Hastily launching one of the canoes, and rigging up our rods, my companion and myself, eager for the fray, commenced tempting the innocent inhabitants of the deep with delusive baits. Evidently Mr. Red Hackle was not one of their intimate acquaintances, and they took to him amazingly. The god of day was already declining behind the western hills, and casting long shadows over the now placid water, but the fish leaped at the fly in innumerable numbers, giving us such sport as we at least never enjoyed before. At almost every cast a trout, varying in size from a quarter of a pound to two pounds and a half, plunging out of water, seized the fly fearlessly in his mouth, while often two or three were on the line at once. Large or small, they were most vigorous, making fierce struggles and mad rushes to escape, their silver sides glancing through the water, and their tails lashing it into a foam. No dull, heavy, logy fish were they, but active and lively, and excellent was the sport they gave; so that when our men, having improvised a kitchen on the rocks, called to us that supper was ready, we were loath to leave our sport. It was then eight o’clock; we had been fishing about three hours, and over one hundred and twenty fish, averaging about half a pound, were the net reward of our skill.
The scene, as we took our supper upon the end of an old tumble-down dock, was peculiar. The light of the fires, making the surrounding darkness the deeper, served alone to illumine with lurid brightness the faces and fantastic dresses of our men, while the roar of the cataract shut out all other sounds. The chaloupe lay below us, its outline just defined upon the dark water, while we, seated upon a log, drank our tea and feasted right royally upon fresh trout and other comforts that civilization had provided us.
Truly incomprehensible are the Habitans of Canada. One of the few inhabitants being without any eatable thing in the house, having scraped the flour barrel till he had scraped off splinters of wood, and, except for our arrival, without the prospect of a meal for the morrow, had soothed his sorrows by inviting his neighbors to a ball. Of course there was no supper; but the music of one fiddle, and the merry spirits of the Canadian girls made up for the deficiency, and when we joined them, after our tea, they all seemed as happy as though stomachs never grew hungry or limbs tired. Being politely offered the belles, we joined the festivities, our potables adding to the merriment of the party, till, with the prospect of a hard day’s work on the morrow, we thought best to retire to the dressing-room and camp upon the floor for the night. Although the bed was hard, and our rest somewhat disturbed by visions of beautiful creatures arranging their hair and dresses by the light of a tallow candle, before the looking-glass in our room, and at last donning their hats for a final departure, we slept tolerably, and the early dawn saw us on our feet, preparing for our departure.
While the men were carrying out our directions, in anticipation of a long absence from civilization, the attractions of the finny tribe were too seductive, and we, yielding to their enticements, again cast our lines in pleasant places, and again, in about three hours, captured over eighty of the speckled silver-sides. The largest weighed two pounds and a half, and was the best fish taken, thus far.
The barrels were arranged, the salt was purchased and stowed, the canoes made fast, the sails set, and, blessed by a still more favorable southwest wind, we got under way for La Val. Its mouth was only about one mile distant, but we intended to ascend it as far as possible with the chaloupe, on the rising tide, and were thankful for the favoring wind. At its outlet lies an island of the same name with the river, behind which stretches a broad, rocky, shallow bay. We escaped by grazing several rocks, and entered a sluggish, canal-like, dirty river, as unlike the La Val of a few miles above as anything can be conceived, and ploughed our way through crowding shoals of sardines, that rose so thick as to tempt us to try to catch them with a scap net. But where the rocks began to be visible as the water became clearer, we drew the chaloupe to the shore, and anchoring her stem and stern, loaded our canoes for the ascent of the river. We took with us the essentials of our camp life, intending to send back for the superfluities after we had established a permanent camp; the river being too low, our canoes would not carry a heavy load.
Armed with iron-shod poles to shove up the rapids, and paddles for the deeper pools, our Canadians took their places and we commenced our ascent. My companion was an expert canoeman, but for myself it was my first real lesson in the unsteady little shells, and seated upon the bottom I awaited every moment a sudden bath. Here the water was comparatively smooth, and little was I prepared for the falls and rapids that were ere long to steady my nerves for anything, and prove what a canoe can do when it is well handled.
While our head guide, with the musical taste that is inherent in the French nature, rang forth—
“Aimez-moi Nicolas,”
the paddles were being plied vigorously, and we shot into the narrow cleft that forms the bed of the La Val. Straight up from the water’s edge sprung the hills on each side, their grey rocks scarcely half covered with stunted spruce, pine and hemlock, and rarely leaving margin enough for underwood to grow upon the bank. The water, now limpid as crystal, poured down in an ever increasing current, and here and there boiled over a hidden rock. On we forced our way, a bald eagle the only contestant for our sole occupancy of the river, past the grey cliffs, the sombre trees, through dark pools, up rapid currents, by banks of clay greyer than the granite hills themselves. On, on, with steady exertions, at every moment ascending toward the source of the wild stream. The water became shoaler, the currents stronger, and the rapids more rocky as we advanced.
Poling up the rapids was strange indeed. Imagine a torrent pouring, hissing and boiling down over rocks, where the foam glistened and the spray danced into the air, sweeping through narrow channels and leaping up and curling over in crested waves; imagine a light, fragile boat, that a man could lift with one hand, forced against such a current, between or even over the rocks, swayed about, swept hither and thither, and once in a while caught broadside on, and, unless quickly righted, carried to instant destruction. Imagine the excited efforts, the quick directions of the steersman, or forward boatman, whose care it is to head the canoe straight, to choose at a glance the deepest channel, and to keep her clear as possible from the rocks. “Arrête! avance! pousse! à droite! à gauche!” with a thousand others, come streaming forth as she touches, swings round, or tries to take her own head. At times she stops entirely, and by main force alone is she pushed over; the rock being distinctly felt as it bends the thin bark, that by its elasticity gives to the pressure and springs to its place the next instant. The men stand erect, exerting all their strength, and handle their poles like a Paddy his shillelah, first on one side, then on the other, then in front and then behind, the iron taking a firm hold of the slippery rocks. Such was our ascent, and deeply interesting it proved to me, although at first it seemed inevitable that the foaming water must ingulf us all, and, destroying our provisions, leave us, if we escaped at all, shipwrecked mariners upon a desolate coast.