Settlement by Ann Birch

Author:Ann Birch
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC014000
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2010-08-17T04:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

Colonel Fitzgibbon had led the Indians to victory against the Americans at Beaver Dams in August of 1813. He had often told Sam that without his Caughnawaga warriors, the battle would have been lost. Sam was glad to have the Colonel along for this first major official engagement. Not only did he welcome his friend’s knowledge of the Niagara Indians, he was relieved just to have someone to talk to on the long steamer trip to Niagara.

Of course, now he had Anna as well. Sam made a mental note to call her Mrs. Jameson in front of the Colonel. She was standing at the stern of the steamer, waving goodbye to her housekeeper. She had indeed brought her Spanish guitar and a very small portmanteau, so it would all be manageable—at least, the luggage part of it. As for the rest of what might unfold in the next two days, well, he’d have to see.

“Your knowledge of the Indian bands will be an asset, Colonel,” he said as Fitzgibbon poured whiskey from the silver flask he always had with him. “Mohawk, Chippewa, Mississauga, Caughnawaga, it sounds almost like the first line of a children’s rhyme, doesn’t it? I know something of the Chippewa people. Jacob Snake has told me about them and introduced me to his relations, but I have to sort the rest of them.”

“Especially now you Big Indian Chief.” They both laughed.

Anna joined them. “How long will it take to get there?”

“Four hours, I expect,” the Colonel said.

“Then I can surely provide some fun en route. Apparently there is an Irish American troupe on board who are making the circuit around the Great Lakes.”

“They have just come from the Theatre Royal,” Sam said. “They did some comic songs and dances there this week. I heard a good deal about it, and I wanted so much to go, but...there just didn’t seem enough time to take it in.” He remembered Mary’s comment that there would be too many of the serving classes there, and he had caved in to her disapproval.

The next minute, it seemed, Anna had found a bench near the pilot’s cabin, taken out her guitar and begun twanging away with some Spanish music. The theatre troupe improvised a flamenco, and the deck cleared so that people could stand at the sides and watch. It was a comical performance—Irish step-dancing overlaid with Spanish hand-clapping and twirls, and Sam did a few feints with his scarf, hoping he didn’t look too ridiculous.

“Your toreador skills are sadly wasted in this part of the world,” Anna said as the audience clapped in appreciation of the impromptu performance.

“Not really. I intend to try them on the next bull moose I meet.”

“I have not had a chance to ask you about Job Crimshaw. But I’m sure by now you have things well in hand.”

“It’s not that simple. You, coming from Europe, cannot understand how dependent all of us are on Crimshaw’s merchandise. If I upset the man, where am I to get what I need? I intend to do something, but not now.

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