Chapter XIV: Sailing Towards the Sunrise

“Truly the spirit of the winds favors us.” Blaise forgot for the moment his Christian training and spoke in the manner of his Indian forefathers. He had waked at dawn and, finding the lake merely rippled by a steady west breeze, had aroused Hugh.

So anxious were the two to take advantage of the perfect weather that they did not wait for breakfast, but hastily flung their blankets and cooking utensils into the boat. With the two strong paddles included in the purchase, they ran the bateau out of the little cove where it had lain sheltered. Then, hoisting the sail, they steered towards the dawn.

Hugh Beaupré never forgot that sail into the sunrise. Ahead of him the sky, all rose and gold and faint green blending into soft blue, met the water without the faintest, thinnest line of land between. Before and around the boat, the lake shimmered with the reflected tints that glorified even the patched and dirty sail. Was he bound for the other side of the world, for some glorious, unearthly realm beyond that gleaming water? A sense of mingled dread and exultation swept over the boy, his face flushed, his gray eyes sparkled, his pulse quickened. He knew the feeling of the explorer setting out for new lands, realms of he knows not what perils and delights.

The moment of thrill passed, and Hugh turned to glance at Blaise. The younger boy, his hand on the tiller rope, sat like a statue, his dark face tense, his shining hazel eyes betraying a kindred feeling to that which had held Hugh in its thrall. Never before in all their days of journeying together had the white lad and the half-breed felt such perfect comradeship. Speech was unnecessary between them.

As the sun rose higher and the day advanced, Blaise was not so sure that fortune was favoring the venture. The wind sank until the water was broken by the merest ripple only. There was scarcely enough pressure against the sail to keep the boat moving.

“At this rate we shall be a week in reaching the island,” said Hugh, anxiously eying the canvas. “We can go faster with the paddles. Lash the rudder and we’ll try the blades.”

For the first time since they had changed from canoe to sailboat Blaise voiced an objection. “To paddle this heavy bateau is hard work,” he said. “We cannot keep at it all day and all night, as we could in a bark canoe. As long as the wind blows at all and we move onward, even slowly, we had best save our strength. Soon we shall need it. Before the sun is overhead, there will be no wind at all, and then we must paddle.”

Hugh nodded agreement, but, less patient than his half-brother, he found it trying to sit idle waiting for the gentle breeze to die. Blaise had prophesied truly. Before noon the sail was hanging loose and idle, the water, blue under a cloudless sky, was without a wrinkle. It is not often really hot on the open waters of Lake Superior, but that day the sun glared down upon the little boat, and the distance shimmered with heat haze. The bateau had no oars or oarlocks, only two stout paddles, and paddling the heavy, clumsy boat was slow, hot work.

Pausing for a moment’s rest after an hour’s steady plying of his blade, Hugh uttered an exclamation. “Look, Blaise,” he cried. “We haven’t so far to go. There is the Isle Royale ahead, and not far away either.”

He pointed with his blade to the hazy blue masses across the still water. High the land towered, with points and bays and detached islands. Encouraged by the sight, the two bent to their paddles.

In a few minutes Hugh cried out again. “How strange the island looks, Blaise! I don’t remember any flat-topped place like that. See, it looks as if it had been sliced off with a knife.”

The distant shore had taken on a strange appearance. High towering land it seemed to be, but curiously level and flattened at the top, like no land Hugh had seen around Lake Superior.

“There is something wrong,” the boy went on, puzzled. “We must be off our course. That is not Isle Royale, at least not the part I saw. Where are we, Blaise? Are we going in the wrong direction? Can that be part of the mainland?”

“It is not the mainland over that way,” Blaise made prompt reply. “It must be some part of Minong.” He used the Indian name for the island.

“But I saw nothing the——” Hugh began, then broke off to cry out, “Look, look, the island is changing before our eyes! It towers up there to the right, and over there, where it was high a moment ago, it shrinks and fades away!”

“It is some enchanted land,” the younger boy murmured, gazing in wonder at the dim blue shapes that loomed in one place, shrank in another, changed size and form before his awestruck eyes. “It is a land of spirits.” He ceased his paddling to cross himself.

For a moment Hugh too was inclined to believe that he and his brother were the victims of witchcraft. But, though not free from superstition, he had less of it than the half-breed. Moreover he remembered the looming of the very boat he was now in, when he had first seen it in the mists of dawn, and also the rock that had looked like an island, when he was on his way from Michilimackinac. The captain of the ship had told him of some of the queer visions called mirages he had seen when sailing the lakes. Turning towards Blaise, Hugh attempted to explain the strange sight ahead.

“It is the mirage. I have heard of it. The Captain of the _Athabasca_ told me that the mirage is caused by the light shining through mist or layers of cloud or air that reflect in some way we do not understand, making images of land appear where there is no land or changing the appearance of the real land. Sometimes, he said, images of islands are seen upside down in the sky, above the real water-line. It is all very strange and no one quite understands why it comes or how, but there is no enchantment about it, Blaise.”

The younger boy nodded, his eyes still on the changing, hazy shapes ahead. Without reply, he resumed his paddling. How much he understood of his elder brother’s explanation, Hugh could not tell. At any rate Blaise was too proud to show further fear of something Hugh did not seem to be afraid of.

In silence the two plied their paddles under the hot sun, but the heavy wooden boat did not respond like a bark canoe to their efforts. Progress was very slow. White clouds were gathering in the south, moving slowly up and across the sky, though the water remained quiet. The clouds veiled the sun. The distant land shrank to a mere blue line, its natural shape and size, and seemed to come no nearer for all their efforts. Both boys were growing anxious. After the heat and stillness of the day, the clouds, slow moving though they were, threatened storm. The two dug their blades into the water, straining muscles of arms and shoulders to put all their strength into the stroke.

A crinkle, a ripple was spreading over the green-blue water. A breeze was coming up from the southwest. Hugh laid down his blade to raise the sail. In the west the rays of the setting sun were breaking through the clouds and dyeing them crimson, flame and orange. He was glad to see the sun again, for it brought him assurance that he was keeping the course, not swinging too far to north or south.

The breeze, very light at first, strengthened after sunset and became more westerly, the most favorable direction. The clumsy boat and square sail could not be made to beat against the wind, but Hugh’s course was a little north of east. He could sail directly with the wind and yet be assured of not going far out of his way. The farthest tip of land ahead, now freed from the false distortions of mirage, he took to be the end of the long, high shore, where, in the fissure, he and Baptiste had found the old bateau. That land was still very far away, other islands or points of the main island lying nearer.

As darkness gathered, the breeze swept away the clouds, and stars and moon shone out. Sailing over the gently heaving water, where the moonlight made a shimmering path, was a pleasant change from paddling the heavy boat in the heat of the day. The boys’ evening meal consisted of a few handfuls of hulled corn and some maple sugar, with the clear, cold lake water for drink. Both Blaise at the tiller and Hugh handling the sheet found it difficult to keep awake. The day had been a long one, but they must remain alert to hold their course and avoid disaster.

They were approaching land now. In the moonlight, to avoid islands and projecting rocks was not difficult. Sunken reefs were harder to discern. Only the breaking of waves upon the rocks that rose near to the surface betrayed the danger. So the steersman shunned points and the ends of islands from which hidden reefs might run out. Hugh would have been glad to camp on the first land reached, but he knew he ought to take advantage of the favorable wind and get as near as possible to the spot where the wreck lay. Shaking off his drowsiness, he gave his whole attention to navigation.

Several islands and a number of points, that might belong either to the great island or to smaller bordering ones, were passed before reaching a low shore, well wooded, which Hugh felt sure he recognized. He remembered that the _Otter_ had been obliged to go far out around the tip to avoid a long reef. He warned Blaise to steer well out, but the latter did not go quite far enough and the boat grazed a rock. No damage was done, however. The bateau was now headed for a strip of much higher land, showing dark between sky and water. Hugh thought that must be the towering, tree-crowned, rock shore he recalled. To land there tonight was out of the question. The moon had gone down, and to run, in the darkness, up the bay to the spot where the _Otter_ had taken shelter might also prove difficult. Hugh decided they had better tie up somewhere on the point they had just rounded. He lowered the sail and both boys took up their paddles. For some distance they skirted the steep, slanting rock shore where the trees grew down as far as they could cling.

One mountain ash had lost its footing and fallen into the lake. To the fallen tree Hugh tied the boat, in still water and under the shadow of the shore. Then he and Blaise rolled themselves in their blankets and lay down in the bottom. Heedless of the dew-wet planking they were asleep immediately. The water rippled gently against the rough sides of the boat, an owl in a spruce sent forth its eerie hoots, from across the water a loon answered with a wild, mocking cry, but the tired lads slept on undisturbed.