Of course, the reports of the guns must have frightened
any other swans that were near. It was not likely they would find any
more before going some distance farther down the river; so, having
stowed away in a safe place the two already killed, the hunters paddled
rapidly onward.
They had hardly gone half a mile farther, when another
flock of swans was discovered. These were approached in a similar way,
and no less than three were obtained—Francois making a remarkable shot,
and killing with both barrels. A little farther down, one of the “hoopers”
was killed; and still farther on, another trumpeter; making in all no
less than seven swans that lay dead in the bottom of the canoe!
These seven great birds almost filled the little craft to
the gunwales, and you would think that our “torch-hunters” ought to have
been content with such a spoil; but the hunter is hard to satisfy with
game, and but too often inclined to “spill much more blood” than is
necessary to his wants. Our voyageurs, instead of desisting, again set
the canoe in motion, and continued the hunt.
A short distance below the place where they had shot the
last swan, as they were rounding a bend in the river, a loud rushing
sounded in their ears; similar to that produced by a cascade or
waterfall. On first hearing it, they were startled and somewhat alarmed.
It might be a “fall,” thought they. Norman could not tell: he had never
travelled this route; he did not know whether there were falls in the
Red River or not, but he believed not. In his voyage to the South, he
had travelled by another route; that was, up the Winnipeg River, and
through Rainy Lake and the Lake of the Woods to Lake Superior. This is
the usual and well-known track followed by the employes of the Hudson’s
Bay Company; and Norman had travelled it.
In this uncertainty the canoe was brought to a stop, and
our voyageurs remained listening. The noise made by the water was not
very distant, and sounded like the roaring of “rapids,” or the rush of a
“fall.” It was evidently one or the other; but, after listening to it
for a considerable time, all came to the conclusion that the sound did
not proceed from the Red River itself, but from some stream that emptied
into it upon the right. With this belief they again put the canoe in
motion, and glided slowly and cautiously onward.
Their conjecture proved to be correct. As they approached
nearer, they perceived that the noise appeared every moment more and
more to their right; and presently they saw, below them, a rapid current
sweeping into the Red River from the right bank. This was easily
distinguished by the white froth and bubbles that were carried along
upon its surface, and which had evidently been produced by some fall
over which the water had lately passed. The hunters now rowed fearlessly
forward, and in a few moments came opposite the debouchure of the
tributary stream, when a considerable cascade appeared to their view,
not thirty yards from the Red River itself. The water foamed and dashed
over a series of steps, and then swept rapidly on, in a frothy current.
They had entered this current, and were now carried along with increased
velocity, so that the oarsmen suspended operations, and drew their
paddles within the canoe.
A flock of swans now drew their attention. It was the
largest flock they had yet seen, numbering nearly a score of these noble
birds,—a sight, as Norman informed them, that was exceedingly rare even
in the most favoured haunts of the swan. Rarely are more than six or
seven seen together, and oftener only two or three. A grand coup was
determined upon. Norman took up his own gun, and even Lucien, who
managed the stern oar, and guided the craft, also brought his piece — a
very small rifle—close to his hand, so that he might have a shot as well
as the others.
The canoe was directed in such a manner that, by merely
keeping its head down the stream, it would float to the spot where the
swans were.
In a short while they approached very near the great
birds, and our hunters could see them sitting on the water, with
upraised necks, gazing in wonder at the torch. Whether they sounded
their strange note was not known, for the “sough” of the waterfall still
echoed in the ears of the chnoe-men, and they could not hear aught else.
Basil and Norman fired first, and simultaneously; but the
louder detonations of Francois’ double-barrel, and even the tiny crack
of Lucien’s rifle, were heard almost the instant after. Three of the
birds were killed by the volley, while a fourth, evidently “winged,” was
seen to dive, and flutter down-stream, The others mounted into the air,
and disappeared in the darkness.
During the time occupied in this manoeuvre, the canoe, no
longer guided by Lucien’s oar, had been caught by some eddy in the
current, and swept round stern-foremost. In this position the light no
longer shone upon the river a-head, but was thrown up-stream. All in a
downward direction was buried in deep darkness. Before the voyageurs
could bring the canoe back to its proper direction, a new sound fell
upon their ears that caused some of them to utter a cry of terror. It
was the noise of rushing water, but not that which they had already
heard and passed. It was before them in the river itself. Perhaps it was
a cataract, and they were sweeping rapidly to its brink!
The voice of Norman was heard exclaiming, “Hold with your
oars!—the rapids!—the rapids!” At the same time he himself was seen
rising up and stretching forward for an oar. All was now consternation;
and the movements of the party naturally consequent upon such a sudden
panic shook the little craft until her gunwales lipped the water. At the
same time she had swung round, until the light again showed the stream
a-head, and a horrid sight it was. Far as the eye could see was a reach
of foaming rapids. Dark points of rocks, and huge black boulders,
thickly scattered in the channel, jutted above the surface; and around
and against these, the water frothed and hissed furiously. There was no
cataract, it is true — there is none such in Red River — but for all
purposes of destruction the rapids before them were equally dangerous
and terrible to the eyes of our voyageurs. They no longer thought of the
swans. The dead were permitted to float down unheeded, the wounded to
make its escape. Their only thought was to stop the canoe before it
should be carried upon the rapids.
With this intent all had taken to the oars, but in spite
of every exertion they soon found that the light craft had got within
the influence of the strong current, and was sucked downward more
rapidly than ever. Their backward strokes were to no purpose.
In a few seconds the canoe had passed over the first
stage of the rapids, and shot down with the velocity of an arrow. A huge
boulder lay directly in the middle of the channel, and against this the
current broke with fury, laving its sides in foaming masses. The canoe
was hurried to this point; and as the light was again turned up-stream,
none of the voyageurs could see this dangerous rock. But they could not
have shunned it then. The boat had escaped from their control, and spun
round at will. The rock once more came under the light, but just as the
canoe, with a heavy crash, was driven against it.
For some moments the vessel, pressed by the current
against the rock, remained motionless, but her sides were stove in, and
the water was rushing through. The quick eye of Basil—cool in all crises
of extreme danger—perceived this at a glance. He saw that the canoe was
a wreck, and nothing remained but to save themselves as they best might.
Dropping the oar, and seizing his rifle, he called to his companions to
leap to the rock: and all together immediately' sprang over the gunwale.
The dog Marengo followed after.
The canoe, thus lightened, heeled round into the current,
and swept on. The next moment she struck another rock, and was carried
over on her beams. The water then rushed in — the white bodies of the
swans, with the robes, blankets, and implements, rose on the wave; the
blazing knots were spilled from the pan, and fell with a hissing sound:
and a few seconds after they were extinguished, and all was darkness! |