ON THE TRAIL OF THE GHOST CRAFT.
The boys, whom we left so sadly puzzled by the strange appearance and
almost simultaneous vanishment of the “ghost craft” at the conclusion of
the last chapter, formed part of a group of healthy, high-spirited lads
who are already familiar to most of our readers under the name of the
Border Boys. They earned this title in the first place by their feats on
the troublous Mexican frontier, where, as related in “The Border Boys on
the Trail,” they defeated the machinations of a notorious cattle rustler
named Ramon De Barrios, who had long proved a thorn in the side of the
ranchers along the frontier.
Particularly had De Barrios harassed the cattle and horses of Mr.
Merrill, whose son Jack, a school-fellow of the others at Stonefell
College, had invited Ralph Stetson, son of the railroad “king,” and
Professor Wintergreen, to spend some time with him and “rough it.” In
this volume the secret of the lone mission was revealed, and the boys,
by pluck and brain, regained the stolen herd of stock rustled under
cover of night from the Merrill ranch by De Barrios and his followers. A
thrilling experience was that of the attempted dynamiting of a big
irrigation dam in the midst of a violent storm, which had raised the
prisoned waters almost to the breaking point. Jack Merrill and his chums
succeeded in thwarting the plans of the rascals who hoped to inundate
half a county and ruin much valuable property, out of revenge.
In the second volume of this series, “The Border Boys Across the
Frontier,” we made the acquaintance of Buck Bradley, a bluff and hearty
circus manager who proved to be a trusty ally of the boys when they made
their escape from a band of Mexican revolutionists. The boys’ capture
had followed their attempt to prevent a large consignment of arms and
ammunition from being shipped from Uncle Sam’s side of the line. Once
more they proved their right to the title of “Border Boys,” for, by a
subterranean river flowing under a supposedly “haunted” mesa, they
crossed the international boundary, and at once plunged into a series of
strange and exciting adventures, including a ride on a big locomotive
that ran the gauntlet of armed rebels.
The boys were next met, together with other old friends, in a succeeding
book, which was called “The Border Boys with the Texas Rangers.” Again,
amid new scenes, the lads found themselves in exciting predicaments.
Jack was lost in a hidden valley from which he escaped by a climb up
steep and rocky cliffs, triumphing over apparently insurmountable
obstacles. But his pluck and sturdy training brought him successfully
through this adventure, and he rejoined his comrades in time to
participate in the heading off of a wild stampede of cattle, an
opportunity which tested the boys’ best efforts.
In yet another volume, the experiences of the lads with the rurales of
Mexico were set forth. This book was called “The Border Boys with the
Mexican Rangers,” and painted a picture of life in the wilder parts of
old Mexico amid rugged mountains and brigand-infested plains. A clever
use of an extemporized heliograph was made by the lads and saved them
from a predicament into which they had been forced by a stupendous
cloud-burst which swept their camp away. At a lone ranch, too, they met
with some surprising adventures which culminated in a ride for life
across the plains. At a grand fiesta they won several of the prizes, a
feat which earned them the still further enmity of men who had good
reason to dislike and fear them. In old Mexico, the land of fascinating
romance, the boys surely had their full share of incident and adventure,
and their experiences served to strengthen their characters and broaden
their minds. To cope successfully with difficulties forms the best sort
of training for lads, and our Border Boys showed that when it came to
the test they were not lacking in energy or grit.
A fifth volume, called forth by the demand on the part of our readers to
follow the boys still further through their lives, dealt with a
different phase of their existences altogether. In “The Border Boys in
the Canadian Rockies” the lads traveled on their sturdy little mustangs
through a wild and rugged country. Not the least interesting phase of
their experiences dealt with the mystery surrounding Jimmy, the waif,
who came into their lives when they landed at a tiny way station on the
Canadian Pacific Railroad. Several mysterious happenings, too, puzzled
and annoyed them not a little while they were on their journey to the
Big Bend of the Columbia River. These incidents involved a man of
strange personality who, for no apparent reason, harassed and alarmed
them on numerous occasions. However, in the end all that had appeared
inexplicable was cleared up, and Jimmy, the waif, came into his own at
last.
About two months before the present volume dealing with their adventures
opens, the lads had accepted the invitation of Ralph Stetson’s father to
spend some time with him at his estate on Dexter Island, in the
wonderful St. Lawrence River, that mighty outlet of the Great Lakes,
which rolls its turbulent current along the border line between the
United States and Canada. The scene of much historical interest in the
past, the making of history is still going on along the St. Lawrence.
Both the United States and Canada keep a sharp lookout for smugglers and
other evildoers along the line which extends through the exact center of
the great river. Interesting adventures are of almost daily occurrence
in that region.
Beginning with the night upon which we encountered them in the rapids,
the boys were destined to be plunged into experiences along the
international boundary line that would demand all the resourcefulness
and efficiency which had been developed in them by the scenes through
which they had already passed.
But for the time being, at any rate, the mystery of the ghostly craft
had to wait for a solution. The next day was the one selected by the
boys for a joyous excursion on their swift, sure craft down the historic
waters of the St. Lawrence, which has been called “the noblest, the
purest, the most enchanting river on God’s beautiful earth.”
For a thousand miles from Lake Ontario to the sea the mighty current of
the great waterway runs, embellished with islands and made beautiful by
leaping rapids and swirling whirlpools. Except to the specially built
river steamers these rapids, that is the larger ones, are not navigable
except on the way down the river. Coming up, even the most powerful
craft have to take to the canals, of which there are several, all on the
Canadian side and free to all commerce.
The boys planned a quick trip down to Montreal and thence to Quebec. The
return trip would have to be made more slowly, owing to the obstacles
already mentioned.
Having provisioned the _River Swallow_, on which they intended to make
their home during the cruise, there was nothing left to do but to start
up the engines and set out. For this trip Malvin and Hansen were left
behind, as Mr. Stetson needed them to do some work about the island and
they were not actually required on the river craft.
It was a glorious morning when the boys started out. The sun lay
glitteringly on the clear, swiftly flowing waters, and the _River
Swallow_ glided from her dock as if she were as pleased with the
prospect of the cruise as were the boys.
Ralph Stetson, naturally studious, had found much to interest him in the
history of the great river they were navigating; and, indeed, no stream
in the world has more storied interest than the mighty water course that
marks the border of the United States and Canada.
Jacques Cartier is generally given the credit of the discovery of the
St. Lawrence, although some historians mention other candidates for the
honor. Ralph’s studies told him that little is known of Cartier, beyond
the fact that he belonged to a hardy race of French fishermen.
By some writers he is even referred to as a corsair, although there does
not appear to be much evidence to support this theory. It was not until
his second voyage, however, that Cartier really entered the river, to
the mouth of which he gave the name of the Bay of St. Laurens.
With the spirit of exploration strong upon him, Cartier pushed onward,
hugging the southern shore of a river eighty miles wide. To his mind, he
had found the Mecca of every explorer of that day: the visionary passage
to Cathay. For to discover a waterway to the far east was the dream of
every early voyager.
As he sailed onward, mighty rock walls rose up majestically on each side
of the great stream he was traversing. Gray rocks piled themselves tier
upon tier, topped by huge forests and backed by glimpses of mountains
beyond.
Then came bold headlands, thrusting their fronts into the river. From
day to day the scene shifted, with the current ever increasing in
swiftness. The rocky headlands gave way to long level reaches of swampy
land. Cartier, in his records, speaks of the innumerable crows that
haunted these marshes, although there were plenty of duck and other wild
fowl.
But at last Cartier began to realize that he had not stumbled on the
passage to Cathay as he had fondly dreamed.
The year before he had taken two Indians captive. They were still part
of his crew. He summoned them before him.
“What river is this?” he asked.
One of the Indians pointed majestically to the west.
“The river without an end,” he said solemnly.
Cartier found the Indians extraordinarily skillful in managing their
frail birch bark canoes, even in the wildest of the rapids. He was
greatly interested in all the different tribes which he encountered.
Many of them were at war with each other, although all sprang, according
to present-day opinion, from the Cree stock.
The old French traveler says that he found the Indians friendly. He
describes a visit to one of their towns, which stood at the base of a
hill surrounded by cornfields, with the river and the primeval forest
beyond. This village, occupied by a tribe known as the Amerinds, was
well fortified, as were all the villages of this tribe, by a high
stockade.
With a body guard of twenty of his men Cartier entered the walled
village. They found inside the stockade a gallery from which missiles
could be hurled down on any foe. Piles of stones lay in readiness for
this purpose.
Behind the village stood an imposing height of land which Cartier,
impressed by the noble view from its summit, named Mont Royale. This was
the origin of Montreal, which city stands on the site of the stockaded
Indian village of Hochelaga.
It was too late in the season when the bold investigator reached this
village to press on further, and he therefore made his way back to
winter quarters at Havre de St. Croix on the St. Charles River. His
experiences during the “white winter,” as he called it, were enough to
daunt even his courageous spirit. To add to his troubles, his men
contracted scurvy, and many died before spring came, from the close
confinement and lack of proper food.
The Indians brewed for the sufferers a sort of tea of pine boughs and
bark called “ameda,” which appeared to have a good effect on the victims
and, in Cartier’s opinion, saved the lives of many of them.
He returned to France and, some time later, made a third voyage. This
time it was a trip for colonization. But the little colony suffered
terrible privations and much illness and misery, and it was to the
Indians that they owed what succor in the way of provisions and
primitive medicine they were able to obtain. Cartier sailed back to
France, leaving the remnants of the colony, and never returned again.
Then came Champlain, the founder of Quebec. It is a far cry from the
noble city of Quebec as it is to-day to the huddle of huts erected in
the form of a square by Champlain, and surmounted by a dovecote on the
top of a pole to symbolize his peaceful intentions. Of his discovery of
the historic lake that bears his name it would be beside the mark to
speak here, inasmuch as this necessary digression is simply to acquaint
our readers with a little of the history of the river on which our
Border Boys were destined to meet such surprising adventures, and with
the city of Montreal, to which they were now bound.