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

by Ethel C. Brill

  XXI

  COMPELLED TO GIVE UP THE SEARCH

  In the woods back from the beach, the castaways built a rough wigwam.Even in the partial protection of the trees, it was hard work in thedriving rain and sleet, but all three were soaking wet and bitterlychilled. They had to have shelter and warmth. Fortunately the roll ofapakwas had been saved. Poles were set up, and Nangotook and Jean,beginning at the bottom, wrapped the apakwas around the framework, eachstrip overlapping the one below, so that the water could not run downbetween. More poles and branches were tied with withes over the barkcovering to hold it in place.

  In the meantime Ronald had been cutting fuel. The wood was wet andcoated with ice. Even the Indian might have striven in vain for a blazehad he not been lucky enough to find a small, dead birch, thatcontained, within its protecting bark, dry heart wood that crumbled topowder. With this tinder he succeeded in kindling bark and fineshavings. Then he added dead limbs split into strips, and finally largerbirch wood and resinous spruce. On one side of the fire, which had beenmade within the lodge, Ronald piled the wood he had cut, and on theother the three crouched to dry their soaked clothes and warm theirchilled bodies. They had nothing to eat, and no way of getting anythingin the bitter, driving storm, which was continually growing worse.

  A miserable night they spent in that rude shelter, huddled together ondamp evergreen branches, under their one remaining blanket, which theyhad dried before the fire. Surf lashed the beach, and the wind roared inthe tree tops, that swayed and clashed together, the trunks creaking asif they must snap off and be hurled down on the wigwam. Sleet and frozensnow rattled on the bark covering. It was lucky indeed for thetreasure-seekers that they had been cast ashore before the storm reachedits height. Long before nightfall it had grown so violent that there wasnot one chance in a thousand for a canoe to live through it.

  The northeaster continued to rage with varying degrees of fury for twomore days. Rain, sleet and snow did not fall constantly, but came inshowers and squalls, with intervals between, while the gale blewunceasingly, though not always with equal violence, and the sun nevershowed itself. In the quieter intervals Nangotook and the boys cut fuelfor the fire and sought for food, but during the more furious spellsthey were compelled to remain under shelter. Even if the canoe had notbeen too badly damaged to float, they could not have gone on the waterto fish, and all efforts to catch anything from the shore failed. Ifthere were any animals in the vicinity, they were not abroad in thestorm, but remained snug in their holes and lairs, and, the ground beingcovered with icy snow, no tracks revealed their hiding places. Nangotookdug down through snow and ice for some roots he knew to be edible, andthe boys found a few hazelnuts. It was too late for berries; they hadall fallen or been eaten by birds and animals. So little could thecastaways find that was eatable that they were even glad of alder seeds.Under-nourished as they were, they felt the chilling cold all the moreseverely, and both boys agreed that they had never put through somiserable a period as those three nights and two days.

  It was no wonder that Nangotook felt this to be the final andunmistakable warning of the manito that they must give up the search forthe treasure that belonged to him. On the second night of the storm hehad a dream that strengthened his conviction. Very seriously andimpressively he related the dream to the lads in the morning.

  "While my body slept," he said, "Amik, the Great Beaver, appeared to me.He was larger than the greatest moose. His body filled the wigwam. Therewas no room for his tail, so it stuck out of the door. He looked at mesternly, and in a voice that drowned the clashing of the trees in thewind and the rattling of the sleet against the bark, he asked me why Ihad not heeded the warnings. I tried to answer, but could not, for mytongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Then he spoke again, and forbademe, and the white men with me, to go farther out into the lake. We mustturn back to shore, he said, and again he asked why I had not gone backwhen I had been warned the first time, and the second time, and thethird time. Then I loosened my tongue from the roof of my mouth, andanswered that the white youths were young and rash and would not turnback. 'The manitos of the waters and the islands are angry with you,'Amik replied. 'If the white youths will not turn back, they must bedestroyed. I warn you because you are of my blood. Leave them to theirfate, and return to the shore before it is too late.' But I gathered upmy courage and answered Amik. 'Grandfather,' I said, 'I cannot leavethem. It was I who led them on this adventure, and if I should leavethem and go back without them, I should be a coward and dishonored. Ifthey must perish, I too must perish.' The Great Beaver looked at me, andwas silent a long time. 'If you will not leave them, make them turnback,' he said, and his voice was like thunder rolling in the wigwam andhis look was even sterner than before. 'Make them turn back. The manitosare angry. They lose patience. I have warned you.' And then hedisappeared and I woke, and the flesh stood up in little points all overmy body, and my tongue was dry, and my hair prickled at the roots, and Iknew I must heed Amik's warning. Turn back, my brothers, before it istoo late!"

  Even Ronald felt no inclination to laugh at Nangotook's vision. While hehad no faith in such a creature as the Great Beaver, the dream itselfimpressed him deeply. Belief in the mysterious character and meaning ofdreams was common among all men at that time. The boy was not lesssuperstitious than the average man of his period and race. Fromchildhood he had heard the Scottish tales of dreams and warnings andsecond sight, and to these old world superstitions had been addedothers native to the new world. He had refused to regard the northernlights or the sudden appearance of the Sleeping Giant as a warning, butsuch a dream as this was a different matter. In spite of its fantasticform he felt, with the superstitious feeling of the time, that it mightbe a real warning or foreshadowing of disaster to come. He strove toshake off the impression the dream had made upon him, but found he couldnot. Indeed it affected him even more than it seemed to affect Jean.

  The storm could not last forever, and when, on the third morning, thecastaways found that the wind had abated and the sun was breakingthrough the clouds, they were encouraged to believe that the worst wasover. They had thought themselves on a point of the main island, butsoon discovered that their refuge was in reality a narrow island abouttwo miles long. Other land lay close by, but before they could reach itor even fish successfully, they must repair the canoe. So Etienne setabout the task, replacing the broken ribs and sheathing, sewing onpatches and gumming the strained seams. During the storm it had beenimpossible to do such work in the open, and the hut had been too smallto hold both the canoe and its crew.

  While Etienne worked on the canoe, the boys made another search forfood. Through the icy snow, which was disappearing rapidly wherever thesun could reach it, they tramped and scrambled about among the trees andalong the pebbly beaches, rocks and boulders, but obtained nothingexcept a few hazelnuts and one squirrel that Ronald killed with astone.

  Jean caught sight of the glossy brown, rat-like head of a mink swimmingnear shore, saw the head go under suddenly, and waited to see if thesmall fisher would secure its prey. In a moment the head reappeared, andthe slim-bodied little animal swam to shore, a small fish in its mouth.It laid the fish down to kill it by biting it through the neck, but atthat instant Jean sprang forward. A mink is very fierce and brave forits size, and this one stood over its catch for a moment snarling, then,with an almost incredibly swift movement, seized the fish, turned andtook to the water. Farther along the bank it landed again, and, like abrown streak, it was away and out of sight, long before the boy had gonehalf-way to its landing place. His plan to frighten it, so it would leaveits catch, had failed completely.

  The canoe having been repaired, and a slender meal of squirrel broth andhazelnuts eaten, the three set out from the south shore of the littleisland. To the southwest, separated by a very narrow channel, was moreland. The water was quiet, and they paddled slowly along, fishing linesout. Soon they discovered that they were in a bay, the land closing inahead of them. Lake herring were jumping about them, and,
with a barkscoop attached to a pole, Ronald succeeded in taking a few to be used asbait for larger fish. The fishermen circled the bay, and rounded a pointalmost opposite the southern end of the island where they had beenstorm-bound. They found themselves in a very narrow cove, scarcely aquarter of a mile broad in its widest part and perhaps two miles long.In that narrow harbor they caught in quick succession, with the herringbait, three large pickerel, each one giving them a lively fight beforeit was landed. Another they lost when it snapped the line. Elated overtheir good luck, they returned to their camp to clean and cook theirfish.

  The hearty meal put new strength into the boys, and for the first timesince they were cast ashore in the storm they felt equal to making plansfor the future. The prospect was serious enough. October, "the moon ofthe falling leaf," as the Ojibwa called it, had come, and the storm andsnow of the last few days had given the wanderers a foretaste of winter.There might be, probably would be, many good days before winter set inin earnest, but on the other hand, they knew that genuine winter mightcome at any time, for the autumn season on Lake Superior is a veryuncertain one. Real winter might hold off until well into November orDecember and give them time to reach the Sault in safety, but it hadbeen known to arrive in October. They could put little trust in theweather, and the way back to the River Ste. Marie was long. Moreover ifthey were to make the journey with any show of speed, they must beprovisioned for it. The first necessity was a supply of food.

  Even Ronald had given up hope of finding the Island of Yellow Sands thatyear. They could spend no more time in seeking for it. The risk of thesearch, in the autumn storms and rough weather, had become too greateven for him. The adventurers had been almost miraculously saved threetimes, from thunder storm, fog and northeaster, but surely it would betempting Providence to undertake any more such rash voyages. He did notadmit that Nangotook's dream had anything to do with his decision, butin reality the dream had not been without influence. Had conditions beenfavorable, the warning alone would not have turned him back, though itmight have made him apprehensive and uneasy, but all the conditions wereunfavorable, and common sense and superstition both urged abandonment ofthe search.

  Nangotook emphatically declared that he would have nothing to do withany further search for the island that autumn. He could never lookJean's father in the face again, he said, if he did not take the boyback safe. The Indian showed such determination that the boys realizednothing could move him from his decision. He would find some means ofpreventing the others from making another attempt, if they showed anydisposition to do so. "He would knock us over the head to keep us quiet,and paddle off with us in the opposite direction, if he could not handleus any other way," Ronald confided to Jean later.

  So, with reluctance, but from a necessity they could not blind theireyes to, the boys postponed the search for the golden island, and turnedtheir thoughts to getting back to the Sault. To strike out directly forthe north shore seemed as perilous as seeking the island. Yet they mustreach the mainland some way. Nangotook counseled that, instead oftraveling to the north, they try to reach the northwest shore, GrandePortage, if possible, by going west. They were now somewhere on thenorthwest side of Minong. A number of years before, Nangotook, withothers of his tribe, had crossed to the island from a point on the shorea little to the north of Grande Portage. They had steered southeast, hesaid, and making the journey between sunrise and noon, had reachedMinong at its lower end. From there they had gone northeast along theshore of the island to a cove with a narrow entrance, where they hadobtained a store of copper. The band or bracelet, decorated with apattern of incised lines, which he wore on his arm, was made from thatcopper, he said. Returning the same way, they had again crossed safely.The leader of the party had said that his tribe, from times long past,had always taken that route to Minong, because the distance from theshore was shortest that way. If the weather turned bad, the trip fromthe lower end of the island to the cove, where copper was so plentiful,could be made overland. The Ojibwa advised accordingly that the threetry first to make their way along shore, by water if they could, by landif necessary, to the southwest end of the island, and then across toGrande Portage. There they could get a supply of food and ammunition,blankets and other things for the long trip to the Sault, or, if wintercame early, they might remain at the Portage until spring. His planseemed a wise one, and the lads readily agreed to it. There wassomething cheering in the thought that the trading post at the GrandePortage lay no farther away. Surely there was a good chance of reachingit before winter set in. The Sault de Ste. Marie seemed terriblyremote.