The wind was from the south and not a sound was heard till,
suddenly, we found ourselves almost upon the brink of the slope,
and only by dint of hard paddling reached the shore just at its
edge. It was the first and only time we had been caught in this
way. Again came the question, "Will they never end?"
The rapids stretched on before us turbulent and noisy, as before,
first west then swinging abruptly to the north. Joe and Gilbert
decided to portage across the point, but George and Job after much
consideration prepared to run down in the canoe while I walked
across to the little bay below.
As they were starting off I said to George, "When you get out
beyond those points you should be able to see the island opposite
the post."
"All right, I'll watch for it," he replied with a smile, and they
started.
Pushing off, they worked the canoe cautiously out to where they
meant to take the rapid. It was something more of a feat then they
had looked for, and suddenly after strenuous but ineffectual
efforts to make the canoe do what they wanted, they dropped into
the bottom, and to my amazement I saw it shoot forward stern
foremost into the rapid. The men had been quick as the water
though, and in dropping to their places had turned about, so that
they were not quite helpless. I stood watching them, hardly daring
to breathe.
The canoe danced like an autumn leaf in the swells of the rapid,
and Job's excited shouting came faintly over the sound of the
water. At what a pace they were going? Was the canoe under
control? I could not tell. What would happen when they reached
the point where the water swings round to the north again? In an
agony of suspense I watched and waited. Now they were nearing the
critical point. And - now - -_they had passed it_, and with a wild
cry of triumph turned towards the little bay below. As they drew
in to where I waited for them, George waved his cap to me and
shouted, "I saw the island."
We passed out beyond the point below and there it lay, some miles
away, in the quiet water, with the sunshine of the calm Sabbath
morning flooding down upon it. But the post was not yet in sight.
Quite out of harmony with the still dignity of the day and the
scenes of desolate grandeur about was the mind within me. The
excitement at the rapid had seemed to increase the strain I was
under, and every moment it became more intense. I did wish that
the men would not chat and laugh in the unconcerned way they were
doing, and they paddled as leisurely as if I were not in a hurry at
all. If only I could reach the post and ask about the ship! If
only I might fly out over the water without waiting for these
leisurely paddles! And now, from being in an agony of fear for
their lives, my strong desire was to take them by their collars and
knock their heads together hard. This was not practicable in the
canoe, however, and I was fain to control myself as best I might.
Once I said to George, "Do hurry a little," and for two minutes he
paddled strenuously; but soon it was again the merry chat and the
leisurely dip, dip of the paddles. I think they were laughing at
me a little and had also in their minds the fun it would be to see
me bring out my precious tea again for lunch.
Suddenly we descried a white speck on a point some distance away,
and drawing nearer saw people moving about. Then we discovered
that a boat was out at some nets, and on reaching it found an
Eskimo fisherman and his son taking in the catch. He smiled
broadly as he came to the end of his boat to shake hands with us,
and my heart sank dully, for his face and manner plainly indicated
that he had been expecting us. This could only be explained by the
fact that the ship had been to the post bringing with her the news
of my attempted crossing. We spoke to him in English, which he
seemed to understand, but replied in Eskimo, which we were helpless
to make anything of, and after a vain struggle for the much desired
news as to the ship, we left him and proceeded on our way.
I sat thinking desperately of the Eskimo, of the way he had
received us and its portent. There could be only one explanation.
I had no heart now for the competition as to who should first sight
the post. Yet how we hope even when there is nothing left to us
but the absence of certainty! I could not quite give up yet.
Suddenly George exclaimed, "There it is." Somehow he seemed nearly
always to see things first.
There it was deep in a cove, on the right bank of the river, a
little group of tiny buildings nestling in at the foot of a
mountain of solid rock. It seemed almost microscopic in the midst
of such surroundings. The tide was low and a great, boulder-
strewn, mud flat stretched from side to side of the cove. Down
from the hills to the east flowed a little stream winding its way
through a tortuous channel as it passed out to the river. We
turned into it and followed it up, passing between high mud-banks
which obscured the post till we reached a bend where the channel
bore away to the farther side of the cove.
