A canoe, may she be a 16-foot cruiser or a 22-foot freighter, is at all
times a small craft, especially on a lake when the nearest shore happens
to be a very long distance off.
Men who live in the far North pass all their time on the water as soon
as the ice disappears in the spring. They are so accustomed to their
cranky canoes that it never occurs to them to bother about what they
should do if, by any chance, something unusual happens. But in case of
emergency they think and act very quickly. I had an example of it a few
years ago on Abitibi Lake.
Two Indians were freighting a heavy load of hardware in a birch bark
canoe. They had a head wind and the waves were pretty high. The man at
the bow thought the canoe was packed too much by the stern and shouted
over his shoulder to the steersman to shift some of the load forward.
The latter, from his seat in the stern, seized a 25-pound bag of shot at
his feet and threw it five feet or so in front of him towards the middle
of the canoe. The bag landed in an empty space right at the bottom of
the canoe. The craft was old and rotten. The bag of shot simply broke
the ribs, tore a gaping hole in the birch bark and disappeared straight
down to the bottom of the lake.
[Illustration: A birch bark canoe]
Instantly the water started pouring in. One mile from shore, a nasty sea
running and a leak larger than a man’s head which would fill and sink
any canoe in a few minutes.
The steersman gave one yell and then jumped like a huge frog, landing in
a sitting position right in the middle of that hole. He stuck there,
shivering, with water to his waist, until the bowman, realizing the
danger and paddling madly for shore, succeeded at last in beaching the
canoe high and dry.