ness that on
a tidal river this fastening must be such as to allow for several feet of
fall as the water ebbs. Therefore, about the inevitable hour of one
o'clock, in the dark, there was a loud and ominous crack and jerk from
the rope, and I knew too well the cause. In the rainy night it was a
troublesome business to arrange matters, and next day was a drowsy one
with me, spent in the strange old streets of the town.

The policeman had orders to call me at any hour when a steamer went by,
and, being hooked at last to the powerful twin-screw _Du Tremblay_, with
a pleasant captain, I rejoiced to near the very last bridge on the river,
with the feeling at heart, "After this we are done with fresh-water
sailing."

It was a suspension-bridge, and the worthy captain forgot all about the
Rob Roy and her mast, when he steered for a low part, where his own
funnel could pass because it was lowered, but where I saw in a moment my
mast must strike.

There was no time to call out, nor would it have availed even to chop the
towing-line with my axe, for the boat had too much "way" on her to stop.
Therefore I could only duck down into the well, to avoid the falling
spars and the splinters.

The bridge struck the mast about two feet from the top, and, instead of
its breaking off with a short snap, the mast bent back and back at least
four feet just as if it were a fishing rod, to my great amazement. The
strong vibration of its truck (_pomme_ the French call it), throbbed
every nerve of boat and man, as it scraped over each plank above, and
then the mast sprang up free from the bridge with such a switch, that it
burst the lashings of both the iron shrouds merely by this rebound.

Now was felt the congratulation that we had carefully secured a
first-rate mast for the Rob Roy, one of the pieces of Vancouver wood,
proved, by the competitions lately held, to be the strongest of all
timber.

The moments of expected disaster and of happy relief were vivid as they
passed, but I made the steamer stop, and on climbing the mast, I found
not even the slightest crack or injury there. Henceforth we shall trust
the goodly spar in any gale, with the confidence only to be had by a
crucial test like this.

As we shall soon be at sea again, but the river is calm enough here,
perhaps this will be a fit opportunity for the reader to peep into Rob
Roy's cave as it was usually made up for the night.

The floor of the cabin is made of thin mahoga