The Cruise of the Canoe Club by W. L. Alden - HTML preview

CHAPTER XII.

JOE was alone on the St. Lawrence in the middle of the night, and with a sprained wrist, which nearly disabled him so far as paddling was concerned. Worse than this, his comrades had disappeared, and there could not be the slightest doubt that their canoes had floated away with them while they were sound asleep. What chance had he of finding them? How could he get ashore, with his sprained wrist; and what probability was there that the three boys thus carried away in their sleep would escape from their dangerous situation without any serious accident?

As these questions presented themselves to Joe his first impulse was to admit that he was completely disheartened and to burst into tears. He was, however, far too manly to yield to it, and he immediately began to think what was the best thing that he could do in the circumstances.

The water was perfectly smooth, so that there was really no danger that the runaway canoes would capsize, unless their owners should start up in a fright and not fully understand that their canoes were no longer on solid land. Neither was there much chance that they would be run down by steamboats, for the steamboat channel was near the south shore of the river, a long distance from the sand-spit. Joe remembered how fast the tide had risen the day before, and he calculated that the missing canoes must have been afloat about half an hour before the water reached the place where he was sleeping. They would naturally drift in the same direction in which the Dawn was drifting; and all that it would be necessary for Joe to do in order to overtake them would be to increase the speed at which his canoe was moving.

There was a scarcely perceptible breeze blowing from the south. Joe got up his main-mast and set his sail. Light as the breeze was, the canoe felt it, and began to move through the water. Joe steered by the stars, and kept the Dawn as nearly as possible on the course which he supposed the other canoes had taken. He had no lantern with him, and could see but a little distance ahead in the dark, but he shouted every few moments, partly in order to attract the attention of the missing canoeists, and partly in order to warn any other boat that might be in the neighborhood not to run him down.

After sailing in this way for at least an hour, and hearing no sound whatever but his own voice and the creaking of the canoe’s spars, Joe was startled at perceiving a black object just ahead of him. He avoided it with a vigorous movement of his paddle, and as he drifted close to it with the wind shaken out of his sail he saw to his great delight that it was a canoe.

It was the Sunshine, with her canoe-tent rigged over her, and her commander sound asleep. Taking hold of her gunwale, Joe drew the two canoes together and put his hand gently on Harry’s forehead. Harry instantly awoke, and hearing Joe begging him as he valued his life to lie perfectly still, took the latter’s advice, and asked, with some alarm, what was the matter. When he learned that he was adrift on the river he sat up, took down his tent, and getting out his paddle joined in the search for Tom and Charley.

“They must be close by,” said Harry, “for all three canoes must have floated away at the same time. Tom and Charley sleep sounder than I do, and if I didn’t wake up it’s pretty certain that they didn’t.”

Presently Charley’s canoe was overtaken. Charley had been awakened by the sound of Harry’s paddle and the loud tone in which Harry and Joe were talking. He was sitting up when the Dawn and the Sunshine overtook him; and having comprehended the situation in which he found himself on awaking, he was making ready to paddle ashore.

There was now only one canoe missing—the Twilight. Harry, Joe, and Charley took turns in shouting at the top of their lungs for Tom, but they could obtain no answer except the echo from the cliffs of the north shore. They paddled up the river until they were certain that they had gone farther than Tom could possibly have drifted, and then turned and paddled down stream, shouting at intervals, and growing more and more alarmed at finding no trace of the lost canoe.

“She can’t have sunk, that’s one comfort,” exclaimed Harry, “for the bladders that Tom put in her at Chambly would keep her afloat, even if he did manage to capsize her in the dark.”

“He took the bladders out yesterday morning and left them on the sand just in the lee of his canoe,” said Charley. “Don’t you remember that he sponged her out after we landed, and that he said that he wouldn’t put his things back into her until we were ready to start?”

“I remember it now,” replied Harry. “And I remember that I did the same thing. There’s nothing in my canoe now except my water-proof bag and my blankets. But they’re not of much consequence compared with Tom. Boys, do you really think he’s drowned?”

“Of course he isn’t,” cried Joe. “We’ll find him in a few minutes. He must be somewhere near by, and he’s sleeping so sound that he don’t hear us. You know how hard it is to wake him up.”

“Tom is a first-rate swimmer, and if he has spilt himself out of his canoe and she has sunk, he has swum ashore,” said Charley. “My opinion is that we had better stay just where we are until daylight, and then look for him along the shore. He’s worth a dozen drowned fellows, wherever he is.”

Charley’s advice was taken, and the boys waited for daylight as patiently as they could. Daylight—or rather dawn—came in the course of an hour, but not a glimpse of the missing canoe did it afford. The tide had already changed, and the top of the treacherous sand-spit was once more above water, and not very far distant from the canoes. As soon as it was certain that nothing could be seen of Tom on the water his alarmed comrades paddled toward the north shore, hoping that they might find him, and possibly his canoe, somewhere at the foot of the rocks.

They were again unsuccessful. While Joe sailed up and down along the shore, the two other boys paddled close to the rocks, and searched every foot of space where it would have been possible for a canoe to land, or a canoeist to keep a footing above the water. They had searched the shore for a full mile above the sand-spit and had paddled back nearly half the way, when they were suddenly hailed, and looking up, saw Tom standing on a ledge of rock ten feet above the water.

“Are you fellows going to leave me here all day?” demanded Tom. “I began to think you were all drowned, and that I’d have to starve to death up here.”

“HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU GET UP THERE?”

“How in the world did you get up there?” “Where were you when we came by here half an hour ago?” “Where’s your canoe?” “Are you all right?” These and a dozen other questions were hurled at Tom by his excited and overjoyed friends.

“I was asleep until a few minutes ago,” replied Tom. “I got up here when the tide was high, and I had hard work to do it, too.”

“What’s become of your canoe? Is she lost?” asked Harry.

“She’s somewhere at the bottom of the river. I tried to turn over in her in the night, thinking she was on the sand-spit, but she turned over with me, and sunk before I could make out what had happened.”

“And then you swum ashore?”

“Yes. I saw the north-star, and knew that if I could swim long enough I could find the shore. When I struck these rocks I was disappointed, for I couldn’t find a place where I could land until I got my hands on this ledge and drew myself up.”

“Unless Tom wants to stay where he is we’d better invent some way of taking him with us,” remarked Joe.

“He’ll have to get into my canoe,” said Harry.

“How deep is the water where you are?” asked Tom.

“It’s anywhere from six feet to sixty. I can’t touch bottom with the paddle, so it’s certain to be more than seven feet deep.”

“Then, if you’ll please to give me room, I’ll jump, and somebody can pick me up.”

Tom jumped into the water, and had little trouble in climbing into Harry’s canoe—the water being perfectly quiet. The fleet then paddled back to the sand-spit, where they landed and breakfasted, while Tom dried his clothes by the fire.

Every member of the expedition except Joe had lost something, and poor Tom had lost his canoe and everything except the clothes which he was wearing. As long as the water continued to be smooth Tom could be carried in either Harry’s or Charley’s canoe, but in case the wind and sea should rise it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to keep the canoe right side up with two persons in her. Quebec was still at least twenty-five miles distant, and it would take nearly a whole day of very hard work to paddle a heavy canoe, with two boys in her, only one of whom was furnished with a paddle, twenty-five miles, even in the most favorable circumstances. Moreover, Joe’s sprained wrist made it impossible for him to paddle, and the wind was so light that sailing to Quebec was out of the question.

It was therefore decided that Harry should take Joe in the Sunshine back to the Jacques Cartier, and leaving him to walk to the nearest railway-station, should return to the sand-spit and join Tom and Charley in paddling down to Quebec, Tom taking Joe’s canoe. Although the boys had originally intended to end their cruise at Quebec, they had become so fond of canoeing that they would gladly have gone on to the Saguenay River and, if possible, to Lake St. John; but now that Tom was without a canoe no one thought of prolonging the cruise.

Quebec was reached by the fleet several hours after Joe had arrived there by the train. He was at the landing-place to meet his comrades, and had already made a bargain with a canal-boatman to carry the canoes all the way to New York for five dollars each. As the Sunshine was fitted with hatches which fastened with a lock, and as it would be necessary for the Custom-house officer at Rouse’s Point to search her, Harry wrote to the Custom-house at that place, giving directions how to open the lock. It was a padlock without a key, one of the so-called letter-locks which can be opened by placing the letters in such a position that they spell some particular word. Harry had provided the canoe with this lock expressly in order to avoid trouble at Custom-houses, and in this instance the plan proved completely successful, for the officer at Rouse’s Point was able to unlock the canoe and to lock it up again without a key.

The boys spent a night and a day at Quebec, and, after seeing their canoes safely started, they took the train for New York. As they talked over their cruise on the way home they agreed that canoeing was far more delightful than any other way of cruising, and that they would go on a canoe cruise every summer.

“As soon as I can afford it I shall get a new canoe,” said Tom.

“Will you get a ‘Rice Laker?’” asked Harry.

“Of course I will. My canoe was much the best boat in the fleet, and I shall get another exactly like her.”

“There’s no doubt that you are a genuine canoeist, Tom,” said Charley. “You’ve had lots of trouble with your canoe because she had no deck, and at last she sunk and nearly drowned you, because she had no water-tight compartments; but for all that you really think that she was the best canoe ever built. Is everybody else convinced that his own canoe is the best in the world?”

“I am,” cried Joe.

“And I am,” cried Harry.

“So am I,” added Charley; “and as this proves that we are all thorough canoeists, we will join the American Canoe Association at once, and cruise under its flag next summer.”

THE END.