Finding the North Star

CHAPTER 9 THE RIVER

Chapter 9 THE RIVER

The camp at the river's edge was almost like a small canvas village. There were some sleeping tents laid out in neat rows with two large ones pegged out next to each other their flaps open to the sun and fresh air. One appeared to be a small shop with camping goods for sale while the other was a tavern of sorts. Some tables sat lopsided on the uneven ground, which the men seated around them drinking and playing cards didn't seem to mind.

There were a few women seated around the open fires, chatting to each other and drinking tea while their children played or clung to their skirts, but it was mainly a village of men - and boys striving for manhood.

Becky took it all in. Dogs scavenged morsels of food from plates and fought over the scraps; perhaps fifteen or so horses and mules were tethered to a long rope strung between two trees, while supplies were loaded into two colourfully decorated birchbark canoes bobbing in the swell at the river's edge. A group of men stood to one side and appeared to be arguing over a price, but shook hands when the haggling was done. Soon after, they climbed aboard one of the canoes and left amid much whooping and hollering and general calls of farewell.

A big man, ponytailed and broad shouldered made his way out of the remaining group and strode over to greet them.

"John . . . here you are. I thought you'd got lost." He beamed at the group, resting his gaze on Mary and Becky. "And these must be my passengers. Come and sit by the fire and have some tea to warm you. We are almost ready to leave." He looked over at his canoe which was a flurry of activity and hollered . . . "No, not there, that goes further back." He left them, calling over his shoulder as he lumbered over to the water, "I have to sort this out . . . excuse me."

"That was Maurice," John said. "He's the brawn behind this operation. The one he's talking to . . . the Irish bloke Arlen, he's the brains and his partner. They're friends really."

"Do you think they know what they are doing?" Mary whispered as they slid off the horses. There seemed to be a lot of disagreement and confusion about what should go where on the canoe.

"Wait until the river," John nodded knowingly. "That's more their element. This is dry land carryings on."

"Are you sure Johnny? I've heard stories about the river . . . it's dangerous."

"That's 'cause you've never been on it before."

"Well neither have you."

John ignored this. He finished his tea then threw the dregs onto the fire. "I'd best be getting ready myself."

Becky swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that had risen in her throat. Was John leaving now?

"I want to tell one of the lads to get word to Hamish that Kip is with us and that we've made it safe and sound to the river."

Becky wondered why John wasn't going to tell Hamish himself. She watched as he wandered off, then all the other activities of the camp became distractions. Her eyes followed Roam and Molly as they were led down to the water and their loads taken. The two horses were allowed to drink; then one of the boys tied them up with the rest of the herd where they were given a nose bag apiece. Becky thought about going over to say goodbye to the little horse - the first one she had ever ridden - but Maurice was waving them over to the canoe. It was time to go.

John had bought them a knapsack each and some personal items from the shop - tooth powders, soap, flannels and a towel apiece. Leaving in such a rush yesterday had meant that some things got left behind. They picked them up and walked down to the canoe. Close up, Becky could see it was huge - ten men might easily find room to sit if it hadn't been full of cargo.