Chapter 3
Camp Double Six, Texada Island
Something was different this morning, Yells-at-Bears mused as she slowly woke up. Then she realized what was different; she did not hear the sound of rain striking the roof of the building. She dressed and stepped outside. Not only was it not raining, the sky was not even grey. And the colors of the fall foliage, the yellows, oranges and reds, seemed more intense than they had the day before.
It was, she thought, an excellent day for an outing. She walked to Marsh Berry Lake, to pick a few berries and see whether the chum salmon had started spawning.
She had done this before of course, but always in the company of one or more of the Japanese, especially Isamu, or the ex-slaves Dembei and Jusuke. But there had been no dangerous encounters, either with man or beast, on any of the past occasions, and she decided this time to go alone rather than wait for one of the Japanese to escort her.
Not seeing the salmon in the lake, she went farther afield, walking alongside Marsh Berry Creek as far as she could without having to slog through marshland.
Isamu was walking toward the lakes when he heard a commotion ahead of him. Not knowing who or what might be the source, he drew his katana.
Suddenly, Yells-at-Bears appeared, running hard.
“You found salmon?” he asked.
“I found Indians! On Marsh Berry Creek!” she shouted.
“How many?” demanded Isamu. “And did they see you?”
“Three. But there could have been others, out of sight.” She paused to catch her breath. “I don’t think they saw or heard me. I had wandered somewhat away from the stream, collecting mushrooms. I was sitting down, examining one closely to make sure it was of a kind that was safe to eat, when suddenly, some birds took flight, heading north. I thought they must have been startled by something to my south, so I hid and waited. And then I heard the Indians coming up the stream. They weren’t being stealthy, they were talking in the Tla’amin tongue about a woman one of them fancied.”
That was somewhat reassuring; Isamu recalled Yells-at-Bears had told Tokubei that the Tla’amin were not especially aggressive, but rather needed to defend themselves from raids by the Laich-kwil-tach and the Haida.
“Did you see them, or just hear them?”
“I heard them first, then I saw them briefly, through a gap in the foliage. They walked up and down the stream, trying to decide on a fishing spot. I made my escape while they were downstream.”
“Were they dressed for battle?”
“No. If they were here to fight, their faces would be painted black and their hair would be tied back.”
“Ah,” said Isamu. “So it couldn’t be grabbed by a foe. Come back to camp, we need to have a council.”
At Camp Double Six, he summoned Masaru, Fudenojo, Zensuke, Saichi, Dembei and Jusuke into the dining hall of the main building, and had Yells-at-Bears repeat her story.
“What weapons do the Tla’amin fight with?” asked Masaru.
“Clubs, daggers, spears, and bow and arrow,” said Yells-at-Bears. “Weapons of stone, not iron. A few warriors might wear elk hide armor, but otherwise they wear ordinary clothing.”
“What arms did the three you saw carry?”
“They had harpoons,” said Yells-at-Bears. “And bows. Probably daggers, too. Weapons for fishing and hunting, that is all.”
“We should go in force,” said Masaru. “All of us, fully armed. Isamu and I should wear our full armor, and bring our daikyu. Tell them to leave, or else.”
Yells-at-Bears frowned. “Excuse me, Deguchi-san, but that would be dangerous, in the long term. While this party is small, and we surely outnumber them, what if they go home and say we are a threat that must be dealt with? I do not know which Tla’amin band these Indians come from, but they might have hundreds of kinsmen living within a few days paddling of Sandy Bottom Bay. And soon, the families that lived apart during the summer will come together at the winter villages for matchmaking, feasting, dancing, storytelling, gift giving . . . and to plan raiding in the spring. Or even sooner, if they are angry about the actions of another band.”
“We did not impose our will upon the Ainu of Ezochi by being timid,” said Masaru. The Ainu were the aborigines who lived on Ezochi, the large island north of Honshu.
“Weren’t we ordered to avoid conflict with the Indians?” asked Fudenojo.
“I thought we were just ordered not to leave Texada and go looking for Yells-at-Bears’ people,” countered Masaru. “These Indians have come to us, and we cannot ignore them. Surely you don’t intend to cede control of Marsh Berry Lake and Creek to them, Isamu! We need the fish in those waters to feed ourselves over the winter.”
Isamu spread his hands. “All of you make good points,” he said diplomatically. “We will all go, but in two groups. The lead one will be small: myself, Yells-at-Bears, Jusuke, Fudenojo, and two more sailors who are good with firearms. I will have my two swords, but the rest will carry just short spears and half bows, which can be excused as hunting weapons.”
“What about guns?” asked Fudenojo.
“Yes, you and your sailors may take those. The Indians will not know what our firearms can do; they will think them some sort of tool. And the presence of a woman will help reassure them that we are peaceful, neh?
“Masaru will command the reserve. He may wear armor and bring his daikyu, if he wishes, and I will loan him the Dutch spyglass Tokubei gave me, so he can watch from afar. His men will carry muskets, bows, spears and short swords, as their fighting skills warrant. He will keep the reserve as far back as he can and still see what is going on.”
Masaru looked unhappy, but that was not uncommon. “I suppose that is acceptable. We can spread out in a crescent, so we can flank the Tla’amin.”
“That’s fine,” said Isamu, “but let me be quite clear. You are to stay back unless either we are attacked or I signal to you by putting my left hand on my rump.” He demonstrated. “If so, then advance to join us. Of course, if we are under attack, you will counter-attack.
“If I raise my left hand, you may advance, but only half way, and without drawing or raising weapons. My left hand, mind you, not my right.”
“Hai.”
“Fudenojo!”
“Yes, Oyamada-san?”
“Pick out a few trade goods. Nothing real fancy, we need to save those for tribal chiefs.”
“I will, sir, but can Yells-at-Bears help me, please? I know how much we have of each kind, and how much they are worth to us, but she would have a better idea of what they would be worth to another Indian.”
“Very well, so be it.”
“And will our group carry the trade goods, or will Masaru’s?”
“Each of our group may carry one small, light item of your choice, Fudenojo. The rest will be back with Masaru. Yells-at-Bears will divide them into batches of what she thinks the Tla’amin will consider to be of equal value.
“Masaru-san, if I scratch the back of my head with my left hand, it means send one man forward with one batch of trade goods.”
“I will watch you closely,” said Masaru.
When Isamu and his vanguard came into view, the three Tla’amin, who had been fishing in the creek, stopped what they were doing, and faced the Japanese. One whistled, and moments later Isamu could hear rustling in the bushes. It didn’t take a sage to guess that there were more Tla’amin, now watching them from cover, and probably with bows ready. And it made Isamu uneasy to realize that he didn’t know their number. Of course, they didn’t know about Masaru and the reserve. Or did they?
Isamu waited a moment to see whether the Tla’amin took any more aggressive action, but the hidden Indians stayed hidden, and the fishermen stood their ground.
At a gesture from Isamu, Fudenojo and the two sailors held back, while Isamu, Yells-at-Bears and Jusuke continued to come forward. They stopped, however, well out of arm’s—or spear’s—reach.
Isamu gently tapped Yells-at-Bears’ shoulder. It was her cue.
Yells-at-Bears raised both hands, showing that she was unarmed, and took a step forward. “I am Yells-at-Bears. I am the daughter of a chief of the Snuneymuxw,” she told them in their own language. She spoke slowly, because it had been years since she last spoke Tla’amin.
One of the Indians matched her movements. “And I am Fast-Drummer. From your choice of speech, you already know I am Tla’amin. But the people with you are strange to my eyes.” His own eyes were almond-shaped, surmounted by thick eyebrows.
“These people with me have great spirit power,” said Yells-at-Bears. “They came across the ocean that lies west of the lands of the Kwakwaka’wakw and the Nuu-chah-nulth. The canoe they came on was larger than even the war canoes of the Haida, and it had wings that captured the wind so it could fly across the ocean without being paddled.
“They came to the Great Island, and found me living there. I had no living husband, and when they asked for people that could guide them to the Inner Sea, and speak with the people who lived there, I stood up.”
That was a carefully edited version of the truth, since Yells-at-Bears had been living among the Gwat’sinux of the Great Island because she had been sold to them as a slave. She had no living husband because by tribal law, slaves could not marry. And she had been purchased by the Japanese, she didn’t volunteer to join them. To admit that she had been a slave would immediately have reduced her status in Fast-Drummer’s eyes and tainted the present negotiation.
“I would like to see this flying canoe,” said Fast-Drummer. “Is it nearby?”
“No, but it has left a band here, with this man as its leader, to explore this island. It will return soon.” She deliberately did not say when. “But if you know the Kalpilin Shishalh band, three of them saw the flying canoe in August. They can tell you about it, perhaps.”
“Ah, we are from Wide-River-Bed,” said Fast-Drummer. “We are two days paddling from Kalpilin.”
Isamu coughed.
“Excuse me, the people I am guiding do not understand Tla’amin,” said Yells-at-Bears. “I need to tell them what we have said so far.”
“What language do they speak?”
“They have their own language, unlike any you have heard before, but a few of them understand Kwak’wala.”
“I, too, speak Kwak’wala,” he said, “so let us use that language from now on and it will be easier for you.”
“I thank you,” she said, and in Japanese, with the former castaway Jusuke’s help, gave Isamu the gist of the conversation so far.
“Do you know where Wide-River-Bed is?” he asked.
“It is on the mainland coast,” she said, “near the northern tip of Texada.”
Isamu went back to consult Fudenojo, who had studied the up-time maps of British Columbia, and he said that this was most likely by the mouth of the Powell River.
Once the Japanese had plainly finished speaking, Fast-Drummer responded. “You are strangers from afar, and doubtless did not know better, but my grandfather’s grandfather found this creek, and all of our band recognize that his descendants have the right—the exclusive right—to make use of it. We fish for salmon, we hunt deer, and we collect berries. So it has been, moon after moon, year after year, for many years.
“What do you say to this?”
Isamu came forward and conferred in a whisper with Yells-at-Bears and Jusuke. Through them, he answered, “We are indeed from afar, and we indeed did not know of your past use of this stream.” He took care to say “use” not “right.”
“Your fishing left no ripples behind, your hunting left no footprints. There was no sign of your past presence, let alone of your claim. Among my people, there is no claim to land without leaving a marker for others to see.
“The other members of your band know of your claim, but do the other bands of the Tla’amin? Of the Shishalh? Of the K’omoks?
“Nor do you live near here. Did you not say that Wide-River-Bed is two days paddling from Kalpilin? Then your band’s winter home is at least as far from this place. But this is now our winter and summer home. Should not those who live nearby and year-round have the better claim then those who are occasional visitors?”
It was the Tla’amin’s turn to whisper among themselves.
Some distance away, Deguchi Masaru peered through the borrowed telescope. “He is taking a very long time to tell them to leave.”
“At home, it is impolite to state your business right away,” said Zensuke.
“Are the Indians’ hands close to their weapons?” asked Saichi.
“No. But their expressions are hostile.”
“May I look, Deguchi-san?” said Dembei. “I have lived among the Indians, you know.”
Masaru passed the scope to him. “Put one eye here,” he said, tapping the eyepiece, “and keep the other one open. If the view is blurry, make sure the telescope is fully extended and then slowly move the eyepiece section in or back out.”
“I can’t find them . . . wait . . . yes, there they are. Yes, they do look a bit angry.”
“If we advance to where they can see us, then perhaps we can transform their anger into fear. It might speed up the negotiation, neh?”
“Forgive me, Deguchi-san,” said Saichi, “but do we not have explicit orders to remain here unless there is actual fighting, or a signal from Oyamada-san?”
Masaru twitched. “I suppose. Yes, we will wait.”
As Isamu waited for Fast-Drummer to reply to his speech, he wondered what Masaru was thinking . . . or doing. . . . Would he follow orders? Or would he do something that would spook the Tla’amin and frustrate this negotiation, perhaps leading to trouble in the future?
And if Masaru did follow orders, Isamu hoped that it would be for the right reason—obedience to Isamu’s authority. As opposed to, say, the hope that the Tla’amin would kill Isamu, leaving Masaru in command.
Fast-Drummer cleared his throat. “If it is true that your people recognize rights only when you have marked the territory, like a dog or wolf, then where on this stream have you left your scent? We saw no sign of yours. So by your own words, and your own law, you have not established rights.
“And among my people, and the other peoples who live on the Inland Sea, rights are established by voicing them when the band gathers for the winter, and none challenging them. And to be sure the right is recognized, one would give a potlatch for one’s village, or even for several villages at once. And such is what my forefathers have done.”
Fast-Drummer crossed his arms, signaling the end of his speech.
“But we did leave a sign,” said Isamu. “Did you not come up this creek from the bay? Did you not see a stone pile, with a wooden cross on top like so?” He crossed his arms, one arm vertical, the other horizontal. “That was our marker, and by it we claimed the beach and the creek that flows through it.”
“That may be so, but our claim came first, and there are tens of tens in our village that can attest to this.” The implication, Isamu realized, was that there were hundreds that might fight to defend the Tla’amin claim.
Isamu asked, “Among your people, does a claim to a food gathering site last forever? Or can it expire, like smoke rising into the sky and disappearing?”
“If a site goes too long unused, another may claim it. But that is not the case here.” Fast-Drummer explained that the rights were owned by his clan, and this year was his family’s turn to use the stream, but in other years, other families of the same clan would come. And thus the clan maintained its right.
“And can a claim be traded from one to another?”
Fast-Drummer acknowledged that it could.
“We do not say you have no claim, but we say that we have a claim, too. Our village lies near the lake that gives birth to this stream, and this stream is the route by which we go down to the sea. So this stream is far more important to us than to you, who come from Wide-River-Bed. And we have marked our claim in accordance with our custom.
“We might be willing, however, to trade with you, so your claim no longer casts a shadow over ours.”
“Even if I wanted to I could not bargain away my clan’s claim. But you could bargain with me for the right to enjoy this stream for this year.”
The bargaining then began in earnest.
In deciding what trade goods to take on the Ieyasu Maru, Tokubei had considered both what the Dutch had told him about trade with natives in other parts of the world, and what the Japanese traded to the Ainu of Ezo. The Ainu were eager to obtain rice, sake, salt, tobacco, lacquerware bowls and cups, ironware, thread, cloth, dye, and used clothing. Under Lord Yoshihiro, the Matsumae had often traded swords and armor, but Lord Kinhiro had thought better of this, favoring iron needles, smoking pipes, pots, kettles, knives and hatchets.
“For the right to lake, stream and beach, we will give you this,” said Isamu. His party spread out a hemp blanket, the bulkiest item they carried. On it they laid out some polished wooden prayer beads, a red and black lacquer bowl, and some matching cups.
Fast-Drummer laughed. “They are pretty, but they are not enough for what you ask.”
They continued bargaining, but Fast-Drummer was resistant until Isamu slowly brought out an iron-bladed hatchet. Fast-Drummer gingerly felt the edge of the blade. While he tried to conceal his reaction, it was obvious to Yells-at-Bears that he was impressed by its sharpness.
She pointed to a snag nearby. “See for yourself; try chopping that!”
He did, and there were excited murmurings from his companions.
“Think about how much faster you can chop wood with this spirit-metal blade than with an ordinary stone blade. Or, think what a canoe maker, or even a chief, would give for it,” added Yells-at-Bears.
Fast-Drummer was plainly on the verge of agreement, but needed something more to clinch the deal.
“May I show you a special arrow?” asked Isamu.
Fast-Drummer nodded.
Isamu reached into his quiver and brought out a kabura-ya, a signal arrow. “When I shoot this, it makes a whistling sound. We use this—”
Yells-at-Bears motioned at him to stop speaking. “His people use it to chase away evil spirits and summon good spirits to come to their aid.”
Fast-Drummer exchanged glances with his companions and then declared. “Very well, we have a deal. You may use this stream until this time next year.”
“Excellent!” said Isamu. “And when our ‘Great Canoe’ returns, our chief can sail to Wide-River-Bed and tell all of your people of our claim, in accordance with your custom. And I am sure that he will give gifts of a kind you have never seen before.”
“I look forward to this meeting,” said Fast-Drummer. “But I warn you that I do not own the fishing rights to Clear-Sandy-Bottom, the bay that this stream leads down to. You fish there at your own risk.”
“Are there any other bays on this island?” asked Yells-at-Bears.
“There are,” said Fast-Drummer. “There is a large one in the north, nearer to Wide-River-Bed. And there may be others further south. But I doubt that there are any that are free of prior claims.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” said Isamu. Once the Ieyasu Maru returns, we’ll be able to negotiate for those fishing rights from a position of strength, he reflected.