Chapter Thirty-Seven
The next day, instead of sending Hearn back to the men’s house, Magnus Norton insists that he stay on in the apartments until he has fully recovered from the effects of his journey.
Hearn wonders, when the invitation is first made, whether Norton doubts his version of events and wishes to keep him close so as to question him more carefully and catch him in a lie.
But after several more days and several more conversations in which the governor does not appear suspicious in the least, he concludes, with some relief, that Norton’s hospitality is motivated more by a residual fear of exposure than by any suspicions about what may or may not have happened up at Ox Lake.
Despite my promises to keep silent, Hearn thinks, he’s still afraid that I’ll talk out of turn.
He knows that if the rich men in London who guard the Company’s business ever learn the truth, he will be prosecuted for fraud and embezzlement, and that once they begin to dig more deeply into his affairs, they will uncover other crimes as bad or even worse.
If John Shaw were still alive, he thinks, he and Norton might try to scare or bully me into silence, but all alone now and in this aged and weakened state—he complains every day of gout and headaches—he seeks instead to woo me.
Although Hearn has no wish to become Magnus Norton’s friend or accomplice, since he knows that the old man, notwithstanding his current attempts to appear genial, is rapacious and vindictive at heart, he also understands that pretending to play such a role will help conceal his true intentions.
So when, about a week after his return, Norton offers unexpectedly to promote him to deputy in John Shaw’s place, though he pretends at first to be reluctant, and is, in truth, much surprised by the offer, he allows himself, after an appropriate amount of friendly haggling, to be persuaded to accept.
The news of this sudden elevation, when it becomes more widely known, is not met with universal approval.
The other officers, several of whom had ambitions of their own, are perplexed and resentful.
Why should Tom Hearn, of all people, they ask each other, a man who has shown until now no aptitude for command and no interest in the methods and strategies of the trade, be suddenly raised up to this new eminence?
It appears whimsical and capricious on Norton’s part, yet Magnus Norton is not a whimsical or capricious man, so it must, they decide, have some deeper meaning.
The only credible explanation they can arrive at is that Hearn is being rewarded for loyalty and silence.
Whatever happened on the expedition to the copper mines, and howsoever Shaw and Walker died, Norton, it seems, doesn’t want the true facts of the matter widely known, and so has bribed Tom Hearn to keep him quiet.
They cannot blame him for taking what was offered—given such an opportunity, few among them would say no—but that doesn’t mean in their opinion that Hearn should be applauded or admired for his achievement.
He is not a man who ever excited much affection in his fellows, but now they are forced to wonder if his quietness was really a sign of secret ambition, and if all along, as he sat there in a brooding silence, he was really in his heart plotting how to leave them behind.
As the weeks go past and the dark and bitter cold of a Hudson’s Bay winter descends upon the Fort, business in the trading room slows, but other necessary labors continue on as usual.
The hunting and wooding parties still venture out each week, so far as the weather allows them to; through boreholes on the iced-over river there is fishing for tittemeg and salmon, and the remaining men are kept busy clearing snow and ice from roofs and paths and making any necessary improvements or repairs to walls and buildings.
Norton’s health is poor—he suffers from migraines, dropsy, and occasional fainting fits—so he keeps mostly to his own apartments, where he passes his days giving instructions and writing in his ledgers, and his evenings drinking warm bumbo and playing at cribbage or drafts.
It falls to Hearn as his deputy, wrapped up against the cold in his banian and elk-skin britches, to oversee the outside work, pass on messages, and report back whenever problems or misunderstandings arise.
After some awkwardness at the beginning, he has settled into the role, and even finds some satisfaction in exercising his new responsibilities.
His strength is restored after the rigors of the journey and, since he is rarely idle now, the gloom and melancholy that beset him in previous years are given little chance to flourish, so his spirits remain high.
He knows from careless remarks and overheard conversations that there are strange and scandalous rumors circulating in the men’s house about what happened on the Barren Grounds and his part in it, but he’s confident that these whisperings do not get anywhere near the truth of the matter, and if they ever come to Norton’s attention, he will dismiss them as gossip born of jealousy and nothing more.
Since his arrival, he has not dared to go back again to the hiding place, but he thinks of the gold every day, silently asleep like a creature in its burrow, and feels its subtle influence in everything he says and does.
Although the trade reduces in the wintertime, it doesn’t cease completely.
They still, now and then, receive native visitors with furs to sell, so Hearn is not surprised one afternoon in late December when, on returning from the wooding camp, Haycock the gatekeeper informs him that two Northern Indians have recently arrived and are waiting for him in the yard.
“Carter is keeping an eye on them for now,” he says. “I told Mister Norton they’re here, but Mister Norton says since it’s only the two of ’em you should be able to manage it alone.”
Hearn takes a few minutes to prepare the trading room properly.
He sets out three chairs and lays out a dish of bread and prunes and a tin tray with pipes and the best tobacco, then calls to Carter to bring the Indians inside.
Both men are tall and lean with wire loops in their ears and hazy blue lines tattooed across their cheeks and noses.
The older one, who says his name is Mackachy, has a familiar look about him, but when Hearn asks if he’s ever visited the Fort before, he shakes his head.
“We’ve come to speak to Shaw,” he says. “John Shaw, the deputy.”
Hearn wonders how they can know John Shaw’s name if they’ve never visited the Fort before, then decides that someone else must have vouched for him.
“I’m sorry to say that Shaw is dead,” he explains. “But I can pay you just as generously for your furs. If you tell me what you have, we can reach an agreement quickly, I’m certain.”
Mackachy and the other one, whose name is Oule-Eye, whisper to each other for a few moments, then Mackachy asks Hearn how John Shaw died.
“He drowned while crossing a river.”
“When did he drown?”
Hearn, surprised by the extent of their interest, smiles and shrugs.
“Three months ago—four, perhaps—but as I say, I’m willing to offer you just the same terms as he would have, so nothing is different.”
“We met John Shaw near Pike Lake. He made us some promises.”
Hearn has no idea where Pike Lake is or why John Shaw should ever have been there. He begins to wonder if the Indians are trying to trick him in some way.
“Promises of what kind?” he says.
“I lent him my son Ministik as a guide, and he told me he would give me powder, tobacco, and brandy in return.”
Hearn stiffens in his chair and feels a sudden coldness in his chest. Before answering, he pauses for a moment to think through the implications of this unexpected news.
“Do you know where your son is now? Have you spoken to him lately?”
“I haven’t seen or spoken to my son since I left him with John Shaw. I thought he would be waiting here. That’s what we agreed.”
Hearn shakes his head and frowns.
“I was a member of John Shaw’s party, so I know your son, and I can tell you he never reached the Fort.
He abandoned us two hundred miles from here and ran off with an Indian girl.
I don’t know where they went to, but probably Goose Lake.
That’s where her people are from. You should go there now and look for him. ”
Mackachy narrows his eyes and looks briefly perplexed. He asks the name of the girl and the name of her father, and then, after whispering to Oule-Eye for a minute, looks back at Hearn.
“We’ll go to Goose Lake to look for my son,” he says, “but we still need our payment before we leave. If you were one of Shaw’s party, then you must know what we were promised, and if Ministik took you halfway, then we should get at least half the reward. That’s only just.”
Given the fatal consequences of Ministik’s betrayal, Hearn would happily send them away with nothing at all, but he realizes, given the circumstances, that it would be wise to consult with Magnus Norton first. When the chief learns the true purpose of their visit, and their connection to Shaw, he will want to speak to these two himself, Hearn assumes.
Who knows? he thinks. Although it seems unlikely, perhaps if Norton is feeling softhearted he may even agree to honor some portion of his friend’s last bequest. He explains that he needs to consult with the chief factor before going any further with this matter, then he stands up and is moving toward the door when a newly troubling thought suddenly strikes him.
“At Pike Lake, when you met John Shaw and he made you those promises, did he also explain what we were doing so far from home?”
“He said you were looking for the yellow metal. He showed us the bag you brought back full of it.”
Hearn looks at him, then slowly nods.
“So he showed you the bag full of gold?”
“Yes, gold, that’s what he called it. He showed us the bag and said it was very precious to him but no use to us. No use at all. I remember that.”
Hearn stands where he is for a moment, halfway between the chair and the door, and then he turns, sits back down, and, trying his best to look careless and unconcerned, picks up a pipe from the table and stuffs it with tobacco.
He feels angry with himself for having allowed this to happen, but he knows he must keep calm and not let the anger show in his face or in the tone of his voice.
I’ve made a bad mistake, he thinks. I should have seen this coming and had some better plan prepared, but now they’re here, all I can do is keep them quiet and send them away as quickly as possible.
As long as Norton doesn’t speak to them first or learn their true reasons for coming, my secret should still be safe.
“I can give you something small, perhaps,” he says. “A gift since you’ve come so far.”
“You’ll give us what John Shaw promised us? What we’ve asked for? The muskets, powder, and brandy?”
Hearn hesitates a moment before answering because he knows that if he concedes too much too quickly, the Indians will sense a weakness and demand even more.
If he is to avoid their lingering on in hope of further gifts to come, he must appear generous, he realizes, but also, and more important, strong.
“Not all of it,” he says. “No. I can’t do that. But something.”
“Half of it, then, because he brought you halfway?”
Hearn pauses again so as not to appear too eager, then nods and thinly smiles.
“Half, then,” he says. “Very well. I can give you that, but only if you promise to leave here right away without talking to anyone else. Just take the gifts, then go and don’t ever come back. Is that agreed?”