The Island of Yellow Sands: An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys

by Ethel C. Brill

  XV

  STRANDED

  It was not a sand beach the canoe had grated upon, but solid rock. Thethree adventurers stepped over the side, and, carrying the canoe, wadedup a slope of rock until they were well above the water line. The fogwas so thick they could see almost nothing of their surroundings.Scrambling over unfamiliar rocks slippery with moisture, when they couldnot see where they were going, was too perilous an undertaking to beworth attempting. There was nothing to do but wait until the fogcleared. So they unloaded the canoe, turned it over, propped it up, andsettled themselves on their blankets in its shelter. Waiting was chilly,dreary work, but they were cheered by the knowledge that the mist wasthinning. They did not have to wait long. Before the veiled sun sank toits setting, the fog, though it did not disappear, became so thin thatclimbing about was no longer dangerous.

  The lads were eager to learn what sort of land they had reached. Theplace certainly abounded in gulls. The birds welcomed the lifting of thefog with such a chorus of shrill and whining cries, that the boys fearedthey had landed on another mere pile of rocks, one of those desolate andwind-swept spots where the gulls love to nest. There was always thechance, however, that the golden sands might lie close by.

  Once more Etienne hung back and let Ronald take the lead. The Indian'ssuperstitious dread of what they might encounter had probably not beenlessened by the Scotch boy's defiance of the manitos or by thesubsequent experience in the fog. No ravenous beast or hideous serpentappeared to threaten the treasure-seekers, however, no enormous shapetowered out of the mist to warn them back. Only the gulls disputed theirway as they climbed about the rocks. They soon discovered that the placewas either a narrow point or an island. Where they had landed, it wasonly a few rods wide. Further exploration proved it to be an island,about two miles long, and nowhere more than a quarter of a mile broad.There was no golden sand, only sandstone rock in slanting, overlappingsheets and blocks with upturned edges. A narrow belt of small trees andshrubs ran along the highest part. Everywhere were gulls, young and old,and the remains of their nests. By the time the setting sun had gildedthe mist with red and gold, the three had examined the island verythoroughly.

  After sunset the fog thickened again, and before dark turned into coldrain. There was nothing on the island to eat, the attempt to fish wasunsuccessful, and the castaways were reluctant to use the handful ofcrushed corn they had saved so carefully for an emergency. They wouldeat it next day if they could get nothing else, but for that night theydecided to go supperless. Everything on the island was dripping wet, sothey did not attempt to light a fire, but crept under the upturned canoeand wrapped themselves in their damp blankets. With the rain came wind,blowing in gusts and squalls.

  In spite of hunger and discomfort, the lads went to sleep. They wereawakened suddenly by a terrific blast of wind that blew directly intothe propped up canoe, lifted the light birch craft as if it had been adried leaf, and whirled it away in the darkness. In an instant the threewere out of their blankets, up and scrambling over the slippery rocks.They could not find the canoe again, though they sought everywhere forit, endangering their necks again and again in the black darkness, windand rain. At last, after Ronald had plunged down a steep slope into thewater and narrowly missed drowning, and Jean had stumbled over theupturned edge of a broken block and wrenched his ankle, they gave up indespair. If the canoe had not been carried away across the water, theymight find it, or the battered remains of it, in the morning, but toattempt further search that night would be useless and foolhardy.

  The only thing they could do was to crouch down in such shelter as thebelt of trees afforded, and wait for dawn. They could not even searchout a good place, but were compelled to make the best of what was closeat hand. The stunted trees and bushes protected them but little from therain and the wind, that came in violent squalls, now from one quarter,now from another.

  It seemed as if the night never would end, but towards morning the windsteadied and the rain ceased. Breaking through the clouds at thehorizon, the sun rose red in a wind-torn sky. The waves were dashingtheir spray up to the very edge of the band of trees, and there was nosign of the canoe. There were other things to be seen, however. Rocksand reefs and islets, almost smothered in foam, were visible to east andsouth, while to west and north, at a distance of several miles,stretched what appeared to be continuous land, rising high.

  The boys marveled at the sight, and at once questioned the Indian aboutthe Island of Yellow Sands. "What was it your grandfather said about theisland, Etienne?" Jean asked. "Did he not describe it? Was it large orsmall, high or low?"

  Etienne shook his head. "That I cannot tell you, little brother," hereplied. "My grandfather told of nothing but the beach with the yellowsands and the waves rolling high upon it. Whether the island was largeor small, high or low, wooded or barren, I do not remember that he said.In some of the tales, it is said that fierce beasts came out of thewoods to attack the braves who tried to carry away the sand, but whetherthose tales are true or are only told to frighten the white man and keephim away from the gold, I do not know."

  While Etienne was speaking, Ronald had been gazing intently at thestretch of land hazy and blue in the distance. When the Indian hadfinished, the boy said slowly: "I do not believe that land can be theisland we seek. If the Island of Yellow Sands were as large and high andplainly visible as that, some one would have found and explored it longago. No, that is either part of the mainland, or one of the greaterislands that men know. Surely to have escaped the white men's eyes forso many years, the Island of Yellow Sands must be small and low andinconspicuous."

  "So it would seem indeed," agreed Jean. "That land may be, as you say, apart of the main shore of the lake, or one of the great islands, Royale,Philippeau or Ponchartrain. Yet we can scarcely be sure that the islandwe seek is not a large one, just because men have not found it. Who,either white man or red, has ever traveled over all this great lake? Thecanoes go along the shores, and even the sailing vessels follow theirregular courses. No man knows what may lie in the center of thesewaters. Is that not true, Nangotook?"

  The Ojibwa nodded in assent. "Many tales are told," he replied solemnly,"but they are only tales. No man knows."

  "There is one thing certain," said Ronald the practical, "we can't findout what that land is until we cross to it, and we can't cross until wehave a craft of some kind."

  "And even though we had the best of canoes," Jean added, "we could notgo through this sea."

  "Then 'tis something to eat we must be seeking first," the younger boyresponded. "I'm hungry indeed, but not quite ready to eat gull, until wesee if we can find other food."

  All efforts to obtain anything else eatable failed Fishing from therocks, even in those patches quiet water that were sheltered from windand waves, brought no result. Nothing edible grew on the island but afew blueberries and bearberries, and the gulls had stripped the plantsof their fruit. The castaways had to eat bark, leaves and roots, or trythe flesh of the gulls.

  They attempted to capture some of the young gulls by creeping up on themand seizing them or striking them with a canoe paddle, but all the youngwere full grown, able to swim and fly, and were so shy and wary that noteven Nangotook succeeded in killing one. Snaring was equallyunsuccessful, and some of the precious ammunition had to be sacrificed.Ronald was the best shot of the three, so the hunting was entrusted tohim. Every time he fired, the birds rose from the rocks in a screamingcloud of gray and white, but he was fortunate enough to secure several.He shot young gulls, thinking they would be tenderer than the old.

  The birds were plucked, cut up and boiled, and the two hungry boys andthe Indian devoured every bit of the strong, fishy tasting meat. Theiruninviting meal down, they set about constructing some kind of a craftto take them away from the island when the waves should go down. Thetrees were all small and unsuitable for canoe making. The best the threecould do was to build a raft. They felled the straightest of the littletrees, trimmed them of their branches, and bound t
hem together withtough roots and strips of bark. So much of the growth on the exposedrock was stunted and twisted by the winds, that straight trunks werefew. The harsh cries of the gulls seemed to mock at their efforts, butthey finished their task at last, just as the sun was setting. Thoughthe raft was small, rough and very imperfect, they believed it wouldhold them up and enable them to reach the distant shore in calm weather.

  They had decided to make directly for that shore. The other islands andislets, visible from the one where they were stranded, appeared to bemere heaps of wind and wave-swept rock. It seemed unlikely that any sandwhatever was to be found on the and the danger of trying to coast suchrock piles in a clumsy raft was too great to be risked. If thegold-seekers could but reach a forested shore, where they could buildanother canoe, they might return and explore every island, but they musthave a good boat first.