Coppermine Read Online Free PDF Page A

more than two years ago. Some Cree said they saw them well north of the treeline. They may even have got as far north as the Coppermine River, inside the Arctic Circle. Then recently a Métis trader showed up at Fort Norman with some of their belongings—some clothing, a rosary, a prayer book. Everyone believes the worst. Father Rouvière’s a good friend of Bishop Breynat, and Le Roux is a second cousin of the French ambassador in Ottawa, with a wealthy family in Paris. Anyway, our orders come from the Office of the Attorney General. They want all the resources of the police dispatched. Well, until I re-man Hay River, I don’t have much in the way of resources. I think the damn priests are probably just lost somewhere, unable to get letters out and so on. Svenson’s a good man for the job.”
    “I’d like to take it, sir.”
    “I think you should sleep on this, Corporal.”
    “What are the specific orders, sir?”
    “You go north as far as you can, possibly to the Coppermine River, find the priests, and bring ’em out.”
    “What if they don’t want to come out?”
    “Persuade them. Get at least one of ‘em back to Fort Norman, anyway, and telegraph their people and Ottawa will be happy. After that they can do whatever the hell they want.”
    “And if they’re dead, sir?”
    “Conduct the appropriate investigation. If foul play is suspected, make an appropriate arrest.”
    “Yes, sir. Does Cowperthwaite have all the area maps, post locations?”
    “This is the Coppermine, Creed. It’s never been charted. No police posts. No credible maps at all beyond the mouth of the Dease River or south of the Arctic Ocean coast, except a few sketches from Franklin.”
    “Franklin? The Franklin?”
    “Yes. An earlier expedition. The trapper Hornby operates along the southern edge, but he doesn’t go into the Coppermine. Other than that, Franklin was the last white man we know of to get that far. Except maybe the priests.”
    Worsley was gesturing again to the map behind him, pointing to the Mackenzie River delta near the border with Alaska. “See, the Mackenzie delta here has whales ... and Hudson Bay has furs ...” He indicated the huge bite out of central Canada named after the captain whose mutinous crew put him and his young son out to sea in an open boat to perish. “But the Coppermine”—he pointed to the 100,000 square miles of empty, uncharted space between—“has nothing. It’s a wasteland. Samuel Hearne spoke of copper deposits, but no one’s had the courage to go and find out. Probably the most isolated place left in all the Americas.”
    Superintendent Worsley turned away from the map. “There is one other element to this you should be aware of. It was in the orders from Ottawa. As empty and isolated as it is up there, it’s ours. Ottawa sees this as an opportunity to show the world a Canadian presence there, whether it’s a rescue or a burial.”
    “Understood.”
    “You’ll need to pick up a translator in Fort Norman, if you can find one.”
    “My Cree’s good and I have some Inuktitut.”
    “Copper Eskimo’s all different, they say.”
    “I prefer to travel alone.”
    “Take a translator, Creed. You don’t have time for language lessons.”
    Creed hesitated, then nodded. “All right.”
    “You’ll have to winter up there, of course, so take a year’s worth of provisions. Cowperthwaite’ll help you with all that. Any questions?”
    Creed’s heart beat a little faster. An honourable mission. Months of solitude.
    “No, sir.”
    “You’re sure, then?”
    “I’ll go.”
    “You don’t want to talk to Miss Harvey first?”
    “No, sir.”
    Worsley paused a moment to study him. “I’m sure you have your reasons, Creed, but you should think about spending more time in the city. With people. Maybe after this one.”
    “I’ll think about it, sir.”
    IT WAS AFTER DINNER and several officers of “D” Company were smoking in the mess. Corporal Dewey, his boots up on a table,