The Adventures of Radisson. Back to the New World by Martin Fournier Page A

surely in need of a helping hand. A dozen more barrels were waiting in the barge.
    â€œHello there!” Radisson shouted. “I can unload them for you, if you’d like!”
    â€œLeave me alone! I can manage. Young good-for-nothings like you aren’t in short supply round here.”
    â€œMy father is a merchant, sir. I’ve carried thousands of barrels before! I’m not afraid of a good day’s work.”
    â€œAre ye deaf?” the man exclaimed, with a threatening stare. “I told ye to leave me alone!”
    â€œIf you’re going back upriver, I can help. I can do anything: carry things around, sail, fish. I’d like to help you, sir, if you’re going towards Paris.”
    The boatman took a moment to look the bold young man up and down. The morning was a fresh one, but he was covered in sweat. He spat on the ground, then asked:
    â€œKnow how to pilot a boat, do you?”
    â€œYes. I’ve crossed the ocean, sir. I took the helm of a store ship from Amsterdam to La Rochelle. I’m a good sailor.”
    The boatman inspected Radisson. So he wanted to come aboard, did he? He seemed to be made of the right stuff. He looked strong and honest.
    â€œShow me what you can do, lad. Hop down onto the barge, take a barrel, and bring it back up here. But be careful! It’s good Vouvray wine I have in there. Break a barrel and I’ll break every bone in yer body! Now get to it!”
    Radisson ran down the slope, jumped onto the barge, tipped a barrel onto its side, rolled it along the gangway that came up from the barge, then pushed it quickly up the slope. With the boatman keeping a close eye on him, once on the wharf, he gave the barrel a shove just like the older man had done and put it beside the others. A nice, quick job. It reminded him of the days he had spent moving goods around with his father: brandy, boards, sacks of grain, scrap metal… anything that could be bought and sold in the neighbourhood.
    â€œI see you were telling no lies,” the boatman told him, satisfied. “Follow me.”
    They walked down together to the barge, where the big man gave him his orders.
    â€œBring in the sheet.”
    Radisson found the right rope and yanked on it.
    â€œWhere’s the halyard?”
    Radisson pointed to the rope used to hoist the sail.
    â€œTurn to the port side.”
    Radisson pushed the tiller to the right to turn the boat left, all the while keeping an eye on the top of the mast as though he were looking at the sails.
    â€œI could always take you on for a trial,” the man concluded, relieved to have found a helping hand. “So long as you bring all these barrels up to the wharf and you help me load the salt I have to bring to Orléans. But I’ll tell you one thing, lad. I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you. Any problems and you’re off my boat. I’m not in the habit of trusting strangers, but I’m in a bit of a fix. And don’t think you’ll be getting paid for any of this! I’ll feed you, that’s all. Count yourself lucky I’m bringing you with me.”

Chapter 3
This Way to Paris!
    J oachin Touchet knew the river like the back of his hand. He had been shipping goods between Nantes and Orléans for as long as he could remember, on an old barge he called
La Louve
. She had just one square sail to catch the wind from the aft or side, but never a headwind. When the wind was against them, he had to drop anchor and wait, which always put him in a foul temper. For that reason, he pushed on as fast as he could every time the wind was favourable. Radisson was happy to travel with someone as impatient as he was. He admired his experience. But he did not appreciate his foul temper.
    After four days on the river, they came within sight of Saumur, a prosperous, pretty village. They had to lower the mast to squeeze under a fine stone bridge on the way into town. A strong current working against