for fifty cents, transported the four canoes one by one to the water's
edge and deposited them ready for launching. By mid-afternoon the
Purser and Cook had bought a few necessary supplies and the Commodore
and Vice had reconnoitered the dam and scanned the rapids below, down
which it was intended to run before sunset.
[Illustration: In the Second Rapids.]
Very quickly the news spread through the little town that four Yankees
were going down the Race, and by the time all was ready for passing the
boats over a practicable part of the dam, the whole population, male
and female, including summer boarders in the bewildering toilettes of
the period, were ranged along the banks, with the exception of those
who came to lend a hand, and a squad headed by the local hotel-keeper,
who strove to dissuade the party from what he represented as a rash
venture. The hotel-keeper in fact was very kind, offering to provide
good rooms over night and send the boats round the Race in a wagon
in the morning. But the white water was all the while roaring its
invitation and drowning his arguments, and though a witness was
finally brought who, having only one leg, declared that he had "run"
the rapids, and that the squadron couldn't do it, the temptation was
too strong to be resisted, so one after another, with safe intervals
between, the cruisers paddled out into the flashing water, and then for
a few minutes, with every sense on the alert, every nerve strained, no
one had an eye for anything save sunken rocks, treacherous swirls of
the current, and the hundred indications which to the canoeist indicate
the deepest water and the safest channel. It seemed only a few seconds,
but the better part of a mile had been passed when the four waited
for one another in the first reach of quiet water that afforded us a
resting place. Each had grazed a few rocks in the first rapid, but all
had passed triumphantly and without visible mishap beyond the ken of
the hotel keeper, and the villagers, and were content. Half the Race,
however, was yet to be run, and there was barely enough of daylight
left for the undertaking.
"The stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight past,"
sang the Purser as he paddled the Arethusela out into the stream
to show the channel, the flagship following, the Cherub next, and
the Rochefort bringing up the rear--an order of sequence that was
presently effectually reversed. Just below the head of the next rapid
the Arethusela hung upon a rock, and in an instant her commander was
overboard and struggling in a fierce waist-deep current to keep his
footing, and retain a hold upon his boat. To add to his discomfiture
his paddle had come apart and half of it was floating merrily down the
stream. As the Commodore swept past, the discomfited Purser called on
him to save it; and two or three strokes brought him nearly within
reach, but at the same time deflected him from the only path of safety.
The next minute he, too, was in the water, which, before testing, he
supposed to be knee-deep, but which proved to be nearer neck-deep,
while the fugitive paddle, with a playful flourish of its blade, dived
under a log, disappeared for a moment from view, and then danced
cheerfully down the swift waters beyond. At this crisis the Cherub and
Rochefort appeared, and flashed past as, half swimming, half wading,
the two strove to reach a secure footing.
They shouted derisive inquiries for orders to the Commodore, and
presently disappeared around the bend below.
Speaking unofficially and strictly in a private capacity, the Commodore
admits that he had all he could do to avoid grievous wreck on the logs
beneath which his companion's elusive paddle had vanished. Wading and
swimming were alike irreconcilable with the conditions, for the bed
of the river was full of boulders over which the water boiled without
breaking. He tried the plan of holding on to his boat and floating; but
after being dragged and bumped for a few yards over the stones, he gave
that up and resigned himself to careful wading until he reached the
shallows, where he at length succeeded in re-embarking--no easy task,
by the way, in swift water--and soon joined the Cherub and Rochefort.
[Illustration: Down the Race.]
A camping spot was selected on a bank of sawdust near which was a
mighty pile of dry mill waste, and the three proceeded to light a fire
and make a somewhat needful change of clothing, before getting supper
and turning in for the night. After a long time the Arethusela came in
sight, her crew laboriously working a half-paddle--though why a spare
one stowed below decks was not used was never found out--and examining
the shores and channel for the lost property. This was happily
discovered close to camp, and presently a "lean-to," was covered with
the soaked tent, which made a reasonably comfortable shelter.
Sawdust is not so bad to sleep on when you have a boat or a
rubber-blanket under you, but it retains moisture badly, and is
seldom dry more than an inch below the surface. Moreover, the dry
part catches fire and burns in an exceedingly persistent and stealthy
manner, tunneling unsuspected in all directions and making itself very
disagreeable. The members of the expedition, however, knew its nature
and provided against its vagaries by wetting thoroughly in the vicinity
of the fire, where the Cook speedily had coffee and a tempting pan of
scrambled eggs ready for the evening meal.
The voyagers went to sleep this night with unwonted noises in their
ears, namely the close-at-hand roar of rapids rising and falling as
the mysterious and imperceptible changes of the evening air bore it,
now heavily, now faintly, through the thick forest of spruce. It was
a wilder region than that through which they had been passing on the
lake and its outlet, and the woods gave out sounds at night which often
aroused one and another with the pleasing and yet uncomfortable thought
of bears and lynxes in his half awakened brain.
XIII.
SWIFT WATER.
Here, at the foot of "Rapid No. 2," the authors would say a word for
the benefit of the inexperienced. They are asked by cautious readers
if this kind of play is not dangerous. Certainly, just as coasting,
and travelling by rail, and crossing Broadway, and playing base and
foot-ball, are dangerous. In short, just exactly as life itself is
dangerous. They would not advise any but bold swimmers to undertake
the amusement; but where proper survey is taken to avoid possible
falls, a wetting is the worst that can ordinarily happen. During the
entire trip no mishaps occurred save those which came in as part of
the fun, and although the voyagers were wet and dry half a dozen
times a day, not one caught the slightest cold, or suffered any ill
effects from exposure. Hardly any woman, and not by any means all men,
can be expected to appreciate the fun of these duckings and other
uncertainties of canoe cruising. It may as well be admitted, however,
that no out-of-door recreation that is worthy the name, is wholly
without risk. The steadiest horses sometimes take fright and run away.
Without its rivalries and possible perils to heart and hand, croquet
itself would be but an insipid pastime. All excitement presupposes
risk of some kind, but it refreshes body and brain alike when taken in
reasonable doses and in a fashion that does not infringe on the rights
of others. Since the Saturday afternoons of their boyhood the authors
have experienced nothing so delightful as those long days on lake and
river.
To certain members of the fleet the awakening in the chilly morning
air, with fog rising from the water and drifting through the slender
spires of balsam and spruce, was the reverse of inspiriting, and the
uncertainty as to the course of the river below did not tend to create
an irresistible eagerness for farther rapids and farther wettings. The
sun however, soon drove away the mist, dried the heavy dew from boats
and equipments, and gradually, as the river dimpled in the sunlight
and rushed brimming past in a swift deep current, it resumed its
attractiveness and, as soon as clothing was dry enough to put on, every
man was eager to begin the day's adventures, and get it comfortably wet
again.
Single file should be the order of procedure in a rapid river where
there is any question as to the width of unobstructed channel. On
sighting a rapid whose foot cannot be clearly seen from its head, some
one should reconnoitre, and after noting the bearings of the current,
should lead the way, the rest of the fleet following at safe intervals
and taking prompt warning from his example in case he comes to grief.
As a general rule the water is deepest near the _concave_ shore. The
reason is obvious. Each general shore-line of a crooked stream is a
series of points and bays modified by a hundred varying conditions.
Every point tends to deflect the current toward the opposite shore, and
where the strongest current is, there is ordinarily the deepest water.
Where the stream breaks into rapids the same rule holds good, but is
liable to endless modifications from boulders and rocks of all shapes
and sizes. Nevertheless it may be assumed that it has been trying for
untold ages to shape its channel according to nature's rule, and it
will be found in most cases to have attained a reasonable success.
At the head of a rapid the white broken water is almost invariably V
shaped, the apex pointing down stream. Between the arms of the V the
water is comparatively smooth, and dark. Along the arms and below the
apex is white water, thrown up more or less into waves. It is generally
the safest course, barring casual rocks which may put in an appearance
anywhere, to head directly for the apex of the V, keeping in unbroken
water as long as possible. Then trust to luck and a quick eye and
hand to avoid the rocks which come too near the surface. Nothing but
experience can teach one to recognize these, and even recognition does
not always imply the ability to avoid disaster.
If a keel-boat hangs resolutely on an obstacle, there is nothing for
its occupant to do but to jump overboard, and the quicker the better,
if he wishes to keep his stores dry. In many cases such a boat may
swing free or be lifted clear by a powerful thrust of the paddle.
The canoeist's instinct is all that he has to tell him whether to
jump or thrust. With a keelless canoe the case is different as it
is comparatively rare that such an one will hang persistently to an
obstacle. It is often best however, to take to the water in order to
save the canoe from hard knocks and scrapes. In view of this necessity
for jumping overboard, some protection is necessary for the feet, and
there is nothing so good as the common canvas bathing-shoes with thick
soles of hemp or jute. An old pair of slippers is, however, far better
than nothing.
Upon the whole, the best policy is to sit as usual amidships and give
to rocks the widest berth possible. There is a pernicious doctrine in
some quarters, derived it must be confessed from English canoeists,
that in running rapids it is well to sit astride the canoe near the
stern, and lift her clear if she strikes by simply standing up on the
bottom of the stream, if it can be reached with the feet. The Purser
tried this once, purely out of patriotism, but did not make a very good
demonstration of its advantages, for he upset as soon as he ran out of
shoal water, or rather he took a ducking in order to save his stores
which would inevitably have been wet had he tried for an instant longer
to maintain his precarious seat. The rivers of Europe may admit of this
very unpicturesque mode of running a rapid, but those of America do not
take to it kindly.
The keels of the Chrysalids, are a decided disadvantage in this
phase of canoeing. They give the canoe additional draught, and hang
with provoking tenacity upon any rock or other obstacle which they
encounter. The Red-Lakers on the contrary slide with an inch or more to
spare over an obstacle which would bring a Chrysalid to instant grief.
They turn far more easily, and hence can much more readily be made by
a quick swerve to one side or the other, to avoid a threatened danger.
The blindest worshipper of the Chrysalid model can claim nothing for a
keel in swift water, save that it receives the hard knocks which would
otherwise have scarified the more fragile bottom planks. This argument
in their favor is not good for much, as the keel cannot protect more
than two or three inches on each side, unless the obstacle happens to
be broad and flat. Under these conditions, it was to be expected that
the Rochefort would select with excellent judgment a place whereon to
demonstrate the advantages of her keel. It may have been at the foot
of Rapid No. 9, at any rate it was at the head of a comparatively
quiet reach of water where three of the fleet had drawn out of the
current with a view to luncheon. The Vice was the last to arrive, and
was sweeping boldly down where the current was swift and deep, having
passed the white water, when suddenly he was observed to bring up all
standing, his boat swinging round instantly across the current, having
fixed a malicious grip upon a hidden rock, over which the water boiled,
but did not break. The Vice was unceremoniously plumped out on the
down-stream side into water that was neck deep and running like a
mill-race, but as he wore a life-belt he feels justified in maintaining
that he did not go entirely under. He succeeded in getting a hold upon
the rock by the aid of his boat hook, and seated himself thereon,
holding his boat by the painter as she floated, full of water and only
sustained by her air-tight compartments, a yard or two below him. The
picture that he presented at this moment was comical in the extreme,
and he was heartlessly kept sitting there,--he could not very well get
off alone with his boat to manage,--while the Commodore made a sketch.
The regular artist was too much concerned at his friend's critical
situation to pay any attention to the calls made upon him for a careful
study. The current was so swift and deep that efforts to reach the
Vice by swimming were unsuccessful, so it became necessary to wade out
a few rods below him and catch his boat, when he let her float down.
He easily swam ashore when relieved of this charge, and once more the
Rochefort had to be emptied of everything, and all lay by for two or
three hours, while her owner and his belongings were spread out on the
rocks to dry, he discoursing, the while, until all fell asleep, of the
innate viciousness of a boat which could thus deliberately bring her
commander to confusion and shame.
[Illustration: The Vice sits for his
Portrait.]
It was in "Number 12" that all came nearest to utter discomfiture, that
is to actual overturns, and consequent wettings of things not intended
to be wet. Never had the Vice, whose turn it was to survey the route,
seen a more innocent-looking rapid. It swept down in a slight curve,
dancing in the sun and seemingly offering a clear channel. It was the
flagship's turn to bring up the rear, and in watching the descent of
the others the Commodore perceived that at a certain point each crew
of one became as it were demoralized, and struggled mightily with the
current until each turned at a right angle and went on its way into
the pool below. The reason was not apparent until he reached the same
point, when he suddenly became aware that the stream was bearing him
with great velocity directly upon a huge rock. To go to starboard was
certain wreck. The only safety lay in turning sharply to port, as his
predecessors had done. To all appearance this was utterly impossible,
and, while straining every nerve to make good his escape, the
flag-officer fully expected to be rolled over into twelve feet of water
in the most undignified manner, and in full view of the fleet. Just
at the last moment, when an overturn seemed inevitable, an unexpected
set-back from the rock caught the canoe and whirled her instantly over
a delightful little dip, hardly high enough to be termed a fall, into
the deep water below, where the rest of the fleet lay enjoying the
perplexity and relief through which each in his turn had passed. It is
quite impossible under such circumstances to shout advice, for the roar
of the water completely overpowers the voice. What would have happened
if any or all had struck the rock? Why, each and all would have been
spilled comfortably into deep water, to be sure, whence it would have
been easy to swim ashore and put things to rights.
After a day of exciting work of this kind it was not unpleasant in the
afternoon to paddle out upon the smooth waters of a little lake in the
midst of the forest. Along its gentle swelling shores were scattered
farm houses, beyond which the rough clearings crept up the hillsides.
Two or three huge water-oaks bent over the shore in a shady cove, and
here the squadron took shelter until the sun's rays should be less
vertical. Presently from a neighboring farm house there came down to
the water's edge a damsel who proceeded artlessly to rivet upon herself
the attention of the fleet by lighting a fire under a boiler, and doing
up the family washing at the lake-side. The artist filled a page or
two of his sketchbook with studies from the life, but refuses for some
reason to furnish them for publication. She was near enough, however,
to afford a fine opportunity, as the Artist said, to study the peculiar
French type of form and feature, as modified by several generations of
life in a foreign climate.
Presently the Commodore, under pretence of inquiring after eggs and
milk, approached _la blanchisseuse_. The Cook lounged respectfully
behind his commanding officer, while the latter addressed the woman in
alleged French to receive only a dismal shake of the head in reply.
He repeated his question, changing the phraseology, but with a
different result, while the Cook, to relieve the Commodore's evident
embarrassment, softly whistled the Thuringian "Volks-lied." A pleased
glance from the woman elicited a word or two from the Cook; after a
short but spirited conversation in which the Commodore took no part,
the Cook informed his companion that the desired supplies could be had
at the house, and the two men departed.
"Confound this French lingo!" exclaimed the Commodore, "there are as
many dialects in this region as there are towns, and I don't easily
pick them up; how do _you_ manage to do it?"
"My dear fellow," said the Cook impressively, "there is one rule to
be unvaryingly observed in conversing with these people: never speak
French to a woman who understands only the German language."
The Commodore dropped the milk-pail--fortunately it was empty--and
endeavored to swear the Cook to secrecy, with what success this
narrative doth show. But he derived some consolation from frequent
allusions to the Purser's professional studies of the "French type of
form and feature, as modified by a change of abode."
When the sun was low enough to cast the shadow of the hills upon the
lake, the fleet started and made its way toward a distant point which,
it was surmised, was not far from the outlet and would afford good
camping ground for the night. A more delightful three mile paddle can
hardly be imagined. The peculiarly sacred stillness of a forestland
at sunset was over all the scene; a silence that seemed absolute, and
was yet vocal with noises that did not break the spell. The plash of
leaping fish, the far off scream of an eagle, the occasional laughter
of a loon, the measured dip of paddles, none of these were discordant
with nature, and even the human tones that now and then floated from
the distant houses were so faint as to be inoffensive. The voyagers
hardly exchanged a word as side by side they slid through the reflected
hues of sunset, watching in silence the mighty mountain that rose
in dark purple against the west, and gathered around its summit a
night-cap of cloud that changed from red to grey just as the point
was reached and the tent pitched beneath a huge gnarled pine, that
towered above its fellows, and offered, as the Vice suggested, an
admirable mark for any nocturnal thunderstorm that might be wandering
in this direction. Only one thing aroused any apprehensions as to the
comfort of this camp, and that was the ceaseless roar (the word is used
advisedly in preference to "hum") of insects. They proved innocuous,
however, and sleep soon came down upon the tired canoeists.
XIV.
MORE RAPIDS.
Contrary to custom the camp had been pitched where the morning sun
would strike in upon it. This is undesirable unless an early start
is the order of the day, for breakfast in the level rays of a summer
sun is not so comfortable as in the shade of a natural screen. At a
tolerably seasonable hour, therefore, the squadron paddled around the
point and across the reach which still separated them by two miles
or so from the outlet. For variety the wind was dead ahead, but the
distance was soon passed and the flash of rapids at the very lip of the
lake announced that the stream maintained the character which it had
displayed in the earlier portion of its career. In a moment the four
pretty canoes were in line at ample distance apart and were dancing
down the swift current into a dark sweep of spruce-covered banks, with
four as light hearted vagabonds on board as ever left care behind them.
In retrospect it is hardly possible to recall any part of this romantic
river where a halt was not a luxury merely because of the picturesque
surroundings. Seldom could the eye reach more than half a mile up
or down stream, for the precipitous or forest-covered banks were
continually pushing out on the one side and receding on the other,
while between them the river curved and wound in a perpetual succession
of rapids, pools, and quiet stretches. The current even in its most
quiet moods was singularly swift and powerful, bearing the fleet onward
with hardly an effort, at the rate of six or seven miles an hour. When
clearings occurred they were on the points, as is always the case in
thinly settled countries. Naturally such points are formed in the
re-entrant angle of the stream, and become places of deposit for drift
and alluvium in flood time. The opposite bank is usually bold and with
soil enough in most cases to sustain only the wild forest growth. The
quiet reaches, however, are frequently broken where the river forces
its way through narrow passages, or over rocky ledges. There are no
dangerous falls until within a mile of the mouth, and there is only one
dam between the lake and the falls. This dam the voyagers reached a few
hours after leaving the lake; hours full of the pleasant, healthful
excitement of rapids and wild shifting scenery.
Striking the back-water of the mill-pond a mile above the dam, the
fleet paddled down and soon came in sight of the logs and crib-work
which indicate the presence of a saw-mill.
Drawing up alongside the boom, all hands walked across the dam and
considered the chances of running the race-way. Noon had passed
however, and while the question was still unsettled, children came
down from the mill-settlement with fresh raspberries, and butter made
in the French style, without salt, and thus reminded of luncheon, it
was decided, in view of an approaching thunder shower, to adjourn to
the shelter of the mill. Here an incident occurred which proved as it
had never been proved before the admirable discipline maintained in the
_personnel_ of the command.
In the early days of the cruise it became painfully evident to the
real canoeists who were connected with the expedition, that in one
particular at least an unseemly tendency toward effeminate luxury was
developing itself. The Vice and the Purser, on the first day out,
produced with an air of insufferable superiority, china plates, and
bowls which they were pleased to denominate coffee cups. The relative
size of these as compared with the legitimate tin-cups used by the
Commodore and the Cook is herewith shown. Of course the flag-officer at
once detected the ruse, and foiled the conspirators by issuing at the
first camp, Special Order No. 1 to this effect:
The coffee ration will always be measured in the Cook's cup, that
being the standard pint recognized at these headquarters.
By order of the Commodore.