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[JULY 20, 1907. 




AMAZON CAIMAN, 
An Adventure on the River. 
the Ke- 
Cana- 
Last summer, in the clubhouse of 
noutchewan Bait-fishers, a well-known 
dian lawyer told the following story: 
“Some years ago while out for an after- 
noon’s fishing with my son Harry, who was 
then ten years old, I anchored our skiff off the 
northeast ‘or lower end of Gomeguk Island, 
where one division of the St. Lawrence runs 
into a deep groove, much frequented by chan- 
nel catfish. 
“Steamers seldom pass through the channel 
where we floated, though the wash of upward- 
bound boats disturbs the surface slightly as 
they swing half around, about three hundred 
yards down the river, to enter the southern 
and straighter, though slower, channel, which 
most pilots prefer. 
“Harry found the occasional rocking by 
steamboat waves a pleasant variation from the 
scarcely perceptible motion with which we 
drifted—only one of our  fifty-six-pound 
weights being out as bow anchor—against the 
gentle current. under the pressure of a breeze 
upstream. The sharp stern of the skiff floated 
free, and riding with forty feet of line out, 
she swayed from side to side of the deep 
water, which never me with better 

furnished 
sport than on that day. 
“The big fish took my minnows eagerly, and 
fought in a highly satisfactory manner. So it 
went on till Harry, who had come out with 
emphatic asseverations that he would gladly 
fish till. midnight, disclosed a keener enthusi- 
asm for something to eat, and often inquired 
when I-intended going home. I lingered, how- 
ever, for ‘just one more bite,—taking four fish 
by the delay,—till the sun set. Then glancing 
at Harry while stooping to impale a new min- 
now, his woe-begone little face gave me a 
more distinct thrill of compunction, and, fling- 
ing-away the bait, I said: “Well, small boys 
mustn’t be made too hungry, I suppose. We 
will go home now, Harry.’ I was rather aston- 
ished that his face, which had brightened with 
my words, suddenly clouded, as he looked down 
the river. Then the explanation came. 
“Oh, there’s another steamboat coming up, 
father!’ he cried. ‘Do stay a little longer! I 
wish you would stay till we get her swell.’ 
“Tt was to me a striking illustration of how 
curiously amd wonderfully boys are made. 
Here was a lad too hungry to enjoy fishing, 
but not hungry enough to forego the delight 
of being rocked *by half a dozen steamboat 
rollers! However, his request coincided with 
my inclination, and, putting on new bait, I re- 
sumed fishing. I sat in the bow, with my face 
upstream, Harry watching with big eyes the 



HEAD OF FLORIDA CROCODILE, 
oncoming steamer, the intermittent rumble of 
whose paddle-wheel became momentarily 
more distinct, till the slap and thrust of each 
float could be heard close behind. Suddenly 
Harry jumped up and exclaimed: 
“Why, father, look at that steamboat!’ 
“T turned to see in the twilight the big, 
white Theban, not three hundred yards dis- 
tant, not swinging into the south channel, but 
coming, at about half speed, straight at where 
we lay! Dazed, I sat silent a moment; then 
roared at her, ‘Ahoy, Theban, ahoy!’ with all 
my power of lung, searching my pockets at 
the same time for my clasp-knife to cut the 
anchor rope. There was no time to haul in 
the weight; to cut away was the only chance 
of escape. 
“Harry’s childish treble shrieked through my 
hoarse shouts, but there was no sign that we 
were seen or heard. Yet it was impossible to 
believe the pilot to be unaware of the boat in 
his course, lead colored though it was, and 
deep as were the shadows of the island. The 
swamping of our skiff was certain now, even 
should she sheer off in passing. 
“T had passed the anchor line through the 
painter ring and secured it to the seat. This 
fastening I tore away with one jerk, but there 
were fifty feet more rope in the coil lying at 
my feet. To run-that out through the ring 
would require more time than we had, 
“T went through all: my pockets for my 
knife, till it flashed on me that, some time be- 
fore, it had dropped from the gunwale, in 
which I had stuck it, and was now lying out 
of reach under the footboard. Harry began to 
ery loudly, ‘Oh, what will mother do?’ 
“Raising my eyes from a vain endeavor to 
get a glimpse of my knife, I could clearly see 
the red paint of her run gleaming in the water 
abogt her. I seized an oar, and, kneeling on 
the bow, knocked the staple that secured the 
ring clear away and flung the coil of rope into 
the water. The bowsprit of the Theban was 
not five seconds away then. I struggfed to get 
headway, hoping to escape the paddle-wheels, 
but my boy, wild with fear, impeded me by 
clinging about my legs. Using all my force 
on the oar as a paddle, I did, however, manage 
to give her a slight motion upstream, stern 
first, but the next moment the figurehead and 
bow of the Theban blotted out the sky, and 
she was upon us. Not with her cut-water, 
fortunately, or we should have been instantly 
smashed down; it ran out twenty feet beyond 
before we were touched. Had she not been 
half slowed down to take the windings of the 
channel we should doubtless have been over- 
whelmed by her bow wave; but somehow the 
skiff rode this, and the next moment was 
crowded so hard against the steamer where 
she widened that we moved on as if glued to 
her side. 
“To leap far enough out to escape from the 
paddle-wheel was impossible.’ I had clasped 
Harry in my arms with some unreasonable 1m- 
agination that my body might save him from 
the crushing blows of the floats when my 
glance fell on the fifty-six-pound weight that 
still lay in the boat. I stooped, seized the 
weight with my right hand, and, with my lit- 
tle boy close -hugged, leaped desperately from 
the boat into the water. 
“The sensation of being sucked or trailed 
through an amazing current, the roar of wa- 
ter, the overpowering fear of the paddles,— 
how well I remember! Suddenly—it was as 
though a wave had flung its mass at me—my 
legs were swept down with the water driven 
from the impact of the floats, my hold was 
nearly jerked from the weight I ‘held, then 
down, down, until the weight touched the bot- 
tom. I let go and rose through twenty feet of 
water with a gasp, to see the Theban roaring 
away steadily on her course. 
“Poor little Harry had never ceased strug- 
gling; he struggled more violently as now he 
caught a half-choked breath. I tore his arms 
from my neck as we began to sink again, and 
turned his back to me. We rose again, tread- 
ing water. I managed to support his head out 
of the water long enough to make him under- 
stand that he must bécome perfectly motion- 
less if he wished me to save him. 
“He behaved splendidly after that, but by 
several slight immersions had lost his senses in 
a half-drowned faint before I managed to get 
ashore. I had, however, no great difficulty in 
restoring him. Fortunately, there was a house 
on the island, and there we spent the night. 
“You may be sure that I lost no time in in- 
vestigating the conduct of the Theban’s pilot. 
The man denied all knowledge of the occur- 
rence, and. I could see that he was really sur- 
prised and shocked; but that he felt in some 
degree guilty I could also perceive. Not one 
of the deckhands and none of the officers 
would confess any knowledge in the matter, 
and not till the cross-examination of the crew 
on my suit for damages against the steamboat 
company did the truth come out. Then a clean 
breast was made. The pilot had secretly 
brought a jug of whisky aboard, and, while the 
captain was below at his tea, the mate and the 
whole watch, defying all the rules of the com- 
pany’s service, had taken occasion to finish the 
liquor. As for the pilot, he explained that he 
had been ‘too drunk td do more’n steer, sir, 
and could jest on’y see my land marks. I took 
the north channel,’ ‘he concluded, ‘because I 
wanted folks to know that I was puffickly 
sober.” Frank H. Sweet. 


