in a whirlpool, and
the canoe, if it followed this back-current, would inevitably end in the
same place; for a minute there is no paddling, the bow paddle and the
steersman alone keeping the boat in her proper direction as she drifts
rapidly up the current. Amongst the crew not a word is spoken, but every
man knows what he has to do and will be ready when the moment comes; and
now the moment has come, for on one side there foams along a mad surge of
water, and on the other the angry whirlpool twists and turns in smooth
green hollowing curves round an axis of air, whirling round it with a
strength that would snap our birch bark into fragments and suck us down
into great depths below. All that can be gained by the back-current has
been gained, and now it is time to quit it; but where? for there is often
only the choice of the whirlpool or the central river. Just on the very
edge of the eddy there is one loud shout given by the bow paddle, and the
canoe shoots full into the centre of the boiling flood, driven by the
united strength of the entire crew--the men work for their very lives,
and the boat breasts across the river with her head turned full toward
the falls; the waters foam and dash about her, the waves leap high over
the gunwale, the Indians shout as they dip their paddles like lightning
into the foam, and the stranger to such a scene holds his breath amidst
this war of man against nature. Ha! the struggle is useless, they cannot
force her against such a torrent, we are close to the rocks and the foam;
but see, she is driven down by the current in spite of those wild fast
strokes. The dead strength of such a rushing flood must prevail. Yes, it
is true, the canoe has been driven back; but behold, almost in a second
the whole thing is done-we float suddenly beneath a little rocky isle on
the foot of the cataract. We have crossed the river in the face of the
fall, and the portage landing is over this rock, while three yards out on
either side the torrent foams its headlong course. Of the skill necessary
to perform such things it is useless to speak. A single false stroke, and
the whole thing would have failed; driven headlong down the torrent,
another attempt would have to be made to gain this rock-protected spot,
but now we lie secure here; spray all around us, for the rush of the
river is on either side and you can touch it with an outstretched paddle.
The Indians rest on their paddles and laugh; their long hair has