Coppermine (27 page)

Angituk had been to enough white settlements to have seen multi-storey buildings before—though never ones nearly so high or so numerous—and the vehicles that moved without dog teams, using engines like the one that powered the riverboat, but it was the sheer number of people in the streets and railway yards that amazed her. Far too many to count. How could anyone ever find a particular person here? Where would she start looking?

Creed spoke to Uluksuk with affection and reassurance and Angituk translated.

“Are you ready for this?”

“Yes.”

“They will not hurt you.”

“I am prepared for this adventure,” Uluksuk told him.

“Good.” Jack smiled sadly at him as the train came to a slow, shrieking stop.

A FINAL TELEGRAM
had told Creed to expect a small welcoming contingent and to have his prisoners ready with him, dressed in their “Native garb.” Still, Creed wasn’t prepared for the fanfare that greeted them. As they appeared at the door, a company of twenty-five Royal North West Mounted Police officers in formal dress came to crisp attention and a military band struck up a rousing version of “The Maple Leaf Forever.”

Creed studied the prisoners, who were overwhelmed by the crowd, the noise, and the intimidating vastness of the city beyond. Angituk too was in awe, but she smiled at Creed under her fedora. He quelled the impulse to take her hand.

When the verse was finished, the band fell silent and Superintendent Worsley came forward. Creed descended the two steps and returned his salute.

“Corporal Creed reporting, sir!”

Worsley gave him an enthusiastic handshake. “Welcome home, Creed. Well done! Bloody well done, indeed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Angituk, Sinnisiak, and Uluksuk all stepped down, staying as close to Creed as possible. Worsley assessed the prisoners for a moment, then gestured to four officers behind him, who began clapping manacles and shackles on their hands and feet.

“That’s really not necessary, sir.”

The Super replied quietly, “Orders from above, Creed.”

One officer was trying to put handcuffs on Angituk, who, though dismayed, held out her hands as ordered.

“Not him, Constable. He’s the translator,” Creed told him.

When the prisoners were suitably restrained, Worsley himself positioned Creed between Uluksuk and Sinnisiak in front of the train, then gestured to the press that this was their moment. Six cameramen rushed forward and flash powder began to explode. Creed tried to turn away, but finally Worsley ordered him into a posed shot and he obeyed. Sinnisiak cringed at the flashes as if he’d been shot.

Sinnisiak looked to Jack, who gave him silent reassurance. Sinnisiak stood still, though he continued to look worried.

The officers tried to hold the crowd back as it surged forward to see Creed and the primitive murderers.

There were press from the
Toronto Star,
the Montreal
Gazette,
and of course the Alberta papers, both the
Edmonton Journal
and the
Calgary Herald.
The
Chicago Tribune
had a man and there was another from the
San Francisco Chronicle.
A New York reporter, E.K. Mainprize, whose train had just come in that morning, was delighted to be there for the arrival. A friend had telegraphed him about this strange little murder case. He would see to it that it made headlines in
The New York Times.
He had already interviewed Worsley and called out to him now.

“You should be in this, Superintendent.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

The Superintendent stepped into the frame, taking Creed’s place beside Uluksuk. Creed stepped out, relieved, but Worsley ordered him back in. Uluksuk studied the Superintendent for a moment, then duplicated his stance and expansive smile. The Superintendent noticed Angituk off to one side.

“There’s the translator. Come in, Mr. McAndrew. Into the picture.”

Showing fear for the first time, Angituk shook her head.

“Come on, man. You’re an important part of this.”

Reluctantly, Angituk stepped in beside Sinnisiak, hat in hand, her chopped hair shadowing her downcast face, which was turned slightly sideways from the camera. There was another round of photos taken of the five of them.

A short distance away in the crowd, Nicole Harvey surveyed it all. Her gorgeous face was bright with a proud smile. Her hair was bobbed and curled in the most recent Paris style in solidarity with that war, and she wore a long silk dress and jacket with heels. She held back, waiting for the right moment.

“Jack!”

Creed only had a moment to glimpse her before she ran to embrace him, and kissed him on the lips. Creed was startled, first by the public kiss and then by how natural she felt in his arms.

She spoke intimately, her throaty voice in his ear. “This is so exciting, Jack. Look what you’ve done! I’m so proud of you, darling.”

The camera flashes were going off like artillery and all Creed could do was smile.

“Thank you, Nicole.”

Angituk had watched as the attractive white woman made her way through the crowd with her eyes so intent on Creed, like a wolf after a young caribou. Creed talked closely to the woman and they shared a smile and a kiss. Suddenly Angituk felt a thousand miles away from him.

Mainprize had taken out his little notebook. “Pardon me, Miss Harvey. Corporal Creed? E.K. Mainprize of
The New York Times.
Did these cogmollocks give you any trouble?”

“They realized they had little choice and came along quietly.”

“Would you call them Stone Age men?”

“They have no forged metals.” The other reporters were scribbling notes.

“Is it true they are cannibals?”

“Well, I … I think you’ll have to wait for the trial on that.”

“From the place of arrest, how far is it to Edmonton?”

“Maybe … fifteen hundred miles.”

“Fifteen hundred miles! And were there times you feared for your life—not to mention your limbs?”

This garnered some laughter. Suddenly a dozen reporters were shouting out queries and the Superintendent stepped in.

“All right, gentlemen. Corporal Creed and I have to debrief.”

Worsley gestured to the attentive bandleader, who had been looking over his shoulder at the Superintendent, arms and baton raised. They started up with “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary.”

Lyle Cowperthwaite pushed his way through the crowd to Creed, grabbed his hand, and pumped it. He needed to shout over the enthusiastic music. “We’re so proud of you, Creed! So proud!”

“We’ll walk to the detachment,” Worsley instructed.

With an arm gesturing in the air and the band continuing to play, Worsley led Creed and the others south along 105th Street.

The municipal police officers struggled to maintain an open route for them down the crowded street. Worsley walked with a determined step, his face set and serious. Creed followed, with Nicole smiling and proudly clutching his arm. Behind them walked Uluksuk and Sinnisiak, both shuffling along in their shackles with an officer on either side. Angituk brought up the rear. The crowds fell back to make room and stared at what the papers had called “Stone Age Cannibals” with absolute fascination.

Sinnisiak and Uluksuk stared out at their surroundings: the tall buildings with faces at the high windows, an electric tram, a Clydesdale pulling a heavy wagon.

“How do they grow those dogs so big?”

“I don’t know.”

Sinnisiak peered back at the faces in the crowd. “They’re not going to grab us again, are they?”

“I don’t think so,” Uluksuk reassured him. “They would have done so by now. But don’t show them you have fear. Pretend they are bears or walruses. Stick out your chest and raise your hands.”

The two hunters put their shackled hands in the air to show their courage and intimidate the crowd. The crowd was delighted. The cannibals were waving! Two hundred arms waved back at them in welcome.

Sinnisiak was amazed. “I never dreamed anything like this place could exist.”

“Maybe it doesn’t.”

The procession made a left onto Jasper and continued east. The band marched behind them in the street, now playing “Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag.”

Angituk, walking alone, was trying to get a glimpse of Creed up ahead and didn’t immediately notice that a young reporter had fallen in step beside her.

“You speak English?”

“Yes.”

“You’re the interpreter, right? You went with Creed?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see the bodies of the priests and everything?”

Angituk was intent on keeping watch on Creed and the question didn’t register.

“What do you think of Edmonton?”

“It’s very big. So many people,” she answered distractedly.

Angituk decided not to try to see what Creed was doing. She didn’t want to think about Creed or the woman. She had another idea now and suddenly looked the young man in the eye and asked him, “Do you know Angus McAndrew?”

“No.”

Angituk picked out certain faces in the crowd as she walked along and asked them, “Do you know Angus McAndrew? Do any of you know Angus McAndrew?”

Blank, white, slack-jawed faces stared at the half-Eskimo boy. Angituk tried a few more times, shouting over the music, but no one responded to her question. They were passing Wellington Terrace now, overlooking the wide brown river. Straight ahead of them, the police barracks waited like a castle fortress.

As they approached the detachment, Superintendent Worsley, Creed, and Nicole continued toward the front entrance to the building while other officers grabbed the arms of Uluksuk and Sinnisiak and directed them around to the holding cells. Angituk followed. They looked to Creed for reassurance, when suddenly he turned back to them for a moment, raised an arm, and shouted out over the crowd, “It’s okay. Go with the officers.”

Angituk translated this for the prisoners while she watched Creed and the blond woman enter the detachment together. Then they were gone.

CREED SAT
in the walnut-panelled mess with the Superintendent, his friend Lyle Cowperthwaite, and several officers, drinking whiskey. As a woman, Nicole was banned from the mess, but she had cheerily ordered Creed to meet her later that night for dinner at the Macdonald, kissed his cheek, and left him to his colleagues. After a toast to Creed, Cowperthwaite brought in several copies of the afternoon
Herald.
The headline read
STONE AGE MAN MEETS BRITISH LAW!

“It’s a huge story, Creed. There are journalists and law professors from all over North America coming into town to observe the trial. England, too. And a couple of Frenchmen. It’s something other than the war. Who is that fellow … Edwin Keedy? From the Harvard Law School in Boston. He’s brought twelve postgraduate students to observe.”

Creed smiled at Cowperthwaite’s enthusiasm. “I had no idea.”

“You’re a hero, Creed. A real hero.”

“I was lucky.”

Superintendent Worsley interjected. “What you did represents the basic tenet of the force, Creed: to maintain order and prosecute the laws of the Dominion throughout our country, even unto the North Pole!”

“So you’re saying if Santa Claus started stealing toys—”

The other officers laughed. Creed had to make light of the accolades. In truth, he found them irritating. Any man here could have done what he did. He was lucky, that’s all. Creed took a long drink from his whiskey and his thoughts drifted again to Angituk.

ULUKSUK AND SINNISIAK
stood naked and shivering in the shower stalls of the detachment as two officers, stripped to their undershirts, roughly turned the hunters around and sprinkled them liberally with powdered insecticide.

“They don’t seem hostile. Mine is even smiling a little,” Uluksuk commented.

“That is good in our culture, but as you have told me, the Cree smile before they kill you.”

“I do not think they mean to kill us. Why would they have brought us all this way? Creed would not let them.”

“Let us see what they do.”

The two RNWMP officers were firm with them, giving orders in a language they didn’t understand. The showers were a shock, but the warm water felt good on their skin. The officers held them still at first and then released them when they did not resist.

Sinnisiak turned to Uluksuk. “Look how they control the rain to make it fall in this small spot.”

“They are very smart.”

“And so nice and warm. It must come from the sun.”

The officers handed each of them a bar of soap, but they both found it tasted terrible.

“This isn’t caribou fat!”

The officers gestured impatiently for them to rub the soap on their bodies and the hunters understood and did so with enthusiasm.

“You smell so good, like spring flowers.”

“I am going to do what they want so I can stay a long time in the warm rain.”

“Good idea.”

A new man in a white coat came to see them, and he didn’t smile at all at first. He put his hands on them in different places, and examined their eyes and teeth. Uluksuk warned Sinnisiak when he pulled back.

“It’s all right. Let him. He is a shaman checking for bad spirits.”

The white shaman placed on their chests a cold metal circle that was attached to his ears.

“Very interesting, giving sounds he hears to our hearts,” Uluksuk said aloud. “I must make one of those.”

The doctor announced to no one in particular, “Excellent specimens. Fine physical shape.” And though they did not understand, Sinnisiak and Uluksuk were pleased to see him happy. They smiled and nodded back to him.

They were given plaid shirts and blue denim trousers. The material felt scratchy compared with the silky deer and caribou hide they were used to, but the officers gave them candies to compensate and the prisoners felt that was a good deal. The candies gave them little bursts of pleasure they’d never experienced before.

Sinnisiak felt the light material of the shirt between his fingers. “I wouldn’t want to go into snow wearing this.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t think we’ll be going into snow any time soon.”

The final transition was the hair. Two men sat them in chairs with blankets around their shoulders and used scissors to cut their long hair and beards. The hair fell to the ground. Uluksuk admired the tools as he sucked another humbug.