Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Fort Desolation: Red Indians and Fur Traders of Rupert's Land by R. M. Ballantyne (highly illogical behavior .TXT) 📖
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «Fort Desolation: Red Indians and Fur Traders of Rupert's Land by R. M. Ballantyne (highly illogical behavior .TXT) 📖». Author R. M. Ballantyne
“And so, you take upon you to desert your post,” thundered Jack.
“Vraiment, oui,” coolly replied Ladoc.
Jack clenched his fist and sprang at the man as a bull-terrier might leap on a mastiff. Almost in the act of striking he changed his mind, and, instead of delivering one of those scientific blows with which he had on more than one occasion in his past history terminated a fight at its very commencement, he seized Ladoc by the throat, tripped up his heels, and hurled him to the ground with such force, that he lay quite still for at least half a minute! Leaving him there to the care of O’Donel, who had returned, Jack went up to his bedroom, shut the door, thrust his hands into his pockets, and began to pace the floor rapidly, and to shake his head. Gradually his pace became slower, and the shaking of his head more sedate. Presently he soliloquised in an undertone.
“This won’t do, John Robinson. You’ve let off too much steam. Quite against your principles to be so violent—shame on you, man. Yet after all it was very provoking to be made such a fool of before that insolent fellow. Poor Teddy—I wish I hadn’t hit you such a slap. But, after all, you deserved it, you superstitious blockhead. Well, well, it’s of no use regretting. Glad I didn’t hit Ladoc, though, it’s too soon for that. Humph! the time has come for action, however. Things are drawing to a point. They shall culminate to-morrow. Let me see.”
Here Jack’s tones became inaudible, and he began to complete his toilette. His thoughts were busy—to judge from his knitted brows and compressed lips. The decision of his motions at last showed that he had made up his mind to a course of action.
It was with a cleared brow and a self-possessed expression of countenance that he descended, a few minutes later, to the hall, and summoned O’Donel.
That worthy, on making his appearance, looked confused, and began to stammer out—
“I beg parding, sur, but—but raally, you know—it, it was all owin’ to them abominable ghosts.”
Jack smiled, or rather, tried to smile, but owing to conflicting emotions the attempt resulted in a grin.
“Let bygones be bygones,” he said, “and send Ladoc here.”
Ladoc entered with a defiant expression, which was evidently somewhat forced.
Jack was seated at a table, turning over some papers. Without raising his head, he said—
“Be prepared to start for the fishery with me in half-an-hour, Ladoc.”
“Monsieur?” exclaimed the man, with a look of surprise.
Jack raised his head and looked at him. It was one of his peculiar looks.
“Did you not understand me?” he said, jumping up suddenly.
Ladoc vanished with an abrupt, “Oui, monsieur,” and Jack proceeded, with a real smile on his good-humoured face, to equip himself for the road.
In half an hour the two were walking silently side by side at a smart pace towards the fishery, while poor Teddy O’Donel was left, as he afterwards said, “all be his lone wid the ghost and the newly buried ooman,” in a state of mental agony, which may, perhaps, be conceived by those who possess strong imaginations, but which cannot by any possibility be adequately described.
The monotony of the night march to the fishery was enlivened by the unexpected apparition of a boat. There was just enough of moonlight to render it dimly visible a few hundred yards from the shore.
“Indians!” exclaimed Ladoc, breaking silence for the first time since they set out.
“The stroke is too steady and regular for Indians,” said Jack. “Boat ahoy!”
“Shore ahoy!” came back at once in the ringing tones of a seaman’s voice.
“Pull in; there’s plenty of water!” shouted Jack.
“Ay, ay,” was the response. In a few seconds the boat’s keel grated on the sand, and an active sailor jumped ashore. There were five other men in the boat.
“Where have you dropped from?” enquired Jack. “Well, the last place we dropped from,” answered the seaman, “was the port quarter davits of the good ship Ontario, Captain Jones, from Liverpool to Quebec, with a general cargo; that was last night, and ten minutes afterwards, the Ontario dropped to the bottom of the sea.”
“Wrecked!” exclaimed Jack.
“Just so. Leastwise, sprung a leak and gone to the bottom.”
“No hands lost, I hope?”
“No, all saved in the boats; but we parted company in the night, and haven’t seen each other since. Is there any port hereabouts, where we could get a bit o’ summat to eat?”
“There is, friend. Just pull six miles farther along shore as you are going, and you’ll come to the place that I have the honour and happiness to command—we call it Fort Desolation. You and your party are heartily welcome to food and shelter there, and you’ll find an Irishman in charge who will be overjoyed, I doubt not, to act the part of host. To-morrow night I shall return to the fort.”
The shipwrecked mariners, who were half-starved, received this news with a cheer, and pushing off, resumed their oars with fresh vigour, while Jack and his man continued their journey.
They reached the fishery before dawn, and, without awakening the men, retired at once to rest.
Before breakfast, Jack was up, and went out to inspect the place. He found that his orders, about repairing the roof of the out-house and the clearing up, had not been attended to. He said nothing at first, but, from the quiet settled expression of his face, the men felt convinced that he did not mean to let it pass.
He ordered Ladoc to repair the roof forthwith, and bade Rollo commence a general clearing-up. He also set the other men to various occupations, and gave each to understand, that when his job was finished he might return to breakfast. The result of this was, that breakfast that morning was delayed till between eleven and twelve, the fishery speedily assumed quite a new aspect, and that the men ate a good deal more than usual when they were permitted to break their fast.
After breakfast, while they were seated outside the door of their hut smoking, Jack smoked his pipe alone by the margin of the river, about fifty yards off.
“Monsieur be meditating of something this morning,” observed little François Xavier, glancing at Rollo with a twinkle in his sharp grey eye.
“He may meditate on what he likes, for all that I care,” said Rollo with a scornful laugh. “He’ll find it difficult to cow me, as I’ll let him know before long.”
Ladoc coughed, and an unmistakable sneer curled his lip as he relighted his pipe. The flushed face of Rollo showed what he felt, but, as nothing had been said, he could not with propriety give vent to his passion.
At that moment Jack Robinson hailed Ladoc, who rose and went towards him. Jack said a few words to him, which, of course, owing to the distance, could not be heard by the men. Immediately after, Ladoc was seen to walk away in the direction of an old Indian burying-ground, which lay in the woods about a quarter of a mile from the fishery.
Five minutes later Jack hailed Rollo, who obeyed the summons, and after a few words with his master, went off in the same direction as Ladoc. There seemed something mysterious in these movements. The mystery was deepened when Jack hailed François Xavier, and sent him after the other two, and it culminated when Jack himself, after allowing five minutes more to elapse, sauntered away in the same direction with a stout cudgel under his arm. He was soon lost to view in the woods.
Each of the three men had been told to go to the burying-ground, and to wait there until Jack himself should arrive. Ladoc was surprised on receiving the order, but, as we have seen, obeyed it. He was more than surprised, however, when he saw Rollo walk into the enclosure, and still more astonished when François followed in due course. None of the three spoke. They felt that Jack would not keep them long in suspense, and they were right. He soon appeared—smoking calmly.
“Now, lads,” said he, “come here. Stand aside, François. I have brought you to this place to witness our proceedings, and to carry back a true report to your comrades. Ladoc and Rollo, (here Jack’s face became suddenly very stern; there was something intense, though not loud, in his voice), you have kept my men in constant hot water by your quarrelling since you came together. I mean to put an end to this. You don’t seem to be quite sure which of you is the best man. You shall settle that question this day, on this spot, and within this hour. So set to, you rascals! Fight or shake hands. I will see fair play!”
Jack blazed up at this point, and stepped up to the men with such a fierce expression, that they were utterly cowed.
“Fight, I say, or shake hands, or—” Here Jack paused, and his teeth were heard to grate harshly together.
The two bullies stood abashed. They evidently did not feel inclined to “come to the scratch.” Yet they saw by the peculiar way in which their master grasped his cudgel, that it would be worse for both of them if they did not obey.
“Well,” said Ladoc, turning with a somewhat candid smile to Rollo, “I’s willin’ to shake hands if you be.”
He held out his hand to Rollo, who took it in a shamefaced sort of way and then dropped it.
“Good,” said Jack; “now you may go back to the hut; but, walk arm in arm. Let your comrades see that you are friends. Come, no hesitation!”
The tone of command could not be resisted; the two men walked down to the river arm in arm, as if they had been the best of friends, and little François followed—chuckling!
Next day a man arrived on foot with a letter to the gentlemen in charge of Fort Desolation. He and another man had conveyed it to the fort in a canoe from Fort Kamenistaquoia.
“What have we here?” said Jack Robinson, sitting down on the gunwale of a boat and breaking the seal.
The letter ran as follows:—
“Fort Kamenistaquoia, etcetera, etcetera.
“My Dear Jack,
“I am sorry to tell you that the business has all gone to sticks and stivers. We have not got enough of capital to compete with the Hudson’s Bay Company, and I may remark, privately, that if we had, it would not be worth while to oppose them on this desolate coast. The trade, therefore, is to be given up, and the posts abandoned. I have sent a clerk to succeed you and wind up the business, at Fort Desolation, as I want you to come here directly, to consult as to future plans.
“Your loving but unfortunate friend,
“J. Murray.”
On reading this epistle, Jack heaved a deep sigh.
“Adrift again!” he muttered.
At that moment his attention was arrested by the sound of voices in dispute. Presently the door of the men’s house was flung open, and Rollo appeared with a large bundle on his shoulders. The bundle contained his “little all.” He was gesticulating passionately to his comrades.
“What’s wrong now?” said Jack to François, as the latter came towards him.
“Rollo he go ’way,” said François. “There be an Indian come in hims canoe, and Rollo make up his mind to go off vid him.”
“Oh! has he?” said Jack, springing up and walking rapidly towards the hut.
Now it must be told here that, a few days before the events we are describing, Jack had given Rollo a new suit of clothes from the Company’s store, with a view to gain his regard by kindness, and attach him to the service, if possible. Rollo was clad in this suit at the time, and he evidently meant to carry it off.
Jack crushed back his anger as he came up, and said in a calm, deliberate voice, “What now,
Comments (0)