It was an easy matter to help Joe out of the old well. He had
fallen into it while running after the wild-cat, but a heap of
decayed leaves at the bottom broke the fall and saved him from any
serious injury. Nevertheless, he must have been a little stunned at
first, for he made no outcry for some time, and it was his first
call for help that was heard by Charley.
The boys returned to their canoes, and, as it was not yet
midnight, prepared to resume the sleep from which they had been so
unceremoniously awakened. They had little fear that the wild-cat
would pay them another visit, for it had undoubtedly been badly
frightened. Still, it was not pleasant to think that there was a
wild beast within a few rods of them, and the thought kept the
canoeists awake for a long time.
The wild-cat did not pay them a second visit, and when they awoke
the next morning they were half inclined to think that their
night’s adventure had been only a dream. There, however, were the
marks made by its claws on the varnished deck of Joe’s canoe, and
Joe’s clothing was torn and stained by his fall. With the daylight
they became very courageous, and decided that they had never been
in the least afraid of the animal. The so-called wild-cat of
Canada, which is really a lynx, is, however, a fierce and vicious
animal, and is sometimes more than a match for an unarmed man.
There was a strong west wind blowing when the fleet started, and
Chambly Basin was covered with white-caps. As the canoes were
sailing in the trough of the sea they took in considerable water
while skirting the east shore of the Basin, but once in the narrow
river they found the water perfectly smooth. This day the fleet
made better progress than on any previous day. Nothing could be
more delightful than the scenery, and the quaint little French
towns along the river, every one of which was named after some
saint, were very interesting. The boys landed at one of them and
got their dinner at a little tavern where no one spoke English,
and where Charley, who had studied French at Annapolis, won the
admiration of his comrades by the success with which he ordered the
dinner.
[Illustration: SAILING DOWN THE RICHELIEU RIVER.]
With the exception of the hour spent at dinner, the canoeists
sailed, from six o’clock in the morning until seven at night, at
the rate of nearly six miles an hour. The clocks of Sorel, the town
at the mouth of the Richelieu, were striking six as the canoes
glided into the broad St. Lawrence and steered for a group of
islands distant about a mile from the south shore. It was while
crossing the St. Lawrence that they first made the acquaintance of
screw-steamers, and learned how dangerous they are to the careless
canoeist. A big steamship, on her way to Montreal, came up the
river so noiselessly that the boys did not notice her until
they heard her hoarse whistle warning them to keep out of her way.
A paddle-wheel steamer can be heard while she is a long way off,
but screw-steamers glide along so stealthily that the English
canoeists, who constantly meet them on the Mersey, the Clyde, and
the lower Thames, have nicknamed them “sudden death.”
Cramped and tired were the canoeists when they reached the nearest
island and went ashore to prepare a camp, but they were proud of
having sailed sixty miles in one day. As they sat around the fire
after supper Harry said, “Boys, we’ve had experience enough by this
time to test our different rigs. Let’s talk about them a little.”
“All right,” said Joe. “I want it understood, however, that my
lateen is by all odds the best rig in the fleet.”
“Charley,” remarked Tom, “you said the other day that you liked
Joe’s rig better than any other. Do you think so still?”
“Of course I do,” answered Charley. “Joe’s sails set flatter than
any lug-sail; he can set them and take them in quicker than we can
handle ours, and as they are triangular he has the most of his
canvas at the foot of the sail instead of at the head. But they’re
going to spill him before the cruise is over, or I’m mistaken.”
“In what way?” asked Joe.
“You are going to get yourself into a scrape some day by trying to
take in your sail when you are running before a stiff breeze. If
you try to get the sail down without coming up into the wind it
will get overboard, and either you will lose it or it will capsize
you; you tried it yesterday when a squall came up, and you very
nearly came to grief.”
“But you can say the same about any other rig,” exclaimed Joe.
“Of course you can’t very well get any sail down while the wind is
in it; but Tom can take in his sharpie-sail without much danger
even when he’s running directly before the wind, and Harry and I
can let go our halyards and get our lugs down after a fashion, if
it is necessary. Still, your lateen is the best cruising rig I’ve
ever seen, though for racing Harry’s big, square-headed balance-lug
is better.”
“You may say what you will,” said Tom, “but give me my
sharpie-sails. They set as flat as a board, and I can handle them
easily enough to suit me.”
“The trouble with your rig,” said Charley, “is that you have a mast
nearly fifteen feet high. Now, when Joe takes in his main-sail he
has only two feet of mast left standing.”
“How do you like your own rig?” asked Harry.
“Oh, it is good enough. I’m not sure that it isn’t better than
either yours or Tom’s; but it certainly isn’t as handy as Joe’s
lateen.”
“Now that you’ve settled that I’ve the best rig,” said Joe, “you’d
better admit that I’ve the best canoe, and then turn in for the
night. After the work we’ve done to-day, and the fun we had last
night, I’m sleepy.”
“Do you call sitting still in a canoe hard work?” inquired Tom.
“Is falling down a well your idea of fun?” asked Harry.
“It’s too soon,” said Charley, “to decide who has the best canoe.
We’ll find that out by the time the cruise is over.”
The island where the boys camped during their first night on the
St. Lawrence was situated at the head of Lake St. Peter. This lake
is simply an expansion of the St. Lawrence, and though it is thirty
miles long and about ten miles wide at its widest part, it is so
shallow that steamboats can only pass through it by following an
artificial channel dredged out by the government at a vast expense.
Its shores are lined with a thick growth of reeds, which extend
in many places fully a mile into the lake, and are absolutely
impassable, except where streams flowing into the lake have kept
channels open through the reeds.
On leaving the island in the morning the canoeists paddled down the
lake, for there was not a breath of wind. The sun was intensely
hot, and the heat reflected from the surface of the water and the
varnished decks of the canoes assisted in making the boys feel as
if they were roasting before a fire. Toward noon the heat became
really intolerable, and the Commodore gave the order to paddle over
to the north shore in search of shade.
It was disappointing to find instead of a shady shore an
impenetrable barrier of reeds. After resting a little while in the
canoes, the boys started to skirt the reeds, in hope of finding an
opening; and the sun, apparently taking pity on them, went under a
cloud, so that they paddled a mile or two in comparative comfort.
The friendly cloud was followed before long by a mass of thick
black clouds coming up from the south. Soon the thunder was heard
in the distance, and it dawned upon the tired boys that they were
about to have a thunder-storm, without any opportunity of obtaining
shelter.
They paddled steadily on, looking in vain for a path through the
reeds, and making up their minds to a good wetting. They found,
however, that the rain did not come alone. With it came a fierce
gust of wind, which quickly raised white-caps on the lake. Instead
of dying out as soon as the rain fell the wind blew harder and
harder, and in the course of half an hour there was a heavy sea
running.
The wind and sea coming from the south, while the canoes were
steering east, placed the boys in a very dangerous position. The
seas struck the canoes on the side and broke over them, and in
spite of the aprons, which to some extent protected the cockpits
of all except the _Twilight_, the water found its way below. It
was soon no longer possible to continue in the trough of the sea,
and the canoes were compelled to turn their bows to the wind and
sea--the boys paddling just sufficiently to keep themselves from
drifting back into the reeds.
The _Sunshine_ and the _Midnight_ behaved admirably, taking very
little water over their decks. The _Twilight_ “slapped” heavily,
and threw showers of spray over herself, while the _Dawn_ showed a
tendency to dive bodily into the seas, and several times the whole
of her forward of the cockpit was under the water.
“What had we better do?” asked Harry, who, although Commodore, had
the good-sense always to consult Charley in matters of seamanship.
“It’s going to blow hard, and we can’t sit here and paddle against
it all day without getting exhausted.”
“But how are we going to help ourselves?” continued Harry.
“Your canoe and mine,” replied Charley, “can live out the gale well
enough under sail. If we set our main-sails close-reefed, and keep
the canoes close to the wind, we shall be all right. It’s the two
other canoes that I’m troubled about.”
“My canoe suits me well enough,” said Joe, “so long as she keeps
on the top of the water, but she seems to have made up her mind to
dive under it.”
“Mine would be all right if I could stop paddling long enough to
bail her out, but I can’t,” remarked Tom. “She’s nearly half full
of water now.”
“We can’t leave the other fellows,” said Harry, “so what’s the use
of our talking about getting sail on our canoes?”
“It’s just possible that Tom’s canoe would live under sail,”
resumed Charley; “but it’s certain that Joe’s won’t. What do you
think about those reeds, Tom--can you get your canoe into them?”
“Of course I can, and that’s what we’d better all do,” exclaimed
Tom. “The reeds will break the force of the seas, and we can stay
among them till the wind goes down.”
“Suppose you try it,” suggested Charley, “and let us see how far
you can get into the reeds? I think they’re going to help us out of
a very bad scrape.”
Tom did not dare to turn his canoe around, so he backed water and
went at the reeds stern-first. They parted readily, and his canoe
penetrated without much difficulty some half-dozen yards into the
reeds where the water was almost quiet. Unfortunately, he shipped
one heavy sea just as he entered the reeds, which filled his canoe
so full that another such sea would certainly have sunk her, had
she not been provided with the bladders bought at Chambly.
Joe followed Tom’s example, but the _Dawn_ perversely stuck in the
reeds just as she was entering them, and sea after sea broke over
her before Joe could drive her far enough into the reeds to be
protected by them.
Joe and Tom were now perfectly safe, though miserably wet; but, as
the rain had ceased, there was nothing to prevent them from getting
dry clothes out of their water-proof bags, and putting them on as
soon as they could bail the water out of their canoes. Harry and
Charley, seeing their comrades in safety, made haste to get up sail
and to stand out into the lake--partly because they did not want to
run the risk of being swamped when entering the reeds, and partly
because they wanted the excitement of sailing in a gale of wind.
When the masts were stepped, the sails hoisted, and the sheets
trimmed, the two canoes, sailing close to the wind, began to creep
away from the reeds. They behaved wonderfully well. The boys had
to watch them closely, and to lean out to windward from time to
time to hold them right side up. The rudders were occasionally
thrown out of the water, but the boys took the precaution to steer
with their paddles. The excitement of sailing was so great, that
Charley and Harry forgot all about the time, and sailed on for
hours. Suddenly they discovered that it was three o’clock, that
they had had no lunch, and that the two canoeists who had sought
refuge in the reeds had absolutely nothing to eat with them. Filled
with pity, they resolved to return to them without a moment’s
delay. It was then that it occurred to them that in order to sail
back they must turn their canoes around, bringing them while so
doing in the trough of the sea. Could they possibly do this without
being swamped? The question was a serious one, for they were fully
four miles from the shore, and the wind and sea were as high as ever.