On slow days when no one came to the store Wemple and Thomas did inventory. Wemple liked to keep track of the items in the stores and it also served to relieve the monotony of the days. Thomas was given the task of counting while the assistant clerk wrote the figures. As he reached a total Thomas called the figure out.
“Blankets 315.”
“Kettles 274.”
“Powder Horns 156.”
Hour after hour his voice droned on as he counted knives, hats, spoons, needles, guns, and the dozens of other items kept to trade with the Indians. It was so boring.
But today would be different. Today was one of the days the Indians were allowed to come and trade. Thomas looked forward to these days. He hurried to the stores after breakfast to help Wemple get ready.
“They are crafty and you have to watch them all the time.” Wemple repeated the warning he always gave then opened the door and ushered in the first five Indians.
While Wemple served them Thomas watched the natives, not so much because of what they might take, but because they fascinated him. He admired their straight figures and their ability to withstand the cold with half the clothing the white man wore. He envied them their freedom. They hunted for food and trapped animals to trade for whatever else they needed. Money, and having to work for it, meant nothing to them. They had no time schedule. He understood why Edward preferred their way of life.
Little Bird and Spotted Fawn entered with the third group Wemple let in. Little Bird looked over at Thomas and smiled shyly. Thomas returned the smile and was about to speak when Wemple said.
“Do you have more moccasins for me?”
Little Bird set the sack she carried on the counter. Wemple removed the moccasins, checked them over and told her how much she was allowed in trade goods.
Thomas went over to her. “May I help you?”
He saw Spotted Fawn smile at her sister and walk away. Little Bird nodded at Thomas.
“I need a kettle, beans, and two fish hooks.”
“What do you need fish hooks for in the winter?”
“Until the ice gets too thick on the bay and the snow too deep, we cut holes in the ice and fish through them. Have you never done that?”
Thomas shook his head. “No. We bought our fish from the fishing boats.”
“Would you like to try it?”
“Yes.” He did not know what it involved, but he did know he wanted to spend time with her.
He led her to the shelf with the kettles and took down one. He put two fish hooks in it and the beans.
“And some tobacco for my grandmother,” Little Bird said.
“How is your grandmother?”
“Better. Ever since she found out that Spotted Fawn is having a baby she has begun to live again. She says she still has work to do teaching the little one the ways of our people.”
“I am glad.”
Thomas carried the goods to the counter and waited for Wemple to weigh the beans. When he had agreed the goods were equivalent to the value of the moccasins, Thomas walked Little Bird to the door.
“If you want to try fishing through the ice, I will be going onto the bay tomorrow.”
“That is Saturday. I would like to go with you.”
Little Bird nodded. “I will be here after the noon meal.”
* * *
When Thomas finished work at noon on Saturday he headed for a quick meal and then put on his outer wear. As he donned the heavy skins he wished he had the stamina of the Indians and was able to survive the cold with less covering. He went to wait by the gate for Little Bird.
When she came she was carrying the hooks, some line, a blanket, and an axe. Thomas took the blanket and axe from her and they walked down to the bay. Ice heaves stood up against the blue sky. They climbed one and looked out over the frozen bay. For as far as they could see it was white from the snow.
Thomas followed Little Bird down the other side. They found holes that had been cut in the ice and were now frozen over again.
“We will try this one,” Little Bird said. She set the hooks and line on the snow-covered ice beside the hole.
Thomas put the blanket with them. From the jagged edges around the holes, Thomas understood what the axe was for. He lifted the axe in his hand and chopped at the hole. The ice was thick and it took a while before he penetrated the bottom. The hole immediately filled with water.
“Good,” Little Bird said. She knotted the hooks to the line and lay down on the ice. She dropped her hook down the hole.
Thomas followed suit and was soon lying beside her. He looked through the hole but could see nothing. Little Bird reached for the blanket and pulled it over their heads.
“Look now,” she said.
It was dim under the covering and when Thomas peered down the hole he could see the water beneath. As he watched a fish swam into view and then was gone again.
“Wow, did you see that?” he asked, amazed.
“Yes, now all we have to do is catch it.”
They were quiet as Little Bird dangled and bobbed her hook. Thomas was so interested in watching the life below he forgot his line. Finally he saw one grab onto Little Bird’s hook. He scrambled to throw back the blanket as, keeping the line tight, she rose to her knees and pulled the line and fish out of the water. The fish flopped on the ice until Little Bird grabbed the axe and hit it on the head.
“That is one,” she said. “We need at least one more for supper.”
They fished until she had caught another, and then gathered up their things. In spite of the fun he was having, Thomas was grateful they were leaving because he was already feeling the cold. Thomas carried the fish back to the village for her.
“Would you like to stay for the meal?” Little Bird asked.
“Is there enough?”
“There is.”
Thomas was not sure if it was spending more time with her or the thought of eating fresh, unsalted fish that made him decide to say yes.
* * *
The snow began again and fell steadily. Men were assigned to clear the walks, a path to the village, and to bring in the wood for the fires which were kept going all day and most of the night. Wood cutting and hauling took place every few of days.
On the cold mornings of December Thomas’ bedding was frozen to the wall of the building. He pulled his bed away from the wall as the men in the other three corners had done.
As the days passed, Thomas found it harder and harder to go into the mess for the meals which consisted mainly of salted fish and fowl, occasionally alternated with salted beef and pork. There were few ways for the cook to prepare the food except boiling or roasting, although he occasionally made a stew. That did not relieve the monotony, however. All the food was beginning to taste the same. Because of the good fish catch that year, and the two spoiled barrels of salted beef, salted fish was served every Sunday, Tuesday, and Friday.
Thomas was not the only disgruntled one. More than once, men had stood and dumped their meals on the floor as a show of their displeasure. Peter usually was the first to do so and was followed by others.
“There is little variety here,” Luke said, after one man had thrown his fish on the floor and left the room in disgust. “But all I have to do is remember trying to find something to eat, or beg some money for food on the streets of London, and this meal becomes a feast.”
“Yeah,” another man at the table agreed quietly. Although they were not supposed to talk, occasionally something happened that had to be discussed. “Where I come from you were lucky to eat once every two days and only then if you stole it.”
Thomas knew some of the boys who had left the Orkney Islands for the forts in the past had done so because they were near starvation and this was their only hope. Maybe that was why the men stayed on. It was better than going back to fighting for their food. But it was obvious not all the men here appreciated the fact that they had enough to eat, he observed, as another man stomped out leaving his half-eaten food.
One night at supper, the grumbling about the provisions heated up. The men had been served salted duck, and they all knew the Factor and his officers were enjoying the fresh meat from a deer that had been shot. In loud voices they began to chant that they, too, wanted fresh deer meat. Some even began to bang the table with their metal mugs. Neither the cook, nor any of the officers, appeared to care about the protest and soon the men quieted down.
* * *
The temperature fluctuated between cold and very cold. On the clear days, the air was still. On the overcast, windy days the drifting snow disoriented anyone fool enough to venture outside the post. The swirling whiteness obliterated all buildings or bush that could be used as a point of reference, and it was easy to get lost just going to the Indian village, especially when the path blew in.
Even with the cold weather, Thomas envied Henry and Francis being able to get out of the fort on their wood gathering trips. The men of the cutter’s trade were divided into two groups which alternated going out into the bush. Wood cutting was postponed because of weather, but only until the wood pile reached a certain level. When that happened, the men had to go out no matter what the conditions.
Francis, Luke, and Jarvis were on the same team of cutters. One day, when Jarvis was sick in bed Thomas was asked if he wanted to replace him. He quickly agreed, needing a change from the stores. It was his first excursion outside the perimeter of the post and the village. He put on his outer wear and went outside where the others waited. There, he was given a pair of snow shoes.
Thomas stared at the oval shaped wood with the strips of hide stretched from one side to the other. He had seen other men use them, but he had never tried them himself.
“What do I do with these?” he asked Francis.
“Strap them to your feet like this.” Francis showed him how to stand in the middle and tie the laces around his feet.
“How do I walk in them?” Thomas tried to bend far enough to tie them on. “They are wide.”
“It is a whole new way of walking. You have to keep your feet apart and shift your weight from side to side as you go.”
Thomas tried his best, but he kept stepping on the sides of the shoes and tripping himself. Francis and the other men, who had gone through the same comedic act when they first learned, smiled at Thomas’ problems.
Luke glanced up at the sky where clouds could be seen in the west. “It looks like more snow is on its way,” he said. “We do not have time to wait for you. Francis will stay and help you while we start out. He knows the way, and there will be our tracks to follow.”
Thomas practiced under Francis’ guidance until he could walk without stepping on the shoes, but his forward movement was slow. They began to follow the snowshoe and sled tracks left by the other men. By the time they had gone a few hundred yards, Thomas was exhausted and sweating inside his skins from the exertion.
“Is this the way it always is?” he asked, panting.
“Only the first couple of times you go out, then you get into a rhythm and you can almost run in them.”
“Run? Who would want to run in these?”
“Some of the men are quite good at it and they race to see who can get to the trees the fastest.”
“Can we stop for a while?”
“Yes. The first time I tried them I was resting all the time.”
They stopped, but it was not long before the cold penetrated through their layers and they resumed their laborious trek. Every breath sent a cloud of vapor in front of them and soon ice was hanging from the fur around their faces. Thomas was impressed with how well they were able to walk on top of the snow. In some places the drifts were so high they would not have made it across them without the snowshoes.
After a two hour walk through the scrub brush that had grown up to replace the cut trees, the boys found the men busy sawing down trees, knocking the branches off, and cutting them into lengths.
“You two load them onto the sleds,” Luke said.
Thomas tried to carry the logs with his snowshoes on, but quickly followed Francis’ example and took them off. The branches lying on the snow kept catching in the webbing. The snow had been trampled down by the men and although they sunk a little, it was easier to move. When the sleds were full, the men threw their axes and saws on top. The wind was blowing and the snow had begun.
“We had better hurry,” Luke said. “We do not want to be caught out in a storm.”
Although Thomas and Francis started out with the men pulling the laden sleds, they soon fell behind. Thomas was still slow with the snowshoes and Francis waited for him. They tried to keep the men in sight, but eventually lost them in the falling snow.
“What are we going to do now?” Thomas asked. It was the first time he had been away from the fort and he had no sense of direction.
“As long as we can see their tracks, we will be okay,” Francis said. “I have done it before.”
It was easy for the first while, but the snow fall increased. They were both getting tired, Thomas more so than Francis because of his inexperience. They made frequent stops trying to rest and get their bearings. As the afternoon progressed, the storm grew in strength. The wind caught up the small, hard flakes. It slammed them against their bodies and whipped them in their faces. It blew them across the trail obliterating the tracks. Thomas and Francis were in a whiteout, unable to see the bush around them.
“Do you recognize anything?” Thomas asked, on one of their stops. “Are we still on the trail?”
Francis looked around. “It is like we are in a small room with white walls and ceiling and no door,” he said, shaking his head. “But I think we are on the trail.”
“Should we keep walking or stop and wait until morning?” It was almost dark and Thomas did not believe they would find the fort now. He tried to calm his fears.
“Do you think we would survive the night out here?”
“I do not know, but I do not think we can go much further,” Thomas said. “We are just tiring ourselves and in the dark we might start going in circles. Did you bring a flint to start a fire?”
“No,” Francis said.
“Me neither,” Thomas’ fears began to rise.
“I do not want to die out here,” Francis said, quietly.
Thomas silently agreed. He looked around for something to use as a shelter. They needed some protection from the snow. There was nothing.
“We must stay near the trail,” Francis said. “They will be coming back to look for us.”
“Do you think so in this storm?”
“Yes, they will,” Francis said emphatically. “We will lie down here and wait.”
The darkness crept in and they talked to stay awake as the snow piled around them. Finally Francis gave up and fell asleep. After about an hour, Thomas drifted off to sleep also. The snow slowly covered the two bodies. Thomas woke once and pushed his hand out of the snow to make an air hole.