Canoeing in Kanuckia: Or, Haps and Mishaps Afloat and Ashore of the Statesman, the Editor, the Artist, and the ScribblerHabberton, John
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Canoeing in Kanuckia: Or, Haps and Mishaps Afloat and Ashore of the Statesman, the Editor, the Artist, and the Scribbler
Habberton, John
Canoes and canoeing; Québec (Province) -- Description and travel
As the natives had missed neither spoons, poultry nor any other easily
secreted property during the night, they viewed the departing fleet
with kindly eyes, and pressed sundry favors upon it. The expedition
attempted to advance in column under sail, but it speedily became
involved in difficulties with sundry saw-logs and slightly submerged
ropes, until all available seamanship was called into exercise to avoid
humiliating disaster. When the entrance to the canal was reached, the
navigators discovered that the water was spanned, at short intervals,
by bridges not only so low as to compel the striking of masts, but
also to necessitate the striking of signal staffs fore and aft, and
the temporary assumption, by the various commanders, of a physical
attitude most truly devout. As the fourth bridge was approached by the
expedition, it was also reached by an industrious shower, and no one
made haste to pass from under the cover afforded by the structure.
"Think of the poor sailors on the broad ocean, with no bridge to
shelter them," remarked the Cook, as he improved the opportunity to
light a peaceful pipe. Just then a small stream of water, in search
of its final level, meandered between two planks of the bridge, and
trickled into the Cook's pipe, producing a sizzle which seemed to
greatly titillate the nerves of those who were not smoking. Then
another stream struck the helmet of the Vice and broke into what would
have been a graceful cascade had not its perfect curve been broken by
the official nose. The Purser bowed his head to avoid showing unseemly
merriment at the expense of his superior officer, when another stream,
heavily charged with the soil which wagons had deposited upon the
bridge, insinuated itself between his shirt and his skin. Then began
a magnificent but ineffectual struggle of mind against matter. Given,
a bridge the planks of which were not more than ten inches wide, and
several men whose shoulders exceeded in width any two of the planks,
and whose depth of chest, with its environment, also exceeded the
distance between any two cracks, and the reader will perceive, more
freely than by any logical form of demonstration, the utter futility
of free will in a contest against destiny. The best that man can do
in such an unequal conflict is to prepare himself as well as possible
for the blow, and this the Commodore did by throwing a rubber poncho
(a square sheet with a hole in the middle) over his head, the ends
dropping outside the gunwales of the boat, and shedding the water into
the canal. The wooden decks of the Chrysalids kept water from dripping
into the boats except amidships, the oilcloth decking of the flagship
served a similar purpose, but the inside of the Cherub was soon
deplorable in the extreme.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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