JACK MEETS A SEAL PIRATE
From the camp at Twin Falls the course was southeast, and passing
between Captain and Nelson Islands the canoe entered Agamemnon Channel.
Early in the afternoon they came out on Malaspina Straits. A fresh
breeze carried the canoe along at a good rate of speed, and in the
evening camp was made on the mainland, a little beyond Merry Island.
The following day, as they were approaching an Indian village, situated
near the point where the trail from the head of Seechelt Inlet came
down to the shore of the Gulf, they saw a trading schooner anchored off
it. Provisions were growing low, and it was determined to visit the
vessel and see whether food could be purchased. As they paddled toward
it, a dog which was running up and down the deck barked loudly at them
in seeming salutation, and they saw the figure of a man watching them
from the stern. Presently they were near enough to hail him, and he
invited them to come aboard, which they did. The Indians remained in
the canoe, and kept it from rubbing against the schooner's side.
The man was a splendid, big, hearty young fellow, but a cripple, having
lost his leg just below the knee. He talked with them about where they
had been, what they had done and seen, and spoke of the vessel's owner,
who had gone inland with a back load of trade goods, to try to secure
some furs that were said to be at an Indian camp some miles inland.
"I ought to have gone with him," he said, "but you see I can't get
around very easily with only one leg. In this country there is so much
moisture and so many rocks, that it's pretty hard for a man to get
around at all. He needs two legs, and good ones at that. I can't walk
far or long, and this confounded pin of mine sometimes gets stuck in
the soft ground or wedged between rocks, and keeps me anchored until I
can pull it out. So, really, I am no good except to keep shop and help
to work the ship. It seems mighty good to see the white folks again; we
have been out all summer, and I've not seen anybody except the Indians,
and I don't care much for them.
"Now, you two," he said, as he pointed to Jack and Hugh, "you come from
my country. This man," he said, pointing to Fannin, "belongs here. He
is a Canuck."
"You are an American, sir?" asked Jack.
"Yes," said the man, "I am an American; just about as much American as
anybody can be. I come from the state of Maine, and that's about as far
east as the United States goes."
"That's so," said Jack. "The old Pine Tree State is a great state."
"Right you are, young fellow," said the man. "She's a great state, and
she has sent out some good men; it's a pity I wasn't one of them--but
I wasn't. My name is Crocker, and I was born right near the shore,
and have been a fisherman and a sailor all my life. The worst luck
ever happened to me was when I drifted along this coast and kept on
sailoring here. This is the way that I lost my leg."
"Well," said Hugh, "that was sure a piece of bad luck. I should think
on one of these boats a man would need two good legs, just as much as
he does on a horse. I have seen some one-legged men who could ride all
right, but they were never so sure in the saddle as if they had two
legs."
"No, I expect not," said Crocker. "I would have had two good legs right
now if I hadn't come round on this coast and took to sealing."
"Why," exclaimed Jack, "how did sealing make you lose your leg?"
"Well," said Crocker, "it was in this way: I made two or three voyages,
as mate of a sealing schooner,--first with Indians, and then with Japs.
The last voyage we made with the Indians we didn't get any skins, and
the captain proposed to me that we cross over to Japan, and get a crew
of Japs and then go north to the Commander Islands, and make a raid on
them, and steal seals from the Russians. Of course I said it was a go,
and just before the next season began we went over and got a crew of
ten Japs and sailed.
"When we came in sight of the islands we found that there was a Russian
gun-boat anchored near them, and so we stood out to sea for two or
three days, and then, going back to the islands, we found the gun-boat
had gone. Now we thought we had a sure thing on a load of seal skins.
We sailed in pretty close to the shore, and then I took a boat and six
Japs and we started in for the beach, the schooner standing off, just
outside the rocks. As we rowed in towards the beach we could see that
the rookery was a big one and that seals were plenty. It seemed as if
things were going our way. We pulled in hard toward the rookery, and
just as the boat was going to ground and the bowman got ready to hold
her off a lot of Russian soldiers raised their heads up over the bluff
and fired at us.
"It was about the first bunch of soldiers I ever saw that could hit
anything; but they certainly hit us. Four of the Japs were killed at
the first firing. One more was shot through the lungs and another
through the thigh, breaking the bone. I got a shot through this leg,
below the knee. I tried mighty hard to push off so as to get away, but
the soldiers ran down to the beach and into the water, caught the boat
and hauled it ashore. They threw the Japs overboard, for both of the
wounded ones died pretty soon, and they carried me up onto the bluff
and over to the little houses where the sealers lived.
"You see these Russian soldiers didn't care anything about the Japs,
but they treated me pretty well. They gave me a good bed and tried to
set my leg, but both bones were badly smashed, and I made up my mind
that without a doctor there if they tried to set the leg they would
make a botch of it, and the leg would go bad and I would croak. So
after a day or two I picked out one of the nerviest of the chaps and
had him take my leg off. He didn't know what to do, but I sat up and
helped him, saw that the arteries were taken up right and tied, and
that the bone was squarely sawed off, with good flaps left that were
sewed up. Three or four days after the leg was gone the gun-boat came
back and her surgeon came ashore. He looked at the leg, dressed it,
and said that it was a good job, and that he wondered that any of
those soldiers had known how to take a leg off like that. You see, he
could talk a little English and good French, and I could talk a little
French and good English, so we got on pretty well. He seemed to take a
kind of a shine to me, too, and after I got a little strength he had
me brought on board the ship, and after a little while we sailed for
Petropaulovski. Before we got there I learned from something that he
said that the soldiers had told him about my sitting up and telling
them how to take off the leg. He seemed to think that was a great thing.
"When we got to town they carried me ashore and up to the jail and took
me in. But before they had fairly got me locked up, the doctor, who
had left the ship before I did, came in and showed the governor of
the jail an order, and then I was taken to a mighty comfortable house,
and stopped there for quite some time. The doctor used to come in two
or three times a day and talk to me. Finally I got able to get up and
be around, and by that time the doctor had had a carpenter make me a
wooden leg; so I pegged around with that leg and a cane, and got to
having a pretty good time; but, of course, I didn't know what they were
going to do with me.
"There was a prince in town, a Russian prince. He was the head, so
they said, of the Russian Fur Company. Once or twice he sent for me
and questioned me about the seal stealing, and I told him all I knew,
for there wasn't any use of making any secret of it. He seemed to be a
pretty good sort of a fellow, and at length one day, after I had been
there some months--it was winter, and mighty cold at that, you bet--he
said to me: 'I ought to send you to the mines, but I don't believe you
would be very useful there, with that one leg of yours, and I think the
best thing to do with you in spring, when the weather opens, is to send
you to Yokohama on some vessel.' Of course I didn't have any ambition
to go to the mines, and I was mighty glad to be let off as easy as
that. So when spring came, they found a little schooner that was going
to sail to Japan, and they put me on board of it, and off I went. And
what do you think that prince did? Just as I was going to step into
the boat to be carried out to the schooner he suddenly appeared, shook
hands with me, and wished me good luck and handed me a little canvas
bag, which was pretty heavy, and said: 'Take good care of that, and
make it go as far as you can'; and, by Jove! when I opened that bag and
counted what was in it there was six hundred dollars.
"That doctor and that prince," he said slowly, as he rubbed his chin,
"were mighty good to me. They treated me white. I wish though that the
doctor had got around to the island four or five days before he did,
and maybe I would have two legs now."
They had listened with much interest to the sealstealing story, and
Jack was anxious to ask Crocker many questions about the strange
animals that he must have seen during his voyage in the North Pacific,
when he followed the seal herds after they left the islands, and about
the great journey that the seals make south and west and east and north
again, back to their starting point. But Fannin was anxious to get on,
and after he had purchased from Crocker the provisions they needed,
with a hearty handshake and with many good wishes the canoe travellers
stepped over the side and pushed off.
The next morning was notable for the passage of the canoe through
multitudes of black sea ducks, which Jack said were coots. The flock,
or succession of flocks, were as numerous as those observed some weeks
before off Comox Spit. There must have been many thousands of these
birds scattered over several miles of water, and continually rising as
the canoe disturbed them, either flying back over it or off to one side.
Late in the afternoon the travellers, as usual, began to look for a
camping place along the shore, and for some time without success.
The rocky shores rose straight up from the water and seemed very
inhospitable; but at length a little bay, the most encouraging place in
sight, invited the tired travellers to investigate it, and it was found
that, although the little beach was almost everywhere piled high with
driftwood, there was a narrow pebbly place where, by squeezing up close
together, there would be room enough for the white men to sleep. A tiny
trickle of water through a streak of wet moss ran down each side toward
the bay, and it seemed that camp might be made here. The canoe was
unloaded and its cargo carried up over the raft of floating drift logs
to the beach. A little hole was scraped in the sand to catch the water
that fell, drop by drop, from crevices in the rock. The largest stones
were removed from the spot where the beds were to be spread, and a fire
was kindled.
Long ago there had fallen from the shelf of the cliff, many feet above
the beach, a giant fir tree, whose roots still rested where they had
always been, and whose top was supported by the bottom of the bay. The
spot where the beds were to be spread was directly beneath this leaning
stick of timber, which, as it was six or eight feet through, would even
offer a little shelter in case it should rain that night. Charlie,
however, suggested that this was not a safe place for the white man
to sleep, as during the night the tree might fall and crush them. But
the other men laughed at him, and pointed out to him that as the stick
had never changed its position for forty or fifty years, the chances
were that it would not break or slip on this particular night. Charlie
said that this might be true and went about his cooking. His spirits,
however, were not high, for, even with what had just been bought from
Crocker, the provision box was still very light. The fresh meat had
been nearly all eaten, the baking powder had all been used, there was
left nothing but a little bacon, a few cans of tomatoes, some flour,
coffee, and raisins. To relieve the impending famine, Jack and Fannin
went up on the hills to look for game, and, although they had found
no deer, they started three or four grouse, of which two were secured
and brought to the camp for the next morning's breakfast. As the party
turned into their blankets that night Charlie looked at the great stick
of timber which overhung them and said: "Well, I hope we'll be alive in
the morning."
"Oh," said Hugh, "you go to bed, Charlie; you're like a cow-puncher I
once knew. He called himself a fatalist, and said that he believed
'whatever was to be would be, whether it happened so or not.'"
Fannin said: "The only thing I am afraid of for to-night is that maybe
this tide will rise so high that it will drown us out, and we will be
floated off among this drift."
When they turned in, the fire, by which dinner had been cooked, was
still glowing brightly under the old drift log against which Charlie
had built it; and the only sound heard in camp was the lapping of the
water against the beach.
That night Jack had a curious dream. He thought that he was asleep in
his room at his home in Thirty-eighth street, when suddenly he was
awakened by a bright light, and, rushing to the window, saw that the
house across the street was blazing and that a number of policemen
clad in white were dancing in front of the fire. As he watched them,
and wondered anxiously about the fire, the smoke from the house
seemed to turn and move in a thick cloud straight into his window,
causing him to choke and cough. At this Jack awoke, and sitting up in
his blanket he saw the great drift log, against which the fire had
been built, glowing like a furnace. Charlie, clad only in his shirt
and drawers, was darting about with a bucket of water in his hands,
dashing it on the flames. The fire was soon put out; and next morning,
on reckoning up their losses, it was found that they were not very
serious. A few cooking utensils, a towel or two, and a coat were the
only things seriously damaged. If the fire had burned a little longer
and communicated itself to the rest of the drift stuff, the members of
the party might have been very uncomfortable, and their loss might have
been serious.
When they started the next morning, the surface of the water was smooth
and unbroken. There was no breath of air, and great clouds obscured
the sky. Before them was seen the white lighthouse of Port Atkinson,
and on either side of the channel they were following rose a low,
rock-bound, fir-fringed coast. Here, for almost the first time since
the trip had been begun, no striking mountain ridges or snow-capped
peaks were seen. The tide was running straight against them, and they
had to work hard to advance at all. After they had passed the Port
Atkinson lighthouse the Inlet broadened and spread out over wide
flats. The canoe kept close to the shore, to avoid the ebbing tide,
and startled from the grassy shore a number of blue herons which were
resting or fishing at the water's edge. Sometimes, as they rounded a
little point, a group of hogs were encountered, eagerly rooting in
the bare flats for shell-fish. The first one of these groups that he
saw astonished Jack, because the hogs were accompanied by a number
of crows. About each hog, on the ground or resting on its back, or
flying about it with tumultuous cries, were three or four black-winged
attendants, which wrangled bitterly over the fragments of fish that the
pig unearthed and failed to secure. Sometimes a crow would pounce on
a clam or other edible morsel actually under the nose of the hog, and
would snatch it away before the hog realized what was happening.
"Fannin," said Hugh, as they were passing along, "does this sort of
thing happen regularly? Do these crows follow the hogs around all the
time?"
"No," said Fannin, "crows know too much for that. They only get
together and follow them when they come down to the flats looking for
clams. They have learned that the hogs turn up a great deal of stuff
that they themselves like; and they have become regular attendants on
them. You know it isn't so very long since they didn't have any loose
hogs in this country. It is only within the last few years that they
have turned them out to look out for themselves."
"Well," said Hugh, "of course there's lots of difference in size, but
these crows flapping about these hogs remind me more than anything of
the way the buffalo birds act out on the prairie. They are just as
familiar and at home with the buffalo and cattle and horses as these
crows are with the hogs here."
"It's comical," said Fannin, "how familiar any set of birds will get
with animals and people or anything else, just as soon as they find
that they don't hurt them."
They were now at the mouth of Burrard Inlet and had only a few miles
more to go before reaching Hastings where Fannin lived, and where their
canoe voyage would end. They had been about a month afloat.
The sand flats, over whose shoal waters the canoe was passing, seemed
to be the home of a multitude of flat fish or flounders. They lay on
the bottom, and so closely resembled it in color that it was impossible
at the distance of a few feet to distinguish them from the sand. The
fish remained absolutely motionless until the bow of the canoe was
within two or three feet of them; and then they swam quickly away with
a flapping motion that did not seem to carry them off very rapidly as
compared with the arrow-like darting motions of most fish; but they
stirred up a cloud of sand and mud that effectually concealed them.
"These flat fish are mighty queer animals, Mr. Fannin," remarked Jack.
"They don't look to me like anything I have ever seen before in the
world."
"No," said Fannin, "I guess they are not. They are mighty queer kind of
fish; and, if I understand it right, they are all skewed around."
"How do you mean?" asked Jack.
"Why," said Fannin, "I understand when they are hatched they are right
side up like other fish; but soon after that they have to lie on their
side. That covers one of their eyes, and that eye works its way up
through the head onto the top; so that, as a matter of fact, the two
eyes on a flat fish which you see when you are looking down on him are
both of them looking out of the same side of the head. What looks to
you and me like the back, is really his side, and what looks to you and
me like his white belly is really his other side. I don't understand
about it very clearly, but there's a man back East who has worked that
whole thing out. Somebody sent me a copy of his paper one time, and I
guess I have got it somewhere in the shop now."
Before night had come the canoe had gone up the Inlet to Fannin's shop.
Here they went ashore, and that night, for the first time in weeks,
sat down at a table and slept in beds. It was learned at Hastings that
the Indians were catching a good many salmon at the head of the North
Arm; and it was proposed that instead of ending the trip here, the
canoe should keep on up the Arm and see the fishing. The next morning,
therefore, they went on up the Inlet.
On the way they met three canoe loads of returning Indians, and each
canoe was piled high with beautiful silvery salmon, weighing eight or
ten pounds each, which the Indians had caught with spears and gaffs in
the Salmon River. Fannin, who spoke with the Indians, told the others
that this was the fishing party, and that now there were no Indians at
the head of the North Arm. It was, nevertheless, decided to go up there.
When they reached the mouth of the river they found the tide lower
than it had been when they had been there some weeks ago; but soon it
commenced to rise, and as the water deepened they began to pole the
canoe up the stream, though frequently all hands were obliged to jump
overboard and push and lift the canoe over the shoals and into the
deeper water. As the tide continued to rise this became necessary less
frequently, and before long the water was so good that they could push
along with but little effort. During the passage up the shallow stream
many salmon were seen in the clear water--fine, handsome fish, dark
blue above; sometimes showing, as they darted away from the approaching
canoe, the gleaming silver of their shapely sides.
The sight of these beautiful fish greatly excited Jack, and several
times he struck at them with his paddle, but always miscalculated the
distance, and could never feel even that he had touched a fish. At
length he called out: "Mr. Fannin, can't we stop here and try to catch
some of these fish? They are so big and splendid that I want to get
hold of one."
"Oh," said Fannin, with a laugh, "wait a bit. You are going to a place
where you'll see a hundred for one that you see now."
"Well," said Jack, rather grumblingly, half to himself and half to
Hugh, "I suppose he is right, but it seems as if we might stop right
here and catch some of them. The sight of these fish is enough to make
any man a fisherman right off."
Again he called out: "Do you think we will be able to catch any fish
to-night?"
"Yes," said Fannin; "I think that with the spear or the gaff we ought
to get all we want."
"But just think," said Jack, "what fun it would be to catch one of
these with a rod. It looks to me as if they would break any tackle that
we have."
"No," said Fannin, "you can't catch them on a hook when they get into
the fresh water. I thought I had told you that before. The salmon in
fresh water will not take a hook. They will take one in the salt water,
but as soon as they enter the river, no. I'll tell you about that
to-night when we get into camp."
After several hours' work the canoe reached a point in the river where
there was a high jam of drift logs, which it was impossible to pass.
The sticks of the jam were too large to be chopped through, and the
canoe was far too large to be carried about the jam to a point farther
up the river; besides, it was well on toward sundown. Camp was made
therefore on a smooth sandbar just below the jam, and in a short while
the spot had assumed a comfortable, home-like appearance. On the shore
of the river was a rather neatly built shed, which had evidently been
recently occupied by Indian fishermen. This served as a storehouse
for provisions and the mess kit, and a sleeping place for Charlie and
the Indians. A little farther up the stream was placed the white tent
fly, closed at the back with an old sail and in front with a mosquito
netting. Near the storehouse a cheery fire crackled against an old
cedar log, and on the beach, farther down, drawn out of the water, was
the canoe.
After dinner was over, and when they were sitting about the fire, Jack,
whose mind was still full of the salmon he had seen, addressed Fannin.
"Now, Mr. Fannin, what more can you tell me about the salmon not taking
bait in the fresh water? I believe you spoke to me about it when we saw
our first salmon, but I have forgotten what you said."
"Well," said Fannin, "I can't tell you why they do not feed in fresh
water, but all fishermen say that they do not, and it is certain that
none of them are caught on a hook after they begin to run up a stream.
Down in California, where the rivers are all muddy, people explain
their refusal to feed by saying that in those waters the fish cannot
see the fly or bait, and so do not take it; but such an explanation
will not answer for a clear-water stream such as the one we are on. You
must have noticed that the water here to-day was as pure and clear as
in any trout stream you ever fished."
"Yes," said Jack, "I don't see how anything could be clearer than this
water; and I am sure the fish could see the bait or a fly."
"Yes," said Fannin, "they certainly could; and if they wanted a fly
they would rise to it. There's a man down here at Moody's Mills who is
a great fisherman, and he has fished in these streams for trout and
salmon for fourteen years. He says that in all that time he has hooked
a salmon only twice, and he believes in each of these cases the fish
accidentally fouled the hook. No; when the fish get into the fresh
water, they seem to forget everything except their desire to get up to
the head of the water and spawn."
"Well," said Jack, "Eastern salmon come into the stream to spawn just
as these fish do. They also try to get to the heads of the rivers for
this one purpose; yet we all know that the fishermen go salmon fishing,
and expect to catch salmon on the Atlantic coast just at the time that
the fish are running up the river, and we know that they do catch them,
big ones, running, I believe, up to thirty-five or forty pounds."
"Well," said Fannin, "I know that is true, and I don't know just why
there should be such a difference in the fish of the two coasts; but
I believe that it exists. Some day, very likely, we will be able to
explain it; but I can't do it now, and I don't believe I know anybody
who can."
The next morning Jack and Hugh were up long before breakfast, and were
talking about the difference between the surroundings of this camp
and those to which they had been accustomed for the last few weeks.
Ever since their departure from Nanaimo they had spent practically all
their time on the water or on the seashore; and, except in a few cases,
had hardly been a hundred yards from the beach. The present camp,
therefore, had about it something that was new. They could not hear
the soft ripple of the beach or the roar of the great waves pounding
unceasingly against the unyielding cliff. The water which hurried by
the camp was sweet and fresh. All about them were green forests, whose
pale gray tree trunks shone like spectres among the dark leaves. The
birds of the woods moved here and there among the branches or came down
to the water's edge to drink or bathe. Except for the canoe, and but
for the character of the rocks, they might have imagined themselves on
some mountain stream, a thousand miles from the seacoast.
Said Jack to his companion: "We have had lots of surprises on this
trip, Hugh, and this camp is one of the greatest of them."
"Yes," said Hugh, "I know just what you mean. It seems mighty pleasant
here to be in the timber with that creek running by; and yet I don't
know but I like the open sea better, where a man has a chance to look
about and see what is near him."
"Well," said Jack, "we certainly have seen lots of different country on
this trip, and I wish we were just starting out instead of just getting
in."
"Well," said Hugh, "I believe I feel a little that way myself; though,
to tell the truth, I shan't be sorry to get back to a country where
there are horses, and where a man can look a long way around and see
things."
"Oh, Hugh!" said Jack, interrupting the talk, "look at those little
dippers there! Let's go and watch them."
They strolled to the edge of the beach and there saw a number of the
queer little birds. They were, as usual, bowing, nodding, and working
their wings, or tumbling into the water, disappearing there to come
to the surface again some distance away, when they would rise on the
wing and fly to the beach or to some almost submerged boulder in the
current. Some of them were walking along the shore, from time to time
stopping and nodding as if to their shadows in the water; or again
taking their flight from point to point near the little stretch of
beach that, upon examination, appeared barren of food. Sometimes one of
the birds would bring up out of the water some little insect or worm,
which it would beat against the stones and then devour. Jack and Hugh
watched them for some time, but presently the coming of others to the
border of the stream disturbed the dippers, and they flew away up or
down the stream. They did not particularly mind being looked at by two
men, but they thought that five were too many, and they all disappeared.
At breakfast it was suggested that they should take a short trip
on foot up the stream to see what the river would offer. They were
crossing the jam when Hugh's keen eye detected a movement in the water
beneath them. Kneeling down on the floating logs they were astonished
to see that the deep pool beneath the jam was full of salmon. They
all stretched out at full length on the logs and stared down into the
clear water beneath them. Through the openings between the logs every
movement of the shoal of great fish, slowly moving about but a few feet
from their faces, could be seen. The water was beautifully transparent,
and it was easy to distinguish the color and form of each fish. The
humped back and hooked jaw of the most fully developed males could be
readily distinguished, and were in strong contrast with the slim and
graceful forms of the female fish. There were probably between four and
five hundred salmon in the pool, which was not a very large one. The
fish crowded together so thickly that it was only occasionally possible
to see the pebbly bottom. It was not long before Jack remembered the
salmon spear in the canoe, and soon after he had thought of it, he and
one of the Indians started back to get it. The salmon were so close
together in the pool and seemed so near to the surface of the water
that he thought that the spear could not be thrust down into the slow
moving mass without transfixing one or two of them.
When the spear was finally brought to the log jam each one of the
company secretly wished to be the first to catch a salmon, yet each was
too polite to say what he wished, and they passed the implement from
hand to hand, asking each other to make the first attempt. Fannin and
Hugh seemed to want Jack to make the first attempt, but he declined
flatly and said: "You ought to do it, Mr. Fannin, because you are more
skilful than either of us, but if you don't want to do it let Hugh try
his hand; he is the oldest person present."
Hugh also declined with great promptness and positiveness, but was at
length prevailed to take the spear. He lay down on the logs with his
face close to an opening, into which he introduced the points of the
spear, lowering it through the pellucid water until the end of the
shaft was in his hands and he had fitted his fingers into the notches
cut there. Then he watched until he saw a fish precisely under him,
and made a forcible thrust, driving the spear deep down into the water
and causing a little flurry among the salmon, which moved their tails
a little and then darted away. Then Hugh arose with a mortified look
and said: "Well, I thought I had one that time, but it seems not. You
fellows will have to try your hands now."
Fannin was the next to make a thrust, and made half a dozen without
effect. The fish did not even dodge the strokes, but each time the
spear went down toward them there was a general quivering of the
whole school, as if each fish had started a little. The thrower of
the implement looked at them with a somewhat perplexed expression,
and said: "It certainly seemed to me as if that spear went through
the whole school." When he had recovered the spear he passed to Jack
and told him to try his hand, but Jack's luck was no better than that
of his companions. To him, as he lay on his face looking down into
the pool, shadowed by the log jam, the depth of the water seemed to
be about five or six feet, yet as he thrust his spear into it and it
passed down toward the fish, the handle being in his hand, he could see
that the points were still quite a long distance above the backs of the
fish, and no matter how hard he threw the spear, it created but little
disturbance. Hugh, Jack, and Fannin were now stretched out at different
points on the log jam, gazing at the fish beneath them. For some time
they did not realize where the difficulty lay, and now and then one of
them would say: "Oh, please let me have the spear for just a minute;
they are so thick here that I know I can't help catching one if I only
thrust it at them." But all thrusts were futile. At last, going ashore,
and cutting a slender pole more than twenty feet in length, the depth
of the water was measured, and it appeared that the spear was far too
short to reach the fish. The excitement was too great to leave things
in this condition and return to camp, so Hugh and Fannin soon added six
or eight feet to the length of the salmon spear and besides made a long
gaff. With these two implements they returned to the pool, and found no
difficulty in catching salmon enough to supply the table.
All along the river, which they followed up for several miles, they
found great numbers of salmon, and with the salmon were a great many
trout, some of them of very large size. Fannin explained that these
fish followed up the salmon to feed on the spawn as it was deposited.
He declared that while the salmon were running the trout would pay no
attention to a fly. Certain it was that all Jack's efforts to get a
trout to rise to the fly were unsuccessful.
The evening after the day they had reached this camp they discussed
the question as to whether they should climb the mountains and have
another goat hunt. After a little discussion it was decided to do so;
but the next morning when they got up they found that it was raining
heavily. It rained continuously during the day until noon, when they
regretfully broke camp, and paddled down the Inlet to Hastings,
where they paid off and dismissed the Indians and their canoe. The
unemotional savages shook hands calmly with their companions of the
last month. They arranged in the canoe their blankets and provisions
and the few cooking utensils which had been given them, and then
paddled off down the Inlet and were soon out of sight, bound for
Nanaimo.
A day or two later the travellers started for New Westminster, to
return to Victoria. Jack and Hugh were loath to part with Fannin, and
they persuaded him to go with them on the stage as far as the town and
to see the last of them when they took the steamer back to the island.
The next morning all three boarded the stage, and, after a delightful
ride through the great forest of the peninsula, they found themselves
once more in New Westminster and shaking hands with Mr. James.