Annie Proulx - Barkskins

“Yes, as far as the church. The fresh air will do us good and dissipate the fumes of rum.”

They stepped out of the Wolf’s Den into a blaze of stars so flagrant and shuddering the sky seemed to emit sounds like plucked wires.

“Cold!” said Piet.

“Very cold,” said George. “Very, very cold.” They breathed the tingling piney air. Yet there was the sense of an implacable, even malevolent, force bending the meteorite-streaked night.

Bernard Duke, fifty-five, had two great problems. His mind gnawed at them constantly. The first worry was his successor. There was no one in the family who could take on the crucial landlooker’s job of assessing the valuable timber on Duke & Sons’ vast acreages after he was gone. He himself had learned from Charles Duquet before the man’s unexplained disappearance, then from old Forgeron, but among the nephews he had found no one remotely interested in judging trees, estimating cubic volumes and board feet.

Nicolaus’s son Sedley had come out with him several times. But even explaining the difference between linear and piece measurements made Sedley’s eyes glaze, and working out the cubic volume of a tapering eighty-foot log was beyond him. When they were moving through an area of standing timber, Bernard making notes and calculations and then, moving to another plot, Sedley stumbled behind.

“Uncle, is it not possible just to hire a surveyor who can say whether or nay there are big trees worth cutting?”

“It’s a business,” said Bernard one noon after a repast of scorched stale bread and hot tea, sitting on a stump and lighting his pipe. “We need to know what timber we’ve got and what board feet it will make. Finding a good surveyor is difficult. It is arduous work, and inaccurate estimates and outright lies abound. Surveyors we have tried have sometimes submitted false maps and false reports to save themselves trouble. They have sworn that trees were sound, trees that proved rotten or with hollow centers.”

He sucked on the pipe, knocked out the dottle and refilled it. “It smokes hot,” he said. “I must get a new one.” He took a burning stick from their noon fire and lit the tobacco.

“Those surveyors accepted bribes from the Wentworths and others to wrongly value a stand of timber as sound. One time our cutters arrived with their axes and found a thousand stumps left by timber thieves. The stumps were grey with age; id est, the surveyor had never been there. Another sent a report of a thick-forested township — we were confronted with ashes.” He made a face, emptied his half-smoked pipe again and put it in his pocket.

Sedley, on an adjacent stump, waggled his feet, slapped at mosquitoes. He saw a fine tendril of smoke coiling up from the duff where Bernard had knocked out his pipe. The lecture continued.

“It takes an experienced man more than a week to determine the timber value of only five hundred acres. An honest surveyor is crucial to our business. A member of the family must take the responsibility. Otherwise, when I am gone you will be cheated.” But Sedley would not take this bait.

“Uncle, I fear we must make a great effort to find someone outside the family who will work for a good income and nurture him. My attraction is to the expansion of the business. I am interested in going obliquely beyond trees and lumber.”

“You consider potash the crown of the future?” His tone was disparaging, as though Sedley had announced an interest in growing lettuces. Bernard rose.

“Come. We can be back at the inn by nightfall if we ride at once.” Behind them the pipe dottle glowed in the pine duff, waxed and grew into a small licking fire. In Boston the next day Bernard saw the distant smoke and reckoned it was in Duke & Sons’ forestland; but fire could not be helped. Forests burned, according to God’s will. The end of summer was always smoky.

Bernard felt himself getting old; he had no time to lose. He would have to look outside the family for his surveyor. He would inquire of sawmill operators, the latter themselves no slouches at board foot estimations — once they had the logs before their eyes. Yet estimating the lumber in a standing tree was more difficult by far. There might be a bright lad or two out there who could be trained. If only he could find them.

As for the other problem, it was insoluble, it was all up to God. If he saw the problem approaching he could do something. But if he was dead he could not and fate would have its way.

• • •

In 1758 the French were losing their territories in Africa and America to England. It was a dangerous time to travel, but when was travel ever safe? The Duke party of six — Bernard, Nicolaus, Jan, Outger, Piet and George Pickering — would take passage on a new Dutch merchant frigate, Bladwesp, carrying Duke & Sons cargo (dike timbers) from Boston to Amsterdam. Bernard wished to stop at La Rochelle for business meetings, but because of the war it was out of the question; they would do well to slide up the coast of France without harm and go straight to Amsterdam. Sedley would remain in Boston as Eugenia, delivered of a son, was weak and sinking. Dr. Perry thought she could not last long. The child was strong — it was as though he had drained all of the mother’s vitality into himself. Eugenia whispered that they should name him James; Sedley promised, but already harbored a hatred against the murdering infant.

• • •

For Bernard it would be a quick trip. He planned to return after a month. The others could stay as long as they wished; indeed, George Pickering talked of a European tour — excluding France because of the war — which Jan and Bernard encouraged. But Nicolaus said no to Piet, who wished to join his cousin. George Pickering was well enough pleased to travel alone as he planned a private adventure in whoring and drinking and preferred not to have a witness, no matter how congenial. It was too bad to miss France, which he had always heard was the apogee of depravity.

“You, Piet, have the responsibility of the pitch plantation,” said Nicolaus. “You cannot attempt such a tour. I had thought we might send Henk Steen to oversee the plantation if you wished to travel for a few months, but he made a scene. He said he was unsuited for the responsibility. Apparently he has moral scruples on slavery. On my return I plan to replace Steen with a harder-headed man. He may take his moral scruples elsewhere.”

There was but one day until they sailed and still Outger had not arrived. It was unthinkable to sail without him — the voyage had been at his urging. Bernard talked with Captain Strik, a dour old Dutchman who disliked passengers no matter how well they paid. He was pleased when they died at sea and had to be pitched overboard. Now he said he would sail at the appointed time, Outger Duquet or no. He already had the passenger’s money and if that passenger chose not to arrive in a timely fashion, why then he could walk to Amsterdam. He wheezed out a laugh.

• • •

Piet and George Pickering hung over the rail keeping watch for the infamous uncle. Their patience was rewarded. Piet clattered down to Bernard’s quarters and found him writing in his red leather business book.

“Uncle! He is here. In a coach. Followed by three wagons of trunks and boxes.”

Bernard followed his nephew up on deck and saw Outger. He resembled Charles Duquet though he lacked his father’s muscle mass and shrunken jaw. Limp yellow hair stuck out from under his tie wig, but the pale eyes had the piercing Duquet focus. He was thin and very white, obviously one who lived indoors.

Outger ignored Bernard and rushed to the captain’s cabin, where he yammered and jawed for a quarter of an hour. When he came out again six sailors followed him off the ship to carry his boxes and trunks on board, stowing them in the extra quarters Outger had engaged. A fourth wagon holding a massive packing crate arrived at the dock. It took twelve sailors to move it up onto the deck, where it stayed, covered with a tarpaulin and lashed down. The sailors, laughing and biting Outger’s coins, returned to their duties. Outger examined Bernard, displeased at what he saw — a heavy, aging man, somewhat gimpy.