Coppermine (15 page)

Creed began taking notes in his journal.

“They told us about the good place in the sky and the bad fiery place under the ice. They showed pictures of these places, with creatures like us in the fiery place and white humans with wings in the place above in the sky. They gave us pictures of a white man with long hair and a thick beard and pictures of his mother. They showed us how to use our hands.” Koeha placed his hands together as if in prayer. “And how to do this.” Koeha crossed himself. “They taught us to sing songs in their language.”

Koeha suddenly broke into song. To Creed’s surprise, everyone joined in with “Silent Night.”

Douce nuit, sainte nuit!

Dans les cieux, l’astre luit.

Le mystère annoncé s’accomplit.

Cet enfant sur la paille endormi,

C’est l’amour infini,

C’est l’amour infini!

Koeha put up a hand so he could go on. “They put tiny bits of food in our mouths and then they chanted. We let them do it. It made them happy.” Koeha paused. “It was a very bad season for food when they were with us. The camp was hungry. “

Many of the other men in the snow house were nodding at the memory. Koeha gestured to a short, powerful man across the snow house with a wide face, dark eyes, and elaborately braided hair.

“This man, Kormik, brought them north to us. Tell the story.”

Kormik spoke to Creed, and Angituk translated.

“I found the white men between the Dismal Lakes and the Coppermine when we hunted late-summer caribou. They made signs to me and I believed that they would trade me their rifle in exchange for taking them here to the mouth. So I took them.”

Koeha continued: “They stayed in our camp for several days, as I said. It was a time of hunger for us. The fish and caribou were gone, but the sea ice was not yet in, so we could not go out after seal. We were all very hungry and many were weak and sick. After a few days we had no more food for them and the white men decided to go back south. We gave them two weak dogs to help them pull their qamutik. I went with them and helped them pull the sled until they were away from camp. Then I came back.

“There was an
angatkuk
named Uluksuk that we knew, staying near our camp with his family and his friend, a hunter named Sinnisiak, and his family.”

“What is an
angatkuk?”
Creed asked Angituk.

“A shaman.”

“Okay. Ask him to go on.”

“Two days after the white men left, Uluksuk and Sinnisiak went up toward Bloody Falls to fish. When they returned three days later, they had the white men’s rifles, their clothing, pictures and books, and my two dogs, which they gave back. They told everyone they felt badly but they had to kill the white men.”

“They admitted it?”

“Yes.”

“Did they say why?”

“They said the white men scared them. They had never seen white men before. They thought the white men were going to kill them. We didn’t ask more questions, but we went to see for ourselves.”

“You went to Bloody Falls?”

“Yes. We saw the dead white men and took some of the belongings that were left.”

Creed’s rising voice revealed his ire. “You took their belongings?”

The people looked very worried again.

“The white men would not need them anymore.”

“We put flat rocks on the bodies to protect them and smaller rocks around them, but then we had fear of the spirits and ran.”

Koeha took out a children’s picture book of Bible stories and a rosary. “Here. You can take these back if you want.”

Creed took the articles for evidence. “Do you know where this shaman Uluksuk is now? And the hunter Sinnisiak?”

“Oh yes. They are both just up the coast near the Rae River. Only a few miles.”

Creed felt a new excitement at the prospect of apprehending the suspects. He read his notes aloud to Koeha, had Angituk do a quick translation for him, and asked him to sign them with an X as being the truth. He then thanked Koeha again for his hospitality.

“The shaman Uluksuk is powerful. He has been good to us, bringing back the seals twice, and once the caribou. However, I do not know him well. Be careful.”

“Do they have the priests’ rifles?”

“Yes.”

Seven

Creed and Angituk walked across the windswept sea ice of the bay on the way to the shaman’s camp. The daytime moon came into view between ragged, cruising clouds. Far out on the ocean they could see churning ice packs. It would not be long before freeze-up, and the seal hunt could begin.

The snowfall was increasing, whipped by an intermittent west wind that would conceal their approach. Creed used his compass to maintain a straight line on their heading. The new boots that Koeha’s wife had made for him were remarkably comfortable, light and watertight. They had said a sad goodbye to the pretty Peterborough canoe and left her in Koeha’s camp as a gift, along with the heavy tent. They carried the wanigans with food, clothing, and sleeping bags through two feet of snow. Creed had the twelve-pound .38-55 in one hand and the Colt in his holster. He was exhausted, but they were about to confront the men he had come more than a thousand miles to find, and he quickened his pace.

He looked back at Angituk, making her confident way through the growing snowstorm with no difficulty. She carried sixty pounds on her back and he smiled thinking of her. She gave him heart.

Angituk had become quiet and concerned since they left Koeha’s camp. She came up to walk beside Creed and spoke during a brief lull in the wind.

“I remember the shaman Uluksuk. He is well known. My people were usually west of here near the Dolphin Strait, but he visited us once when I was a little girl. It is known he can turn himself into a wolf or a bear. Some people have seen this. And others say that he spent two days under the sea ice to meet with Kannokapfaluk, the goddess of all animals, and ask her to send the seals one year when there were none. You see, that year Kannokapfaluk had been depressed by the people breaking taboos and she stopped combing her hair and it became matted, so the seals got tangled and couldn’t get to the surface. We were starving. He fixed that. He convinced her we would be good and keep the taboos and she should release the seals from her hair. It is also well reported he has flown up to the moon.”

Creed glared at her impatiently. “Angituk, people don’t become animals or fly to the moon or stay two days under the sea. You’re just scaring yourself. This is a man. That’s all.”

Angituk fell back behind him, chastened. He didn’t have to be rude, she thought. She only wanted to prepare him. Maybe save his life. He doesn’t know all things. No one is wise enough to know everything. The world is full of a thousand mysteries that even a white man can’t know. Especially a white man.

CREED AND ANGITUK
approached Uluksuk’s camp on the shore of the Coronation Gulf from downwind. They hid behind snow-covered shore rocks and watched for several minutes as two men forty yards away skinned an early seal beside a snow house. One wore a black, close-fitting garment. As Creed studied it, he was shocked to realize it was a priest’s cassock. The long cloak had been hacked off just above the knees for ease of movement.

There were two light qamutiks beside the house and five scruffy dogs. The men, intent on their butchering, tossed bits of seal to the dogs from time to time. The snow was lighter now, the wind had dropped, and the air was still.

Creed put his mouth to Angituk’s ear. “I need you to interpret, but stay safe, well behind me. If anything happens I want you to run.”

Angituk nodded. Creed took out two pairs of handcuffs and hung them on his belt. It felt like a trench raid. He withdrew the rifle from the soft sheath and opened the flap of his holster. “You ready?”

Angituk nodded and Creed stood up and walked toward the two men. He held the rifle in his hands but pointed to one side. Angituk followed cautiously.

“YOU! Are you Uluksuk?”

Angituk translated.

The two men let go of the seal and turned to stare at Creed in complete wonder, their mouths open. The one wearing the cassock was the older man, the shaman.

“I am Corporal Creed of the Royal North West Mounted Police. Are you Uluksuk … and you are Sinnisiak?”

The two men stared for another moment as Angituk translated, then both nodded. The shaman recovered first. “I am Uluksuk. This is Sinnisiak. Are you a spirit?”

“No.”

“What do you want?”

“I am looking for the two men who killed the white priests at Bloody Falls.”

Angituk translated and the men’s surprise became fear. Uluksuk turned and grabbed what Creed had not seen leaning in a cleft of the snow house: the priests’ .44 calibre Winchester rifle. Creed threw off his mitten, levered a bullet into the chamber, and swung his rifle, drawing a bead on the shaman. Uluksuk turned back toward him, holding the priests’ rifle out at arm’s length, as an offering. Creed relaxed his trigger finger but kept the rifle trained on the shaman, and spoke to Angituk.

“Take the rifle and cover them with it.”

Angituk did as she was told. Creed put his own rifle to one side and took possession of a second rifle leaning near the younger hunter, then pulled out the handcuffs.

“You are under arrest.”

He demonstrated how they should hold out their hands and they did. They looked down at the handcuffs with alarm and curiosity. They gently tried to pull them apart, testing their bonds. Creed checked the back collar of the shaman’s cassock and found the embroidered name
Père Rouvière.

“Did you kill the priests?” Angituk translated.

Uluksuk answered without hesitation. “Yes, we did.”

Then, for his own personal curiosity, Creed asked, “And did you eat some of their livers?”

Uluksuk answered, “Yes, we did.”

“Okay. You don’t have to tell me any more until you have a lawyer present to represent you.”

Angituk stumbled in the translation. “There is no word for ‘lawyer.’”

“Spokesman? Friend?”

“Maybe … older brother.
Angak,”
she translated.

Three women, several children of varying ages, and three old people who had heard the voices came out of the two igloos and stood staring fearfully at Creed. The women looked at the handcuffs and began to cry. Creed was somehow surprised to see them. Koeha had said there was a family, but Creed had forgotten.

“Who are they?” he asked.

Angituk determined that two of the women, one young and pregnant and one older, were Uluksuk’s wives. Another, who seemed very young, was the wife of Sinnisiak. She was the most upset and fearful of all.

Uluksuk spoke for a moment.

“What did he say?”

“He said he knew you were coming. He has carried this thing a long time in his head and is glad you’ve come. He wants to know if you will kill them now.”

The younger man, Sinnisiak, began to cry.

“Tell them I will not kill them,” Creed said. Angituk translated.

“Will you hit us with sticks?” Sinnisiak asked through his tears.

“Tell them I will not hurt them unless they try to escape. I will take them to the place I come from in the South, where other white men will decide what to do with them.”

“Will you harm our families?”

“No, we will leave your families alone.”

Uluksuk and Sinnisiak, showing relief, spoke to each other, then to Angituk.

“They will co-operate and go with you if you promise not to hurt their families.”

“I promise.”

The two spoke again.

“They want to know if they can take their wives and children with them.”

“No.”

One of the older women spoke up.

“This is Uluksuk’s first wife. She wants us to stay overnight so she can finish new mukluks for Uluksuk to take with him.”

All looked to Creed. It was pretty late now to start out, but it seemed almost suicidal to stay in this camp. He looked at Angituk. “Do you think they mean us harm?”

“No. I believe they are sincere.”

“Tell them if anything happens to me many more white men will come to get them.”

“They know this.”

For the first time Creed appreciated Hornby’s dictum.

“We can take shifts watching them.”

Angituk nodded and told Uluksuk’s wife they would stay.

THROUGH THE EVENING,
Creed watched his two suspects warily, his revolver resting in his lap, his rifle beside him, his back to the snow wall. The gathering was a quiet, tense contrast to the house of Koeha. The family ate raw seal, and caribou partially cooked over the soapstone oil lamp. The women and children watched Creed. At first Creed refused any food. Angituk hungrily ate seal and some caribou.

“It is good, Corporal. Eat some.” And finally he did, served by Uluksuk’s sombre, pregnant second wife.

Creed studied the younger man, the handsome Sinnisiak. Uluksuk was his mentor and he sensed their relationship was close. These close hunting partnerships were common, Angituk had told him, like brothers, or fathers and sons. Sinnisiak’s young wife was braiding her husband’s hair, expressing a deep sadness at the impending departure. Creed realized she was also pregnant. He looked around at the five children to try to guess who belonged to whom. Uluksuk’s first wife worked quickly to finish the mukluks, folding over the top lip with an embroidered stitch, holding the material in her leathery fingers three inches from her nose in the dim light, using an ivory needle and thimble to push through the tough caribou hide.

Uluksuk helped his older son, a boy of twelve, create a short, delicately curved hunting bow from spruce twigs reinforced by a dense braid of sinew and a handle made of muskox horn with leaves of horn extending up and down to give the shaft strength. They tested the tautness of the gut. Uluksuk advised another boy, about eight years old, who looked more like Sinnisiak, on the setting and baiting of a snare. Angituk joined in this casual discussion and laughed once at something Uluksuk said.

In this quiet domestic scene, Creed had to remind himself that these men were murderers. They could jump him and cut his throat in an instant. He had heard their confession and only now, after the exhilaration of finding them and making the arrests, did the full responsibility of the task ahead strike him. It would take months to reach Edmonton. Two hundred nights on guard against attack. If they found Hornby again, he could travel with them and give Creed some relief with the prisoners, but Dease Bay was still many weeks away. Though she was certainly able, he could not depend too heavily on Angituk. It was dangerous and he was not compensating her enough to ask her to be an armed guard. If they killed him, they would think nothing of doing the same to her, though she was of their blood. The risk was deeply troubling to him.