The Pine twenty-five Years ago.--Its rapid Disappearance.--Explorations.
--Outfit.--Up-river Journeying.--Its Distance.--Mode of Nightly
Encampment.--Cooking.--Disturbed Slumbers.--Ludicrous Fright.--Deer.
--Encounter with Bears.--Mode of Exploring.--Forest Observatory.--
Climbing Trees.--The Emotions excited by the View.--Necessity of
Compass.--Nature's Compass.--The Return.--Annoyances from mischievous
Bears.--Stumpage.--Permits.--Outfit and Return.--Crossing
Carrying-places.--A Strong Man.--Skill of Boatmen.--Item of personal
Experience.--Blind Path.--A Family in the Wilderness.--Things to be
considered in locating Camps.
Allusion has been made to the peculiarity of the Pine-tree in
associating together in clusters or families. It is now a rare thing
to find a sufficient quantity of timber in one of those clusters to
meet the demands of a team during the usual period of hauling, which
is about three months.
Twenty-five or thirty years ago, large tracts of country were covered
principally with Pine-trees. Those tracks seemed purposely located in
the vicinity of lakes, large streams, and rivers; a winter's work
could then be made contiguous to improved portions of the country,
which rendered little previous exploration necessary. But the
woodman's ax, together with the destructive fires which have swept
over large districts from time to time, have, so to speak, driven this
tree far back into the interior wilderness. In fact, the Pine seems
doomed, by the avarice and enterprise of the white man, gradually to
disappear from the borders of civilization, as have the Aborigines of
this country before the onward march of the Saxon race.
The diminished size and number of these Pine communities, near the
borders of civil and agricultural abodes, added to the fact that this
tree has been pursued to wild and unknown forest regions, renders
exploring expeditions previous to the commencement of a winter's
campaign absolutely indispensable, at least to insure success. This
labor is performed, more or less, at all periods of the year; but,
perhaps, the more general and appropriate time is found to be during
the earlier part of autumn. The work of exploring is often performed
during the winter, while the crews are on the ground, in camp. The
difficulty of traveling through deep snows is overcome by the use of
the snow-shoe, which enables the wearer to walk upon the surface of
the untrodden snow. This shoe is about three feet long by sixteen
inches wide, oval before and tapering to a point behind. It is simply
a flat net-work, made from thongs of green hide, surrounded by a
slender frame or bow of wood. This net-work is fastened, near the
middle, to the bottom of the boot, and the woodman, throwing himself
along, one side at a time, with a lengthened pace-like stride, passes
over the ground at a rapid rate.
When the business of timber-hunting is deferred until autumn, the
following method is practiced: Two or three men accustomed to the
business take the necessary provisions, which usually consists of
ship-bread, salt pork, tea, sugar, or molasses; for cooking utensils,
a coffee-pot or light tea-kettle, a tin dipper, sometimes a
frying-pan, a woolen blanket or two for bed-clothes, and an ax, with
gun and ammunition; all of which are put on board a _skiff_, if the
exploration is to be on the St. Croix, or on a _bateau_ if on the
Penobscot River, with two sets of propellers, setting-poles for
rapids, and paddles to be used on dead water.
With these slight preparations, away we start; now making our way up
the main river, then shooting along up the less capacious branches;
sometimes performing a journey of two hundred miles far into the
interior, in those solitudes which never before, perhaps, echoed with
the tones of the white man's voice. The location for our nightly
encampments are selected in time to make the necessary arrangements
for refreshment and repose, before the darkness shuts down over the
dense wilderness that surrounds us. Selecting a proper site near some
gushing spring, or where a murmuring streamlet plays along its
romantic little channel, we pitch our tent, which formerly consisted
of a slender frame of little poles, slightly covered on the top and at
each end with long boughs, the front entirely open, before which burns
the watch-fire, by whose light the deep darkness of a forest night is
rendered more solemn and palpable.
In some instances a large blanket is spread over the frame; and when
there are good reasons to expect rain, we haul our boat up, turn it
bottom side up, and crawl beneath it, this proving a sure protection
from the falling rain or dew. Of late, small portable tent-coverings
are used, which prove very convenient.
Next the evening meal is prepared. Here the tea is thoroughly boiled,
in the coffee-pot or tea-kettle, over the little fire. A thin slice of
salt pork is cut, and, running a sharp stick through it, it is held
over the fire and roasted, being withdrawn occasionally to catch the
drippings on a cake of pilot or ship bread. This is a good substitute
for buttered toast, the roasted pork making an excellent rasher.
Sometimes we ate the pork raw, dipping it in molasses, which some
relish; and though the recital may cause, in delicate and pampered
stomachs, some qualms, yet we can assure the uninitiated that, from
these gross simples, the hungry woodsman makes many a delicious meal.
After _pipe_ devotions (for little else ascends from forest altars,
though we have sometimes heard the voice of prayer even in the logging
swamps), we throw our weary limbs upon our boughy couches to seek
repose in the slumbers of night.
Sometimes our slumbers are disturbed by the shrill whooping of the
owl, whose residence is chosen in those lonely solitudes of dense
woodlands, where this ghostly watchman of the night makes the wild
wood reverberate with the echo of his whoo-ho-ho-whah-whoo! which is
enough, as one has observed, to frighten a garrison of soldiers. Few
sounds, I am certain, so really harmless in themselves, awaken such a
thrill of terror, as it breaks suddenly upon the ear during the
stillness and loneliness of the midnight hour.
As I lay one night encamped upon the banks of a small stream which
contributed its mite to the accumulating waters of the Penobscot
River, an opportunity presented itself of testing the strength of my
nerves. It was during the midnight hour, when even the trees seemed to
sleep profoundly. Not a zephyr moved a twig, and the silence which
reigned was painful. Rendered somewhat restless from the combined
circumstances of the previous day's labor and a hard bed, I lay musing
upon an account which I had formerly read of a midnight attack upon a
company of militia, during the sanguinary struggles of the Revolution,
by a party of savages. In the midst of my revery, I fancied that I
could almost hear the stealthy footsteps of the wily Indian, when a
sudden scream from a tree-top, nearly over the spot where I lay,
brought me upon my feet at a bound. Seizing my gun, I looked aloft to
see if I could discover the author of my sudden fright. By the light
of the fire which still burned in the front of the tent, I discovered
a pair of large eyes, resembling those of a cat. In an instant the
woods echoed with the sharp report of my gun, when down came his
owlship with a summerset to the ground. I have often listened to the
quaint old figure, "I was not brought up in the woods to be scared by
an owl," yet I think few can listen to the whooping of this solitary
bird in the solemnity and stillness of midnight without being
conscious of their susceptibility to emotions of fear, even though the
judgment is assured of the absence of all that could harm.
Sometimes the tramping of timid deer, attracted by the waning light of
our watch-fire, or some roving beast of prey, attracted by the savory
vapors of our evening meal, startle us from our slumbers. "Once, while
on a timber-hunting excursion," said a mess-mate, "on the east branch
of the Penobscot, the night being very mild, and feeling too much
fatigued to make the usual preparations for security, we built our
fire near the trunk of a large prostrate tree. When we laid down our
heads were near the fallen tree, which protected us somewhat from the
current of air, but we were without covering, except the spreading
branches of the trees. We had not lain long before we heard a heavy
tramping some little way off. It approached nearer and nearer, until
the animal seemed directly upon us.
"As I lay upon my back, I turned my eyes upward, when they met the
full gaze of a large bear, which stood with its fore paws on the log
directly over my head. In an instant I sprang upon my feet, and,
seizing a brand from the fire, I hurled it after him, at the same
instant making the woods tremble with the echo of my voice.
"Alarmed at my sudden motions, and more than all at the fiery
messenger, which emitted thousands of sparks as it whizzed along after
him, glancing from tree to tree in its course, at each concussion
emitting new volleys of fiery particles, without stopping to apologize
for his intrusion upon our sleeping apartment, he plunged into the
forest at full speed. By the rustling of dry leaves and the cracking
of fallen limbs, we could hear him a long way off, with unabated
energy fleeing from the object of his terror. Next morning we came
across an old she-bear and her cubs. We had a spirited little dog with
us, who instantly encountered the bear; but one blow from her paw
completely disabled him, and his injuries proved so serious that we
were obliged to kill the little fellow, much to our regret, for, of
all places in the world, the companionship of a good dog is most
valued in the woods. One of our men caught a cub; it struggled and
whined, which soon attracted the attention of the old one. She at once
rushed after him, and he was soon glad to drop his prize, but not
until the old dam had nearly torn his clothes from his back.
[Illustration: SHOOTING DEER.]
[Illustration: BLACK BEAR.]
"Arriving at length upon or near the territory to be explored, we haul
our bateau safely on shore, and turn it bottom upward. Then, dividing
our luggage into parcels, and making use of our blankets for
knapsacks, we begin to traverse the wild forests, unfrequented except
by the stately moose, the timid deer, the roaming black bear, and
other wild animals of less note, whom we frequently disturb in their
solitary haunts.
"The uneven surface of the country, together with the density of the
forest, circumscribe the range of vision. To overcome this impediment,
we ascend into the top of some lofty tree. Sometimes extensive views
of the surrounding forest are obtained from the side of abrupt ridges,
and from the top of a _Horseback_. This latter is an "extremely
curious ridge, and consists of sand and gravel, built up exactly like
the embankments for rail-roads, the slope on either side being about
30 deg., while it rises above the surrounding low lands" from thirty to
ninety feet. Dr. Jackson speaks of one in particular, between Weston
and Houlton, in the northeastern part of Maine, "the top of which is
perfectly level, and wide enough for two carriages to pass abreast."
"Its surface was originally covered with Maple, Birch, and hard
Pine-trees, while the low lands on either side are covered with a
dense growth of Cedars. I could not help thinking, as I looked upon
this natural embankment, that it would be easy for an antiquarian to
mistake this ridge for a work of art, and to suppose that some of the
aboriginal inhabitants of our country knew how to annihilate distance
by rail-roads. My first impression respecting the geological origin of
this embankment was that it was alluvial, and formed the bank on
intervening shores of two lakes which existed in the low tracts, now
covered with Cedars; but, on examining the nature of the materials of
which it is composed, I became satisfied that it belonged to the
formation of transported clay, sand, gravel, and bowlders, which is
called diluvium, consisting of the loose fragments of rocks that were
transported by a mighty current of water the last time the waters
prevailed over the land. The occurrence of similar embankments at
Houlton served to confirm this opinion, for there they had the same
north and south direction, a coincidence so remarkable that it could
not be the result of chance. The Horsebacks of New Limerick and
Houlton are much more elevated" (as indeed they are on the banks or a
little removed from the shores of the Mattawamkeag River), "and some
of them are said to rise to the height of ninety feet." "I can not
stop to speculate on the causes of this transportation of loose
materials, but I may say that there are abundant proofs, on the whole
face of this continent, that there has been a mighty rush of waters
over its surface from the north and northwest, and that such a current
has swept over the highest mountains of Massachusetts."
When it is necessary to obtain views from low lands, the obstructions
are overcome by ascending the highest trees. When an ascent is to be
made, the Spruce-tree is generally selected, principally for the
superior facilities which its numerous limbs afford the climber. To
gain the first limbs of this tree, which are from twenty to forty feet
from the ground, a smaller tree is undercut and lodged against it,
clambering up which the top of the Spruce is reached. In some cases,
when a very elevated position is desired, the Spruce-tree is lodged
against the trunk of some lofty Pine, up which we ascend to a height
twice that of the surrounding forest.
From such a tree-top, like a mariner at the mast-head upon the
"look-out" for whales (for indeed the Pine is the whale of the
forest), large "clumps" and "veins" of Pine are discovered, whose
towering tops may be seen for miles around. Such views fill the bosom
of timber-hunters with an _intense interest_. They are the object of
his search, his treasure, his _El Dorado_, and they are beheld with
peculiar and thrilling emotions. To detail the process more minutely,
we should observe that the man in the tree-top points out the
direction in which the Pines are seen; or, if hid from the view of
those below by the surrounding foliage, he breaks a small limb, and
throws it in the direction in which they appear, while a man at the
base marks the direction indicated by the falling limb by a compass
which he holds in his hand, the compass being quite as necessary in
the wilderness as on the pathless ocean.
In fair weather the sun serves as an important guide; and in cloudy
weather the close observation of an experienced woodsman will enable
him to steer a tolerably correct course by the moss which grows on the
trunks of most hard-wood trees, the north side of which are covered
with a much larger share than the other portions of the trunk. This
Indian compass, however, is not very convenient nor safe, particularly
in passing through swampy lands, which are of frequent occurrence.
After spending several days in scouring the wilderness in search of
the Pines, minutely examining their quality (for an experienced
lumberman can determine this with surprising certainty), calculating
the distance the logs may have to be hauled, and noting the surface of
the land through which the logging roads are to be cut, &c., we
retrace our steps to the landing, where the bateau has been left. Once
more our frail bark floats upon the dancing current of the stream,
gliding onward as if stimulated with the very joyousness of the
"homeward bound" voyagers. After several days' exploration on foot,
the boat ride is particularly welcome. In the realization of this,
however, we are sometimes sadly, even provokingly disappointed.
It is known to those versed in the habits of the black bear, that late
in the fall of the year they manifest an uncommon fondness for pitch
or resinous substances. In the course of my travels through the
forest, I have often seen Fir-trees which contained large quantities
of balsam, with their bark entirely stripped from the trunk by these
craving depredators. Under the impulses of this peculiar appetite,
they sometimes tear even our bateau to pieces for the tar with which
it is besmeared. If injured beyond the means of repair, we are
compelled to pursue our journey down on foot. Perchance we may
fortunately meet some Indian trapper with his frail canoe, which we
charter for a portion of the journey, until another boat, or means of
conveyance, can be secured. Were any of my readers ever on board the
Indian's bark canoe? Some, doubtless, have been, and such will bear me
out in the declaration that the voyager experiences emotions
peculiarly agreeable. As a conveyance, it seems to occupy a space
between riding and flying; not in respect to its speed, although this
is considerable when the paddle is vigorously applied, but its
fairy-like buoyancy quite dissipates the idea of one's gravity.
Having determined, during the exploration, upon the territory from
which we wish to cut and haul our logs, we proceed to obtain permits
from the state or proprietors, which secure the exclusive right to cut
timber within the bounds of the grant for a stipulated price; so much
per thousand feet, board-measure, which varies from one to eight
dollars _per M._, according to the quality of the timber and its
convenient location to the lake, river, or stream upon which it is to
be floated to market. Among other preliminaries which anticipate the
winter operations of lumbermen is the "putting up" of large quantities
of meadow hay.
Skirting the stagnant sections of rivers and streams, extensive strips
of meadow land spread back to the border of "uplands," whose outlines
are distinctly defined by immense forests which hem in these large
areas, sometimes embracing many thousands of acres. This intervale is
covered with a heavy growth of meadow grass. By this remarkable
arrangement, Nature has anticipated, as it would appear, the wants of
lumbermen in locating, and in preserving from the encroachments of the
forest, a plentiful supply of subsistence for the teams employed in
procuring lumber in its immediate vicinity, and far from the haunts of
civilized man.
To these wild and solemn retreats, where the dismal hooting of the
night-owl breaks upon the ear, and the sighing winds, as they pass
through the tall, waving grass, waft the distant howl of the wolf,
large crews of men resort, with the usual haying implements,
provisions, &c., for making and stacking the hay to be used during the
ensuing winter.
In the latter part of autumn these meadows are covered with water,
which finally freezes. It is therefore necessary to erect temporary
scaffolds, called more generally "staddles," upon which the hay is to
be piled in large stacks. These staddles are made of poles laid upon
cross-stakes or crutches, sufficiently high to protect the hay from
the water beneath. From these the hay is removed, sometimes in boats
before the waters freeze, and afterward upon sleds on the ice. When
the former method of transportation is adopted, two bateaus or skiffs
are placed side by side, small poles being thrown across them; the hay
is then loaded on this platform, and carried to the most convenient
landing, where it is reloaded and hauled on ox-sleds to the camp. If
the hay is removed upon the ice, the stacks are hauled away whole. The
mode of loading is simple; the central part of the scaffolding is cut
away, the sled shoved underneath, when the remaining props are cut
away, and the whole stack settles on to the sled, and is thus moved
off to the place of destination. This expeditious method of loading is
particularly convenient and desirable, as may be imagined when one
takes into consideration the biting winter winds which sweep across
these wide meadow fields.
Since agricultural interests have invited men far into the interior in
the vicinity of lumber berths, where large tracts of land have been
cleared up, less value is attached to, and less use made of meadow hay
than formerly, as English grass becomes more plenty, is more
available, and is much better in its quality.
A distinguishing characteristic of this kind of business is the
unceasing encounter by our lumbermen with the blood-thirsty millions
of flies who swarm and triumph over these sanguinary fields. In the
use of fire-arms these unvanquishable hosts are not skilled, to be
sure, but in a charge they are invincible. No amount of slaughter will
intimidate them. Though the sweeping hand of destruction annihilates
them by thousands, still, with full ranks, the contest is carried on
with unabated vigor, a respite only being afforded in rainy weather,
or when high winds prevail; then they retire from the field.
At night the musquito lancers take up the action--the Indian tribes of
the insect species--and all night they keep up their ceaseless
war-whoop, as they repeat their sallies upon the weary, disturbed
sleeper. No coat of mail is proof against the attacks of one species
of fly commonly called the midget, which is so small as to be almost
imperceptible to the naked eye. The black fly and the musquito can
only reach the exposed parts of the body, but to the midget every
portion is accessible. He insinuates himself under the collar, the
wristband, and through the texture of the garments, and the whole
region between the shirt and the skin is a field for his operations.
In one process of the haying operations, in particular, they are very
annoying. The hay, when cut, is carried in small cocks upon two poles
by two men to the scaffolding, for the purpose of being stacked. While
thus employed, with both hands engaged, millions of these little
invisibles insinuate themselves under the garments, and, whatever
interest or ambition may fail to do, by way of producing energetic
motion, the irritating smart of their bite abundantly makes up.
_Nolens volens_, the men thus employed dance to the tune of "_Midget's
meadow-hay jig_;" and when no longer able to resist the earnest
invitation to rub and scratch, which their irritating bite holds out,
down drop the poles, hay and all! Ah! let him who has experienced the
irritation, and the relief of furious friction, _think_--I'm sure he
may not pen it.
But, notwithstanding the labor and annoyances of meadow life, there
are pastimes and adventures to be met with. A shot now and then at
some stray deer who may chance to stroll upon the meadow to graze; the
hooking of beautiful trout, pickerel, and other delicious pan-fish,
afford agreeable relief from _ennui_; while the spoils of the forest
and the brook afford most agreeable changes of diet. Here, also, very
frequently are skirmishes had with the common black bear. If Bruin is
not intentionally pugnacious, he is really meddlesome; nay, more, a
downright trespasser--a regular thief--an out-and-out "no-government"
animal, who, though neither profane nor yet immoral, still, without
apostolical piety, would have "all things common." These peculiar
traits of character secure to him the especial attention of mankind,
and ever make him the object of attack. Though formidable as an enemy,
it is hard to allow him to pass, even if he be civilly inclined,
without direct assault. On one occasion, while two men were crossing a
small lake in a skiff, on their return from the meadows, where they
had been putting up hay, they discovered a bear swimming from a point
of land for the opposite shore. As usual in such cases, temptation
silenced prudential remonstrance; so, changing their course, they gave
chase. The craft being light, they gained fast upon the bear, who
exerted himself to the utmost to gain the shore. But, finding himself
an unequal match in the race, he turned upon his pursuers and swam to
meet them. One of the men, a short, thick-set, dare-devil sort of a
fellow, seized an ax, and the moment the bear came up, inflicted a
blow upon his head which seemed to make but a slight impression.
Before a second could be repeated, the bear clambered into the boat;
he instantly grappled the man who struck him, firmly setting his teeth
in the man's thigh; then settling back upon his haunches, he raised
his victim in the air, and shook him as a dog would a wood-chuck. The
man at the helm stood for a moment in amazement, without knowing how
to act, and fearing that the bear might spring overboard and drown his
companion; but, recollecting the effect of a blow upon the end of a
bear's snout, he struck him with a short setting-pole. The bear
dropped his victim into the bottom of the boat, sallied and fell
overboard, and swam again for the shore. The man bled freely from the
bite, and as the wound proved too serious to allow a renewal of the
encounter, they made for the shore. Medical aid was procured as soon
as possible, and in the course of six weeks the man recovered from the
effects of the bite. But one thing saved them from being upset; the
water proved sufficiently shoal to admit of the bear's getting bottom,
from which he sprang into the boat. Had the water been deep, the boat
must inevitably have been upset, in which case the consequences might
have been more serious.
It was on one of these haying occasions that a more startling but
harmless encounter with the elements was experienced. One afternoon,
about two o'clock, while several men were making their way up a small
stream on a branch of the Penobscot, their attention was suddenly
arrested by a sound which resembled distant thunder. Each moment the
noise grew more distinct, accompanied with a tremulous motion of the
earth. Still nearer and yet nearer it approached, with a rushing
sound, intermingled with loud reports. Between our boatmen and the
forest at the southwest spread an area of meadow land. Looking in this
direction, a dense column, rising high in the heavens, was seen
whirling in the distance, and approaching with incredible velocity.
They barely effected a landing when it came upon them. In an instant
their boat was hurled into the tops of the trees over their heads,
while they were able to retain their position by holding on to the
small undergrowth, and escaped unhurt. The hurricane, in its passage
across the meadow, seemed to lose its force, so that by the time it
reached the opposite side of the meadow its power was broken, and its
career of destruction ended. In its passage it laid a strip of forest
level some seventy rods wide and thirty miles long. No tree within
this limit withstood its fury. The toughest and stateliest mingled in
wildest confusion with blanched trunks, yielding sapling, and slender
undergrowth.
At the proper time, which varies in different localities, but
generally during the early part of fall, a more extensive outfit is
made for another up-river expedition, for the purpose of erecting
winter camps, clearing the main roads, and attending to such other
preliminaries as may be deemed necessary.
Several years ago the whole distance from our homes to the interior
was traveled by water, on which occasions heavy-laden boats were taken
up these rivers and streams, and across the lakes, an operation which
was both hazardous and laborious, particularly where the swift current
of rapids was to be overcome, and when it became necessary to carry
the boat and cargo around impassable falls--a frequent occurrence, the
river in some places being nothing but one continuous succession of
rapids for miles. In some places, to save the labor of "carrying by,"
attempts are made to shove the boats up fearful rapids, where a single
mistake or false maneuver would swamp them. A lively little incident
of this kind is quoted below, from Doctor Jackson's account of an
excursion up the Penobscot on the business of a geological survey of
the state.
"While we were engaged in exploring the rocks (at Grindstones Falls),
our men tried to shove the boat up the falls, but the violence of the
current prevented their effecting their object, the boat being
instantly filled and sunk in the attempt, while all our baggage and
provisions that remained on board were swept off and carried down the
stream. A scene of unwonted activity now ensued in our endeavors to
save our articles, as they were rapidly borne down the foaming waters.
The boat, fortunately, was not much injured, and we succeeded in
hauling it upon a rock, and bailed out the water, after which we gave
chase to our lost articles, and succeeded in saving those that were
most essential to our safety. The bread-barrel, although scuttled, was
but half full of bread, and floated down stream with its opening
uppermost, so that but little of it was injured. Our bucket of rice
burst open and was lost. The tea-kettle and other cooking apparatus
sank in the river, and were fished up by a hook and line. The tent was
found about a mile down the river, stretched across a rock. The maps
and charts were soaked with water, so that it required as much labor
and patience to unroll them as the papyri of Herculaneum. Our spare
boots and shoes were irrecoverably lost. Having rescued the most
important articles from the water, we carried by the falls, camped,
and dried our papers and provision, being thankful that no worse an
accident had befallen us. Fortunately, we had taken the precaution to
remove our surveying instruments and the blankets from the boat before
the falls were attempted.
"Having kindled a camp-fire and dried ourselves, a storm of rain began
to pour around us; but our great fire was not easily damped, and we
passed a comfortable night beneath the shelter of a water-proof tent.
"The Penobscot boatmen are well skilled in the art of camping in a
comfortable manner, and soon prepare their fire for the night, make a
bed of boughs, and pitch the tent in such a manner as to afford a
complete shelter. Having partaken of our meal, we reposed upon the
boughs spread upon the earth, our feet being turned toward the fire.
This being our first encampment for the season, the novelty of the
scene prevented sleep; the night was very pleasant, and the broad
moon, slowly descending in the west, added her effulgence to beautify
the scene, her image being reflected by the rippling waters, while
various contrasts of light and shade from the dense foliage, and the
pale moonbeam and glaring red camp-fire, gave an effect full of
beauty, and worthy the attention of an artist.
"Amid pleasant scenes, we are, however, subject to contrasts of a less
agreeable kind; and here our Indian, while cutting wood, suffered a
severe accident; his hatchet, accidentally slipping, was driven deeply
into his leg between two bones, so as to expose the anterior tibial
artery. I was then called upon in my surgical capacity, and, having my
instruments with me, dressed his wound in the usual manner, and early
next morning we took him to Maltanawcook Island, where we made
arrangements with another Indian, Louis Neptune, to supply his place
while he was recovering from his wound."
These difficulties of transportation have been somewhat abated by the
construction of roads, which penetrate much nearer to lumber berths
than formerly, and enable us to convey our provisions, implements, and
even boats, with horse-teams, a considerable portion of the distance
once laboriously performed by water. I am not familiar with any kind
of labor which tests a man's physical abilities and powers of
endurance more than boating supplies up river. The labor of carrying
by falls, and portages from lake to lake, imposes a heavy tax upon the
body. Barrels of pork, flour, and other provisions, too heavy for one
man to carry alone, are slung to a pole by the aid of ropes, one man
being at either end, and thus we clamber, under our heavy burdens,
over rocks, the trunks of fallen trees, slippery roots, and through
mud-sloughs, sometimes without any path, through the thickets and
groves of trees. The boat is turned bottom upward, the gunwales
resting upon the shoulders of three men, two abreast near the bows,
and one at the stern. In this position we pass over the same route
through which the provisions have been carried to the next landing,
where the goods are again reshipped, and we proceed by water on lake
or stream, with the alternate routine of paddling, poling, and
lugging, until the place of destination is reached.
Persons wholly unacquainted with river navigation can have but an
imperfect idea of the skill as well as nerve brought into requisition
in taking a heavy-laden bateau, skiff, or canoe up over rapids. Let
such a person stand upon the banks of the river, and survey some
places over which these frail boats, loaded to the gunwale, pass, and
he would not only regard the thing as exceedingly difficult and
hazardous, but as altogether impossible; with the inexperienced it
would, indeed, be both, but our skillful watermen will perform it with
the greatest dexterity. Should any traveler chance to take an up-river
trip with those boatmen, I am quite sure his observations would
confirm my statement respecting them. I am happy to add here the
testimony of Dr. Jackson, who had an opportunity to witness their
skill: "Those who have never been on such a journey would be surprised
at the dexterity of the Penobscot boatmen as they drive their frail
bateau through the rapids and among dangerous rocks. The slightest
failure on their part, on passing the numerous water-falls, would
place the lives of those on board in imminent peril, and the traveler
has good reason to be thankful if the boat by their care is saved from
being overturned or sunk in the river.
"When the waters rush down a rapid slope of smooth and round rocks,
forming what are called gravel-beds, the most strenuous exertions of
the boatmen are required to stem the current, and not unfrequently
their 'setting' poles are caught between the rocks, so as to be jerked
from their grasp. Bateaux are navigated up stream by means of slender
poles of spruce, about twelve or fifteen feet in length, armed with an
iron point, confined by a ferule or iron band around its extremity.
One boatman stands in the bow and braces his foot against the stern as
he labors; the other stands in the stern, and they both pole on the
same side as they proceed up the margin of the stream. Descending the
river, they make use of paddles." However, the depth to which these
frail boats are loaded, in which condition they pass through rough
waters and wide lakes, where the wind is liable in a few minutes to
raise high waves, can not be regarded as prudent, with all their
matchless skill in navigating.
When I call to mind the intemperate habits to which most lumbermen in
times past were addicted, I am surprised that no more accidents have
occurred while navigating our rivers.
I shall not soon forget the perilous circumstances in which I was once
placed, in company with others, while taking a deeply laden skiff up
to the head waters of the St. Croix.
Having safely passed the rapids of the river, we embarked upon the
Lake Che-pet-na-cook, up which we paddled about twenty miles to the
portage, over which we had to carry our effects to Grand Lake, distant
some two miles. By the time we had accomplished these moves the
shadows of a September evening began to gather around us, giving a
peculiar tint to the large sheet of water before us, which spread to
the north some twenty-five miles, with an expanse east and west of
about six miles, washing a portion of the shores of Maine on the west,
and the province of New Brunswick on the east.
The point of destination lay about half way up the lake on the
American side. Our boat was deeply laden with men and provisions; of
the former there were seven in number. A light wind from the east
caused a gentle ripple upon the surface of the waters, which induced
us to hug the easterly shore pretty closely. We proceeded slowly, and
when it became necessary to change our course in order to cross the
lake, night had nearly settled down upon the waters, leaving only
sufficient light to reveal the opposite shore, which stretched along
the verge of the horizon, presenting the appearance of a long, dark
cloud settling upon the borders of the lake.
We had plenty of new rum on board, which was used at stated intervals,
as, according to the faith of nearly every man in those days, it gave
to the arm more vigor in the necessary labor of plying the paddle. It
soon became evident that one of our number had imbibed too freely, to
the imminent hazard of our lives. The reader may easily imagine our
perilous condition under such circumstances. Our frail skiff was about
eighteen feet long, and four feet across the top of the gunwale
amid-ships, tapering to a point at either end, constructed of thin
slips of pine boards nailed to some half dozen pair of slender knees
about two inches in diameter. On board were some fifteen hundred
pounds of provisions, with seven men, which pressed her into the water
nearly to the gunwale; three inches from the position of a level, and
she would fill with water.
As men usually are quite insensible to danger when in liquor, so was
it with "_Dan_" in this instance. Too comfortable in his feelings to
keep still, as indeed was indispensable to the most steady among us,
he kept constantly lurching about, and periling us with a capsizing
repeatedly. He was admonished in the most pressing and peremptory
manner to keep quiet; but in his drunken idiocy he became a terror,
and it was manifest that something must be done to insure our safety.
Our paddles hung powerless over the sides of the frail thing which
buoyed us upon the surface of the deep water; to advance seemed too
uncertain and dreadful, while the darkness rested down deeper upon the
lake. A hasty consultation was held upon the propriety of putting back
to the shore, when the drunken wretch gave a sudden lurch, which
settled the gunwale under water! "My God! we are gone!" shouted some
half dozen voices at the instant. However, by a counter-motion we
raised the submerged gunwale from sinking further. In an instant our
helmsman was upon his feet, and, raising his paddle in a most menacing
attitude over the head of the intoxicated man, "D--n you!" said he,
"if you move again I'll split your skull open!" The threat was
terrible, and he would have cleft his head open in an instant. I
expected he would strike, for our lives depended upon quieting him in
some way; but the fellow seemed to awake to our perilous condition,
and slunk down into the bottom of the boat. We put about instantly for
the shore, and in a few moments touched the beach. With a willing step
I placed my feet on terra firma once more.
It was then determined that part of the crew should remain, while the
others should cross the lake, unload the provisions, and return for
those left behind. Four men were accordingly left, and I was glad to
make one of the number, though left upon a wild and unfrequented spot,
without food or shelter, with the prospect of spending the greater
portion of the night there, even should the rest of the crew make a
successful trip; and, in the event of their being swamped, a thing by
no means impossible, for sometimes the wind suddenly rises, and in a
very short time lashes the lake into foaming waves, in which case the
skiff could not live, then the circuit of the lake must be performed,
and days must elapse before relief could be obtained; but still, with
these certainties and probable contingencies before us, we were glad
to feel mother earth under the soles of our feet. By the time these
matters had been fixed, the darkness had shut out the western shore
entirely from view; our comrades, therefore, only shaped their course
by the fire which we had kindled upon the shore, and which we kept
burning by a constant supply of brush and the most inflammable wood
that could be procured.
Not having had much experience in the wilderness at this time, and
never under such peculiar circumstances, I felt somewhat timid and
apprehensive, as we were far from relief and the abodes of
civilization, and in a region where bears, wolves, and a dangerous
specimen of the feline species, known by woodsmen as the "Indian
devil," had prowled from time immemorial. From the manner in which my
exiled companions piled the brush on the fire, I suspected, also, that
they had some confidence in its protective power. The night was cold,
but by our exertions to keep up a brilliant fire, and copious draughts
of black pepper tea, which we made in a little kettle, we kept quite
comfortable. This process lasted until two o'clock in the morning,
when the boat returned for us, having twice crossed the lake, in all
twelve miles. We stepped on board, and at four o'clock her third trip
across during the night was finished. One half mile from the shore,
surrounded by an almost unbroken wilderness, stood a log cabin,
tenanted by a man with his family, who had settled down for the
purpose of clearing up a farm. At the time we landed the sky was
overcast with dense clouds, and the darkness was so intense that I
could not see an inch before my nose; I felt the force of that trite
old proverb, "It's always darkest just before day." To the above-named
cabin we were piloted through a dense forest, which was interlaced
with a thick growth of underbrush. We made our way along as entirely
unassisted by vision as though there were no such thing. By the aid of
a constant hallooing, which was kept up at the log cabin, we made a
direct course; and, after an untold number of stumbles over old
wind-falls, and jibes from the limbs, knots, and protruding boughs of
trees, we reached the object of our solicitude hungry and much
fatigued. Here, however, the hospitable inmates had anticipated our
wants; a good meal of bread, baked beans, and pork, with coffee, was
in waiting; and after heartily participating of the same, we threw
ourselves upon a coarse bed, and were soon lost in a profound and
undisturbed sleep. When we awoke the shades of night had entirely
disappeared, the sun shone beautifully, and our ears were saluted with
the wild notes of a thousand feathered songsters, whose sweet
warblings lent a peculiar enchantment to the woodland scenery which
skirted the shores of the lake, so strikingly in contrast with our
dismal introduction the night previous, that we almost fancied
ourselves awaking up in some fairy land.