this were the street they had missed; that they might
sit and chat and drive away the time, and so at last
find themselves in Nashua. This smooth way they
much preferred. But our boat was crowded with
necessary furniture, and sunk low in the water, and
moreover required to be worked, for even
it
did not progress against the stream without effort;
so we were obliged to deny them passage. As
we glided away with even sweeps, while the fates scattered
oil in our course, the sun now sinking behind the
alders on the distant shore, we could still see them
far off over the water, running along the shore and
climbing over the rocks and fallen trees like insects,—for
they did not know any better than we that they were
on an island,—the unsympathizing river
ever flowing in an opposite direction; until, having
reached the entrance of the island brook, which they
had probably crossed upon the locks below, they found
a more effectual barrier to their progress.
They seemed to be learning much in a little time.
They ran about like ants on a burning brand, and once
more they tried the river here, and once more there,
to see if water still indeed was not to be walked
on, as if a new thought inspired them, and by some
peculiar disposition of the limbs they could accomplish
it. At length sober common sense seemed to have
resumed its sway, and they concluded that what they
had so long heard must be true, and resolved to ford
the shallower stream. When nearly a mile distant
we could see them stripping off their clothes and
preparing for this experiment; yet it seemed likely
that a new dilemma would arise, they were so thoughtlessly
throwing away their clothes on the wrong side of the
stream, as in the case of the countryman with his
corn, his fox, and his goose, which had to be transported
one at a time. Whether they got safely through,
or went round by the locks, we never learned.
We could not help being struck by the seeming, though
innocent indifference of Nature to these men’s
necessities, while elsewhere she was equally serving
others. Like a true benefactress, the secret
of her service is unchangeableness. Thus is the
busiest merchant, though within sight of his Lowell,
put to pilgrim’s shifts, and soon comes to staff
and scrip and scallop shell.
We, too, who held the middle of the stream, came near
experiencing a pilgrim’s fate, being tempted
to pursue what seemed a sturgeon or larger fish, for
we remembered that this was the Sturgeon River, its
dark and monstrous back alternately rising and sinking
in mid-stream. We kept falling behind, but the
fish kept his back well out, and did not dive, and
seemed to prefer to swim against the stream, so, at
any rate, he would not escape us by going out to sea.
At length, having got as near as was convenient,
and looking out not to get a blow from his tail, now
the bow-gunner delivered his charge, while the stern-man
held his ground. But the halibut-skinned monster,
in one of these swift-gliding pregnant moments, without
ever ceasing his bobbing up and down, saw fit, without
a chuckle or other prelude, to proclaim himself a
huge imprisoned spar, placed there as a buoy, to warn
sailors of sunken rocks. So, each casting some
blame upon the other, we withdrew quickly to safer
waters.