Around the Camp-fire

by Sir Charles G. D. Roberts

“The boom, of course, was jointed at the pier so as to swing as on a hinge; and at a distance of perhaps seventy yards below the pier it had a second open joint. At the head of this section stood a windlass, wound with a light wire cable. At intervals of ten or twelve feet along the right-hand side of this section, for about one hundred and fifty feet in all, were hinged stout wings of two-inch plank, ten feet long and eighteen inches wide, set edgewise in the water so as to catch the current, like a rudder or a centreboard. Through iron staples, in the outer ends of these wings, ran and was fastened the cable from the windlass. When the cable was unwound, the wings lay flat against the side of the boom. But a few turns of the windlass sufficed to draw the wings out at an angle to the boom; whereupon the force of the current, sweeping strongly against their faces, would slowly sway the whole free length of the boom toward the opposite shore. The section of the sheer-boom thus peculiarly adorned was called the wing-boom. Just above the upper end of the wing-boom, at a place widened out a few feet to receive it, was built a little shanty known as the boom-house. To the spectator from the shore the boom-house seemed to be afloat on the wide, lonely level of the river.

“The office of the sheer-boom was to guide the run of the logs as they came floating briskly down from the lumber regions of the upper river. As long as the wings were not in use, and the boom swung with the current, the logs were allowed to continue their journey down the middle of the channel. But when the wings were set, and the boom stood over toward the far shore, then the stream of logs was diverted into the mouth of the stationary boom, whose chain of piers held them imprisoned till they were wanted at the mill below the island. In the boom-house dwelt an old lumberman named Mat Barnes, who, though his feet and ankles were crippled with rheumatism from exposure to the icy water in the spring stream drivings, was, nevertheless, still clever in the handling of boat or canoe, and very competent to manage the windlass and the wing-boom.

“On the southward slope of the line of uplands which, thrusting out boldly into the river, formed Crock’s Point, stood a comfortable old farmhouse in whose seclusion I was spending the months of August and September. About four o’clock in the afternoon, it was my daily habit to stroll down to the shore and hail Mat Barnes, who would presently paddle over in his skiff, and take me out to the boom for my afternoon swim. The boom was a most convenient and delightful place ‘to go in off of,’ as the boys say.

“One rough afternoon, when the boom was all awash, and the wind sweeping up the river so keen with suggestions of autumn that I was glad to do my undressing and my dressing in the boom-house, just as I was about to take my plunge Mat asked if I would mind staying and watching the boom for him while he paddled up to “the Corners” to buy himself some coffee and molasses.

“Delighted,” said I; “if you’ll get back in good time, so I won’t keep supper waiting at the farm.”

“I’ll be back inside of an hour, sure,” replied Mat confidently.

“Knowing Mat’s fondness for a little gossip at the grocery, I felt by no means so confident; but I could not hesitate to oblige him in the matter, a small enough return for the favors he was doing me daily.

“I stayed in the water nearly half an hour, and while I was swimming about I noticed that the wind was fast freshening. The steep and broken waves made swimming somewhat difficult, and the crests of the whitecaps that occasionally slapped me in the face made me gasp for breath. While dressing I thought, with some consternation, that this vigorous wind would prove a serious hindrance to Mat Barnes’s return, as it would be blowing directly in his teeth.

“For a time I sat sulkily in the door of the boom-house, with my feet on a block to keep them out of the wet. The door opened away from the wind, and against the back of the little structure the waves were beginning to lash with sufficient violence to make me uneasy. I strained my eyes up-river to catch the first glimpse of Mat forcing his way cleverly against the tossing whitecaps. But no such welcome vision rewarded me. At last I was compelled to acknowledge that the storm had become too violent for him to return against it without assistance. I should have to wait in the boom-house either till the wind abated, or till Mat should succeed in finding a pair of stout arms and a willing heart to come with him to my rescue.

“At first my thoughts dwelt with keen regret on the smoking pancakes and luscious maple-sirup that I knew were even then awaiting me at the farmhouse under the hill, and somewhat bitterly I reviled Mat’s lack of consideration. But as the sky grew rapidly dark while it wanted yet a half-hour of sundown, and the wind came shrieking more madly down from the hills, and the boom-house began to creak and groan and shudder beneath the waves that were leaping upon it, anxiety for my safety took the place of all other considerations.