provided against, it was only necessary to counteract so far as
possible the demoralizing effect of the daily sight of china upon
the morale of the expedition. This end was diligently sought by the
commanding officer by every means in his power, but to no purpose. He
personally supervised the daily measuring of coffee with the Cook's
cup, but by some means the china bowls were always filled, and their
owners never failed to remark upon the superior excellence of coffee
taken from such receptacles over that imbibed from barbaric tin. It
was evident that sooner or later a resort must be had to arbitrary
measures, but no fitting opportunity presented itself until the
squadron took refuge in the mill as narrated above.
[Illustration: Comparative Coffee Cups.]
The thunder storm proved to be of extraordinary violence, throwing down
trees, overturning buildings and playing the mischief generally.
Midway of the meal the wind so increased as to drive the rain in
upon the festive board. The Commodore saw that the time had come for
action, and acted with the promptitude which should always characterize
an able commander. "Prepare for a change of base," he shouted above
the roar of rain and wind. "_Purser_, coffee-pot and sugar; _Vice_,
devilled turkey and salt; _Cook_, bread and butter." Each man seized
the articles indicated and fled to a place of shelter. With a gleam of
triumph in his eye the Commodore collected the remaining dishes, and
taking his life in his hand, for the good of the service, sprang upon
a pile of logs that was awaiting the saw, and attempted to cross it at
a run. At the third step a log tilted. The Commodore went down, while
the spasmodic upward motion of the arms, under such circumstances, sent
the dishes aloft. They speedily came down, but it was in pieces that
did the Cook's heart good to see. The Commodore, it is true, might have
broken his leg, but he did not, and while he somewhat ruefully rubbed
his starboard shin, he watched with scarce concealed satisfaction the
gathering of the fragments. Not a bowl or a plate remained. The morale
of the expedition was saved!
After the storm passed, it became necessary to circumvent or run the
dam. It was a logging dam, some eighteen feet in perpendicular height,
and offered extraordinary inducements for running, but with a little
too much risk, so the boats were laboriously passed one by one over the
wing of the dam, and found themselves at the head of a superb rapid
which swept beneath and around a rocky cape, and quickly carried the
fleet beyond the ken of the little forest settlement lying around the
mill.
If possible the scenery below the mill was more picturesque than any
previously seen. At one point the woods were on fire, and for a few
hundred yards the smoke was so thick that progress had to be made with
extreme caution, as the current was swift and the channel full of
rocks. At another the stream wound slowly between wood-crowned cliffs,
whose geological nature severely taxed the scientific attainments of
the expedition, and tempted a long sojourn, while the Artist vainly
essayed a realistic sketch of the strangely convoluted strata, which
made the face of the cliff so wonderfully expressive of the elemental
strife and torture that must have shaped it in some by-gone age. So
with alternating reaches of swift and still water, the lovely stream
coursed downward, bearing the fleet only too rapidly toward its
junction with the larger river. One more night was passed among the
spruces of its rugged shores, and shortly after the next morning's
start it became evident that the forest stream was preparing to fulfill
its destiny in driving the saws of a great mill. Houses straggled
along the bank, and presently the fleet was feeling its way among
logs and booms to a landing place. A few hours sufficed to procure
transportation around the beautiful falls, and by sundown the squadron
was making camp as usual on the banks of a broad placid river, which to
all appearances was the same which it left a few days before. Here was
Acadia again, and something of a mental effort was necessary to realize
that it was another Acadia from that wherein the first æon of the
cruise had passed. The vesper bell sounded as before, the lumber laden
barges drifted as lazily as ever, and the villages named after unheard
of saints dotted the banks in close succession, and the roar of rapids
was no longer to be heard.
XV.
THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
It had been something of a relief to stow masts and sails compactly
away for a few days, and now again it was an agreeable change to be
once more under canvas and see the slender masts bend and spring before
the breeze.
In the course of a day's sail the river narrowed perceptibly, as rivers
are wont to do as they near their outlets, and the various members
of the expedition, having noted the fact, proceeded, each in his own
way, to discover the cause thereof. A melancholy howl (learned from
Garibaldians in Italy) by the Vice, who was always in the rear, was
rightly construed by the occupants of the Red Lakers (in the advance)
as a sign that the Vice wanted to light his pipe, so the Cook, who by
virtue of his official position was custodian of the expeditionary
matches, lay to until the Vice came alongside.
"The river," remarked the Vice, between puffs, "is narrowing--every
mile. Suppose it--should keep on--doing it for--fifty miles more;
it--would close entirely before--it reached the--ow!--(here the flame
of the match reached the Vice's fingers)--reached St.--the devil, oh!"
for the Vice had dropped the still blazing fragment upon his bare foot.
"No such saint in any calendar but that of politics," said the Cook
reprovingly.
"The St. Lawrence, I meant, of course," said the Vice: "the devil isn't
recognized by _any_ party at all."
"I suppose not," answered the Cook, who had dropped into a dreamy
reverie. "The true workers in this world are never recognized by those
who are most entirely dependent upon them."
"You're begging the question," exclaimed the Vice, examining his
scorched instep. "An apology in the shape of your flask of olive oil
will be satisfactory. How _do_ you explain the river's shrinking, any
how?"
"Why, it's growing deeper, and as there's only a given amount of water,
it can't occupy more space in one direction without narrowing in
another. It's a precedent you might safely follow in politics."
The Vice reflected for a moment; then a sweet smile irradiated his
features, his left eye closed, his right forefinger was slowly laid
athwart his nose, and he replied,
"I knew that long ago, my boy; it's the mainstay of the business--the
system, I mean. Let the party broaden, and 'Othello's occupation's
gone.'"
But the Cook, having relieved his mind of chaff which nevertheless
carried (unknown to him) a grain of wheat, determined to inflict upon
some one else the questioning to which he had been subjected, so he
speedily overhauled the other Chrysalid containing the Purser, and
demanded the reason of the river's narrowing. The Purser abruptly
ceased patching a sonnet which he had scribbled upon the blade of a
spare paddle, and answered,
"The water-drops, so long united, have a premonition of the doom of
separation soon to befall them, and they cling more closely to each
other, for a last fond interchange of sentiment."
"Water is not compressible by its own volition," promptly replied
the Cook, who loved cyclopedias, and never knew sentiment when he
encountered it. But the Purser, who hated questions so intensely that,
had he lived in the time of that vigorous old interrogation point
yclept Socrates, would have tramped a thousand miles for hemlock rather
than have left the sage unpoisoned, ran ashore to avenge himself upon
the Commodore, who had beached his boat to await the coming up of his
lagging fleet. To the commanding officer the Purser put the disturbing
question as to the cause of the narrowing of the river, and with the
following result:
"Rivers shrink toward their natural channel for the same reason that
capitalists take to government bonds--because their banks are slippery,
and suffer by the many rushes upon them."
The villages grew nearer together as rapidly as the shores did, and
ahead and aloft there were always in sight several church spires of the
unvarying pattern peculiar to churches along the river. Every spire
was metal-covered and bright, the latter perhaps because there were
no opposition houses of worship to cause that dismalness of aspect
affected by all churches in neighborhoods where religion tends more to
squabbling than to sanctity. At short intervals appeared the residences
of the priests, each indicated by a tall cross at the gateway. The
Commodore, with his peculiar regard for the church so near a sister to
his own, signified a half-intention to go ashore to confession, but on
being reminded that but a week remained for the cruise, and that no
such short time would suffice an editor in which to unburden his soul
of its manifold sins and transgressions, he forbore to make others
suffer for his own faults. It was noticed thereafter, however, that
he doffed his helmet respectfully whenever he sailed past a church,
and that when his own day for foraging came, he preferred always to
purchase milk from a priest's housekeeper.
About this time the Purser began to drop behind in a manner
inexplicable even by the known slowness of his boat; even the
slow-sailing Vice distanced him, so the Cook, not without a special
appreciation of the Purser's tobacco, went ashore to wait for his
comrade to come up. The bank of the river was high, and the Cook, who
had been hugging the shore for shade, had made company for himself by
roaring sundry staves, supposing that no one but his comrades were
within listening distance. Great was his surprise, therefore, when on
clambering up the bank he beheld a closely built village in front of
him. Had the locality been any but Acadia, even the river banks could
not have hidden the town, but here the dwellings are as modest of
mien as the natives. Few boast of a second story, nor is the floor of
the first very much raised above the level of the ground. In exterior
dimensions, most of the houses reminded the Cook of his chicken-house
at home, or of those suburban villas which cluster so thickly upon the
hills adjoining Central Park. But with size the last-named parallel
ceased, for the exteriors were painted, the floors, seen through the
open doors and windows, were clean, and no pig disported himself
about the door-step. Children clustered about them as thickly as they
always do about very small houses, but the matrons lacked that fagged,
heaven-hungry mien peculiar to their sisters in climes where the
Scripture is fulfilled by the greatest being the servant of all--all of
her own servants. Here one might speak of love in a cottage and not be
laughed out of society--hopeless, indeed, would be his fate were he to
desire any other sort of asylum for his affections.
The Cook longed for social intercourse in this real Acadia, but he
doubted the ability of his French to see him through; fortunately he
espied a shop, and therein he purchased sundry sticks of candy; with
one of these gravitating between his fingers and lips, he strolled
about, and within five minutes he had enchained in sweet bonds several
lapsful of dark-eyed children whose pure intuitions taught them that in
the great human search for sweetness and light it was never well to
decline a proffered half of the desirable whole.
When the Purser drew near, it was with a sketchbook loaded with
drawings of odd boats which had been passed at their moorings; and
the names of these, with those of their owners, which were painted in
antique letters astern, would have been of inestimable value to any
writer of a French romance. And he brought something dearer yet to the
eyes and heart of the Cook, and yet not wholly unpicturesque, it being
a pair of cockerels, handsomely spangled, which he had purchased of
a thrifty dame with whom he had exchanged some courteous words as he
lounged past her riparian laundry in his boat. The Cook hastily took to
his boat, distanced the Commodore and Vice, and an hour later announced
broiled chickens for dinner, the gridiron having been a few feet of
stout wire, which after use could be crumpled together into a thin
handful of old iron, yet extended, at need, to a two-chicken capacity.
After the expedition had dined, each member discovered, upon arising,
that the human side is not destitute of muscles, and that a steady
strain of half a day at rudder and paddle, can search these out in a
manner as uncomfortable as it is thorough. The Purser, who usually
made himself conspicuous, when ashore, by a broad red woolen sash,
apparently a muffler such as small boys wear upon their necks in
winter, was by far the most agile of the party, and his companions,
as they rubbed away the stitches in their sides, inwardly vowed that
the picturesque was not always ridiculously useless, particularly when
assumed on proper occasions, instead of being treated as of constant
utility.
As the wind was gaining in industry, the Commodore permitted an
overlong delay, to be improved physically, and while this was being
enjoyed there hove in view a craft peculiar to French-American waters,
but which would not be tolerated anywhere else. It was an immense
barge, considerably more awkward than a canal boat, and moved by two
great square sails, each with a mast to itself. The breeze which
bellied the canvas of this monster would have driven a canoe along at
the rate of twelve miles an hour, but the barge proceeded so leisurely
that a maiden sauntering along the road on the bank chatted with the
pilot for a mile or two without quickening her pace. Having both his
vessel and his sweetheart upon his mind, it is not strange that the
pilot did not perceive the four foreign craft beached a-starboard; the
maiden, however, with a woman's eye for color, caught sight of the club
signal which the Cook always flew at his masthead, instead of upon the
mainpeak, with which it would have been furled when sail was taken in.
Her figure, which had afforded so gracious a relief against the blue
sky behind her, disappeared with the unscientific effect of seeming
to leave a cloud behind, and as the unintentional listeners devoutly
thanked heaven for such knowledge of the French tongue as had enabled
them to overhear the artless affectionate dialogue which had been going
on, they saw, gazing at the pilot, how dark the Acadian complexion
can be when displayed in the face of a lover newly made lonesome.
Gladly would the swain himself have retired from sight, but the helm
of his boat was obedient only under greatest effort, so he strained
sullenly at the tiller, a figure at first amusing but soon pathetic.
The sentiment which keeps the world from growing old was not a stranger
to the canoeists, so the Purser murmured a bit from Jasmin and caught a
hint which for years he had tried to take from Jules Breton; the Cook
wished there might be a joint of chicken left to offer the poor fellow;
the Commodore hailed him heartily, and offered to carry him out a taste
of brandy in token of a professional and sentimental sympathy, and
the Vice sent him a good cigar; and it came to pass that five minutes
later the ere-while lovelorn helmsman was trolling a song of war and
slaughter as merrily as if love and Evangeline had never existed.
"Ah," sighed the Commodore, "the days are gone when rum and true
religion were the principal supports of fallen humanity. Smoke seems to
answer that fellow's purpose as well as religion."
"If my memory serves me rightly," said the Vice, as if in profound
reflection, "a great deal of the religion I have heard preached, was
well informed with a something from which smoke is a natural deduction."
"That," said the Purser, "is because in the universal fitness of
things a man recalls most readily that which he most urgently needs. No
one can wonder that a politician--"
"Language unparliamentary," interrupted the Vice, with a wry face.
"A statesman, then," resumed the Purser, "should recall most vividly
the only element by which he can effectually be purified."
"Sulphur is not to be used under the rays of the sun," interposed the
Commodore; "let's take to a more cooling element."
A few moments were devoted to extra-careful stowing, for there was a
likelihood that _terra firma_ would again be reached only on the shores
of the great St. Lawrence. The Vice, with the statesmanlike instinct
of saving himself by assisting his companions heavenward, endeavored
by fair means and foul to persuade the others to accommodate his
gun, shot-bag and the volume of Tupper, but regarding the latter his
failure was complete. At length he slyly tossed it into the branches
of an umbrageous ash, a picturesque old landmark of centuries. But the
Commodore saw him, and went handsomely to the rescue of the old tree by
knocking the book out with a boat-hook.
"There are trees enough being destroyed daily by coon-hunters,
road-boards, and other villains," said he, "and I won't stand quietly
by and see so splendid a specimen crushed beneath so relentless a
weight."
"But somebody may find the book," pleaded the Vice, who was already
afloat.
"Thank heaven, the natives can't read English," replied the Commodore,
"so they won't be injured."
"But I supposed I might find it there when I came this way on next
summer's cruise," said the Vice.
"So you will," said the Commodore; "neither wind nor wave can move any
thing so heavy: when that book changes its base, there'll be nothing
left to cruise with, and nobody left to cruise."
The Commodore, for reasons which he would not explain, had ordered that
the St. Lawrence should be reached that day, even though there was not
a breath of wind, and the whole trip had to be made under paddle, and
the Cook knew full well that when a Commodore (or anyone else) issues
an order that sounds well and prints nicely, its success or failure
depends largely upon the digestion of those who are expected to execute
it. So the Cook prepared a meal as digestible as it was bountiful, and
within an hour the expedition had consumed enough of omelettes, stewed
potato, rice croquettes, cream-toast and coffee to have terrified their
respective wives into applying for divorces on the ground of inordinate
appetite.[9] It is barely possible that the meal was prolonged with the
hope that a breeze might spring up in the meantime, and do away with
the necessity not only of paddling, but of taking down and stowing away
all standing rigging, which in still water is likely to unfavorably
affect the time of the boat. But no breeze came, not even in reply to
some vigorous whistling on the part of the Commodore. So the expedition
took to its several paddles, and got into mid-stream to get all
possible assistance from the current, and then, just where the river
was widest, and the squadron furthest from shore, a brisk breeze came
down as unexpectedly as if it were a savings bank, and each man had to
paddle ashore again to re-step his masts so that he could set his sail.
Then the squadron ran rapidly down the river, wondering only if such a
breeze on so small a water could work a man up to so keen an ecstacy,
how they would be able to contain themselves when cruising upon the
almost shoreless St. Lawrence.
As usual,[10] the Cook, in the Cherub, soon took the lead, and rapidly
increased the distance between himself and his companions. There was
nothing to fear, for the Vice, who had previously been through the
river with the Alderman, had assured the party that there was not
another rapid between it and the St. Lawrence. And even if there
should be one which the Vice had forgotten, the Cook would be glad of
the geographical ignorance which would enable him to shoot it without
the attendance of three other boats, with their advisory counsels. So
he hauled his mainsail close and flew along through the water, his
steering-paddle keeping upon his wrist a strain more delicious than man
ever felt at the larger end of a trout-rod. He shouted, he whistled,
and finally, there being no critic within hearing distance, he sang.
And as his rather uncertain voice rose and fell, the wind seemed to
supply a deep bass, a foundation into which his wavering notes fitted
perfectly. He fervently thanked the wind, and the tall trees through
which it roared, for their sympathetic effort; he redoubled his own
vocal exertions, and the wind and trees, apparently touched by his
appreciation, seemed to assist more heartily than before. Suddenly the
Cook noticed that the east bank, from which direction the wind came,
was without trees at that point, and while he dropped into silence to
wonder how the sound could be created where the means were lacking,
the bass turned gradually to sub-bass. Suddenly he saw an irregularly
intermitting spout of water near the middle of the river, then he
noticed a troubled wrinkle across the river's entire front. He hastily
let his boat come up into the wind and run into what seemed a cove
on the east bank, and as she ran ashore there arose a loud shout of
applause from a dozen men congregated there.
"No one ever came so near before," said one, in French.
"Saved by a minute!" ejaculated another.
"Could he have meditated suicide?" murmured a third. "No; he looks not
like one who has been disappointed in love."
The Cook courteously but firmly demanded an explanation, and one of the
bystanders, a venerable man in the dusty coat of a miller, led him to
a slight elevation to obtain it. Then the Cook saw that a natural and
abrupt fall of about fifteen feet extended entirely across the river!
In an instant he vowed a handsome subscription to the campaign fund of
whatever candidate might run against the Vice in the autumn campaign.
The other boats approached in the order of their rapidity, the
Chrysalids coming last, and the Vice's admission that his boat,
with its keel, could never have escaped had it been in the Cherub's
dangerous proximity to the falls, so reacted upon the Cook's temper
that he alienated a portion of the intended subscription to the
opposition campaign fund, and expended it upon a dinner for four, for
which he gave the proprietress of an adjoining hotel--"_Le Hotel de la
Ville_"--_carte blanche_. And the landlady did her best. For an hour
she and several assistants hung over two stoves, while other assistants
scoured the neighborhood for delicacies. The dinner was appetizing, as
was all whereof the squadron partook in Acadia after they had learned
to avoid the railroad hotels. Finally after all else was disposed of,
an immense dish of raspberries was placed upon the table, and beside it
a small bowl full of what seemed to be buttermilk.
"There!" exclaimed the Vice, eying the bowl with manifest disgust,
"that's an illustration of the effect of monarchical institutions upon
physical habits. The dinner has been perfect, thus far, but now, just
when the climax should be attained, they offer us buttermilk!"
"Perhaps it's cream," suggested the Commodore.
"Cream?" said the Vice scornfully. "Oh no. I know cream. Cream is a
thin blue fluid. This is not like it in the least."
Here the Vice scooped a teaspoonful of the pasty fluid, and brought it
gently towards his fastidious nose. Suddenly he tasted it, straightened
rigidly, and exclaimed,
"Judas Iscariot! It _is_ cream!"
The Vice said no more until he had sampled the bowl to the extent of
a saucerful. Then he raised his face and displayed unwonted lines of
thoughtfulness and conviction, as he exclaimed,
"Gentlemen, if an English cow gave that cream, I have no hesitation in
saying that our independence wasn't worth fighting for!"