Chapter Thirty-Eight #2
The two of them lift up Mackachy, who is still limp and unconscious, and swing him on top of the Indians’ sledge, and then Hearn helps Oule-Eye back up onto his feet and explains their intentions.
He’s reluctant to accompany them at first, but when Hearn promises he will be safe and will be given medicine for his head wound and a warm place to sleep, he agrees.
Haycock pulls the sledge through the gate and back into the courtyard, and Hearn and Oule-Eye follow after.
Once they are all inside the messroom of the men’s house, Edward Hutchins, who has been called down from his bedroom on the upper floor, examines the two visitors and declares that Oule-Eye’s wound, despite its gory appearance, is only superficial, and if the man is allowed to rest, he will quickly recover.
Mackachy’s case is, however, likely hopeless.
“The brain is fatally contused,” he says brusquely. “He may hold on to life for a day or two, I suppose, but no longer than that, and in truth, it’s just as likely he’ll be dead by the morning.”
Hearn, once the first shock of this dismaying news subsides, begins to parse its larger implications.
If Mackachy dies, he thinks, then Norton will need to be informed, and since such an event, if it becomes widely known among the natives, is likely to depress the trade, he will probably be displeased by the news.
All that is fixed now and can’t be altered, but unless Norton’s inevitable displeasure leads him to inquire more deeply into the motives of the visitors—and why should it?
—then, Hearn concludes, after considering the matter for a minute or two, there is little to fear beyond the minor discomfort of a reprimand.
He could still confess the whole truth, of course, and hope that Norton would be willing to share the gold, but the thought of binding himself to Norton in that way, of becoming his partner and accessory, still repels him.
No, he thinks; there’s no need to change my predetermined course.
So long as I hold my nerve a little longer, and make sure Oule-Eye disappears in the morning, then I should still be safe, and my grip on the gold will be as firm as ever.
What happened to Mackachy was a bad mistake, a blunder, but it can’t be helped now.
What’s done is done, and it will do no one any good if I allow my natural sympathies to distract me from my deeper purpose.
It is past eight o’clock that same evening when Hearn arrives in the chief’s apartments to offer his account of the recent events.
Norton is already clad in his nightshirt and bed socks and has a mustard plaster wrapped about his head to fight off the bilious headache that assails him nearly every evening now.
When Hearn, after apologizing for troubling him at this hour, explains that there has been an unfortunate accident and that one of the Indian trading party has suffered an injury that may sadly prove fatal, Norton assumes at first, before Hearn can correct him, that the injury was caused by a fight between the two visitors, and he reminds Hearn that squabbles among the Northern Indians, especially when drink has been taken, are hardly unknown.
“This case is somewhat different,” Hearn says.
“Different how?”
Hearn explains about the altercation outside the walls and how Haycock felt obliged to intervene.
“He didn’t mean to cause such serious injuries, or at least he claims he didn’t, but he’s a burly fellow, as you know. Perhaps he swung the club a little recklessly.”
“Haycock did it?” Norton sits upright in his chair. “And you say this Indian is dead now?”
“He’s not dead yet, not quite, but Mr. Hutchins believes it’s only a matter of time.”
Norton frowns and looks perturbed.
“This is a poor business altogether,” he snaps.
“It won’t do at all. You and Haycock have gone too far, overstepped the mark.
To shoo them away is one thing, but killing them is most careless.
” He shakes his head again. “A rash act like that can cause all manner of trouble. Don’t you see that?
If the word starts spreading abroad that visitors who come to the Fort are in danger of being killed, then they’ll stay in the woods and do their business with the pedlars instead of us. This could set us back a good deal.”
“I understand, of course,” Hearn says, “and I regret what’s happened. I was trying to keep good order by driving them away, and I thought the sight of Haycock might scare them a little, but I never expected that we’d come to blows.”
Norton waves his right hand impatiently and flares his lower lip.
“You should have sought me out first before taking any action. I’d have told you to tread more lightly, but instead you’ve blundered in and caused what might prove no end of trouble.
I thought you’d have more sense. Let’s just hope the fellow who’s left alive is not too distraught to listen to reason.
I must talk to him right away and persuade him, despite what’s just happened, that our welcome is still as warm as ever and Haycock acted out of character or in some fit of passion. ”
Although Hearn expected Norton to be angry, the idea that the governor would wish to speak to Oule-Eye directly has never until now entered his mind. He is briefly dumbstruck by the notion, and Norton, seeing the look of sudden bafflement on his deputy’s face, immediately wonders at the cause.
“Is something wrong?” he says. “Is there more to this nonsense than meets the eye?”
“There’s nothing wrong,” Hearn says after quickly regathering his thoughts.
“Nothing at all. It’s just that the second Indian isn’t in any condition to speak to you now, I’m afraid.
Aside from the cracked pate, he still has a belly full of brandy, so you’d only be wasting your words.
If you leave this to me, then in the morning, before I send him away again, I’ll give him more gifts and make sure he understands it was all a simple accident and there’s no reason to take umbrage or start spreading rumors. ”
Norton shakes his head.
“That won’t work. He’ll blame you for what happened, and even if he promises not to bear a grudge, he won’t mean it.
I’ve been haggling with the natives for fifty years, so I know how they think.
You do exactly as I say. Bring him along to the trading room first thing tomorrow morning and I’ll speak to him there myself alone, man-to-man, so he understands that not everyone in this Fort is a fool or a scoundrel. ”
“I hate to think of you going to so much trouble,” Hearn answers. “I know I made a mistake. I should never have encouraged Haycock as I did, but I can repair the fault myself if you only let me. I’m sure I can.”
Norton tilts his bandaged head to one side, tugs a fleshy earlobe, and gives Hearn a sour, skeptical look.
“Are you trying to keep something from me, Hearn? Does this Indian fellow know something he shouldn’t?”
“Not at all. I’ve told you everything. It happened just as I described it.”
“Then you must do as I say without any more quibbling. You bring him to me in the morning as soon as he’s fit to talk so I can tidy up this mess. Is that understood?”
Hearn, seeing that Norton will not be dissuaded and that his attempts to escape from this dilemma are only making things worse, quickly resolves to accept defeat for now at least and seek out some other means to prevent the interview.
“I understand,” he says, “and I’ll do just as you wish me to, of course.”
Norton’s creviced face softens at this concession and the angry redness fades from his liver-spotted cheeks.
“Very good, then,” he says. “And afterward, make sure you learn from this and don’t repeat the same mistake. I raised you up to deputy because I saw something in you that I recognized and admired. Don’t cause me to doubt my own judgment.”
When Hearn returns to the messroom, Mackachy is laid out on the trestle table, unconscious but still alive, and Oule-Eye, his head encased in bandages, is sitting motionless on the floor, slumped forward with his eyes closed and mouth wide open.
Hearn remains standing by Mackachy’s side for a short while, watching his face and listening to his wet, guttural breathing, like the slow cawing of an old bird, and then he turns away and tells Hutchins, who is seated in a chair by the fire, that Magnus Norton has instructed him to keep the deathwatch all alone since he is the one responsible for this business and no one else.
“He says you shouldn’t be troubled by it and should get your rest instead.”
Hutchins raises one eyebrow, then stands up and twists his head sideways to remove the crick from his neck.
“I suppose Norton’s angry,” he says.
“Displeased. He thinks the situation is unfortunate.”
Hutchins snorts.
“Was that the word he used?”
“That word and some others a little stronger.”
Before he leaves the messroom, Hutchins hands Hearn a blanket for his legs and a bottle of opium with instructions to administer two drops, no more, on the tongue whenever Mackachy stirs, and to call him down again if either patient has a fit or stops breathing.
Hearn bids the surgeon good night, then listens to the sound of his footsteps ascending the stairs slowly one by one until he reaches the landing, then the brief grind of the iron hinges as he opens and closes the door of his room.
Afterward, in the dim silence as the fire shifts and flickers in the grate, Hearn thinks about England and the future and wonders if he has the courage now to do what must be done to make that future real.
Fate has offered me this opportunity, he thinks, but I must still prove myself deserving of it.
I must act and by that action cast away the sorrows of the past and make myself anew, or else accept that my lowly station is forever fixed, and my life is something fashioned not by me but by the power and prejudice of other men.
I must be brave this once, he thinks, trust in myself, and not allow the fear and doubt that I have so often, in my weakness, mistook for wisdom rob me of a vaunted prize.
He waits a while longer, still staring at the fire, until his mind is settled, then, standing, takes a tin cup from the mantelpiece, drains the bottle of opium into it, and tops it up with water from a gallon jug.
He steps across to the corner of the room where Oule-Eye is sleeping, shakes him awake, and explains in a low voice that he has medicine to help take away his pain.
The Indian blinks and groans and then, once he understands, complains that he doesn’t need any more medicine, but Hearn insists.
“Drink this down quickly,” he says, putting the rusty chalice to Oule-Eye’s lips with a trembling hand, while taking care as he does so not to look into the other man’s eyes for fear of what he might see within. “Drink it all down now and after you will feel much better, I promise.”