We obeyed and the sail fell down, the yardarm making a bang as it struck the logs. Papa brushed an arm over his forehead. “I think we can trust that. If the wind pushes you where you don't want to go, at an island, for instance, you must be able to down sail in a flash. Even then a heavy raft will keep moving for some time, but we don't want the sail helping it along.”
Sam and I were used to keeping our feet on a raft, after being with Reuben, but Cade and the Mallorys needed practice. Elisha and Jeremiah had cowhide boots, which tended to slip more than our moccasins. Mama got busy and made pairs for them, sewing them with thongs as we sat by our fire after supper. One night she put down her work and was looking sad.”
“Penny for your thoughts, Martha,” Papa said.
“I'm thinking about Elizabeth, back at the house, taking care of things there. I wish she could have a break as I did.”
I thought she was giving me the opening I needed. “Could she come with us to Quebec City on the raft?”
“Would you allow her?” Papa asked Mama. “She would be as safe as any of us.”
Mama smiled. “I think that's a wonderful idea.”
“You'd be on your own, with the five youngest,” Papa said, looking doubtful. “Smith's still only eight. He tries hard, but he's not very big.”
“I could have one of the McNish girls come and spend the nights with me. I don't mind being alone with the children during the day. I'm not nervous about the nights either, but I would like company in case anyone takes ill.”
“Then that's settled,” said Papa. “As long as Elizabeth wants to come.”
“She'll jump at the chance!” I said confidently. I knew my sister better than anyone else. “I'd like to see her face when you tell her.”
“You will,” Papa said. “You and Cade may take Mama home in the bateau and bring Elizabeth back. I want to send some grain to Coleman's Corners for winter feed, and to be ground into cornmeal and flour.”
Before we were ready to leave, our friend Mr. Truelove Butler came by in his canoe, as he had promised when he saw us with Reuben. I had first met him when we were arrested in Schenectady, and Papa and I found him in the jail cell where we had been confined. As soon as I recognised our old friend, I ran to the beach and helped him lift the delicate craft from the water. While we walked towards our stubble fields, the rest of the family gathered, Mama in the lead.
“How nice to see you again, Truelove,” she said, extending a hand.
“I've wanted to come for months, but I had to wait till my autumn work was finished,” he said. Then he pointed to our raft. “I've heard about that, Caleb, and decided I had to see it close up.”
“I pray it's sturdy enough,” Papa said. “Tell me what you think.”
Everyone trooped to the raft and got aboard. Mr. Butler seemed most impressed. Papa had us hoist and lower the sail, which we did without tangling anything. Our guest invited us to have a meal at his farm while we were on our way downriver, but Papa declined.
“I'm sorry, but I am afraid to stop just there. The river's very straight and the current is strong. The only way to slow these rafts down is by steering out of the channel and into a quiet bay.”
That surprised me. I could not recall that Reuben had trouble stopping the raft. Then I thought again, and realized Papa was right. Reuben had chosen spots where the current was weaker than in the main channel.
Mr. Butler stayed the night, and he set off in his canoe just before Cade and 1 left in the bateau with Mama, Robert and Margaret. The southwest wind was blowing briskly, which gave promise of a fast run to Buell's Bay. Cade kept the canvas straight while I pulled on the halyard and our sail slipped up the mast. Margaret and Robert were happy, trotting along the floor, Mama keeping a watchful eye in case they got too close to the gunwales. In four hours we were at Mr. Buell's and Mama was picking up a few things she needed.
“My hired boy will drive you to Coleman's, Mrs. Seaman,” Mr Buell told Mama. “I hear the only horse at your place is the colt. How is the raft coming along?”
“It's ready to sail, Mr. Buell. I expect it will be leaving Yonge Township as soon as Cade and Ned return there. And thank you for your kind offer. I'd be most grateful for the drive home.”
Needless to say, Elizabeth was delighted when Mama told her she could come with us if she liked. “I never hoped to see Montreal or Quebec,” she fairly shouted, dancing about.
She went off to the McNishes almost before we were in the house, and returned with the promise that Hannah, the eldest girl, would come the next evening and stay as long as Mama wanted her. Elizabeth showed us the cloak she had made from the green velvet Uncle William had brought. It was lined with squirrel skins for extra warmth.
“I'm glad I thought of the fur,” she said. “It will be perfect for late autumn.”
“You can't wear that on the raft,” said I. “You'd ruin it.”
“For the raft and the brigade,” Mama said. “I think a pair of Ned's outgrown breeches I've saved for Smith, and one of the coats I've been making. But you should pack the cloak and your good muslin dress to wear at inns and the one you're wearing for the stage coming home. And I'll send the cloth Uncle gave Papa so he can have a suit made in Montreal.”
“We'll have quite a lot to carry,” Elizabeth said. “Dave'll be happy to drive us in his cart, I know.”
I felt that usual stab of jealousy, but I turned to practical matters. “What'll we do about the dog?”
“Goggie will stay here,” Mama said. “He's such a good watch-dog.”
“You'll have to keep him tied all the time we're gone,” I said. “Or he'll go looking for Elizabeth.”
“I should have thought of that myself,” Elizabeth sounded so sad. “We'd still have Goliath if I hadn't left him to go on the raft we made while on our journey from Schenectady.”
Goliath was the furry beast who had got lost in the forest and was never seen again. Elizabeth adored him, but I had thought him rather stupid. When we decided to move our belongings on a raft, Elizabeth, Cade, Sam and I went with Mr. Butler. Papa and Mama and the four youngest went with the horses, and Goliath. When he disappeared we believed he had gone in search of my sister. Personally, I much preferred Goggie, who was more intelligent than Goliath.
As Elizabeth expected, Dave Shipman drove us to Buell's Bay. We carried the extra warm clothes, some food for the raft, and blankets. Behind us Goggie, tied up outside the house, howled in misery. I did not know whether I was sorrier for the dog or for Elizabeth, who soon covered her ears and shut her eyes.
We had not finished loading the bateau before we heard Dave's dismayed, “Oh, no!”
A delighted Goggie came galloping from behind Buell's store, a length of rope dangling from his deerskin collar. “Didn't take you long to chew through that, did it, boy?” said I. “Now what'll we do? He'd be a nuisance on the raft, and I don't think dogs are allowed on the stages.”
“I'll take him home with me,” Dave said.
What a hope! Visions of Goggie meeting us downstream filled my head. Fortunately I had misjudged my sister, the dog, and Dave. As Goggie sat quivering in the bateau, Elizabeth raised an arm and pointed to where Dave was standing on the jetty.
“Go with him, Gog,” she commanded sternly.
Tail drooping, he looked as though he had lost his last friend. She glared and repeated the order. Slowly, head bowed, he hopped on the jetty and pattered to Dave's side. “Good fellow,” Dave praised him, rubbing his head. “Come along.”
As Dave climbed into his cart, the dog followed him. We hoisted the bateau sail and Elizabeth and I each used a pair of oars till we had cleared the bay. The wind was from the northeast this morning, which meant sailing rather than rowing. It was also bitterly cold, and I sat hunched under a blanket at the rudder while Cade manned the sheets.
“Happy?” I asked Elizabeth.
“What do you think?” she replied, sighing deeply.
Chapter 11
Our Great Raft
Sam was standing on the raft when we arrived in the bateau. “You'll never guess what,” was his greeting.
“I don't care much for guessing games,” Cade said. “What's the matter?”
Still Sam teased. “Come and look. Something's missing.”
The three of us furled the sail and secured the bateau before joining him on the raft. Cade and I could not find anything amiss. I suppose that was because we had looked at the raft so often. Elizabeth, though, was seeing it with different eyes.
“Don't you need a rudder?” she enquired.
Cade clutched the sides of his head and groaned. “How on earth could we have overlooked that?”
We found Papa outside the barn, patting one of the fillies while deep in conversation with Elisha Mallory. I assumed he was making last-minute plans, for Elisha was to stay and look after our farm while Jeremiah accompanied us on the raft. Papa glanced up at our approach, and his face seemed troubled. When we explained about the rudder he looked grave for a moment, then he saw the funny side.
“We'd have discovered that pretty quickly if we had prepared to sail,” he said. “But Elisha has sad news.”
“I was just telling Mr. Seaman that Pa's had a fall and won't be able to do our work for a while. Jeremiah's needed at home and can't go with you as crew.”
“The rest of us can manage the raft,” I spoke up. “Elizabeth can handle mooring lines as well as any of us. The only time we'll miss Jeremiah is when we have to take the raft apart in Quebec. That's pretty heavy work for anyone.”
“Surely I can help in some way,” Elizabeth said.
“We put fifty logs from our farm into the raft,” Elisha continued. “Pa says you should give us cash for forty, and the other ten will be payment for delivering them at Quebec.”
Papa shook his head. “That's far too much. We'll pay you for all fifty. I'll not profit from another's ill luck.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Seaman. We want to be fair.”
“Then that's settled,” said Papa. “Now for the rudder and then we can get under way.”
That did not take long. We had plenty of boards lying about and we soon fashioned the long, oarlike arm, the blade good and wide. We built a bracket on the back of the raft to hold it, and Papa practiced sweeping it back and forth to make certain it worked properly. Then he checked the halyard and had us raise and lower the sail yet again. By now those motions were second nature to us, which was what he wanted. At last he was satisfied. He inspected the baskets of food stowed in the cabin—smoked hams, dried apples, eggs, cheese, lots of potatoes and carrots, and flour from which we could make pancakes. With the fish we could catch, we would be well fed for most of the journey.
There was not much breeze, but it was from the southwest, and the sail filled as soon as we hoisted it. Sam was at the rudder as we loosened the mooring lines. Elizabeth watched intently as the cumbersome raft began to move. She caught a line I tossed her and began coiling it neatly as I jumped aboard. The unfamiliar part, for me, was the first few miles. We had to move out into main channel, the one the ships used, once we were below Grenadier Island. There were many shoals close to the north shore which would spell disaster if we grounded on any of them.
When we were above the Narrows we steered across the river almost to the north shore. The main channel now lay north of the islands of the Narrows, close to the Canadian shore. We took turns steering, as Papa kept watch for patches of dark or rough water that warned of shoals. At this point there were many, lying close to both sides of the main channel.
About a mile below Buell's Bay, a canoe approached us and we recognized Mr. Butler in the rear. A young lad was paddling in the bow, and a woman rested her back against the centre thwart.
“We've brought a picnic,” Mr. Butler called out. “Since you're worried about tying up here.”
“What a delightful surprise,” Papa called back. “Welcome aboard!”
Elizabeth caught the line the boy in the bow threw, and I took Mr. Butler's hand to draw the stern parallel with the side of the raft. In a trice we had tied both ends of the canoe, and the introductions began.
“My son Truelove,” Mr. Butler said as the boy hopped out. “My wife Mrs. Butler.”
“Very nice to meet you at last, Mrs. Butler,” Papa said as he took her hand and helped her out of the tippy canoe.
I thought Truelove Junior resembled his father, the same sturdy build. Mrs. Butler was pleasant-looking with pink cheeks and brown curls round her face. Her gown and cloak were of homespun and a straw bonnet covered her mob cap. Mr. Butler handed up two baskets. It was mid-afternoon and we were well and truly ready to dine. The Butlers spread out blankets, and on top of them a glistening white table cloth. From the baskets came cold chicken, slices of freshly baked, buttered bread, preserved strawberries in thick, sweet syrup, carrot pudding and flagons of cider. By this time we were passing Captain Sherwood's farm.
“I guess he's already left with his latest raft,” Mr. Butler observed. “It was nearly finished the last time I was down here.”
In no time all the food was gone. We chatted for a bit and I told Mr. Butler about taking Mama to Long Island and about seeing Captain Fonda in Albany. He whistled over that, and told me he had finally been sent the money from his late father's estate. That was the reason why he had gone back into New York State, when he had been recognized as a Loyalist and found himself in the Schenectady jail.
He rose to his feet. “We'd better not linger,” he said. “We'll be paddling against the current, and must get home for evening chores.”
“We certainly appreciate such kindness,” Papa said as he bowed over Mrs. Butler's hand and kissed it. “Your meal was delicious.”
After we waved them off in their canoe, we lowered sail for the ride down the Galop Rapids and left it down until we had passed Rapide Plat. I watched Elizabeth as the raft surged forward, and she seemed to be enjoying the motion. Cade, Sam and I moved about, inspecting the withies, but all of them held firm. Papa was at the rudder at the time. Afterwards we looked out for a good place to stop for the night, and he soon steered into quiet waters. We caught plenty of fresh bass, built a fire on shore, and feasted.
“After everything we ate this afternoon, how can we be this hungry so soon?” Elizabeth remarked.
As the night was fine, most of us slept wrapped in blankets near the fire. Papa stayed aboard the raft so that if it broke loose he would know to rouse us. We next tied up at the spot above the Long Sault Rapids where Reuben had stopped the autumn before. It was only mid-afternoon and we kept watching for the Mohawk pilots. They came in their canoes before nightfall, and slept round our fire, ready to build their crib at first light.
Papa, Sam and I knew what lay ahead, while Cade and Elizabeth had questioning looks on their faces. We gave everyone breakfast—more fresh fish, slices of ham and cakes made of eggs, flour and water which we fried in one of our pans. Elizabeth made tea, which the Mohawks seemed to relish. Then we got to work on the crib. Papa, Cade and Sam helped cut the eight logs. Elizabeth and I went in quest of the willow strips to bind it. We severed them with the knife Uncle William had given Cade, and returned with our arms laden down. One of the Mohawks gave Elizabeth a wondering look.
“Aren't you a woman?” he asked.
She laughed as she nodded. “Petticoats don't go with rafts.”
“Well, you don't need to be afraid when we go down the rapids,” he continued. “We're very good pilots and always bring the rafts through in one piece.”
“I know I won't be afraid,” she responded.
Again the Mohawks stationed themselves along the rapids, and again we released the crib. Again we waited a long time before the Mohawks were all back and aboard the raft. The roar of the water soon drowned out everything but the shouts of the pilots as they changed places at the rudder and used their poles. I watched Cade and Elizabeth while hanging on with everything I possessed. Even this second time I was terrified, and I felt faint when th
e last pilot was steering for shore.
On the bank a very pale Cade swayed and dropped the mooring line I threw him. Elizabeth seemed wobbly, but so did Sam. Once we had tied up, we thanked the Mohawks, this time with Papa in the lead, shaking each man's hand and giving him some coins.
“Will we see you next year, sir?” one of them asked.
“Maybe,” Papa rejoined. “But I think in two years is more likely.”
“You may see Captain Sherwood at Quebec,” another informed us. “He's only two days ahead of you.”
Before we untied, Papa had us inspect the withies again, and he was not satisfied with some of them. We spent the rest of the day bringing in more of the willow strips and binding some of the logs more tightly. The Long Sault Rapids were the worst, but Papa did not want to take any risks. We still had to tackle the white waters at the Cedars and Cascades and at Lachine.
We had rain as we floated along Lake St. Francis below Pointe au Baudet, at the boundary between Upper and Lower Canada. We tied up to trees and spent a night in the cabin because the land was so wet. At the Cedars Rapids, Indians built another crib and guided the raft as before, until we had descended the Cascades.
“This is Lake St. Louis,” I told Elizabeth as the shores became more distant. Montreal's not far ahead now.”
“I'm looking forward to landing there,” she said.
“That won't be until we're on our way home,” I told her.
“What a good time we'll have on this visit. With pots of money to spend,” Sam gloated, rubbing his hands together.
“Let's not think about that till we have the money in hand,” Papa cautioned. “Isn't there a saying, ‘don't sell the bear's skin till you've killed it’?”
We had no difficulty with the Lachine Rapids. After the Indian pilots left the raft, Papa again had us check the bindings carefully to make certain everything was still strong. Again we added more withies. This was freezing cold work now, as the temperature of both air and water was very low. We found we needed all the heavy clothing we had brought.
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