Superior Fishing

CHAPTER I.. Lake Superior.

LAKE SUPERIOR.

Don Pedro is descended from one of what we in our young country call the old and highly-respectable families, and having been nurtured amid the refinements and luxuries of life, is one of the most gentlemanly men imaginable. At the public rooms of a hotel, in the halls, on the piazza, in the saloon of a steamboat, he can never pass a lady, though she be a perfect stranger, without in the most deferential manner removing his hat. To this reverence for the fair sex he adds an easy elegance towards his own, that at once commands attention and respect.

Never having taken an active share in the world’s affairs, his abilities, which are far above the average, have lain dormant or run to criticising art or committing poetry; and he is rather apt to discuss very small matters with a minuteness and persistency that important ones scarcely merit.

He had travelled Europe, of course, had shot quail and taken trout in Long Island, fired at crocodiles on the Nile and jackals in the desert; and although probably the greatest exposure of his life had been damp sheets at a country inn, and his severest hardship the finding his claret sour or being compelled twice in one day to eat of the same kind of game, he was now seized with a sporting mania, and determined to rough it in the woods. An unsafe companion, perhaps, the reader may think; but it is not always the roughest men who have the most pluck, nor those accustomed to the commonest fare who grumble the least when offered still coarser, and there is truth in the words of worthy Tom Draw: “Give me a raal gentleman, one as sleeps soft and eats high, and drinks highest kind, to stand roughing it.”

So we discussed matters over a comfortable dinner, with the aid of a couple of bottles of claret, one of champagne, and a little brandy; and Don concluded he would as lief eat salt pork as woodcock, and ship biscuit as French rolls. He was anxious to examine my list of camp articles, and was quite ready to do away with a large part of them; but finally determined to leave that matter to me, holding me strictly responsible for carrying any unnecessary effeminate luxuries. The discussion was not a short one, but this happy decision being arrived at, I was perfectly satisfied.

We met by appointment a few days later at the Angier House, in that thriving, active town of Cleveland, which seems to be drawing to itself the business of the other cities of Lake Erie, and, cannibal-like, to be growing fat on their exhausted lives. It is a thoroughly American city, and, like all our cities, doubtless has the handsomest street in the world, for so we were assured by the citizens.

A large part of the trade of Cleveland is with the mines of Lake Superior, and steamers leave almost daily for that region, carrying a miscellaneous assortment of the necessaries of life, and returning laden with copper and iron ore. Not content, however, with this unexciting freight, these vessels propose to carry excursion parties round the lakes, and are all, if their advertisements are to be believed, supplied with brass bands, and every luxury of the season.

In Cleveland we intended to purchase such ardent spirits as we might require, and Don commenced:

“Now as to this question of liquor, I should like to have your views concerning kind and quantity?”

“Well, I expect we will be in the woods twenty days, and have made my computations on that basis; so we will need a case of liquor, and as you prefer brandy, brandy let it be.”

“No, no; by no means,” responded Don; “do not let my predilections influence you; besides, a dozen bottles seems a good deal. If we were gone twenty-four days it would be just a pint a day, or a half-pint apiece--rather severe, considering we expect to rough it.”

“You know we have to give the men some occasionally, and then we will meet other parties and have mutual good-luck to drink. It will not be an over-supply, though we can make it less if you say so; I myself drink little when in the woods.”

“I believe that,” replied Don, ironically; “and considering how well I know you, it was hardly worth while to mention it. But this is a serious question, for we can get nothing drinkable after leaving Cleveland; and if we have to do what you say, do you not think we shall run short? I want plenty of everything, and it would be better to take a dozen and a half, if there is a doubt.”

“There is no doubt; but if----”

“If you say there is no doubt, that is sufficient; but I am surprised you should give the men expensive brandy, when they would probably prefer a coarser article.”

“Of course, we will take a common whiskey for the men; but occasionally while using the flask ourselves we will naturally pass it to them.”

“Ah, yes; I understand. But, really, I am not satisfied it should be all brandy; you must not expect to have the same comforts you would in the city, and if you will take my advice, you will have at least part whiskey.”

“But you prefer brandy, and one is as easy to carry as the other.”

“Really, now, you must not consult my wishes; in fact, although I admit a slight preference for brandy, many persons prefer whiskey. Before you decide, it would be well to examine the matter thoroughly; and as we are now at the store, you must make up your mind promptly.”

This conversation had taken place as we were walking from the hotel to an establishment that had been recommended to us.

“Remember,” continued Don, “you must act for the joint interest, and there are several points well worth considering. In the first place, whiskey is much cheaper; then it is probably purer than the brandy you buy here; if a bottle should be broken the loss is less----”

“Certainly; if you would be equally content, I should arrange it differently.”

“How often must I tell you not to consider me, and I am decidedly pleased at your change of views. Now, putting aside any supposed preference on my part, what proportions would you suggest?”

“Nine of whiskey to three of brandy.”

“Ah,” gasped Don, losing his breath at the suddenness of this response, “have you given the matter sufficient consideration? You have not even ascertained the price;” and then turning to the clerk, he asked: “How do you sell your best whiskey?”

“Eight dollars a dozen, and brandy two dollars a bottle.”

“Nine bottles of whiskey would be six dollars,” I calculated aloud, “and six for the brandy, make twelve. Have them packed and delivered on board the City of Cleveland promptly at half-past seven, because she leaves at eight.”

“But are you satisfied?” cried Don in an agony of horror at such a want of discussion; “have you examined all the bearings of the change? Can it be packed in time? You know whiskey does not go as far as brandy. Are you sure you have enough? Is there no question about that being the best proportion? Would you not prefer all whiskey? In case of sickness, may we not need more brandy? What is the best mode of packing it? Is it sure to be at the boat punctually?”

“That is the clerk’s affair; if it is there it will be paid for, and if not it won’t. Let’s look at the town; come,” and I dragged him off just in time to avoid a dozen new propositions, and as many unanswerable questions, leaving the clerk, bottle in hand, looking the image of despair at the avalanche of inquiries that had burst upon him.

After strolling about for several hours we reached the boat, and found the case of liquor waiting for us, and proceeded to select our stateroom. This matter rose at once to a serious question in Don’s eyes. I resolved to leave it entirely to him, confident that his elegant manner would impress the steward. He at once devoted his entire attention to it, flitting from place to place in the forward and after cabins with the steward at his side, pointing out defects here, suggesting changes there, popping in and out of doors, describing his foreign experiences and the prime necessity of comfortable quarters, turning down the sheets, peering into cracks, feeling the pillows, casting a suspicious eye upon blankets, dissatisfied with all, and finally resolved to take one which could not be examined at the time for want of the key, but which the steward, who had been a respectful and sympathetic listener, assured him had none of the defects he had pointed out.

The immaculate stateroom was engaged, the boat pushed off, the key was obtained, and lo and behold! if it had none of these specified defects, it had another--one of the wooden supports, a huge beam eighteen inches broad, passed directly up through the foot of both the berths, reducing them to four feet six inches in length. When Don made this discovery his face was a study for his friends the artists; anger could not do justice to the occasion; despair, bewilderment, horror, astonishment, seemed blended, with a lurking suspicion that the sympathetic steward had been making game of him. He rushed to the office, could find nothing of the steward, but was informed that all the other staterooms were engaged.

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