Constantin ran behind the Indian girl, holding her hand or a finger or two of her. He hardly realized why she had taken him away from the camp. He still ignored why she had taken him out of his sleep and led him into the depth of the forest. She stood by him and they saw from a distance a big fire lighting the wilderness.
“What’s this? Such a great fire!” Constantin exclaimed with surprise and wonder. Her soft voice replied: “This could have been you, oh boy, this could have been you turned to ashes and floating away with your soul,” she leaned on him and Constantin could feel warm tears run down her cheek and he at last realized the reason she had led him so far.
Sorrow covered his face all the same when he thought about his sailing friends. He knew where they were; he witnessed their suffering and felt sorry for them. Angry and ashamed of himself he wanted to do whatever he could to save them. But what could he really do? About to run towards the village, the Indian girl held him back and warned her lover about the determinedness of her father and the strength and pitilessness of his warriors. Helpless and ashamed and incapable Constantin stared through the branches while the fire diminished and he knew he would never forget this dreadful scene.
The British will had been stronger than the determination of the natives. The chief of the clan felt badly in the morning for he knew that these sailors men had trusted his people. He also knew that women and men and children – his people as it was – appreciated the company of the sailors. But most of all, the leader felt angry because his daughter had run away. He sent his men to find her but she had a night in advance and they did not have a clue as to where she could have gone. His wife cursed him over and over again and the old man felt ashamed while he realized he had been manipulated. Instead of appeasing the atmosphere the atmosphere grew denser still and his people were discontent. Trust had definitely gone.
The night was dead black. A thick fog hung in the trees and spread out onto the bay. The canoe glided silently towards wider waters. The daughter of the clan sat at the far end of the birch wood bark and looked at Constantin paddling. His shirt was ripped and torn apart, his muscles moved his chest. Sir La Valtrie did not really resemble the academic character who met the King of France. Deep in the forest or wilderness of an unknown world with a young native girl he merely knew since two days. And yet he was not afraid at all. His studies had somehow led him closer to the culture of the New World. His motivation was mainly accentuated by his desire to learn and discover new languages and traditions.
Through the rhythm produced by the waves little breathing sounds could be heard. These were the only sounds to be heard for a long time. The girl sat silently in front of the young man who paddled with all his might. She was fascinated by this man who had appeared out of nowhere. He had come from the other side of this great big sea. He embodied the great unknown for her. She did not share the common thoughts or opinions about strangers present in her village. She could sense that new challenges were at stake. The girl believed in providence and destiny. She could also discern the good and the bad. A good hand had settled on her village and she had been able to seize the opportunity.
“Behold, behind the bushes and branches, out on the foggy borders…” the man with the black cloak told his fellows.
“Lift your paddle, boy,” the hunter told the Indian. Their canoe floated through the muddy waters as the men looked attentively around.
The young couple came out of the thick cloud and their boat glided at a short distance from the other one.
“Brethren, be peace your friend and guide,” the red-bearded man called at them. Constantin lifted his paddle like the Indian and stared at the men.
After a short moment of mutual recognition the canoes moved closer to another and they began to speak.
“We are heading for the stronghold of Quebec Sir,” Constantin began. The monk realized the sailor’s French was irreproachable. He could sense that Constantin came from the old continent.
“You’re on the right way to reach Quebec, got to reach the big currents and paddle up the river. The Saguenay will eventually lead you to the civilized parts of the wilderness,” a little yet misleading smile alighted his face.
“But tell me now, my boy,” the man in black sarcastically and wickedly went on “where has gone the rest of your crew?”
Constantin bent his head low, the saddened man looked at his feet as a sign of mourning and in fear of confessing. He would always remember the words of the captain: “Do never accept defeat. Be proud of what you are, be proud of what you do, never betray your crew.” But where was the crew now? Gone, it had gone. And how could he be proud of what had happened to his friends? How could he be proud at all?
“The crew? There is no crew. There is no more crew, Sir.” When Constantin pronounced these words Truth hit him even harder and he sat back in the canoe. The Indian girl smiled back at the native guide and the couple’s canoe disappeared in the fog stretching out on the bay.
Each followed their route but the men knew what danger awaited them in the wilderness.
“Our mission will be hard to carry out,” the black robe began.
“We’ve got to watch out and negociate correctly with the Indians,” the hunter groaned out of his dirty beard.
“It is not so much the Indians I am afraid of, Jake, but the situation gets hard to handle,” the red-
bearded man replied.
“If no more crew, it means bigger tensions are at work,” the guide’s voice filled the air. He spoke on a low pitch, his voice conveyed security and calmness. The brave man went on:
“I know most of the tribes living on this coast, and I know their sole motivations are to welcome and deal with newcomers”.
“Yeah, but these strangers do have greater expectations and our motivations are not the same as theirs,” the hunter announced breaking the appeasing atmosphere.
“I would say both of your opinions are true. And both explanations do indeed make sense! Associated, this means the Indians were under the influence of exterior forces.”
A cold wind cooled the faces of the men and the cloak of the man with the bible almost slipped from his back. The chill was present in the air and ran through their bodies and souls.
“This could mean the beginning of a war and we are living the first days of it, and we are in the heart of it!” the hunter pronounced as he pulled out a cigarette.
“Our mission is to preach the Holy Bible and our ambition as missioners is to Christianize natives. In alliance with the French Sovereign we must convey the Indians of good sense and prevent that they support the red hats.”
© 2016 Matt Oehler
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