Chapter 13: On the Great Lake

When Henry awoke at dawn, all the weariness from his great efforts was gone, and he looked upon a world full of beauty. The unbroken forest of deep green bore a luminous tint, light and golden, from the early sunshine. Free of body and soul, it was the brilliant world that he had known so long, and he was ready once more for any task that might lie before them. Long Jim had already prepared breakfast, and he turned a benevolent gaze upon Henry.

“Ain’t it fine,” he said, “to have all the family reunited ag’in?”

“It certainly is,” said Henry joyously, “and you surely stuck by the missing member in masterly fashion.”

“Wa’al, you’ve stuck by us jest ez hard many a time,” said Long Jim meditatively. “Paul, what wuz the name uv the feller that stuck by the other feller, the only big one, that got away from Troy after the Greeks rode into the town inside a hoss?”

“You’re thinking of the faithful Achates, Jim,” replied Paul, “and Æneas was the name of the big one to whom he was faithful.”

“Yes, that’s the feller. Henry, you’re our Æneas, an’ I’m an Achates; Paul’s another, Tom’s another and Sol’s another. Uv course we couldn’t go away without our Æneas, an’ while I’m talkin’ I want to say, Paul, that the tale about the takin’ uv Troy is the tallest hoss story ever told. Ef it wuzn’t writ in the books I wouldn’t believe it. Think uv your fightin’ off a hull army fur ten years or so, an’ then draggin’ that army into your town inside a wooden hoss. It can’t be so. I’ve knowed some pow’ful liars myself, but the tribe must hev gone down hill a lot since the days uv them ancients.”

Paul merely laughed and took another bite out of his venison steak.

“Anyway, Henry,” said Shif’less Sol, “ef you’ve been Æneas you’re goin’ to be the wandering ‘Lysses fur a while, an’ we’re goin’ to be fightin’ Greeks, sailin’ right along with you.”

“What do you mean?” asked Henry in astonishment.

“Tell him, Paul,” said the shiftless one. “Saplin’ hez cooked so well, an’ I’m so busy eatin’ I can’t spare time fur talk.”

“We felt sure we’d rescue Henry,” said Paul, “and we arranged everything so we could get back South as fast as we could. Knowing that the woods were full of warriors and that we didn’t want to be interrupted in our travels, we took a big boat one night from Detroit--I suppose we stole it, but you have a right to steal from an enemy in war--and carried it off down the river, hiding it among thick bushes at the mouth of a creek, where we’re sure it’s now resting securely, say five or six miles from this spot. We also gathered a lot of stores, food and such things, and put them on the boat. It was another risk, but we took that also, and I’m confident that our good genius will save the boat and stores for us. If they’re there waiting for us all right we’re going down the river and then across Lake Erie. It will save us a lot of time.”

“Fine! fine!” exclaimed Henry with enthusiasm. “You’ve done well. It will be a lot easier and faster for us going so far by boat.”

“An’ we’ll see one uv the big lakes, too,” said Long Jim.

“We shorely will,” said Shif’less Sol.

In a few minutes they were on the march again, and found the boat undisturbed at the mouth of the creek. It was a stout craft with a sail, and lockers for stores. Doubtless Colonel de Peyster had attributed its disappearance to some of his own Indians who could not always be trusted, but in the press of military preparations he had found no time to seek it.

“Now,” said Shif’less Sol, “we’ll take to the river. We may meet enemies thar, but it won’t be ez long a trip ez the one we took down the Missip. Besides, ef we do meet enemies they ain’t likely to be in big force ez most all the warriors seem to be drawed off fur the expeditions ag’inst Kentucky.”

“At any rate we’ll risk it, as we have risked many other things,” said Henry.

The five embarked, and set sail fearlessly upon the river. Nevertheless, they did not neglect caution. They kept close to the Canadian shore, where they were in the shadow of the dense forest, and at least three were always on the watch with ready rifles across their knees. Yet they saw no enemy. This was the heart of the Indian country and the canoes of the warlike Northwestern tribes often floated on these waters, but to-day the five had the river to themselves. Peace was everywhere. Birds sang in the neighboring woods. Now and then a fish leaped from the water and sank back in a mass of bubbles. The broad river was a sheet of gold, and then a sheet of silver as the sun shifted.

Henry appreciated all this rest and ease. He admired still more the foresight and daring of his comrades which enabled them to travel in such a luxurious way and so far. He examined carefully the weapons they had secured for him and saw that they were all of the first class. He also opened the various lockers and found them filled with venison, jerked buffalo meat, such luxuries as bread and coffee, and large quantities of powder and lead.

“We found part of these in the boat,” said Paul, “and it was your friend Lajeunais, who helped us to get the remainder. We do not go to sea unprovided.”

“You’ve all done so well,” said Henry lazily, “that I’m not going to bother myself about anything.”

He put his double blankets under his head as a pillow and lay back luxuriously. Their good boat moved steadily on, the sail doing the work, while one of their number steered.

“I hope the wind will continue to blow,” said Jim Hart, gazing admiringly at Henry, “‘cause ef it don’t we’ll then hev to git our oars an’ row. An’ it would spoil the purtiest picture uv a lazy feller I ever saw. Why, I never saw Shif’less Sol hisself look lazier or happier.”

Henry laughed. He knew that Jim Hart would have died in his defense.

“I am lazy, Jim,” he admitted. “I never felt so lazy in my life before. I like to lie here and look at the river and the country.”

“It’s a fine big river,” said Shif’less Sol, “but we can’t see much of the country because of the trees, which shoot up so thick an’ close on either bank, but I’ve heard that it ain’t really a river, jest the stream o’ water pourin’ out o’ them mighty lakes to the north into them lakes to the south, which ain’t so mighty as the others, but which are mighty anyhow.”

“It’s true,” said Paul. “All of this is lake water which runs through the other lakes, too, and then out by a tremendous big river, hundreds of miles to the Atlantic Ocean.”

“When God made this chain uv lakes an’ rivers he done one uv his biggest an’ finest jobs,” said Tom Ross reverentially.

They moved on their course slowly but steadily. Once they saw a canoe near the further shore, containing a lone occupant.

“It’s a squaw,” said Shif’less Sol, “an’ she’s pulled in near the land so she kin jump an’ run ef we make for her.”

“Like ez not she thinks we’re hunters or French from the fort,” said Long Jim.

“At any rate, we’ll soon leave her far behind,” said Henry.

The breeze stiffened and she quickly dropped out of sight. Nor did they see any other human being that day. At night they anchored close inshore, among bushes and reeds, where they remained undisturbed until the morning. The remainder of the journey down the river passed in the same peace and ease, and then Paul, who was in the prow, caught a glimpse of a broad expanse which looked silvery white in the distance.

“The lake! the lake!” he cried eagerly.

They swept triumphantly over the last reach of the river and out upon the broad bosom of Lake Erie. In their earlier voyage down the Mississippi they had learned how to use a sail, and now when they were about a mile from land they took in the sail and looked about them.

The great inland fresh water seas of North America aroused the greatest interest, even awe, among the earlier explorers, and there was not one among the five who did not look with eager eyes upon the ocean of waters. They were better informed, too, than the average woodsman concerning the size and shape of this mighty chain.

“You look west and you look south an’ you don’t see nothin’ but water,” said Long Jim.

“And they say that the whole grand chain is fifteen hundred miles long,” said Paul, “and that Lake Superior reaches a width of three hundred miles.”

“It’s a lot o’ water,” said Shif’less Sol, trailing his hand over the side, “an’ while I’d like to explore it, I guess that the sooner we cross it the better it will be for what we’re tryin’ to do.”

“You’re right,” said Henry. “We’ll set the sail again and tack as fast as we can to the south.”

The sail was set, and the boat, heeling over under a good breeze, moved rapidly. Paul and Henry watched with pleasure the white water foaming away on either side of the prow, and Long Jim also watched the trailing wake at the stern. Used to rivers but not to lakes, they did not really appreciate what dangers might await them on the bosom of Erie. Meanwhile the lake presented to them a most smiling surface. The waters rippling before the wind lay blue under a blue sky. The wind with its touch of damp was fresh and inspiring. Behind them the shore, with its great wall of green, sank lower and lower, until at last it passed out of sight. Long Jim, who sat in the stern watching, then spoke.

“Boys,” he said, “fur the fust time in the life uv any uv us thar ain’t no land. Look to the east an’ look to the west, look to the north an’ look to the south an’ thar ain’t nothin’ but water. The world uv land hez left us.”

There was a certain awe in Jim’s tone that impressed them as they looked and saw that he spoke the truth. Their world was now one of water, and they felt how small was the boat that lay between them and the tremendous power of the lake.

It was now somewhat past midday and the sun was uncommonly bright. The wind began to die, and the little waves no longer chased one another over the surface of the lake. No air gathered in the sail and presently the boat stopped.

“Now wouldn’t this make you mad?” exclaimed Shif’less Sol. “We can’t move at all unless we git out the oars an’ row, an’ a lazy man like me ain’t fond o’ rowin’ seventy or eighty miles across a big lake.”

Nor was the prospect pleasant to any of them. A little while ago they were moving swiftly at ease; now they rocked slightly in the swell, but did not go forward an inch. Hopeful that the wind would soon rise again they did not yet take to the oars. Meanwhile it was growing warmer. The reflection of the sun upon the water was dazzling, and they spread the sail again, not to catch the wind but as an awning to protect them from the burning rays.

They also used the interval for food and drink, and as the wind still did not rise they were thinking of taking to the oars as a last resort when Henry called their attention to the southwest.

“See that black spot down there,” he said. “It seems to be only a few inches either way, but it doesn’t look natural.”

“I’d call it a cloud,” said Tom Ross judicially.

“An’ clouds ain’t what we’re wantin’ jest now,” said Jim Hart.

Henry rose from his luxurious reclining position and gazed long and with great care at the black spot. He knew as well as Jim Hart that it was a cloud and he saw that it was growing. But a few inches across the horizon before, it stretched to feet and then to yards. Meanwhile not a breath of air stirred, the deep waters were waveless and the air hung hot and heavy about them. Henry had heard that dangerous storms came up very fast on the great lakes, and, although with no experience as a sailor except on rivers, he believed that one would soon be upon them.

“Boys,” he said, “look how that cloud grows. I believe we’re in for a big wind and storm. We’d better take down our mast, make everything tight and strong, and get ready with the oars.”

All at once Henry resumed command, and the others instantly accepted it as the most natural and proper thing in the world. The mast was unshipped, it and the sail were lashed down, everything that was loose was put in the lockers, or was tied securely. Meanwhile the cloud grew with amazing rapidity. While the east and north were yet full of blazing light the south and west were darkening. A draught of cold wind came. The waters, motionless hitherto, suddenly heaved convulsively. Low thunder rolled, and the lightning flashed across the troubled waters. The five felt awe. They were familiar with great storms, but never before had they been in one with no land in sight. The little boat, which alone lay between them and the depths of the lake, became smaller and smaller. But the five, although they felt more tremors than when going into battle, sat with their oars in the thwarts, ready to fight as best they could the storm which would soon rush down upon them.