THE SAIL DOWN THE RIVER.
The first impression of the boys was that they were passing through a
country hoary with age. The scattered homes of the farmers, which
occasionally could be seen, were evidently all of recent date, though
many of them were weather-beaten and had never known the touch of a
paint-brush. But the country itself in the gray of the dawn seemed to
be wrinkled and old. It was a level land and without any marked
features, save that of its venerable appearance; but all this was
instantly forgotten when suddenly the full sweep of the mighty St.
Lawrence burst into view.
Far as the eye could see the great mass of water stretched away, and
of what a beautiful color it was! Its strong, swift current could be
discerned even from the cars, and in the distance were the islands.
Beautiful cottages and well-kept lawns were before them, and from the
flag-poles fluttered the stars and stripes, winding in and out as the
morning breeze shook out the folds of the bunting. Far to the east
could be seen the shores of the larger islands, many of them covered
with trees, and already changing color in the light of the rapidly
approaching dawn. All together, the sight was one of imposing beauty
and grandeur; but all other things were speedily forgotten, for the
great river, as it went surging in its way, seemed to fascinate the
eyes of the eager boys.
Too much impressed by the sight to give voice to their sentiments, for
a few minutes the lads gazed at the changing scene before them; but
they were speedily recalled to their immediate surroundings by the
movements of the people in the car, who were all astir by this time.
"Here we are!" called Jock, gleefully, as the rumbling train came to a
standstill, and the passengers all prepared to leave the car.
In a moment the boys joined the procession, and as they stepped upon
the dock they saw that steamers, large and small, were there, and
innumerable smaller boats of all kinds and descriptions. What
impressed our boys more than the steamers and yachts, however, was
the sight of the beautiful St. Lawrence skiffs, numbers of which were
near the dock. Graceful and light as a birch-bark canoe, and with
cushioned seats and even equipped with chairs, it seemed to them that
never before had they beheld such beautiful little crafts. What speed
could be made in them, and once in the current of the great river, how
they would go!
The dock was filled, in spite of the early hour, with a multitude of
people, some of whom were selecting their baggage and giving orders
for its transfer to the waiting steamers. Others were calling to the
porters, and still others were themselves rushing back and forth
between the train and the boats, looking after their own belongings
and seeing that they were properly placed. It was a stirring sight,
and the fact that almost every man, to say nothing of the boys, was
equipped with the case which plainly enclosed a fishing rod, showed
that others besides themselves had hopes of sport on the great river.
Jock, who was the leader of the party, was looking eagerly about in
the crowd for some one who should correspond to the description his
father had given him of Ethan, the man who was to be their guide and
cook; but for a time he was unable to find any one whom he dared to
address as the one he was seeking.
Soon, however, a man clad in the country garb, with a flannel shirt
open at the neck, and a huge straw hat on his head, came near and
peered inquiringly at the boys. Satisfied with his inspection, he
approached and said in a deliberate manner,--
"Mebbe you're Jock Cope's boy?"
"Yes, yes," responded Jock, quickly. "He's my father, and you are
Ethan, if I'm not mistaken."
"That's what folks call me. These the boys goin' into camp with ye?"
he inquired with a drawl, turning to the other boys as he spoke.
"Yes, these are my friends," and Jock proceeded to introduce each to
Ethan.
"Glad to see ye," responded Ethan, apparently not very much impressed
by the sight of the band. "Got yer trunks checked?"
"Yes, they were checked through to Alexandria Bay. We don't have to do
anything here, do we?"
"Naw, unless ye want to go down to the Bay on the steamer. I've got my
boat here, an' if ye want to ye can sail down with me. Ye'll have
speak up, sonny, though, for if ye want to take the steamer ye'll have
to say so mighty quick."
"We haven't had breakfast," said Jock, "and if the other fellows feel
as I do, we'll want something to eat."
"Ye can get breakfast aboard the boat if ye want to an' can afford to
pay for it, or ye can go up to one o' the hotels an' get it, an' I'll
wait here for ye. 'Tisn't for me to say."
"Oh, let's wait and get our breakfast at one of the hotels, and sail
down the river in Ethan's boat," said Bert, eagerly; and as it was
apparent that all the boys shared in his desire, it was quickly
decided to leave their rods and the personal effects they had brought
with them in his care.
Ethan received the rods with a grunt, which was not expressive of high
admiration for their outfit, and the boys at once started up the
street to secure their breakfast. They were too much excited to give
much attention to the straggling little village of Clayton, for their
appetites were imperative and must be satisfied, and soon they
entered one of the hotels and secured places in the dining room.
"I tell you what," exclaimed Bert, "this is great! I never saw such a
sight as this river. We'll have a great time here. Even Bob is
excited."
"Hungry, you mean," replied that individual. "You fellows have been
all stirred up by the scenery, but I'm thinking of the inner man."
"I'm not," said Ben. "Do you know, Jock, I'm afraid of that Ethan of
yours."
"Afraid of him? What do you mean?"
"Why, he acts as if he was a king or some other potentate. You don't
really suppose he actually owns one of these islands, do you?"
"I don't know," replied Jock. "I'll ask him, if you want me to."
"Well, the way that same Ethan looks at us, and sniffs at our rods,
and treats us as if we were boys, just scares me; it does, for a fact.
I don't know the difference between a reel and a rod, and somehow I
know I shan't even dare to put a worm on my hook if he's looking at
me."
"Put a worm on your hook!" exclaimed Jock, laughingly. "You are
green. You don't use worms here."
"Don't use worms? What do you have for bait, then, I'd like to know?"
"Minnows, little fish."
"I should think it would hurt 'em if you put 'em on the hook," drawled
Bob; "I'm too tender-hearted for that."
"You won't have to hurt your tender feelings, Bob," laughed Jock.
"Ethan does all that for you. That's the advantage of having a
boatman, you see."
"Ah, yes, I see," replied Bob, with a sigh of relief.
But the breakfast was now brought in, and in a moment all other things
were forgotten as the boys fell to with a will, and ate as only hungry
boys in the early morning air of the St. Lawrence can eat.
When this task was at last completed, they started eagerly toward the
dock, and as they approached they discovered Ethan watching for them.
He had already hoisted his sail and all things were ready for the
departure.
As the boys leaped on board, they noticed the beautiful little craft
of which Ethan was the proud owner; but as he was evidently eager to
set sail at once, no remarks were made until after the boat was free
from the dock. Then the strong breeze and the swift current combined
to send them swiftly on their way down the river, and in the
exhilaration of the scene the boys for a moment gave free play to
their feelings.
"You don't often have a day like this, do you, Ethan?" said Jock.
"Hey? oh, we have 'em 'most as often as they come."
"I know that, but they don't often come, do they?"
Ethan looked at his questioner for a moment before he said, "You don't
know much, I see. Lived in the city all yer life, haven't ye?"
"Yes," replied Jock, feeling for the moment as if he were guilty of
something, though of what he could not just determine; but the
boatman's contempt was so evident that the lad resolved to ask no more
questions.
"Then you're Jock Cope's boy, be ye?" said Ethan, after a pause.
"Yes. I've often heard him speak of you, and tell how you two used to
sit together in the same seat over in the little red schoolhouse.
Father says it's still standing, and he wants me to go over and see it
some day while we're here."
"Wants ye to see it? What fur?"
"Oh, just to see it, that's all. He wants me to see the place where he
went to school when he was a boy."
"Humph! it isn't much to see. Jest a little shanty, that's all. Say,
they tell me your pa is worth a lot o' money. Is that so?"
"I don't know," said Jock. "He's got some, I suppose. Enough to pay
for our expenses here this summer, I think."
"But heow much has he got?" persisted Ethan.
"I don't know just how much. He never told me."
"Got five thousand dollars?"
"Perhaps so."
"I don't b'lieve it," grunted Ethan, contemptuously. "I know Jock
Cope, an' I know he ain't worth no sech money's that. He's done a pile
o' harm to this country, though, I'll say that for him," he added
glumly.
"Done harm? My father done harm? I don't believe it!" exclaimed Jock,
warmly.
"Well, he has, whether ye believe it or not."
"What's he done?"
"Oh, he wasn't satisfied to stay here an' do what his father did afore
him. No, he had to go off down to New York, an' they say he's worth
five thousand dollars now. I don't believe it, but all the boys reound
here do, an' so they're goin' off to teown to make their fortunes too.
Now my boy Tom, he's goin' to help reound your camp, ye know, he's got
the fever too. Somebody's told him if he'll come down there they'll
get him a job on the street cars an' pay him a dollar an' a half every
day." And Ethan's eyes became large as his voice dropped lower in his
efforts to be more impressive. "He's nothin' but a young fool, that's
what he is, and he's all took up with the notion. I want you boys to
tell him 'tisn't so, that is, if you know anything abeout it, which I
don't much believe for my part. It doesn't stand to reason that
there'd be anybody so tarnel foolish as jest to give him a dollar and
a half every day for standin' up on a street car. No, sir. I don't
believe no such thing."
The boys looked at one another, and not even the sight of the
beautiful river could keep back the look of amusement which crept over
their faces.
"Ethan, have you ever been in New York?" inquired Bob.
"Who, me? Well, I rather guess not. They don't get me to go to no sech
place as that. Pickpockets an' thieves an' gamblers. No, sir. I've
never been outside o' Jefferson an' St. Lawrence counties in all my
born days. This 'ere river is good enough for me, an' I'm goin' to
stay where I'm well off. Since these city people have got to comin' up
here summers, I'm makin' money."
From Ethan's manner it was evident that he wished the boys to question
him, and Bob was the first to improve the opportunity.
"Ethan, are you a rich man?" he inquired solemnly.
"Rich? well, I don' know as ye'd call it that exactly. I'm doin'
pretty well, though. D'ye know heow much money I took in last summer
rowin'?" he added, as if he were about to disclose some great secret.
"No; I can't imagine. How much was it?" said Bob.
"One hundred an' ten dollars an' sixty-nine cents!"
"You don't mean it! It can't be possible!"
"Well, it is trew, whether it's possible or not. I saved thirty-one
dollars an' sixteen cents an' have got it in the bank up to Wat'town
now."
"What did you do with the rest of it?"
"Oh, I had to live, didn't I? Well, I used that in livin'. My
neighbors thought I was livin' pretty high, but I didn't put on no
airs. I ain't proud."
"Whose island is that?" inquired Ben, pointing to a small island on
which there was a beautiful cottage. He felt that diversion was
necessary to break the spell Ethan's astounding statements had
produced, and accordingly asked the first question that occurred to
him.
"That? oh, that b'longs to another fool deown New York way. They tell
me he's just bought it an' give a thousand dollars for it. 'Tain't
worth it. 'Tisn't worth fifty cents. Ye jest can't raise nuthin' on
it. Why, I could 'a' had that island for a gift if I'd been willin' to
pay the tax on it twenty-five year ago, an' that wasn't more'n fifty
cents. There's yer camp ahead o' ye, boys."
Instantly the statements of the incredulous Ethan were forgotten, and
all peered eagerly at the place he had indicated. Even the
exhilaration of the sail which had occupied two hours and a half was
also forgotten now.
As they had swept on in their course the boys had been more and more
elated. On past beautiful islands, and summer camps, and parks which
seemed like large villages, they had come. Sometimes they had passed
close to the shore in places where the channel was almost like a
mill-race in its swiftness, and then again they were out in the river
where only an eddy here and there indicated the tremendous power of
the great water, on whose surface they were sailing. Wooded islands
had been seen, and then islands which appeared to be only great rocks
and boulders loomed up before them. Camping parties like their own had
been passed, and salutes had been fired to acknowledge their approach.
Men and women, boys and girls, had all seemed to catch something of
the life of the great river, and on every side there appeared to be
the joy which came from the freedom from care and the life-giving
breezes of the majestic St. Lawrence.
Only Jock, of the party, had ever been there before, and in the
novelty and delight of the experience, his companions had, perhaps,
failed to be duly impressed by the sceptical sentiments of their
boatman. At all events, when Ethan declared that the camp was in
sight, even his own presence became vague and unreal as the boys
peered eagerly before them at the place where they were to stay for
the coming six weeks, and where doubtless many and thrilling
experiences were to be theirs.