Superior Fishing / Or, the Striped Bass, Trout, and Black Bass of the Northern States

by Robert Barnwell Roosevelt

Fishing having proved itself vanity and flies a misconception, we returned to the tent and superintended the payment of the guides, by impressing upon Frank the necessity of giving them sufficient. One received his in a greasy, dirty hat that he had worn for several seasons, and which could hardly have improved the flavor; and the other, not having so expensive a luxury as a hat, wrapped his in a neck-cloth that had been in use day and night for years, and had never been washed. Frank gave them each, in addition, a little butter on a biscuit, and they hurried away, delighted with their treasures.

The Indian children had brought a number of agates that they had collected from time to time, and Don selected the best, which were, however, inferior specimens, and paid for them also by barter. Of course, our little friend Wajack had her store to exhibit, and received a favorable consideration from Don, who endeavored to make her understand a few English words, which were such exquisite baby-talk as to be nearly incomprehensible to the rest of us. He found in the long run that he succeeded better by holding up the proposed payment and pointing to the agate, as none of the savages presumed to ask for more than we offered.

The following morning the trout again declined positively to recognize our allurements, and the wind being fair, we concluded to commence our homeward voyage. We were sorry to part with our amusing Indian friends, notwithstanding an occasional pang of fear for our numerous articles that lay scattered about, and which it is only justice to say were entirely untouched; but as we could make nothing of the fishing, had become possessed of the best agates, and had explored the river thoroughly, we proceeded to reëmbark.

The wind was, for the first time, in every way favorable; but ere we had reached Point aux Mines it had become so violent that Frank, alarmed at the increasing roulan, began to talk of his wife and eight children, and how sorry they would be if he were drowned; and when the wind further increased, and Frank began to talk of his nine children, we concluded it was time to stop and put into a port of distress. In truth, those open, heavily laden boats are not the safest of vessels in a seaway, and yawing about as they do before every wave, have to be watched carefully lest they broach to and fill.

Charley enjoyed Frank’s terror, and would have kept on as a matter of pride till his employers were satisfied; but Frank, with streaming hair, staring eyes, and blanched countenance, was a picture of distress, and if we had not given permission, would have taken it to run behind the first friendly point.

This proved to be Point aux Mines, where in former days a copper mine had been located, and the shafts and buildings, dilapidated it is true, and fast crumbling to pieces, remained to mark the traces of man’s enterprise. The point had been purchased by a company from the Crown; but as the latter failed to pay the Indians, who were the rightful owners, they, with the assistance of many of the Canadians, among whom was our friend Charley, made a night-attack upon the post, and, by a complete surprise, captured it without loss or bloodshed. The speculation never having been profitable, the company was only too glad to be captured; and having obtained an extravagant indemnity from the home government, never resumed possession of the works.

The buildings were windowless and tenantless, and served as shelter for voyaging parties of Indians; the underground passages were falling in, the machinery was going to ruin, the platforms were rotting, and the gardens had grown up with long, rank grass.

We explored the shafts, collected some specimens of the ore, and returned to the boat in time to find the wind greatly abated, and embarking, soon arrived at the Point of Mamainse. Having fished for a short time from a rock named after one of our best New York fishermen, Stevens’s Rock, we continued our voyage, and reached the former camping-ground on the Batchawaung before dark.

The weather had changed. The rain was falling in that dull, penetrating drizzle that is so depressing to one’s spirits, and the cold air made our wet clothes and damp bed far from comfortable. Camping in a rain, building a smoky fire from damp logs, and making a bed of wet boughs, in spite of the protection of water-proof blankets, is unpleasant, although it rarely produces sickness. Don bore the discomfort with a patient composure that was an eminent example to our city exquisites, and never uttered a complaint; on the slightest provocation he would probably have proved, conclusively, that moisture was man’s natural condition, and infinitely preferable to sunshine and dry clothes.

On ascending the river next day, as Don and myself were walking along the bank we observed a rustling in the grass, and pausing, roused a flock of partridges. I shot one as they rose, and beholding them, to my great satisfaction, alight on the neighboring trees, proceeded to poach, thinking only of the pot, and shot from the trees and on the ground, in utter disregard of all sportsmanlike rules, the entire covey. They consisted of but a single brood, and the young were not more than three-quarters grown; but the anticipation of their juicy tenderness on the gridiron overpowered any qualmish sentimentality, and right glad were we to collect the ten plump, tender little fellows into a bloody pile.