Washika (33 page)

The superintendent glanced back at Alphonse with a quick smile. Alphonse did not return the smile.

“This morning,” Simard-Comtois continued. “You will be leaving for Cabonga Dam, for at least one week, maybe two. They will be opening the gap today or tomorrow and they will need all the help they can get. It's a nice place, Cabonga. I am sure that you will like it there.”

The superintendent lit a cigarette and turned his back on the students. As he was returning the pack to his shirt pocket, he stopped suddenly and turned to face the group.

“And don't forget, boys,” he said. “Take everything you own with you. The bunkhouses have to be emptied of everything that belongs to you. And, oh yes, bring your mattresses along. There are none at Cabonga.”

Simard-Comtois offered Alphonse a cigarette and the two men walked back together, to where the superintendent's cabin stood on the knoll overlooking the bay. The man had his hand on Alphonse's shoulder and he spoke excitedly, waving his free arm in the air.

I
t was a perfect, sun-shiny day as the
Madeleine
backed away from the wharf and out towards the open waters of Washika Bay. It had taken over an hour to get the students organized and packed, and another hour to carry all of their gear down to the dock and load it onto the
Madeleine
. The last to go were the long, narrow black and white striped mattresses. The students carried them balanced on their heads, as they walked unsteadily down the sandy slope to the water's edge.

At nine-thirty, the last of the mattresses was piled on top of other mattresses, and packsacks, and green army duffle bags. The deck, both forward and aft, was littered with the students' belongings. As the
Madeleine
moved away from Washika in a southeasterly direction, the students sorted out their gear and arranged things so as to be as comfortable as they could be. Astern, in the last of the two drive boats in tow, François Gauthier lay back on his mattress wedged between the gunwales. Propped up by a large canvas pack, he read attentively as the breeze from the bay rattled the pages of his book. Today, it was,
The Elements of Physics
by Shortley and Williams. Gauthier had many interests. In the green canvas bag at his feet were other books:
Biologie
by Claude Villee, a translated biography of
The Life of Jack London
, a very thick book entitled,
Les Poissons d'eau douce du Québec
and, finally, an old and extremely worn copy of Constance Garnett's translation of the short novels of Fyodor Dostoevsky. François Gauthier spent much of his time alone.

Henri lay against the front of the cabin, stretched out on his mattress. He watched the shoreline spreading outward as the
Madeleine
made her way due south to Cabonga Dam. He had not written to Sylvie. After supper, the previous evening, he had fallen asleep on his bunk and, when he awoke, there had been only time to prepare for bed before the lights went out. And now this. Henri felt a bit apprehensive about this migration to Cabonga Dam. Alphonse had often discussed future work plans with him, mostly during the trips back to Washika after the day's work. He would talk about how the sweep was going and about how much work was expected of them, what shores had to be picked clean more so than others. He had mentioned the dam and how the gap would be open soon, and how some of the men at Cabonga Dam had been working there since the construction of the dam in the late twenties. Alphonse told him that he and Télesphore Aumont of the
Hirondelle
and perhaps Gérard Lapointe of the
Sophie
might have to spend more time there once the gap was opened up. There were jams, Alphonse had told him, sometimes so bad that they had to use dynamite to untangle the logs. But Alphonse had never mentioned that the sweep crew might be going to Cabonga. They had all the men they needed there, Alphonse had said, good old boys who knew their job and did it well. They had been there so long it was difficult to send in replacements, fresh young men willing to learn the job. The old ones did not take kindly to the arrival of younger men, to being reminded that soon they would be replaced. What would they do then? Being sent help from Washika was never graciously accepted. They enjoyed a quiet, peaceful life at Cabonga and that was the way they intended to keep it. The arrival of the tugboats from Washika was tolerated as a necessary intrusion when the gap was opened, but only for that time. And besides, the tugboat captains and the men at Cabonga were old friends.

Henri smiled to himself as he looked at the stack of mattresses and packsacks and sleeping log drivers piled haphazardly about the deck. Just imagine, he thought, how the poor old boys at Cabonga will react when they get sight of this. It did not make sense to Henri. And he tried to understand, going over all that Alphonse had told him; Cabonga Dam on the Cabonga Reservoir where they had worked all that summer, the gap being opened in the dam, and the logs being driven through the gap and down the Gens-de-Terre river, and the men who had drowned there on previous log drives and where you could still find crosses erected along its banks. He closed his eyes, thinking, and he could feel the sun heating his eyelids and his face was warm and his head fell back heavily and, soon, Henri was snoring loudly like Lavigne who lay next to him, and St-Jean at his feet.

W
hen Henri opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that the
Madeleine
's engine was not running. But, there was another engine running close by.

“Lunch!” Alphonse called from the cabin. Almost immediately, the other engine shut down. It was the
Hirondelle
, a tugboat almost identical to the
Madeleine
.

Henri squinted against the noonday sun and his mouth was dry from sleep. He stretched and then he did up his bootlaces. After, he began the search for his lunch pail like everyone else. He suddenly remembered that he had left his lunch pail in the cabin so that it would be out of the sun. Alphonse stood in the doorway with a sandwich in one hand and, in the other, a cup of steaming hot tea.

“Excuse me, Alphonse,” Henri said as he slid by the man. “I just want to get my lunch.”

“You can eat here, Henri. You might be better in the shade.”

Henri remembered a similar warning, several weeks past, and the fish-scale V formation on his chest, and the purple jar, and Lise Archambault sliding the wooden tongue depressor with its yellow glob of salve slowly, and delicately, down his chest.

“Yes, all right,” Henri said. He moved the wooden box away from the doorway and sat down. It was cool in the cabin and a light breeze whistled through a crack in the starboard window.

Alphonse leaned back into the cabin and picked out another sandwich from his lunch pail. From where he sat on the wooden box, Henri could see Télesphore Aumont standing in the doorway of the
Hirondelle
. The two tugboats had been made fast with their gunwales touching.

“Well, you know how they are,” Alphonse spoke as he poured tea from his thermos bottle. “You've been here as long as me, Téles. You must know by now how they think.”

“Ah yes, that's true.” the man said. “You're certainly right about that.”

Henri looked beyond the space between Alphonse and the cabin doorway. He could see Télesphore framed in the red trim of the
Hirondelle
's cabin doorway. He was wearing his black sunglasses as he always did whenever he went outside, and a white hard hat. He had never achieved the rank of foreman and he had no one working under him, but no one ever mentioned the hat. There was nothing unusual about Télesphore, except his ears. They were large, elephantine ears. In the bunkhouse-and-office, the boys had made a joke about them. In the morning, when Télesphore coughed his way to the bathroom, the boys no longer waited to see his eyes come popping out of his head since, as the joke went, he was not really going to the bathroom at all. In fact, Télesphore Aumont was taxiing up the runway, testing the air and revving his engine and preparing to take off with his large flaps angled just perfect for a perfect takeoff.

“Now take this gang here,” Alphonse continued, chewing as he spoke and washing the sandwich down with hot tea. “You think they need them at the gap? Armand has been doing the job, almost alone, for more than thirty years.”

“Yes, you're right there,” Télesphore burped loudly. He threw a corner of the thick sandwich into the water. “So you think it's the gang below?”

“No doubt at all,” Alphonse said. “Besides, and keep this for yourself, Simard-Comtois told me so himself just this morning.” Alphonse looked over his shoulder at Henri. “This is between us, okay Henri?”

“Yes, of course,” Henri replied.

“According to him,” Alphonse continued, “they made a bit of a gaffe in Ste-Émilie, at the head office. We don't know who, but that doesn't matter. It seems that there was supposed to be only six fellows on the sweep this year. But, you know how it is, the son of one, and the friend of the son of another. So now, there are twenty students on the sweep plus one working as a cookee. But, at the head office in Ste-Émilie, there are still only six.”

“
Et bien
,” Télesphore sighed, as he pulled at one of his large, flat ears. “That complicates things, eh? It's a wonder they haven't discovered this already down below.”

“It's not as bad as all that. It seems that the clerk here can fix it so nothing shows in Ste-Émilie. Simard-Comtois told me. But, the worst is that some big shot is coming to Washika this week. Some kind of
directeur
, very high placed in the Company. Imagine, just for a minute, what he would think when he sees my gang here. And there's supposed to be only six of them.”

“
Et bien
,” Télesphore pulled at his ear again. “So that's why were going to Cabonga.”

“Not you, Téles,” Alphonse brought a toothpick out from his shirt pocket and placed it in a corner of his mouth. “They might need the
Hirondelle
for a while. Maybe even the
Madeleine
. We've got to keep the booms and all of those logs moving. It's my gang they're shipping down to Cabonga, to hide. No one knows for how long?”

“So what will your gang do at Cabonga?”

“They'll help Armand at the gap. Maybe they'll do a little sweep above the dam. Armand has an Acadia. Those are good little boats for that kind of work.”

Télesphore rubbed the stubble on his cheek and on the end of his chin. “And there's a Russel there as well,” he said. “Bernatchez is handling her. Poor Armand, he'll find it hard with your gang. He's so used to the quiet.”

“Yes, I think so too.” Alphonse began to roll a cigarette. He sat down on the doorsill and leaned his back against the frame.

“
Et bien
, what can we do, eh?” Télesphore stretched his bulging waistline, rubbing the palm of his hand affectionately across his rounded belly. He reached behind the cabin door and brought out a casting rod. “Well I guess I'll try to scare up a few,” he said. Télesphore went forward then, to stand on deck next to the anchor, and cast out into deeper water.

I
t was cool in the cabin, and very quiet. Henri sat on the low wooden box near the open doorway. He could hear the water slapping the hulls of the two tugboats. Behind and beyond the
Madeleine
, he could hear the barking of the gulls as the boys tossed cheese and bread crust out onto the water. Occasionally, someone moved about on deck, striking metal with lunch pail or hard hat, or dropping a pike pole across the seats of a drive boat. But, mostly, it was very quiet and Henri listened to the breeze as it entered the cabin. It was a special time of day for Henri. It was a moment of quiet contemplation, not unlike the time he had spent in church, at the Église de St-Germain, the year that he had gone to mass every morning during Lent. He had arrived thirty minutes early one morning and the experience of solitude, of silent meditation, had touched him deeply. Thereafter Henri had arrived early every morning, to sit alone, unmoving in the wooden pew, to stare at the statues and think about everything in his life and the things he understood and those he did not. He would drop to his knees and look up at the statues and concentrate very hard and will the carved heads to move and their lips to part in smile.

“Alphonse,” Henri almost regretted breaking the silence. “Don't you find it kind of special, this time of day, so quiet and peaceful.”

“
Et oui
, Henri.” Alphonse replied. “A time to think of old sins. And maybe some new ones, eh Henri?”

“But I like this time of day, you know. Here on the water like this.”

“Yes, probably. I've been here a long time, Henri.”

A strong breeze blew in through the open doorway, scattering the smoke as it rose from Alphonse's cigarette. Henri listened to the quiet, the water slapping against the hulls, the barking of the gulls. Suddenly, there were voices, and hurried footsteps on deck.

“Alphonse,” Lavigne stood in the doorway. “Could we take one of the drive boats? The guys spotted a bark canoe on shore.”

“Yes, yes,” Alphonse stood up from the high stool at the wheel. “Go ahead, Gaston. But, make sure they put on their life jackets. You never know who might show up here.”

“Yes. Of course, I'll tell them,” Lavigne said as he stepped back from the doorway.

Henri could still hear his footsteps on deck as he yelled to the others that it was okay to take the drive boats.

“Have you ever seen that canoe, Alphonse?”

“Oh yes. You've gone by there often. I'm surprised you haven't seen it.

“How's that?”

“Look outside, Henri. You don't know where we are? It's true, we worked a little further down. This is Lost Cabin Bay here, where we cleaned up just before going on the fire.”