IT sometimes blows very hard on the St. Lawrence. It blew especially hard the morning the young canoeists returned to the banks of the great river from their excursion up the Jacques Cartier. As far as they could see the St. Lawrence was covered with white-caps. The wind blew directly up the river, and a heavy sea was breaking on the little island which lay opposite the mouth of the Jacques Cartier. Paddling against such a wind and sea would have been nearly impossible, and the boys resolved to wait until the wind should go down.
The day was a long one, for there was nothing to do but to watch the men at work in the saw-mill, and to look out on the river to see if the wind and sea had gone down. It continued to blow hard all day and all night, and when Harry awoke his comrades at five o’clock the next morning it was blowing as hard as ever.
Nobody wanted to spend another day at the saw-mill. Although the wind was blowing up the river the tide was ebbing, and would help the canoes to make some little progress, in spite of the wind and sea. So after a hurried breakfast the fleet got under way at six o’clock and gallantly breasted the waves.
The boys found that paddling against so strong a head-wind was harder than they had imagined that it could be. It was almost impossible to force the upper blade of the paddle through the air when trying to make a stroke, and it was only by turning the two paddle-blades at right angles to one another, so that the upper blade would present its edge to the wind, that this could be done. The seas were so large that the two canoes which were leading would often be entirely invisible to the other canoes, though they were but a few yards apart. The Twilight, as was her habit when driven against head-seas, threw spray all over herself, and the Dawn exhibited her old vice of trying to dive through the seas. The other canoes were dry enough, but they presented more resistance to the wind, and hence were harder to paddle.
Little was said during the first half-hour, for everybody was working too hard at the paddle to have any breath to spare for talking; but finally Harry, who was in the advance with Charley, slackened his stroke, and, hailing Joe and Tom, asked them how they were getting along.
“Wet as usual,” replied Joe. “The water is pretty near up to my waist in the canoe, and two waves out of three wash right over her. But I don’t care; I’ll paddle as long as anybody else will.”
“My canoe will float, unless the bladders burst,” said Tom, “but I’ll have to stop and bail out before long, or she’ll be so heavy that I can’t stir her.”
“Never mind,” cried Joe. “Look at the splendid time we’re making. We’ve come nearly a quarter of a mile, and that means that we’re paddling at the rate of half a mile an hour. At this rate we’ll get somewhere in the course of the summer.”
“There isn’t any use in tiring ourselves out for nothing,” exclaimed Harry. “Boys! we’ll make that sand-spit right ahead of us, and wait there till the wind goes down.”
“All right,” said Joe. “Only it’s a pity to go ashore when the tide is helping us along so beautifully. That is, the Commodore said it would help us, and of course he is right.”
“No reflections on the Commodore will be allowed,” cried Harry. “Bail out your canoes, you two fellows, and Charley and I will wait for you.”
Joe was very anxious to go ashore and rest, for he was nearly tired out; but he was not willing to let Harry know that he was tired. The two boys had been disputing while on the Jacques Cartier as to their respective strength, and Harry had boasted that he could endure twice as much fatigue as Joe. This was true enough, for Harry was older and much more muscular, but Joe was determined to paddle as long as he could swing his arms rather than to admit that he was the weaker.
The sandy spit where Harry proposed to rest was half a mile farther on, but before it was reached poor Joe managed to sprain the muscles of his left wrist. He was compelled to stop paddling except just hard enough to keep the Dawn’s head to the sea, and to call out to the Commodore that he must be allowed to go ashore at once.
Now, the north shore of the river, near which the canoes were paddling, was a rocky precipice, rising perpendicularly directly from the water, and at least two hundred feet high. To land on such a shore was, of course, impossible, and the sandy spit toward which the fleet was paddling was the only possible landing-place within sight, unless the canoes were to turn round and run back to the Jacques Cartier.
In this state of things Harry, after consulting with Charley and Tom, resolved to tow the Dawn. Her painter was made fast to the stern-post of the Sunshine, and Harry, bracing his feet and setting his teeth tight together, began the task of forcing two heavy canoes through the rough water. He found that he could make progress slowly, but Joe could not steer the Dawn except by paddling, and as he was able to do very little of that she kept yawing about in a most unpleasant way, which greatly added to Harry’s labor.
Suddenly, Joe had a happy thought: he set his “dandy” and hauled the sheet taut, so that the boom was parallel with the keel. The effect of this was that whenever the canoe’s head fell off the sail filled and brought her up again. Joe was relieved of the task of steering, and Harry was able to tow the Dawn much more easily than before.
The other canoeists followed Joe’s example, and, setting their “dandies,” greatly lessened their labor. The canoes kept their heads to the wind of their own accord, and everybody wondered why so obvious a method of fighting a head-wind had not sooner been thought of.
It was eight o’clock when the sandy spit was reached. The tide had been ebbing for some hours, and the sand was warm and dry, except near the edge of the water. The canoes were hauled some distance over the sand to a spot where there was a clump of bushes, and where it was reasonable to suppose that they would be perfectly safe even at high tide. A second breakfast was then cooked and eaten, after which the boys set out to explore their camping-ground.
It was simply a low sand-bank, about a hundred feet wide at widest part, and running out two or three hundred feet into the river. As has been said, the north bank of the river was a perpendicular precipice, but now that the tide was out there was a path at the foot of the precipice by means of which any one could walk from the sand-spit to a ravine a quarter of a mile away, and thus reach the meadows lying back of the precipice. This path was covered with water at high tide; but, as it was sure to be passable for three or four hours, Harry and Tom set out to procure provisions for the day.
The fleet was wind-bound all that day, for neither the wind nor the sea showed the slightest intention of going down. Harry and Tom returned after an hour’s absence, with bread, butter, eggs, milk, and strawberries, and with the cheerful information that, in the opinion of a gloomy farmer, the wind would continue to blow for at least two days more.
After resting and sleeping on the soft sand the boys began to find the time hang heavily on their hands. They overhauled their sails and rigging, putting them in complete order. Charley mended a pair of trousers belonging to Joe in a really artistic way; and Joe, with his left arm in a sling, played “mumble-te-peg” with Harry. Tom collected fire-wood, and, when he had got together more than enough to cook two or three meals, occupied himself by trying to roll a heavy log into a position near the canoes, where it could be used as a seat or a table.
The sand was strewn with logs, big and little, and Harry proposed that as many logs as possible should be got together, so that an enormous camp-fire could be started. It was a happy idea, for it gave the boys employment for the greater part of the day. It became a matter of pride with them to bring the biggest and heaviest of the logs up to the fireplace. Some of them could only be stirred with levers, and moved with the help of rollers cut from smaller logs. Whenever a particularly big log was successfully moved the boys were encouraged to attack a still bigger one. Thus they finally collected an amount of fire-wood sufficient to make a blaze bright enough to be seen a dozen miles at night.
When they were tired of rolling logs Tom went fishing, but caught nothing; while Charley cooked the dinner and watched the rising tide—half afraid that the water would reach the fire and put it out before he could get dinner ready. The tide rose so high that it came within two or three yards of the fire, and almost as near to the canoes, but it spared the dinner. When the tide was nearly full only a small part of the sand-spit was out of water, and the path along the foot of the precipice was completely covered, so that the waves broke directly against the rocks.
“It’s lucky for us that the tide doesn’t cover the whole of this place,” remarked Charley as he placed the dinner on a large log which served as a table, and beat a tattoo on the frying-pan as a signal to Tom to give up fishing and come to dinner. “I should hate to have to take to the canoes again in this wind.”
“It’s lucky that the tide will ebb again,” said Harry, “for we’re cut off from the shore as the tide is now, unless we could climb up the rocks, and I don’t believe we could.”
“It’s all right,” said Tom, putting his fishing-tackle in his canoe, “provided the tide doesn’t come up in the night and float the canoes off.”
“Oh, that can’t happen!” exclaimed Harry. “The tide’s turned already, and doesn’t reach the canoes.”
“I’m going to sleep on the sand,” remarked Joe. “It’s softer than the bottom of my canoe, and there isn’t any sign of rain.”
“You don’t catch me sleeping anywhere except in my canoe,” said Harry. “There isn’t any bed more comfortable than the Sunshine.”
“Can you turn over in her at night?” asked Joe.
“Well, yes; that is, if I do it very slow and easy.”
“The bottom-board is a nice soft piece of wood, isn’t it?” continued Joe.
“It’s pine-wood,” replied Harry, shortly. “Besides, I sleep on cushions.”
“And you like to lie stretched out perfectly straight, don’t you?”
“I like it well enough—much better than I like to see a young officer trying to chaff his Commodore,” returned Harry, trying to look very stern.
“Oh, I’m not trying to chaff anybody!” exclaimed Joe. “I was only wondering if your canoe was as comfortable as a coffin would be, and I believe it is—every bit as comfortable.”
When the time came for “turning in” Joe spread his water-proof blanket on the sand close by the side of his canoe. He had dragged her several yards away from the rest of the fleet, so as to be able to make his bed on the highest and driest part of the sand, and to shelter himself from the wind by lying in the lee of his boat. The other boys preferred to sleep in their canoes, which were placed side by side and close together. The blazing logs made the camp almost as light as if the sun were shining, and the boys lay awake a long while talking together, and hoping that the wind would die out before morning.
Joe, whose sprained wrist pained him a little, was the last to fall asleep. While he had expressed no fears about the tide (for he did not wish to be thought nervous), he was a little uneasy about it. He had noticed that when the tide rose during the day it would have completely covered the sand-spit had it risen only a few inches higher. Long after his comrades had fallen asleep it occurred to Joe that it would have been a wise precaution to make the canoes fast to the bushes, so that they could not be carried away; but he did not venture to wake the boys merely in order to give them advice which they probably would not accept. So he kept silent, and toward ten o’clock fell asleep.
In the course of the night he began to dream. He thought that he was a member of an expedition trying to reach the North Pole in canoes, and that he was sleeping on the ice. He felt that his feet and back were slowly freezing, and that a polar-bear was nudging him in the ribs occasionally, to see if he was alive and ready to be eaten. This was such an uncomfortable situation that Joe woke up, and for a few moments could not understand where he was.
The wind had gone down, the stars had come out, and the tide had come up. Joe was lying in a shallow pool of water, and his canoe, which was almost afloat, was gently rubbing against him. He sprung up and called to his companions. There was no answer. The fire was out, but by the starlight Joe could see that the whole sand-spit was covered with water, and that neither the other boys nor their canoes were in sight. The tide was still rising, and Joe’s canoe was beginning to float away, when he seized her, threw his blankets into her, and, stepping aboard, sat down, and was gently floated away.
