Aug 17, 1430 Nass River
Magnus and Zacharias stood on the beach, watching the pale river flow by. The last time they had really eaten was 10AM.
“I’m really hungry,” said Magnus. They looked inside their food bag, as if something might have spontaneously appeared since the last time they looked. There was one can of beans, two cans of bully beef, half a dozen hard candies, and some powder that had been hard tack.
“We can’t eat that cold,” said Magnus, his voice full of despair.
“We can light a fire,” said Zacharias. The boys gathered some sticks and driftwood. Both boys had matches in their shirt pockets. When the fire burned down to coals, they sat the open bean can in the glowing embers and stirred every few minutes. They opened one bully beef can, cut the gelatinous pink meat into slabs, and sort of toasted them stabbed onto a green stick. They scooped some beans onto each slab of bully beef, and quickly devoured the lot.
“I told you I kinda like bully beef,” said Zacharias.
“Yeah, when I’m that hungry, it’s OK,” conceded Magnus. “I hope someone comes along soon. We’re pretty low on food. How far a walk is it to the next town?”
“I really don’t know this place,” said Zacharias, “but a long way. Most of the towns are on the other side of the river, and there are no bridges.”
“Could we walk till we get across the river from a town and wave until someone noticed us?”
“I guess.” Zacharias skipped a rock on the river, and watched the splashes flow downstream. The boys skipped rocks in silence for a while.
A canoe appeared on the river. The boys watched it for a moment, then jumped up and started leaping in the air and waving their arms yelling “Oh! Oh! Oh!”
The paddler in the back of the canoe turned in their direction, and moved across the river towards them, but was carried past by the current, and disappeared from sight behind the trees at the edge of the beach. Magnus and Zacharias stopped jumping and looked at each other, crestfallen.
“This might be harder than we thought,” said Zacharias.
Ten minutes later, the canoe appeared again, right beside the bank and headed upstream. The canoe nudged up on the beach, and the paddler held it in place with his paddle jammed down into the river bottom. In the back of the canoe sat a Nisga’a man, of middle age, shirtless.
In the front sat a plump Nisga’a woman, also of middle age. She wore many layers of patterned dresses. On her lap sat a baby , wrapped up so only its face was showing. Between them, filling most of the canoe, were stacks of shiny dark furs.
Magnus and Zacharias tried to tell the story of the German Navy, Anyox, the trip, and the bear, both at the same time double speed. The three in the canoe watched them impassively. When they realized they were being completely incoherent, they stopped, both at the same time.
“So,” said the paddler, in English, “are you gonna get in?”
There was a space between the stacks of pelts in the center of the canoe. Zacharias steadied the canoe while Magnus climbed in. Then Zacharias stepped in after. The boys settled themselves as low as they could in the bottom of the canoe, for stability. The canoe smelled strongly of fur. The man pushed the canoe off the beach with his paddle, backpaddled into the current, then turned the nose down river.
When the paddler had them back in the main stream of the river, and could spare attention, he looked Zacharias straight in the eyes for an uncomfortably long time. “Where are you from?” the man asked in Nisga’a.
“Anyox,” answered Zacharias in Sm’algyax̣
The man cocked his head to one side, as if to listen more closely. “No one is from Anyox,” said the man. “Where are you really from, seal eater?”
“I was born in Port Simpson, Lax Lw’allams,” said Zacharias defiantly.
The man snorted.
“Thank you for the ride,” said Zacharias.
The man nodded in return “You’re welcome.”
They dropped into silence. “What did he say?” whispered Magnus.
“Just saying hello. That kind of thing.” Zacharias whispered back.
The woman and the baby were staring at the two boys, with flat expressions. Magnus smiled at the baby. The baby’s expression did not change. After a while the boys looked away and instead took in the scenery. Tall forests were moving lazily by on both sides of the river. Now they were in the middle of the river, the boys could see the mountains they had come over, and they were impressive. But more impressive were the mountains to the south. These were row upon row of sharp snow capped peaks, with one in particular topped with bare grey stone like a castle, rising out of a glacier so white they had to blink.
When they looked away, the woman and the baby were still staring at them.
“Do you want some grease?” the woman asked, in English.
“You have to say yes!” whispered Zacharias in Magnus’s ear. “And you have to like it!”
“Um, yes please.” said Magnus.
The woman dug into her pack, and produced a cedar box, and some flat bread. She opened the box and scooped some thick golden liquid onto the bread. She passed it to Magnus.
Then she repeated the procedure for Zacharias.
Magnus said “Thank you,” and brought the bread to his lips. It smelled strong and fishy, like lutefisk. Magus took a small bite. At first he though it was bad. But he could tell his body liked it. He could feel energy flowing to his muscles. He slowly finished the bread and grease, and said “Thank you,” again.
“Yes, thank you,” said Zacharias, liking the last remnants from his lips.
The woman nodded, and her expression changed to one of satisfaction. The baby still stared at the boys.
“What was that?” Magnus asked Zacharias, in a whisper.
“Oolichan grease,” answed Zacharias. “These little fish that come in the spring. You catch them and let them rot and then boil them. And you get the grease. My people make it too, but different.”
“My people make something like that too,” said Magnus, “but it’s a thicker slime, and not as oily.”
Zacharias looked at Magnus. “Liar,” he said.
“No, it’s true!” protested Magnus.
“You are a hundred percent making that up,” accused Zacharias.
“It’s a Norwegian delicacy!” argued Magnus. “We have it every Christmas!”
The boys stopped short when they realized they were arguing out loud. The baby was staring at them. They stopped arguing and watched the scenery slowly scroll by for a couple of more hours.
“Aiyansh,” said the man. The first words he had said to them in three hours. “You can get out here.” The boys looked up. They had come around a bend, and there on the east bank of the river, stood a cluster of frame houses, a white church with a tall steeple, and the poles of the telegraph line.
Magnus and Zacharias stood on the beach, watching the pale river flow by. The last time they had really eaten was 10AM.
“I’m really hungry,” said Magnus. They looked inside their food bag, as if something might have spontaneously appeared since the last time they looked. There was one can of beans, two cans of bully beef, half a dozen hard candies, and some powder that had been hard tack.
“We can’t eat that cold,” said Magnus, his voice full of despair.
“We can light a fire,” said Zacharias. The boys gathered some sticks and driftwood. Both boys had matches in their shirt pockets. When the fire burned down to coals, they sat the open bean can in the glowing embers and stirred every few minutes. They opened one bully beef can, cut the gelatinous pink meat into slabs, and sort of toasted them stabbed onto a green stick. They scooped some beans onto each slab of bully beef, and quickly devoured the lot.
“I told you I kinda like bully beef,” said Zacharias.
“Yeah, when I’m that hungry, it’s OK,” conceded Magnus. “I hope someone comes along soon. We’re pretty low on food. How far a walk is it to the next town?”
“I really don’t know this place,” said Zacharias, “but a long way. Most of the towns are on the other side of the river, and there are no bridges.”
“Could we walk till we get across the river from a town and wave until someone noticed us?”
“I guess.” Zacharias skipped a rock on the river, and watched the splashes flow downstream. The boys skipped rocks in silence for a while.
A canoe appeared on the river. The boys watched it for a moment, then jumped up and started leaping in the air and waving their arms yelling “Oh! Oh! Oh!”
The paddler in the back of the canoe turned in their direction, and moved across the river towards them, but was carried past by the current, and disappeared from sight behind the trees at the edge of the beach. Magnus and Zacharias stopped jumping and looked at each other, crestfallen.
“This might be harder than we thought,” said Zacharias.
Ten minutes later, the canoe appeared again, right beside the bank and headed upstream. The canoe nudged up on the beach, and the paddler held it in place with his paddle jammed down into the river bottom. In the back of the canoe sat a Nisga’a man, of middle age, shirtless.
In the front sat a plump Nisga’a woman, also of middle age. She wore many layers of patterned dresses. On her lap sat a baby , wrapped up so only its face was showing. Between them, filling most of the canoe, were stacks of shiny dark furs.
Magnus and Zacharias tried to tell the story of the German Navy, Anyox, the trip, and the bear, both at the same time double speed. The three in the canoe watched them impassively. When they realized they were being completely incoherent, they stopped, both at the same time.
“So,” said the paddler, in English, “are you gonna get in?”
There was a space between the stacks of pelts in the center of the canoe. Zacharias steadied the canoe while Magnus climbed in. Then Zacharias stepped in after. The boys settled themselves as low as they could in the bottom of the canoe, for stability. The canoe smelled strongly of fur. The man pushed the canoe off the beach with his paddle, backpaddled into the current, then turned the nose down river.
When the paddler had them back in the main stream of the river, and could spare attention, he looked Zacharias straight in the eyes for an uncomfortably long time. “Where are you from?” the man asked in Nisga’a.
“Anyox,” answered Zacharias in Sm’algyax̣
The man cocked his head to one side, as if to listen more closely. “No one is from Anyox,” said the man. “Where are you really from, seal eater?”
“I was born in Port Simpson, Lax Lw’allams,” said Zacharias defiantly.
The man snorted.
“Thank you for the ride,” said Zacharias.
The man nodded in return “You’re welcome.”
They dropped into silence. “What did he say?” whispered Magnus.
“Just saying hello. That kind of thing.” Zacharias whispered back.
The woman and the baby were staring at the two boys, with flat expressions. Magnus smiled at the baby. The baby’s expression did not change. After a while the boys looked away and instead took in the scenery. Tall forests were moving lazily by on both sides of the river. Now they were in the middle of the river, the boys could see the mountains they had come over, and they were impressive. But more impressive were the mountains to the south. These were row upon row of sharp snow capped peaks, with one in particular topped with bare grey stone like a castle, rising out of a glacier so white they had to blink.
When they looked away, the woman and the baby were still staring at them.
“Do you want some grease?” the woman asked, in English.
“You have to say yes!” whispered Zacharias in Magnus’s ear. “And you have to like it!”
“Um, yes please.” said Magnus.
The woman dug into her pack, and produced a cedar box, and some flat bread. She opened the box and scooped some thick golden liquid onto the bread. She passed it to Magnus.
Then she repeated the procedure for Zacharias.
Magnus said “Thank you,” and brought the bread to his lips. It smelled strong and fishy, like lutefisk. Magus took a small bite. At first he though it was bad. But he could tell his body liked it. He could feel energy flowing to his muscles. He slowly finished the bread and grease, and said “Thank you,” again.
“Yes, thank you,” said Zacharias, liking the last remnants from his lips.
The woman nodded, and her expression changed to one of satisfaction. The baby still stared at the boys.
“What was that?” Magnus asked Zacharias, in a whisper.
“Oolichan grease,” answed Zacharias. “These little fish that come in the spring. You catch them and let them rot and then boil them. And you get the grease. My people make it too, but different.”
“My people make something like that too,” said Magnus, “but it’s a thicker slime, and not as oily.”
Zacharias looked at Magnus. “Liar,” he said.
“No, it’s true!” protested Magnus.
“You are a hundred percent making that up,” accused Zacharias.
“It’s a Norwegian delicacy!” argued Magnus. “We have it every Christmas!”
The boys stopped short when they realized they were arguing out loud. The baby was staring at them. They stopped arguing and watched the scenery slowly scroll by for a couple of more hours.
“Aiyansh,” said the man. The first words he had said to them in three hours. “You can get out here.” The boys looked up. They had come around a bend, and there on the east bank of the river, stood a cluster of frame houses, a white church with a tall steeple, and the poles of the telegraph line.
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