There is no place more unfit for a sudden and unexpected bath than
the lock of a canal. The sides and the gates are perpendicular and
smooth, and present nothing to which a person in the water can
cling. Charley had no difficulty in supporting himself by throwing
one arm over the stern of Harry’s canoe, but had he been alone in
the lock he would have been in a very unpleasant position.
As soon as the gates were opened the boys paddled out of the lock,
and went ashore to devise a plan for raising the sunken canoe. Of
course it was necessary that some one should dive and bring up the
painter, so that the canoe could be dragged out of the lock; but,
as canal-boats were constantly passing, it was a full hour before
any attempt at diving could be made. There were half a dozen small
French boys playing near the lock, and Charley, who was by no means
anxious to do any unnecessary diving, hired them to get the canoe
ashore, which they managed to do easily. It was then found that
nearly everything except the spars had floated out of her, and the
rest of the morning was spent in searching for the missing articles
in the muddy bottom of the canal. Most of them were recovered, but
Charley’s spare clothes, which were in an India-rubber bag, could
not be found.
This was the second time that the unfortunate _Midnight_ had
foundered, and Charley was thoroughly convinced of the necessity of
providing some means of keeping her afloat in case of capsizing. It
was impossible for him to put water-tight compartments in her, such
as the _Sunshine_ and the _Dawn_ possessed, but he resolved to buy
a dozen beef-bladders at the next town, and after blowing them up
to pack them in the bow and stern of his canoe. Tom, whose “Rice
Lake” canoe was also without water-tight compartments, agreed
to adopt Charley’s plan, and thus avoid running the risk of an
accident that might result in the loss of the canoe and cargo.
When the fleet finally got under way again there was a nice breeze
from the south, which sent the canoes along at the rate of four
or five miles an hour. Chambly, the northern end of the canal,
was reached before four o’clock, the boys having lunched on
bread-and-water while in the canoes in order not to lose time by
going ashore. They passed safely through the three great locks at
Chambly; and entering the little lake formed by the expansion of
the river, and known as Chambly Basin, they skirted its northern
shore until they reached the ruins of Chambly Castle.
More than one hundred and fifty years ago the Frenchmen built
the great square fort, with round towers at each angle, which is
now called Chambly Castle. At that time the only direct way of
communication between the settlements on the St. Lawrence and
those in the valleys of the Hudson and the Mohawk was up the
Richelieu River, Lake Champlain, and Lake George. It was this route
that Burgoyne followed when he began the campaign that ended so
disastrously for him at Saratoga, and it was at Chambly Castle that
he formally took command of his army. The castle was placed just
at the foot of the rapids, on a broad, level space, where Indians
used to assemble in large numbers to trade with the French. Its
high stone walls, while they could easily have been knocked to
pieces by cannon, were a complete protection against the arrows and
rifles of the savages, and could have withstood a long siege by any
English force not provided with artillery. In the old days when the
castle was garrisoned by gay young French officers, and parties
of beautiful ladies came up from Montreal to attend the officers’
balls, and the gray old walls echoed to music, and brilliant lights
flashed through the windows, the Indians encamped outside the gates
must have thought it the most magnificent and brilliant place in
the whole world. Now there is nothing left of it but the four
walls and the crumbling towers. The iron bolts on which the great
castle gate once swung are still embedded in the stone, but nothing
else remains inside the castle except grassy mounds and the wild
vines that climb wherever they can find an angle or a stone to
cling to.
The canoeists made their camp where the Indians had so often camped
before them, and after supper they rambled through the castle and
climbed to the top of one of the towers. They had never heard of
its existence, and were as surprised as they were delighted to find
so romantic a ruin.
“I haven’t the least doubt that the place is full of ghosts,” said
Charley as the boys were getting into the canoes for the night.
“Do you really believe in ghosts?” asked Tom, in his matter-of-fact
way.
“Why,” replied Charley, “when you think of what must have happened
inside of that old castle and outside of it when the Indians
tortured their prisoners, there can’t help but be ghosts here.”
“I don’t care, provided there are no mosquitoes,” said Joe. “Ghosts
don’t bite, and don’t sing in a fellow’s ears.”
Any one who has camped near a rapid knows how strangely the running
water sounds in the stillness of the night. Joe, who, although
there were no mosquitoes to trouble him, could not fall asleep, was
sure that he heard men’s voices talking in a low tone, and two or
three times raised himself up in his canoe to see if there were any
persons in sight. He became convinced after a while that the sounds
which disturbed him were made by the water, but, nevertheless,
they had made him rather nervous. Though he had professed not to
be afraid of ghosts, he did not like to think about them, but he
could not keep them out of his mind. Once, when he looked out of
his canoe toward the castle, he was startled to find it brilliantly
lighted up. The light was streaming from the casemates, loop-holes,
and windows, and it was some moments before he comprehended that it
was nothing more ghostly than moonlight.
Toward midnight Joe fell asleep, but he slept uneasily. He woke up
suddenly to find a dark object with two fiery eyes seated on the
deck of his canoe and apparently watching him. He sprung up, with
a cry of terror, which awakened his comrades. The strange object
rushed away from the canoe, and, stopping near the gate of the
castle, seemed to be waiting to see what the boys would do.
By this time Joe had recovered his senses, and knew that his
strange visitor was a wild animal. The boys took their pistols.
Tom, who was the best shot, fired at the animal. He did not hit it,
but as Tom advanced slowly toward it the creature went into the
castle.
“It’s a wild-cat,” cried Charley. “I saw it as it crossed that
patch of moonlight. Come on, boys, and we’ll have a hunt.”
With their pistols ready for instant service, the canoeists rushed
into the castle. The wild-cat was seated on a pile of stones in
what was once the court-yard, and did not show any signs of fear.
Three or four pistol-shots, however, induced it to spring down
from its perch and run across the court-yard. The boys followed it
eagerly, plunging into a thick growth of tall weeds, and shouting
at the top of their lungs. Suddenly the animal vanished; and though
Tom fancied that he saw it crouching in the shadow of the wall and
fired at it, as he supposed, he soon found that he was firing at a
piece of old stovepipe that had probably been brought to the place
by a picnic party.
Giving up the hunt with reluctance, the canoeists returned to their
canoes; at least, three of them did, but Joe was not with them.
They called to him, but received no answer, and becoming anxious
about him, went back to the castle and shouted his name loudly, but
without success.
“It’s very strange,” exclaimed Charley. “He was close behind me
when we chased the wild-cat into those weeds.”
“Has anybody seen him since?” asked Harry.
[Illustration: HUNTING FOR A WILD-CAT IN CHAMBLY CASTLE.]
Nobody had seen him.
“Then,” said Harry, “the wild-cat has carried him off, or killed
him.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Charley; “a wild-cat isn’t a tiger, and
couldn’t carry off a small baby. Joe must be trying to play a trick
on us.”
“Let’s go back and pay no attention to him,” suggested Tom. “I
don’t like such tricks.”
“There’s no trick about it,” said Harry. “Joe isn’t that kind of
fellow. Something has happened to him, and we’ve got to look for
him till we find him.”
“Harry’s right,” said Charley. “Go and get the lantern out of my
canoe, won’t you, Tom? I’ve got matches in my pocket.”
When the lantern was lit a careful search was made all over the
court-yard. Harry was greatly frightened, for he was afraid that
Joe might have been accidentally shot while the boys were shooting
at the wild-cat, and he remembered that in his excitement he had
fired his pistol in a very reckless way. It was horrible to think
that he might have shot poor Joe; worse, even, than thinking that
the wild-cat might have seized him.
The court-yard had been thoroughly searched without finding the
least trace of Joe, and the boys were becoming more and more
alarmed, when Charley, whose ears were particularly sharp, cried,
“Hush! I hear something.” They all listened intently, and heard a
voice faintly calling “Help!” They knew at once that it was Joe’s
voice, but they could not imagine where he was. They shouted in
reply to him, and Charley, seizing the lantern, carefully pushed
aside the tall weeds and presently found himself at the mouth of a
well.
“Are you there, Joe?” he cried, lying down on the ground, with his
head over the mouth of the well.
“I believe I am,” replied Joe. “I’m ready to come out, though, if
you fellows will help me.”
The boys gave a great shout of triumph.
“Are you hurt?” asked Charley, eagerly.
“I don’t think I am; but I think somebody will be if I have to stay
here much longer.”
It was evident that Joe was not seriously hurt, although he had
fallen into the well while rushing recklessly after the wild-cat.
Tom and Harry ran to the canoes and returned with all four of the
canoe-painters. Tying one of them to the lantern, Charley lowered
it down, and was able to get a glimpse of Joe. The well was about
twenty feet deep, and perfectly dry, and Joe was standing, with his
hands in his pockets, leaning against the side of the well, and
apparently entirely unhurt, in spite of his fall.