Belle of Batoche by Jacqueline Guest

the horizon. It was late! She hadn’t meant to stay so long. It must be after eight o’clock, way past breakfast, and her mother must know by now that she had slipped out. How was she going to explain?
    Belle stopped, listening intently as an unfamiliar sound drifted to her on the early morning breeze.
    Gunfire!
    Batoche was under attack!

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Attack on Batoche!
    Belle’s breath caught in her chest. She looked across the river to the south. There, far in the distance, columns of mounted men and foot soldiers moved toward Batoche. It was happening, just as everyone had feared. Batoche was under attack!
    But those soldiers were still far away and the gunfire she’d heard was close by. Where was it coming from? As she broke through the willows at the river’s edge, she saw it.
    A massive steamboat with
Northcote
painted on its prow was heading toward Batoche. The large boat’s two decks were fortified to protect the soldiers who were firing at the Metis on the riverbank. Blackclouds billowed from its twin smokestacks as it churned up the river.
    The Metis fired at the floating fortress. Puffs of smoke rose from the bushes along the shoreline where the defenders were hidden.
    Ducking back into the willows, Belle waited until the boat passed, then with shaking hands she pushed her canoe into the water. She must get across the river before the soldiers on the boat spotted her.
    The sound of gunfire from the big boat was louder as it came to her over the water. Her mother would be frantic with worry!
    The shortest distance was to paddle straight across the river, but when she pointed her canoe at the opposite shore, the current’s pull grew much stronger. She focused on paddling, fighting the current with every stroke. She felt rather than saw the canoe tipping. Water splashed over the edge and soaked her dress and the beautiful embroidered bag.
    Belle tried to steady her craft. If it were swamped now, she would be an easy target as she struggled to get to shore. She angledthe bow slightly, which would take her dangerously close to the stern of the steamboat, but made it easier to control the canoe.
    A sudden shriek of tearing metal and yelling from the big boat made her look up. She couldn’t believe her eyes.
    As the
Northcote
moved upstream, the Metis had lowered the cable that pulled the ferry across the river. The cable had sheared off the twin smokestacks, which had fallen to the deck below. Smoke billowed out of the stricken boat as men ran here and there.
    Without the smokestacks, the engines had no power, and the big boat listed and turned out of control as the current tore at the hull, pushing it back downstream.
    Belle gasped. The huge boat was heading straight for her!
    She paddled frantically as the
Northcote
loomed over her. Pointing the canoe directly across the path of the steamboat, Belle pulled on the paddle with all her might.
    Her back ached with the strain. The disabled steamboat drew closer and closer, pushed by the force of the river on its broadhull. With less than a paddle’s length separating them, Belle propelled the canoe forward and out of the path of the lumbering giant.
    A stray bullet whizzed past her as she reached the shore. She leapt out of the canoe and ran for the cover of the bushes. The shooting was fierce. She had to work her way down the riverbank away from the fighting.
    Taking care to keep under the cover of the dense willows, Belle scrambled through the brush, branches tearing at her face and hair. Fear drove her on. Her friends and family were back there fighting, or hurt, or worse.
    Belle forced her mind to go blank.
    She worked her way south along the river- bank and started to make a wide circle back to Batoche. The column of soldiers was much closer now, and Belle decided to let them pass by before she made her break.
    She was astonished at how many men there were. Hundreds and hundreds of soldiers were coming to fight the Metis.Through the dust