Sailors fear a shelterless coast much more than they fear storms and waves of the open sea. Although Ganawa was afraid to sail over the open lake for thirty-five miles, Bruce persuaded him that with the wind in their favor, it would be much safer to sail directly for Quebec Harbor on the south side of the island rather than creep along the harborless north shore, then approach the island on the wind and wave-swept north side and then paddle or sail around to the harbor on the south side. On such a trip, Bruce convinced Ganawa, they would surely have to travel against the wind or even in [[246]]the trough of the waves part of the time. “Look, Father,” Bruce closed his argument, drawing a figure in the sand, “we should have to go something like this:
Let us sail straight with the wind.”
Bruce had put a mast in the boat and made a sail out of a blanket; and when he showed Ganawa how quickly he could unfurl and reef his sail, the old hunter was convinced.
“My son,” he said, “a good Indian can paddle a canoe on a mad river and a good white man can sail a boat over the mad waves of the sea and the Big Lake. My sons, we shall sail straight to the island over the open lake.” [[247]]
CHAPTER XXXI
SAILING THE “PIRATE”
A few days later with a gentle easterly breeze Ganawa and his white sons sailed for Michipicoten Island with their bark canoe in tow. Bruce handled the sail, Ray steered, and Ganawa used his paddle.
Ganawa’s heart nearly failed him when he found how strongly the wind blew after they had cleared the sheltered bay. The sky was almost cloudless, and a few white gulls lazily accompanied the travellers as if they were curious about the strange craft that had appeared on their own blue sea. As Ray watched them gracefully sailing around the boat, he wondered very much how they could sail up and down, back and forth without any apparent motion of their wings.