Part 5

Lightning began to flash low down on the southern horizon, and the gleams disclosed a bank of clouds. The adventurers increased the swiftness and strength of their paddle strokes. The distant growling of thunder reached their ears. As flash after flash lit up the sky, they could see the clouds growing and spreading. The stars were losing some of their brilliancy. A light haze seemed to be veiling them. The thunder rolled louder and nearer, the intervals between flash and sound decreased. The clouds from south and west were moving more rapidly, and the breeze was beginning to blow up in fitful puffs and gusts.

The voyageurs did not think of turning back. They had come too far. If Nangotook's information was correct, the island could not be many miles away. In the lightning flashes Jean thought he could make out a dark line on the water far ahead. To go back would be suicidal, for they must have come considerably more than half-way.

One after another the stars were swallowed up by the clouds. The gusts of wind grew stronger, the lake was roughening. In a very short time there would be no stars left to steer by, and the wind was so fitful and unsteady in direction that it was no guide. The night had grown very dark, and the lightning revealed nothing but heaving water below and moving clouds overhead. If Jean had really seen land, the waves now hid it from view.

Every moment the adventurers thought the storm must break, and yet it did not. The sky remained overcast, the thunder rolled and grumbled, the lightning flashed, now overhead, now low on the horizon, first in one quarter, then in another. But no rain fell. There must be worse coming. Still it did not come. Would it hold off until daybreak, until they could see land and reach it?

Even for skilled canoemen there was danger enough. The wind came in squalls, sending the waves first one way, then another. Nangotook had to be constantly on the alert to turn the canoe this way and that, a difficult task in the darkness. As the wind increased and the waves rolled higher, he ordered the others to cease paddling. One man must take all the responsibility. He must act so quickly that there was no time to give orders to another. It was no longer a question of getting ahead but of keeping the canoe right side up. The buoyant, but frail, little craft must mount each wave at just the right angle. It must be held steady when it shot down the other side and through the trough between. The shifting squally wind made frequent, sudden twists of the paddle necessary, and to prevent the canoe from careening, the body of the paddler must be thrown in the opposite direction. The poise of his body was almost as important as the handling of the paddle. Whatever happened, Ronald and Jean must remain motionless, never for one moment shifting their weight unless the Indian so ordered. The whole fate of the three rested on his skill and judgment.

So they went on and on, in imminent peril every moment, on through the black night, lit up only by the lightning flashes, which revealed to them nothing but a world of threatening sky and tossing water. All sense of direction was gone. Nangotook's only aim was to keep the canoe from being swamped, and it did not seem as if he could accomplish that feat much longer. It was not surprising that the two lads, living in that superstitious age, began to wonder if the spirits of the lake were not arrayed against them, struggling to keep them from the wonderful island where the sands were of gold. Had a manito risen out of the water and promised them a safe return to shore if they would give up their quest, they would have been glad to agree to anything. But no manito appeared, and the situation, instead of improving, grew steadily worse.

They had become convinced that the storm was one of wind and lightning only, when suddenly the rain came in a dash so fierce that swamping seemed inevitable. Jean and Ronald bailed for their lives. Fortunately the wind had lessened with the burst of rain that seemed to flatten out the waves, so it was possible for the lads to bail. Fast and frenziedly as they worked, they refrained by instinct from moving their bodies any more than was absolutely necessary. The chief danger for the moment was that the canoe might fill and sink. Had the violent rain been of long duration that disaster could not have been prevented, but luckily the deluge lasted but a very few minutes, ceasing as suddenly as it had begun.

With the passing of the rain, the wind steadied, blowing strong and cold, instead of in shifting squalls. Evidently the weather was clearing. Patches of star sprinkled sky began to appear and disappear and appear again, as the storm clouds broke and scattered, scudding before the wind. The waves were high, and the canoe was still in great peril. It was borne along rapidly, and the Indian had his hands full to keep the waters from overwhelming it. It was tossed up and down until it seemed about to turn end over end. But Nangotook's trained judgment, cool head and iron wrist and forearm continued to triumph in the struggle.

As the sky cleared the boys could see, from the faintness of the stars, that day was dawning. Then just as hope began to be renewed in them, the sound of breakers ahead reached their ears. The Ojibwa gave his paddle a twist to swerve the canoe to the right, but the wind counteracted his effort, and before he could turn sufficiently, a dark mass of rocks loomed up close by. As the canoe was lifted on the crest of a wave, he could see the pale gleam of the spray that dashed against that rock wall. With a supreme effort, and at the risk of overturning his craft, he succeeded in swinging to the right, beyond the reach of the surf. He had barely made the turn, when a big wave carried the canoe by the rock wall, so close in that an outstretched hand could almost have touched it.

The dangerous manoeuver of turning again, to run in on the lea side of the rocks, was accomplished safely. Suddenly the three adventurers found themselves in almost still water, so completely were they sheltered from the wind. The Indian paddled slowly along, straining his eyes to find a rift or a beach where a landing could be made. He had taken but a few strokes when he discerned a blacker gap in the dark rock. That gap was the entrance to a narrow passage, so pitchy black that he could not tell whether it was long or short. Even his keen eyes could not see the dangers ahead. The stern of the canoe had scarcely passed into the rift, when the bow struck sharply on a submerged rock. A great hole was torn in the birch bark, and the water rushed in.

As the canoe filled and settled, Nangotook climbed out on the rock where the boat had struck, but Ronald and Jean were less fortunate. They could not reach bottom and were compelled to swim. They had only a few strokes to go in the cold water and black darkness, however, before their feet touched solid rock. Scrambling up a slippery slope, they were soon out of the water, on a narrow, shelving ledge running along a steep wall. From near by Nangotook called to them. Making their way cautiously along the ledge in the direction of his voice, they soon reached the head of the rift, which the Indian had already gained.

There on a beach of sloping boulders and large pebbles, safe from wind and waves, the three crouched. Whether the canoe and its contents could be raised they would not know until daylight came, but they were too thankful for their own safety to worry about anything else. Sincerely, though silently, the two lads, each in his own way, thanked God for their deliverance, while the Indian spoke a few words in his own language and in a low voice. Whether his gratitude was directed to the Christian God, to Nanabozho or some other manito of the lake, or to the mysterious charm he carried in the breast of his tunic, the lads could not tell, probably to a combination of the three.

There among the rocks, the seekers after the golden sands remained safe, but chilled and miserable enough, until daylight came. They did not talk, but the boys could not help wondering if the place where they had taken refuge might not be some part of the Island of Yellow Sands itself. To be sure, they had encountered no sand of any kind, only rocks and pebbles, but whether the wonderful beach Etienne had described ran clear around the mysterious island or only fringed a part of it they did not know. Perhaps at that very moment of chilled misery the golden sands might lie but a few feet away from them.

IX

THE HOME OF THE GULLS

At first all that the castaways knew of their situation was that they were in a narrow cleft of rock. As the light increased, they discovered that the vertical rock walls, which rose high above their heads, came together a little way beyond where the three were huddled, forming a V-shaped cove. The waters of the lake extended into the rift about half its length. Then came a shelving beach of boulders and large, smooth, rounded pebbles. With the dawn, gulls, in ever increasing numbers, began to circle overhead, keeping up an incessant crying, now high pitched and whining, now harsh and guttural.

As soon as the light was strong enough, Etienne and the boys, chilled and stiff, scrambled down to the water's edge to look for the sunken canoe. They were relieved to find that it had not drifted out into the lake. There it lay, one end tilted up on the sharp edged rock, where it had struck, the other in deep water. One of the paddles Etienne had saved, the other had disappeared. The canoe and its contents must be raised and brought ashore at once, before the castaways even climbed the rocks to see where they were.

Their supplies were scanty enough. A few handfuls of corn had remained of the food they had kept with them when in their lean-to on St. Ignace. After leaving their camping ground there, they had lived on hare meat and fish, and, before they had paddled away from the Rock of the Beaver, they had wrapped the corn in a piece of birch bark. They rescued the package, but it was not water-tight, and the corn was a pulp. The powder that the boys had carried on their persons was wet, too, from their plunge in the lake. Only the Indian, who had not been in over his knees, had saved his dry. He had also saved his most precious possession, next to his mysterious charm, his red stone pipe with the bowl carved in the form of a beaver and the stem decorated with copper bands. All three guns had had a thorough wetting.

The corn and powder was spread on convenient, flat-topped rocks, the soaked blankets on the pebbles, to dry in the sun. Then Nangotook and the lads succeeded in raising the canoe and carrying it up on the bit of beach. Fortunately the roll of birch bark, the ball of spruce roots and the pieces of gum, they had provided for repairs, were unharmed. The hole in the bottom of the canoe was large and jagged, but by no means beyond mending. Before they began that task, however, the castaways decided to climb the rocks and have a look about them. They were dripping wet, and, as Lake Superior water is cold even in summer, they needed sun, wind and exercise to dry and warm them.

At the head of the fissure they found a place in the ribbed and seamed rock wall, where they could scramble up. They had to go one at a time, and it was Ronald who led the way. Around his head gulls whirled, screaming, and, as he neared the top, they swooped down so threateningly that he remembered the story of the ferocious birds and beasts that guarded the Island of Yellow Sands. His heart beat quickly as he thrust his head above the top of the wall and looked about him. The prospect was not encouraging. Waving his arms to ward off the gulls, which darted down, with menacing wings and beaks, almost in his face, he scrambled up until he stood on the verge of the rift.

This place was surely not the Island of Golden Sands. There were no sands of any kind, and such a heap of barren rocks could scarcely be called an island. One glance showed him why the gulls had disputed his way so fiercely. The lonely rock was a nesting place. The air seemed full of great white birds, wheeling, sailing, swooping on their long wings, and making a deafening din with their angry cries, harsh, mocking, threatening. As Ronald moved forward, hundreds of brownish-gray young birds plunged into the water and swam away to join the flocks of old ones that were riding the waves a little distance out.

For the moment the boy took small interest in gulls, young or old. His disappointment was too keen. He had actually hoped that he might be on the mysterious island he was seeking. Instead he had been cast ashore upon a bare pile of rocks. Jean and Nangotook soon joined him. The French youth's long face and the Ojibwa's grunt of disgust showed plainly their disappointment.

The three strained their eyes over the waters in every direction. The sky was blue, but the light haze of morning lay on the lake, shrouding the distance. Other scattered rocks could be discerned, but no continuous shore line was visible. At first the two boys could see nothing that gave them any hope. Nangotook, however, gazed intently towards the southwest. Then he stretched out his arm and pointed.

"Island off there. Reach it in little while," he said.

"It is only a pile of rocks like this," replied Ronald in a disgusted tone.

"No," the Indian returned quietly. "Larger, with trees."

Though the lads were unable to make out what Nangotook said he saw, they were cheered by his words. They knew that, keen-eyed as they were, they were no match for him in eyesight, and were content to take his word that to the southwest of them, not far away, lay an island with trees. Their spirits rose at once. Surely that must be the place they were seeking. They did not know how many miles they had come after the clouds had blotted out the guiding stars, or how far they might have been driven from their course, but they were very ready to believe that they could not be much out of the way, and that the land to the southwest must be the sought-for island. Before they could reach it, though, the canoe must be mended.

After scrambling about the rocks for a while, the gold-seekers returned to the cove. There they found that the gulls had stolen most of the corn. Leaving it unguarded had been an inexcusable piece of carelessness, for which Etienne blamed himself. The birds must have stolen his wits first, he said. The three were ravenously hungry, so Ronald climbed out of the rift again to search for a place where he could fish with some hope of success.

He took his station at the most favorable looking spot, where a projecting wall of rock and a number of large fragments, broken off at some time long past, sheltered the water. Into the quiet pool he dropped his hook. While he fished, Jean and Etienne mended the canoe.

Soon after Ronald let down his line, he caught the smallest lake trout he had ever seen, much too small for three. After that, luck forsook him. Half the morning he patiently fished the pool, but did not get a bite. The rest of the forenoon he spent climbing about the rocks, seeking other spots to fish from and trying every place that was possible. Then he gave it up for the time, cleaned his little fish, and lighted a fire of dry moss and small sticks. The iron kettle had disappeared. The boys could not understand how the waves had managed to wash the heavy thing away, but all their searching had failed to bring it to light. So Ronald split his trout and broiled it on green twigs. Divided among the three, it only whetted their appetites.

Time passed slowly on the wind-swept rock. With small, tough spruce roots, called "wattap" by the Indians and voyageurs, a neat patch of bark was sewed over the hole in the canoe, and the seams carefully daubed with heat-softened pine gum. As the day advanced, the wind came up, and, by the time the canoe was ready to be put in the water, the crests of the waves were breaking in foam. The lake was much too rough to make leaving the rock advisable.

The boys fished continually, but without luck. It began to look as if they must eat gull or go without food, and gulls are far from good eating. Only intense hunger would have driven the lads to try one.

There were gulls' nests everywhere, although they could hardly be called nests in the usual sense of the word, being mere collections of sticks, leaves and bits of lichen and moss placed in crevices and hollows of the rock. No fresh eggs were to be found. The mottled gray-brown plumage of the young birds was scarcely distinguishable from the rock itself as they crouched close to it. They were hard to catch for all were able to swim, and immediately plunged into the water when disturbed. Most of them had learned to fly too, and could rise circling overhead with the white-winged adult birds.

Jean noticed one young gull hopping up and down in a strange manner, flapping its wings. As he watched it, it ran down a sloping bit of rock, still moving its wings, rose unsteadily in the air, made a few uncertain, awkward motions, trying its wings and learning to manage them, then flew out over the water as if it had always been used to flying. He watched it circle about and then light in a clumsy and inexperienced manner. Wings raised straight over its back, it dropped heavily into the water, going clear under. Rising to the surface, it arranged its feathers and swam about, holding its head high as if proud of its achievement. Jean felt sure that was the young gull's first flight, and was surprised at the rapidity with which it had learned to sail and wheel about in the air.

It was nearly sunset before the castaways had any luck with their fishing, and then it was Nangotook who made the catch. He had noticed several gulls hovering over and swooping down into the lake at a little distance out, near a solitary rock that raised its head two or three feet above the water. It was evident that the birds were fishing. So the Indian launched the mended canoe, and, taking Jean with him, went out to the spot. With the sinking sun the wind was going down, and paddling was no longer dangerous. Passing close to the rock, he handed the paddle to Jean and dropped his line quietly over the side. In a few minutes there was a strong pull. Then a battle began, the Ojibwa playing his fish with skill, letting out his line when his game made a dash, pulling in the slack swiftly hand over hand as the fish changed its mind and darted towards the boat, or slowly, steadily drawing it in without pulling too strongly. Jean devoted his attention to the canoe, which pitched about, and had to be turned and paddled this way and that in accordance with the actions of the fish and the Indian's sharp orders. Finally, after a struggle that lasted for ten minutes or more, Nangotook succeeded in bringing the tired fish almost up to the boat. Pulling in the line quickly with one hand, he reached far out over the gunwale, Jean hastily balancing by leaning the other way, and plunged his knife into the fish just below the mouth. He held it up exultingly. It was a lake trout of eight or ten pounds weight.

When the two boys, rolled in their blankets, lay down that night in a crevice of the rock, where moss and trailing cedar made a thin but not to be despised bed, they were feeling very hopeful. They had eaten a good meal of trout, the night was fair, the wind had subsided, the prospect of reaching the island to the southwest was good. In discouragement over their surroundings, they had rather forgotten at times during the day, their thankfulness for having been saved from the storm of the night before. Now, however, with renewed hope and bodily comfort, their gratitude for their rescue returned, and with it a very kindly feeling for the barren rock that had sheltered them from the fury of the lake. Surely that land to the southwest must be the Island of Yellow Sands. As the air had cleared during the day, they had been able to make it out more plainly, and the lads had become convinced by their own eyes that it was no mere rock like the one they were on. Ronald had asked whether it might not be some point or headland of the lake shore, but Etienne had shaken his head.

"South shore too far away," he had replied. "Island out there. Island of Yellow Sands, just like my grandfather said."

X

THE ISLAND TO THE SOUTHWEST

The breeze still blew from the north the next morning, but the waves were not high enough to forbid crossing the three or four miles of open water that separated the adventurers from the land to the southwest. Before starting out, Nangotook, to gain the good favor of the manito, threw into the lake another offering of tobacco, though he had little left. The two paddles, that had remained in the canoe when it sank, had evidently been washed out of the cove, so the trip had to be made with one blade, the Indian wielding it.

The boys' minds were full of the land they were approaching, and they discussed its possibilities earnestly, but the Ojibwa was silent, apparently devoting his whole attention to his paddling. As they drew near the unknown island, the lads searched it eagerly with their eyes, but they could discover no indication of a sand beach. A rocky point, spotted with the white bodies of the gulls resting upon it, ran out into the water. Back from the point rose high ground covered with trees.

Clouds had begun to fleck the blue sky, and the breeze had gained in force. The rocks, exposed to the wind and dashed with spray, afforded no good landing place. So the three went on between the point and the small rock islands and reefs that lay out from it, the boys on the watch for the gleam of golden sands. Nangotook, heedful of hidden points and reefs, kept his eyes on the water most of the time.

No yellow sands came into view. There was one stretch of beach, but it showed no gleam of gold. Apparently it was just ordinary sand, and Nangotook did not think landing worth while, but paddled by. Beyond another stretch of broken and tumbled rocks, a small opening, cutting into the island between high portals, came into view. The Indian's curiosity must have been aroused, for he headed the canoe into the narrow channel.

Then an unexpected and beautiful sight met the eyes of the wanderers. They found themselves in a peaceful harbor, almost round, and wooded with evergreens to the water line. Directly in front of them, as they entered, the ground was low, but to right and left it rose high, spruces and balsam firs standing in thick ranks to the summit. The gap through which they had come was a mere cut in a tree-clothed ridge, which stretched away on either side. Ronald confided to Jean that it looked as if some giant manito had taken a bite out of the ridge, but he was careful not to let Nangotook overhear the remark. There was no sand of any kind to be seen, but, in spite of their disappointment, the boys voiced their admiration of this beautiful, landlocked harbor. The Ojibwa's usually impassive face wore a look in which relief seemed mingled with surprise, and he spoke a few words in his own language, and quickly cast a pinch of tobacco into the water. It was no wonder that he felt such an attractive place must be the dwelling of some spirit.

By that time the sky had become thickly overcast, and, as the gold-seekers circled the wooded shore, rain began to fall. They made a landing on the trunk of a cedar, that had tilted over until it lay almost flat on the water, and lifting out the canoe, hid it in the thick growth. In spite of the rain, the boys were eager to explore. They had seen nothing very encouraging so far, but they were by no means convinced that this was not the mysterious island they sought. How could they be sure the golden sands did not lie just over there beyond the forest?