The only other boat besides mine that remained above the rapid was the
York boat, drawn back up to the Island on the cable to re-load and
continue the trip to McMurray if necessary.
_We Cut Loose to Shoot the Rapids_
Gathering my crew and sundry other loose boatmen lying around, we
embarked on the scow for the short but swift journey, there being
sixteen souls aboard. We shoved off, the steersman standing on the
after-deck, alertly watching the stream. He worked the boat into the
passage by means of the sweep, which is a massive oar protruding half
of the scow's length over and pivoted to the stern with a steel pin.
This acted as a rudder, but twice as effectively as the ordinary
rudder, because of its length, with the additional advantage that
being movable up, down and to either side it offers no resistance to
the rocks, therefore cannot break. We travelled slowly at first, but
gradually gaining impetus, the scow was soon tossing in the boiling
waters, travelling with the speed of an express train. It trembled from
stem to stern with the shock of the waves. There was an exhilarating
sensation with an element of danger in it.
_The Steersman Distinguished Himself_
The performance of the steersman was admirable. It was difficult to
believe that this lithe, active fellow who with powerful arms handled
the heavy sweep with such ease, bearing down on the handle to lift the
blade clear of the water, jumping from one gunwale to the other with
a speed and agility truly astonishing, could be the same slow-moving
figure that idly lounged on his oar all the previous way.
_We Made the Big Eddy Safely_
He seemed to guide the boat as by instinct and with such unerring
skill, twisting and turning her among the boulders in the roughest
of the water through the narrow channel, that we had hardly time to
realize what was happening before the restless figure in the stern
resumed his usual listless attitude and we were riding in the Big Eddy.
At the cry of "Out oars," we were quickly rowed ashore by the remainder
of the crew.
_Pulling the Scow Back by Cable_
After dropping passengers, no time was lost in endeavoring to pick up
the cable and pull back to the island. Luck was against us. Repeatedly
the scow was swept away before the log attached to the end of the rope
could be caught, though we knew it was being tossed around on the outer
rim of the eddy. After battling the current for an hour the men put
me ashore. There were still some matters requiring attention on the
island, so I walked back, ferrying across again above the rapids. When
I reached the landing place the crew had just managed to secure the
cable and were being pulled up.
After loading the rails and car wheels there was nothing to hinder our
departure. My work was done.
The next eighty miles to our destination was a succession of rapids,
but none bad enough at this time to necessitate unloading. The journey
was continued next morning, the previous evening having been spent by
all hands in a futile attempt to dislodge the tug "Crester." It was
apparent that nothing but a further rise of water would move her off,
so we left a force of men to help Captain Barber out of his difficulty
and continued on our way.
_We Carried Russian Passengers_
Cornwall had previously arranged with me to take some of the Russians
as passengers, his boat being too crowded for rough water work. Thus
it happened that thirty of these smelly gentlemen were transferred to
me. They were not desirable company on account of their odour. Besides,
they were afraid of the rapids. The weather, which ever since our
leaving Athabasca Landing had been perfect, now changed. The bright
sky was obscured by clouds. It rained intermittently all day. The
Russians huddled themselves up under my tarpaulins. They presented an
inexpressibly comic appearance to me, as they sat around for the most
part completely covered up, dismal faces now and then peering out from
unexpected places to survey the scenes. When the boat hit a few waves,
the lumpy canvas would contort and wriggle all over in anguish, uncouth
muffled sounds arising. Louison, who rarely smiled, took particular
pains to seek out the worst water. He grinned broadly whenever we
struck a big wave.
_The Arrival at Fort McMurray_
[Illustration: _H.B.C. Store at Fort McMurray, Alberta_]
Next day this eventful voyage ended. We arrived at Fort McMurray before
noon. There was one particularly handsome fellow among my passengers,
who attracted me by his refined appearance, but he spoke no English.
The lad with many of his companions went in to bathe in the Clearwater
River, which joins the Athabasca at this point. In front of the village
it is very shallow. This man went out too far. There was a hole into
which he fell and could not swim out. He was drowned before it was
possible for a boat to reach him. A drag was improvised out of a
two-by-four to which were attached cords fitted with fish hooks. After
six hours' labor our mournful task was successfully accomplished and he
was laid to rest in a new outfit of store clothes in accordance with
the Mohomedan faith. Thus for a week was my journeying at an end.
(_To be continued_)
==========