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

The Sleeping Giant was faintly but unmistakably discernible lying on the water. When the boys considered his position, and the view they had had of him from the island, they began to be afraid that Nangotook was right, that the land to the northeast was only the place where they had been delayed so long, and not the Island of Golden Sands. They were loath to give up their new-born hope, however. As Ronald said, the only way to find out was to go and see. To cross those heaving waves in the teeth of the strong north wind was out of the question. Once more they must wait for favorable weather.

They went back to the more sheltered spot where they had landed. There they came upon something that put their disappointment, at not being able to cross to the island, out of their heads for the time being. Farther along the pebble beach they found the ashes of a fire and the bones and uneatable remains of a hare. Near by was the pole skeleton of a shelter, resting against the face of a rock. The Indian, after examining the place closely, concluded that the fire had been burning and the hare had been dressed and cooked since the rain of two nights before, but he doubted if the shelter had been occupied the past night. Probably the campers had not been away from the place over thirty-six hours at the farthest.

The boys were greatly excited over the find. Was this the camp of Le Forgeron Tordu and his Indian companion, and were the two still on their trail? The only way to answer the first question was to find their tracks. The pebble beach retained no clear traces of moccasined feet, and the men had doubtless departed by canoe, but back from the beach, part way up the slope, where the trees stood thick and the rock was covered with a layer of leaf mold, Jean came upon tracks. Unhesitatingly Nangotook pronounced the prints those of a man whose right foot turned out and who threw his weight more heavily upon that foot than upon the left. Not far away the Ojibwa found other tracks, made by another man. This trail he succeeded in following through the woods to the top of the ridge, where, in a narrow rock opening, a hare runway, he discovered the remains of a snare. The noose had been taken away, but the fence of twigs, leading to the spot where it had been set, remained.

It now seemed perfectly clear that the Frenchman and his Indian companion had been camping on the beach not longer ago than the morning before. Apparently Le Forgeron was still in pursuit of the gold-seekers. Had he seen them set out from the island before dawn, and had he followed? Nangotook thought that very unlikely. He did not believe Le Forgeron had been where he could observe their departure. If he had been hiding anywhere on the island, it must have been in one of the caves on the north shore. Yet it did not seem likely that he had crossed from the island after the lifting of the fog, for the winds had been strong ever since. Nangotook doubted if the Blacksmith could have made his way across the stretch of open lake at any time during the past five days. He came to the conclusion that Le Forgeron must have crossed before the others left the island, perhaps immediately after he or his companion had hurled Ronald from the cliff. Ronald, however, pointed out that the wind and waves had been very unfavorable at that time, and the Indian was forced to admit that the boy was right. Unable to solve the problem, he shook his head doubtfully. “Awishtoya evil man,” he said, “very evil. Maybe he can put spell on waters and go when he pleases.”

“I have heard it said that he has sold himself to the devil,” Jean replied seriously, “so it may be indeed as you say. He may have seen us go, though, and if he followed he was caught in the fog too, and may have reached this place by accident. One thing is certain. He has been here. Surely it is not so important to know just when he came, as to discover where he has gone and whether he will return.”

“You are right,” Ronald agreed. “We must be tracking this enemy of ours. Unless he’s in league with the evil one, he has not crossed to that island over there within the last two days, that is sure. The wind and waves have been too high. And if that’s the island we came from, he would have no reason for going back. We had best be searching for him in the other direction.”

“We go in canoe up this water then,” and Nangotook pointed along the channel to the southwest, “and we take all the meat with us. Awishtoya has taken the apakwas from his wigwam. Yet he may come back. If we leave anything he will find it.”

“That is true,” cried Jean. “We must take everything with us, and leave no trace behind. This is no place for us to camp, if there’s a chance that Le Forgeron may return.”

Carefully the Indian erased all signs of their visit to the beach and to the woods and rocks near by. Stepping backwards, his body bent almost double, he smoothed out with his hands the tracks he and the boys had made in the adjacent forest. When he had completed his task, he was sure no traces remained that might not have been made by some passing animal.

Then the three embarked and paddled back through the quiet channel between point and islands. They penetrated to the head of a long narrow bay, that lay parallel to the one they had come through that morning and the evening before. There were many islands, and the shores were forested to the water’s edge. Though the searchers scanned the rocks and woods closely, they found no clear signs that a canoe had ever run in anywhere along either shore or on any of the islands. Several times they examined likely looking places, but always without definite result. Not one sure trace of Le Forgeron Tordu or of any human being did they find, though they made the complete circuit of the shore, reaching at last the rocky point they had passed that morning. So thorough was their search that it occupied most of the day.

Though they discovered no more clear signs of their enemy, the trip was not altogether fruitless, for, as they went along, they caught several fish, lake trout of smaller size than those they had taken out in the lake. Near the head of the bay Jean hooked a pickerel, and, at the mouth of a small stream, several brook trout. The explorers landed on a small, well wooded island, that lay across a narrow stretch of water from the inner side of the point to the east of the bay, and cooked their fish and made camp.

Etienne had almost convinced the boys that the island to the northwest was the one where they had been wind-bound. Nevertheless they were anxious to reach it, for they had resolved to strike out from there to east and north, in one more effort to find the land of golden sands. But the spirits of the lake were still against them, and four days longer they were held prisoner on the end of Minong. During most of the time the open lake was very rough. Traveling several miles across it, against a head or side wind, was far too perilous to be attempted in so frail a craft as a bark canoe. Only once for a few hours did the wind swing to a more favorable quarter, the south, and then it brought thick mist followed by fine, cold rain, almost as blinding as the fog. A strong west wind dispersed rain and mist and blew away the clouds, but made crossing as dangerous as ever.

Impatient as the treasure-seekers were during all that time, they could do nothing but make the best of the delay. They camped on the small island, where no enemy could approach under cover, and continued their search for Le Forgeron Tordu. Climbing to the top of the high ridge, they looked down another long bay, parallel with the two they were familiar with, and to wooded land and other stretches of water beyond. They were determined to explore that bay, but the strong wind and dangerous, outlying reefs made rounding the long point out of the question. So they were obliged to carry the canoe up the ridge, a hard and laborious portage, and with much difficulty take it down the steep north side. They caught a good supply of fish in that third bay, and found slight signs on two of the islands that human beings might have been there not many days before. But there were no clear tracks they could identify as those of the lame Frenchman. On the farther shore of the bay, near its head, they thought they had come upon a trail, but soon made up their minds that it was only the old track of some wild animal.

Wishing to save their dried meat for emergencies, they made every effort to obtain enough fresh meat and fish to sustain them. As only three rounds of ammunition remained for the one gun, Nangotook spent part of his time making bows and arrows for himself and Jean, leaving the gun to Ronald, who could be trusted not to waste his powder. The Ojibwa strung his bow with twisted caribou sinew, braided at the ends. The arrow shafts he made of serviceberry wood, straightening them by drawing them through a hole he had bored in a piece of bone. Some of the arrows, with points of wood hardened in the fire, were intended for shooting birds and squirrels. Others had heads of bone or chipped stone, let into a slit or groove in the end of the shaft and bound tight with soaked sinew, which contracted when dry. Nangotook insisted that the feathers used must be those of a bird of prey, or else the arrows would not be sufficiently deadly. Coming one day upon several hawks, which circled within easy range, as they prepared to dart down on a flock of migrating small birds that had paused to rest and feed among the alders, Ronald sacrificed one of his precious charges of ammunition to bring down one of the marauders. With hawk feathers, carefully cut and placed to give just the right weight and balance, Nangotook feathered his arrows. When he had constructed two bark quivers, the primitive hunting equipment was ready.

The Ojibwa demonstrated the use of the new weapon by shooting a squirrel and a gull in quick succession, and the boys, admiring his skill, at once set to work to practice with the other bow. Ronald, who was proud of his marksmanship, was chagrined to find that not only Nangotook but Jean could easily outshoot him both in range and accuracy. In his childhood the French lad had played with bows and arrows made by Nangotook, who had taught him how to use them, while to Ronald the weapon was entirely new.

The hide of the caribou was cured and dressed, and part of it made into new moccasins to replace the wanderers’ worn and ragged ones. From a bone that he had saved for the purpose, Nangotook also made, with much labor, a knife such as his ancestors must have used before the white men brought them steel and iron. Ronald’s knife had been lost or taken from him when he fell over the cliff, and the Indian insisted that the lad take his. He could use the bone one just as well, he said, and when Ronald hesitated to accept the gift, showed such plain signs of offense, that the boy hastened to take it to make amends. He guessed that this was Nangotook’s way of expressing gratitude for his rescue from drowning.

XX

THE NORTHEASTER

Late in the afternoon of the fourth day after the gold-seekers had reached the long point, the wind went down, and by an hour after sunset the waves had subsided enough to make crossing to the island to the northeast possible. So the three set out immediately, and made the traverse safely. Though twilight was deepening to darkness when they drew near the land, they had no difficulty in recognizing the place. It was not their Island of Golden Sands. To find that they must go farther north and east. It would have been useless to begin their search just then, however, for clouds were gathering and the night promised to be a black one. That they might camp nearer the northern end, that was to be their starting point, they paddled along the southeast shore of the island to the sand beach beyond the landlocked bay.

Before midnight they were awakened by a rain storm. With that storm began a period of almost heart-breaking waiting, that roused in the Indian the most gloomy fears, well-nigh discouraged Jean, and would have had the same effect on Ronald had he not clung with determined stubbornness to his purpose. There were times during the week of delay, when even he was almost ready to give up, but he kept his wavering to himself, insisting always that they must make one more attempt to find the golden sands. Not all of the weather that hindered them was of a kind the boys would ordinarily have called unpleasant. Most of the days were bright, but the wind blew incessantly, now from one point, now from another, but always so strongly that to start off into the open lake would have been the utmost folly. All the voyageurs’ strength and skill must have been spent in keeping the canoe from swamping, and, even if they had escaped drowning, they could have made almost no headway towards north and east.

They were anxious to save their precious caribou meat, so they made every effort to trap and shoot hares and squirrels, and to catch fish, but their luck was poor. Either there were very few of the little animals on the island or they had become exceedingly shy, for during the whole week but one hare and three squirrels were taken. The wind blew so hard that fishing was possible only in the bay or on the lee side of the island. From the inner bark of the cedar, softened by soaking, Etienne and the boys laboriously rolled and twisted enough tough cord for a small net, and by setting this at night and taking it up in the morning, they managed to get a few lake herring. But the catches, even with the net, were scanty, and the best efforts of the three were not sufficient to supply them with enough game and fish to keep them nourished. They were forced to eat so much of the dried caribou meat that their supply disappeared alarmingly.

For future use in lodge building, they prepared several apakwas, as Etienne called them, long strips composed of squares of birch bark sewed together with the cedar twine. These apakwas could be rolled and carried in the canoe, and were all ready to be wrapped around the framework of a wigwam.

During all that week the gold-seekers found no new traces of Le Forgeron, though they took advantage of an east wind one day to explore the caves on the northwest side of the island. The withered evergreen couches and the ashes of the fire were still on the beach in the largest cave, but there was nothing to indicate that any one had been there since Ronald’s visit.

A favorable day dawned at last, with a light breeze and blue sky, although a filmy haze lay on the water in the distance. The Ojibwa feared fog, but Ronald would wait no longer.

“There will never be a morning when something may not happen,” he cried impatiently. “If we fail to take this opportunity, there may not be another for days to come. We can be turning back any moment danger threatens, but we must take some chances no matter how good the conditions. Surely not one of us is fearing a risk, when there’s so much to gain, if we’re successful.”

Ronald had tried to speak without offense, but the Indian knew that the boy was making a direct appeal to his courage, and he was too proud to hesitate longer.

“Come then,” he said, “and may the manitos, – and the good God be kind to us.”

Their course of action, as soon as the weather should be favorable, had been decided long before. From the northern end of the island they would travel directly east for two hours, then turning north they would go in that direction for the same length of time, when, if they had not caught sight of the island they sought, they would turn to the east again for an hour’s paddling, then to the north for another hour and so on. If by sunset they were not in sight of their destination, Ronald consented to give up the search, and make for the nearest land, or if no land was in sight, to steer straight for the north shore. Indeed it seemed likely that by that time, unless they were hindered by contrary winds, they might be able to discern the shore and make directly towards it. The plan was a desperate one. Their only possibility of success, or even of reaching the north shore alive, lay in the continuance of good weather, and all three were familiar enough with the uncertainty and fickleness of Lake Superior winds and storms to realize in some degree the recklessness of the attempt. But the boys were young and rash. They had come through many dangers without serious accident. The very fact that their canoe had outridden the fearful storm on the night when they left the Rock of the Beaver, encouraged them to believe that they might get through safely even though the weather should change for the worse. Whatever the Ojibwa’s feelings were, he gave no sign, taking his place in the canoe in silence, and without a trace of emotion on his impassive face.

At first all went well, the wind was light, the waves scarcely high enough to be called waves, and the canoe made good speed to the east. To the north over the water they could see, among its companion islets, the rock that had sheltered them from the force of the storm. It was to the east, however, that they gazed eagerly. They went on in that direction for the agreed upon two hours, estimating the time by counting their paddle strokes. No island came into view. So they turned to the north. For two hours more they traveled steadily, but, though their eyes searched the water ahead and to either side, they caught no glimpse of land. The sun was shining and the sky blue overhead, yet a thin haze, diffused through the air, made it impossible to see any great distance. After two hours’ journey to the north they turned again to the east. Before they had gone far they noticed that the weather was beginning to thicken, the blue overhead was turning to gray, the breeze that had been so light all the morning was freshening, and becoming northeasterly. The signs made the boys uneasy, but Nangotook gave no indication of noticing them.

By the time they had traveled their hour to the east and had turned north again, the wind had strengthened so that paddling at an angle against it became hard work. The sky had grown lead gray, and, without the sun to guide them, the boys wondered how they were to keep their course. The distance was too hazy to afford any chance of discerning the north shore. They held on doggedly, but they had not been paddling north an hour when rain began to fall, fine and cold. It was driven from the northeast by the wind, that grew constantly stronger, penetrating their heavy clothes with its damp chill. All hope of finding the Island of Yellow Sands that day vanished from their hearts. Moreover the north shore must still be far away, and there seemed no chance of gaining it against a northeast storm that was steadily increasing in fury.

They struggled forward against wind and waves for a little while longer, but their paddles were of almost no avail to make headway. The most they could do was to keep the canoe right side up and avoid shipping water enough to sink it. At last the Indian did the only wise thing he could do under the circumstances. He gave the order to turn the boat and run with the wind. They could no longer make way against it, but, if they could keep the canoe from being swamped by following waves, the gale might bear them back to Minong and safety. The northwest direction of the storm was at least favorable to the attempt. The chief danger in running with the wind would be from the following waves that might easily overwhelm them. To increase their speed the boys tried to raise a sail, but a sudden gust, accompanied by sleet, which drove down upon them with great force, tore the blanket from their hands and blew it away. They could ill afford to spare their blankets, and they made no further attempt at sailing.

All their efforts were now devoted to keeping the canoe from being caught and up-ended or deluged by the waves, and in bailing out the water that threatened to swamp it. The wind blew a gale, lashing them with rain and stinging sleet that would have chilled them through if they had not had to work so hard. As it was they were so wholly taken up with the struggle to keep from going to the bottom, that they had no time to think of bodily discomfort, even though their clothes were soaked, their faces stinging, their hands aching with cold.

In a far shorter time than it had taken them to paddle to the north and east, the wind bore them back to the southwest. So close to its northwestern side that they could distinguish its cliffs through the rain and sleet, they ran by the island they had left a few hours before. There was no possibility of making a landing, and they began to fear that they would be borne past Minong also.

The great island extends several miles farther to the westward, however, and its outlying points and small islands lay directly in their way, too directly for safety. Their course was a little too westerly to take them close to the high ridge. They were driven past the land that lay to the northwest of the ridge, and down among islands and reefs. At no time since the storm broke had they been in more imminent peril. The gale was so strong, the waves so high, they could no longer steer their little craft. They were carried close to reefs and islands, missing by a few feet or even inches being cast upon the rocks. Yet they found no place where, with a sudden twist of the paddle, they might shoot through into shelter.

The thundering of breakers sounded straight ahead. Through the rain and sleet, land appeared suddenly. Powerless to escape it, they had just time to lift their paddles from the water, when the surf caught the canoe and flung it on the beach. Instantly they were over the side, struggling for a foothold on the slippery pebbles, as the receding wave tried to drag them back. Grasping the bars of the canoe, they managed to scramble up the narrow beach with it, but before they could bear it to safety, another wave caught them and flung them forward on their faces. Jean lost his hold. But Etienne and Ronald clung to it, and, resisting the pull of the water, managed to drag the boat forward into a thicket above the reach of the waves.

The three were safe, though somewhat bruised and battered, but the canoe was split and shattered by its rough handling, and, what was worse, everything it had contained had been thrown out into the water. Scarcely waiting to get their breaths, the castaways set about rescuing what they could. By running down the narrow, slanting beach and plunging into the water between waves, they managed to save the gun and one bow. In a desperate attempt to rescue the package of food, Jean was caught by a wave and might have been drowned, if Ronald had not seized him in time and dragged him back. The bark-covered package was carried out to deep water and disappeared. One of the blankets and the roll of apakwas were flung high on shore, and caught in a stunted bush that ordinarily would have been well above water line. Fortunately the three always carried their light axes, their knives, fishing tackle and other little things on their persons, so those were saved also. Everything else, including the other blanket, the caribou hide, and the cedar cord net, was lost.

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 the driving rain and sleet, but all three were soaking wet and bitterly chilled. They had to have shelter and warmth. Fortunately the roll of apakwas had been saved. Poles were set up, and Nangotook and Jean, beginning at the bottom, wrapped the apakwas around the framework, each strip overlapping the one below, so that the water could not run down between. More poles and branches were tied with withes over the bark covering to hold it in place.

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

A miserable night they spent in that rude shelter, huddled together on damp evergreen branches, under their one remaining blanket, which they had dried before the fire. Surf lashed the beach, and the wind roared in the tree tops, that swayed and clashed together, the trunks creaking as if they must snap off and be hurled down on the wigwam. Sleet and frozen snow rattled on the bark covering. It was lucky indeed for the treasure-seekers that they had been cast ashore before the storm reached its height. Long before nightfall it had grown so violent that there was not one chance in a thousand for a canoe to live through it.