Afar in the Forest

by William Henry Giles Kingston

As we advanced we caught sight of numerous logs of timber hauled out into the middle of the stream. Shortly afterwards the sound of voices reached our ears, and we saw a number of men scattered about—some engaged, with gleaming axes, in felling trees; others with horses dragging the trunks, placed on sleighs, over the hard snow on to the ice. They were there arranged alongside each other, and bound together so as to form numerous small rafts. Here they would remain until the giving way of the frost; when, on the disappearance of the ice, they would be floated down towards the mouth of the river and towed across the lake to the various saw-mills on its banks.

We were glad to be welcomed by the “boss;” who at once engaged Uncle Mark and Mike to hew, while I was to undertake the less onerous task of driving a team.

The shores of the river had been already pretty well cleared of large timber, so that I had to bring the trunks from some distance.

Uncle Mark and Laffan soon showed that they were well practised axemen.

Our companions were to spend some months engaged in the occupation I have described; till the return of spring, in fact, when, the rafts being put together, they would descend the river till rapids or cataracts were reached. The rafts would then be separated, and each log of timber, or two or three together at most, would be allowed to make their way as they best could down the fall, till they reached calm water at the foot of it; when they would be again put together, and navigated by the raftsmen guiding them with long poles. In some places, where rough rocks exist in the rapids by which the timber might be injured, slides had been formed. These slides are channels, or rather canals, as they are open at the top; and are constructed of thick boards—just as much water being allowed to rush down them as will drive on the logs. Some of these slides are two hundred feet long; others reach even to the length of seven hundred feet. The timbers are placed on cribs,—which are frames to fit the slides,—then, with a couple of men on them to guide their course, when they get through they shoot away at a furious rate down the inclined plane, and without the slightest risk of injury.

When evening approached we all assembled in a huge shanty, which had been built under the shelter of the thick bush. Round it were arranged rows of bunks, with the cooking-stove in the centre, which was kept burning at all hours, and served thoroughly to warm our abode. On each side of the stove were tables, with benches round them. Here we took our meals; which, although sufficient, were not too delicate,—salt pork being the chief dish. Rough as were the men, too, they were tolerably well-behaved; but quarrels occasionally took place, as might have been expected among such a motley crowd.

On the first evening of our arrival Mike’s fiddle attracted universal attention, and he was, of course, asked to play a tune.

“Why thin, sure, I will play one with all the pleasure in life,” he answered. “And, sure, some of you gintlemen will be afther loiking to take a dance;” and without more ado he seated himself on the top of a bench at the further end of the shanty, and began to scrape away with might and main, nodding his head and kicking his heels to keep time. The effect was electrical. The tables were quickly removed to the sides of the shanty; and every man, from the “boss” downwards, began shuffling away, circling round his neighbour, leaping from the ground, and shrieking at the top of his voice.

When Mike’s fiddle was not going, our lumbering companions were wont to spin long yarns, as we sat at the supper-table. Several of them had worked up the northern rivers of Canada, where the winter lasts much longer than it does in the district I am describing; and among these was a fine old French Canadian, Jacques Michaud by name, who had come south with a party, tempted by the prospect of obtaining a pocketful of dollars. He stood six feet two inches in his stockings; and his strength was in proportion to his size. At the same time, he was one of the most good-natured and kind-hearted men I ever met.

Among our party were several rough characters; and it happened that one evening two of them fell out. They were about to draw their knives, when Jacques seized each of them in his vice-like grasp, and, holding them at arm’s-length, gradually lifted them off the ground. There he kept them; mildly expostulating,—now smiling at one, and now at the other,—till they had consented to settle their dispute amicably; he then set them on their legs again, and made them shake hands.