The Icelandic Canadian - 01.06.1995, Síða 42

152
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
SPRING/SUMMER 1995
fall was still in the same place because I had
not dared to take it with me for valid rea-
sons, which I explained. I wrote the fourth
letter to my sister here in the abbey the day
after I came. In that letter I said I would
die here. And I asked my sister to see to it
that the person she sent west over the ocean
stop here on the way to Fort Garry and get
news of me from you, Brother Bernard, and
accept my diary and other writings which
you will keep safe. I asked young Godson
to look after the last two letters and you
were presentwhen I gave them to him. Now
I want to tell you, Brother Bernard, as
clearly I can, where the money is hidden
and I would ask you to write it down on
paper so that you can better explain it for
the person my sister sends west, in case he
did not fully understand what I explained
in my letter about it.”
“I think it would be much better,” said I,
after some thought, “that you write this
yourself in Icelandic while you are strong
enough to do it, and explain it as well as
you can. I shall keep the letter along with
your other things, until your nephew comes
here. Then I will give him everything and
tell him about your last wish. But I myself
want to know nothing about where the
treasure is hidden, except that it is buried
somewhere on the bank of the Red River
near the inn where you lived while you were
in Fort Garry, Canada. I do not wish to
know more accurately than this so that it
will cause me no anxiety and I will not be
led into temptation because of it.”
I told him this as kindly and gently as I
could, patting his hand as I said it. And in
fact, my own thoughts were that this story
was nothing but daydreams and delirium
and I wanted to avoid listening to a long
and boring explanation about where this
treasure was supposed to be hidden. But
now I am very sorry that I did not do what
he asked and write down, in French, all the
information he chose to give me about it.
For his mind may have been fully rational
when he told me about this and then, of
course, his story would be true in every
detail.
“Well and good,” he said, after gazing at
me for a moment. “It shall be as you wish. I
will write about it in Icelandic and describe
the place where the money is hidden.”
The next day, (April 9), he sat up in bed
all of an hour and a half and wrote at inter-
vals between periods of rest. They were the
last words he wrote. He handed me the pen
and ink and said he had had to stop in the
middle, but that he would finish it the next
day. One may say that he never raised his
head from the pillow after that. But he was
still able to speak, off and on, and could
talk to me a few minutes at a time.
On the tenth of April, Father Henri, the
abbot at that time, came to see him and
asked him to tell him the name of his ship
which had sunk in Hudson Bay, the cap-
tain’s name and how many of the crew had
survived. And he asked a great deal more.
Berg answered quickly and distinctly,
though he was very ill that day, and he said
that similar questions had been put to him
last fall by the Hudson Bay Co. representa-
tive at York Factory. Father Henri recorded
his answers in his journal and has certainly
sent a report to the authorities.
Mr. Berg did not even mention the treas-
ure while Father Henri was with us and
nothing about the letters he had written to
his sister in Iceland, nor did he say anything
about his friend, William Trent. But he
spoke of a man called Daniel Wilde, one
of the crew of the ship that sank. This man