The Six River Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence; Or, The Lost Channel

by William Osborn Stoddard

  CHAPTER XVII

  CAPTAIN JOE'S NIGHT VISIT

  "I really would like to know," Case observed, "whether those fellowsare real wreckers, or whether they have been waiting there for the_Rambler_ to come back down the river. You know the story was printedthat we were coming back to look up the lost channel."

  "I don't know of any way of finding out unless we go to shore," Alexsuggested, looking very much as if he would like to pay a visit to theblaze. "We might learn something of importance," he added rathercoaxingly. "Suppose we do go and see."

  "If you try to leave this boat to-night," Clay declared, "I'll tie youup with one of the anchor cables. We haven't got any time to wastehunting for you. So you stay on board the boat."

  Alex did not exactly like the idea of going quietly to bed, but he wasfinally induced to do so.

  "Now," said Captain Joe, as he stood alone on deck with Clay, "supposewe shove over to the other shore. Those fellows are wreckers, there isno doubt of that, and there is no sense in our mixing with them. If westay here, they'll prowl around the _Rambler_ all night, and thebulldog will bark and the bear will growl, and it will be likesleeping in a boiler shop. What do you say to that?"

  "That suits me exactly," Clay answered.

  "Then I'll tell you what we'll do. From the point where we tieto-night, we'll pass down the river on the north side. That will bringus in behind Cartier island, and we can push up the west river insteadof the east one, which seemed to be the center of activity when youwere there."

  "That's another good suggestion," Clay agreed.

  "The west river," the old captain went on, "is a small stream incomparison with the other. There's a funny thing about it that I nevercould understand. I was in there once, landing supplies for asurveying party and it seemed to me then that that stream never grewto any size until it came within a mile or so of the isthmus whichconnects the peninsula with the main shore."

  "Then there must be some tributary of good size there," said Clay.

  "That's just the point," the captain went on. "There isn't anytributary of good size there. The peninsula is very narrow and slopessteeply to the west. In fact, the river to the east is several feethigher than the one on the west. That's one reason why I think therenever was any channel through there."

  "That is true," Clay answered. "You see, a channel through there,running at the rate the incline would naturally call for, would cut ahole through that neck of land about as wide as one of the mainrivers. Why, it would drain the big river and turn all the water intothe small stream. At least, it looks that way to me."

  "Oh, I don't know about that," the captain answered, "there's a lot ofwater in that east river. Still, there's no channel there and neverwas so far as I can understand. Now, what I can't understand is, howthis west river gets so big all at once. There may be a creek runningin at the other side, but if there is, I never found it."

  "You seem to understand that district pretty well," Clay laughed.

  "Didn't I tell you I knew the whole St. Lawrence river south, north,and bottom?" demanded the captain. "Why, when I took that load ofprovisions in for the surveyors, there were Indians enough along theshore to give a city a population as large as Chicago's. And therewere bears, and wolves, and deer, and beaver, and all sorts of wildcreatures in the woods--thick as berries in a swamp."

  During this conversation the two had been watching the shore where thelight had sprung up. With a night glass they could see figures passingin front of the blaze, but the beacon, if such it was, soon died downto embers, and nothing more was heard from the shore.

  They both listened for the sound of oars in the river, but none came.The tide was running in and the current was running out, with theresult that great ranks of waves lay across the wide river likewinnows in a field of grain. The wind blew sweeping up from the gulf,opposing the current, and, taken altogether, it was as dangerous anduncertain a night on the river as one could well imagine.

  The _Rambler_ danced and bobbed about frightfully, drawing at heranchor and seeming to lunge forward in the waste of water. However,she was a staunch little craft, and the boys were used to her caperson the waves, and so paid little attention.

  "They wouldn't dare to venture out in a boat to-night," was Clay'scomment. "Besides," he added, "they know now that we are suspiciousand watchful, and, unless I am greatly in error, we will hear no moreof them."

  "Shall we go across now?" asked the captain.

  "I'm ready if you think we can make it."

  The captain chuckled again and his shoulders shook.

  "Make it?" he repeated. "Of course we can make it."

  "The tide and the wind are fighting the current," Clay suggested, "andall we'll have to do will be to fight the waves."

  It was rather rough getting to the north shore, but the trip was madewithout accident, except that Jule was thrown from his bunk andCaptain Joe, the dog, and Teddy protested against the storm in waysbest known to bulldogs and bears. Jule merely rubbed his eyes andcrawled back into his bunk.

  They found a place to anchor where the _Rambler_ would be protectedduring the night by a finger of rock running out into the river. Allalong the shore to the north was a heavy forest. The trees swayed andcreaked in the wind, and now and then a crash from the interior toldof the falling of some monarch of the forest which had doubtlesswithstood the storms of the St. Lawrence valley for hundreds of years.

  It was a wild night on the river and on the land, but the boys sleptpeacefully until morning. As for Captain Joe, he declared that itreminded him so much of old nights on the banks of Newfoundland thathe wanted to sit up and refresh his recollection of those adventuroustimes.

  Clay rather suspected that the old captain was too apprehensive ofevil from the wreckers, or accidents from the storm, to go to bed, buthe let him have his way, and the hardy old fellow seemed as bright andactive as ever in the morning. He even declined to go to the cabin forrest when the boys insisted that he ought to do so.

  "We'll get rest enough when we get down to the west river," thecaptain smiled. "I can sleep in the woods."

  "That's just where we won't get any rest," Jule urged.

  "Huh," murmured Alex. "That's where I get my rest! The natives were soafraid that I'd tire myself walking around that they trussed me uplike a hen. I'd just like to get a hold of some of those outlaws.They're the limit--the worst I ever encountered."

  "What did they do to you?" asked Captain Joe.

  "Do to me?" repeated Alex. "Why, they had a stew, or a boiled dinner,or something, cooking in a tin pail over a fire, and they wouldn'tgive me a thing to eat. And that is the height of meanness!"

  As if repenting of the violence of the day before, and trying to makerestitution for the many blows at the sad old world, the weather thatmorning was all that could have been desired. The air was clear andsweet after its bath of rain, and the leaves of the forest sparkledand rustled like jewels as the sun shone upon their moist surfaces.

  The boys made good time that day, although they did not feel inclinedto hurry. Alex took the canoe out in the forenoon and caught half adozen fish which he cleaned for dinner. The boy wanted to go ashoreand prepare the dinner a la Indian again, but the others insisted thatthey really wanted a fish dinner, so the catch was baked in the ovenof the coal stove. The boys claim to this day that Alex consumed halfof the fish that he caught, but of course Alex disputes this.

  At sundown they anchored the _Rambler_ within four or five miles ofthe west river, in a little bay which ran into the mainland almostbehind the westward extension of Cartier island.

  No lights were shown on the boat, supper having been prepared in thedark, and the boys sat along the deck fighting mosquitoes andlistening to the calls of the wild creatures in the woods.

  The point they had selected for their anchorage was directly west ofPoint aux Outardes, and when the moon rose the boys naturally turnedtheir eyes in that direction. Although the point was fully four milesaway, a rocky promontory could be seen stand
ing sharply out againstthe dark line of the forest.

  "Captain," Alex said, as they sat back of the gunwale on the prow, "Iwish you'd take this glass and see what you can discover on thatpoint."

  Captain Joe took the glass into his hand and held it for a long time,swinging it back and forth over the shore to the north, and over theriver line of Cartier island. Then he handed it back to Alex.

  "I'll tell you," he said slowly, "there's a campfire over on thepoint, and there are many people around it. At least I see figuresmoving back and forth."

  "Perhaps that is a base of supplies for the fellows who are trying tofind the lost channel in order to beat Fontenelle to the charter andthe family jewels," Clay suggested.

  "It doesn't seem as if they would camp in so conspicuous a place."

  "Oh, I don't know about that," Case said, "they have nothing to fearfrom officers or wreckers. They are only hunting for a lost treasure,which any one may find who is lucky enough to get to it."

  "Let's go and call on them," suggested Alex.

  "I prefer to live a little longer," Case laughed.

  "Aw, come on, they won't hurt us," Alex argued, "I'm going."

  The boys laughed at the idea and Alex said no more about the proposedexcursion, but Clay suggested to Captain Joe after the others were intheir bunks:

  "We must watch that little rascal, or he'll get up in the night andrun over there. He's always doing tricks of that kind, and some timehe'll get into serious trouble."

  Captain Joe pretended to regard the situation as very serious, andsaid that he would see that Alex didn't get away from the boat thatnight. With this Clay seemed contented. The old captain insisted onkeeping watch again that night, but if the boys had been about thedeck they would have seen very little of him, for all that.

  As soon as the others were asleep, the captain untied the tow line ofthe canoe, stepped softly into it, and paddled away in the directionof the north shore. So far as possible he kept the bulk of the_Rambler_ between himself and the point where the light had been seen.

  Reaching the margin of the bay, he turned to the east and paddledstraight to the mouth of the west river. After an hour of steady work,he reached a point a little east and directly north of Point auxOutardes. Nothing could be seen of the fire or the figures about itfrom the north, and the captain boldly crossed the arm of the baystretching in behind Cartier island. In half an hour he was on theisland itself, and separated only by a few rods of mingled rocks andbushes from the point.

  Advancing cautiously to the south he came within view of the blaze andwithin hearing of much of the conversation going on there.

  The night hours passed slowly. The moon swung to the south and off tothe west, and the shadows lay long in the forest before the oldcaptain moved from his point of observation. Then with a chuckle hecrept back to his canoe, and long before the boys were out of theirbunks he was fishing over the gunwale of the _Rambler_ in the mostinnocent manner imaginable. The old fellow chuckled as he dropped hisline.

  "That bay stretching in behind the peninsula," he mused, "looks to mejust as it did a good many years ago. No improvements seem to havebeen made there notwithstanding the work of the surveyors, and thecountry is just as desolate as it was then. If I had had a little moretime I might have paddled up to the mouth of the west river and lookedover the situation there, but daylight showed too soon."

  "What's that you're muttering about?" asked Alex clapping a hand onthe old captain's arm. "You must be talking in your sleep."

  "Not that any one knows of," chuckled the old captain. "I was onlysaying that from here the country looks exactly as it used to."

  "And my stomach feels exactly as it used to," Alex declared. "Youcatch the fish, and I'll cook 'em, and we'll tumble the boys out forbreakfast. They're sleeping too long, anyway."

  This program was followed to the letter, and before noon the _Rambler_lay up the west river about a mile from the bay creeping in behindCartier island. At first no one left the boat, however.

  "Do you remember what the chief of police said about Fontenelle's boatand a lot of perfectly good provisions lying on the bottom of theriver?" asked Clay as the boys lounged on deck.

  "Indeed I do," replied Case. "I've been thinking it would be a finething if we could find that boat."

  "I have found it!" Clay exclaimed.

  "Yes, you have!" Case said, doubtfully.

  "Sure, I have," Clay went on. "When we swung in past Point auxOutarde, you were all watching the point to see what had become of themen who camped there last night, while I was searching the bay on thenorth side looking for some signs of the wreck of the _Cartier_."

  "And you found it, did you?" Case cried excitedly.

  "Sure, I found it," Clay declared. "It lays bottom down in aboutfifteen feet of water, with the top of the cabin showing plainly."