The Wanigan (6 page)

With the logs safely in the river, the men got ready to move downstream.

“We ought to go back and tell our papas,” I whispered.

Jimmy shook his head. “By the time we get back, they'll be on their way, stealing our logs farther downstream.”

“We've got to stop them,” I said. I was furious. It wasn't right that they should steal our logs and then get away.

“I got an idea.” Jimmy looked at me. “You game?”

“Sure.” Inside I wasn't so sure.

“I'm going to make them chase me. When they take off after me, you go and get their marking hammer. After you've gone a distance, throw the hammer someplace where they can't find it but remember where it is. Don't wait for me. Just run back to the wanigan and tell the others.”

Before I could say a word, Jimmy stood up and began running and shouting at the same time.

The men dropped what they were doing and stared up at Jimmy. He was making so much noise crashing through the underbrush and throwing stones down at them it sounded like more than one boy. The men began climbing up the bank. I crouched down, but they were after Jimmy and never noticed me.

The minute they were out of sight, I took a deep breath and began slipping and sliding down the sandy bank, skinning my knees and bottom. I was tumbling so fast I thought I would go right into the river, but at the last minute I caught on to a pine seedling growing from the bank and broke my fall. For a moment I was too scared to move, but I thought of Jimmy being chased by those evil men and I kept going.

The marking hammer was just where they left it. Hanging on to the heavy hammer with both hands, I started back along the river toward the wanigan. My arms felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets. I didn't know how long I could carry the hammer, but I wanted to get far enough away so they couldn't guess where I had thrown it.

The banks rose almost straight up from the river, so I had only a few inches of shore to stumble along. Part of the time I was in the river, climbing over old logs and slippery boulders. All the while I was worrying about Jimmy and what the men might do if they caught him.

A small creek joined the river. There were no logs in the creek. I held tightly on to the marking hammer and swung it back and forth and then let it go. It landed in the middle of the creek with a big splash. I was sure they would never find it, but I would know where it was because there was a lone pine to mark the spot.

I scrambled back up the bank and headed for the wanigan. Though I was running as fast as I could, it seemed farther than I remembered. As I rounded each bend, I thought I would see our shack. I couldn't catch my breath. For a terrible minute I wondered if I was running in the wrong direction, but I was sure the river had been on my right.

Suddenly, below me, there was the wanigan. I shouted, “Timber pirates! They're after Jimmy! Quick!”

Papa and Big Tom and Frenchy were just below me in the river, prizing out a log. Papa climbed the bank, Frenchy right behind him. Farther down Penti Ranta and Teddy McGuire had heard me and were running toward us.

I blurted out my story and in seconds they were on their way. Papa called over his shoulder that I was to go down to the wanigan. I turned slowly in that direction, but as soon as I had caught my breath I hurried after the men.

I could hear them thrashing through the woods shouting Jimmy's name. More shouts. Jimmy's voice. Then the angry voices of the pirates. There in front of me were all of our men and—running toward them—Jimmy. Chasing Jimmy were the two timber pirates. He had managed to lead them back toward the wanigan. The minute the pirates saw how many men were after them, they spun around and began to run in the other direction. Big Tom chased them, but he was soon back. He was laughing. “They won't show their faces around here again.”

Jimmy and I told our stories. On the way back I pointed to where I had thrown the marking hammer. Penti Ranta waded into the creek, held his nose, and disappeared under the water. He came up shaking off the water and sputtering. Back down he went. This time he came up with the marking hammer.

“Just the evidence we need,” Papa said. “This will help us claim any logs of ours they've marked.” He smiled at me and Jimmy. “I must say, you two make quite a team.”

I didn't look at Jimmy and he didn't look at me.

That night a storm blew up. From the window I could see jagged flashes of lightning. A moment later the thunder boomed out. There was too much commotion to let me sleep. Mama left the lantern on for me. I lay in bed going over and over what had happened that day. Though my pillow wasn't velvet, I thought of Mr. Poe's lines:

This and more I sat divining,

with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining

that the lamp-light gloated o'er…

At last the sky was quiet and there was no sound but a gentle dance of rain on the river. I made up a story in which I soared over the forests on the back of a great eagle, flying so high that just before I fell asleep, I caught a glimpse of the whole world all at once.

THE WAVES HAVE NOW A REDDER GLOW

Mr. Poe could surely have written a poem about what happened later that night. At first I thought the shouts that awakened me were a part of some fearful nightmare. Mama was shaking me gently and telling me I must get up. I felt as if I had gone to bed only moments before, but there was a reddish glow in the window that I thought must be the sunrise.

“Don't be frightened, Annabel, but hurry and put on your things. I'll be just outside.”

I got my petticoat on backward and didn't bother to lace up my boots. When I went out onto the deck, I saw that Papa had climbed over from the bunk shack. He was standing with Mama. Jimmy and the rest of the men were on the deck of the bunk shack. Their clothes were as mixed up as mine. Their suspenders were hanging, their feet bare, and their shirts unbuttoned. For the first time since I had known him, Frenchy was without his red sash.

The red glow lit up the northern bank. There was a scorching smell. For a moment I wondered if something was burning on the stove. The red glow moved toward us and above it was a black cloud. Smoke!

“Is it a forest fire?” I whispered.

Papa nodded. “It must have been set off by the lightning.”

I heard the roar of a train rushing along, but there was no train, only the fire's anger. “Will we get burned?”

“No, we're probably in no danger,” Papa said. “We have to hope the fire won't jump the river.” I saw him give a worried look at the thousands of logs floating ahead of the wanigan.

Using their pikes, Big Tom and Frenchy began walking the wanigan down the river, away from the fire, but the fire was moving quickly.

There was a tearing noise and a fireworks of sparks as the flames leapt from the crown of one pine to the next. The fire was catching up with us. Black ash sifted over the wanigan. The smoke was so bad I could hardly breathe. Papa climbed onto the wanigan's roof. Jimmy handed him pails of water and Papa sluiced the roof. Behind us Teddy McGuire was doing the same to the bunk shack. Pail after pail was lowered, filled, and emptied.

Sparks flew about. A bit of fiery branch landed on the deck. Mama grabbed at the brooms, dipped them into the water, and handed me one. She quickly swept the branch into the river. More branches landed on the wanigan and we swept those off, too.

“William,” Mama asked in a trembling voice, “ought we to get off and onto the other shore?”

“If the fire jumps the river, Augusta, we'd be safer right here in the water.”

I thought of the river crowded with wood and I wasn't so sure.

Big Tom said, “This is a good river. I've known it all my life. It's not going to give us any trouble.”

But the smoke got so thick we had to wrap wet handkerchiefs around our faces.

Jimmy laughed at me. “You look like a robber about to hold up a stagecoach.”

I tried to come up with something to say in return, but I couldn't think of anything but the fire. Mama was coughing, so she had to go inside. I saw that Papa wanted to go after her, but he had to keep sluicing the boat. I looked at Papa, wondering if I should go to Mama.

He shook his head. “Your mama will be all right. We need all the help we can get, Annabel.”

Lighted branches, like small torches, fell around us. Papa took care of the roof. I went after the branches that landed on the deck, sweeping them into the river. When the glowing torches fell into the river, you could hear the sizzle and see a little puff of smoke. The reflection of the fire on the water made me think of Mr. Poe's lines:

The waves have now a redder glow
—

The hours are breathing faint and low…

Three deer plunged into the river just ahead of us. They scrambled over the logs and clambered up the opposite shore. Jimmy and I looked at one another. I knew we were both thinking of Bandit and of all the birds and animals we had seen in the woods. We might be in danger but at least we were in the river and safe for now. But what would happen to the animals?

The men took turns at pushing the wanigan along. One hour went by and then another. Drops of rain began to fall. We all looked up at the sky, hoping and praying. Our prayers were answered. Sheets of rain came down, soaking the woods and the wanigan and soaking us. We didn't care. We just stood there cheering the rain.

The fire died out. There were no more flames now, only burnt trees like black skeletons and wisps of white smoke rising up from the damp earth like a crowd of ghosts.

We got no sleep that night. Mama had recovered and had tea and molasses cookies for everyone. Penti Ranta laughed and said, “If I had jumped into the river back there for my morning bath, the water would have been nice and warm.”

“In Canada,” Frenchy said, “we had us one
grand feu.
Dat
feu
, it lasted two days. Nothing left for miles. Next year, all green again. Wid de trees all burned up we got us good farmland. De
feu
, it did de farmers' work.”

“The lumber company that owned that land surely won't thank that fire,” Mama said.

“Those trees weren't hurt by the fire,” Big Tom said. “Just a little scorched on the outside.”

I couldn't help thinking of the frightened deer escaping the fire and wondering if Bandit was safe. I guess I was pretty tired because I went inside the wanigan, where no one could see me, and cried. Not even Mr. Poe, who was always miserable about something, had a poem that was as sad as I was.

THE WEARY, WAY-WORN WANDERER

It was a week after the fire when I awoke and looked out the window to see my first gull. It swooped over the wanigan and lighted onto the water. A moment later it was far overhead, no more than a white thread against blue sky.

At breakfast Papa told me, “The gull means we're nearing the end of our journey, Annabel. Oscoda and Lake Huron are only a few days' float from here.”

Mama breathed a sigh of relief. I cheered right up as well. I thought the gull was like the dove in the Bible that brought back the olive leaf to Noah because the waters had subsided from off the earth. I told myself nothing would make me happier than to live in a house perched on land. For a second I wondered if I would miss the wanigan, but the thought disappeared with the happy prospect of dry land and real houses.

Soon we saw the houses, houses and barns, and people standing along the banks of the river, staring at us and waving. I waved back.

Big Tom said, “They can hear the logs coming down the river a long time before we get here.”

As we neared the mouth of the river, the men could talk of nothing but the prospect of an end to their hard, wet work. In Oscoda our logs would be chained together into great platforms called booms. The booms would be tugged to the sawmill or loaded onto boats bound for Detroit. Finally, after all these months, the men would be paid for their work.

They talked of how pleased they would be to come to the end of their labors and to receive their wages. Still, all the men seemed quieter than usual, as if they were sorry the season was ending.

Papa said, “I'll tell you, fellows, I'm through with lumbering.” He gave Mama a fond look. “This year has been hard on Augusta. We'll take our wages and head down to Detroit. I've got a friend who'll put me to work on one of the barges on the Detroit River. We'll find ourselves a little house with a garden for Augusta and a proper school nearby for Annabel.”

I looked at Mama and Mama looked at me. It was like the sky had opened up and you could see right up to heaven. I tried to imagine what it would be like to live in a house that never moved and to go to a proper school instead of running around the woods with Jimmy. I told myself that I would be with well-bred people with agreeable manners. Our guests would not come to dinner in their undershirts or spit tobacco juice. Instead the men would wear starched white shirts and the women pretty dresses, and the conversation would be held in polite voices. But there might be no fiddle and no songs and no dancing either.

Penti Ranta, Big Tom, and Frenchy announced that they would head back to a lumber camp in the fall.

Big Tom said he knew just where the next camp would be. “There's a stand of pine trees reaching a hundred and fifty feet straight up in the air. You can tell when they're ready for cutting. It's the way the branches whisper to one another. It's a sound you never forget.” He sighed. “Still, I hate to think of cutting them down. Soon there won't be a tree left along the Au Sable.”

I thought of how Big Tom had once told me, “The river sure looks a different river now.”

“After we get us a little fun in de city,” Frenchy said, “our moneys dey all gone.”

“Not that we don't mean to save our money,” Penti Ranta said, “but every year it disappears and this year is sure to be no different. “ He sighed, but he didn't seem too unhappy.