A VOYAGE ON THE POND.
As the boat moved on, propelled by the paddles, which Forester and the
man who accompanied them were plying, Marco sat upon a thwart, and gazed
upon the picturesque and romantic scene around him. The shores of the
lake, or pond, formed many beautiful points and promontories, with deep
bays between them. There were a great many islands too, scattered over
its surface. Marco wanted to land upon some of these, but Forester
thought that they had better make the best of their way towards their
destined port.
Marco contented himself, therefore, with gazing on the changing scenery,
as they passed, in succession, one island and promontory after another.
The whole country was covered with forests, except that here and there
was an opening, with the house and barn of a settler in the middle of
it. Smokes were rising, too, in various directions, where new clearings
were in progress. There was one in particular, on the side of a distant
hill, which rose in such dense white volumes as especially to attract
Marco's attention.
When Marco had admired these objects long enough, he leaned a little
over the side of the boat, and began to look down into the water. The
water was not deep, and the bottom was smooth and sandy. They glided
rapidly along over these sands. Marco's leaning caused the boat to
incline a little to one side; but Forester, instead of asking him not to
lean over so, just moved himself a little in the contrary direction, and
thus restored the equilibrium.
"There, Forester," said Marco, suddenly raising himself, "I forgot one
thing."
"What is that?" said Forester.
"I forgot my piece of wood to make a box of."
"I am very sorry," said Forester. "But then you can get another piece,
perhaps, before we get to the end of our journey."
"But I wanted a piece from that very hut, so as to make the box a
souvenir of our having got lost in the woods," said Marco.
"Yes," rejoined Forester, "that would have been very pleasant,--but,
perhaps, we shall meet with some other odd adventure, which will be as
good as being lost in the woods."
"I don't think being lost in the woods is anything very good," said
Marco.
"It is not a very good thing at the time, but the recollection of such
adventures and dangers is always pleasant afterwards. You see you
specially want a souvenir of it.
"But, Marco," continued Forester, "I have thought of something which
will be, perhaps, better than a box. At any rate, it will be more
convenient to make."
"What is it?" said Marco.
"A little press for pressing flowers," replied Forester.
"How could I make it?" asked Marco.
"Have two pieces of pine wood, planed out thin," said Forester. "They
might be varnished, and that would make them look very neat and pretty."
"How large must they be?" asked Marco.
"Oh, about as large," replied Forester, "as the covers of a small book.
Just large enough to make it convenient to carry in the pocket. Then you
must have some pieces of soft paper, of the same size and shape, to put
between them. You must also have a piece of cord or braid, or something
of that kind, to tie around them, to keep them together. Then, when you
are travelling, if you find any pretty flower, you can put it into this
press, and put the press in your pocket. Thus, the press will not only
be a souvenir itself, but it will procure for you a great many other
souvenirs."
"That's an excellent plan," said Marco. "I like it very much. That will
be better than a box."
"It will be easier to make, at any rate," replied Forester. "Any joiner
can plane out and square the boards for you."
"Yes," said Marco. "I mean to get a piece of pine to make them of, the
first time I find any."
Marco had an opportunity to get a piece of pine suitable for this
purpose, and, at the same time, a souvenir itself of an adventure,
sooner than he anticipated; for, after having paddled many miles,
towards noon a breeze sprung up, which, though really not against them,
retarded them somewhat, as it tended to drive them out of their course.
Their intention had been to have stopped upon the water, about noon, to
eat their dinner; but, as this breeze would prevent the boat from
remaining at rest, they concluded to land upon an island, which was near
where they were at the time, and take their dinner there. Marco was
particularly pleased with this plan, as it would enable him to build a
fire, and he always wanted to build a fire on such occasions, whether
there was anything to be cooked by it or not.
The island was rocky, and it was covered with trees. On the sheltered
side of it there was a beach, where the party landed. Although this
beach was somewhat protected from the wind, still the waves which rolled
in kept the water in a state of agitation. They, however, landed here,
running the head of the boat upon the sand.
There was a large tree lying here, with its top in the water, and
butt-end upon the beach. It was a tree which some settler had cut down
at some place near the shore of the pond, and when the water was high it
had been washed off, and, after drifting about the pond for some time,
it had got lodged upon this beach, where it remained in the position in
which our adventurers found it. It had been lying there for more than a
year, and the branches which were out of the water were dead and dry.
The foliage had long since disappeared.
The boatman brought the boat up alongside of this tree, so that Forester
and Marco stepped out upon the trunk, and walked to the land. The
boatman then tied the boat to one of the dead branches of the tree, and,
taking the basket of provisions and the hatchet, they all walked along,
in search of a place for their dinner.
They found a sheltered and pleasant place, at a little distance, under
the trees. Marco soon struck a light, and began to build a fire. He
found it somewhat difficult, however, to procure dry wood enough for the
fire, until, at last, he thought of the branches of the tree to which
the boat was fastened. He accordingly went to the place and began to cut
them off.
The boat was somewhat in the way while he was doing this, and he thought
he would move it. He could fasten it just as well, he thought, by a
stake driven into the sand. He therefore cut off one of the branches,
and, after squaring one end and sharpening the other, he drove it down
as well as he could into the sand. He then fastened the boat to this
stake, thus removing it from the tree, and clearing the way so that he
could conveniently cut off the branches.
This was not, however, a very wise operation, for it is very difficult
to drive a stake securely into sand. Sand, even when wet, has so little
tenacity that it yields to the slightest force, and the stake soon began
to work loose, by the motion of the boat, agitated by the waves; and, in
fact, before Marco had finished carrying away the branches, the stake
was entirely loosened from its bed, and was just ready to topple over.
As the boat continued to pull upon it, this way and that, as it was
agitated by the fluctuation of the water, it soon drew it down, and the
boat, being now entirely at liberty, began to move slowly off from the
shore. It soon drifted out where it was more fully exposed to the action
of the wind, when it began to move much faster. And thus, while our
party of voyagers were eating their dinner, seated on a flat rock, by
the side of a good fire, in fancied security, their boat was quietly
drifting away, thus apparently cutting them off from all communication
with the main land.
Marco made the discovery that the boat was gone, just after finishing
his dinner, and he immediately gave the alarm. Forester and the boatman
came at once to the spot. They could just see the boat, half a mile
distant, under a ledge of rocks, which formed the shore in that place.
This was the third time, on this journey, that Marco had found himself
isolated in circumstances of difficulty and danger, and cut off,
apparently, from all convenient means of retreat; and, at first, he
thought that this was the worst and the most dangerous of the three. In
fact, he did not see in what possible way they could escape.
"What shall we do?" asked Forester.
"We must make a raft, somehow or other," said the boatman. "If I had a
log, I could go after the boat on that."
"Won't this tree answer for a log?" asked Marco.
The boatman looked at the tree. He said that, if he had an axe, he
thought he could cut off the top, and roll the trunk into the water; but
it would take him a long time, he said, to hack it off with the hatchet.
There seemed to be, however, no alternative; so he set himself at work,
and in due time he cut off the stem of the tree, just where it entered
the water. They all three then took levers, which the boatman made with
his hatchet, and, by making great exertion, they got the log out of the
sand, and rolled it round into the water, where it floated. The man then
cut a long pole, and, mounting upon the log, he pushed himself out over
the surface of the water.
Forester and Marco watched his progress with great interest. Marco
thought that he would certainly roll off the log, but he seemed to stand
and to walk upon it, perfectly at his ease. He would advance to the
forward end of the log, and then, planting the foot of his pole in the
sand on the bottom, he would push, walking along as the log advanced,
until he came to the stern end of the log, when he would draw out his
pole, and walk back again. In this way he propelled the log until the
water became too deep for his pole to reach the bottom, and then he
ceased these efforts, and, standing upright, he left himself to be
driven along slowly by the wind.
[Illustration]
Forester and Marco saw plainly that he would be gone for some time, and
they amused themselves, during his absence, in wandering about the
shores of the island. In one place, Marco found, upon a rock a little
above the water, a slab of pine wood, which was bleached by the sun and
rain. It had drifted down, the summer before, from some stream emptying
into the pond. In the winter it had been frozen into the ice, and, when
the ice broke up on the following spring, the cake to which the slab was
attached, had been crowded up upon the shore, where the slab had been
left when the ice melted.
Marco immediately thought that this slab would furnish him with a good
piece of wood to make a flower press of, and he accordingly dragged it
up where he could work upon it with his hatchet. He soon cut off a
piece, of the proper length, and hewed it down so as to make it of a
convenient shape to carry.
When Forester came to examine it, he said he thought it was a very good
piece, and when it was planed smooth and varnished, he thought, from its
appearance, that it would be of a very pretty color.
"You can get it made at the first shop we come to," said Forester, "and
then you can collect and preserve a great many flowers in it, when we
get to Canada. When you get home; you can put them in a book, and call
them the Canadian Flora."
"That's just what I'll do," said Marco, "and then, when I get home, I'll
give some of them to my cousins. They will like them, because they came
from Canada. But I can't put a great many into such a press."
"No," said Forester. "You only collect them in the press, which you
always carry with you in your pocket. You put them all in a book, or in
a larger press, as soon as you get home, and then you have the small
press ready for use again."
While they were talking thus, they watched the boatman, who had, by
this time, reached the land and recovered the boat. He came back quite
rapidly, propelling the boat with the paddle. Marco and Forester
embarked on board of her, and they finished their voyage without any
further adventure. The next day, they reached the Quebec road, and,
leaving the region of the Kennebec, they went on their way towards
Canada.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
A Table of Contents has been added for the reader's convenience.
Inconsistent hyphenation (mill-man/millman) and spelling
(bivouac/bivouack) have been regularized.