LITMIR.BIZ

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slight of stature, and smiles incessantly. His name is too difficult to pronounce and so the men have taken to calling him Peter. Of the two he speaks the best English. Both boys speak Chinook Wawa — a dialect commonly understood among many coastal tribes. As I observed them, they appeared unaffected by the cold despite their simple attire. In fact they appear to have no natural aversion or annoyances to the season at all.

      Once I saw that they were sturdy and would be quite useful to us as interpreters I set about convincing Mister Lockhart. He pressed the chief to increase the count on furs and we nearly lost the deal. As it stands — in addition to the Muhkaw interpreters we are to receive one hundred otter pelts. In exchange Chief Snoqualmie is to get fifty knives, twenty flint, a sachet of buttons, a box of tinware, and twenty of our best wool blankets.

      I made him a solemn promise that at the end of this expedition I would ensure his young warriors would arrive home safely. He held my hand firmly and gazed long and hard into my eyes. I understood immediately his intent and repeated my vow to bring the young men home. My word is all I have and I am grateful that it was all he needed to feel reassured.

      We will stay here with the Muhkaw until the warmer winds blow. This will give us time to acclimate and fatten the livestock.

      Captain James Whittaker

      I could tell by the way Amanda was snoring that she was now in really deep REM sleep mode — probably where I should have been too. Okay, I promised myself — just one more entry from the captain’s log and I’d turn off the light.

      April 12th, 1812

      Three days ago we had a near mishap after we stopped in a small bay. Loki and Peter went ashore with the crew. They are sturdy young men, but I can tell they miss the feel of solid ground. Then Loki went missing. When it was time to return to the ship he was nowhere to be found. Some of the men suspected he had deserted us — a suggestion made by Mister Lockhart. After a lengthy and thorough search for the lad Lockhart insisted he had indeed run away and that valuable time was being lost. He expected me to set sail without Loki. I daresay the gentleman still does not know me well. I could do no such thing after making a promise to his father. Until I was fully satisfied that nothing more could be done the ship would sail not a fathom. Then just before Mister Lockhart could protest further, out of the forest the lad emerged. Not only was he well, but draped over his shoulder was no less than a dozen otter pelts.

      The next morning Loki and Peter communicated a deal with the Salish speakers and we are now 300 pelts richer. While Mister Lockhart was most pleased, he did not admit that it would have been a mistake had we actually left Loki behind. I daresay he completely forgot that he had suggested such a thing in the first place.

      These warm winds are a welcome change to the ice and sleet and have created improved spirits amongst the men. Even Mister Lockhart himself has thawed somewhat.

      Captain James Whittaker

      Chapter Seven

      While I was aboard the Sea Weed I felt fine, but the moment I stepped onto the dock my legs turned to rubber. As we walked up the gangway to meet Chief Charles I was worried they might collapse under me.

      “Hello, Dr. Hunter and friends. Welcome,” greeted the chief. As Captain Hunter introduced the team I took a moment to glance around. The village had a dozen small buildings, a longhouse, and some totems — many lying on their sides. For a moment it felt like we’d stepped back in time. I glanced out to where the Sea Weed was docked and wondered how far we were to the sunken Intrepid. I got goose bumps imagining it was two hundred years earlier and I was a Kwakwaka’wakw seeing the Intrepid the day it sailed into the inlet.

      “Yes, we’d very much enjoy having a look around,” Captain Hunter answered in response to the chief’s invitation. We followed Chief Charles along a narrow pathway that led to the east side of the island. We stopped in front of what looked like an excavation site.

      “You can see by these visible rows of rectangular house depressions that this was once a large and thriving community. Years ago some other archaeologists came to excavate them and found a variety of things in different locations.” We walked a little farther until we came to some grassy mounds with portions of exposed soil. “And here you can see one of the many shell middens — the rich black soil is full of cultural material, like whale bones. This was the place where my ancestors processed their food. The archaeologists studied the toolmarks on the whale bones to learn exactly how they were butchered.” I bent over and fingered a number of dried bone fragments littered throughout the midden. I’d learned about shell middens during the excavation at Crescent Beach, which contained such things as crushed horse and littleneck clam, tiny fish vertebra, deer bone, and sometimes even human remains. No one knows for sure why the Coast Salish buried their dead in the middens — maybe to keep them away from wild animals. As I was thinking, my eye caught sight of a small blue object. I leaned in closer to check it out and suddenly my heart leapt.

      “Captain, look!” I pointed until both the chief and the captain glanced down at the little gem at the end of my finger.

      “Good eye, young lady … you’ve spotted a trade bead. Over the years we’ve found hundreds — if not thousands — around our village. I’ll show you later.” Chief Charles then led us to a little white house that overlooked the ocean — a view Mom would say was worth millions. As we all crowded into the tiny kitchen, I noticed a little white-haired lady standing at the stove, frying something on an old black skillet. Whatever she was cooking, it filled the room with a smell that was both sweet and oily.

      “This is my mother, Passulip. She doesn’t speak English too much. But she made you all some bannock — please sit and try her food.” Once we were seated I took a piece of the warm flat bun and waited to see what the chief was going to do with it. “Come,” he urged. “I’m sure you’ll like it if you dip it in some cinnamon and sugar.” I followed his lead.

      “Mmmm, this is delicious,” I mumbled between bites. “Almost like a donut.” When Passulip smiled at me her eyes crinkled with laugh lines and her full brown cheeks caused me to smile too.

      “Bannock is our traditional food — just not the cinnamon and sugar,” said the chief. “But the young ones — they like it like this.” While we ate, the woman poured dark tea into cups and added canned milk and honey. By the time we’d finished I was feeling warm and full.

      As the adults talked I glanced around the kitchen. There was a stone bowl on the windowsill much like the kinds I’d seen at the museum. And wooden carvings and bone objects sat unceremoniously on top of the fridge, while on the wall hung a carved whale bone. Then something completely different caught my eye.

      “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to a round brass object that looked a bit like a compass. Passulip followed my eye to the object and then spoke to her son in her native language.

      “Mother and I agree that you have a sharp eye. That came from the ship that you seek. It was given to our people by one of the European sailors two hundred years ago.”

      “May I look closer?” asked Captain Hunter. The chief passed the metal thing to the captain. “Fascinating … this is a very old sextant … the kind of navigational device commonly used by sailors during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.”

      “It was given in thanks to the chief who spared the lives of the survivors.”

      “Obviously with no ship they had no use for it — so it did make a very good thank-you gift. Does your mother have stories passed down to share about the sailors that visited here so long ago?” asked Captain Hunter.

      The chief translated his mother’s words in a slow and soothing voice. “The day the white men arrived was a day to remember,” he said. “As the story goes their great canoe arrived in our cove under three small white clouds.”

      “Small white clouds? Do you mean sails?” I asked eagerly. Chief Charles smiled and nodded.

      “Yes, young lady. But I prefer using the imagery of the old ones.”

      “Oh,

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