FOKEST AND STREAM 
17 
i » v 8 
Along The Shores to Somewhere Else 
By Alfred P. McArthur. 
Photos by ithe Auitlhor. 
DOZEN days gleaned during 
the charm of Indian summer. 
Only twelve days; but what 
bunches of gratification, enjoy¬ 
ment and comfort can be leis¬ 
urely crowded into them, if 
your faith in the Red Gods is 
devout and your spirit zealous 
to go out, to do and to see things. 
Frequently during the week, had I fretfully 
turned from my desk, to the office window, and 
gazed out over the city’s roof, to the blue and the 
purple haze of the beyond and—Somewhere 
Else. A nomadic temper possessed me, I was 
restless, absent minded to business surroundings 
and fanciful. 1 yearned for the beyond and the 
untrammeled freedom of the open. I was crav¬ 
ing for— 
“The long trail, the old trail, the trail that is 
always new.” The feathered creatures of the 
air, on beating pinions, singly, in flocks and in 
column formation were going. The migration 
was on, and I longed to join the flights. 
The suggestion of this trip was proposed in 
jest. On the impulse of the moment it was 
agreed upon. The camp-chest and duffle-bags 
taken from their respective niches, and with the 
old sixteen-foot canvas canoe, tagged and made 
ready for the depot. 
With pleasure, the next morning, we procure a 
supply of fresh ammunition and photograph 
films and secure good seats in the —“Smoker”— 
and are carried across the miles of gleaming 
rails to New York City. In fact, within eigh¬ 
teen hours from the first hint of the proposition, 
the good ship P-, with our expedition on 
board, is breasting the waters of the Narrows. 
A raw, rain laden easterly wind greets us from 
the old Atlantic as we steam adown the Lower 
Bay. Our fellow-passengers of the upper har¬ 
bor have vanished; 'but we with our chairs in 
the lee of the upper-deck house and beneath the 
shelter of the canvas awnings, are alone on the 
deck, watching the rain, the white capped waters 
of the Bay, the shore lines and ships going by. 
After dinner, you could have found us in the 
same chairs, as with pipes aglow and sparks fly¬ 
ing, we watch the lights winking at us from the 
Jersey shore, as our vessel, rolling slightly, 
drives through a moderate sea, down the Atlan¬ 
tic coast. 
A night of undisturbed slumber, lulled to rest 
by the rhythmic throb of the engines below and 
the swash and beat of the waters oversides. 
Awakened to the same symphony, fresh as larks 
to greet, out on deck, a clear fresh morning, the 
sun’s first peep above the horizon and the tall, 
white tower of the light-house of Cape Charles, 
plainly discernible througfi our glasses over the 
starboard-bow. 
Breakfast, with the mellow sunlight pouring 
through the porLholes of the Saloon; after 
which the water-proof bag, open in the Social 
Hall greets us to receive its contributions of 
newspapers and magazines for the crew of the 
Light-ship, a red staunch vessel, tugging at her 
heavy andhor chains, as she tosses and pitches 
on the swells, a few miles ahead. The broad 
expanse of Chesapeake Bay with its guardian 
capes Charles and Henry, Hampton Rhoads, 
with old Fortress Monroe basking in the sun¬ 
shine, Old Point Comfort and the disembarking 
at Government Wharf of part of our passen¬ 
gers ; then on again, crossing the mouth of the 
James to Elizabeth River and Norfolk—our 
point of departure. 
We’re done with the city and toil, 
Away with your linen and tie. 
We’re done with the things, where coin on 
change rings—• 
Our roof is the broad open sky. 
Get into your old flannel shirt, 
And com’fy old headgear of felt. 
With axe, gun and rod, we’ll live on the sod— 
The same as our patriarchs dwelt. 
Less than five dollars procures our provisions 
over in the town. Out on the pier the camp- 
chest is packed. This chest is indispensable, as 
into its secret in ’ards go fractional quantities of 
all our provisions to be got at, on the instant, at 
meal times, besides containing the cooking-outfit, 
folding reflector baker, etc.; but I anticipate, 
come along with us this cruise and see for your¬ 
self. 
The freight office makes a dandy dressing- 
room where conventional dress is discarded for 
real raiment. Woolen bathing suits become our 
underwear and with flannel shirts, woolen trow- 
sers, woolen socks, light-weight tennis shoes and 
old felt hats, our get-up is complete. 
The two one-quart thermos bottles are filled 
with cold water from the companies’ cooler. The 
Steamship management tender us every courtesy, 
and direct us to a low flat lighter in the slip 
where we can embark, and stand-by to help, 
and to see us off. 
Before launching the canoe, she is turned on 
her nose and examined and into all suspicious 
spots is rubbed a small quantity of pure white 
lead ground in oil. This canoe never leaks, we 
won’t let her. 
Our outfit looks some bulky as it lays scat¬ 
tered over the lighter and causes the remark 
from one of our standing-by friends—“How are 
you-all fellows goin’ t’ a get all this y’re stuff in 
that little thing?”— 
After launching, the largest water-proof bag 
containing the tent and sleeping-bags is stowed 
under the forward brace and bow-seat, the chest 
comes next behind, then the bags containing the 
reserve grub—(the smallest, but heaviest of all) 
stows athwart the bottom abaft the chest. The 
two bags containing our personal outfits and 
spare clothing, find snug lodging in the tumble- 
home of the waist at each side of the chest, the 
thermos bottle case wedges firmly in the bow, 
the extra paddle with three piece mast (arid 
also tent pole), with sail goes along the star¬ 
board run forward, the fishing poles likewise on 
the port side, the combination rifle and shot¬ 
gun in its case, is secured on the top of the 
chest and ready for instant use, while the ever 
ready camera goes into its water-proof pocket 
on the after brace and the canvas water pan¬ 
nier, with our extra supply of fresh water goes 
under the after seat. See how it’s done! 
The crew, with paddles in hand, follow the 
outfit and stow themselves respectively, bow and 
