XX THE NORTHEASTER

Late in the afternoon of the fourth day after the gold-seekers had reached the long point, the wind went down, and by an hour after sunset the waves had subsided enough to make crossing to the island to the northeast possible. So the three set out immediately, and made the traverse safely. Though twilight was deepening to darkness when they drew near the land, they had no difficulty in recognizing the place. It was not their Island of Golden Sands. To find that they must go farther north and east. It would have been useless to begin their search just then, however, for clouds were gathering and the night promised to be a black one. That they might camp nearer the northern end, that was to be their starting point, they paddled along the southeast shore of the island to the sand beach beyond the landlocked bay.

Before midnight they were awakened by a rain storm. With that storm began a period of almost heart-breaking waiting, that roused in the Indian the most gloomy fears, well-nigh discouraged Jean, and would have had the same effect on Ronald had he not clung with determined stubbornness to his purpose. There were times during the week of delay, when even he was almost ready to give up, but he kept his wavering to himself, insisting always that they must make one more attempt to find the golden sands. Not all of the weather that hindered them was of a kind the boys would ordinarily have called unpleasant. Most of the days were bright, but the wind blew incessantly, now from one point, now from another, but always so strongly that to start off into the open lake would have been the utmost folly. All the voyageurs’ strength and skill must have been spent in keeping the canoe from swamping, and, even if they had escaped drowning, they could have made almost no headway towards north and east.

They were anxious to save their precious caribou meat, so they made every effort to trap and shoot hares and squirrels, and to catch fish, but their luck was poor. Either there were very few of the little animals on the island or they had become exceedingly shy, for during the whole week but one hare and three squirrels were taken. The wind blew so hard that fishing was possible only in the bay or on the lee side of the island. From the inner bark of the cedar, softened by soaking, Etienne and the boys laboriously rolled and twisted enough tough cord for a small net, and by setting this at night and taking it up in the morning, they managed to get a few lake herring. But the catches, even with the net, were scanty, and the best efforts of the three were not sufficient to supply them with enough game and fish to keep them nourished. They were forced to eat so much of the dried caribou meat that their supply disappeared alarmingly.

For future use in lodge building, they prepared several apakwas, as Etienne called them, long strips composed of squares of birch bark sewed together with the cedar twine. These apakwas could be rolled and carried in the canoe, and were all ready to be wrapped around the framework of a wigwam.

During all that week the gold-seekers found no new traces of Le Forgeron, though they took advantage of an east wind one day to explore the caves on the northwest side of the island. The withered evergreen couches and the ashes of the fire were still on the beach in the largest cave, but there was nothing to indicate that any one had been there since Ronald’s visit.

A favorable day dawned at last, with a light breeze and blue sky, although a filmy haze lay on the water in the distance. The Ojibwa feared fog, but Ronald would wait no longer.

“There will never be a morning when something may not happen,” he cried impatiently. “If we fail to take this opportunity, there may not be another for days to come. We can be turning back any moment danger threatens, but we must take some chances no matter how good the conditions. Surely not one of us is fearing a risk, when there’s so much to gain, if we’re successful.”

Ronald had tried to speak without offense, but the Indian knew that the boy was making a direct appeal to his courage, and he was too proud to hesitate longer.

“Come then,” he said, “and may the manitos,—and the good God be kind to us.”

Their course of action, as soon as the weather should be favorable, had been decided long before. From the northern end of the island they would travel directly east for two hours, then turning north they would go in that direction for the same length of time, when, if they had not caught sight of the island they sought, they would turn to the east again for an hour’s paddling, then to the north for another hour and so on. If by sunset they were not in sight of their destination, Ronald consented to give up the search, and make for the nearest land, or if no land was in sight, to steer straight for the north shore. Indeed it seemed likely that by that time, unless they were hindered by contrary winds, they might be able to discern the shore and make directly towards it. The plan was a desperate one. Their only possibility of success, or even of reaching the north shore alive, lay in the continuance of good weather, and all three were familiar enough with the uncertainty and fickleness of Lake Superior winds and storms to realize in some degree the recklessness of the attempt. But the boys were young and rash. They had come through many dangers without serious accident. The very fact that their canoe had outridden the fearful storm on the night when they left the Rock of the Beaver, encouraged them to believe that they might get through safely even though the weather should change for the worse. Whatever the Ojibwa’s feelings were, he gave no sign, taking his place in the canoe in silence, and without a trace of emotion on his impassive face.

At first all went well, the wind was light, the waves scarcely high enough to be called waves, and the canoe made good speed to the east. To the north over the water they could see, among its companion islets, the rock that had sheltered them from the force of the storm. It was to the east, however, that they gazed eagerly. They went on in that direction for the agreed upon two hours, estimating the time by counting their paddle strokes. No island came into view. So they turned to the north. For two hours more they traveled steadily, but, though their eyes searched the water ahead and to either side, they caught no glimpse of land. The sun was shining and the sky blue overhead, yet a thin haze, diffused through the air, made it impossible to see any great distance. After two hours’ journey to the north they turned again to the east. Before they had gone far they noticed that the weather was beginning to thicken, the blue overhead was turning to gray, the breeze that had been so light all the morning was freshening, and becoming northeasterly. The signs made the boys uneasy, but Nangotook gave no indication of noticing them.

By the time they had traveled their hour to the east and had turned north again, the wind had strengthened so that paddling at an angle against it became hard work. The sky had grown lead gray, and, without the sun to guide them, the boys wondered how they were to keep their course. The distance was too hazy to afford any chance of discerning the north shore. They held on doggedly, but they had not been paddling north an hour when rain began to fall, fine and cold. It was driven from the northeast by the wind, that grew constantly stronger, penetrating their heavy clothes with its damp chill. All hope of finding the Island of Yellow Sands that day vanished from their hearts. Moreover the north shore must still be far away, and there seemed no chance of gaining it against a northeast storm that was steadily increasing in fury.

They struggled forward against wind and waves for a little while longer, but their paddles were of almost no avail to make headway. The most they could do was to keep the canoe right side up and avoid shipping water enough to sink it. At last the Indian did the only wise thing he could do under the circumstances. He gave the order to turn the boat and run with the wind. They could no longer make way against it, but, if they could keep the canoe from being swamped by following waves, the gale might bear them back to Minong and safety. The northwest direction of the storm was at least favorable to the attempt. The chief danger in running with the wind would be from the following waves that might easily overwhelm them. To increase their speed the boys tried to raise a sail, but a sudden gust, accompanied by sleet, which drove down upon them with great force, tore the blanket from their hands and blew it away. They could ill afford to spare their blankets, and they made no further attempt at sailing.

All their efforts were now devoted to keeping the canoe from being caught and up-ended or deluged by the waves, and in bailing out the water that threatened to swamp it. The wind blew a gale, lashing them with rain and stinging sleet that would have chilled them through if they had not had to work so hard. As it was they were so wholly taken up with the struggle to keep from going to the bottom, that they had no time to think of bodily discomfort, even though their clothes were soaked, their faces stinging, their hands aching with cold.

In a far shorter time than it had taken them to paddle to the north and east, the wind bore them back to the southwest. So close to its northwestern side that they could distinguish its cliffs through the rain and sleet, they ran by the island they had left a few hours before. There was no possibility of making a landing, and they began to fear that they would be borne past Minong also.

The great island extends several miles farther to the westward, however, and its outlying points and small islands lay directly in their way, too directly for safety. Their course was a little too westerly to take them close to the high ridge. They were driven past the land that lay to the northwest of the ridge, and down among islands and reefs. At no time since the storm broke had they been in more imminent peril. The gale was so strong, the waves so high, they could no longer steer their little craft. They were carried close to reefs and islands, missing by a few feet or even inches being cast upon the rocks. Yet they found no place where, with a sudden twist of the paddle, they might shoot through into shelter.

The thundering of breakers sounded straight ahead. Through the rain and sleet, land appeared suddenly. Powerless to escape it, they had just time to lift their paddles from the water, when the surf caught the canoe and flung it on the beach. Instantly they were over the side, struggling for a foothold on the slippery pebbles, as the receding wave tried to drag them back. Grasping the bars of the canoe, they managed to scramble up the narrow beach with it, but before they could bear it to safety, another wave caught them and flung them forward on their faces. Jean lost his hold. But Etienne and Ronald clung to it, and, resisting the pull of the water, managed to drag the boat forward into a thicket above the reach of the waves.

The three were safe, though somewhat bruised and battered, but the canoe was split and shattered by its rough handling, and, what was worse, everything it had contained had been thrown out into the water. Scarcely waiting to get their breaths, the castaways set about rescuing what they could. By running down the narrow, slanting beach and plunging into the water between waves, they managed to save the gun and one bow. In a desperate attempt to rescue the package of food, Jean was caught by a wave and might have been drowned, if Ronald had not seized him in time and dragged him back. The bark-covered package was carried out to deep water and disappeared. One of the blankets and the roll of apakwas were flung high on shore, and caught in a stunted bush that ordinarily would have been well above water line. Fortunately the three always carried their light axes, their knives, fishing tackle and other little things on their persons, so those were saved also. Everything else, including the other blanket, the caribou hide, and the cedar cord net, was lost.