Cameron of Lochiel

by Philippe Aubert de Gaspé

"I understand without having the key," said Lochiel. "Those are certain prearranged signals which are exchanged between the dwellers on the opposite shores in order to communicate matters of personal interest."

"Yes," answered Uncle Raoul; "and if we were on the north shore we should observe similar signals on this side. If a fire burns long and steadily, that is good news; if it sinks gradually, that is a sign of sickness; if it is extinguished suddenly, that means death; if it is so extinguished more than once, that signifies so many deaths. For a grown person, a strong blaze; for a child, a feeble one. The means of intercourse being scanty enough even in summer, and entirely cut off during winter, the habitants, made ingenious by necessity, have invented this simple expedient.

"The same signals," continued Uncle Raoul, "are understood by all the sailors, who use them in time of wreck to convey information of their distress. Only last year five of our best huntsmen would have starved to death but for this on the shoals of the Loups-Marins. Toward the middle of March there was a sudden change in the weather. The ice went out all at once and the ducks, geese, and brant made their appearance in astonishing numbers. Five of our hunters, well supplied with provisions—for the weather is treacherous in Canada—set out at once for the Loups-Marins; but the birds were so numerous that they left their provisions in the canoe (which they tied carelessly in front of their hut), and ran to take their places in the ditch which they had to get scooped out before the return of the tide. This ditch, you must know, is a trough dug in the mud to a depth of three or four feet, wherein the hunter lies in wait for his game, which are very wary, the geese and brant particularly. It is a wretchedly uncomfortable kind of hunting, for you have to crouch in these holes, with your dog, often for seven or eight hours at a stretch. You have no lack of occupation to kill time, however, for you have to keep bailing out the muddy water which threatens to drown you.

"All was in proper shape, and our hunters were expecting with the rising tide an ample reward for their pains, when suddenly there came up a frightful storm. The sleet was driven by the wind in such dense clouds that the birds could not be seen six feet away. Our hunters, having waited patiently until flood tide, which drove them from their posts, returned to their hut, where a dreadful surprise awaited them; their canoe had been carried away by the storm, and there remained, to feed five men, only one loaf of bread and one bottle of brandy, which they had taken into the hut on their arrival, that they might indulge in a snack before getting to work. They went to bed without supper, for the snow-storm might last three days, and, being about three leagues from either shore, it would be impossible, in such weather, for their signals of distress to be seen. But their calculations fell far short of the fact. A second winter had set in. The cold became very severe, the snow continued falling for eight days, and the river was once more filled with ice as in January.

Then they began to make their signals, which could be seen from both shores; but it was impossible to go to their aid. The signals of distress were followed by those of death. The fire was lighted every evening and immediately extinguished. When three of the party were reported dead, some habitants, at the imminent risk of their lives, did all that could be expected of the bravest men; but in vain, for the river was so thick with ice cakes that the canoes were carried up and down with the ebb and flow of the tide, and could not get near the scene of the disaster. It was not until the seventeenth day that they were rescued by a canoe from Isle aux Coudres. When the rescuing party arrived they heard no sound in the hut, and feared they were too late. The sufferers were still alive, however, and after a few weeks of care were quite themselves again; but they had learned a lesson they were not likely to forget, and the next time they go hunting on the Loups-Marins they will haul their canoe up out of reach of high tide."

At last Uncle Raoul came to an end, just as anybody else would.

"Dear uncle," said Blanche, "do you not know a song appropriate to so delicious a night as this, and so enchanting a scene?"

"Hear! hear!" exclaimed the young men, "a song from Uncle Raoul!"

This was assailing the chevalier on his weak point. He was a singer, and very proud of it. Without further pressing he began, in a splendid tenor voice, the following song, which he sang with peculiar feeling as a brave hunter adorned with his scars. While acknowledging that his verses took many a liberty with the rules of rhyme, he declared that these defects were redeemed by the vividness and originality of the composition.