BEFORE THE WIND
Soon after the island melted into the gloom, a flash of lightning leaped
from the cloud and spread like a sheet of blue flame across the water.
For a second, Agatha saw black rocks and trees stand out against an
overwhelming glare, and then they vanished and she saw nothing at all.
Lightning is common in Canada, but this had a terrifying brilliance
unlike any that she had known. While her dazzled eyes recovered from the
shock she was deafened by a crash that rolled among the cloud-banks in
tremendous echoes, and before it died away another blaze leaped down. It
was rather a continuous stream of light than a flash, because it did not
break off but, beginning overhead, ran far across the lake. The next
enveloped the canoes in an awful light and she felt her hair crackle
before the thunder came.
She was too entranced to feel afraid, and glanced at Thirlwell with
half-closed eyes. His face was set and his mouth shut tight, but he was
paddling hard and she heard the others' labored breath as they kept time
with him. The reason for their haste, however, was not plain; the storm
was terribly violent, but they would be no safer in the woods than on
the lake. Yet it was obvious that they wanted to reach land.
After a stunning crash, the thunder began to roll away, the lightning
glimmered fitfully farther off, and a torrent of rain broke upon the
canoes. Agatha was wet before she could put on her slicker, and when she
sat, huddled together, with head bent to shield her face from the
deluge, she could not see fifty yards in front. The water was pitted by
the rain, which rebounded from its surface with angry splashes. It ran
down the half-breeds' faces and soaked their gray shirts, but they did
not stop paddling to put on their coats. Agatha wondered with some
uneasiness what they thought was going to happen.
The rain got lighter suddenly and a cold draught touched her forehead.
She saw Thirlwell glance astern, although he did not miss a stroke. His
soaked hat drooped about his head and his thin overalls were dripping;
she thought he saw she was looking at him, but he did not speak. Then
the haze that had shut them in rolled back and a dark line advanced
across the lake. It had a white edge and there was a curious humming,
rippling noise that got louder. Thirlwell signed to one of the _Metis_,
who stepped a mast in the hole through a beam and loosed a small sail.
The sail blew out like a flag, snapping violently, and the man struggled
hard to push up the pole that extended its peak. Then he hauled the
sheet, and the canoe swayed down until her curving gunwale was in the
water. The half-breed moved to the other side and Thirlwell beckoned
Agatha.
"Come aft by me!"
She obeyed, although it was difficult to crawl over the cargo in the
bottom of the sharply slanted craft. The humming noise had changed to a
shriek, but it did not drown the turmoil of the water. Short waves with
black furrows between them rolled up astern and although they were not
high they looked angry. Agatha saw that Thirlwell wanted to trim the
canoe. He held a long paddle with the handle jambed against the pointed
stern, and the canoe's side rose out of the water as she paid off before
the wind.
"We could do nothing with the paddles," he said. "A sail's no use in a
river-canoe, but these heavy freighters run pretty well. Luckily it's a
fair wind to the river mouth."
Agatha could scarcely hear him, but when she asked how far it was he
nodded as if he understood.
"Three or four miles! Not much sweep for the wind, but it will raise a
nasty sea before we get there."
Gazing at the driving clouds that blotted out the forest, she tried to
ask if he could find the river, but just then the canoe rolled and the
little spritsail swelled like a balloon. There was a hiss and a splash,
and the top of a wave that split at the stern and rolled forward poured
in at the waist. Thirlwell bent over the paddle and slackened the sheet,
the canoe swung her bows out, and leaped ahead. Spray blew about in
showers; the foam stood in a ridge amidships and boiled high about the
stern. It seemed to Agatha that they were traveling like a toboggan, and
she had an exhilarating sense of speed that banished the thought of
danger.
"How fast are we going?" she shouted.
"I don't know. Five miles an hour, perhaps!"
It sounded ridiculous; Agatha had felt as if they were flying. Then she
saw that skill was needed to keep the canoe before the wind and
Thirlwell ran two risks. If he let the craft fall off too far, the sail
would swing across and she might be capsized by the shock; if he let
her swerve to windward, the following wave would break on board and she
would be swamped. Thirlwell looked highly strung but very cool. A
mistake would have disastrous consequences; if he gave way to the strain
for a moment, the canoe would sink. But she knew he would not give way,
and it was comforting to see that the half-breed shared her confidence.
He was, no doubt, a _voyageur_ from his boyhood, but it was plain that
he did not want to take the steering paddle.
Sometimes, when a savage gust screamed about them and whipped up the
spray in clouds, Thirlwell let the sheet run round a pin; sometimes he
sank the paddle deep and she saw its handle bend and the blood flush his
face. Drops of sweat ran down his forehead, but his glance was fixed and
calm. The strain on brain and muscle braced without exciting him; he
seemed to accept it as something to which he was used. He could be
trusted in an emergency, and for some obscure reason she was glad to
feel he was the man she had thought.
Then she watched the other canoe, which had dropped astern. The _Metis_
had set their sail, but she was not running well. She swerved when she
lifted with the waves and rolled until it looked as if she would
capsize. Now and then a sea broke over the gunwale and a crouching
half-breed desperately threw out the water. Another sat on a beam in the
high stern and his pose was strangely tense. But for all Agatha's trust
in Thirlwell, it was daunting to watch the laboring craft and the seas
that threatened to swamp her. They looked worse when one saw their
hollow fronts and raging crests, and Agatha fixed her eyes ahead.
The haze was thinning and now and then the blurred outline of trees
broke through; but one belt of forest looked like another and she
speculated with some uneasiness about the chance of Thirlwell's finding
the river. If he did not find it, they would run some risk, because the
men could not paddle to windward and the canoes might be smashed on a
steep, rocky beach. They ran on, and sometimes the trees got plainer and
sometimes vanished, but at length, when a savage gust rolled the haze
away, Agatha saw an unbroken line of rocks and foam. It looked very
forbidding and she wondered what Thirlwell would do.
"Sit as far as you can to windward," he shouted, and while she awkwardly
obeyed the half-breed got up on the side of the canoe.
Agatha understood what this meant. Thirlwell had missed the river mouth
and meant to skirt the coast, but when he tried to do so the wind would
be abeam and its power to heel the canoe largely increased. So far, they
had run before the gale, but to bring the craft's side to it was a
different thing.
She set her lips as she watched Thirlwell haul the spritsail sheet. He
was cautious and for a few moments brought the craft's head up with the
paddle and kept the small sail fluttering. Then he let her go and she
lurched down until her side amidships was in the water. To Agatha's
surprise, not much came on board; it looked as if they were going too
fast and the lee bow was the dangerous spot. In the plunges, the waves
boiled up there, and one could feel the canoe tremble as she lurched
over the tumbling foam. Then Agatha noted that Thirlwell was not
steering with the gale quite abeam; he was edging the craft to windward
as far as he could, but the beach got nearer and it was plain that they
were drifting sideways while they forged ahead. Agatha began to doubt if
he could keep them off the rocks.
He did not look disturbed. His glance was fixed to windward and his
movements were strangely quick. Agatha saw that he kept the canoe from
capsizing by the skilful use of paddle and sheet. When the craft could
not stand the pressure he let the sail blow slack, and then hauled the
sheet again, dipping his paddle to help her over a breaking wave. Sound
judgment was plainly needed and the man must instantly carry out the
decision he made. Handling a canoe in a breaking sea demanded higher
qualities than Agatha had thought. She was getting anxious, for the
rocks were nearer and one could see the angry surges sweep in tongues of
foam far up their sides. It was surprising that such a sea could rise on
a small lake. She could swim, but not much, and shrank from crawling
out, half-drowned and draggled, from the surf; for one thing, Thirlwell
would see her. She admitted that this was illogical and she ran worse
risks, but it troubled her. A few moments afterwards, Thirlwell changed
his course with a thrust of the paddle and slacked the sheet.
"All right now!" he shouted. "We'll find smooth water in a hundred
yards."
A steep rock, washed by spouting foam, detached itself from the others
and a narrow channel opened up between it and the beach. Agatha thought
it looked horribly dangerous, but Thirlwell headed for the gap. They
lurched through on the top of a curling wave, and she saw the mouth of
the river behind the rock. The current rose in crested ridges where it
met the wind, but the ridges were smaller than the waves on the lake and
gradually sank to splashing ripples as the canoe ran up stream between
dark walls of forest. The trees did not cut off the wind, which followed
the channel, and by and by Thirlwell looked at Agatha.
"We have made a good run, but it isn't often one gets a fair wind like
this, and poling against the stream is slow work. Still we'll stop and
pitch camp when you like."
"Shall we save a day for our prospecting if we go on until dark?"
"Yes," said Thirlwell, "we'll certainly gain a day."
Agatha was cold and wet and cramped. She longed to stop, but it was
important to save time and she wanted Thirlwell to see that she had
pluck.
"Then go on as far as you can," she replied.
She had half expected the _Metis_ to grumble, but they did not. It
looked as if Thirlwell had carefully chosen his men, and she found out
later that no fatigue she could bear troubled them. After a time, the
wind dropped as they ran round a bend, and getting close to the high
bank, they began to pole. At dusk they ran the canoe aground on a
sheltered beach, and Agatha landed, feeling very tired and cold. When
supper was over and they sat by the fire she did not want to talk, and,
going to her tent, soon fell asleep.
Next day they poled against the current and paddled, in bright sunshine,
across a lake. At noon they camped among short junipers, and the next
morning carried the empty canoes, upside down, across a rocky point. It
cost twelve hours' labor, relaying the loads, to make the portage, and
then they launched upon another lake. After two more days they left the
canoes, covered with fir-branches, on a beach, and pushed inland. A
narrow trail led them across a high divide, seamed by deep gullies,
where stunted pines and juniper grew among the rocks, and they portaged
the loads by stages, carrying part for an hour or two, and then going
back. Agatha was surprised to see how much a man could carry with the
help of properly adjusted straps.
When the divide was crossed they found two canoes by the bank of a small
creek, down which they drifted with the swift current. Then there was a
chain of lakes, veiled in mist and rain, and after making a portage they
reached a wider stream. They followed it down through tangled woods and
when they camped late one evening, Agatha sat silent by the fire, trying
to retrace their journey and speculating about what lay ahead. For the
most part, her memory was blurred, and hazy pictures floated through her
mind of lonely camps among the boulders and small pine-trunks, of
breathless men dragging the canoes up angry rapids, and carrying heavy
loads across slippery rocks. Their track across the wilderness was
marked by little heaps of ashes and white chips scattered about fallen
trees.
But some of the memories were sharp; there was the evening she found
Thirlwell carrying her belongings a double stage in order that she might
have all she needed when they camped. He panted as he leaned against a
tree and his face and hair were wet; she felt moved but angry that he
had exhausted himself for her. She did not want him to think she knew
what her comfort cost and was willing to let him buy it at such a price.
She remembered that she had begun to speculate rather often about what
he thought.
Then there was the morning they saw a half-covered rock a few yards off
in the foam of a furious rapid. She had tried to brace herself for the
shock, expecting next moment to be thrown into the water, but Thirlwell
with a sweep of the paddle ran the canoe past. So far, he had never
failed in an emergency, and she felt that she could not have chosen a
better guide and companion. He was resourceful and overcame
difficulties; he seemed to know when she would sooner be quiet and when
she liked to talk. They had talked much beside the camp-fires, and
although he was not clever, she remembered what he said.
But she had something else to think about that gave her a sense of loss
and a poignant melancholy. Indeed, she had forced her mind to dwell upon
the other matters in order to find relief, and she was glad when
Thirlwell broke the silence.
"We ought to make the Shadow by to-morrow noon, and the mine in the
evening."
"I think we go down the Grand Rapid before we reach the mine?"
Thirlwell made a sign of agreement, and after a moment's hesitation she
gave him a quick glance.
"I wonder if you know what day to-morrow is? I mean the associations it
has for me?"
"Yes," he said in a sympathetic voice. "I thought you would sooner not
talk about it; but I remember. In a way, it's curious you should be here
now."
"Ah," she said, "I wanted to be in the North when the day came round,
but I did not imagine I should go down the rapid in the evening. It was
in the evening the canoe capsized!"
"Dusk was falling; the smoke of a bush fire blew across the river, and
there was a moon."
"The moon will be out to-morrow," Agatha said quietly. "It is strange; I
couldn't have arranged that things should happen like this!"
She paused for some moments and then resumed: "Perhaps it is ridiculous,
but I imagine now I am going to find the lode. The doubts I started with
have gone; I feel calmly confident."
Thirlwell noted the emotional tremble in her voice and thought he had
better use some tact.
"I must see the load that got wet is properly put up," he said, and
moved back into the shadow; but Agatha sat still, watching the smoke
curl among the dark trunks.
She had not exaggerated, for a feeling of quiet confidence had been
getting stronger all day. There was no obvious reason for it and the
difficulties she must overcome were greater than she had thought; but
she felt that she would succeed. After all, her father had loved her
best, she was making the search for his sake, and when she reached the
scene of his efforts she would find some help. The hope was, of course,
illogical and she was a teacher of science; but it was unshakable and
comforted her. Then she mused about her father's life in the wilds.
Something had happened to him, for she had noted Thirlwell's reserve.
Perhaps bitter disappointment had broken him down; she did not know and
would not ask. It was enough that he had loved her; she was satisfied
with this.