XIV SAILING TOWARDS THE SUNRISE
"Truly the spirit of the winds favors us." Blaise forgot for the momenthis Christian training and spoke in the manner of his Indian forefathers.He had waked at dawn and, finding the lake merely rippled by a steadywest breeze, had aroused Hugh.
So anxious were the two to take advantage of the perfect weather thatthey did not wait for breakfast, but hastily flung their blankets andcooking utensils into the boat. With the two strong paddles included inthe purchase, they ran the bateau out of the little cove where it hadlain sheltered. Then, hoisting the sail, they steered towards the dawn.
Hugh Beaupre never forgot that sail into the sunrise. Ahead of him thesky, all rose and gold and faint green blending into soft blue, met thewater without the faintest, thinnest line of land between. Before andaround the boat, the lake shimmered with the reflected tints thatglorified even the patched and dirty sail. Was he bound for the otherside of the world, for some glorious, unearthly realm beyond thatgleaming water? A sense of mingled dread and exultation swept over theboy, his face flushed, his gray eyes sparkled, his pulse quickened. Heknew the feeling of the explorer setting out for new lands, realms of heknows not what perils and delights.
The moment of thrill passed, and Hugh turned to glance at Blaise. Theyounger boy, his hand on the tiller rope, sat like a statue, his darkface tense, his shining hazel eyes betraying a kindred feeling to thatwhich had held Hugh in its thrall. Never before in all their days ofjourneying together had the white lad and the half-breed felt suchperfect comradeship. Speech was unnecessary between them.
As the sun rose higher and the day advanced, Blaise was not so sure thatfortune was favoring the venture. The wind sank until the water wasbroken by the merest ripple only. There was scarcely enough pressureagainst the sail to keep the boat moving.
"At this rate we shall be a week in reaching the island," said Hugh,anxiously eying the canvas. "We can go faster with the paddles. Lash therudder and we'll try the blades."
For the first time since they had changed from canoe to sailboat Blaisevoiced an objection. "To paddle this heavy bateau is hard work," he said."We cannot keep at it all day and all night, as we could in a bark canoe.As long as the wind blows at all and we move onward, even slowly, we hadbest save our strength. Soon we shall need it. Before the sun isoverhead, there will be no wind at all, and then we must paddle."
Hugh nodded agreement, but, less patient than his half-brother, he foundit trying to sit idle waiting for the gentle breeze to die. Blaise hadprophesied truly. Before noon the sail was hanging loose and idle, thewater, blue under a cloudless sky, was without a wrinkle. It is not oftenreally hot on the open waters of Lake Superior, but that day the sunglared down upon the little boat, and the distance shimmered with heathaze. The bateau had no oars or oarlocks, only two stout paddles, andpaddling the heavy, clumsy boat was slow, hot work.
Pausing for a moment's rest after an hour's steady plying of his blade,Hugh uttered an exclamation. "Look, Blaise," he cried. "We haven't so farto go. There is the Isle Royale ahead, and not far away either."
He pointed with his blade to the hazy blue masses across the still water.High the land towered, with points and bays and detached islands.Encouraged by the sight, the two bent to their paddles.
In a few minutes Hugh cried out again. "How strange the island looks,Blaise! I don't remember any flat-topped place like that. See, it looksas if it had been sliced off with a knife."
The distant shore had taken on a strange appearance. High towering landit seemed to be, but curiously level and flattened at the top, like noland Hugh had seen around Lake Superior.
"There is something wrong," the boy went on, puzzled. "We must be off ourcourse. That is not Isle Royale, at least not the part I saw. Where arewe, Blaise? Are we going in the wrong direction? Can that be part of themainland?"
"It is not the mainland over that way," Blaise made prompt reply. "Itmust be some part of Minong." He used the Indian name for the island.
"But I saw nothing the----" Hugh began, then broke off to cry out, "Look,look, the island is changing before our eyes! It towers up there to theright, and over there, where it was high a moment ago, it shrinks andfades away!"
"It is some enchanted land," the younger boy murmured, gazing in wonderat the dim blue shapes that loomed in one place, shrank in another,changed size and form before his awestruck eyes. "It is a land ofspirits." He ceased his paddling to cross himself.
For a moment Hugh too was inclined to believe that he and his brotherwere the victims of witchcraft. But, though not free from superstition,he had less of it than the half-breed. Moreover he remembered the loomingof the very boat he was now in, when he had first seen it in the mists ofdawn, and also the rock that had looked like an island, when he was onhis way from Michilimackinac. The captain of the ship had told him ofsome of the queer visions called mirages he had seen when sailing thelakes. Turning towards Blaise, Hugh attempted to explain the strangesight ahead.
"It is the mirage. I have heard of it. The Captain of the _Athabasca_told me that the mirage is caused by the light shining through mist orlayers of cloud or air that reflect in some way we do not understand,making images of land appear where there is no land or changing theappearance of the real land. Sometimes, he said, images of islands areseen upside down in the sky, above the real water-line. It is all verystrange and no one quite understands why it comes or how, but there is noenchantment about it, Blaise."
The younger boy nodded, his eyes still on the changing, hazy shapesahead. Without reply, he resumed his paddling. How much he understood ofhis elder brother's explanation, Hugh could not tell. At any rate Blaisewas too proud to show further fear of something Hugh did not seem to beafraid of.
In silence the two plied their paddles under the hot sun, but the heavywooden boat did not respond like a bark canoe to their efforts. Progresswas very slow. White clouds were gathering in the south, moving slowly upand across the sky, though the water remained quiet. The clouds veiledthe sun. The distant land shrank to a mere blue line, its natural shapeand size, and seemed to come no nearer for all their efforts. Both boyswere growing anxious. After the heat and stillness of the day, theclouds, slow moving though they were, threatened storm. The two dug theirblades into the water, straining muscles of arms and shoulders to put alltheir strength into the stroke.
A crinkle, a ripple was spreading over the green-blue water. A breeze wascoming up from the southwest. Hugh laid down his blade to raise the sail.In the west the rays of the setting sun were breaking through the cloudsand dyeing them crimson, flame and orange. He was glad to see the sunagain, for it brought him assurance that he was keeping the course, notswinging too far to north or south.
The breeze, very light at first, strengthened after sunset and becamemore westerly, the most favorable direction. The clumsy boat and squaresail could not be made to beat against the wind, but Hugh's course was alittle north of east. He could sail directly with the wind and yet beassured of not going far out of his way. The farthest tip of land ahead,now freed from the false distortions of mirage, he took to be the end ofthe long, high shore, where, in the fissure, he and Baptiste had foundthe old bateau. That land was still very far away, other islands orpoints of the main island lying nearer.
As darkness gathered, the breeze swept away the clouds, and stars andmoon shone out. Sailing over the gently heaving water, where themoonlight made a shimmering path, was a pleasant change from paddling theheavy boat in the heat of the day. The boys' evening meal consisted of afew handfuls of hulled corn and some maple sugar, with the clear, coldlake water for drink. Both Blaise at the tiller and Hugh handling thesheet found it difficult to keep awake. The day had been a long one, butthey must remain alert to hold their course and avoid disaster.
They were approaching land now. In the moonlight, to avoid islands andprojecting rocks was not difficult. Sunken reefs were harder to discern.Only the breaking of waves upon the
rocks that rose near to the surfacebetrayed the danger. So the steersman shunned points and the ends ofislands from which hidden reefs might run out. Hugh would have been gladto camp on the first land reached, but he knew he ought to take advantageof the favorable wind and get as near as possible to the spot where thewreck lay. Shaking off his drowsiness, he gave his whole attention tonavigation.
Several islands and a number of points, that might belong either to thegreat island or to smaller bordering ones, were passed before reaching alow shore, well wooded, which Hugh felt sure he recognized. He rememberedthat the _Otter_ had been obliged to go far out around the tip to avoid along reef. He warned Blaise to steer well out, but the latter did not goquite far enough and the boat grazed a rock. No damage was done, however.The bateau was now headed for a strip of much higher land, showing darkbetween sky and water. Hugh thought that must be the towering,tree-crowned, rock shore he recalled. To land there tonight was out ofthe question. The moon had gone down, and to run, in the darkness, up thebay to the spot where the _Otter_ had taken shelter might also provedifficult. Hugh decided they had better tie up somewhere on the pointthey had just rounded. He lowered the sail and both boys took up theirpaddles. For some distance they skirted the steep, slanting rock shorewhere the trees grew down as far as they could cling.
One mountain ash had lost its footing and fallen into the lake. To thefallen tree Hugh tied the boat, in still water and under the shadow ofthe shore. Then he and Blaise rolled themselves in their blankets and laydown in the bottom. Heedless of the dew-wet planking they were asleepimmediately. The water rippled gently against the rough sides of theboat, an owl in a spruce sent forth its eerie hoots, from across thewater a loon answered with a wild, mocking cry, but the tired lads slepton undisturbed.