Free Beginning Again by Mary Beacock Fryer Page B

years must pass before we would have our own fruit.
    I stopped at the Mallory farm to rest the mare and allow the colt to suckle. Jeremiah and Elisha were at home with their parents, Mr. and Mrs. Enoch Mallory. During the summer and early autumn they had too much work on their own land to help us prepare logs. They offered me a meal, but I accepted only some cider since I had brought plenty of supplies. As I passed Billa La Rue's cabin, I did not see anyone round. I wondered again about the strange events of that moonlit night last autumn.
    Sam was working on a huge trunk with his axe when I arrived, and near the cabin Cade was keeping watch on the potash kettle, slung over a fire. I was mystified until he explained what he was doing.
    â€œWe collect ashes from burnt branches and put them into the wooden chest. See those holes at the bottom of the chest? Below them we set buckets, and then we pour water into the chest in top of the ashes and let it soak through them. What comes down into the buckets is called lye. We boil it down to make it more concentrated. Then we put it in barrels which the brigades pick up and take to the merchant in Montreal who buys it from us.”
    â€œI suppose I'm to take over from you, “said I, and I told him of Papa's order to take the bateau to Buell's Bay.
    â€œI'll be glad to go,” Cade told me. “My shoulder's bothering me again, and I've had to leave the heavy work to Sam. I think you should help him. I can finish this batch before I leave here,”
    â€œI expect you won't be able to do much in the shop,” I remarked. I hoped that Papa would not have many orders or he might send me back to carry on.
    â€œI'll be fine in the shop. I only use my good arm while handling the heavy hammer,” Cade explained. “For chopping and sawing I need both arms.”
    He set off the next day, with a new sail up in a southwest breeze. Sam had made the sail out of some old canvas he found on Grenadier Island. “I suppose it was left there during the revolution by some ship of the Provincial Marine,” he said.
    Right after Cade left, Sam lived up to his old reputation for laziness. He went off to a new clearing on the next farm lot to the west, which belonged to a family named Smith. I was left to chop by myself, and he did not reappear until nightfall. The next day, however, he stayed, working hard. He did not know at what time to expect the bateau, and if he were missing when Papa showed up he would be in deep trouble.
    I thought Uncle William's visit to our land would be the highlight of the autumn, but I turned out to be mistaken. We did give Mama and Uncle a fine reception. Uncle was suitably impressed with our trees and he did exclaim over the rustic cabin. He did admire the view of the islands, and he did not complain about sleeping in the bateau, his skin smeared with oily horse balm to ward off mosquitoes. And Sam did take him hunting and return with a fine buck deer. All these activities, delightful though they were, were overshadowed by the arrival, a fortnight after Uncle, of Captain Sherwood in his canoe. He had a special request to make of Papa.
    â€œMr. Seaman, my young cousin, Reuben Sherwood, has a raft ready to sail for Quebec. He's short-handed, and I think this is a fine opportunity for your sons to learn rafting before you take your own down the rapids.”
    Papa, leaned on his axe and wiped his forehead as he thought a bit. “We do have a lot going on, Captain Sherwood,” he began. “But I think you're right. I won't be sailing with such a green crew next year if some of my boys get experience now.”
    â€œGood,” the captain replied. “I'd like to leave with them at first light. Reuben's land is the west half of Lot Two, on the river a mile below Buell's Bay.”
    â€œSam and Ned may go,” Papa said, to my joy. “My eldest son's at Coleman's Corners and we don't have time to send for him.”
    I could