Slowly we step out onto the shore, the voyageurs shuffling uncomfortably together. I know some are already on La Malice’s side and that others are seriously considering his proposal. A mutiny is imminent. Quesnel and Stuart flank our commander with pistols drawn. I curse myself that I left my pistol in the canoe, and so with my heart pounding, I pull out my knife and take my place beside Fraser.
Fraser remains calm. “I don’t blame you for feeling this way, men. Your lives have been in jeopardy many times, but through it all you’ve demonstrated more courage and loyalty than I could ever have expected. There’s no guarantee we’ll make it back alive, but we stand a much better chance if we stick together.”
He looks searchingly at each of them, men like Gagnier whom he’s known for years. “The Company was built upon friendship, loyalty and courage. Are you willing to toss all that aside? Besides, what chance would you have, travelling alone cross-country in this land? If we go our separate ways we’re dead for sure.”
Waccan approaches. “Let us men talk alone, Simon. We will come to a decision soon.”
“La Malice would put a bullet in my back right now if he could,” says Fraser as we walk down the sand bar, away from the voyageurs who begin talking animatedly to one other. “But I’m hoping that Waccan, Gagnier and D’Alaire will convince the others that what I said is true. We wouldn’t last a week in this country if we split up. Our strength lies in our numbers.”
After ten minutes of what appears to be a heated discussion, the voyageurs signal us to join them. I look at La Malice, trying to guess what the outcome of the conversation has been, but his dark face seems carved from stone: cold, emotionless and unreadable. I listen breathlessly as Waccan speaks on the men’s behalf.
“Better the devil you know than the one you don’t, n’est-ce pas? You have our word that we’ll stay together, Monsieur Fraser. Besides,” Waccan adds, smiling at me, “if the youngest one among us has the courage to continue, it would look bad on the rest of us if we didn’t!”
Judging by the dark expressions on some of their faces the decision is by no means unanimous. While Fraser is obviously relieved, he needs additional assurances.
“I’m glad we’ve resolved not to separate during the rest of the voyage,” he says, “but I feel we should all take an oath to formalize this decision. If you truly mean what you have said, repeat after me: ‘I solemnly swear before almighty God, that I shall sooner perish than forsake in distress any of our crew during the present voyage.’”
The men look at each other hesitantly, then one by one with Waccan in the lead, they remove their hats and repeat the vow solemnly. All that is, except La Malice. Dragged along on a mission that has nearly cost him his life several times over, he has taken all he can, oath or not.
I watch La Malice stretch his left hand slowly behind his back to the pistol tucked in his sash. “Simon, watch out!” I cry. With a curse, La Malice pulls out the pistol, and as he cocks the hammer, I leap forward and slash at his hand.
The shot misses Fraser by several feet. La Malice drops the pistol from his bleeding hand and grabs hold of me instead. “I should have killed you on the cliff, whelp, but I’ll make up for that mistake now!”
We struggle, all the while edging closer and closer to the riverbank. La Malice is larger and stronger, and when he reaches hungrily for my knife, I fight back with desperate strength, knowing beyond any doubt what will happen if he gets his hand on it.
La Malice gains the upper hand. His fingers wrap around mine. He twists my hand and the blade so that they are slowly pushing towards my throat. “Die, boy!” he says, his eyes blazing with rage.
I feel his breath on my face, see through watering eyes the knife edge closer and closer as the larger, heavier man leans into me. I drop quickly to one knee, throw La Malice off balance and then, with all my strength, lower my shoulder and push hard against the voyageur.
La Malice curses, slipping on the wet gravel of the riverbank. He falls backwards, pulling me down on top of him, the knife wedged between our bodies.
“Duncan!” shouts Quesnel, hurrying to pull me off the voyageur. “Are you hurt? It happened so fast I couldn’t help!”
Quesnel lifts me up, and I’m horrified to see a dark patch of blood on my shirt. I forget all about La Malice until I hear him cough and see him stagger to his knees, blood flowing from his mouth, staining his black beard crimson.
La Malice struggles to his feet, standing and swaying at the river’s edge, a large red stain blossoming across his chest like a flower. He coughs, his lips moving as if he’s trying to speak. Then his head slumps and he collapses awkwardly, falling over backwards into the river. I watch in shock as he floats out into the main channel of the river and drifts away in the current.
The blood-stained weapon is still held tightly in my grasp, and I drop it as if it were a poisonous snake. “I didn’t mean to kill him! He fell on top of the knife!” My mind races back to Scotland, to an image of Sir Cecil Hamilton, lying still and bleeding on a Glasgow street. That rash attack forced me from my home and took my sister from me. Who knows what fate awaits me now that I’ve actually killed a man.
Instead, Fraser embraces me. “You’ve nothing to be sorry about, lad. You saved my life! The North West Company and I owe you a debt we can never hope to repay.” He claps me heartily on the shoulder as one by one the voyageurs shake my trembling hand.
“That’s how you deal with traitors, like La Malice,” says Waccan, spitting as he mentions the name, handing me back my knife. “I can’t believe he would do that.”
“Très courageux,” adds Gagnier with respect. Still numb from what happened, I fall to my knees, face ashen. Quesnel races over to my side and puts his arm around me.
“So what do we do now?” asks Gagnier. “We’re hundreds of miles from home, we’ve no food and are being chased by people who want to kill us.”
“Now,” replies Fraser, “we light a big fire, and find some clams or berries and whatever else we can. Lord knows what dangers we’ll encounter in the morning, but I’d much rather face them on a full belly and in the company of the bravest men I’ve ever known.”