Labrie’s Wife

[BEING AN EXCERPT FROM THE MANUSCRIPT JOURNAL OF ARCHIBALD MUIR, CLERK OF THE HONOURABLE THE HUDSON’S BAY COMPANY, AT NEPIGON HOUSE IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1815.]

May Twenty-second, 1815

TO-DAY something happened which is bound to be of consequence in this outlandish place, and that I will set down here and make of record. Alec, who is getting more gumption now, although as unsteady in all his performances as he was ever, returned from his trip to the Flat Rock, and arrived safe with his two canoes and Ogemah-ga-bow, little Needic and his two sons. It appears they had, by reason of the rough weather, to lay by at Dry Beaver Islands and had like to have starved if the wind had not gone down, for these fools of Indians will never learn not to devour half their rations in the first day out from the Post. They came in looking like wasps, their belts girt so tightly about their middles.

I could tell the moment I clapped eyes upon Alec that he had some bee in his bonnet, for he can no more control his countenance than an otter can help fishing. His face was all of a jump, and he spoke as if he had no spittal under his tongue. I have a plan to let the youngster speak when he is ready, and by this means I have the enjoyment of witnessing him cast about to get me to question him and assist him out with his story. When we were having a bit of dinner he fairly simmered, but he did not boil until I lit my pipe. Then he could stand my coolness no longer.

“We’re to have an opposition!” he blurted out. I did not want to show any astonishment, but I nearly dropped my pipe, such a matter never having been thought of in the Nepigon before. “You see,” he went on, “I determined when I was at that part of the lake to go over to Keg Island and see if the cache was all right, and on St. Paul’s Island, when we went ashore to roast some fish, we found two canoes loaded, and a Frenchman and three Indians.”

“He asked me if I was with the English, and I lied to him straight enough, and said No! I was trading alone. Then he wanted to know where our Post was, and I said it was beyond the large island to the west. He said his name was Labrie, and that he was for the North West Company, and was sent in opposition to the English on the lake. So I decided to camp where I was, and not to go to Keg Island, but to come on here. I told him to keep due west, and not to land until he struck the big island, which was Cariboo Island, and not for any reason to camp on a little flat island half way there, which was full of snakes.”

The youngster was mighty proud of himself at outwitting the Frenchman, but, to take down his pride a bit, I provoked him by saying, “Well, poor Donald used to call you a clavering idiot, but if he had lived to this day he’d have had to invent a new kind of word for you. If your Labrie is anything of a trader he watched you away in the morning, and he will treat us in good Hudson’s Bay Company rum when we first meet, having visited your little flat island full of snakes.” Off went Alec trying to bite his beard, aping Donald’s manner, poor lad; but he has yet a beard no longer than a pinfeather.

May Twenty-third, 1815

I was up before sun this day, as I had a restless night, thinking what I should do now we were to have opposition on the lake, a thing new to me who have scant experience. I determined to be smooth with them and observe them closely, and spoil them if I might with a fair face, and in all events to fight them with what weapons they may choose. I had wakened from a light doze with the sudden thought that I should possess myself of the point of land below the Post where I have always said the buildings should have been placed, which commands and oversees our present position. If it were seized by these pirates of Frenchmen, what then would become of our trade? They would eat it like a bear eats honey-comb. Alec could not see that, and provoked me with much grumbling that it was a useless work and a weary waste of muscle. It is curious how blockheaded he is about all matters connected with trade: he has some acuteness belike but of what sort God alone knows. In the end I was mightily satisfied to see a stout staff with the ensign flying, and a small boat-landing, with one of the boats moored. We had the work done before mid-day, and for the rest of the time I had pleasure in looking down at the point which had an inhabited and secure look, under the Hudson’s Bay Company’s flag. If the Frenchmen have any idea of the shore about here there will be some sacréing when they find the point taken up, for northwards there is no place for a foothold, and only in a cove, half a mile to the south, can they find level land enough for building upon. So when our Indians come down, and they should be here in a matter of four weeks, they are bound to reach the Post first, and I can keep my eye upon the rascals, who would, if they could, trade with the newcomers and forget old kindnesses and obligations.

May Twenty-fourth, 1815

Ogemah-ga-bow came up to say that one of Needic’s boys had died last night, having over-eaten himself after his fast on the Dry Beaver Islands. Rain to-day.

May Twenty-sixth, 1815

Sun-down yesterday on my bench before the door, whereby Needic had made a smudge to keep off the flies, which are now very bad, when I saw a canoe that was none of ours land at the point, and a man step out onto the new boat landing. He looked all about him as if he was making an inventory of the place, and then he came slowly up the hill. He was a stout-shouldered, low-set fellow, with a black beard and small, bad eyes. Said I to myself as I saw him approach, “There is something mainly dishonest in your make-up, my man, and whatever one may have to do to keep trade from you it won’t be very savoury in the doing if your methods are to be used.”

“My name’s Labrie,” he said, running his hand through his hair.

I got upon my legs and said politely, “I heard of your being in the Lake from my man. Will you be seated?”

He said” No” and looked over his shoulder at the Point.

“You have the Point under your flag,” he remarked.

“Aye,” I said, as dry as I could.

“The work has marks of newness.”

“You are right, it was only finished yesterday.”

The blood came into his face in an ugly way.

“Well, there can be no great objection to my trading a little.”

“Not there,” said I bluntly. “Under my company’s flag what we take we claim and keep.”

He breathed rather heavily, but held his tongue, and was going to walk away.

“Hold on,” said I, “strangers are not treated so here, you must have a dram.”

I called Alec, who brought the rum and the glasses. We drank healths courteously, that were ready to cut one another’s throats.

“Did you ever taste better than that?” said I.

“I have as good,” said he, “though it is the best, I can match it.”

“Match it!” said I in a tone of surprise, winking at Alec, who flew as red as a bubble jock. We parted then but just as he was getting away he said over his shoulder, “Your man there has a damned queer idea of direction.”

May Twenty-seventh, 1815

Sent Needic and his live boy and Ogemah-ga-bow’s brother to Poplar Lodge, to have news of the hunters. The Osnaburgh packs from the north should now be two weeks out, unless the ice is later this year than last. To-morrow I will put Alec and Ogemah-ga-bow to work clearing out the storehouse and setting things to rights. I am much exercised in mind over my responsibilities. It was bad enough last year, but now I have the whole management, and this opposition to contend with upon the back of it. I begin to be worn with it, what with loss of sleep at night, and thinking about nought else in the day. No sign of Labrie or any of his party.

May Thirtieth, 1815

This morning Labrie came up to borrow an adze, which I lent to him without any question. He seemed to want to be civil enough. When I asked him, however, if Madame Labrie had arrived, he seemed quite put about and mumbled something in his beard, which sounded nearly like “What affair is that of yours?” I paid no attention to him, not wishing to quarrel yet awhile, and without any further parley off he went with the adze, which I am fortunate if I ever see again.

Heat intense to-day, bringing on a great storm of thunder and much rain. Had a great debate with Alec, when we were indoors, as to when the Osnaburgh packs will be in. I calculate in three weeks, as the water is like to be high, they will take the route through Mud Lakes to Negodina, as I wrote Godfrey. The old route to Wabinosh would take them much longer and, what with broken water and two desperate, long carries, there is a great risk of loss by that way. Alec thinks they will be down sooner. There is no doubt they have had a fine winter and if the pack can be safely landed it will be a great matter, and no doubt I shall hear good of it from the partners.

May Thirty-first, 1815

This morning when I was cleaning my pistols I heard a clear sound of laughter. Now laughter is an uncommon thing in this country, visiting us very infrequently. To be sure the Indians laugh, but that to me always has an unmeaning sound, and sometimes a bestial. Moreover, this laughter was different in kind, and one must have listened to it however absorbed he might have been. It was high-pitched and very clear and had something merry and withal innocent about it. It was contagious also and the mere sound of it made my very muscles twitch. There was no one visible, but after I had gazed awhile I saw Alec come up the steps from the warehouse. Not to appear interested before the lad I went back to my work. After a little he came in. I noticed his face was flushed and his manner excited. I paid no attention to him until he had knocked a dish off the table. It broke into three pieces. I was angry with him, good crockery not being by any means very plentiful in this country.

“Good God, man!” I cried. “If you’re in such a state that you cannot avoid breaking the dishes, will you lie upon your bed for a while.” He glared at me terribly, but had not a word to say. Then I kept quiet for as much as a quarter of an hour, and I could see it was fretting him; he fidgeted about greatly. Then he got up and went to the door.

“It seems to me you take mighty small interest in things.”

I said never a word.

“Are you deaf this morning?”

I made no sound. He made no move for a minute, then he said, just as he was going out of the door, in an exasperated way, “That was Labrie’s wife.”

I could have laughed to myself, but when I had thought upon it for a time I began to perceive something bitter in his tone, and I reflected that of late I had treated him much as poor Donald used unthinkingly to treat me, and that he must be occupying my old position of complaint, and my heart was softened a bit, and I resolved to be more kind to him in future, who is in much a good boy and canny in a sort about many things.

June First, 1815

I saw Labrie’s wife for the first time this morning. An uncommon looking wench, with black hair and eyes and a mouthful of white teeth. I discussed her thoroughly with Alec, who sticks up for it that she is a handsome one. So she is, after her manner, though that I do not acknowledge to Alec. She looked me all over as if I were for sale, and when I coolly turned my back on her, that she might have a good look at that, she went off in a mighty huff.

Alex reports that there are two other women in Labrie’s party, rather old and haggish. I have not clapped eyes upon them, not having visited the Cove. Although she went off in a huff, the young wench is a merry one, and it amuses her to hear Alec so aboundingly polite to her with his “Madame Labrie”. “Madame Labrie” this and “Madame Labrie” that, whereupon she giggles or breaks out into wild laughter.

June Third, 1815

Needic back from Poplar Lodge, where everything is all right. Had an amusing conversation with the lad Alec anent Labrie’s wife. The hussy comes about the house constantly, even when we are not here.

“Now what is she after?” said I.

“You have no understanding of women,” he replied. “Of course she will come back when you treat her in that way.”

“Now in what way?” said I. “Never do I look at her or pass the time of day with her.”

“That is it,” he retorts. “You are fairly insulting her, and she comes back.”

“Do you try and be sweet to her and mayhap she would stay away.”

“It is different with me,” he says, biting his whiskers (?) and shrugging up his shoulders, just as the wench does herself. He has taken on a sort of mincing, balancing, half-Frenchified accent, and shrugs his shoulders.

“Are you afrait she would fall into the love weez you, Alec?” I remarked, trying hard to imitate the accent.

“It is not me she will be in love with.”

“No, who then? Needic?”

“Needic!” he cried, going off with a great French shrug.

June Fourth, 1815

No word from Godfrey about the packs. I am getting a trifle anxious. Alec says there are more guns than yardsticks in Labrie’s quarters, and makes out they are on for a fight. Labrie’s wife came up at noon and made us an omelette with gull’s eggs and fresh onion-tops. She is a clever wench and sat looking at me as I devoured it. I talked a bit to her. After she left, Alec sat frowning.

“You were very free with her.”

“I merely spoke to her, but then she made a good omelette.”

“You said too much to her. You nearly told her we expected the packs at Negodina by the Mud Lake route this year instead of Wabinosh.”

“Well, and if I did?” “It is all she wanted to know.”

“Well, you seem to be always ready to stand up for the spy, if she be one,” said I, turning the French accent upon him. This made him wroth, as it always does.

“You never seem to understand that a woman’s not like a man. The best of them you have to watch, and more particularly when one of them is in love with you.”

“That does not apply here,” I said, “unless you have her assurances yourself.”

“I would not make love to a married woman,” he said hotly.

“That’s why you guard yourself so carefully, is it? You are mighty pious. It is a pity you are not like me. Now for me Mr. Labrie’s wife has no attraction whatever, commandments or no commandments.”

This set him off again.

“Be careful you, Archibald Muir, that is what I have to say to you.”

We could hear the lady herself laughing down at the landing, and it sounded so innocent that I could not refrain from smiling at the boy.

June Fifth, 1815

We had a scene last night with Labrie’s wife, for which Alec has to be thanked, and in which I think he had a small revenge for my baiting of him. I will set down the occurrence here although it be against myself, and our national instrument. She had been hardly before the house, and it was in the dusk of the evening, when she asked me to play upon the pipes.

“Will you play upon the bag-pipes, Mr. Muir?” she said in a very civil voice. “I have never heard the bag-pipes.”

Now I am always at pains to oblige a lady, if it be possible, so I went in and got the pipes, hearing Alec urge me also, so I had two willing to be pleased.

Well, scarcely had I begun to get the skin filled with wind when Labrie’s wife began to laugh. Now I am willing to admit that the foreword to a performance on the pipes may be dispiriting, but I charge that what follows after when the instrument is well controlled, and when the melody pours forth in full cry, would serve to obliterate a greatly more dispiriting prelude. But in this case I did not get beyond that stage, for Labrie’s wife laughed with so little judgment that I was put about. I saw something in Alec’s face which led me to think that the whole matter was preconceived by him, and with that I laid down my pipes on the bench beside me. Not another note would I play. I am not much versed in women’s ways, and what Labrie’s wife did puzzled me. But of that I shall give Alec’s explanation. At first she kept on laughing, and then she stopped suddenly and came forward looking sober enough, but with the wrinkles of the laughter not yet gone out of her face. There she stood about four feet from me with a bit of her dress in her hand, as I have seen school girls stand abashed having been found at fault.

“You are angry because I laughed?” she said.

I did not answer.

“Are you angry with me because I could not help laughing?”

I did not answer.

Then she came close to me and made as if to put her hands upon my shoulders, and when I looked straight upon her eyes she dropped her hands, made a sound in her throat, and turned and went away.

Then young Alec began to strut about like a bantam cock.

“I have to thank you for that performance,” I said.

“Why would you prevent a woman from laughing?” says he, in a rage. “Don’t you know enough of women to let them laugh and let them talk.”

“I can lay no claim to such a knowledge as yourself,” said I, in a mighty sneering voice. “In truth I know naught about them.”

“You have proved that this night,” retorted Alec.

“Expound that, you young oracle,” said I.

“Expound? You have sent her away with a sore heart, and she was minded to be playful with you, and that cuts sore on a heart such as hers. Don’t you see it, man?” he cried, sort of dashing his hands down.

“I see nothing of the sort. She was angry simply because I wouldn’t speak back to her.”

“You might have spoken to her or not spoken, and she would never have minded if you hadn’t looked at her in the way you did.”

I saw it was no use my trying to fathom the young donkey, so I would speak no more to him.

June Sixth, 1825

Labrie’s wife was up last night but I would not go out to see her, being tired of the body and her endless chatter. Alec and she talked for an hour; the boy would be contented to go on vapouring forever, I believe. I pretended to be busy with my papers, and in the end she went away. She came to the window just before she went, and I heard her fingers on the sash, but I did not look up, and I heard her low gurgling laugh as she ran away from Alec, who would go down to the landing with her.

He is as polite to her and as formal as if he were living by a code of court etiquette. I twitted him with that.

“Well,” he says, mighty stiff, and pulling a solemn face, “she is a woman, and she is another man’s wife.”

“The last is her great virtue,” said I, with a tone of sarcasm, at which he looked scornful and exceeding pious.

June Seventh, 1815

Good news yesterday. Toma came in with a message from Godfrey. The Osnaburgh packs are safe at Cache Point on the Mud Lake route. The water is high and they have not had a mishap. In three days they should reach Negodina at the end of the lake. It is, as I have always said, a route more clean and handy than the Wabinosh route, and it will be adopted now from this out.

June Eighth, 1815

Woke up with a mighty sore head this morning and had words with Alec. It is inconceivable how domineering that lad has become.

“You were drinking with Madame Labrie last night,” he said.

“And my lord is jealous,” I replied, sneering at him.

“Ye have made a fool of yourself. What did you tell her?”

“Nothing that I rightly remember. Since when were you ordained my catechist?”

“Now I have told you many times,” he said in a parsoning way, “that you did not understand the nature of women, and that you would let slip something that Labrie wanted to know. Now you have done so, I believe, between a glass too much of whiskey and a pretty woman.”

“Do you call yon a pretty woman?” I said, mocking his accent.

“I pity you!” he said, with great contempt.

He went away swinging his shoulders, much more the master than the man.

To set down the truth, although it be against myself, Labrie’s wife came up in the evening of yesterday. I was more decent with the bitch, having had the good news, and I treated her to some whiskey, and drank with her. Alec was off watching Toma, as he thought Labrie might try to get hold of him. I do not just remember when she went away. God forgive me, I do not rightly remember anything about it.

Hardly had Alec dismissed himself when he came back very greatly excited, but in anger this time.

“They have gone,” said he.

“Who?” said I, not thinking for a moment.

“Who! My God! Who? Why Labrie.”

“Well what of that?” I said. “It is a good riddance of a vile lot of thieves out of God’s country.”

“That is all you see to it?” he said.

“Well, what more?” I replied.

“I seem to see that last night you told Madame Labrie the packs were coming by the Mud Lake route to Negodina, and that they have gone to stop them. I have my doubt they will not barter with them. I seem to see that they will capture the furs and that by no very gentle means.”

“You have said it before,” I cried out, wroth with him and with myself. “So yon slut is what I have always supposed her to be.”

A dark look came into his face. “Choose your words!” he cried, taking a step towards me.

“I’ll neither pick nor choose my words,” I said. “What do you call her then that would take our hospitality and then do us wrong?”

“Madaline would do no such thing,” he cried, strutting about in a way that looked comical to me. I laughed at him.

“Madaline! Madaline! We shall see what Madaline will have done when we lose our furs. Why, man, you said out of your own mouth that she had done it.”

“You lie,” he cried, but it was here not impudence, so I paid no attention to him.

After some parley and conversation, I sent him with three canoes and all the able men, except Needic, to Negodina to see what had fallen out. He is to send me back a letter, as soon as he can, with the word. I am here now quite alone, and in mind very much put about. I have been striving to recall what passed between Labrie’s wife and myself, but without any clear recollection. Ah, those women! I well remember my father used to say, “At the bottom of every trouble, there you will find a woman,” and my mother used to retort, “And likewise at the bottom of every happiness.” Whereupon he would kiss her.

June Tenth, 1815

Last night—waiting for word from Alec. This morning I went down to Labrie’s camp with Needic. They had left two tents and some rubbish, and a little green box marked “M. L.” Turning the lot over I found two empty kegs marked “H. B. Co.”, once full of rum, which they had stolen from the cache on Keg Island. So we heaped all together and set fire to it. It burned merrily, and they are at least by that much the poorer.

June Eleventh, 1815

I am in great spirits today. Last night I was wakened by Needic, who had his boy with him. Everything had reached Negodina safely, and there was no sign anywhere of Labrie’s party. They will push on at once.

June Twelfth, 1815

This morning Labrie came back. Needic came up and told me, so about noon I took my pistols and went down with him to the cove. They had one tent up and the women were making the fire. The men went off and none of them would speak to us. I stood smiling in a taunting way, and just as I was about to leave, Labrie’s wife came over to me. I perceived she had her arm wound in a cloth.

“Well, Madame Labrie, how did you hurt your arm?”

“Why do you call me Madame Labrie?” “One must call you something. My boy Alec calls you Madaline.”

Her face grew a darker red.

“You have been away for a while?”

“Yes,” she said, “we were at Wabinosh, and I see you burned my box when I was gone.

“Were you ever in love?” she asked suddenly.

“Never,” said I, “praise be to God.”

“When you are I pray heaven you may be tortured Ill it.”

“I am thankful for your good wishes.”

“The other night you told me your packs were coming by Negodina. You understand? It was Labrie who shot me through the arm. He wanted to kill me for ‘ taking them to Wabinosh, but the others would not let him.”

“The low rascal,” I said, “to shoot a woman.”

“And you have nothing to say about me?” She looked at me curiously, and put an odd emphasis on the you and the me.

“It is fortunate you made a mistake.”

“A mistake!” said she. “Your boy Alec is twice the man that you are.”

The hussy said that with a fluff of pride.

“Good-bye,” said I from my canoe.

“Is that all, Archibald Muir, is that all?”

“Good-bye,” said I,” and I hope your husband won’t shoot at you again.”

I looked back when we had gone a bit, and she still stood there. She did not make any sign towards me, though I waved to her in courtesy. Then she covered up her face in her hands.

No word of Godfrey and Alec. I sent Needic to Labrie’s wife with two gold guineas for the box I had burned, probably the only gold she ever clapped her eyes on, as it is unknown in this trade almost.

June Thirteenth, 1815

The packs came in yesterday evening. Godfrey and the men all well. I mixed a keg of spirits for them and they made a hideous night of it. Too busy to write much now, but can do nothing more to-night. Looking back in the store ledgers I can see no such winter’s catch. Great good luck. Labrie’s party still hanging around. Alec went down as soon as he got back, and stayed longer than he ought, so I berated him soundly. To-night at supper he said:

“Labrie shot her through the arm because she had taken them to Wabinosh and had misled them.”

I paid no attention to him. By and by he said:

“You will be glad to know that she says you told her nothing about the packs.”

“Did she?” said I, puzzled, as she had told me the contrary.

“I don’t believe her,” he added.

“You’re complimentary to the ladies,” I remarked.

“Here is something she asked me to give you.”

It was the money I had sent her for that box of hers I burnt.

June Fourteenth, 1815

Busy all day between the storehouse and the fur press. Half the Indians are drunk yet. Alec says Labrie and his party have gone. May the devil’s luck go with them. I thought Alec looked a trifle white in the face, and as if he was impatient to make me talk, but I had no time to be spending with him.

June Fifteenth, 1815

A wonderfully warm day, and the flies very bad, enough to madden one. Have pressed all the packs and now everything is in order for a move. What a grand night for the partners it will be when they see our canoes full of the finest come to land at Fort William. It should be of profit to me, and I expect to come back here or go somewhere a factor, if I comprehend the rules properly. About an hour ago I had just finished writing the last words when Alec’s shadow came over the window. He seemed to stand there over long, and I was just on the point of crying out to him when he moved off. In a moment he came in to me. I did not look up from my writing when he flung a scrap of paper down before me.

“There!” he said, in an odd voice. “I found it under the sash. It fell face down, so, as I saw printing on the back, I thought it was but a scrap torn off a fur bill.

“Read it,” said he.

I turned it over and observed that there were some words in writing on the other side. I made them out to be: “Why do you call me Labrie’s wife? She is my aunt. Do you think I would marry an ugly fellow like Labrie. They brought me up here to help their plans. We shall see. If you want to know my name it’s Madaline Lesage. I learned to write from the Sister St. Theresa at Wikwemikong. Is it not pretty? M.L.”

Then I recalled how she had come to the window, one night not very long ago, when I opine she had left the paper there.

“Well!” I said coolly, “and what is it now that you have to say about Madaline Lesage?”

His face had a tortured look upon it. He tried to speak. “She was—she was the bravest, the dearest”—he stopped there and hung down his head. “Oh, my God, you cannot understand. You can never understand!”

He moved away and stood by the door. I thought upon what he had said. No, I did not understand. Then I tried once more to go on with my page. But I was detained by a sound which is as uncommon as that of laughter in these outlandish parts. The sound of sobbing. Just for a moment it brought back to me the sound of my sister’s voice as she sobbed for her lover when they brought him back dead and dripping out of the sea. I had a vision of it as if it were snapped upon my eye in a flash of lightning, she leaning her forehead upon her wrists against the wall. I, looked up at Alec and there he was leaning at the door-post, his shoulders all moving with his sobs. I understood in a flash. I pray God to forgive me for the sin of blindness, and for always being so dead to others in my own affairs. I went towards him knowing that I could not give him any comfort. So he went out from the house and walked alone through the gloaming. I perceived that a change had come aver him. I had always considered him a bit of a boy to be ordered about, but there was a man walking away from me, resolute in his steps, big in his bulk, and weighed down as if he was carrying a load, bearing it as if he were proud of it, with energy and trust in himself.