Jack the Young Canoeman: An Eastern Boy's Voyage in a Chinook Canoe

by George Bird Grinnell

  CHAPTER XIII

  AN ADVENTURE OF THE CASSIAR

  The next morning the canoe started down the inlet, following theopposite shore. As they rounded a point of rocks, a few miles belowthe camp, they saw standing on the rocks close to the shore two deer,a buck and a doe. The sun was yet low, directly behind the canoe, andin the eyes of the deer. The deer saw the vessel, but did not seem ableto make it out. The various members of the party got their rifles inreadiness and put them where they could be easily reached, and thencontinued their steady paddling toward the deer. They had come towithin a hundred and fifty yards of them, and might have pushed muchnearer had not one of the Indians fired a shot. This was the signal fora general fusillade, the result of which was--nothing. It is very oftena fact that when several men are firing at one object it is missedby all. There is always a little excitement; each man is anxious tofire as soon as he can, for he is nervous and wishes himself to killthe game. The hurry and confusion throws every one a little off hisbalance, and the result is poor shooting.

  After the deer had disappeared into the forest, and the paddling hadbeen resumed, Hugh said: "Well, I expect I've seen that happen fiftytimes. When you get a lot of men shooting at a group of animals theyalmost always get clear off, or if one of them is killed it's just anaccident. I remember once seeing half a dozen antelope gallop by notmore than fifty yards from a company of soldiers that were halted,and I believe every man fired half a dozen shots and not a hair wastouched."

  "Yes," said Fannin, "you take even a couple of men who know each other,and who try to fire at game at the same time, and the result is alwayslikely to be a miss; and if there are a lot of men firing at will theysend their bullets in every direction except the right one."

  Jack felt mortified at his failure to hold his gun as he felt he shouldhave; but he was a little consoled to think that he had done no worsethan the two older hunters who had also been shooting.

  Charlie, on the other hand, not having a gun, seemed to be quitedelighted with the result and did not hesitate to deride the othermembers of the party on their bad shooting.

  At the mouth of the inlet and between that point and Philip's Arm thetide was running very strong. The canoe had a fine sailing breezebehind it, the sails were spread, and the men worked hard at thepaddling, but they were barely able to overcome the tide. Jack wasinterested in the appearance of the current as it ran through thenarrow channel. He could see that the surface of the water, instead ofbeing level as we always suppose it to be, was here inclined, and thatthe water was evidently higher at the point from which it came thanat the point toward which it was flowing--in other words, it was likethe water in a stream flowing from a high level to a lower one. Jackcalled Hugh's attention to this singular appearance, and Hugh at firsthardly believed that it could be so. But, after carefully looking, heacknowledged that it seemed to be. Fannin said that this was often thecase in these narrow channels where the tide ran swiftly.

  Just before they reached Philip's Arm the wind fell, and all save theIndians landed on the shore, and, tying a rope to the bow of the boat,pulled it up around the last point into the quiet water beyond. Herethey took to the paddles again, and went on until dark, for some timelooking in vain for a place where they could camp. The shore rosesteeply from the water, and there was no place for one to spread hisblankets.

  At last, quite after dark, as they were coasting along the shore, thesound of the running water was heard; and, landing near the mouth ofthe creek, they found a bit of moderately level ground. Now, by thelight of the fire, brush, stumps and rocks were cleared away and holesfilled up, so that a comfortable night was passed.

  The next morning there was a fine breeze, and with some help from thepaddles the canoe made good progress. During the day the mouth oftwo broad but short arms of the sea were passed, which Fannin toldthem were Frederick's and Philip's Arms. They enter the coast betweenmountains three or four thousand feet high, and are spots of greatbeauty. About the middle of the morning Jack saw a couple of canoes,each of which held two or three Indian women. Jack asked Fannin whothese people were, and Fannin appealed to Hamset, who told him thatthey were women who had been gathering berries. While they were still along way off Hamset hailed the women with a curious singing call, andthey replied with the same call, faintly heard across the waters. Asthe canoe approached the shore there was much conversation between theIndians who chattered at a great rate. They all seemed disposed to stopand visit for a while, but Fannin was anxious to push on, and aftera few inquiries of one of the women about the rapids which were justahead, the vessels parted company. Long after the canoes were out ofear-shot of ordinary conversation the Indians continued their talkingto each other, in musical tones, laughing at each other's jokes as theycame across the ever widening stretch of water.

  Soon after leaving the Indians, the canoe reached the mouth of anarrow channel through which ran a rapid, swifter than any yet seen.The passage was less than a hundred yards in width, and the water,so far as it could be seen ahead, presented to the eye nothing but amilk-white torrent, whose tossing waves were from three to five feethigh. The Indians seemed to hesitate a little about running this rapid,and both went ashore and followed down the bank for a little way,looking for the best course to follow. On their return they said thatthe passage might be made, and in a few moments the canoe was dartingover the white water. All that could be done was to keep her straight.Her motion was so rapid that it was quite impossible to feel the waterwith the paddles. While it lasted the run was quite exciting; but itwas soon over, for the channel was only half a mile in length, andthere was but little time to think about their possible danger or thepleasure of the passage. To Jack it was a delightfully exhilaratingride, and there was enough uncertainty to it, a possibility of danger,in fact, which made it the most exciting experience of the trip.

  As the canoe moved slowly along over the stretch of quiet water at thefoot of the rapids Jack happened to glance over the side of the canoe,and saw, lying quietly on the white sand, a large school of beautifultrout. The fish were very large, some of them apparently a foot anda half long. He felt a great longing to stop there and take some ofthese fish, but they all felt that they had no time now to go fishing.The trout paid no attention to the craft, lying perfectly motionless,except when its shadow fell upon them. Then they moved slowly away intothe sunlight.

  Threading its way among the beautiful islands which dotted CarderoChannel, the canoe moved slowly along until a point was reached whereits course must be changed from southeast to northwest, to passthrough the narrow passage between the mainland and Stuart Island,through Arran Rapid and then up into Bute Inlet. Here there had been afishing station for dog-fish--small sharks, valuable only for the oilthat their liver contains, and destructive to all fish life. For somedistance the shore was strewn with the carcases of dog-fish captured bythe Indians; and in some places the trees were almost black with thecrows and ravens which had gathered here in great numbers to feed onthe dead fish.

  The birds were very tame indeed, and often sat indolently on a limb,under which the canoe was passing. Cocking their heads to one side theylooked down on the travellers in an unconcerned and impudent fashionthat was amusing or provoking according to the mood of the individualat whom they were gazing.

  At the head of the bay, just beyond the point where the ravens wereso plenty, is an Indian village where nearly a hundred years beforethe explorer Vancouver had spent a winter during his voyage along thiscoast. The village is at the head of a deep bay. A beautiful clearstream of ice-cold water runs by it, and there is a considerable areaof arable land on either side of the stream. The canoe stopped here,for the Indians who were navigating it said that they wished to inquireof their friends about the passage of the rapids just ahead. As theywaited, Jack noticed running across the bay a number of small logs in aline, and finally inquired of Fannin what this meant, and Fannin askedthe Indians. After some little conversation Fannin tur
ned to Jack andsaid: "Why, that's a line running across the bay from one side to theother, and supported, as you see, by these log floats. About everytwenty feet or so, smaller lines, six feet in length, and each onecarrying a baited hook, hang down from the main line. You can easilysee that as this main line runs right across the bay, no fish can getup or down without passing the baits. I expect they catch a whole lotof fish."

  "Why," said Hugh, "there's something that looks like home! That'snothing but a trot line, such as I've seen a thousand times when I wasa boy back in Kentucky. It's a sure good way of catching cat fish, butI never would have expected to see it out in this country and amongthese Indians."

  Beyond this village the canoe, after passing the very noticeablemountain which stretches across Stuart Island, and which looks likea high wall built along the coast, ran Arran Rapids. Before enteringthe passage the party landed and climbed the hills, from which thewhole stretch of troubled waters could be seen. To Jack and Hugh, andpossibly to Fannin, the prospect seemed rather terrible, and the roarof the torrent was not assuring. In some places the water was tossedup as if by a heavy gale, and white-capped waves reared snowy crestshigh in the air. Near such an area of agitation were seen other spaceswhere deep whirlpools sucked away the water, leaving their centresmuch lower than the neighboring level; and scattered about among thewaves and whirlpools were other stretches of water less violentlyagitated, where the green oil-like fluid rolled over and over with aslow, repressed motion. All the time the dull roar or a muffled moaningrose from the channel. "This," said Fannin, "is what the Indians call a'_Skookumtsook_'" (strong water).

  The Indians were watching the flood, waiting for the proper time tomake a start, and at last Hamset rose and led the way down to thecanoe. The tide was just at the full; and at the end of the rapids theebb was met and a hard struggle ensued, the paddles and oars flying asfast as they could. The canoe began to go backward, and as it slowlyyielded to the irresistible force, Hamset, the bowman, turned andshouted that they must make for the shore. They did so, and when theyhad nearly reached it he turned again and declared that a present mustbe given to the water or they would all be drowned; but before thissacrifice had been made, a few strokes carried the vessel into an eddy,which enabled it to creep along close to the shore until the more quietwater at the mouth of Bute Inlet was reached.

  Just after leaving the rapids they came upon an Indian camp, whosepeople had come down from their main village at the head of the Inlet.The canoe pushed to shore to enable the travellers to talk with thepeople of the camp, and to make inquiries about the Inlet, and what wasto be found at its head. The Indians had pleasant faces and manners,and seemed a kindly folk, much interested in the movements of the three"Boston men," for they were quick to recognize Hugh, Jack, and Charlieas different from Fannin. They said that their village stood on a flatat the head of the inlet where the Homalko River entered it. On themountains about the village they said there was much ice, and that atrail led from the village to one of these glaciers. "Now," they said,"our houses are empty, all our people being scattered along the coastfishing." This camp was the last to start out to try its luck. Forprovisions they had a porpoise, which they had killed on the way down,some herring, and one twenty-five pound salmon.

  Charlie, who discovered the salmon, seized it at once, and lifted it upto view; and Hugh, who was always amused at Charlie's interest in thequestion of eatables, joked him about the way he "froze to" the fish,which Fannin presently bought for "four bits" or half a dollar.

  A little later Hugh, who was wandering about the camp, called Jack,and pointed out to him one of the rakes with which the Indians caughtherrings. It was just as the sailor had described it to them when theywere on the steamer; and it was easy to see how the keen points of thenails which projected from either edge of the pole could pierce andhold the herring.

  After they had left the village of the friendly Homalko Indians thecanoe moved slowly along up the inlet, and an hour or two before sunsetmade camp on a gravelly beach two or three miles above the Amor Point.

  Near camp there were a few trees, and noticeable among them a talldead spruce, in which was a huge eagle's nest. From the time of theirarrival until dark one of the eagles was coming and going, bringingfood to the whistling young, whose voices were plainly heard andwhose movements were sometimes seen. No feature of this coast wasmore interesting or more surprising to Jack than the abundance of theeagles. They were seen everywhere and at all times. Sometimes duringthe morning fifteen or twenty of the great birds were passed, and halfa dozen of their nests.

  Jack talked with Fannin about their abundance.

  "Of course they're plenty," said Fannin, "and there's no reason whythey shouldn't be. You see they're absolutely without enemies; no oneever thinks of injuring them, and none die except from old age oraccident. They breed undisturbed, and there is, as you have seen, anunending supply of food. Why shouldn't they increase? I can fancy thata time might come when the eagles would be so abundant here as to be apest. Though, just what harm they could do, it is hard to say. I hatean eagle, myself, and would be glad to destroy them all if I could; butthen, I have a special reason for it."

  That night, as they were sitting about the fire, Jack asked Fannin whathis reason was for disliking the eagles; and after a little hesitationFannin told him a story.

  "It was back in the sixties," he said; "and I had joined the rushto Cassiar, and my partner and myself had struck a prospect late inthe summer. It looked well, and we held on until too late. The snowcame, and fell heavily, and we made up our minds that we would have towinter there, yet we had practically nothing to eat. We had built acabin, but it was not fitted up for winter, and there was no stock ofprovisions. The question was, what should we do? If we started to goback to our own cabin, two hundred miles away, where our main supplieswere stored, we could probably get there on short commons. On the otherhand, this would mean wintering away from our prospect, doing no workon it through the winter, and wasting some weeks of time in spring toget back to it. On the other hand, if one of us stayed in the cabinwith what provisions we had, and the other went back and got a freshsupply, we could winter by the prospect, work on it during the winter,and be on hand in the spring to push the summer work. This seemed thebest thing for us to do. Then came the question: 'Who should go forthe grub?' We were both willing to go. There was no special choicebetween going and staying. The man who stayed behind would have apretty lonesome time of it, but would have enough to occupy him. Theman who went would have a lonely time, too, but he would be travellingconstantly and working hard. We could not make up our minds whichshould go, and finally we drew lots for it, and it fell to me to go. Itook my snowshoes and toboggan and some grub, and started. As I wouldbe gone some weeks, most of the food must be left with my partner, andI could depend in some sort on my rifle. I should have no time to hunt,but there was always some likelihood of running on game.

  "I started early one morning, and that afternoon it began to snow, andit kept on snowing for four days. I travelled slowly, for the groundwas covered deep with a light, fluffy snow, on which snowshoes were notmuch good; and it was hard to haul the toboggan. Moreover, the groundbeing hidden, I could not choose my way, and two or three times I gotamong rocks and timber, and broke one of my snowshoes. That meant ahalt to mend it--a further delay. It was soon evident that I was goingto run short of food. I kept going as fast as I could, and kept a goodlookout for game, but saw nothing, in fact, not even a track.

  "About the tenth day out I saw one of these eagles roosting on a treein the trail ahead of me; and, without seeming to notice it, I pressedon, thinking that before long I would be near enough to kill it, andthat would give me so much more food. Before I came within reach,however, it left its perch and soared into the air. But instead offlying away, it merely wheeled high over the valley; and at night, whenI went into camp, it alighted in a tree not far off, and sat watchingme. This continued for days, and all the time my grub allowance wasgrowing smaller. I cu
t myself down first to half rations and then toquarter rations. I was beginning to grow weak, and still had a longdistance to go before reaching our cabin. Two or three times when theeagle had flown near me I had shot at it on the wing, hoping to killit; but with no result except to call forth the whistling cry, whichsome writer has described as a 'maniac laugh.'

  "What with my hunger, my weakness, and my loneliness, it got so aftera while that that eagle got on my nerves. I began to think that itwas following me; just watching and waiting for me to get weak, andstumble, and fall, and freeze to death; and that then it would have agood meal off me. I began to think it was an evil spirit. Every day Isaw it, every day I looked for a chance to kill it, and every day itswung over me in broad circles and laughed at my misery.

  "I had now been travelling twenty days and knew that I must be gettingclose to the cabin. My grub was all gone, and I could hardly staggeralong; but I still clung to my toboggan, for I knew that without thatI couldn't take food back to my partner; and the thought of him backthere at work on short allowance, and sure to starve to death unless Igot back to him, added to my trouble.

  "At last one day about noon I came in sight of the cabin, just ableto stagger, but still dragging the toboggan, which had nothing on itexcept my blanket and a little package of ammunition. I went up to thecabin door, opened it, went in and partly closed the door, leaving acrack through which I could watch for the eagle. I hoped that he wouldstop on one of the big trees near the cabin, and watch for me to comeout. He did so, lighting on a limb about a hundred yards from the door.He made a big mark. I put the rifle through the crack, steadied itagainst the jamb, took as careful a sight as I ever took at anything,and pulled the trigger. When the gun cracked, the eagle spread hiswings, soared off, and taking one turn over the valley, threw back hishead, laughing at me. He sailed away over the mountains, and I neversaw him again.

  "Two or three full meals put heart into me once more, and with a goodload of food, I started back to my partner. Although the way was alluphill, I got to him in about two weeks. On the way back I killed twodeer and some rabbits, and did not have to break into the load ofprovisions on my toboggan. When I reached him, I found that he wasliving in plenty. He had killed four caribou that had wandered downclose to the cabin one night, and still had the carcases of two hungup, frozen. Since that time I have never had any use for eagles."