There were islands rich with verdure; there were islets brown and rocky, there were great level places hemmed in by the river where magnificent summer residences showed against the beauty of the landscape.
Now and then summer tourists hailed the Rambler from the river, and occasionally girls and boys ran down the island piers to greet her with the waving of flags. It was a glorious trip.
Captain Joe explained many features of the stream as they passed up, and as long as the boys lived they remembered the shimmer of the sun on the island foliage, the white-fringed waves rumpled by the light wind, and the voice of the kind old man telling them the experiences of a life time.
Just before sundown, after one of the pleasantest days they ever experienced, the boys reached Kingston. Captain Joe seemed disinclined to leave the boat that night, and so the boys spent three hours wandering up and down the streets of the historic old city. Off to the west lay the famous Bay of Quinte. Farther south was Sackett’s Harbor, while between the two lay Wolfe island, stuck into the mouth of the St. Lawrence river like a great plug. The boys enjoyed the night ramble immensely.
“Now, Captain Joe,” Clay said in the morning, “suppose we circle Wolfe island, inspect the light house at Cape Vincent, and spend part of a day at Sackett’s Harbor? I don’t know of any better way to spend the next twelve hours than in making a trip like that.”
“Sackett’s Harbor was a military point during the last war with Great Britain,” Jule said, “and I’d like to look over the town.”
“Nothing much doing there now in the way of guns and soldiers,” Captain Joe said, “but, as you say, it would pay you well to spend a day on the waters in this vicinity. You may never have the chance again.”
So the Rambler headed for Cape Vincent, where they stopped long enough to inspect the big light, first taking a view of Sackett’s Harbor. About noon, they came to Clayton, where they paused long enough to inspect several groups of islands on the American side.
Then, with Captain Joe still at the helm, the boat passed down to Alexandria Bay where they tied up for the night.
“To-morrow,” Captain Joe said, as the boys made great inroads on the Bismark pancakes stacked up on the table, “I’ll take you through the Lachine rapids. You’ll find we’ll have to go some.”