Chance Encounters, page 24
They explained to him how the water was collected in a reservoir way above, then accelerated downhill by gravity, funneled into a canvas hose and shot through a nozzle. The resulting water pressure of the jet stream was then blasted into an exposed hillside, washing the slurry over a giant sluice box.
“It’s the higher elevation that feeds the pressure,” McPhee emphasized.
“Why can’t they do that mechanically? There are machines...”
“Yes, in Vancouver or Fort George. But we’ve got no roads to bring them in.”
“They brought in a sawmill to make their sluice channels.”
“Well why don’t you convince them of your capital idea?” McPhee said with acid in his tone; his silent partner Fortnoy just nodded.
“I just might do that,” Chance decided. “Better than a shooting war. Who’s the boss of the outfit?”
“A guy named Ormond. The mine’s called Emily’s Chance...” Chance’s jaw dropped, then closed. “They have a fort at Rainbow Falls, you might find some of the higher-ups there.” A silence followed as they waited to hear how Chance would respond.
“Tell you what, you folks hold off and tomorrow I’ll go and see if I can talk some sense into them. Maybe we can make some sort of deal.”
“We need water, we can’t yield on that.”
The visitors stayed an uneasy night; Chance felt jumpy having people he didn’t know so close to him. He was awake half the night, the words going around in his head: “Emily’s Chance.” Was fate mocking him? To put those two words together. Who would name a mine that anyway? He was dead set to find out.
Chapter 21
The operation was certainly elaborate. A long sluice brought the water down the hill; the pressure concentrated in a hose and the resulting stream carved up the exposed hillside, draining the slurry over the sluice box. Two men held and aimed the hose while four sorted through the sluice box, discarding rocks and pebbles. The sand was washed away, eventually leaving just the gold caught behind the transverse ridges of the sluice box. That was in theory, if there was any gold to be had for real.
As Chance got nearer, a man stepped from behind a blind with a rifle leveled.
“What you nosing around here for?” an unfriendly voice demanded.
“To talk with Boss Ormond,” Chance said, spreading his hands to show peaceful intent.
“About what?!”
“I’m an engineer...”
The word, barely out of Chance’s mouth, was the key. The guard beckoned, “Follow me.” He led the way to a log cabin.
Inside a young man looked up from behind a rough desk. He regarded Chance with surprise before turning to the guard. “What’ve you brought me, Joshua?”
“He claims to be an engineer...”
“Really? And what would an engineer be doing out here?”
“Negotiating water rights.”
“Are you part of that crew making trouble downstream?”
“Not part of them but I’ve agreed to speak for them. They need more water than you’ve left them with. At least three times as much.”
“We need water too. Without pressure we can’t function.”
“Doesn’t seem fair, it’s against the Mining Commission Rules.”
“Rules don’t apply here.”
“Maybe not. But explosives do.”
Ormond rose from the table. “Are you threatening me?”
“No. But there are desperate people who would.”
“Your prospectors for instance?” Chance didn’t answer. They glowered at each other for a while. Ormond finally sat down. “You might as well take a seat while we chew through this.”
“Look, it’s very simple. We either get more water, or explosives will likely set you back. In the long run it’ll be costlier for you.”
“Let me decide what’s costlier and for whom,” Ormond declared dryly.
“I hear tell in the 60’s, a similar incident caused a bloody riot with 11 killed and 28 wounded. In the end, no one profited. Armed regulators moved in and kicked everyone off their claims. Kinda hate to see that happening here.”
“Neither would I. But I can’t make such a decision on my own. You’d have to talk with the higher-ups to get their agreement.”
“Who are they? And where can they be found?”
“You might try at Rainbow Falls.”
“Good. I’ll go there. But in the meantime, it would be good if you let through more water to avoid trouble preempting any decision.”
“I’ll let more water through until I hear different. We’re interested in avoiding trouble too. I’ll send Joshua with you.” To keep an eye on you, was left unsaid.
“Makes sense. Let me scratch a quick note to my partner to let them know.” Chance scribbled a few lines and folded the paper, handing it over. “If you could make sure it gets to him...” Ormond nodded.
In Joshua’s company, Chance set out right away. He was still a little weak from his illness and had to take it slow, particularly uphill. Joshua regarded him with condescending disdain.
The country got even wilder. Clearing a rise, Chance looked down into a valley backed by rugged cliffs and crisscrossed with water runs. Dense trees and scrub bush, downed giants, obstructed the way. In all his travels, Chance had never seen such breathtaking view. His companion grumbled, eager to reach their destination.
Joshua followed along a faint track that meandered back and forth to get around obstacles. Moss covered rocks and made the path slippery. One had to take care not to have one’s eyes poked out by branches extending into the path.
It took the rest of the day to reach the fort-like structure that was the company’s headquarters. Nestled by a small lake, it had a strong gate and an all-around palisade with a watchtower housing a guard on lookout. “A stronghold,” Chance thought, his military training adding and subtracting strong and weak points. Inside were three buildings. Directly ahead was the main structure, a warehouse stretched on the right and a long bunkhouse claimed the left.
Joshua led Chance into the main building that opened to a large room filled with tables. It was empty now, except for a section at the back where a man was poring over a map. He looked up and regarded Chance with visible suspicion. Joshua reached over a letter which the man tore open and his eyes flew over it.
Harold Brooks introduced himself as the main agent and got right to the point. “So, Ormond tells me you’re here to negotiate.”
“Yes. I was asked to.” Chance was taken aback, as the name came with a load of unpleasant memories of the Brooks brothers wanting to kidnap Emily. Was that almost 30 years ago?
“Of course we wish to avoid any unpleasantness, but we can’t spare the water. The yield is so marginal that reducing extraction would turn it into a loss. Unfortunately, the other sites are not producing much either. Frankly we’d hoped for better. But with all the money invested we can’t stop. This is definitely not the Cariboo rush of ‘65.”
“Why don’t you bring in machinery to boost pressure with pumps instead of volume?”
“Using what roads? Which navigable waterways?” Chance had no answer for that; this was wild backcountry with little access. They stared at each other, grappling with the problem.
“Let’s face it, this field’s played out. We’re just scratching about waiting for the next strike. At first call we’ll be gone, as will your prospectors.” True, Chance conceded.
After a long moment, Chance proposed. “All right, you work during the day and use the full flow, but during the night the water just runs off, no good for anybody. Why not save the night water in a second holding basin and during the day route that to the miners below?”
“Build a second reservoir to collect night water?” The man rubbed his chin, looking at a map of the site. “I suppose it could be done. A lot of work though.”
“I’m sure my crowd would help.”
“If it heads off trouble it’d be worth it. I’ll recommend it.” When Chance looked puzzled, Brooks added, “Yes, I’m in charge, but when any of the owners are around I have to clear it with them.”
“You have the owners here?”
“Three, on inspection tour,” Brooks said with a stone face, from which Chance guessed they weren’t entirely welcome. “Let me take you to them, and you can present your case yourself. They can use the diversion and you’ll get a good supper out of it.”
They walked over to the other building, where one corner was set aside as the owners’ apartments. They were just sitting down at the table. Brooks made the introductions: Chance Percy Fraser to meet Jupiter Pines, Nathan Carmody and his young wife Emily. Brooks was proven right, Chance was invited to partake. It seemed that they were eager to add something new to the table conversation for the evening. Brooks then left.
“Do I detect a trace of English accent, Mr. Fraser?” Emily Carmody asked, her fine eyebrows raised slightly.
“Chance Percy Fraser-Reid from England many years ago, at your service,” Chance affirmed. “But I have dropped the Reid and go by Chance Fraser now.”
“Then I shall call you Percy Fraser, if you don’t mind,” Emily said brightly in her infectious manner. “As a mine owner, hoping to make a strike, Chance is so chancy, if you take my meaning.”
“She has some superstitious beliefs,” Nathan interjected to explain. “And believes in spiritualism...”
“It is all right, Percy Fraser will do.” Chance nodded his head, bemused.
He found it strange to be suddenly thrust into polite company, with a woman present. White females were a rarity in this part of the world. The ones who made it were a hardy, crusty lot, more like men than the weaker sex they were supposed to be.
“Excuse me for staring, M’am, but it’s so unusual to find a lady of your bearing in this wilderness.”
Emily Carmody laughed in delight. “That’s alright, I’m used to it by now.” She smiled and Chance felt his heart jump. “Getting here was quite an achievement. Walking up and down mountains, over nonexistent tracks and untamed waterways. At times I didn’t think I’d make it. But here I am.”
“I didn’t want to bring her, but she insisted. And in spite of what she tells you, she proved to be a real trooper.” The two exchanged affectionate looks.
The other man was older, robustly built, more experienced.
“I was christened Jupiter but everybody calls me Juniper. Juniper Pines. Get it?” He laughed as if he’d made a great joke.
Chance was sitting across from Emily, and looking at her clean, fresh face, he felt grubby. When did he last have a bath? In Vancouver, months ago. He detected a faint smell of apricot from her, astounded that his nose could still smell after being filled by the smoke of many campfires.
Food was served by a man wearing white gloves. Soup, followed by baked fish with wild rice, each mouthful delicious. A bottle of wine was also on the table. They ate with polite restraint, filling the gaps with measured small talk. Afterwards cigars were passed around, and they got down to business.
“So what brings you to us? Brooks wouldn’t have brought you over if it weren’t something vital.”
Chance explained the situation and the proposed solution. The men listened, puffing on their cigars; Emily fanned the smoke away with her hand. When Chance was finished, she was the first to comment. “So then Brooks must be in agreement, otherwise he wouldn’t have let it come this far.” Chance nodded.
“It’ll cost time away from production,” Nathan Carmody said, undecided.
“Dear, money’s not the only measure here,” his wife remarked.
“But peace is,” Juniper said. “I’m for it. But will it appease your crowd?”
“I believe so. The only alternative is some sort of war, and no one really wants that.” Chance looked questioningly around the table and was met with a general nodding of heads. The matter was quickly settled. Juniper grabbed what remained of the bottle, took himself over to the fireplace, settled into an armchair someone had lugged all the way from Fort George and finished enjoying his cigar.
Of the Carmodys, Emily was definitely the hungrier for some outside news and perspective. She asked about Chance’s background. He skipped over his life like a child’s stone thrown across the surface of a lake. Orphaned, Chief Engineer on a steam ship, plantation owner in Mississippi, Major in the Civil War, Chief Mechanic on the railroad, and presently a partner in a gold claim.
“And are you pulling much out of the ground?” she asked.
“Not much, M’am. We’re panning in a side creek. A little color is all.”
“I envy you men. You can go all over the world and have hundreds of adventures denied us women. Although I must say my mother had a few of her own.”
“Dear, I’m sure Mr. Fraser doesn’t want to hear about your mother’s adventures,” her husband cautioned.
“Why not? It’s remarkable what all she has achieved.”
“True, but she doesn’t have to be dragged into every conversation. Let’s enjoy Mr. Fraser’s company instead.”
“Yes, of course, please excuse me. My mother’s a remarkable person but doesn’t have to dominate every conversation.” The couple exchanged pointed looks and Chance felt that this had been a continuing issue. From then, they exchanged stories from more civilized times not part of this wilderness.
Chance found out a few things about the couple beside the obvious English accent that gave away their origins. They’d come to America, the land of opportunity, to make their fortunes, and stayed a while in Boston but unfortunately, made a number of poor investments that cost them. They eventually moved to Toronto where they bought into this gold venture in newly created British Columbia. So far it had been only marginally rewarding.
“If it wasn’t for my mother...” Emily stopped herself and switched topics. “You know my husband is an ornithologist. There isn’t anything he doesn’t know about birds.” Her voice glowed with pride and immediately he perked up. “You should listen... no, you must come with us tomorrow to this bit of marsh; I promise you it will be an unforgettable experience.”
Faced with her endearing enthusiasm, Chance could only agree to take part. Shortly after, the company dissolved.
Next morning, the men got together and hammered out a plan with a workable schedule. Chance wrote a longer letter of explanation to Jeremiah which Brooks promised to have delivered. Then he made himself available for the proposed outing.
In an aside, Brooks cautioned. “Watch out for them. They think they know the wilderness, but they don’t really.”
The three set out with a picnic basket and followed a track that wound through a dense bit of forest. From time to time, Chance heard something following in the undergrowth, thinking it could perhaps be a mountain lion, quite common in these parts. He readied his rifle and not for the first time wished he had a Henry repeater instead of the single shot Sharps from the Civil War. He noted that Nathan had a single shot Enfield that had been popular with the South. Both rifles were accurate, of course, but were slow loaders on account of fumbling with the percussion caps. Some miles along they emerged into an open valley with a small lake fringed with waving cane and marsh grass. On the far end a beaver dam held back the water to create the lake. On the high shore, they spread out a blanket, settled on it, and had their meal: cold roasted venison with crusty bread, wine and dried apples. The hamper had room for a bottle and glasses, even napkins, all very civilized.
Afterwards, Emily looked at her husband and said encouragingly, “Go ahead, Dear.”
Nathan looked eager, ready to please. “This place is full of birds. Listen to their chatter, it’s all very distinct.” They listened, Chance aware for the first time of the varied sounds as the birds advertised their presence with loud calls. “That’s a red-breasted nuthatch,” Nathan said softly, then he pursed his lips and imitated the call. It sounded authentic to Chance’s ear, and immediately all the nuthatches within earshot answered. For a while Nathan continued this conversation, varying the sound. Then he demonstrated a Western tanager, a ruby-crowned kinglet and a winter wren. He soon had the whole marsh in an uproar as flocks of birds swirled in the air trying to figure out the who and why. Delighted, Emily clapped her hands while Nathan just looked pleased. It warmed Chance’s heart to see such tenderness and enthusiasm demonstrated, and he felt strangely sad. Was that something he was ever going to find? His thoughts veered to his Emily, the fantasy who haunted his dreams. He grew more and more quiet, as the other two enjoyed the warm sunshine, the open air, the birds, and every aspect of a perfect day.
Later, the couple took their boots and socks off and waded into the shallows, enjoying the soft clay bottom oozing through their toes. Chance lay on the blanket watching the two giggle and splash around in the water. Abruptly Nathan froze and tilted his head into the air, listening. Suddenly there was a deep quiet, not a bird sound from anywhere. Immediately Chance picked up his rifle and scanned around. On the water’s edge, not 40 feet away, were two big brown bears following the shore line, fishing.
“Stay put, don’t move, don’t attract their attention,” Chance stage-whispered urgently. Very slowly he edged between the couple and the bears, holding his rifle ready, calculating his chances. The bears paused and turned their full attention on the three humans. Again Chance considered: the humans were intruders here, trespassing on private territory. He remembered seeing tufts of brown hair stuck in the bark of trees and an odd smell: bears marking ownership of their territory. Why had he not been more cautious?
If the bears charged now, Chance had one shot for two. How was he going to do that? The couple, to their credit, hadn’t moved but in fascination watched the two bears making up their minds. Slowly, they sidled closer to the shore.
Chance eased himself down onto a knee, near Nathan’s rifle. At least now he had the possibility of two shots. But what if he missed with either? Stay cool, he told himself.
The bears were growling, asserting their rights, standing upright, turning their heads from the side to side; they were obviously confused by the separate groupings. Who to attack? The whole world waited for a decision. The bears rumbled back and forth, discussing it. By now the couple had nearly reached the shore, neither panicking.
