LAKE OF THE SWANS
Book 2 of 3
Chapter 54
Having portaged the big canoe from river to lakeshore, the crew took the tracks logs from behind, placed them in front and perpendicular to the dugout and then rolled it onto them. By such means, they left the dugout parked on rollers. They did not move it into the lake. The time was 11 pm. Laureal went to bed, and Fischer took her place. The moving crew then brought a bundle of 6 mid-level logs, along with the 4 track logs used to move the bundle. Tired but confident in what they had learned, they brought the remaining seven mid-level logs together in a single bundle. The time was 3 am. All that remained were the 10 base-level logs, plus the 12 top-level logs, which would serve as track rails for moving the bundles. They made two trips with three big logs to a bundle and one final trip with four big logs (the heaviest load of all at approx 2,400 pounds). They finished at ten o’clock in the morning. The women had a large breakfast ready. Ellie set to grazing but soon lay snoring like a beached whale. The moving crew hit the sack. Emma and the dogs watched the children and pups while Rutin, Mia, and Laureal swept the trail, starting with the tracks Ellie had left along the river’s shore. It was no small job, but after seven hours of steady work, Rutin declared his confidence in it. The time was 5 pm, and rain clouds were gathering. The breeze picked up, and the air cooled. Well satisfied with their accomplishment, the family ate an early supper and retired for the evening. The pitter-patter of rain, a form of music as old as life itself, lulled their tiered eyes into deep and restful sleep.
The next day saw continued rain, light to moderate with occasional downpours. The men could have assembled the raft, but the elders declared it a rest day. Ellie was tied up beside the camp, and grass was cut for her to eat. It was something of a hassle, but it kept her from pockmarking the area with huge hoof prints on rain-softened ground.
The following morning, Elkhart sent John hunting while Harley oversaw the assembly of the raft, including the installation of a rudder and sail. John returned at midday with a large elk, sectioned and loaded on Ellie’s back. Cody hunted locally and bagged four grouse and three squirrels. Rowe caught a stringer full of lake trout. Jessie and Laureal gathered tubers, nuts, and berries. The third day was spent processing the harvest from the day prior. The children helped and earned playtime with the puppies. Onak worked wherever needed, his home never far from his thoughts. And Fischer, when not at his chores, recorded it all.
The morning of the fourth day was spent sweeping the camp clean, after which the family set out traveling northwest on Spearhead Lake. It was a good day to get the hang of sailing a clumsy raft—comically entertaining at times, at other times suspenseful, what with the raftmen fighting to keep Ellie perpendicular to the waves, lest they run the risk of flipping over.
In learning to sail, the raftmen planned on trading positions as they went. Presently, Anders was first to man the rudder. Sitting on the deck like galley slaves at the oars, Julian and Onak manned a fixed pivot oar on either side of the raft. The pivots, having been fabricated and test-fitted with the rudder at Lake Montreal, were easily installed during reassembly. Likewise, the oars were rafting poles with paddles affixed to their ends. The sitting position of the rowers allowed them to pull the oars with their entire bodies, significantly increasing their power and ability to assist in controlling the raft. John took first shot at managing the craft’s unique sail. Unique because the raft had no place for a central mast. Instead, two lightweight masts of yellow birch protruded forward from its front corners, each at an angle of forty-five degrees to the water. The tops of the masts were connected by a crossmember, also of yellow birch. Below the crossmember and between the two masts, a modest sail of scraped animal hide hung like a bedsheet on a clothesline. At its top and bottom, a bow made from flexible willow. The space between the bottom of the sail and the water allowed for a field of vision roughly equivalent to that of sitting in a canoe (2½ to 3 miles). The center point of the sail’s top bow was tied to the center of the frame’s cross member, thus forming a fixed pivot. Too heavy to fly as a kite sail, the sail was instead manipulated by pulling on any of four ropes attached to the sail’s four corners via the ends of its willow bows. At the center point of each 45-degree mast, the control ropes passed through loops of greased bear hide. The sail did not rely on the frame or central pivot for strength against the wind so much as it relied on the four ropes that attached to its corners. Each of the four ropes extended from a corner of the sail to the front of the raft, where it wrapped around one of two heavy parallel pegs set a foot apart, with their tops slightly angled to the rear. John’s job was to sit centered behind the heavy pegs with his feet anchored against them, a position of strength like the rowers, from which he could manipulate the sail by drawing on the ropes and coiling them around the pegs, thus controlling the sail’s angle to the wind.
The clan reached the far end of Spearhead Lake that evening and struck camp. In the morning, they embarked on a large slough that wound into a shallow valley of muskeg bogs. The raftmen removed and stored their rudder due to the shallow water. In the narrow stretches, they could not use their oars, and poling was futile in the muskeg. To make matters worse, their sail did them little good in the absence of a breeze. Fortunately, the birchbark canoes were able to tow them. The rain fell, the south wind came up in the afternoon, and the raftmen had to fight to keep from being driven ashore.
Due to the muskeg, Ellie could not be offloaded that evening, so she remained on the raft where she ate, drank, and slept. Despite the difficulties of the bog, the travelers covered twenty miles in two days, whereby they struck camp at the confluence of the muskeg slew and an unnamed river (known as the Smoothstone River in the 21st Century). Weya arrived at camp by way of animal trails that bordered the waterways. Yike had not been allowed to run with her for fear that an encounter with a wolf pack might spell the end of them both. The humans prepared for more river travel by taking down the sail’s riggings, which they stowed for later use along with the rudder.
Modest in size and swift in current, the unnamed river flowed north, then west, then north again for a total of forty-seven miles. The travelers covered the distance in three days, including several quasi-portages in which they combined manpower and horse giant to rope the heavy raft and dugout along sets of rapids.
Ten days after ‘disappearing without a trace,’ the family flotilla exited the shady forest by way of a delta that opened like a flower to unknown waters. Thus entering a wide-open place, they squinted as their eyes adjusted to take in the sunbathed realm before them—a brilliant aquamarine expanse dotted with countless islands, their shores lined with aspens, their leaves flashing in the breeze like bands of silver beneath limestone cliffs that rose to evergreen crowns—a boreal archipelago, altogether stretching away to the shimmering horizon.
First to see it, Cody turned to look over his shoulder at Harley, his eyes animated, his entire face one big smile.
“Few eyes will ever look upon this,” said Harley. And with a few more paddle strokes, “In summertime, a reflection of heaven itself…and in winter, hell frozen over.”
Elkhart hollered from behind, “Harley.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Make for the first island. The raftmen can set up their sail there.”
“Will do!”
Three hundred yards beyond the delta, Harley and Cody pulled their canoe onto a pebbly beach. A belt of sweetgrass grew there, and further back, a belt of aspens stood before a limestone cliff, itself rising to an island forest of evergreens.
Jessie and Rowe came next, followed by the dugout, its entire crew paddling due to the absence of current. Yike, having ridden with the scouts, immediately set to scouting the island. Nemo jumped from the lady’s canoe and followed his big brother, sniffing here and there and marking territory. Having surveyed their immediate surrounding, the canoers, somewhat organically, ended up side by side in a line along the beach, watching and waiting for the raftsmen.
First to break the silence, Harley shouted out across the water, “WE HAVEN’T GOT ALL DAY!”
Jessie turned to Harley, her expression one of astonishment, “Can you not see how hard they’re working?”
Harley just ginned, then shrugged his shoulders.
The raftsmen had set up their oar stations immediately upon exiting the delta, but being unable to set up their sailing rig, and with only the two oars to move a craft as clumsy as it was heavy, alas, it took all the strength John and Anders could muster, working the oars, and still, as strong as they were, their progress was painfully slow.
Grabbing a shovel used for horse manure and snow, Onak set to paddling with it. Julian followed suit with John’s collapsible camp shovel.
Meanwhile on the island, Harley began unloading the scout canoe, “Give me a hand, Cody.”
Seeing what Harley was up to, Jessie and Rowe joined in and soon the two birch bark canoes were in route to assist the raftmen.
“We’re going to get a tow,” said Julian, looking on as the canoes approached.
Anders pulled his oar like a beast of burden, “It’s about damn time.”
(Painful chuckles went around.)
Straining with their oars and makeshift paddles, the raftsmen fell quiet until, Onak, looking out from the corner of his eye, saw Weya swimming up behind—
“The wolf is coming.”
Sleek and fast, Weya swung out to pass a stone’s toss to starboard.
“Here, girl,” Julian called. “Here, girl.”
No more had Julian called than the pups began to cry for their mother. In fact, so badly did they want out that Mattie and Riley set to yipping. The others joined in, and just like that, half of them were yipping, the other half howling in misery. Nor could they be blamed, being packed in as they were, almost like sardines, so quickly had they grown.
“Weya came about and cut a beeline towards the raft.”
Anders turned to Julian, “Sometimes with women…it’s better not to say anything.”
Laughing and straining at his oar, John glanced underneath the giant to make eye contact with Anders, “Don’t make me laugh!”
“Should I let them out?” asked Julian, looking to his mentor.
“Might be a good idea,” straining at his oar.
Onak’s dark eyes told of uncertainty, “What if one of them cramps up and drowns?” A logical question, given that the pups had been packed in the pen for hours.
“Perhaps we should ask Elkhart?”
Setting his shovel down, Julian turned to shore and hollered with his hands cupped around his mouth, “Should we let the pups out?”
“Yes!” Elkhart hollered back across the water, seeing an opportunity for the pups to learn something more than splashing in shallows and play-swimming with the children. He knew the canoeist would come to their aid if any began to flounder.
First to escape the pen, Storm popped out like a jack-in-the-box. The other pups followed, each bounding as if on springs made slightly awkward from confinement. They went wholeheartedly into the water. Only Mattie hesitated, but only for a moment, whereupon Weya turned towards the island, her brood in pursuit like a clutch of woolly ducklings.
“Jessie!” Emma hollered.
“Yes,” turning to her mom.
“Forget about the raft for now. Circle in and come along behind the pups.” It was only a precautionary measure, meant to see the pups safely to shore.
Harley tossed a rope to John, and the scouts towed while the raftmen rowed. Jessie and Rowe came shortly after and, throwing a second rope, added their paddles to the effort.
Safe on the island, the children splashed and frolicked with the pups on the beach. Ellie grazed on rich green grass, occasionally whipping her tail to shoo flies away. The men joked and bantered as they went about the work of erecting the sail and rudder. The women chatted while preparing a cold lunch, most of which had been premade. The Matriarch, meanwhile, had a brief word with the clan’s de-facto-Patriarch, after which he approached the scribe—
“Mr. Fisher.”
“Yes, Mr. Elkhart.
“These past days, as we have learned that a canoe in swift water is no easy place from which to keep records.”
“No sir,” grimacing, “unfortunately, it is not.”
“But when we’re ashore, we’ve all been quite busy, yourself included.”
“Yes, sir, we have been. Although at this moment, I feel like a bump on a log.”
Elkhart glanced at the raft, “If the men need a gopher, they have Cody. Might I suggest you take your pen and parchment, find a suitable workstation, and apply yourself to what you’re trained for? You may have only a few minutes, as the sail will soon be ready, and we’ll have lunch. In the meantime, however, your effort would be appreciated, and perhaps after lunch, we will stay awhile.”
Robert flashed a smile, “I’ll fetch my case.”
The breeze came across the water, cooling the summer sun and chasing the mosquitoes away. It made for a pleasant lunch. So much so that the family decided to linger for a spell. Rutin and Emma went for a stroll along the beach, whereupon finding a sandy shelf, they relaxed like an old couple in recliners—their entertainment, a mother duck and her teenage clutch, dabbling in the shallows. Back at the landing site, Onak took advantage of the open ground, employing a stick-and-shadow method to determine true north, a technique he’d learned from his father. Julian lay on his back with a stick of grass in his mouth, his eyes to the blue sky, his head filled with dreams of riches and glory. Noah and Sophie frolicked with the pups. Fischer sat in the shade of the aspens, recording recent events and postulating on an incredible trove of knowledge—the discovery of which would enlighten the world and lift humankind to a better place, as the Seeker liked to say.
Meanwhile, around the corner and halfway up a broken section of cliff, Cody and Rowe climbed from ledge to ledge. Nearly vertical and yet posing no serious challenge to a pair of strong teens, Cody went first with Rowe climbing directly behind. Finding footings on sturdy rock, they pulled and pushed themselves up a natural rock ladder to a wide shelf in the shade of a limestone overhang near the top of the cliff.
“This would be a good place for an eagle’s nest,” said Cody, looking about the large shelf.
Seven stories high, they sat with their legs stretched out on the shelf, their backs resting against cool limestone. Before them, a vista of sparkling aquamarine waters with islands of evergreens and silvery aspens.
Rowe turned to Cody, a wondrous smile in her innocent eyes, “It’s beautiful!”
“Are you glad we came up here?”
“Yes!”
Taking her hands in his, Cody leaned in, “That makes two of us.”
Their young lips nearly to meet—Rowe looked away, back towards the delta, “Weya swam farther than I thought.”
“I could swim that,” as though it were no big deal.
“You think so?” turning back to him.
“Oh, I know so.”
“If you drowned…I’d be sad.”
Smiling, Cody put his arm around her, “I wouldn’t drown.”
Back at the landing site, Laureal knelt on one knee, petting Weya, “How’s my girl?”
Out of the blue, Weya lunged and set to licking Laureal’s face. It could not be explained easily. Their bond had grown over the months, and perhaps it had to do with the all-or-nothing nature of wolves, but whatever the case, it was no longer enough for Weya to lick Laureal’s face once. Instead, she had to do it repeatedly, the same as wolves do when greeting family members. Fortunately, Laureal’s stature, being long and strong for a female, helped her to brace and avoid being bowled over.
John stood several steps behind, his hand on the hilt of his knife.
“Darling,” turning to look up at him, “that’s not necessary.”
It was not lost on John that, even as Laureal spoke, she had to extend a hand to the ground simply to keep the big wolf from pushing her off balance. “I’m just airing on the cautious side,” he said.
“I think it’s time you made friends with her,” returning her attention to Weya.
“We’re acquaintances, and that’s good enough.”
“She’s in a really good mood right now, John. We should take advantage of the opportunity.”
“Let’s give it another month.”
“Darling, this needs to be done.”
“You might think so, but I don’t. Besides, I have Storm. He’s my dog.”
It was true. John and Storm had become buddies. Meanwhile, around the corner and up the cliff, Cody craned to look down the way, wondering if perhaps the adults would soon come looking for them. Then, turning to Rowe, “Did you bring the stuff?”
“Yes,” opening her purse-like pouch and producing a smaller pouch.
Rising from their seats, the teenagers followed the shelf, both of them crouching to keep from hitting their heads on the roof of the overhang. Rowe followed as Cody ran his hand along the limestone wall, searching for just the right spot.
“This should do,” he said, finding a flat smooth spot in the stone.
“Let’s do a dry run,” said Rowe.
“Why?”
“Because, once we begin, we won’t be able to speak a word.”
Having completed their dry run, Cody took a small leather water bag from his belt. Then, taking a small amount of water into his mouth, he passed the bag to Rowe. Next, he took several large pinches of powdered red ochre from her pouch, turned his head up, and dropped the powder into his mouth. Rowe did the same. Cody put his left palm to the wall. Rowe put her right palm to the wall, the tip of her thumb and forefinger touching his. Puckering his cheeks like a chipmunk, Cody swished the water and ocher around in his mouth to mix them. He then drew a deep breath through his nostrils, leaned forward with pursed lips, and sprayed his mix over Rowe’s hand in a series of short bursts. Rowe then did the same, spraying her mix over Cody’s hand. Then, lifting their hands away, they saw the nearly perfect stencil of their two hands together on the limestone.
“Hey, that came out good!”
“I love it!” And turning to see Cody’s smile, Rowe broke into laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
No more had Cody asked than he burst into laughter, and Rowe laughed all the harder, their mouths and teeth covered in red ochre.
Down on the beach, Laureal stood with her hands on her hips, “John…the reason Weya won’t get on the raft is because she’s afraid of you.”
“Can’t she ride in one of the canoes?”
“A canoe is not a good place for a wolf. Mr. Elkhart said so himself. We have to make fast moves at times, and it’s a confined space, and that kind of thing won’t work for Weya, but the raft is wide open.”
“Swimming is wide open,” his tone suggestive.
Despite her tummy being in the way, Laureal pressed up against John, “You know good and well that she cannot keep running and swimming.” Then, with beseeching eyes, “John, if you would only make friends with her, I know she wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“We already have thirteen dogs and a horse on the raft.”
“So, what’s one more? John…please, take your hand off your knife and try. Okay?”
“Oh—” wagging his head.
“John.”
“Alright, alright!”
“Thank you!” her face lighting up only to then pause in thought, “Sweetheart, if by chance she does nip at you…it’s only because she’s jealous…that is, of you getting to have space around me.”
“If she nips at me, it will be the last time she ‘nips’ at anyone.”
“John!”
“What!”
“Don’t go doing anything rash! Weya can’t reason things out like we can. Her little growly-bity thing is only her way of saying she needs space. She does it all the time with her pups, but she loves them all the same. So, if that happens…we’ll just give her some space and let her calm down.” Then, pausing in thought, Laureal looked from John to Weya and back again, “You know what, I think you should approach her alone. That way, there’ll be no competition for attention.”
“Yeah…that way, if she does her ‘little growly-bity thing,’ you won’t be in the way when I give her the cold steel.”
Laureal narrowed her eyes, “You will do no such thing!”
“If she tries to bite me, I cannot be held responsible for her safety.”
Laureal let out a huff, “John…just make friends with her, okay.”
His lips pursed tight, John turned to the wolf, “If you don’t bite me…I won’t bite you.” Then, as he took a step forward, the wolf got up as if to move away.
“Weya,” said Laureal, “it’s okay, girl.”
Weya paused, understanding little of the command but everything of the tone.
“John, you need to be on her level.”
“What? You mean like…down on the ground?”
“Yes.”
John glanced back as if to question the sanity of his wife’s suggestion.
“She’ll be more relaxed if you’re on her level.”
Turning his eyes from wife to wolf, the Seeker slowly got down on one knee.
“Weya,” said Laureal, “it’s your turn, girl. Make friends with John.”
John slowly extended his hand, not fully, but partway.
“Don’t try to pet her, John. Not at first, anyway. And when you do, don’t put your hand on top of her head. And don’t stare at her.”
Cautiously, the wolf took a tiny step forward. Then, another tiny step and, leaning towards John, stretched her neck to sniff at his fingertips.
“Easy girl,” John said softly, pretending to look out over the water while, in reality, he watched the wolf from the corner of his eye.
With no more than an arm’s length between them, John slowly drew his hand in and placed it against his neck as if to casually support his head while still gazing out over the water. In truth, he was guarding his jugular vein and watching the wolf’s every move.
Weya took another tiny step forward, sniffing.
With his left hand on his neck, the horseman placed his right hand on the hilt of his knife.
“Sniff, sniff, sniff,” so close to his ear, he could feel her breath.
At that moment, Storm came and tried to horn in. Weya growled to warn him off, but the pup persisted, all the while wagging his tail.
Baring her large fangs, Weya snarled and snapped at Storm.
“Darling,” Laureal began from behind, “it’s nothing to worry about. She’s only telling Storm that she’s involved in important business and can’t be bothered.”
Some ten yards away, Onak looked on with spear in hand.
John shifted his eyes to the Inuk.
Grinning painfully, Onak saluted with his spear, and John, struck by how nutty it all was, began to smile.
“John,” said Laureal with hushed urgency, “don’t show her your teeth!”
Storm, yet smarting from getting nipped, moved a safe distance away to sit and watch.
Weya looked out over the water for a time. Then, seeming to relax, she turned to John, leaned in, and kissed his cheek.
Keeping his lips together, John smiled, half in shock and half in disbelief. And seeing the shine in his eyes, Weya kissed him again.
“That’s my girl!” Laureal chirped happily.
“What about me?” John asked, leaning away as the wolf tried to kiss him a third time.
“Pet her and make friends,” Laureal replied as though there could be no other way. “You can break off slowly and smoothly after a while. When you do, go get a piece of meat and offer it to her.”
Laureal turned to the Inuk, “You’re up next, Mr. Onak.”
“No, thank you,” sheepishly. “I’m good.”
“No, you have to do this. And so does Julian…and Anders when he returns.”
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