VIII
STORM AND WRECK
The next evening was exactly right for the trip. The sky was clear, andthe surface of the lake was scarcely rippled by the light southwestbreeze. The sun had set before the adventurers put off from theircamping place. Nangotook directed their course to the Island of theBeaver, and ran the canoe up to the same ledge where they had landed theday before. Bidding the boys remain with the boat, he stepped out on therock, but the lads were curious to know his purpose, so Jean followedhim at a respectful distance. Peeping around the corner of the high pileof rocks, the boy saw the Indian standing where he could command a goodview of the figure painted there. He gazed up at it while he muttered afew words in his own language. Then he stretched out his arm towardseach of the four points of the compass in turn, threw a sacrifice oftobacco into the water, and said a few more words in conclusion. Thoughthe French lad knew something of the Ojibwa tongue, he could notunderstand what Nangotook said, but he felt sure that, Christian thoughthe Indian considered himself, he was praying to the manitos of windsand waters for protection, a prosperous voyage and a safe return. WhileNangotook was making his offering, Jean slipped hastily back to thecanoe, reaching it before the Ojibwa came in sight.
The western sky was still flushed and bright with the northernafterglow, when the gold-seekers paddled around the little Islet of theBeaver. As they left the outer end, Jean caught sight of a thin line ofsmoke rising straight up from another island not a quarter of a mileaway. Some one else was camping only a short distance from their owncamp.
Due south they steered. Ronald and the Indian were at the paddles, whileJean, sitting with his face to the north, kept his eyes on the tworocks, and warned the others if they swerved in the least from theircourse. From time to time, not willing to trust wholly to the boy,Nangotook turned his head to make sure their course was true. The lads'hearts were beating fast with excitement, for the great adventure hadreally begun. Nangotook was silent and stolid. If he were excited oreager, apprehensive or fearful of the risk they were running in puttingout into the open lake in search of a place said to be guarded byspirits, animals and serpents, he gave no sign.
In the clear, light, northern evening, the two high rocks were visibleto the keen sight of the voyageurs until they were a long way out.Before he lost sight of his landmarks, the Indian took a carefulobservation of the sky, where the stars were beginning to appear, thathe might be able to steer by them and hold his course true. He saidthat, according to his grandfather's story, the island should be reachedlong before dawn. In the hope of catching some glimpse of the land theysought, the boys had gazed again and again, during the day, out acrossthe water, but, though the sky was blue overhead, the distance had beenhazy, and no faintest shadow of land was to be seen in that direction.When they had asked Etienne if the island was ever visible from the spotwhere they were, he had said he did not know. He had never seen it, butperhaps the air had never been clear enough when he had passed that way.
Until after midnight all went well. The night was brilliantly clear, thecanoe moved easily over the ripples, and everything seemed to favor theadventure. Then the breeze died down entirely. The dip of the paddleblades alone broke the smooth surface of the water. The air wasunusually warm for night time on Lake Superior, and there was somethingominous in the stillness.
Lightning began to flash low down on the southern horizon, and thegleams disclosed a bank of clouds. The adventurers increased theswiftness and strength of their paddle strokes. The distant growling ofthunder reached their ears. As flash after flash lit up the sky, theycould see the clouds growing and spreading. The stars were losing someof their brilliancy. A light haze seemed to be veiling them. The thunderrolled louder and nearer, the intervals between flash and sounddecreased. The clouds from south and west were moving more rapidly, andthe breeze was beginning to blow up in fitful puffs and gusts.
The voyageurs did not think of turning back. They had come too far. IfNangotook's information was correct, the island could not be many milesaway. In the lightning flashes Jean thought he could make out a darkline on the water far ahead. To go back would be suicidal, for they musthave come considerably more than half-way.
One after another the stars were swallowed up by the clouds. The gustsof wind grew stronger, the lake was roughening. In a very short timethere would be no stars left to steer by, and the wind was so fitful andunsteady in direction that it was no guide. The night had grown verydark, and the lightning revealed nothing but heaving water below andmoving clouds overhead. If Jean had really seen land, the waves now hidit from view.
Every moment the adventurers thought the storm must break, and yet itdid not. The sky remained overcast, the thunder rolled and grumbled, thelightning flashed, now overhead, now low on the horizon, first in onequarter, then in another. But no rain fell. There must be worse coming.Still it did not come. Would it hold off until daybreak, until theycould see land and reach it?
Even for skilled canoemen there was danger enough. The wind came insqualls, sending the waves first one way, then another. Nangotook had tobe constantly on the alert to turn the canoe this way and that, adifficult task in the darkness. As the wind increased and the wavesrolled higher, he ordered the others to cease paddling. One man musttake all the responsibility. He must act so quickly that there was notime to give orders to another. It was no longer a question of gettingahead but of keeping the canoe right side up. The buoyant, but frail,little craft must mount each wave at just the right angle. It must beheld steady when it shot down the other side and through the troughbetween. The shifting squally wind made frequent, sudden twists of thepaddle necessary, and to prevent the canoe from careening, the body ofthe paddler must be thrown in the opposite direction. The poise of hisbody was almost as important as the handling of the paddle. Whateverhappened, Ronald and Jean must remain motionless, never for one momentshifting their weight unless the Indian so ordered. The whole fate ofthe three rested on his skill and judgment.
So they went on and on, in imminent peril every moment, on through theblack night, lit up only by the lightning flashes, which revealed tothem nothing but a world of threatening sky and tossing water. All senseof direction was gone. Nangotook's only aim was to keep the canoe frombeing swamped, and it did not seem as if he could accomplish that featmuch longer. It was not surprising that the two lads, living in thatsuperstitious age, began to wonder if the spirits of the lake were notarrayed against them, struggling to keep them from the wonderful islandwhere the sands were of gold. Had a manito risen out of the water andpromised them a safe return to shore if they would give up their quest,they would have been glad to agree to anything. But no manito appeared,and the situation, instead of improving, grew steadily worse.
They had become convinced that the storm was one of wind and lightningonly, when suddenly the rain came in a dash so fierce that swampingseemed inevitable. Jean and Ronald bailed for their lives. Fortunatelythe wind had lessened with the burst of rain that seemed to flatten outthe waves, so it was possible for the lads to bail. Fast and frenziedlyas they worked, they refrained by instinct from moving their bodies anymore than was absolutely necessary. The chief danger for the moment wasthat the canoe might fill and sink. Had the violent rain been of longduration that disaster could not have been prevented, but luckily thedeluge lasted but a very few minutes, ceasing as suddenly as it hadbegun.
With the passing of the rain, the wind steadied, blowing strong andcold, instead of in shifting squalls. Evidently the weather wasclearing. Patches of star sprinkled sky began to appear and disappearand appear again, as the storm clouds broke and scattered, scuddingbefore the wind. The waves were high, and the canoe was still in greatperil. It was borne along rapidly, and the Indian had his hands full tokeep the waters from overwhelming it. It was tossed up and down until itseemed about to turn end over end. But Nangotook's trained judgment,cool head and iron wrist and forearm continued to triumph in thestruggle.
As the sky cleared the boys could see, from the
faintness of the stars,that day was dawning. Then just as hope began to be renewed in them, thesound of breakers ahead reached their ears. The Ojibwa gave his paddle atwist to swerve the canoe to the right, but the wind counteracted hiseffort, and before he could turn sufficiently, a dark mass of rocksloomed up close by. As the canoe was lifted on the crest of a wave, hecould see the pale gleam of the spray that dashed against that rockwall. With a supreme effort, and at the risk of overturning his craft,he succeeded in swinging to the right, beyond the reach of the surf. Hehad barely made the turn, when a big wave carried the canoe by the rockwall, so close in that an outstretched hand could almost have touchedit.
The dangerous manoeuver of turning again, to run in on the lea side ofthe rocks, was accomplished safely. Suddenly the three adventurers foundthemselves in almost still water, so completely were they sheltered fromthe wind. The Indian paddled slowly along, straining his eyes to find arift or a beach where a landing could be made. He had taken but a fewstrokes when he discerned a blacker gap in the dark rock. That gap wasthe entrance to a narrow passage, so pitchy black that he could not tellwhether it was long or short. Even his keen eyes could not see thedangers ahead. The stern of the canoe had scarcely passed into the rift,when the bow struck sharply on a submerged rock. A great hole was tornin the birch bark, and the water rushed in.
As the canoe filled and settled, Nangotook climbed out on the rock wherethe boat had struck, but Ronald and Jean were less fortunate. They couldnot reach bottom and were compelled to swim. They had only a few strokesto go in the cold water and black darkness, however, before their feettouched solid rock. Scrambling up a slippery slope, they were soon outof the water, on a narrow, shelving ledge running along a steep wall.From near by Nangotook called to them. Making their way cautiously alongthe ledge in the direction of his voice, they soon reached the head ofthe rift, which the Indian had already gained.
There on a beach of sloping boulders and large pebbles, safe from windand waves, the three crouched. Whether the canoe and its contents couldbe raised they would not know until daylight came, but they were toothankful for their own safety to worry about anything else. Sincerely,though silently, the two lads, each in his own way, thanked God fortheir deliverance, while the Indian spoke a few words in his ownlanguage and in a low voice. Whether his gratitude was directed to theChristian God, to Nanabozho or some other manito of the lake, or to themysterious charm he carried in the breast of his tunic, the lads couldnot tell, probably to a combination of the three.
There among the rocks, the seekers after the golden sands remained safe,but chilled and miserable enough, until daylight came. They did nottalk, but the boys could not help wondering if the place where they hadtaken refuge might not be some part of the Island of Yellow Sandsitself. To be sure, they had encountered no sand of any kind, only rocksand pebbles, but whether the wonderful beach Etienne had described ranclear around the mysterious island or only fringed a part of it they didnot know. Perhaps at that very moment of chilled misery the golden sandsmight lie but a few feet away from them.