March 19, 1904.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
of whom' we bought some milk for our light lunch, and 
one or two of the inhabitants of Belleville, were the 
only members of our own species that we so much as 
caught a glimpse of all day long. 
At the latter place there were two dams, at the first 
of which we saw the appropriateness of the name. We 
were obliged to force our way up a steep bank covered 
with high weeds and underbrush, sweating and groan- 
ing most fearfully under the burden of our canoe and 
equipment; then for rods along the shore through the 
same kind of stuff until we came to a spot where we 
could take to the water again. The place was full of 
nettles, thistles and sharp sticks, and as we happened to 
be doing business barefoot to dry our shoes, we were 
brought to the verge of strong language more than once. 
Some miles past Belleville we camped for the night, 
making everything snug and getting our supper ready 
with an ease and rapidity that astonished us. We then 
sat down by our camp-fire, and smoked, and watched 
the stars and. the fire, and were perfectly happy. Our 
evenings in camps we shall never forget. We had been 
inconsiderate enough to locate near the foot of a big 
tree which happened to be the private property of a 
squirrel. Naturally enough he was Up in its branches 
when we planted ourselves at the foot, and his annoy- 
ance can be only faintly imagined. Indisposed to come 
down and discuss the matter quietly, he stormed and 
chattered away until he must have been on the verge 
of apoplexy, and without the satisfaction ^ of even 
knowing that we paid any attention to him. We sympa- 
thized with him, but stayed. 
The next morning we had had breakfast, had broken 
camp, and were on our way before 5 o'clock, for our 
last day on the river. We went down steadily, hour 
after hour, through the entrancing scenery of the little 
stream, with the " silence broken only by the regular 
drip of the paddles and the noises of the various birds 
and animals along the banks, each intent exclusively 
upon his own affairs. There can be few better ways 
of seeing nature doing business in her own way than 
this one. 
At length we passed Rockwood, persuading our canoe 
with some difficulty to consent to be carried around 
the dam instead of going over it, as she seemed to 
prefer, and before long had passed out of the almost 
continuous belt of trees which had lined the banks all 
the way down. After that we came to the open 
, meadows and marshland, which indicated that we were 
nearing Lake Erie. If I have not made any references 
to the unbelievable sinuousness of the Huron, it is 
Ijecause I have felt myself unequal to the task. Bill 
Nye tells somewhere how he was on one occasion gored 
by a bull with the result that his insides all came out- 
doors, and no matter how the doctors packed them 
in again, they always had a yard or so left over that 
there was no room for. I think any finite creature try- 
ing to pack the whole length of the Huron River into 
the number of miles it makes in a straight line, would 
have much the same experience. It frequently hap- 
pened that twenty minutes or more of paddling would 
bring us to within a few hundred feet of where we had 
been before, and while the distance from Ypsilantj to 
Lake Erie is only about twenty-five miles in a straight 
line, it is probably not far from 125 miles by water. 
We had by this time pretty well outlined our itmer- 
ary, which was, in a word, to run up the lake system 
into Lake Huron, taking side trips up any rivers that 
might strike our fancy as we went along. With this 
attractive prospect before us, and finding no interest 
in the flat marshes along the river, we were in a hurry 
to reach the lake. The river was not, however, and 
with the current dwindled to almost nothing, kept us 
paddling back and forth in those villainously hot 
rushes, for miles. The LLD. with a foolish and ill- 
considered optimism, kept making matters worse by 
positively announcing the lake at the next turn, for the 
last five miles, and every tree visible here and there 
in the rushes was, according to him, manifestly upon 
its shore. On the strength of each of these announce- 
ments, we would hit up our gait in order to "finish in 
style," and the business got very wearing. _ At last, 
about 1 :30, we got there in a very much wilted con- 
dition, and our first glimpse of the cool, blue waters 
of Lake Erie made us feel that we could understand 
better than ever before the delight that must have in- 
spired the war-worn followers of Xenophon when they 
raised their shout of "The Sea!" 
There is a peculiar fascination about a great body 
of water, moreover, that a little river, no matter how 
pretty, does not possess. Somehow it would seem pre- 
sumptuous to think of getting tired of it. We prompt- 
ly hoisted our sail, and made for Tawas Island, which 
is situated just below the mouth of the Detroit River, 
reclining restfully in the bottom of the boat, and re- 
viving rapidly under the influence of the cool lake 
breeze. After a brief and very enjoyable sail, we 
stopped for lunch, for which there was no lack of ap- 
petite, as we had had- nothing to eat since before 5 
o'clock. Before we did anything else, however, as our 
clothes were still wringing wet from our paddling on 
the Huron, we went in for a swim and gave them a 
little soak; then while they were drying, proceeded in 
the most startling negligee to eat our lunch. This was 
a mistake, because the call to dinner, meant for our- 
selves, was apparently considered general by hordes of 
shameless mosquitoes, who promptly swooped down 
upon us, utterly oblivious of the fact that we were not 
dressed to receive them. We finally came to the con- 
clusion that it did not pay to take in the raw material 
and dispense equally large quantities of the refined 
product, so packed up, put on our wet clothes and 
went on. 
We paddled over betweeh Hickory Island, with its 
magnificent trees and picturesque summer cottages on 
one side, and Sugar Island with its crowd of merry 
picnickers on the other. At these latter, we cast a 
few longing glances, but, alas! our costumes and gen- 
eral appearance did not warrant any intrusion. There 
was no good place to camp in the vicinity, and we de- 
termined to make Stony Island, barely visible in the 
hazy distance. A stiflE paddle against the current finally 
brought us there, but then we could find no place to 
pitch our tent that was in any way inhabitable. The 
shore, instead of being a real shore, is a hybrid mixture 
of stones, water, reeds and mud, and the mosquitoes re- 
minded us of those prehistoic monsters whose skeletons 
we see in the museums. By the time we had quit fool- 
ing around the place it was already dark, and as we 
had been paddling almost without a stop since 5 o'clock 
in the morning, and had covered between fifty and 
sixty miles already, we felt little enthusiasm for more 
work. Wyandotte was the only place to make for and 
that would necessitate another hour or so of hard plug- 
ging against the current, but there was no help for it, so 
we went ahead. 
To make a long story short, we eventually got there, 
bat we were pretty near "all in." We went to the 
Michigan Alkali Club boat house, after we had found 
it, with the request that we might leave our boat oyer 
night, and were most courteously received. In getting 
the boat out of the water, however, I passed through 
an experience which I cannot recall to this day without 
emotion. I was standing down on a single wet plank 
about on the level with the water, and being rendered 
careless of all else by emptiness and fatigue, behold 
my feet slipped off the plank and I fell into the dark, 
cold stream. I had always wondered if I could swim 
with all my clothes on; I found out (a) that I can, but 
(b) that I hate to. The LLD. promptly abandoned 
the canoe to the tender mercies of the night in order 
to wait until I returned to the dock and then grab me 
in such a way that I could not possibly climb up. When 
I did crawl out, the canoe had vanished, and con- 
sidering everything, I was seriously annoyed. With 
the help of a borrowed canoe we found ours and got it 
hack, a mixed crowd of young people illuminating the 
scene with fireworks from an upper balcony, and ap- 
parently enjoying it. 
[to be continued.] 
The Indra Log. 
The Stoty of a Cruiss from Marblehead, Mass., 
to Sydney, N. B. 
BY HENRY G. PICKERING, BOSTON, MASS. 
(Continued from p^ge 217 ) 
Wednesday, the 15th, we are still at anchor; the day's 
proceeding varied by a foraging trip ashore; eggs and 
wild strawberries to eke out the larder. In the evening 
the men go ashore to church, a good habit to be en- 
couraged whenever possible. The night is not quite 
so good for sleeping, the yacht pitching and rolling 
more, especially at change of tide. 
With the morning comes a welcome breeze from the 
southwest, strong and favoring; we change our clocks 
to Dominion time, and at 11:15 leave the can buoy off 
the southeast point of the island, -shaping our course 
for the Grand Passage, Bryer Island. The tide is 
against us and very strong, but the breeze holds and 
strengthens and we make anchorage off Westport, Bryer 
Island, at 4:20. The half point allowance for the tide 
in the twent-six mile run has proved too small, as our 
going shows. At 5:10 in the morning, we face the great 
tide-rip in the Passage, distinct in our memories from 
last year's cruise. The tide here runs from five to six 
knots an hour, the mere pressure against a spindle, set 
about midway of the Passage, being enough to throw 
the water eighteen inches in the air. We pass it suc- 
cessfully, of course, with loss of headway, but the yacht 
behaves admirably in the heavy cross sea, and in twenty 
miutes or thereabouts we are well through it. A long 
day's sail is before us with long and short tacks, and 
varying winds, very light at the end of the day, and we 
pick up the whistling buoy off Yarmouth Harbor, work 
up the rather tortuous passage, and drop anchor at 
6:30 in approximately our berth of last year. The fog 
sets in before bed-time and continues through the night. 
Why is it that the very wind you want comes when you 
cannot leave port? It is so to-day; the larder must be 
restocked and sundry and various matters call us 
ashore, and it is 5 in the afternoon before we start in 
tow of a tug for the lower anchorage. Now mark what 
■happens! The tow line, not being properly made fast, 
ilips its bearings ant] carries away tht liggd Qf 
forward hatch. Back we go to our anchorage, and 
send ashore for a carpenter, who fails, however, to re- 
spond, and we must wait over to-morrow for repairs. 
A quite unnecessary accident and most annoying delay! 
Sunday, the 19th, southeast wind and rain; quite as 
well that we did not make the lower anchorage as pro- 
posed, and lie in the teeth of it! Our mate, or sailing 
master, by courtesy so-called — the owner handles and 
sails his own boat — leaves us on the issue of responsi- 
bility for the accident of the day before, and we must 
replace him with a new hand forward before starting. 
The next day is a gala one for our small company. 
The Captain's birthday, and it is duly celebrated at 
dinner with toasts and much good fellowship, and the 
presentation of such modest gifts as local markets 
afford. A jug for the "wee bit drappie" and sundry ac- 
companiments thereto. 
"Who wakes us at the break of morn, 
And balmy slumber laughs to scorn, 
Till sleep 13 fled from eyes forlorn? 
The Captain. 
"Who steers the Indra hard to lee, 
As staunch a ship as sails the sea, 
From keelson up to maincrosstree? 
The Captain. 
And much more to the same effect, somewhat to the 
confusion of our host, but happily responded to and 
with mutual fun-making and enjoyment all round. How 
the great, broad s'ea, and a common experience of its 
delights and dangers opens the sympalhles and draws 
closer the bonds of a wholesome and hearty compan- 
ionship! Commend me to it always for the makings of 
unselfishness, good humor, and kindly offices one to 
another. All this we offset against the weather, now 
"more unkind than man's ingratitude." Then, too, we 
have visits from friends of the yacht club, and our mail 
from Halifax, forwarded as by telegram of the day be- 
fore—so we are not comfortless. The new mate, Mr. 
S., arrives on board, engaged through the kind efforts 
of Commodore L., of the yacht Squadron; but his stay 
is doubtful, as he awaits possible orders for a South 
American cruise. Two days of more orTess weather, 
as you choose to look at it, and a further chance for 
Mark Tapley and Job! East wind and rain. Mr. S. 
gets big anticipat^a feillet a§ master of a gliip, bound 
for Buenos Ayres, and leaves the yacht. In his stead 
we ship G., a Yarmouth fisherman, well recommended 
and with good knowledge of the coast, and Sunday, the 
26th, started eastward at 9 A. M.; but after making 
three or four miles toward Chebogue, the fog sets in 
thick, the wind falls, and we return to anchor at the 
bar by the Inner light. Three fishermen are anchored 
near by, waiting, like us, for a chance to clear. The 
barometer is falling, and next day it is a northwesterly 
gale. We are glad to be in harbor and stay there. 
Tuesday, July 28, a fine morning with strong breeze 
from the northwest, and we get under way at 8:40 
after our ten days' imprisonment, with two reefs in the 
mainsail, topsail and jib set, all drawing well, and make 
Schooner Passage at 10 o'clock and Barrington Pas- 
sage about I. This route inside of Cape Sable Island 
saves a considerable distance and eliminates the un- 
certainties of the Cape. Once through this we shake out 
our reefs, set topsail and staysail, have a good run past 
Baccaro, the Salvages and Cape Negro to Cape Rose- 
way, and make the entrance to Shelburne Harbor at 
4:30 P. M., anchoring about a mile south of Adamant 
Shoal, under the west shore. We have had a fine day's 
run of seventy miles, in ten hours; and the yacht has 
shown herself a good sea boat, taking in almost no 
water even in the roughest tide-rips. Of tides the At- 
lantic Coast sailor has no conception until he has tried 
the west and south coasts of Nova Scotia. The ebb 
flows westward through the narrow passages with ex- 
traordinary force and speed, forming difficult cross- 
seas, and necessitating liberal allowance in the com- 
pass for a run of any considerable length. Even on the 
open coast, without a fair wind, you are actually run- 
ning astern against a two-knot tide such as you will 
find all the way from Digby to Yarmouth. 
More fine weather now, and we think we deserve it. 
A beautiful morning July 29, clear with favoring, though 
light wind from the southwest. We leave our anchor- 
age at 7:50, without having entered the inner harbor, 
one of the finest on the Atlantic Coast, for we are far 
behind our schedule and must be moving eastward. 
The eoast here is low, but of decided beauty and in- 
terest, with rolling meadow, upland and long stretches 
of hard, white sand beach. Liverpool, at 3 P. M., and 
our first appointed stopping place for fishing. Here 
is the Port Medway River, where we are beneficiaries 
of right§ owoed by our friendj Dr, W,, of 1q§|9|^j Wf 
