The Romance of the Colorado River Part 11

By referring to the relief map opposite page 41, the mouth of the Paria is seen a trifle more than half-way up the right-hand side. The walls of Glen Canyon here recede from the river and become on the south the Echo Cliffs, taking the name from the Echo Peaks which form their beginning, and on the north the Vermilion Cliffs, so called by Powell because of their bright red colour. The latter, and the canyon of the Paria, make the edges of the great mesa called the Paria Plateau, and, running on north to the very head of the Kaibab uplift, strike off south-westerly to near Pipe Spring, where they turn and run in a north-west direction to the Virgen River. Between the receding lines of these cliffs, at the Paria, is practically the head of the Grand Canyon. The river at once begins an attack on the underlying strata, and the resulting canyon, while at first not more than two hundred feet deep, rapidly increases this depth, as the strata run up and the river runs down. The canyon is narrow, and seen from a height resembles, as previously mentioned, a dark serpent lying across a plain. As the formation down to the Little Colorado is mainly a fine-grained grey marble, Powell concluded to call this division by a separate name, and gave it the t.i.tle it now bears, Marble Canyon. There is no separation between Marble Canyon and the following one, the Grand Canyon, except the narrow gorge of the Little Colorado, so that topographically the chasm which begins at the Paria, ends at the Grand Wash, a distance of 283 miles, as the river runs, the longest, deepest, and altogether most magnificent example of the canyon formation to be found on the globe. With an average depth of about four thousand feet, it reaches for long stretches between five thousand and six thousand. At the Paria (Lee's Ferry) the alt.i.tude above the sea is 3170 feet, while at the end of the canyon, the Grand Wash, the elevation is only 840 feet. The declivity is thus very great (see the diagram on page 57, which gives from the Little Colorado down), the total fall being 2330 feet. Further comment on the character of the river within this wonderful gorge is unnecessary. Powell had been through it on his first expedition, and was now to make the pa.s.sage again, to examine its geological and geographical features more in detail. Meanwhile, as recorded in the last chapter, Lieutenant Wheeler had made an effort, apparently to forestall this examination, and had precariously succeeded in reaching Diamond Creek, which is just at the south end of the Shewits Plateau, lower left-hand corner of the map facing page 41. Powell and Thompson arrived at our camp at the mouth of the Paria on the 13th of August (1872) accompanied by Mrs. Thompson, who had been at Kanab all the previous winter, and had pluckily made several trips with Thompson into the mountains, and Professor De Motte. They had come in by way of the south end of the Kaibab, and it was on this occasion that the valley on the southern part of the summit was named De Motte Park. Preparations for our descent through the great chasm were immediately begun. The boats had been previously overhauled, and as the Nellie Powell was found unseaworthy from last season's knocks, or at least not in condition to be relied on in the Grand Canyon, she was abandoned, and Lee kept her for a ferry-boat. Perhaps she might have been repaired, but anyhow we had only men enough to handle two boats. Steward's trouble had not sufficiently improved to warrant his risking further exposure, so he had returned to his home in Illinois. Bishop was in a similar plight, and went to Salt Lake to regain his health, and Beaman had started off to carry on some photographic operations of his own. He came to the river and crossed on his way to the Moki country, while we were preparing to depart from the Paria. Johnson and Fennemore, who had been with us part of the winter, were too ill to think of entering the great canyon, with all the uncertainties of such a venture, and as before noted they, too, had left. Our party, then, consisted of seven: Powell, Thompson, Hillers, Jones, W. C. Powell, Hattan, and Dellenbaugh, all from the first season's crew. No one else was available, as the trip was regarded in that region as extremely desperate. On the 14th, the boats, Emma Dean and Canonita, were in readiness, and we loaded and took them down a mile and a half to the point near where the road came in from Kanab, whence our final departure would be made as soon as Powell, who needed a little extra time for arranging his papers and general affairs, should say the word. Everything was carefully attended to, as if we were preparing our last will and testament, and were never to be seen alive again, and I believe this was the firm conviction of most of those not going with the boats. Those who were going had abundant respect for the dragon, and well knew that no holiday excursion was before them. Their spirit was humble, and no precaution was to be neglected; no spirit of bravado permitted to endanger the success of the undertaking. Mrs. Thompson and De Motte ran down with us through two small rapids that exist at the mouth of the Paria, and which we had to pa.s.s to reach the camp mentioned. Mrs. Thompson would willingly have gone all the way through if her husband had consented to it.

On the 15th it was "all ash.o.r.e not going"; we said our farewells to those leaving for Kanab, and turned our attention to the river. We would see no one after starting till we arrived at the mouth of the Kanab, where we had discovered, during the winter, that a pack-train, with some difficulty, could be brought in with supplies. It was not till the 17th that we were able to leave, as the boats needed some further attention.

On that day, about nine o'clock, we cast off and went down some five miles, running one little rapid and another of considerable size before we halted for dinner. The walls were still not high, only about five hundred feet, and I climbed out to secure a farewell glance at the open country. On starting again we had not gone far before we came to a really bad place, a fall of about eighteen feet in seventy-five yards, where it was deemed respectful to make a portage. This accomplished, another of the same nature, with an equally fierce growl, discovered itself not far below, and a camp was made where we landed at its head.

This was ten miles below our starting-point, and seemed to be the spot where a band of ten mining prospectors were wrecked about a month before. They had gone in to the mouth of the Paria on a prospecting trip, and concluded they would examine the Grand Canyon. Consequently they built a large raft, and after helping themselves to a lot of our cooking utensils and other things from some caches we had made when we went out from the river for our winter's work, they sailed, away, expecting to accomplish wonders. Ten miles, to the first bad rapids, was the extent of their voyage, and there they were fortunate to escape with their lives, but nothing else, and by means of ladders made from driftwood, they reached once more the outer world, having learned the lesson the Colorado is sure to teach those who regard it lightly. We made a portage at the place and enjoyed a good laugh when we looked at the vertical rocks and pictured the prospectors dismally crawling out of the roaring waters with nothing left but the clothes on their backs. Our opinion was, they were served just right: first, because they had stolen our property, and, second, because they had so little sense. The walls had rapidly grown in alt.i.tude, and near the river were vertical so that climbing out at this place was a particularly difficult undertaking. The river was still very high, but not at the highest stage of this year, which had been pa.s.sed before the Canonita party had come down to the Paria from Fremont River. But the canyon was even yet uncomfortably full and we were hoping the water would diminish rapidly, for high tide in such a place is a great disadvantage. The stream was thick with red mud, the condition from which it derived its name, and it swept along with a splendid vigour that betokened a large reserve flood in the high mountains. The marble composing the walls of this canyon for most of its length is of a greyish drab colour often beautifully veined, but it must not be supposed that the walls are the same colour externally, for they are usually a deep red, due to the discoloration of their surface by disintegration of beds above full of iron. Except where high water had scoured the walls, there was generally no indication of their real colour. In places the friction of the current had brought them to a glistening polish; the surface was smooth as gla.s.s, and was sometimes cut into mult.i.tudinous irregular flutings as deep as one's finger. The grinding power of the current was well shown in some of the boulders, which had been dovetailed together till the irregular line of juncture was barely perceptible.

The next day was begun by accomplishing the portage over the rapid which had punished the prospectors for their temerity and for their lack of proper morals, and then we made most excellent progress, successfully putting behind us eleven lively rapids free from rocks before we were admonished to pause and make a let-down. Then camp was established for the night with the record of ten and three-eighths miles for our day's work. At one place we pa.s.sed a rock in the water so large that it almost blocked the entire stream, which had averaged about two hundred feet in width, though narrowing at many places to no more than seventy-five. The current was always extremely swift, while many whirlpools added their demands, though they gave us no serious trouble. It is exasperating, however, to be turned around against one's will. The canyon at the top for a considerable distance was not over three-quarters of a mile wide.

The depth was now from fifteen hundred to eighteen hundred feet. There were always rapids following quickly one after another, but so often they were free from rocks, the dangerous part of most rapids, that we were able to sail through them in triumph. On the 20th, out of thirteen sharp descents, we easily ran twelve, all in a distance of less than seven miles. The average width of the river was one hundred and twenty-five feet, while the walls rose to over two thousand feet, and at the top the canyon was about a mile and a quarter from brink to brink.

This brought us to Vasey's Paradise, so named after a botanist friend of his, by Powell on the first descent. It was only a lot of ferns, mosses, and similar plants growing around two springs that issued from the cliffs on the right about seventy-five feet above the river, and rippled in silver threads to the bottom, but as it was the first green spot since leaving the Paria its appearance was striking and attractive to the eye that had been baffled in all directions except above, in a search for something besides red. Now the narrow, terraced canyon, often vertical on both sides for several hundred feet above the water, grew ever deeper and deeper, two thousand, twenty-five hundred, three thousand feet and more, as the impetuous torrent slashed its way down, till it finally seemed to me as if we were actually sailing into the inner heart of the world. The sensation on the first expedition, when each dark new bend was a dark new mystery, must have been something to quite overpower the imagination, for then it was not known that, by good management, a boat could pa.s.s through this Valley of the Shadow of Death, and survive. Down, and down, and ever down, roaring and leaping and throwing its spiteful spray against the hampering rocks the terrible river ran, carrying our boats along with it like little wisps of straw in the midst of a Niagara, the terraced walls around us sometimes fantastically eroded into galleries, balconies, alcoves, and Gothic caves that lent to them an additional weird and wonderful aspect, while the reverberating turmoil of the ever-descending flood was like some extravagant musical accompaniment to the extraordinary panorama flitting past of rock sculpture and bounding cliffs.

The 22d was a day to be particularly remembered, for the walls, though more broken at the water's edge, were now some thirty-five hundred feet high and seemed to be increasing by leaps and bounds, for at one place, through a side gorge on the right, we could discern cliffs so far above our heads that tall pine trees looked no larger than lead pencils. It was the end of the Kaibab, whose summit was more than five thousand feet higher than the river at this point. Cataract followed rapid and rapid followed cataract as we were hurled on down through the midst of the sublimity, which, parting at our advance, closed again behind like some wonderful phantasmagoria. At times in the headlong rush the boats could barely be held in control. Once, a wild ma.s.s of breakers appeared immediately in the path of our boat, from which it was impossible to escape, even though we made a severe effort to do so. We thought we were surely to be crushed, and I shall not forget the seconds that pa.s.sed as we waited for the collision which never came, for when the boat dashed into the midst of the spray, there was no shock whatever; we glided through as if on oil,--the rocks were too far beneath the surface to harm us. So constant was the rush of the descending waters that our oars were needed only for guidance.

Late in the day there came a long straight stretch, at the bottom of which the river appeared to vanish. Had any one said the course was now underground from that point onward, it would have seemed entirely appropriate. In the outer world the sun was low, though it had long been gone to us, and the blue haze of approaching night was drawing a veil of strange uncertainty among the cliffs, while far above, the upper portions of the mighty eastern walls, at all times of gorgeous hue, were now beautifully enriched by the last hot radiance of the western sky.

Such a view as this was worth all the labour we had accomplished. When the end of this marvellous piece of canyon was reached a small river was found to enter on the left through a narrow gorge like the main canyon.

It was the Little Colorado, and beside it on a sand-bank we stopped for the night, having ended one of the finest runs of our experience, about eighteen miles with but a single let-down; yet in this distance there were eighteen rapids, one of which was about two and one half miles long. It was a glorious record, and I do not recall another day which was more exhilarating. We had arrived at the end of Marble Canyon and the beginning of the Grand Canyon, there being nothing to mark the division but the narrow gorge of the Little Colorado. In Marble Canyon we had found sixty-nine rapids in the sixty-five and one half miles, with a total descent of 480 feet. Of these we ran sixty, let down by lines five times, and made four portages. Here at the mouth of the Little Colorado was the place where White's imagination pictured overwhelming terrors and his worst experience in a whirlpool opposite.

But in reality the Colorado at this particular point is very tame, and when we were there the Little Colorado was a lamb.

Now the Grand Canyon, as named by Powell on his former trip, was before us, and soon we were descending through the incomparable chasm. Three or four miles below the Little Colorado the walls break away, and the canyon has more the appearance of a valley hemmed in by beetling cliffs and crags which rise up in all directions over 5000 feet, distant from the line of the river five or six miles. On the right were two minor valleys within the canyon called Nancoweap and Kwagunt, named by Powell after the Pai Utes, who have trails coming down into them.*

* Kwagunt was the name of a Pai Ute who said he owned this valley--that his father, who used to live there, had given it to him.

As we went on, the canyon narrowed again, becoming wilder and grander than ever, and on the 28th, late in the day, we came to the first bad fall in this division, where a portage was necessary, and we made a camp. A short distance below this camp the granite ran up. To any one who has been in this chasm with a boat, the term "the granite runs up" has a deep significance. It means that the First Granite Gorge is beginning, and this First Granite Gorge, in the Kaibab division of the canyon, less than fifty miles in length as the stream runs, contains the wildest, swiftest, steepest piece of river on this continent except a portion in Cataract Canyon. The declivity is tremendous. Between the Little Colorado and the Kanab the total fall is 890 feet, and the bulk of this drop occurs in the granite. In one stretch of ten miles the descent is 210 feet. All through this granite the character of the river is different from anything above. The falls are short and violent, while the stretches in between are smooth and not always swift. But the moment a break occurs the turbulence and commotion are instantly very great.

The summer is the wet season here, and to add to our troubles we were treated to frequent rains. The next day toward noon, as we were sailing along between the black walls, on a rather sluggish current, a deep-toned roar was borne up to our ears. Nothing could be seen of the cause of it, but a complete disappearance of the river from our sight warned us to make a landing as soon as possible. Some broken rocks protruding a few feet above the water at the base of the right-hand wall afforded the desired opportunity, and running in we stepped out and mounted them. The cause of the roaring was immediately apparent. For a third of a mile the river was a solid ma.s.s of huge waves and foam and plunges, and on each side the granite came down so precipitously that a footing was impossible. It took no second glance to tell us that, at least with this stage of water, there was but one course, and that was to run the place. There is nothing like having the inner man fortified for exertion, therefore with a few bits of driftwood a fire was built, by means of which Andy prepared dinner. When this had been disposed of operations were begun. The Canonita was to remain here till our boat was well through. In case we smashed up they would have a better chance, as they might profit by our course, and if we went through safely, we would be prepared to pick them up should disaster overtake them. At last we were ready. The crew of the Canonita placed themselves where they could carefully watch our fortunes, and we pulled up the river very close to the right-hand wall in slack current, for about a quarter of a mile, when we turned the bow out and struck for the middle, heading there straight for the descent. I pulled the bow oars, and my back was toward the terrific roar which, like the voice of some awful monster, grew louder as we approached. It was difficult to refrain from turning round to see what it looked like now, but as everything depended on the promptness with which Hillers and I handled our oars in obedience to Powell's orders, I waited for the plunge, every instant ready to execute a command. We kept in the middle of the stream, and as we neared the brink our speed began to accelerate. Then of a sudden there was a dropping away of all support, a reeling sensation, and we flew down the declivity with the speed of a locomotive. The gorge was chaos. The boat rolled and plunged. The wild waters rolled over us, filling the open s.p.a.ces to the gunwale. With the camp kettles that were left out of the cabins for that purpose, Hillers and I bailed as hard as we could, letting the boat go with the current, but it seemed to do little good, for every moment the waves broke over the craft from end to end, and our efforts might as well have been made with a teaspoon, though in many other rapids the kettles had proved effective. Here and there, as we shot down, I could look back under a canopy of foam and see the head of a great black rock. Fortunately we safely cleared everything, and in probably less than a minute we were at the bottom, lying to in an eddy, bailing fast and watching for the other boat. No sign of any living thing could be discovered as we peered up the rapid, which from below had the appearance of an almost vertical fall. Presently at the top of the foam a white speck moved, clearly seen against the dark background.

It was the Canonita on the edge of the fall. I can see her yet, pausing for an instant, apparently, and then disappearing completely amidst the plunging waters. A minute later she reappeared at the bottom and ran alongside of us in good order. Owing to the large amount of water there seemed to be not much danger of striking a rock, and our boats did not capsize easily. After the plunge was begun we did not try to guide the boats--it would have been useless. The fall here was about forty feet in a third of a mile. Some of the men called it the Sockdologer.

The picture of it from above, on page 219, does not give a correct impression, as the plate was too slow, but it was the best that could be done at the time. The canyon continued very narrow at the bottom, the river averaging about one hundred and fifty feet. Late in the afternoon we arrived at a much worse place than the Sockdologer, though the fall was not so great. Landing on the left on some broken rocks, we saw no chance of getting around the rapid there, so we crossed to the right and landed on another little pile of rocks in a small alcove. The walls rose vertically, or nearly so, from the water's edge. We saw the only thing to do was to lower one boat, with two men on board, by her line for some distance (a hundred feet of best Manila rope were attached to each boat by a strong iron ring; in the stern was also an iron ring), and from the stern let the other cautiously down to the very head of the fall, where there was a second pile of rocks which received the boat between them and held her fast. The upper boat was then pulled back to where we had remained, the line from the second being tied to her stern. Entering her we clung to projections of the wall with our hands, to prevent the current from swinging the boat out, while the men who were in the lower boat carefully hauled on the stern line till at last we also reached the rocks. With a great deal of labour we then worked both boats from these rocks to some others nearer the right wall, from which they were manoeuvred across to a pile about two hundred feet away against the foot of the cliff, This ended our struggle for the day, as night was upon us.

The black rocks towering so far above made the gorge darken early, and rain began to fall. A little damp driftwood was collected with which a fire was started in order that Andy might prepare supper. When this was almost ready peal after peal of thunder suddenly crashed among the cliffs, which seemed to collapse and fall down upon us, and a flood from the sky descended. The fire died without a sputter, everything not in rubber was soaked, and all we could do was to stand in the darkness, cold and hungry, and wait for the deluge to cease. At last we were able to start the fire once more, and had a half-cooked supper before hunting the soft sides of the rocks for beds. The next day it required hard work till one o'clock to get the boats down two hundred yards farther. At one place to keep the bow in, I was in one of the boats, being lowered along the wall, while the other men were a hundred feet above my head, holding the end of two hundred feet of rope, as they clambered along a ledge.

The situation all around was rather precarious, but we had no accident.

This brought us to a small alcove where there was a limited talus. The boats were so much bruised that we were obliged to halt on these rocks for repairs, instead of starting out again into the current as we intended. This work took so long that darkness approached before all was done. At the same time we discovered that the river was rising rapidly, at the rate of three or four feet an hour, submerging the rocks.

Fortunately, about twenty feet up the cliff was a narrow shelf, and to this the rations were pa.s.sed to guard them from the rising waters. Then there was danger of the boats pounding to pieces, as the s.p.a.ce they were on was rapidly decreasing, and waves from the rapid swept into the cove, so it was decided to raise them up on the side of the wall as far as necessary. By means of the ropes we succeeded in swinging them at a height of about six feet and there made them fast for the night.

There was not room on the ledge for a camp, but by going out around a projection a talus was available, though there was a dearth of wood and level spots. I managed to find enough half-dead mesquite bushes for a fire, and Andy did his best on the supper. One hundred feet above the river I found driftwood. To add to the discomfort of the occasion the rain began again, and the river continued its rise. Through the night a watch was kept on the boats, so that they could be lifted farther if necessary. The morning of August 31st was wet and gloomy in the black gorge. Some of the rocks were still above water, against the wall. When the boats were lowered they pounded about at a frightful rate on the surges that swept into the alcove. Then it was found that a hole in the Dean had been forgotten or overlooked, and she was leaking badly in the middle compartment. But there was no chance to stop longer here for repairs, as the river seemed to be still rising. A bag of flour was jammed against the hole, the boat was loaded, the hatches were battened down, we grasped our oars, and while the Canonita crew held our stern to give us a fair start we pulled straight out as hard as we could to clear a huge rock just below, upon which the current was fiercely dashing. Our boat was so wet and full of water that the gunwales were barely above the surface as we rolled heavily along through large waves. I felt very uncertain as to whether or not she would remain afloat till we could make a landing, but luckily she did, and we halted at the first opportunity. This was at a talus on the right where the entire cargo was spread out on the rocks to dry in the sun which now cheered us by its warm rays, and the leak in the boat was stopped. The Canonita soon came down safely. She was of a slightly better build than the Dean, and, with one less man in her, was able to ride more buoyantly. It was after four o'clock before we were ready to go on, and we started once more with a fairly tight boat, dry inside. Then we had a wild ride. The descent was steady. For eight miles there was a continuous rapid, accentuated by eight heavy falls. The boats sped along at high speed, but the way being clear we did not often stop, pa.s.sing two places where the former expedition made portages. We had a glimpse of a creek coming in on the right which looked interesting, but it was left behind in a moment as the boats shot along between the dark granite walls. At a quarter past five we ran up to a sand-bank where a lone willow tree was growing.

Here we made a camp. The canyon spread a little and the wide sand-bank appeared to our eyes like a prairie. Just below our camp there came in a muddy stream, which on the other trip was clear and was then named Bright Angel to offset the application of Dirty Devil to the river at the foot of Narrow Canyon.

It was now the beginning of September, but the water and the air were not so cold as they had been the year before in Cataract Canyon, and we did not suffer from being so constantly saturated. Running on the next day following the Bright Angel camp, we found the usual number of large rapids, in one of which a wave struck the steering oar and knocked Jones out of the boat all but his knees, by which he clung to the gunwale, nearly capsizing us. We found it impossible to help him, but somehow he got in again. The river was everywhere very swift and turbulent. One stretch of three and a half miles we ran in fifteen minutes. There were numerous whirlpools, but nothing to stop our triumphant progress. On the 2d of September there were two portages, and twenty rapids run, in the fifteen miles made during the day. Many of these rapids were very heavy descents. That night we camped above a bad-looking place, but it was decided to run it in the morning. Three-quarters of a mile below camp there was a general disappearance of the waters. We could see nothing of the great rapid from the level of the boats, though we caught an occasional glimpse of the leaping, tossing edges, or tops, of the huge billows rolling out beyond into the farther depths of the chasm. About eight o'clock in the morning all was ready for the start. The inflated life-preservers, as was customary in our boat, were laid behind the seats where we could easily reach them. The Major put his on, a most fortunate thing for him as it turned out, but we who were at the oars did not for the reason before mentioned,--that they interfered with the free handling of the boat. The men of the Canonita took positions where they could observe and profit by our movements. Then out into the current we pushed and were immediately swept downward with ever-increasing speed toward the centre of the disturbance, the black walls springing up on each side of the impetuous waters like mighty b.u.t.tresses for the lovely blue vault of the September sky, so serenely quiet. Accelerated by the rush of a small intervening rapid, our velocity appeared to multiply till we were flying along like a railway train. The whole width of the river dropped away before us, falling some twenty-five or thirty feet, at least, in a short s.p.a.ce. We now saw that the rapid was of a particularly difficult nature, and the order was given to attempt a landing on some rocks at its head, on the left. At the same instant this was seen to be impossible. Our only safety lay in taking the plunge in the main channel. We backwatered on our oars to check our speed a trifle, and the next moment with a wild leap we went over, charging into the roaring, seething, beating waves below. Wave after wave broke over us in quick succession, keeping our standing-rooms full. The boat plunged like a bucking broncho, at the same time rolling with fierce violence. As rapidly as possible we bailed with our kettles, but the effort was useless. At length, as we neared the end, an immense billow broke upon our port bow with a resounding crack. The little craft succ.u.mbed. With a quick careen she turned upside down, and we were in the foaming current. I threw up my hand and fortunately grasped a spare oar that was fastened along the outside of the boat. This enabled me to pull myself above the surface and breathe. My felt hat had stuck to my head and now almost suffocated me. Pushing it back I looked around. Not a sign of life was to be seen. The river disappeared below in the dark granite. My companions were gone. I was apparently alone in the great chasm. But in a moment or two Powell and Hillers, who had both been pulled down by the whirlpool that was keeping all together, shot up like rockets beside me, and then I noticed Jones clinging to the ring in the stern. As we told Powell, after this experience was over, he had tried to make a geological investigation of the bed of the river, and this was not advisable. Hillers and I climbed on the bottom of the upturned boat, and by catching hold of the opposite gunwale, and throwing ourselves back, we brought her right-side up. Then we two climbed in, an operation requiring nice calculation, for she rolled so much with the load of water that her tendency was to turn over again on slight provocation. We bailed with our hats rapidly. There was need for expeditious work, for we could not tell what might be around the corner. Presently enough water was out to steady the boat, and we then helped Powell and Jones to get in. Our oars had fortunately remained in the rowlocks, and grasping them, without waiting to haul in the hundred feet of line trailing in the current, we made for the left wall, where I managed to leap out on a shelf and catch the rope over a projection, before the Canonita, unharmed, dashed up to the spot; her only mishap was the loss of a rowlock and two oars.

Starting once more on the swift current, we found rapids sometimes so situated that it was difficult to make a landing for examination. At one of these places, towards evening, a good deal of time was spent working down to the head of an ugly looking spot which could not be fairly seen.

An enormous rock lay in the very middle at the head of the descent.

There was no landing-place till very near the plunge, and in dropping down when we came to the point where it was planned that I should jump out upon a projecting flat rock, a sudden lurch of the boat due to what Stanton afterwards called fountains, and we termed boils, caused me, instead of landing on the rock, to disappear in the rushing waters.

The current catching the boat, she began to move rapidly stern foremost toward the fall. Powell and Jones jumped out on rocks as they shot past, hoping to catch the line, but they could not reach it, and Jones had all he could do to get ash.o.r.e. Meanwhile I had come to the surface, and going to the boat by means of the line which I still held, I fairly tumbled on board. Hillers handed me one of my oars which had come loose, and we were ready to take the fall, now close at hand, albeit we were stern first. As we sped down, the tide carried us far up on the huge rock, whose shelving surface sank upstream below the surging torrent, and at the same moment turned our bow towards the left-hand bank.

Perceiving this advantage we pulled with all our strength and shot across the very head of the rapid, running in behind a large rock on the brink, where the boat lodged till I was able to leap ash.o.r.e, or rather to another rock where there was a footing, and make fast the line. It was a close shave. The Canonita, forewarned, was able to let down to this place, from whence we made a portage to the bottom the next morning. When once started again, we found ourselves in a very narrow gorge, where for four or five miles it was impossible to stop on account of the swift current which swept the boats along like chaff before a gale, swinging them from one side to the other, and often turning them round and round in the large whirlpools despite every effort we made to prevent this performance. In fact, we had no control of the craft in this distance, and it was fortunate that there was nothing worse to be here encountered. The whirlpools were the most perfect specimens I ever saw. Usually they were about twenty feet in diameter, drawing evenly down toward the vortex, the centre being probably about eighteen inches to two feet below the rim. The vortex at the top was about six to ten inches in diameter, diminishing in five or six feet to a mere point at the bottom. Our boats were twenty-two feet long, and as they were turned around in these whirls they about reached across them, while we could look over the side and see the vortex sucking down every small object.

The opposite of these was the fountains, or boils, where the surface was exactly the reverse of the whirls: a circular ma.s.s of water about twenty feet in diameter would suddenly lift itself a foot or two above the general surface with a boiling, swirling movement. As I remember them they were usually the forerunners of the whirlpools.

The river was still on the rise, scoring at the last camp another three feet. With such a dashing current the time we made where we were not compelled to move cautiously was admirable. On this day fourteen miles were traversed, we ran twenty-three rapids, and, what pleased us most, we saw the granite disappear, and the comfortable-looking red strata were again beside us. The river widened somewhat, and was now about two hundred and fifty feet. A cascade was pa.s.sed on the 7th, which we recognized as one Beaman, who had climbed up to it during the winter, from the mouth of the Kanab, had photographed. From here to the Kanab was ten miles, and we sailed along with lightened hearts, knowing that our sadly depleted and half-ruined stock of rations would soon be replenished, and that mail from the world would be delivered by the pack-train we expected to find there. Late in the afternoon we arrived at the narrow cleft, and our men, who had waited long, were overjoyed to greet us once more, for, as we were several days overdue, they had been filled with forebodings, and had made up their minds they would never see us again.

From the Little Colorado we had travelled over ninety difficult miles, run one hundred and thirty-one rapids, made seven portages, and let down six times. The water had now fallen again some three feet, but it was still so high that it had backed up into the side canyon, where we ran the boats on account of an excellent camping-place. Sunday was spent resting here, and Thompson took observations for time. On Monday morning we expected to pack up again and proceed down the gorge, but Powell, instead of directing this course, announced that he had decided to end the river work at this point on account of the extreme high water, which would render impa.s.sable the rapid where the Rowlands and Dunn had left.

In addition, word was brought that the Shewits were in a state of war and had resolved to ambush us as we came down, a plot that had been revealed by a friendly member of the tribe to Jacob Hamblin. The ambush plan did not disturb us much, however, but the stage of water for the beginning of the Second Granite Gorge was another matter, and there was no telling when it would fall. It had been demonstrated by our winter's explorations that it would not be absolutely necessary for us to continue below this point so far as perfecting the topographic work was concerned, and as we were there for geographic purposes and not for adventure, the decision was against unnecessary risk. This decision then was, and ever since has been, a matter of great disappointment to me, for I was ready to finish up the Grand Canyon. It was with mingled feelings of regret and relief that I helped unload the boats, those faithful friends, which had carried us safely over so many miles of turbulent river, and from the constant hourly a.s.sociation had almost taken on a personality, till they seemed like members of the party.

Sadly I turned my back on their familiar lines and followed the pack-train up the narrow gorge in the direction of Kanab.

CHAPTER XIV

A Railway Proposed through the Canyons--The Brown Party, 1889, Undertakes the Survey--Frail Boats and Disasters--The Dragon Claims Three--Collapse of the Expedition--Stanton Tries the Feat Again, 1889-90--A Fall and a Broken Leg--Success of Stanton--The Dragon Still Untrammelled.

The topographic, geologic, and geodetic work of the survey did not cease with our departure from the river, but was continued in the remarkable country shown in the relief map opposite page 41, till the relationships and distances of the various features were established and reduced to black and white. That autumn, while we were engaged in these labours, Wheeler, with an elaborate outfit, entered the region, pursuing his desultory operations; and, drifting along the north side of the Grand Canyon for a little distance, he proceeded to the neighbourhood of St.

George. The following year, for some unknown purpose, he crossed the Colorado at the Paria, though he knew that Powell's parties had previously mapped this area. When the winter of 1872-73 had fairly set in we established a permanent camp at Kanab, where, under Thompson's always efficient direction, our triangulations and topographic notes were plotted on paper, making the first preliminary map of that country.

When this was ready, Hillers and I took it, and crossing the southern end of the High Plateaus, then deep with snow, we rode by way of the Sevier Valley to Salt Lake, where the map was sent on by express to Washington, whither Powell had already gone.

Seventeen years pa.s.sed away before any one again tried to navigate the Colorado. The settling of the country, the knowledge of it Powell had published, the completion of the Southern Pacific Railway to Yuma in 1877, and of the Atlantic and Pacific from Isleta to The Needles, in 1880-83, and of the Rio Grande Western across the Green at Gunnison Valley, simplified travel in the Basin of the Colorado. A new railway was then proposed from Grand Junction, Colorado, down the Colorado River, through the Canyons to the Gulf of California, a distance of twelve hundred miles. At that time coal was a difficult article to procure on the Pacific Coast, and it was thought that this "water-level"

road, crossing no mountains, would be profitable in bringing the coal of Colorado to the Golden Gate. At present coal in abundance is to be had in the Puget Sound region, and this reason for constructing a Grand Canyon railway is done away with. There is nothing to support a railway through the three hundred miles of the great gorge (or through the other two hundred miles of canyon to the Junction), except tourist travel and the possible development of mines. These are manifestly insufficient at the present time to warrant even a less costly railway, which, averaging about four thousand feet below the surface of the surrounding country, would be of little service to those living away from its immediate line, and there is small chance to live along the line. In addition the floods in the Grand Canyon are enormous and capricious. Sometimes heavy torrents from cloudbursts plunge down the sides of the canyon and these would require to be considered as well as those of the river itself. To be absolutely safe from the latter the line would probably require, in the Grand Canyon, to be built at least one hundred and twenty feet above low water, so that for the whole distance through the Marble-Grand Canyon there would seldom be room beside the tracks for even a station.

But Frank M. Brown had faith, and a company for the construction of the Denver, Colorado Canyon, and Pacific Railway was organised. Brown was the president, and in 1889 he formed an expedition to Survey the line.

On March 25th the preliminary party, consisting of F. M. Brown, F. C.

Kendrick, chief engineer, and T. P. Rigney, a.s.sistant engineer, left Denver for Grand Junction, a station on the Rio Grande Western (near the C of Colorado, State name on map, p. 51), and the next morning set the first stake for the new railway which was to cost the president so dear.

Then they bought a boat from the ferryman, and after repairing it laid in a supply of rations, engaged some men, and ran a half-mile down Grand River. Brown then left to go East in order to perfect his arrangements for this attempt to survey a railway route through the dangerous canyons. The boat party continued down Grand River to the head of the canyon, twenty-four miles, and then more slowly descended over rougher water, averaging five or six miles a day. At a distance of forty-three miles from the start the rapids grew very bad, and at one place they were forced to make a portage for twelve miles. At the end of one hundred miles they came to the little Mormon settlement of Moab. From here to the Junction of the Grand and Green was a distance of sixty miles, and the water was the same as it is just above the Junction, in the canyons of the Green, Stillwater, and Labyrinth, that is, comparatively smooth and offering no obstacles except a rather swift current. Nowhere had the cliffs risen above one thousand feet, and the river had an average fall of five feet to the mile. This was the first party on record to navigate, for any considerable distance, the canyons of Grand River. From the Junction they proceeded up the Green, towing the boat, desiring to reach the Rio Grande Western Railway crossing, one hundred and twenty miles away. By this time their rations were much diminished and they allowed themselves each day only one-half the ordinary amount, at the same time going on up the river as fast as possible, yet at the end of about eight days, when still thirty miles from their destination, they were reduced to their last meal.

Fortunately they then arrived at the cabin of some cattlemen, Wheeler Brothers, who, discovering their plight, put their own ample larder, with true Western hospitality, at the surveyors' disposal. Thus opportunely fortified and refreshed, the men reached the railway crossing the following night.

In reviewing all the early travels through this inhospitable region, one is struck by the frequent neglect of the question of food-supplies. In such a barren land, this is the item of first importance, and yet many of the leaders treated it apparently as of slight consequence. Great discomfort and suffering and death often followed a failure to provide proper supplies, or, when provided, to take sufficient care to preserve them.

On the 25th of May, 1889, Brown's party was ready and started from the point where the Rio Grande Western crosses Green River. There were sixteen men and six boats. Five of the boats were new; the sixth was the one Kendrick and Rigney had used on the Grand River trip. The chief engineer of the proposed railway was Robert Brewster Stanton, and that he was not in the very beginning given the entire management was most unfortunate, for Brown himself seems not to have had a realisation of the enormous difficulties of the task before him. But the arrangements were completed before Stanton was engaged. All the men were surprised, disappointed, dismayed, at the character of the boats Brown had provided for this dangerous enterprise, and Stanton said his heart sank at the first sight of them. They were entirely inadequate, built of cedar instead of oak, only fifteen feet long and three feet wide, and weighed but one hundred and fifty pounds each. They would have been beautiful for an ordinary river, but for the raging, plunging, tumultuous Colorado their name was suicide. Then not a life-preserver had been brought. This neglect was another shock to the members of the party and their friends.

Stanton was urged to take one for himself, but he declined to provide this advantage over the other men. Since then he has been disposed to blame Powell for not telling Brown that life-preservers are a necessity on the Colorado. It was also said that Powell declared to Brown that they were not imperative and consequently he is censured for the subsequent disasters. There was certainly a misunderstanding in this, for Powell, knowing the situation from such abundant experience, never could have said life-preservers were not necessary, though on his first trip there was but one. In this connection Thompson writes me: "The Major sent for me at once when Mr. Brown called at the office. I think we talked--we three, I mean--for half an hour, then the Major said, 'Professor Thompson knows just as much about the river as I do, and more about what is necessary for such a trip; you talk with him.' I took Mr.

Brown to my room and we had a long talk. I think the next day Mr. Brown came again. I had two interviews with him alone. I told him distinctly that life-preservers were necessary. I probably told him we did not wear them all the time, but I told him we put them on at every dangerous rapid, and I showed him the picture in the Major's Report where we were wearing them. I clearly remember telling him to have one arm above and one below the preserver. I am positive about this, for after we received word of the loss of Brown we talked it over and I recalled the conversation. He impressed me as thinking we exaggerated the dangers of the river. He made a memorandum of things I said. I think he also talked with Hillers, and I have no doubt the latter told him to take life-preservers. But he had the Report, and there is no excuse for his neglecting so indispensable an article of the outfit. He was warned over and over again to neglect no precaution. I distinctly remember that the Major told him in so many words, 'not to underestimate the dangers of the river, and to never be caught off guard.'" On a previous page I have remarked that proper boats and a knowledge of how to handle them are more important than life-preservers, but that does not mean that a party should leave the life-preservers behind. In descending the Colorado every possible precaution must be taken. The first of these is the right kind of boats, second, proper arrangement as to food-supplies, and, third, life-preservers, etc. The New York Tribune, after the collapse of this Brown expedition, quotes Powell in an interview as saying that he would not have ventured in the boats Brown selected and that he thought Brown "failed to comprehend the significant fact that nothing can get through the Colorado Canyon that cannot float. Boats are repeatedly upset and inferior boats are mashed like egg-sh.e.l.ls." Brown, undoubtedly, was rather inclined to look upon the descent somewhat lightly. Being a brave, energetic man it was hard for him to believe that this river demanded so much extra prudence and caution, when Powell had successfully descended it twice without, so far as the water was concerned, losing a man. However, the ill-fated expedition went on its way.

The boats were named the Ward, the Mason, after Brown's sons, the Mary after his wife, and the Denver and the Colorado. On arriving they were recalked. The bottoms were covered with copper. The party consisted of the following persons: Frank M. Brown, president; Robert Brewster Stanton, chief engineer; John Hislop, first a.s.sistant engineer; C. W.

Potter, T. P. Rigney, E. A. Reynolds, J. H. Hughes, W.H. Bush, Edward Coe, Edward ----, Peter Hansborough, Henry Richards, G. W. Gibson, Charles Potter, F. A. Nims, photographer, and J. C. Terry. The baggage of each man was limited to twenty-five pounds. The cargoes were packed in tight, zinc-lined boxes three feet long, with one of which each boat was provided, but these were found to be c.u.mbersome and heavy, the boats being down to within one inch of the gunwales in the water, so they were taken out and all lashed together, forming a sort of raft. This carried about one-third of all the supplies, and all the extra oars and rope, a most unwise arrangement from every point of view. The nondescript craft hampered their movements, could not be controlled, and if once it got loose everything was sure to be lost. It would have been better to throw these boxes away at once and take what the boats could carry and no more, but this was apparently not thought of. All things considered, it is a wonder this party ever got through Cataract Canyon alive. At some little rapid, after leaving the railway crossing, the first boat stove a hole in her side, but this was readily repaired and the party ran without further accident over the smooth stretches of river preceding the Junction, arriving at this latter point in four days. They were now on the threshold of Cataract Canyon. Stopping to adjust instruments and repair boats for a day, they proceeded to the battle with the cataracts on May 31st. For forty-one miles they would now have their courage, muscle, and nerve put to the full test. Stanton records seventy-five rapids and cataracts, fifty-seven of them within a s.p.a.ce of nineteen miles, with falls in places of sixteen to twenty feet. This, then, was what they were approaching with these frail craft. Two miles down they heard the roar of falling water and the place was reconnoitred, with the result that a large rapid was found to bar the way. The raft of provisions, and the boat that had towed it, were on the opposite side of the river, which afforded no chance for a camp or a portage, and a signal was made for the party to come over. A half mile intervened between this boat and the head of the rapid, but with the enc.u.mbering raft it was drawn down so dangerously near the descent that, to save themselves, the rope holding the raft was cut. Thus freed the boat succeeded in landing just at the head of the fall, but the raft went over, and that was the end of it. The sections were found scattered all the way through the canyon. The next twenty-eight miles were filled with mishaps and losses. Twelve miles farther down, the boat in which Brown, Hughes, and Reynolds were running a rapid capsized. The men clung to her for a mile and a half and then succeeded in getting ash.o.r.e. The rapids in this part are very close together, and to these men it seemed like one continuous cataract, which it very nearly is. On the same day another boat containing the cooking outfit struck a rock and went to pieces. The provisions she carried were, most of them, contributed to the maw of the dragon to follow those of the unfortunate raft. Sometimes the boats got away from the men altogether, running wild, finally lodging somewhere below to be found again with the contents missing.

Soon they had so many large holes in them that one, No. 3, had to be broken up to obtain materials for repairing the others. Thus the party, by the time they had fairly arrived at the deepest and worst portion of this splendid chasm, were in a sad plight, but a plight mainly due to the original bad planning and mismanagement, and not necessary in navigating this gorge. They seldom attempted to cross the river, working down along one side and never entering the boats at all except where absolutely necessary.* Thus they were greatly hampered in their movements. With our boats we never gave the crossing of the river a thought, and were in them continually, except where a portage was demanded. We could therefore always choose our course with as much freedom as is possible. But it must not be forgotten that the Brown party were in Cataract Canyon about the time of high water, while we pa.s.sed through at a lower stage. This would make a difference, low water being in all the canyons far safer, though the work is harder on the men and the boats. By the 15th of June all provisions had disappeared except a sack and a half of flour, presumably one hundred pounds to the sack, a little coffee, some sugar, and condensed milk. The flour was all baked and divided equally, each man receiving two and one half pounds of bread, one pound of sugar, and four ounces of coffee. At one point they fortunately found a barrel of cut loaf-sugar amongst the driftwood. This had been lost from some army-supplies crossing at Gunnison Valley up the Green, or up Grand River, and they also found, a little below this, pieces of a waggon with the skeleton of a man. These also had, of course, come from at least a hundred miles above the Junction on the Green, or sixty miles up the Grand, as no waggon could get to the river at any place nearer to Cataract Canyon. The waggon-box had probably acted as a raft, bearing its gruesome pa.s.senger all these long miles into the heart of the mighty gorge, where the dragon stored his prize, and for many a year treasured it among the deep shadows.

* Mr. Stanton has called my attention to the fact that as he was running a railway survey DOWN ONE SIDE, he wanted to keep to that side the left side.

They had still fifteen miles of Cataract Canyon and the ten miles of the more kindly Narrow before them, and Brown was now to hurry along and attempt to reach some placer mines at Dandy Crossing, near the mouth of Fremont River, where there were a few miners and where some food might be obtained. Ancient dwellings were seen all along the gorge in the side canyons, some completely ruined, others in a fair state of preservation, but the inhabitants had gone long ago, and no help could be hoped for in this direction. Most of the men now became thoroughly discouraged at the dismal prospect and wished to abandon immediately and entirely the enterprise, but Stanton was not of that mind. The difficulties showed him how hard it would be to do this part over again, and he resolved to stay and finish the work as far as possible now. His first a.s.sistant, Hislop, G. W. Gibson, the coloured cook, and the coloured steward, H. C.

Richards, volunteered to stand by him, and the next morning the eleven others pushed on, leaving a boat for these five to follow with. For six days this determined little crew worked along at the rate of about four miles a day, with a ration of one small sc.r.a.p of bread, a little coffee, and some condensed milk for breakfast and supper, and three lumps of sugar for dinner. Stanton says there was not a murmur of discontent from the men "carrying the survey over the rocks and cliffs on the side of the canyon, and handling the boat through the rapids of the river. At night, when they lay down on the sand to sleep, after a meal that was nine-tenths water and hope and one-tenth bread and coffee, it was without complaint." Relief was had on the sixth day, when they met a boat being towed up with provisions. This was near the end of Narrow Canyon. At one point in the lower part of Cataract they pa.s.sed a place where, on a rock surface about six feet above the level of the water, they saw the inscription, "D. JULIEN--1836." They thought it could have been cut only from a boat or raft, and concluded that it was done by a party of Canadians which they heard had tried to explore this country at that early day. This inscription occurs also in two other known places, near the lower part of Stillwater Canyon (four or five miles above mouth of Grand River), and farther up, about the middle of Bowknot Bend, Labyrinth Canyon, Green River. (See cut, page 352.) At Dandy Crossing, the party rested a few days, the boats were repaired, and fresh supplies of food purchased. They met near here Jack Sumner, of Powell's first party. From this place to the head of Marble Canyon, the mouth of the Paria, it is plain and easy going, at least for any one who has been through Cataract Canyon. Brown and Stanton went ahead with six men, the others coming along later with the survey.

At Dandy Crossing three of the party left the river--J. N. Hughes, J.

C. Terry, and T. P. Rigney. One man joined the party, Harry McDonald, a frontiersman and an experienced boatman. At Lee Ferry, Reynolds left and Brown went to Kanab for supplies, for Dandy Crossing was not a metropolis, and more rations were needed before venturing to enter the Grand Canyon. Only one transit instrument was left, and it was decided that Brown, Stanton, Hislop, McDonald, Hansborough, Richards, Gibson, and Nims, the photographer, should form the party to proceed, making an examination, taking notes and photographs, but not attempting an instrumental survey. Brown returned from Kanab by July 9th, and an immediate start was made with the three boats,--boats entirely unfitted for the work in Cataract Canyon, and tenfold more inadequate for the giant gorge, with its terrible descents, now before them. It seems a pity they did not realise this and leave the continuation of the work till proper boats could be had, but it appears as if they again underestimated the dangers of the river. At any rate they went bravely forward with a courage that deserved a better reward. The first ugly rapids in Marble Canyon are the two near together about ten miles below Lee's Ferry, where the prospectors met their punishment early in July, 1872. These the Brown party reached safely, and made the necessary portages, camping at the foot of the Soap Creek or lower fall. Brown appeared to feel lonely and troubled, and asked Stanton to come and sit by his bed and talk. They smoked and talked till a late hour about home and the prospect for the next day. Brown's wife and two children were at this time travelling in Europe and probably the thought of them so far away made him somewhat blue. Then, if he had before thought that this canyon would be easy, the nature of the rapids around him served to undeceive his mind. The deepening gorge, inadequate boats, and increasingly bad rapids probably affected his nerves, for that night he dreamed of the rapids, and this troubled him so much that he mentioned it to Stanton in the morning. Breakfast over, they went on. We had camped at the head of the Soap Creek Rapids, and this party at the foot. In the first rapid below, which was one of five that we easily ran before stopping for dinner, Brown's boat was capsized. He and his oarsman McDonald, were thrown out on opposite sides, McDonald into the current and Brown unfortunately into the eddy, where he was drawn under by one of the whirlpools numerous in this locality, and was never seen again. A half-minute later Stanton's boat pa.s.sed the spot, but all he saw was the lost leader's note-book on the surface of the angry waters which had so suddenly swallowed up its owner. The whole day long the party sat sadly watching the place to see if the treacherous river would give up the dead, but darkness fell in the gorge, and the Colorado dashed along toward the sea as if no boat had ever touched its relentless tide. What was one man more or less to this great dragon's maw! For three days after the others battled their way along without further disaster, and then came Sunday, when they rested. On Monday, while Stanton and Nims were making notes and photographs, the men were to finish up the lower end of the second of two very bad rapids where portages were made. Stanton's boat, containing Hansborough and Richards, was following the first boat, which had made the stretch with difficulty because the current set against the left-hand cliff. The second boat was driven against the foot of this wall under an overhanging shelf, and in the attempt to push her off she was capsized and Hansborough never rose again. Richards, who was a strong swimmer, made some distance down-stream, but before the first boat could reach him he sank, and that was the end for him. This terrible disaster, added to the death of Brown, and the foolhardiness of proceeding farther with such boats as they had, forced the decision which should have been made at Lee's Ferry. Stanton resolved to leave the river, but with the determination to return again to battle with the dragon at the earliest opportunity.

The next thing was to get out of the canyon. They searched for some side canyon leading in from the north, by means of which they might return to the world, and just above Vesey's Paradise they found it and spent their last night in Marble Canyon at that point. From the rapid where Brown was lost, to Vesey's Paradise, my diary records that on our expedition of 1872 we ran twenty-six rapids, let down four times, and made two portages, all without any particular difficulty. I mention this merely to show the difference proper boats make in navigating this river, for the season was nearly the same; Brown was there in July and we in August, both the season of high water. The night pa.s.sed by Stanton and his disheartened but courageous band at Vesey's Paradise was long to be remembered, for one of the violent thunderstorms frequent in the canyon in summer, came up. The rain fell in floods, while about midnight the storm culminated in a climax of fury. Stanton says that in all his experience in the Western mountains he never heard anything like it.

"Nowhere has the awful grandeur equalled that night in the lonesome depths of what was to us death's canyon." The next day was fair, and by two in the afternoon, July 19th, they were on the surface of the country, twenty-five hundred feet above the river, and that night reached a cattle ranch.

By November 25th of the same year (1889) the indefatigable Stanton had organised a new party to continue the railway survey. He still had confidence in the scheme, and he refused to give up. And this time the boats were planned with some regard to the waters upon which they were to be used. McDonald was sent to superintend their building at the boatyard of H. H. Douglas & Co., Waukegan, Illinois. There were three, each twenty-two feet long, the same as our boats, four and one-half feet beam, and twenty-two inches deep, and each weighed 850 pounds. They were built of half-inch oak, on plans furnished by Stanton, with ribs one-and-one-half by three-quarters of an inch, placed four inches apart, all copper fastened. Each boat had ten separate air-tight galvanised-iron compartments running around the sides, and they were so arranged that the canned goods could be put under the foot-boards for ballast. There was a deck fore and aft, and there were life-lines along the sides. They were certainly excellent boats, and while in some respects I think our model was better, especially because the two transverse bulkheads amidships in ours tended to make their sides very strong and stiff, yet these boats of Stanton's were so good that the men would be safe as long as they handled them correctly. Cork life-preservers of the best quality were provided, and