Ghosts of James Bay Read Online Free
relaxed and a faint smile crossed his lips. âThank you. Thank you very much.â
On the way home Dad was talkative. I think he was trying out his theory on me. âThis is a pre-Hudson coin. Itâs unlikely in the extreme that it could have arrived in James Bay through trade. The only English presence was on the Newfoundland coast, and the trade routes didnât run from there to the bay. They ran from the St. Lawrence River north to James Bay. The French were at Quebec by then, but I doubt they would have English coins with them. And even if they did, they wouldnât trade gold with the First Nations. So this coin must have been brought to the area by an English explorer before Henry Hudson.â
âI guess so.â It seemed reasonable, but then I wasnât an expert. Unfortunately the experts werenât so easily convinced. Dad presented his find to his colleagues at the university as soon as he could. They shouted him down. The idea was too radical, and they were upset that he had gone to a commercial collector instead of the much slower academic route. Dad recognized his mistake.
âI should have taken more time, amassed more evidence to back up my claims. I rushed it too much. Now theyâre even more fixed in their thinking and Iâll never budge them regardless of how much evidence I find.â
It always amazed me how difficult it was to convince scientists of something new. I thought they were supposed to have open minds. Anyway, Dad got very depressed. It was just about this time that Mom announced she and I were moving out, so that didnât help. I think Dad had a pretty miserable winter, although he always made an effort to be happy when I was around. The situation wasnât helped when he learned that the archaeology department was cutting back on his fieldwork budget for the summer. Studying pre-Hudson trade routes suddenly wasnât a hot topic.
Dad wasnât one to give up, though, and that was why I was his only assistant back at the James Bay site the second summer. He had financed a lot of the trip himself and had been given some help from the local Cree, who were interested in his work as long as he didnât remove anything sacred or disturb any burials. This time we ignored the midden and spread our search more widely over the camp. Unfortunately we still didnât find muchâsome trade goods, but nothing as datable as the angel. The only European artifact was a bone button, but that could have come from anywhere at any time.
âItâs just a question of collecting as much evidence as possible to build as strong a case as I can,â Dad said the nightbefore my canoe trip. âAfter all, it took Charles Darwin decades to collect enough information to convince people of evolution and, even today, there are those who donât believe him. All I can do is keep searching.â
Dad had seemed depressed. I think he had been hoping for something as spectacular as the angel, but that sort of thing only happened once in a lifetime.
His mood had rubbed off on me and contributed to my sleepless night. In any case, I had felt I needed the morning canoe jaunt to blow away all my cobwebs.
I was thinking about all of this as I sat drifting that morning and watching the fog roll toward me. Little did I know that the answer Dad was searching for was in the fog.
The warrior sat by his small fire deep in thought. He was alone and less than a half dayâs travel from the strangers. His people were camped another dayâs travel to the south, but he would not go there yet. He had enough with him to trade with the strangers. In his hands he held the frozen water. It reflected the flickering flames of his campfire over which sizzled a small bird on a stick.
Obviously these newcomers needed his help. Their land must indeed be a wondrous place and very different from his land. They knew so little of here, not having small canoes to travel the rivers
On the way home Dad was talkative. I think he was trying out his theory on me. âThis is a pre-Hudson coin. Itâs unlikely in the extreme that it could have arrived in James Bay through trade. The only English presence was on the Newfoundland coast, and the trade routes didnât run from there to the bay. They ran from the St. Lawrence River north to James Bay. The French were at Quebec by then, but I doubt they would have English coins with them. And even if they did, they wouldnât trade gold with the First Nations. So this coin must have been brought to the area by an English explorer before Henry Hudson.â
âI guess so.â It seemed reasonable, but then I wasnât an expert. Unfortunately the experts werenât so easily convinced. Dad presented his find to his colleagues at the university as soon as he could. They shouted him down. The idea was too radical, and they were upset that he had gone to a commercial collector instead of the much slower academic route. Dad recognized his mistake.
âI should have taken more time, amassed more evidence to back up my claims. I rushed it too much. Now theyâre even more fixed in their thinking and Iâll never budge them regardless of how much evidence I find.â
It always amazed me how difficult it was to convince scientists of something new. I thought they were supposed to have open minds. Anyway, Dad got very depressed. It was just about this time that Mom announced she and I were moving out, so that didnât help. I think Dad had a pretty miserable winter, although he always made an effort to be happy when I was around. The situation wasnât helped when he learned that the archaeology department was cutting back on his fieldwork budget for the summer. Studying pre-Hudson trade routes suddenly wasnât a hot topic.
Dad wasnât one to give up, though, and that was why I was his only assistant back at the James Bay site the second summer. He had financed a lot of the trip himself and had been given some help from the local Cree, who were interested in his work as long as he didnât remove anything sacred or disturb any burials. This time we ignored the midden and spread our search more widely over the camp. Unfortunately we still didnât find muchâsome trade goods, but nothing as datable as the angel. The only European artifact was a bone button, but that could have come from anywhere at any time.
âItâs just a question of collecting as much evidence as possible to build as strong a case as I can,â Dad said the nightbefore my canoe trip. âAfter all, it took Charles Darwin decades to collect enough information to convince people of evolution and, even today, there are those who donât believe him. All I can do is keep searching.â
Dad had seemed depressed. I think he had been hoping for something as spectacular as the angel, but that sort of thing only happened once in a lifetime.
His mood had rubbed off on me and contributed to my sleepless night. In any case, I had felt I needed the morning canoe jaunt to blow away all my cobwebs.
I was thinking about all of this as I sat drifting that morning and watching the fog roll toward me. Little did I know that the answer Dad was searching for was in the fog.
The warrior sat by his small fire deep in thought. He was alone and less than a half dayâs travel from the strangers. His people were camped another dayâs travel to the south, but he would not go there yet. He had enough with him to trade with the strangers. In his hands he held the frozen water. It reflected the flickering flames of his campfire over which sizzled a small bird on a stick.
Obviously these newcomers needed his help. Their land must indeed be a wondrous place and very different from his land. They knew so little of here, not having small canoes to travel the rivers
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