Jack the Young Canoeman: An Eastern Boy's Voyage in a Chinook Canoe

by George Bird Grinnell

"Why, from a trading schooner, of course," said Fannin. "There are three or four small schooners that sail up and down the coast here, trading with the Indians for oil and fish, and a little fur, and the chances are that the tin came from some old tin can thrown overboard by such a schooner, and that the tacks were bought from it. Of course it may be that these people have been to Comux or even to Nanaimo."

"That salmon spear is interesting, too," said Jack, "and I hope we'll have a chance to get some food with it."

"These spears," replied Fannin, "are very useful to these people. This one, as you see, is about sixteen feet long, the main shaft being about twelve feet and the two prongs about four. It is a well finished tool and rather attractive to the eye, wrapped as it is with the neat strips of bark about the ends of the shaft. That flat handle with the deep notches at the upper end, for two of the fingers of the man who is to throw it, give a good hold. Then the two prongs at the other end bound firmly to the shaft, and tapering to a point below, and slightly diverging, make a good implement for throwing into a school of fish; but the interesting part of the thing is the way the spear heads are fastened on to make it effective. You see the line looped about the shaft close above the point where the diverging prongs leave it, that each end of the line is long enough to reach clear to the end of the prongs, and that to each extremity of this line is attached a spear point. The socket which slips on the sharpened end of the prong is made of the horn of the deer, or of the mountain goat, or even of bone; and the piercing point is either a sharpened nail or some other sharp bit of iron lashed to the socket with a fishing line or a strand of kelp. When the spear is to be used, the heads are slipped on to the points of the prongs, and are held in position by the tension of the cord, which is so short that some little effort is needed to slip the socket on to the point. When a salmon has been deeply pierced by the iron point, his struggles slip the socket off the prong and the fish struggles about for a few moments at the end of the cord until he is so exhausted that he can be brought to the surface of the water and lifted into the canoe. If the point were firmly attached to the prongs the attempt to haul a vigorous fish to the surface might very well result in the pulling out of the spear point and the loss of the fish."

All the day long the canoe moved slowly down the Inlet, stemming the flood tide which at times made them all work at their paddles with an energy that no one of the crew greatly enjoyed. Before them the snowy tops of the mountains and the blue glaciers looked cool and inviting, but no breath of air ruffled the smooth surface of the Inlet, and the fierce rays of the sun, both direct and reflected from the water, scorched them all day long. About the middle of the afternoon, as they were passing a point opposite Moorsam Bluffs, a level spot was found, covered with forest. A pleasant brook ran down here, and the spot looked like an attractive camping place. When they landed they found evidences that it was one favored by the Indians of the Inlet, for there were here relics of many a camp. Piles of stone blackened by fire, white heaps of the bones of the deer and mountain goat, decayed vegetation and fragments of discarded clothing and skins, worn-out implements, a tiny baby basket or Indian cradle, and many other articles left by former occupants were scattered about over the ground, and showed that the Indians often stopped there and sometimes remained for a considerable time. In fact there were so many evidences of human occupancy that it was agreed that some other spot which had not been quite so much frequented by Indians would be a better location for their camp; and moving a few hundred yards further down the Inlet they found such a place at the mouth of the boisterous brook which here tumbled into the salt water.

Here Jack and Hugh and Fannin, finding a good beach, took a plunge in the salt water, and while thus engaged found that the little bay was alive with salmon. On shouting this to the others the Indians put off in the canoe, and for half an hour Hamset perseveringly threw the salmon spear into the school of fish that were breaking everywhere about the canoe. For a few minutes Jack and Hugh watched him; but as he failed to secure anything, they soon grew tired, and at length went ashore into the camp. Half an hour later the canoe returned to the shore, and the Indians had three good-sized fish to show for their efforts.

"Well," said Hugh, "from the number of fish that seemed to be out there in that little piece of water, I should think these fellows might have loaded the canoe with them in this time."

"Yes," said Fannin, "that's true; but it's wonderful how much room there is in the water around a salmon, and then you have got to hit the fish just right or else you will not drive the spear into him. If you are not used to seeing salmon you will think there's an awful lot of fish out there; but you just ought to see them in some of the rivers in the Province here. Why, sometimes they are so thick that you literally can't see the bottom for their backs. A good many people, who have never been on a stream during the salmon run, think that the stories about their abundance must be lies; but they are not. You can't exaggerate their numbers. I have seen people go down to the stream with a pitchfork, and throw out the fish they wanted onto the bank, just as you would lift a load of turnips on a fork if you thrust it into a pile of them. When the fish are running, of course, the bears and eagles have no trouble at all in catching all they want. Even the hogs go down to the stream and take out the fish. In fact, during the salmon run, and for some months after it, settlers who expect to kill their hogs keep them shut up; because, if they are allowed to feed on the salmon the flesh becomes flavored with fish to a point where people can't eat it. That sounds like a pretty good story too, but it's true. Later in the season, when the dead fish are in the streams,—and there are always many of them,—the hens of the settlers eat them, and often eat so many that their eggs can't be used on account of the fishy taste. That's another good one, but it's true."

"Well," said Hugh, "those stories sound pretty hard to believe, but I guess they are true. Of course we've always heard about buffaloes, and how many there used to be, and I expect I've told stories to people who had never seen them, about the numbers of these animals that sounded just as hard to believe as your stories do to me. It don't trouble me a little bit to believe what you told me about the taste of the flesh of these animals. Everybody knows, I reckon, that the food that an animal eats gives its flesh good flavor or bad flavor."

"Yes," said Jack, "that's so, of course. I have heard my uncle tell a great many times about some kinds of ducks living up on Long Island and eating little clams and other shell-fish, and being strong and fishy to the taste, while the same ducks, when they go down South and live in water that is fresh or nearly so, eating nothing but grass and roots, are as delicate and fine flavored as can be."

"That's gospel truth, son," said Hugh, "and you see the same thing out on the plains and in the mountains. Take it early in the season, before the grass begins to grow, and the first green thing that grows out of the earth is a wild onion. If you kill, up at the edge of the mountains, a buffalo or a mountain sheep, just after these onions have sprung up, you can hardly eat the meat."