spend the summer here, Davie me lad. Barter the remainder of the trade goods and help set in fish and game provisions. We’ll need food for the gang returning this fall,” instructed Tomison.

      The summer passed quickly enough. David tended three long gill nets strung out on Cumberland Lake. The fish were smoked or rendered for lamp oil by the men at camp. Cree hunters supplied all the meat they could want. Their women hung out strips of fresh red meat to dry in the sun. David helped pound dried buffalo meat into powder, which the Cree women then mixed with fat and berries to make pemmican, the staple food for the trail. Pemmican fuelled the brigades far better than oatmeal and bacon did. Less than a kilogram would provide a man all the energy and nutrients he needed for a day’s travel. In years to come, a wilderness industry developed to supply pemmican for the fur trade. Plains communities of mixed French, First Nations, and Scottish ancestry, called the Métis, would emerge and thrive on pemmican production. Each year Métis hunters killed and quartered buffalo by the thousands. They dragged the meat and hides to camp where the rest of the community efficiently processed the animals into pemmican bricks for sale, barter, or trade.

      In late August of 1787, Tomison returned to Cumberland House with another brigade and canoes packed with goods. Some of his men were in poor health or lame, and they were left at Cumberland House. David joined the remainder of Tomison’s party, heading farther inland to Manchester House, the company’s new post 160 kilometres up the Saskatchewan River. They journeyed west through gently rolling hills and crossed the paths of never-ending herds of buffalo. Wave after wave of the huge beasts swam across the river, striving for fresh grasslands on the other side. More than once, Tomison and his men were forced to beat the animals with paddles to fend them off and avoid being swamped.

      The canoes pushed upstream to the steady rhythm of paddles until they reached Manchester House. The post was simply a rough log building on the riverbank. In front, a lone figure in full native dress stood squarely with feet apart and both hands on his hips. James Gady, bearded and stocky, looked as if he not only owned this post but everything west of Lake Winnipeg. Gady had spent two years in this country living with the Peigan. He had learned their language, customs, and ways of survival. He could sustain himself in these grasslands without the support of either Peigan or white man, and because of this, he was well respected. He was a friend of the Peigan and a valuable asset to Tomison and the HBC.

      “It’s about time you sore-assed tenderfoots got here,” bellowed Gady, as the first of the canoes gently buried its keel into the sandy beach. He’s right , David thought, my ass is sore. Fourteen-hour days of paddling on a hard canoe seat will do that. Like drunks leaving a tavern, Tomison and his men staggered from their canoes until their legs regained circulation. Tomison shook Gady’s hand as David and the crew busied themselves hauling cargo-up the shore to the grassy bench by the house.

      That night, СКАЧАТЬ