Hudson Bay by Robert Michael Ballantyne (the little red hen ebook TXT) 📕

prospect of a good mutton-chop.

The fire was soon made, the kettle on, and everything in preparation, when the dreadful discovery was made that the whole of the fresh mutton had been forgotten! Words cannot paint our consternation at this discovery. Poor Mrs Bain sat in mute despair, thinking of the misery of being reduced again to salt pork; while her husband, who had hitherto stood aghast, jumped suddenly forward, and seizing a bag of fine potatoes that had been given to the men, threw it, in a transport of rage, into the lake, vowing that as we were, by their negligence, to be deprived of our mutton, they certainly should also be sufferers with us.

It was very laughable to behold the rueful countenances of the men as their beautiful, large white potatoes sank to the bottom of the clear lake, and shone brightly there, as if to tantalise them, while the rippling water caused them to quiver so much that the lake seemed to rest on a pavement of huge potatoes! None dared, however, attempt to recover one; but after a while, when Mr Bain's back was turned, a man crept cautiously down to the water's edge, and gathered as many as were within reach--always, however, keeping an eye on his master, and stooping in an attitude that would permit of his bolting up on the slightest indication of a wrathful movement.

It would be tedious, as well as unnecessary, to recount here all the minutiae of our voyage across Lake Superior; I shall merely touch on a few of the more particular incidents.

On the 1st of October we arrived at the Pic House [see note 2], where we spent the night; and, after a rough voyage, reached Michipicoton on the 4th. Our voyage along Lake Superior was very stormy and harassing, reminding us often of Lake Winnipeg. Sometimes we were paddling along over the smooth water, and at other times _lying-by_, while the lake was lashed into a mass of foam and billows by a strong gale. So much detention, and the lateness of the season, rendered it necessary to take advantage of every lull and calm hour that occurred, so that we travelled a good deal during the night. This sort of travelling was very romantic.

On one occasion, after having been ashore two days, the wind moderated in the afternoon, and we determined to proceed, if possible. The sun set gloriously, giving promise of fine weather. The sky was clear and cloudless, and the lake calm. For an hour or so the men sang as they paddled, but as the shades of evening fell they ceased; and as it was getting rather chilly, I wrapped myself in my green blanket (which served me for a boat-cloak as well as a bed), and soon fell fast asleep.

How long I slept I know not; but when I awoke, the regular, rapid hiss of the paddles struck upon my ear, and upon throwing off the blanket the first thing that met my eye was the dark sky, spangled with the most gorgeous and brilliant stars I ever beheld. The whole scene, indeed, was one of the most magnificent and awful that can be imagined. On our left hand rose tremendous precipices and cliffs, around the bottom and among the caverns of which the black waters of the lake curled quietly (for a most death-like, unearthly calm prevailed), sending forth a faint hollow murmur, which ended, at long intervals, in a low melancholy cadence. Before and behind us abrupt craggy islands rose from the water, assuming every imaginable and unimaginable shape in the uncertain light; while on the right the eye ranged over the inky lake till it was lost in thick darkness. A thin, transparent night-fog added to the mystical appearance of the scene, upon which I looked with mingled feelings of wonder and awe. The only distinct sound that could be heard was the measured sound of the paddles, which the men plied in silence, as if unwilling to break the stillness of the night. Suddenly the guide uttered in a hoarse whisper, "_A terre_!" startling the sleepy men, and rendering the succeeding silence still more impressive.

The canoe glided noiselessly through a maze of narrow passages among the tall cliffs, and grounded on a stony beach. Everything was then carried up, and the tents pitched in the dark, as no wood could be conveniently found for the purpose of making a fire; and without taking any supper, or even breaking the solemn silence of the night, we spread our beds as we best could upon the round stones (some of which were larger than a man's fist), and sank into repose. About a couple of hours afterwards we were roused by the anxious guide, and told to embark again. In this way we travelled at night or by day, as the weather permitted--and even, upon one or two occasions, both night and day--till the 12th of October, when we arrived at the _Sault de Ste. Marie_, which is situated at the termination of Lake Superior, just as our provisions were exhausted.

We had thus taken eighteen days to coast the lake. This was very slow going indeed, the usual time for coasting the lake in a north canoe being from eight to ten days.

The Sault de Ste. Marie is a large rapid, which carries the waters of Lake Superior into Lake Huron. It separates the British from the American possessions, and is fortified on the American side by a large wooden fort, in which a body of soldiers are constantly resident. There is also a pretty large village of Americans, which is rapidly increasing. The British side is not fortified; and, indeed, there are no houses of any kind except the few belonging to the Hudson Bay Company. This may be considered the extreme outskirts of civilisation, being the first place where I had seen any number of people collected together who were unconnected with the Hudson Bay Company.

I was not destined, however, to enjoy the sight of new faces long, for next morning we started to coast round the northern and uninhabited shores of Lake Huron, and so down the Ottawa to Montreal. Mr and Mrs Bain left me here, and proceeded by the route of the Lakes.

During the next few days we travelled through a number of rivers and lakes of various sizes; among the latter were Lakes Huron and Nipisingue. In crossing the latter, I observed a point on which were erected fourteen rough wooden crosses. Such an unusual sight excited my curiosity, and upon inquiring I found that they were planted there to mark the place where a canoe, containing fourteen men, had been upset in a gale, and every soul lost. The lake was clear and smooth when we passed the melancholy spot, and many a rolling year has defaced and cast down the crosses since the unfortunate men whose sad fate they commemorate perished in the storm.

While searching about the shore one night for wood to make a fire, one of our men found a large basket, made of bark, and filled with fine bears'-grease, which had been hid by some Indians. This was considered a great windfall; and ere two days were passed the whole of it was eaten by the men, who buttered their flour cakes with it profusely.

Not long after this we passed a large waterfall, where a friend of mine was once very nearly lost. A projecting point obliges the traveller to run his canoe rather near the head of the fall, for the purpose of landing to make the portage. From long habit the guides had been accustomed to this, and always effected the doubling of the point in safety. Upon this occasion, however, either from carelessness or accident, the canoe got into the strong current, and almost in an instant was swept down towards the fall. To turn the head of the canoe up the stream, and paddle for their lives, was the work of a moment; but before they got it fairly round they were on the very brink of the cataract, which, had they gone over it, would have dashed them to a thousand atoms. They paddled with the strength of desperation, but so strong was the current that they remained almost stationary. At last they began slowly to ascend--an inch at a time--and finally reached the bank in safety.

On Sunday the 19th of October we commenced descending the magnificent river Ottawa, and began to feel that we were at last approaching the civilised nations of the earth. During the day we passed several small log-huts, or shanties, which are the temporary dwelling-places of men who penetrate thus far into the forest for the purpose of cutting timber. A canoe full of these adventurous pioneers also passed us; and in the evening we reached Fort Mattawan, one of the Company's stations. At night we encamped along with a party who were taking provisions to the wood-cutters.

The scenery on the Ottawa is beautiful, and as we descended the stream it was rendered more picturesque and interesting by the appearance, occasionally, of that, to us, unusual sight, a farmhouse. They were too few and far between, however, to permit of our taking advantage of the inhabitants' hospitality, and for the next four days we continued to make our encampments in the woods as heretofore. At one of these frontier farms our worthy guide discovered, to his unutterable astonishment and delight, an old friend and fellow-voyageur, to greet whom he put ashore. The meeting was strange: instead of shaking hands warmly, as I had expected, they stood for a moment gazing in astonishment, and then, with perfect solemnity, kissed each other--not gently on the cheek, but with a good hearty smack on their sunburnt lips. After conversing for a little, they parted with another kiss.

On the fourth day after this event we came in sight of the village of Aylmer, which lay calmly on the sloping banks of the river, its church spire glittering in the sun, and its white houses reflected in the stream.

It is difficult to express the feelings of delight with which I gazed upon this little village, after my long banishment from the civilised world. It was like recovering from a trance of four long dreamy years; and I wandered about the streets, gazing in joy and admiration upon everything and everybody, but especially upon the ladies, who appeared quite a strange race of beings to me--and all of them looked so beautiful in my eyes (long accustomed to Indian dames), that I fell in love with every one individually that passed me in the village. In this happy mood I sauntered about, utterly oblivious of the fact that my men had been left in a public-house, and would infallibly, if not prevented, get dead drunk. I was soon awakened to this startling probability by the guide, who walked up the road in a very solemn I'm-not-at-all-drunk sort of a manner, peering about on every side, evidently in search of me. Having found me, he burst into an expression of unbounded joy; and then, recollecting that this was inconsistent with his assumed character of sobriety, became awfully grave, and told me that we must start soon, as the men were all getting tipsy.

The following day we arrived at Bytown.

This town is picturesquely situated on the brow of a stupendous cliff, which descends precipitously into the Ottawa. Just above the town a