CHAPTER XIX.  AFTER MANY DAYS.
1827.
It must not be inferred that the wheels of incident in connection with the lives of George Morrison and Chrissy had ceased to move during the twenty-one years of separation. Strange things were happening on the lonely shores of the settlement in the wilderness, where the once bright and joyous Chrissy was pining away her life. Still stranger things were happening to her absent lover.
At first, evil tidings from the Great Lone Land seemed like a dream from which there would be a glad awakening. But as days went by, and still the spell of silence brooded over her heart and life, and as days ripened into weeks—weeks into months—months into years—clouds of disappointment overshadowed her life, and Chrissy began to grow old and careworn. Loved ones watched her with wistful eyes. Why such a true, lovely woman had been destined to live on and on in a dire eclipse was a problem beyond the comprehension of all.
It was a hot, sultry morning in August Chrissy and her father were standing on the south shore of the river with Colonel By, who was superintending a large staff of workmen engaged in the construction of the Rideau Canal. On the eastern point was a pretty villa built of boulders, and surrounded with a low, wide veranda, and which, when completed, was designed to be the residence of the gallant Colonel. Surrounding it were the tents of the officers of two companies of Sappers and Miners, whose smart uniforms added to the picturesqueness of the scene. On the adjacent cliff three stone barracks were being built.
"It is a magnificent site—a magnificent site!" said the Colonel, then dreamily added: "It would not surprise me to see a fortress like the Castle St. Louis on that bluff some day."
A busy scene presented itself between the two cliffs, where scores of men with picks, shovels, hand-drills, wheel-barrows, and stone drays, were busily excavating. Stone-masons, with their mallets and chisels, were compelled to stop every few minutes to wipe the perspiration from their brows with their shirt-sleeves. Irish and Scotch they were mostly, their coarse homespun shirts contrasting with the neat undress uniform of the officers who were supervising the building of the barracks and assisting in the works.
Two men, with muskets, from one of the back settlements then accosted the Chief in an excited state of mind, and asked if it were another American invasion that they were preparing for.
"We heard the sound of your cannon," they said, "miles away, and we followed in the direction from whence the sound came, and when we saw the soldiers and the men engaged on the defences we were convinced that we had good grounds for our fears."
The Colonel enjoyed the joke immensely, as did the workmen, who had a hearty laugh at the expense of the backwoodsmen.
Mr. MacKay, the contractor, observing the embarrassment of the poor fellows, said:
"I trust that our men always will be as ready to take up arms in defence of their country if the need arises. They are brave, loyal fellows."
Just then they observed a canoe approaching.
"It looks like one of the big canoes of the Hudson's Bay Company," said the Chief.
The canoe was manned by four Indians, with three white men comfortably seated in the bottom. On landing, a man of about forty, whose head and face looked as though they had not been disturbed by scissors or razor for several months, approached the party. Though poorly clad, his voice and manner and general bearing denoted him a gentleman and an Englishman.
"We saw the storm approaching," he said, "and thought we would take shelter here, and see what is going on. May I ask," he continued, turning to Colonel By, "whom I have the pleasure of addressing?"
"I am Colonel By, of the Royal Engineers," replied the officer.
"And what are you excavating for?" he asked.
"A military canal of about one hundred and twenty miles in length," replied the Colonel, "which will give us a safer route to the West than the St. Lawrence route. You have the advantage of us," he added. "What is your name, sir?"
"My name," he said, "is Franklin—John Franklin—and these are my friends, Richardson and Morrison. Richardson and I have travelled about five thousand miles. We have been exploring the northern coast of the continent. We travelled over land from Davis Strait westward until we came to the Mackenzie River, where we found our friend, here," he said, pointing to a poor cripple who was being lifted from the canoe by the Indians.
Since the mention of the name of Morrison Chrissy had stood transfixed. Could it be that the tall, powerful, manly figure that she remembered so well could have become so distorted as to be bent almost double? Could it be possible that the cripple before her was George—her long-lost George?
A smile of recognition crossed Morrison's face as he caught sight of Chrissy. She uttered a scream of delight—"O George! George! Is it you? is it you?"
For a time the two were too overcome to be able to utter a word. The expression of peace and joy and hope which Chrissy possessed even as a girl in the old convent days was more noticeable now, not only in her face but in her whole manner.
It was the same sweet, modest face, the same earnest love-lit eyes which had so long reigned in George's heart, kindling within him the resignation and hope which had sustained him through years of suffering, that greeted him as he stood on the beach.
What did it matter to them that the curious gaze of scores of onlookers was centred upon them? Totally oblivious to all but themselves, he grasped her hand, but was too overcome with emotion to be able to utter a word.
"This is an unexpected pleasure," said the Colonel, at length, shaking hands with them warmly. "Come, let us seek shelter in my tent, and you must all dine with me to-night."
"Could anything have been more pathetic," said Captain Franklin to the Chief, as they ascended the cliffs, "than your daughter's eager welcome of her lover?" Not only he, but others who saw the meeting, shared the unalloyed bliss of the two who were just on the threshold of their new life of love and companionship.
Hardly had they reached the Colonel's tent when the threatening storm-cloud burst with all its fury, carrying away several of the tents and threatening to sweep everything before it. Though terrific while it lasted, the clouds soon dispersed, and the setting sun shone out for an hour or so, illuminating the sky.
Dinner over, the Colonel said: "Let me show you one of the most picturesque scenes in Canada."
They followed their host to the veranda of his new house, and while Captain Franklin was admiring the beauties of nature, the Colonel recounted the difficulties they had to contend with in erecting the bridge over the Ottawa, which at the time was obscured by the rising mist.
"We commenced the work last fall," he said, "but I was obliged to spend most of the winter in Montreal, and after they had constructed the first arch from the opposite shore the whole thing collapsed. In order to obtain communication with the opposite bank at the foot of the falls we got Captain Asterbrooks to take a cannon to the rocks near where the end of the bridge would naturally be, so as to fire off a rope across the channel, a distance of two hundred and forty feet, to the island.
"For the first trial a half-inch rope was used, but the force of the powder cut it. The experiment was repeated, but with the same result. An inch rope was then tried, and it was thrown on to the island about one hundred feet.
"Having secured the rope at both ends, the workmen were enabled to haul over larger ones. A trestle ten feet high was then erected on each side of the channel, and two ropes stretched across the tops of the trestles and fastened at each end to the rocks. These were allowed to be slack, in order to give greater strength. The next step was to have a foot passage to allow workmen to communicate with each other, and with this object the ropes were placed four feet apart and planked over, and a rope hand-rail made on each side. Chains were then placed across over trestles in a similar manner, and planked on top, until the planking from each shore reached within ten feet of joining in the middle, when the chain broke and precipitated the workmen and their tools into the channel. Three of our best men were drowned. The others swam ashore.
"Though it is extremely difficult and hazardous to build at such a point, I was determined to succeed, so I had a large scow built and anchored to a point of rock where the bridge was to be built. We made stronger trestles of heavier timber, and got two eight-inch cables, which we laid across the channel over the trestles, which we secured to the rocks at each end. Then we built a wooden bridge, and with screw-jacks placed on the scow below it was kept up to its proper level. The work is almost completed," he said, "and I am determined that it shall stand, even if I have to build it of silver dollars."
"Can you see the bridge, Colonel?" asked the Chief. "The mist comes and goes. Sometimes it seems as though it were not there."
"Your vision is probably growing defective," replied the Colonel.
It was evident to more than the Chief that the structure had been loosened from its moorings by the gale, and could be seen moving majestically down stream; but, knowing the Colonel's temper, they determined to say nothing more on the subject.
The account of the construction of the first bridges over the Ottawa had little of interest for either George or Chrissy, who sat a little apart from the others, absorbed in conversation.
"On reaching the Fort after our interrupted meeting," said George, "I was ordered off to the North to open a new trading-post. Our crew consisted of one French-Canadian, four Indians, and myself. We left Fort Chippewyan in July, our canoe loaded with pemmican, an assortment of useful and ornamental articles to be given as gifts to the Indians, to ensure us a friendly reception among them, and the ammunition and arms necessary for defence, as well as a supply for our Indians, upon whom we depended for our chief supply of provisions, as it was impossible to carry all that would be required before our return.
"Our course, which led from the Ungigah (Peace) to the Slave River, from thence to the Dog River, and from that to Slave Lake, was uneventful. The weather was extremely cold, and we were much hindered by ice. It was after we left the lake that our trouble really commenced. Our guide, who professed to know the route, mistook a small lake for the river, and led us into the midst of a tribe of the most hostile natives, known as the Red Knife Indians.
"My men spoke to these people in the Chippewyan language, and the information they gave respecting the river for which we were searching had so much of the fabulous that I shall not attempt to recall it. They said it would require several winters to reach it; that there was a great Manitou in the midst of it which consumed everything that attempted to pass, and that there were other monsters of horrid shapes and such destructive powers that all travel on i............