Terins, Five Dollars a Year. | 

 Ten Cents a Copy. f 



NEW YORK, THURSDAY, JAN. 29, 1874. 



j Volume I, Number 25. 

 1 103 Fulton Street. 



For Forest and Stream . 

 A FORECASTLE YARN. 



BY MARTINGALE BOBSTAY. 



IT is of the good yacht "Nonesuch" 

 I'm going for to tell, 

 And the peculiar circumstance 

 That unto her befeli: 

 : Twas about a dozen years ago, 

 Or mayhap a trifle more, 

 That craft swung to her anchor, 

 Off the Staten Island shore. 



Her owner was Dick Flasher. 



Of a social habit stock, 



One of the old three bottle men, 



A ''chip of the old block; 1 ' 



A good bit willful, in his way, 



Ah! wouldn't he carry sail! 



When. 'twas greasy up to windward, 



And blowing half a gale. 



The season for the races 

 Had started up the gents, 

 And daily the excitement 

 Was a getting more intense; 

 For every jaunty skipper 

 Had his touching up to do, 

 To be ship-shape, and a taunto, 

 For the day of rondy-voo. 



Well, the Nonesuch was aa rakish 



As a Yankee privateer; 



A gently swelling water line, 



Clean run, and easy sheer. 



Her masts were tall and taper; 



Her cable had a spring, 



And she sat just like a sea-bird, 



All ready to take wing. 



'Twas a pleasant summer evening, 



In the balmy month of June, 



When all the bay was dancing 



In the glimmer of the moon; 



The owner had a jolly crowd 



Of friends aboard that night, 



And the champagne corks were poppin 1 , 



While the boys were getting tight. 



'Twas then that Flasher struck his fist 

 Upon the capstan head, 

 Swaying about upon his pins, 

 As "eight bells" struck he said: 

 That by the 'Flying Dutchman," 

 He was bound the cup to win; 

 Or, once ouUide of Sandy Hook, 

 He never would come in. 



Well, sir, if you'll believe me, 

 When the spurt came cff next day, 

 One schooner was a missing 

 That started down the bay; 

 The wind was from the southward. 

 And the fog rolled in from sea, 

 And everybody wondered 

 Where the Flasher boat could be. 



With spy-glass at the Highlands, 

 Dick's friends did watch for him, 

 Until they all did specify 

 That he had "doused his glim;" 

 And when the wind was piping, 

 Or the weather growing thick, 

 They drank unto bis memory, 

 In "Green-seal" bought on tick. 



At last arrived a fishing-smack, 

 One of the down East sort, 

 Whose captain said he met a yacht, 

 That asked him to report; 

 Her name it was the Nonesuch, 

 She was crowding on all sail, 

 Chasing another clipper, 

 That was scudding with the gale. 



The sails were torn and dingy, 



That once were white and new, 



The taper masts were badly sprung, 



The sheer was not so true; 



Her gray-haired crew in tattered rig, 



Looked wistfully ahead, 



And the champagne corks were poppin', 



As the stranger onward sped. 



You see, the "Flying Dutchman" 

 Had chanced to come ashore, 

 And noted in his log-book, 

 The oath that Flasher swore. 

 So ever since, in gale and fog. 

 The race goes round about; 

 But Dick Is bound to win it, 

 If the liquor don't gist out.'''' 



jammer ^parts h\ (^mndu. 



— ♦ — : — 



Peche a Malcolm — on the north st. anns. 



N my return from Belle Truite I paid Charlo in full 

 and made arrangements with him by which he was 

 to hold himself in readiness to accompany me to Peche a 

 Malcolm, on the North St. Anns, a trip I had long contem- 

 plated, while I went into Quebec to replenish my sadly de- 

 pleted stock of flies and tackle. 



On my return I mef Mr. Charlo staggering along the road 

 most gloriously drunk. He had taken advantage of my 

 absence and wended his way to the settlement and there 

 exchanged his earnings for David's high wines. To all my 

 abuse, he only replied with a drunken laugh, snapping his 

 fingers and attempting to perform a pirouette, which, to 

 my no small delight, landed him in the ditch beside the 

 road, on his back, where I should have allowed him to re- 

 main had not Charley Wolff, through a sympathetic feeling 

 perhaps, helped him out and bundled him, head foremost, 

 into the cart. 



These Indians are unreliable dogs when within five miles 

 of whisky, though trustworthy enough in the bush and 

 good guides and camp men. 



The sportsman visiting this region for the first time, un- 

 less ambitious of penetrating far into the wilderness, would 

 do well to procure the services, as guides, of some of the 

 old settlers, many of whom are familiar with the good 

 hunting and fishing grounds in the closer proximity of the 

 settlements. George Neil, of Valcartier, is considered by 

 the many Quebec gentlemen who employ him to be the 

 prince of hunters and good fellows, and the fact remains 

 unchallenged. His charges are, I believe, one dollar per 

 diem and board. 



For distant journeys, an Indian guide is indispensible, 

 owing to their superior knowledge of woodcraft and the in- 

 terior of the country. The sportsman, in the latter instance, 

 must come prepared to do battle with those pests of the 

 wilderness— the black flies, and to suffer some of the priva- 

 tions that the limited amount of baggage which himself 

 and guides can carry over the mountains, will entail. His 

 initiation may prove a severe one, but he will never regret 

 it. The beauties that will be opened up to him at every 

 step, and the sport he will enjoy, either with his rifle or 

 rod, as chance or fancy may dictate, will prove an ample 

 recompense. I am not an enthusiast myself over hunting, 

 though let me add, I have witnessed, and at times enjoyed 

 good sport with both rifle and shot gun. If little is said in 

 these articles about it, it is not on account of any scarcity 

 of game, but the inclination to pursue it. I am at all times 

 more at home with a fly rod in my hands than with rifle or 

 gun, though I never go into the bush without one or the 

 other. 



For the benefit of the hunter I will here give a short 

 resume of the game most to be met with. First in order 

 comes the moose, cariboo, lynx, and bear, and then follows 

 the small fur-bearing animals, such as the fox, beaver, 

 otter, fisher, and mink. Wild fowl and partridges fill up 

 the list. 



I made up the packs in the evening in the bark corseau, 

 the most convenient for carrying during the warm weather, 

 when a blanket pack would act very much like a blister. 

 It is constructed from a large sheet of balsam bark, doubled 

 in two and sewed up at the sides, a couple of hoops like 

 those of a barrel are then fastened inside to keep it distend- 

 ed, and it is complete on the addition of a pack strap, 

 which, when ready for carrying, is placed across the chest 

 and shoulders, the corseau resting on the back. If properly 

 made, it is waterproof, and fish are more easily transported 

 in them when salted for keeping. 



Before dawn I was down at Mr. Neilson's and found 

 Charlo sober after his night's rest. We crossed the river 

 on the flat, and at sunrise we halted at the falls on the river 

 Aux Pins, and on a large rock lighted our fire and prepared 

 the morning meal. This little river literally teems with 

 trout, and I have known one rod to take out in a few hours 



ten dozen, though few would exceed a half a pound in 

 weight. At its entrance into Lake St. Joseph, good bass 

 fishing can be had by trolling. Near us are the vestiges of 

 a settlement, attempted years ago, though abandoned on 

 the death of the founder and the consequent giving out of 

 the means necessary to carry it to a successful completion. 

 Our road is along the river until we reach the lakes of the 

 same name, five in number. We skirt the first two and 

 then strike over the mountains to the west. Near the junc- 

 tion of the St. Anns and Tuillerie Rivers, we crossed the 

 latter by wading through its rapid current. The river was 

 high, and when I reached the middle of the channel the 

 force of the waters almost swept me from my feet, and I 

 deemed it politic to remain quiet until helped out of the 

 predicament by Charlo's coming to my assistance. Here 

 it was that I met with the first evidence of those fearful 

 hurricanes that sometimes sweep through the gorges of the 

 mountains, levelling everything before them.. They are 

 termed wind-falls. This one was some two acres in width 

 and miles in length. Such had been the force of the storm 

 that not a twig was left standing. Mighty monarchs were 

 lying uprooted and so snarled among the others that a way 

 was with difficulty forced through it. The Indian takes 

 advantage of it to set his snare for the unsuspecting cariboo 

 or moose that attempts to cross it. At irregular distances a 

 sort of road is cut or cleared through it, and in the centre, 

 carefully concealed from view, is spread out the fatal noose 

 elevated about a foot above the ground. It is then fully 

 secured to a sapling which is bent over some projecting 

 tree. The deer gets his foot into the noose, and disturbing 

 the spring, it jumps up firmly, fastening the noose about the 

 leg. All its frantic efforts to free itself are unavailing, and 

 the rifle of the Indian puts an end to its existence. 

 Numbers are in this way taken every season. 



We camped this night on a little hard wood knoll above 

 the river. I shot a number of partridge, and these served 

 up a la sauvage, are a dainty tit bit. With a dog to rise 

 them, a very handsome bag might be made with a gun in a 

 few hours. Sometime after dark I was startled by what 

 I at first thought was a human voice some distance shouting 

 "he ! he !" 



"Charlo," I said, "there is some one calling." 



He smiled, and asked me if I had forgotten our old 

 friends, the loons. 



I comprehended it all now in a moment. There is 

 scarcely a lake of any size that is not inhabited by a pair of 

 these singular birds. The cry we heard was from a loon 

 on Grande Lac, fully a mile and a half from where we were 

 camped. 



We journeyed up the river next day, alternately in the 

 water and along the bank, as the exigencies of the case re- 

 quired. In the afternoon we reached the Pcehe a Malcolm. 

 Long before we arrived I saw the frowning mountain, la 

 Bee de la Perdrix, that stands sentinel over the pool. It 

 rises itself six or seven hundred feet perpendicularly from 

 the river which flows deep and silently at its base; on the 

 east side the river widens and forms a pool several acres in 

 extent. A hard gravelty bottom with numerous cold springs 

 gushing from the banks and the opposite cliff forms the 

 Peche a Malcolm. It derives its name from a Mr. Malcolm, 

 who fished this pool, and in a week's sport took out several 

 hundred trout, running from one and a half pounds to five. 

 They smoked their fish and constructed themselves a dug 

 out, and awaiting a favorable rise in the river, which takes 

 place rapidly after a rain, floated down to St, Raimond with 

 their booty. One pai^ only has visited it since; my old 

 companion, Mr. Neilson, and Charlo, and the success of 

 that trip told in my old friend's graphic style, inspired me 

 to the present undertaking. 



We constructed our bark cabin on the site of the old one,and 

 having put together a raft, I spliced my rod in the evening 

 and selected my most tempting flies to be fully prepared 

 for the struggle with the mighty denizens of the pool. 

 At dawn I shoved off on the raft above the pool, and drift- 

 ing down a short distance, anchored. The first cast is over 

 an old sunken log, the fly hovers over it for an instant and 

 lightly touches the water. A moment more and it is seised 



