The Wanigan (5 page)

“They're going to break the jam,” Jimmy said, his voice full of excitement. “I sure wish I was going with them.”

The logs were crashing into one another. The jam had grown as high as a mountain. I trembled as I thought of Mr. Poe's words:

Mountains toppling evermore

Into seas without a shore …

The men scrambled over the logs toward the jam. They were nearly there. They looked small and helpless against the great wooden pile. Frenchy stepped onto the jam and the other men followed. I thought of how on our trip down the river we had seen a white cross on the shore to mark the graves of unfortunate lumberjacks.

In a shaky voice Mama said, “I believe I will go inside, Annabel. You'd better come, too.” I stayed put. Jimmy stood next to me. For once he was quiet.

The men pushed and pulled at the logs that were jammed against the bank. One by one they worked the logs loose with their pikes and peaveys. As the logs were loosened, a little water ran through the jam, loosening other logs.

Papa made his way to the middle of the jam. He was down in the center of it.

“He's got an ax!” Jimmy said.

Papa chopped at a log. The other men stopped their work to watch him.

“What's Papa doing?”

Jimmy's voice was respectful. “Now that they got the ends free, your pa's after the key log that's holding up the jam. He'll chop it in half and the logjam'll break up. My dad told me all about logjams.”

“But Papa's right in the middle of the jam,” I said. I was horrified. I hated the wanigan and the river and the great mountain of logs that threatened to fall down upon Papa.

“He'll jump at the last minute,” Jimmy said. “He'll be all right.” But Jimmy didn't sound all that sure.

At that moment the log split. Papa jumped but wasn't quick enough. He was in the water. The logjam was breaking up every which way. It was all around him. Logs were tumbling everywhere. Big Tom jumped into the water and Frenchy followed. The logs came at them. They were swimming and dodging the logs. I closed my eyes, but I couldn't keep them closed. The men were fighting off the logs. Now Penti Ranta and Teddy McGuire were in the water, stretching out their hands to Big Tom and Frenchy, making a chain to the shore. Frenchy caught Papa by the arm. The water spilled over the breaking jam and rushed down on them. Frenchy lost Papa and got him again.

The other men dragged Frenchy and Big Tom and Papa onto the bank. Papa was safe. I ran for Mama and buried myself in her arms. I sobbed out what had happened. We couldn't stop crying.

When the men climbed onto the wanigan, Mama threw her arms around each one of them, never caring about their wet clothes.

“I can't thank you enough,” she said. “You saved my William's life.”

“He's the one took the chances,” Teddy McGuire said.

Papa gave a little laugh. “Never remember having so much fun in my life.” He took my hand. I felt the cold and the wetness and shivered. I looked up at him. He was smiling down at me, but there was no smile in his eyes, only a look that said he was mighty glad to be there.

After they changed out of their wet clothes, the men were back in the wanigan for supper, making jokes and laughing about what had happened. I noticed, though, Mama and Papa were sitting close to one another. Later I saw the men looking out at the river of logs that floated ahead of us. They looked at them as if the logs were a raging tiger that had learned how to escape from its cage.

ALL WE SEEK TO KEEP HATH FLOWN

I awoke with a most woeful feeling. I was miserable. This was the day I would have to part with Bandit. The day before Bandit had snatched one of the fish meant for dinner and had run off with it. He was so big and strong I had trouble holding on to him. I knew in my heart that it wasn't fair to keep him in a cage, yet when I let him loose nothing in the wanigan was safe. He ate the pies Mama set out to cool. He even ate a cake of soap, so that little bubbles came out of his mouth.

“Annabel,” Papa had said, “the best thing for Bandit is to let him go.”

“Just think how happy he'll be to make friends with other raccoons,” Mama said.

I held out for two days but today was the day. Since it was a special day, Mama let me give Bandit a pancake, which he ate in dainty bites, making scallops as he turned it in his clever paws.

With Bandit in my arms, Jimmy and I waded onto the sandy shore. The land there had not yet been timbered. Instead of acres and acres of stumps, there were tall pines. We walked under the branches of the giant pines, their fallen needles soft under our feet, their fragrance all around us. A hawk with a red tail took off from an overhead branch. Deerflies buzzed around us. A crow whose caw was half bark and half cough scolded us.

“It's too empty here,” I said. It was. The shade from the feathery pine branches kept out flowers and grasses. I didn't think it would be a cheerful place for Bandit to live. We kept walking until the land dipped and we came to a bowl of timbered land. There were grasses and shrubs where little brown birds flew in and out. A narrow creek, almost hidden by the grasses, divided the bowl in half. Jimmy looked at me and I nodded.

We settled down in the grass. I scratched Bandit behind the ears the way he liked and gave him a kiss. Jimmy patted him on the head. I opened my arms and let him go. At first Bandit just sat there, but after a minute he ambled down to the stream. He stuck his nose into the water. In a minute he was back on the grass, a wriggly crayfish in his paws. We could hear the crackle as he bit into the poor crayfish's shell.

Soon he was running off into the meadow, not even looking over his shoulder. I thought of Mr. Poe's sad line:
“All we seek to keep hath flown.
” First I had lost my dog, Bandit. Now the little raccoon was gone. I couldn't help the tears.

“Maybe I shouldn't have given him to you.” Jimmy gave me a quick look.

I thought about what he said. It was true. If I had never set eyes on Bandit, I wouldn't be sitting there crying.

Finally I said, “I'm glad you gave him to me. If I hadn't been so happy with Bandit, I wouldn't be so sad about losing him.”

Wild canaries swayed in the tops of the yellow mullein plants. A bumblebee buried itself in a blue flower. A chorus of cicadas was humming the same tune over and over.

Jimmy's voice sounded hoarse. “My ma used to tell me stories and make me cornbread, and I sure wouldn't have gone without a ma, even though I did lose her.”

I could see Jimmy was embarrassed at telling me how he felt, for he jumped up, shouting, “Bet I can get you lost.”

The next minute he disappeared. I had followed him into the woods, not paying attention to where we were going. Now I had no idea which way to head.

I called Jimmy's name a couple of times, but there was no answer. I started off in one direction, but after a minute or two, I came to a tangle of blackberry bushes that seemed unfamiliar. Either I was walking in the wrong direction or I hadn't noticed the bushes before. The briers caught at my skirts and scratched my legs. The deerflies got caught in my hair. I changed direction. I began to search for the little stream. I thought I could follow it, for it must flow into the river. The little stream had disappeared. I tried another direction and found nothing but piles of slash, the branches the lumberjacks had cleared from the trunks. The slash was as high as my head and there was no way I could climb over it.

In the distance I saw pines and walked toward them. But when I reached them, I found they were not nearly so tall as the pines Jimmy and I had walked through. Everything around me was unfamiliar. I felt as if I had entered a huge building with a thousand rooms and no way out. I thought of hungry bears and wolves.

There was a quick movement behind a bush. Not a bear or a wolf, but Jimmy. “Told you I'd get you lost.”

I hated Jimmy. I wouldn't say a word to him but dragged sullenly along behind him. When we got to the wanigan, I climbed on board, still furious. All I could think about was getting even.

After supper I had my revenge. Teddy McGuire brought out his violin. He accompanied Penti Ranta in “Marching Through Georgia,” a favorite of the Union soldiers. “Hurrah! Hurrah!” Penti Ranta sang. “We bring the jubilee! Hurrah! Hurrah! The flag that makes you free!” He sang with much spirit and we all joined in the chorus.

“Now, Jimmy,” Teddy McGuire said, “let's hear ‘The Flower of Kildare.'”

Jimmy's face turned red from his ears to his forehead.

“No, Pa,” he pleaded.

Teddy McGuire gave Jimmy a stern look. “Now, boy, don't make me coax you. God gave you a fine voice. Use it.”

Jimmy looked as if he might jump over the deck and flee into the woods, but his father's eye was on him. Still blushing, Jimmy stood up and began the song. The words were pretty enough, with much about beating hearts and sweet kisses. I could see how it pained Jimmy to sing such words in front of everyone. I was standing at the back of the deck behind the others. As he sang, “Soon will my heart beat with joy,” I clasped my hands over my heart. As he sang, “Again her sweet kisses I hope to receive,” I made kissing motions with my mouth. You wouldn't think it possible, but Jimmy got even redder. When he finished, he didn't wait for applause but stormed over the side of the wanigan and disappeared into the bunk shack. He wasn't seen again that night.

Before I went to bed that evening, I asked Mama, “Why is Jimmy so nice sometimes and so hateful other times?”

Mama smiled. “Well, dear, Jimmy is a good and kind boy, but I believe his soft heart embarrasses him. He thinks it more manly to be rough and bold, but I'm sure his good nature will always get the better of him. And, Annabel, it would be kinder if you stopped tormenting the poor boy. Don't think I missed your taunting him tonight.”

“But, Mama, he—”

“Now, Annabel, that's enough. Go to sleep.”

But I lay awake for a long time thinking about Bandit alone in the woods and whether I would ever speak to Jimmy again—and whether he would speak to me. At last I imagined I was queen of an enchanted forest where wolves and bears did my bidding and I had a castle full of well-behaved raccoons.

THE MOSSY BANKS

When I awoke the next morning, I hurried as I always did to look out the window. Each day I found something new to see. A great blue heron swept by, legs arrowed out behind it. A kingfisher was perched on a branch looking for small fish. A mink slunk in and out of the logs. There were high banks on either side of the river. A deer was grazing on the crest of the south bank. I resolved to tell no one about the deer. Tasty as venison was, I didn't want to see the graceful deer on my plate.

Papa and the other men ate their breakfast quickly. There had been little rain and the river was low, leaving many logs high and dry. The men were now working the riverbanks from sunup to sundown.

I watched them climb over the deck and wade ashore. The Indian, Big Tom, stood beside me for a minute looking out at the river. With more words than I had ever heard from him before, he said, “My people traveled this river from Lake Huron to Lake Michigan. In the same way you travel up and down a road in a wagon, we traveled up and down the river in our canoes.” He sighed. “It sure looks a different river now.” The next minute he was over the side and joining the others.

I imagined what the river must have been like long ago, with birchbark canoes floating down it, and with no lumbermen and no logs and no wanigan. As the canoes glided silently along, the Indians must have seen bears and wolves and all the secrets of the woods that we never saw, with our noisy traveling.

After the men left, Jimmy asked me to go exploring with him. I wanted to say no, but I remembered Mama's words. Since Jimmy had forgiven me my teasing, I resolved to put aside my anger at him for losing me in the woods. Warily I agreed.

Jimmy and I climbed to the top of the steep bank and walked along the path deer had made on the bank's crest. Mr. Poe had written of such
“mossy banks and
…
meandering paths.
”

Jimmy and I had a fine view of the river and the harvest of logs that floated along on its surface. The hot July sun beat down on us. Mosquitoes hummed about our heads and needled our arms and legs.

The bank had been timbered, with nothing left but a few twisted oaks that gave no shade. Grass and wildflowers had taken root. Orange hawkweed and lacy wild carrot were everywhere. We scared up squirrels and a fat woodchuck who waddled away, stopping every now and then to look over its shoulder at us. I kept an eye out for Bandit, though I knew he was far away. Twice we found patches of raspberries and ate until the crimson juice ran down our chins.

Suddenly Jimmy stopped and put his finger to his mouth. At first I thought it was just another of his silly games, but when I listened I could hear men's voices coming from the river below us. Jimmy signaled me to stay quiet. We walked on tiptoe, keeping back from the bank so the men wouldn't see us. The voices grew louder. We crept to the bank's edge and peered down. They weren't our men. Two strangers were hunched over the end of a log. The log had been stranded along the bank when the river level had gone down.

I saw that the men had a marking hammer. “What are they doing?” I whispered.

Jimmy was watching the men. His mouth was a little open.

“Why are those men marking the logs here along the river?” I asked, still whispering.

“They're timber pirates,” Jimmy whispered back. His eyes were very large. “Look at the mark they're making. They're putting a circle right around our star. They'll say that's their mark. A circle around a star. They're stealing our logs.”

Sure enough. They moved on to another log with our star and hammered a circle on that one. When they finished, they wedged their pikes under the logs and sent them down the river. When the logs reached the mouth of the river in Oscoda, the timber pirates would claim them for their own.