We landed at a rough wharf at the mouth of the wide river, where a few
shanties and a plank warehouse stood just in front of a forest of
pine-trees, the stumps, five or six feet high, of many that had been cut
down to make room for the tiny settlement, still standing up and forming
a graceful curve all round from the ground to the place where the marks
of the axe still looked white and yellowish red.
Our chests were carried out on to the shaky platform in front of the
shanties, one of which was dignified by the title of hotel, and to
Esau's great disgust, Gunson's two chests and a long wooden case were
set down close to them. Then three men who had been passengers landed,
and lastly the little Chinaman, who had hung back for some time, till
the steamer was about to start again, sprang quickly on to the wharf,
with his luggage hanging to one crooked finger. His movements were
quickened by the big fellow Gully, who, as soon as he caught sight of
him, made a rush and then leaned over the gangway, uttering a roar like
that of some huge beast of prey. This done he shouted to us.
"Wait a bit," he said. "We shall run again one another some day. Then
we'll all have another grip--"
"With all my heart," said Gunson, in a loud voice; "but I should have
thought you had had enough of my manners and custom's."
We stood waiting till the boat had gone some distance, and then, as the
three men who had landed had disappeared, and the Chinaman was seated on
a log at a short distance from where we stood, I turned to Gunson.
"Where does the town lie?" I asked.
"What town?" he said, smiling.
"The one at the mouth of the river."
"Oh, there is one over yonder," he said, "but it is not much better than
this, and as this was the handiest for you, I thought you had better
stop here."
I had often felt low-spirited since leaving England, but that evening,
with the last glow of the sun fast dying out over the ocean, the huge
wall of enormous trees behind, and the gliding river in front, and
nothing but a few roughly-built boarded houses in sight, my spirits
seemed to sink far lower than they had ever been before.
I glanced at Esau, and he looked gloomy in the extreme. But I tried to
put a good face on the matter, as I said to him--
"One of us had better go and see if these people will give us a night's
lodging."
"You may take that for granted," said Gunson. "Take hold of one end of
my chest here, and let's get it under cover."
I saw Esau frown, and I knew that as soon as we were alone he would
protest against our being ordered about. But I did not hesitate,
helping Gunson to get his two chests and packing-case into the house,
when he frankly enough came and helped in with ours.
The people did not seem disposed to be very friendly; but rough as the
shed-like house was, everything seemed clean, and they were ready to
supply us with some cake-like, heavy bread, and a glowing fire composed
of pine-roots and great wedge-like chips, evidently the result of
cutting down trees.
"Rather rough, Squire Gordon," said Gunson, with a laugh, as he saw me
sitting disconsolate and tired on the end of my chest; "but you'll have
it worse than this. What do you say to camping out in the forest with
no cover but a blanket, and the rain coming down in sheets? you'd think
this a palace then."
"I was not complaining," I said, trying to be brisk.
"Not with your lips, my lad, but you looked as if you'd give anything to
be back in London."
"Oh, we ain't such cowards as that," said Esau shortly.
At that moment the wife of the settler, who called himself in red
letters a hotel-keeper, came toward us with a large tin pot like a
saucepan with a loose wire cross handle.
"Here's a kettle," she said, in rather an ill-used tone; "and there's a
tub o' water for drinking outside. Got any tea?"
"Yes, thank you," said Gunson, good-humouredly. "We shall do now."
The woman left us, and Gunson turned to me.
"Well, squire," he said, "what have you got in the commissariat
department?"
"Some bread and cold ham," I replied.
"Oh, but we must have some hot. I've done better than you," he said,
laughing, and taking out of a wallet a piece of raw bacon, which he laid
upon the rough board table, and then a tin canister. "Now then, Esau,
my lad, let's see you cut that in slices, while I make some tea ready.
Gordon, will you go and fill the kettle half full?"
He spoke so briskly and cheerily that I hardly knew the man again, and
his words had so good an effect upon me, that I soon had the kettle
filled and seated in the midst of the cheery blaze; while Esau was
cutting up the bacon, and Gunson was heating and cleaning a bent
gridiron, that had been made by binding some pieces of thick wire a
little distance apart.
"Now then, Dean," he said, "can you cook that bacon?"
Esau laughed scornfully.
"Do you hear that?" he said, turning to me. "Why, I've cooked bacon and
bloaters at home hundreds of times."
"Good!" cried Gunson. "Then you shall cook a bit here. There will not
be any bloaters, but as much salmon as you like to grill."
"Salmon?" said Esau, pausing in the act of paring off some bacon rind.
"Yes; salmon. The rivers are so full of them here sometimes, that they
crowd one another out on to the shore."
Esau gave him a look, and then went on preparing the bacon, afterwards
setting it to frizzle over the clear fire.
"I must rout up some basins," said Gunson, rising. "I don't suppose we
shall get any tea-cups and saucers here."
He went out of the rough room, and left us together just as the kettle
began to sing, and the bacon to send out an appetising odour.
"Well," said Esau, "that don't smell bad. Seems to make one feel not
quite so mizzable to hear a kettle singing again. I did feel bad a bit
back."
"Didn't you?"
"Yes: wretched," I replied.
"And all the more," continued Esau, "because old Gunson seems to have
taken us into custody like, and orders us to do this and do that."
"But--"
"Now do let _me_ finish," grumbled Esau. "I know what you're going to
say, and I'll say it for you. You're allus getting into scrapes, and
he's getting you out of 'em."
"And you?" I said, laughing.
"Hah! that's better," cried Esau, pouncing on a piece of bacon and
turning it over. "I do like to see you laugh a bit; seems to make
things cheery. But I say, when is he going his way and going to let us
go ours?"
"How's the bacon getting on?" said Gunson, entering, and the rough board
door swung to. "Ah, nice and brown, and the kettle close upon the boil.
Know how to make tea, Gordon? Not our way in camp I know. Look here."
He turned out nearly a handful out of the common tin canister, waited
till the water in the open kettle was bubbling all over, and then threw
in the tea, lifted the kettle off, and stood it down.
"There," he said, "that's camp fashion. The old lady's going to bring
us something to drink it out of;" and as he spoke the settler's wife
brought in two tin pint mugs and a cracked and chipped basin, which she
banged roughly on the table.
Gunson gave me a peculiar look as the sour woman turned away.
"I say, Mrs--I don't know your name."
"Well, what is it now?" said the woman, in a vinegary tone. "I can't
spend all my time waiting on you."
"My dear madam, no," said Gunson, in the most gentlemanly way; "I only
wanted to say that a cup of good tea in this wilderness is a thing that
one may offer a lady, and as that is thoroughly prime China tea that I
have brought up from 'Frisco, will you do us the honour of trying a
cup?"
The change in the woman's countenance was wonderful. It softened; then
there was a smile, and her face looked quite pleasant.
"Well, really, that's very good of you," she said. "I'll go and get
myself a cup. A drop of good tea is such a treat out here."
She hurried out of the room, and Gunson laughed.
"Here, Gordon," he said, "get out that sugar you'll find in my bag. We
must do it well with company."
I brought forth a tin of sugar and placed it on the table, and Gunson
having tidied it a little by throwing the bacon rind away, and spreading
the mugs about, we sat listening to the sputtering of the bacon and
watching the flickering of the flames, which in the increasing darkness
began to gild and tinge the rough boarded walls with red.
Just then the woman came back, with two cups, a saucer, and another tin.
"I thought I'd bring you a cup to dip with," she said, "and a drop of
milk. A neighbour of ours ten miles up the river has got two cows, and
he brings me a little milk when he comes down to buy stores. He was
here this morning, so it's quite fresh."
A few minutes later, and our landlady had finished her cup of tea, which
she declared to be "lovely," while upon a second one being dipped she
took it up and carried it off, saying she was too busy to stay.
Left alone, we proceeded to discuss our own meal, slices of the
cake-like bread forming our plates, and our pocket-knives doing double
duty. Great draughts of hot tea washed down the bacon, and scarcely a
word was spoken till Esau sighed, and began to wipe and polish his big
new knife.
"Feel better, my lad?" said Gunson, smiling.
"Yes," said Esau, speaking rather reluctantly. "I am a bit better now."
"A bit? Why, you are like a new lad. Nothing like a good tea meal out
in the wilds, my lad, to put life into one. Why I've known days when
we've been ready to break down, or give up, or go back; then we've
formed camp, got a bit of fire on the way, boiled the kettle with a
pinch of tea in it, and eaten our cold bacon and damper, and been fit to
do anything after. So are you two. To-morrow morning you'll be ready
to make your start up the river, and this will be like your first lesson
in camping out."
"Which way are you going, sir?" said Esau, after a long silence, during
which we had been sitting gazing at the fire, but not until there had
been a general tidy up of our table.
"Nor'-east," said Gunson, laconically. Then in a very abrupt way, "Now
then, you've a hard day's work before you to-morrow, so roll yourselves
up in your blankets and go to sleep."
"Where?" I said. "She has not showed us our bedroom."
"No, because this is, as the old song says, `parlour and kitchen and
hall,' with sleeping accommodation included. There are plenty of fine
spreading spruces outside, though, if you prefer a bed there."
"Oh no," I said, as I began to realise that our journey now was going to
be very rough indeed; and thoroughly appreciating the value of the
blanket I had brought, I rolled myself in it, and lay down to think
wonderingly of where we should be to-morrow. I knew that I could not go
to sleep, but thought it better to obey Gunson in every way while he was
with us; and as I lay there, I saw him rise and stand thoughtfully
before the fire, while almost directly a sound arose from close by me as
if Esau was practising ventriloquism, and wanted to give a good
imitation of wood-sawing.
This grew so exasperating at last, that I should have kicked him to wake
him up if I had not been prevented by my blanket, which was twisted so
tightly round my legs that they would not move.
"I suppose he must be lying on his back," I remember thinking; and
directly after, as it seemed to me, when I looked at Gunson, whose
figure just before stood out big and black before the glowing fire, he
was not there.
I think I considered it rather strange, but I was under the impression
directly after that he had lain down too. Then there was a low, dull,
humming sound, which I knew came from the river, and then I was looking
up at Gunson, who was standing over me, with the fire lighting him on
one side, and the broad, warm glow of the rising sun on the other.