[CHAPTER X]
THE START
The sun was not very high when they pushed off. The wind blew in gusts from the southeast and the sky was obscured by a loose bank of clouds which occasionally gave down a little rain.
The bow paddle was wielded by a gigantic Indian, known as Hamset; while in the stern, occupying the position of steersman, sat a much smaller man, whose unpronounceable Ucletah name had been shortened for convenience to "Jimmie." Between the bow and the stern, seated on rolls of blankets, were the four whites—first, Fannin, then Charlie, the cook, then Hugh, and last of all Jack. Each was provided with a paddle, and they worked two on each side of the canoe. The provisions were stored in one box, the mess kit in another, and the rolls of blankets were placed in the bottom of the canoe so as to trim it properly. The canoe was quite dry, and loose boards on the bottom would keep the cargo from getting wet, even if a little water were shipped.
The breeze which was now blowing was a favorable one; and they had hardly started before it began to rain steadily and to threaten a wet, boisterous day. Fannin was in great spirits at this prospect; for he, better than any one else, knew what a few days of favoring winds would accomplish toward hastening them along on their voyage. As the rain fell harder mats and rubber blankets were spread over the guns and bedding. The sail was hoisted, and all hands except the steersman took in their paddles and sat back with a satisfied air, as if they had nothing to do except to watch the breeze blowing and the land moving by them.
Farther to the southward there had been many islands, which would have cut off the breeze; but here the open waters of the Gulf stretched away to windward for twenty or thirty miles, and there was nothing to break the force of the breeze. As they advanced various islands appeared, Texada showing a high peak above the fog; and then other smaller islands,—Denman and Hornby.
The wind kept blowing harder and harder, until at noon quite a sea was running, and the waves began to break over the sides of the vessel, necessitating bailing. The canoe was heavily loaded and set rather low in the water, cutting through the waves instead of riding over them as it should have done. This pleasant condition of things lasted for some time, but about two o'clock the sky cleared, the wind fell, and it was necessary to take to the paddles once more, for now the sail flapped idly against the mast and the canoe began to float back toward Nanaimo—the tide having turned. The sea became as smooth as glass, the sun glared down from the unclouded sky with summery fierceness, and after a little while the travellers realized that the canoe trip might mean a lot of hard work. More than that, the canoe seemed to be anchored to the bottom, and, so far as could be judged from occasional glances toward the distant shore, did not move at all. The work became harder and harder, and Hugh and Jack at last realized that here was a struggle between the paddles and the tide, with the chances rather in favor of the tide. This, of course, meant that they must work harder. Coats were stripped off, the crew bent to their work, and at last found that the craft did move, although very, very slowly.
After a half hour's hard paddling Jack said to Hugh: "I tell you, Hugh, watching that shore is like watching the hands of a watch. If you look at the shore you would think that we were perfectly motionless. It's only when you take some object on the beach and notice its position, and then, five or ten minutes later, look at it again that you find that our position has changed with relation to it, and that it is farther behind than it was when you last saw it."