IX
THE HOME OF THE GULLS
At first all that the castaways knew of their situation was that theywere in a narrow cleft of rock. As the light increased, they discoveredthat the vertical rock walls, which rose high above their heads, cametogether a little way beyond where the three were huddled, forming aV-shaped cove. The waters of the lake extended into the rift about halfits length. Then came a shelving beach of boulders and large, smooth,rounded pebbles. With the dawn, gulls, in ever increasing numbers, beganto circle overhead, keeping up an incessant crying, now high pitched andwhining, now harsh and guttural.
As soon as the light was strong enough, Etienne and the boys, chilledand stiff, scrambled down to the water's edge to look for the sunkencanoe. They were relieved to find that it had not drifted out into thelake. There it lay, one end tilted up on the sharp edged rock, where ithad struck, the other in deep water. One of the paddles Etienne hadsaved, the other had disappeared. The canoe and its contents must beraised and brought ashore at once, before the castaways even climbed therocks to see where they were.
Their supplies were scanty enough. A few handfuls of corn had remainedof 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 meatand 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 thepackage, but it was not water-tight, and the corn was a pulp. The powderthat the boys had carried on their persons was wet, too, from theirplunge 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, nextto his mysterious charm, his red stone pipe with the bowl carved in theform of a beaver and the stem decorated with copper bands. All threeguns had had a thorough wetting.
The corn and powder was spread on convenient, flat-topped rocks, thesoaked blankets on the pebbles, to dry in the sun. Then Nangotook andthe lads succeeded in raising the canoe and carrying it up on the bit ofbeach. Fortunately the roll of birch bark, the ball of spruce roots andthe pieces of gum, they had provided for repairs, were unharmed. Thehole in the bottom of the canoe was large and jagged, but by no meansbeyond mending. Before they began that task, however, the castawaysdecided to climb the rocks and have a look about them. They weredripping wet, and, as Lake Superior water is cold even in summer, theyneeded sun, wind and exercise to dry and warm them.
At the head of the fissure they found a place in the ribbed and seamedrock 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 threateninglythat he remembered the story of the ferocious birds and beasts thatguarded the Island of Yellow Sands. His heart beat quickly as he thrusthis head above the top of the wall and looked about him. The prospectwas not encouraging. Waving his arms to ward off the gulls, which darteddown, with menacing wings and beaks, almost in his face, he scrambled upuntil he stood on the verge of the rift.
This place was surely not the Island of Golden Sands. There were nosands of any kind, and such a heap of barren rocks could scarcely becalled an island. One glance showed him why the gulls had disputed hisway so fiercely. The lonely rock was a nesting place. The air seemedfull of great white birds, wheeling, sailing, swooping on their longwings, and making a deafening din with their angry cries, harsh,mocking, threatening. As Ronald moved forward, hundreds of brownish-grayyoung birds plunged into the water and swam away to join the flocks ofold ones that were riding the waves a little distance out.
For the moment the boy took small interest in gulls, young or old. Hisdisappointment was too keen. He had actually hoped that he might be onthe mysterious island he was seeking. Instead he had been cast ashoreupon a bare pile of rocks. Jean and Nangotook soon joined him. TheFrench youth's long face and the Ojibwa's grunt of disgust showedplainly their disappointment.
The three strained their eyes over the waters in every direction. Thesky was blue, but the light haze of morning lay on the lake, shroudingthe distance. Other scattered rocks could be discerned, but nocontinuous shore line was visible. At first the two boys could seenothing that gave them any hope. Nangotook, however, gazed intentlytowards 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 disgustedtone.
"No," the Indian returned quietly. "Larger, with trees."
Though the lads were unable to make out what Nangotook said he saw, theywere cheered by his words. They knew that, keen-eyed as they were, theywere no match for him in eyesight, and were content to take his wordthat 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 wereseeking. They did not know how many miles they had come after the cloudshad blotted out the guiding stars, or how far they might have beendriven from their course, but they were very ready to believe that theycould not be much out of the way, and that the land to the southwestmust be the sought-for island. Before they could reach it, though, thecanoe must be mended.
After scrambling about the rocks for a while, the gold-seekers returnedto the cove. There they found that the gulls had stolen most of thecorn. Leaving it unguarded had been an inexcusable piece ofcarelessness, for which Etienne blamed himself. The birds must havestolen his wits first, he said. The three were ravenously hungry, soRonald climbed out of the rift again to search for a place where hecould fish with some hope of success.
He took his station at the most favorable looking spot, where aprojecting wall of rock and a number of large fragments, broken off atsome time long past, sheltered the water. Into the quiet pool he droppedhis hook. While he fished, Jean and Etienne mended the canoe.
Soon after Ronald let down his line, he caught the smallest lake trouthe had ever seen, much too small for three. After that, luck forsookhim. Half the morning he patiently fished the pool, but did not get abite. The rest of the forenoon he spent climbing about the rocks,seeking other spots to fish from and trying every place that waspossible. Then he gave it up for the time, cleaned his little fish, andlighted a fire of dry moss and small sticks. The iron kettle haddisappeared. The boys could not understand how the waves had managed towash the heavy thing away, but all their searching had failed to bringit 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 spruceroots, called "wattap" by the Indians and voyageurs, a neat patch ofbark was sewed over the hole in the canoe, and the seams carefullydaubed with heat-softened pine gum. As the day advanced, the wind cameup, and, by the time the canoe was ready to be put in the water, thecrests of the waves were breaking in foam. The lake was much too roughto make leaving the rock advisable.
The boys fished continually, but without luck. It began to look as ifthey must eat gull or go without food, and gulls are far from goodeating. Only intense hunger would have driven the lads to try one.
There were gulls' nests everywhere, although they could hardly be callednests 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 therock. No fresh eggs were to be found. The mottled gray-brown plumage ofthe young birds was scarcely distinguishable from the rock itself asthey crouched close to it. They were hard to catch for all were able toswim, and immediately plunged into the water when disturbed. Most ofthem had learned to fly too, and could rise circling overhead with thewhite-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 fewuncertain, awkward motions, trying its wings and learning to managethem, then flew out over the water as if it had always been used toflying. He watched it circl
e about and then light in a clumsy andinexperienced manner. Wings raised straight over its back, it droppedheavily into the water, going clear under. Rising to the surface, itarranged its feathers and swam about, holding its head high as if proudof its achievement. Jean felt sure that was the young gull's firstflight, and was surprised at the rapidity with which it had learned tosail and wheel about in the air.
It was nearly sunset before the castaways had any luck with theirfishing, and then it was Nangotook who made the catch. He had noticedseveral gulls hovering over and swooping down into the lake at a littledistance out, near a solitary rock that raised its head two or threefeet above the water. It was evident that the birds were fishing. So theIndian launched the mended canoe, and, taking Jean with him, went out tothe spot. With the sinking sun the wind was going down, and paddling wasno longer dangerous. Passing close to the rock, he handed the paddle toJean and dropped his line quietly over the side. In a few minutes therewas a strong pull. Then a battle began, the Ojibwa playing his fish withskill, letting out his line when his game made a dash, pulling in theslack swiftly hand over hand as the fish changed its mind and dartedtowards the boat, or slowly, steadily drawing it in without pulling toostrongly. Jean devoted his attention to the canoe, which pitched about,and had to be turned and paddled this way and that in accordance withthe actions of the fish and the Indian's sharp orders. Finally, after astruggle that lasted for ten minutes or more, Nangotook succeeded inbringing the tired fish almost up to the boat. Pulling in the linequickly with one hand, he reached far out over the gunwale, Jean hastilybalancing by leaning the other way, and plunged his knife into the fishjust below the mouth. He held it up exultingly. It was a lake trout ofeight or ten pounds weight.
When the two boys, rolled in their blankets, lay down that night in acrevice of the rock, where moss and trailing cedar made a thin but notto be despised bed, they were feeling very hopeful. They had eaten agood meal of trout, the night was fair, the wind had subsided, theprospect of reaching the island to the southwest was good. Indiscouragement over their surroundings, they had rather forgotten attimes during the day, their thankfulness for having been saved from thestorm of the night before. Now, however, with renewed hope and bodilycomfort, their gratitude for their rescue returned, and with it a verykindly feeling for the barren rock that had sheltered them from the furyof the lake. Surely that land to the southwest must be the Island ofYellow Sands. As the air had cleared during the day, they had been ableto make it out more plainly, and the lads had become convinced by theirown eyes that it was no mere rock like the one they were on. Ronald hadasked 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 ofYellow Sands, just like my grandfather said."
The Island of Yellow Sands: An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys Page 9