Charley and Harry took in their sails, keeping the canoes head to
sea with an occasional stroke of the paddle. When all was made
snug, and the moment for turning the canoes had arrived, they
realized that they were about to attempt the most hazardous feat of
the whole cruise.
“Can we do it?” asked Harry, doubtfully.
“We’ve got to do it,” replied Charley.
“Why can’t we unship our rudders and back water till we get to the
reeds?”
“It might be possible, but the chances are that we would be
swamped. The seas would overtake us, and we couldn’t keep out of
the way of them. No, we’ve got to turn around and sail back in the
regular way.”
“You know best, of course,” said Harry; “but what’s the use of
taking in our sails before we turn around? We’ll have trouble in
setting them again with the wind astern.”
“We can turn the canoes quicker without sails than we could
with the sails set, and every second that we can gain is worth
something. Besides, if we are capsized it will be an advantage to
have the sails furled. But we’re wasting time. Let your canoe get
right astern of mine, so that mine will keep a little of the sea
off of you; then watch for two or three big seas and turn your
canoe when they have passed.”
Harry followed his friend’s instructions, and succeeded in turning
his canoe without accident. Then Charley, getting into the lee of
the _Sunshine_, did his best to imitate Harry’s successful feat. He
managed to turn the canoe, but while in the act a heavy sea rolled
into the cockpit and filled the _Midnight_ absolutely full. The
beef-bladders, however, kept the canoe afloat, but she lay like a
log on the water, and every successive wave swept over her.
Charley did not lose his presence of mind. He shouted to Harry to
run up his sail and keep his canoe out of the way of the seas, and
then he busied himself shaking out the reef of his main-sail, so
that he could set the whole sail. The moment the canoe felt the
strain of her canvas she began to rush through the water in spite
of her great weight, and no more seas came aboard her. Steering
with one hand, Charley bailed with his hat with such energy that he
soon freed the canoe of water. Meanwhile he rapidly overtook Harry,
and reached the reeds, while the _Sunshine_ was a quarter of a mile
behind him.
Tom and Joe were found sitting in their canoes and suffering the
pangs of hunger. Charley put on dry clothes, while Harry prepared
a lunch of dried beef and crackers, after which the canoeists
resigned themselves as cheerfully as they could to spending the
rest of the afternoon and the night in the reeds. It was not a
pleasant place, but the wind kept the mosquitoes away, and the boys
managed to fall asleep soon after sunset. The wind died out during
the night, and the boys found, the next morning, that only a few
rods below the place where they had spent the night there was an
open channel by which they could easily have reached the shore.
This was rather aggravating, and it increased the disgust with
which they remembered Lake St. Peter and its reed-lined shores.
The voyage down the St. Lawrence seemed monotonous after the
excitement of running the Magog rapids, and the various adventures
of the sail down the Richelieu. The St. Lawrence has very little
shade along its banks, for, owing to the direction in which it
runs, the sun shines on the water all day long. The weather was
exceedingly hot while the boys were on the river, and on the third
day after leaving Lake St. Peter they suffered so greatly that they
were afraid to stay on the water lest they should be sunstruck.
Going ashore on the low sandy bank, they were unable to find a
single tree or even a hillock large enough to afford any shade.
They thought of drawing the canoes ashore and sitting in the shade
of them, but there was not a breath of air stirring, and the very
ground was so hot that it almost scorched their feet. Half a mile
away on a meadow they saw a tree, but it was far too hot to think
of walking that distance. They decided at last to get into their
canoes and to paddle a few rods farther to a place where a small
stream joined the river, and where they hoped to find the water
somewhat cooler for bathing.
On reaching the mouth of the little stream the bows of the canoes
were run ashore, so that they would not float away, and the boys,
hastily undressing, sprung into the water. They had a delightful
bath, and it was not until they began to feel chilly that they
thought of coming out and dressing. Tom was the first to go
ashore, and as he was wading out of the water he suddenly felt
himself sinking in the sand. Harry and Joe attempted to land a
few yards from the place where Tom was trying to drag his feet
out of the clinging sand, and they too found themselves in the
same difficulty. Harry at once perceived what was the matter,
and, making frantic efforts to get to the shore, cried out to his
comrades that they were caught in a quicksand.
The struggles made by the three boys were all in vain. When they
tried to lift one foot out of the sand the other foot would sink
still deeper. It was impossible for them to throw themselves at
full length on the quicksand, for there were nearly two feet of
water over it, and they were not close enough together to give one
another any assistance. By the time Charley fully understood the
peril they were in, Tom had sunk above his knees in the sand, and
Joe and Harry, finding that they could not extricate themselves,
were waiting, with white faces and trembling lips, for Charley to
come to their help.
Charley knew perfectly well that if he ventured too near the other
boys he would himself be caught in the quicksand, and there would
be no hope that any of them could escape. Keeping his presence of
mind, he swum to the stern of one of the canoes, set it afloat, and
pushed it toward Tom so that the latter could get hold of its bow.
He then brought two other canoes to the help of Joe and Harry, and
when each of the three unfortunate canoeists was thus furnished
with something to cling to he climbed into his own canoe.
“What are we to do now?” asked Harry.
“Just hold on to your canoes till I can tow them out into the
stream. You can’t sink while you hang on to them.”
“Won’t the canoes sink with us?” asked Tom.
“Not a bit of it. You wouldn’t sink yourselves if you could lie
down flat on the quicksand. I was caught in a quicksand once, and
that’s the way I saved myself.”
“I hope it’s all right,” exclaimed Joe; “but it seems to me
that you’ll have to get a derrick to hoist me out. But I’m not
complaining. I can hang on to my canoe all day, only I don’t want
to be drowned and buried both at the same time.”
Charley, meanwhile, was busily making his canoe fast to Tom’s
canoe with his painter. When this was done he paddled away from
the shore with all his might, while Tom tried to lift himself
out of the quicksand by throwing the weight of his body on the
canoe. Slowly Tom and his canoe yielded to the vigorous strokes
of Charley’s paddle and were towed out into deep water. By the
same means Joe and Harry were rescued, and then the entire
fleet--Charley paddling, and the others swimming and pushing their
canoes--floated a short distance down stream, and finally landed
where the sand was firm and hard.
“What should we have done if you’d got into the quicksand, as we
did?” said Harry to Charley, as they were dressing.
“By this time we should all have disappeared,” replied Charley.
“I shall never go ashore again while we’re on this river without
making sure that I’m not walking into a quicksand,” continued
Harry. “It was awful to find myself sinking deeper and deeper, and
to know that I couldn’t help myself.”
“Very likely there isn’t another quicksand the whole length of
the St. Lawrence,” said Charley. “However, it’s well enough to be
careful where we land. I’ve noticed that where a little stream
joins a big one the bottom is likely to be soft; but after all a
regular dangerous quicksand isn’t often met. I never saw but one
before.”
“Tell us about it,” suggested Joe.
“No; we’ve talked enough about quicksands, and the subject isn’t a
cheerful one. Do you see that pile of boards? Let’s make a board
shanty, and go to sleep in it after we’ve had some lunch. It will
be too hot to paddle before the end of the afternoon.”
A shanty was easily made by leaning a dozen planks against the
top of the pile of boards, and after a comfortable lunch the boys
took a long nap. When they awoke they were disgusted to find that
their canoes were high and dry two rods from the edge of the water.
They had reached a part of the river where the tide was felt, and
without knowing it they had gone ashore at high tide. They had to
carry the canoes, with all their contents, down to the water, and
as the receding tide had left a muddy and slippery surface to walk
over the task was not a pleasant one. They congratulated themselves
that they had not gone ashore at low tide, in which case the rising
of the water during the night would have carried away the canoes.
Sailing down the river with a gentle breeze, and with the help of
the ebbing tide, the canoeists came to the mouth of a small river
which entered the St. Lawrence from the north. They knew by means
of the map that the small river was the Jacques Cartier. It was a
swift, shallow, and noisy stream, flowing between high, precipitous
banks, and spanned by a lofty and picturesque bridge. Taking in
their sails, the boys entered the Jacques Cartier, picking their
way carefully among the rocks, and making headway very slowly
against the rapid current. They stopped under the bridge, just
above which there was an impassable rapid, and went ashore for lunch.
Near by there was a saw-mill, and from one of the workmen who came
to look at the canoes the boys heard wonderful reports of the
fish to be caught in the stream. It was full of salmon--so the man
said--and about nine miles from its mouth there was a pool where
the trout actually clamored to be caught. The enthusiasm of the
canoeists was kindled; and they resolved to make a camp on the bank
of the stream, and to spend a few days in fishing.
After having thus excited his young hearers the workman cruelly
told them that the right to fish for salmon was owned by a man
living in Montreal, and that any one catching a salmon without
permission would be heavily fined. The trout, however, belonged to
nobody, and the boys, though greatly disappointed about the salmon,
would not give up their plan of trout-fishing. They hired two carts
from a farmer living a short distance from the river, and, placing
their canoes on the carts, walked beside them over a wretchedly
rough road until they reached a place deep in the woods, where a
little stream, icy cold, joined the Jacques Cartier. Just before
entering the latter the little stream formed a quiet pool, in
which the trout could be seen jumping. The point of land between
the trout-stream and the river was covered with a carpet of soft
grass, and on this the canoes were placed and made ready to be
slept in.
The workman at the mouth of the Jacques Cartier had not exaggerated
the number of trout in the pool. It was alive with fish. The boys
were charmed with the beauty of their camping-ground and the luxury
of their table. It was rather tiresome to walk two miles every
day to the nearest farm-house for milk, but with the milk rice
griddle cakes were made, and upon these and fresh-killed trout the
canoeists feasted for three delightful days.
[Illustration: “THEY FOUND A BEAR FEASTING UPON THE REMAINS OF
THEIR BREAKFAST.”]
They had one real adventure while on the Jacques Cartier. One day,
when they returned to their camp from an exploration of the upper
part of the trout-stream, they found a bear feasting upon the
remains of their breakfast and their bottle of maple-sirup, which
he had upset and broken. The animal was full-grown, and looked
like a very ugly customer, but no sooner did he see the boys than
he started on a rapid run for the woods. By the time the boys
had found their pistols and were ready to follow him the bear had
disappeared, and though they hunted for him all the rest of the day
they could not find him. Had the bear taken it into his head to
hunt the boys he would probably have been much more successful, for
their pistol-bullets would have had little effect upon him, except
to sharpen his appetite for tender and wholesome boys’-meat.