"Fifty years ago Jim Mountain, of Goose Creek, was as stout and jovial a young farmer of twenty-five, as there was in his section. No ship-launch frame-raising, logging-bee, or dance, was considered complete without him, and while his strength was almost equal to that of any two of his companions, his merry laugh was so infectious that even envy couldn't resist joining in, when public opinion pronounced him 'the best man in the county.'
"He soon married the daughter of a well-to-do farmer, and then, for the first time, it appeared that his love of 'divershin' and whiskey, had grown by what it fed on, and poor Mary dreaded the approach of market-day, as he seldom returned from the shire town altogether sober, and often not until late into the next day.
"It was in vain that his blooming Mary entreated, coaxed, cried, and threatened; he never lost his temper; often, indeed, promised amendment, but did in the end about the same as usual. At last the merchant with whom he traded, a man of some little medical knowledge, finished their business interview with the following bit of advice:—
"'Jim, it's none of my business, but you are ruining your health and breaking your wife's heart. You are not one of the kind that show how much they do drink; but no man in your district can match you,and when you do get sick, I shan't expect to see you alive.'
"'An' do ye think so, then, Mr. B.?'
"'I am almost sure of it, for Long Tom Cunningham, the big ship carpenter that you've heard your father tell of, was just such a man, and the first touch of "the horrors" carried him off.'
"'Well, sir, I'm much obliged for your good will, any how, and after my cousin Johnny McGrath has his bit of a spree, I'll try and leave it off for a while, any way.'
"Johnny McGrath's 'spree,' a fulling-frolic, came off one Saturday night, about a fortnight after this; and while the web of strong, coarse homespun cloth, which was to furnish Mac and his boys with their year's stock of outer clothing, was being duly lifted, rubbed, banged on a bench, and twisted by the strong hands of about thirty men and women, Jim led the roaring choruses, and manipulated his end of the cloth with a vigor which at once delighted and alarmed the fair weaver thereof.
"In the dancing and whiskey-drinking which followed, Jim was in his element; and it was nearly midnight before the party broke up, and he was left alone with the rest of his relative's household.
"'Well, Johnny,' said he, 'you've done the decent thing this time, and I'm glad my last spree has been at your place, for I'm going to quit grog for a while. Give me a coal for my pipe, Jane, for it's late, andI've a good five miles' of beach atween me an' home.'
"'Is the man mad?' said Jane, good-naturedly. 'Surely, John, you'll not let him out of the house to-night.'
"'No, no, Jim,' said McGrath, getting between him and the door; 'out of this you don't stir to-night; so sit down, have another drop, and tak' a quiet night's rest.'
"'Come, John, don't anger or hinder me, for I feel strangely to-night, and I must go home.'
"'Faith, that's all the more reason I have to keep you here. Come, sit down, you obstinate fellow, and don't be waking the wife up just before daybreak, only to let in a man that must be out walking all night. Confound it, would you hit me, Jim? Sure, now, you're not angered—are you?'
"'No, I'm not angry; but I'll not be treated like a child, nor lectered, neither. Let me go, I tell you, or there'll be ill blood between us. Home I'll go, I tell you!' shouted the excited man. 'Home I'm going,although the devil tried to stop me;' and flinging his cousin aside as if he were a child, he rushed out of the house, and took a narrow path which led down to the moonlit sea-beach.
"About an hour after, a despairing cry at the door awakened McGrath and his wearied household, and, opening it, they found a bruised, bloody, and literally naked man, lying senseless on the threshold. Withsome difficulty they recognized the features of Mountain, and it was broad daylight before he came to himself. His story was short, but strange.
"'I took the path down to the beach, thinking to wade the narrow run at Eel Pond, and so save a mile or two of road. It was light as day, and I went along well enough, though I felt sad-like, an' as if somethin' were about to happen me.
"'It's an unchancy place there, near the pond, where the great san'-hill blew over the birch grove an' killed the trees; and last night, as I went through them, the tall, white, broken trunks seemed almost alive. Why, man, I'd have sworn that some of them had a dozen faces grinnin' and laughin', and I felt all the while as if I was a fool; for, whenever I stopped an' looked close, there was nought but knots, an' bark, an' gnarly limbs. Still, although I'd been through them a thousan' times, I felt afraid, for it seemed to me as if there was somebody near methat I couldn't see.
"'Well, at last I got through the dead grove, an' came to the san'-plain wher' the ribs of the old ship are stannin', an' I got to thinkin' what she might hev' bin, fer none o' us know how many years she lay in the san' before the great gale swept the san' off of her white bones. I looked at her close as I passed, an' although I saw nauthin' but her ribs, she made me think o' a 'natomy; an' I looked all around, but saw noone, an' went down into the water, hevin' first ta'en off my shoes.
"'The cool water did feel nice; an' as I stepped ashore, I whistled up "The Devil's Dream," an' struck out across the beach, when, looking back, I saw, between me an' the stream, a man who made at me with terrible ferceness. I can tell you nauthin' about him, 'cept that his clothes were black an' strange, his face dark an' savage, an' his eyes almost like fire. I had no doubt that he meant me harm, an' as he cam' up, I struck out wi' all my strenth. Ye mind when I hit big Jack Ready, an' thought I should have to flee the country. Well, I hithimtwicet as hard, an' he never stopped, but came in an' clinched. My God! I'm breathless now wi' the squeezin' I got there. I'm afraid of no man standin' within twenty mile, at ayther Ingin hug, collar an' ilbow, or side-hold, but I was like a child in its grip.
"'Still I fought on, though the san' flew into the air; an' through it, like a fog, I saw the old wrack an' the dead grove, an' the fiery eyes that glared into mine, an' I felt the grasp of a han' that seemed to burn into my hip; an' then I knew I couldn't fight fair wi'that. I drew my knife an' opened it, an' three times I thrust it to the hilt into the side o' the black man, or devil, an' he only glared at me fercer, an' took a stronger hold on my hip. Just at this moment I felt the cool water at my feet, an' wi' one tremendous effort, I whirled myself into the stream to fight it out there. A moment I lay on my back in the shallow stream, an' then I rose to my feet. I was alone wi' nauthin' o' what had happened, save the open knife in my han', the trampled beach, an' my torn an' ruined clawthin'.
"'Then I remembered that old McGregor used to say that nauthin' bad could pass runnin' water, an' I thought I'd get back to ye if I could. I remember somethin' of tearin' through the lonely beach an' blasted woods, of seein' more faces in the trees, an' hearin' quick footsteps on my track, but I remember nauthin' more. Look at my hip, will you, wi' the cannle there? It hurts me awfully.'
"The candle fell from Jane's shaking hands, but was caught by her husband before it was extinguished.
"'As God lives, ye have spoken the truth, for there is the mark o' the devil's grip;' and greatly to the terror of all, there appeared on the hip of the exhausted man the black imprint of a thumb and four fingers.
"My informant told me that, fifty years later, after Mountain had raised a large family of children, and passed a life subsequently innocent of his youthful excesses, the same indelible marks were left to tell of the terrible conflict of that memorable night; and none of his neighbors ever doubted the literal truth of his strange story, save one.
"That man was B., who never undeceived Mountain, or tried to do so; but in detailing the story to my father, closed the recital thus: 'I have always thought that he had an attack of delirium tremens, and that he fancied the assault of the goblin; for I forgot to tell you that next morning they followed his track, finding his shoes and fragments of his attire on the opposite side of the run, which was torn up, with the marks of a terrible struggle and many feet. Probably he tore off his own clothes in the fancied fight, drew his knife, struck at "an air-born fantasy," and was finally partially restored by falling into the water, after which he completed his exhaustion by running back to the house.'
"'Have you seen the marks?' asked my father.
"'Yes; I saw them at the time,' slowly answered Mr. B.
"'Were they as described?'
"'Very like the grip of a hand; one dark impression on the back of the left hip, and four smaller ones in a row on the front,' said B.
"'And how do you account for those?' asked my father.
"Mr. B. hesitated, and then answered candidly, 'I don't know what to think of that myself. I have sometimes thought that a fall among the many roots and fallen trunks of trees, which then strewed that desolate place, may have caused such injuries; but why did they remain apparent long after discolorations of such a nature should have disappeared? Perhaps imagination may have had its effect, and made the impressions indelible. But if thereisany truth in old-world stories, few places fitter for such horrors can be found than was that drear waste of sand, destitute of all signs of man's proximity, bounded on one side by a blackened forest, on the other by the sailless sea, and containing only the whitened ribs of a long-forgotten wreck. None of the folk around here, sir, join in my doubts as to the reality of Mountain's fight with the devil.'"
As Ben closed, a sound of sleigh-bells came up the road, and Lund opened the door, at which appeared a light sleigh driven by one of Risk's sons.
"You and uncle are wanted in town at once. L. has sent you this letter, and says—" And he whispered a few words in his father's ear.
"I came out to-night, for the ice is getting very bad, and a horse was lost crossing the North River at Duckendorff's to-day. It is freezing to-night, but the moon shows at times through the clouds, and we can get home before one o'clock."
An hour later, Risk and the elder Davies bade a regretful farewell to their young companions. "I am sorry," said the former, "that as yet we have had no story from you, La Salle; but I hope to see you at my house in C., and hear it there when your trip is over. Take care of yourself, and make Lund out afalse prophet. Good night, captain, you old croaker;" and the sleigh disappeared in the shadows of the forest-covered lane which led to the beach.
"Well, boys," said La Salle, "the best of our evenings are over, and we must look to boat and gun for our best sport."
"We must have your story, though," said Ben.
"O, of course; but not to-night, for we have much to do to-morrow, to get our boats down for the open-water shooting."
With this no one disagreed; and half an hour later, all were fast asleep.
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The next morning, the boats, which were all provided with runners, were drawn to the bar, and Carlo's sled carried, besides the lunch and ammunition of the party, a dozen wooden duck decoys, weighted and roped, for open water.
Davies and Creamer gave up their box and outfit to one-armed Peter, as they were about to try their new paddle-boat. She was duly launched, and Ben placed himself forward, between the paddle-boxes, ready to do the steering and shooting, while Creamer acted as the motive power, transmitted by a belt and pulleys. Although somewhat high out of water, she moved off easily, and made little noise when running slowly; and taking the first of the ebb, the pair moved eastward into the opening ice.
George and Ben Lund, in their new-fashioned centre-wheel, made poorer progress, but hurried out "to get ahead of the skimmin'-dish," as they styled La Salle's light, shallow craft. He let them go, andstationing George and Regnar in the ice-boat, put out his floating decoys in the nearest waters, and, cutting slabs of ice, built a high wall around his own boat, which he drew up on the ice. Carlo incontinently plunged into the straw under the half-deck of the larger boat, and soon all was ready for the expected birds.
Meanwhile, upon the stranded berg which lay immovable off the southern face of the island, gathered the new comers, whose Bacchanal approach has of late been chronicled. Had they had any outfit of decoys, and known how to use them, they could not but have had good sport; and even as it was, so many birds passed and repassed them, that a good shot could not have failed to secure at least a few ducks. But, however unfortunate in securing any trophies, they failed not in the weight or constancy of their fire.
Not a flock passed within a quarter of a mile but received a volley; not a loon that showed his distant head above water but went down under the fire of a platoon; and not a frightened duck darted overhead but heard the air behind him torn with whistling shot enough to have exterminated his whole tribe.
From time to time a lull in the storm would occur, and then peals of laughter would come across the intervening waters; and looking up, the irritated sportsmen generally beheld a tableau of inverted pocket-flasks, and feats of strength with a rapidly lightening ale-keg. But, although our friends bore the proximityof these city gunners with great patience for a while, an event soon occurred which brought matters to a focus.
A flock of geese were seen approaching from the eastward, and La Salle, cautioning the boys, crouched down in his boat and "called." Peter followed suit, and so did the party on the bergs. The flock swung within a hundred yards of Peter, who held his fire, and then, seeing the floating decoys, swung round to leeward of them, and setting their wings, scaled slowly in, passing within about two hundred and fifty yards of the party on the berg.
Of course they opened fire at once, with shot of all sorts and sizes, doing no execution but sending a bullet from one of their guns straight over the heads of La Salle and his friends. A flock or two of ducks and brent made similar attempts to alight, but every shot was spoiled in the same way.
La Salle was indignant, and the boys were at a white heat, when, without any birds being between them, the report of a heavily charged gun was heard, and a few heavy shot struck the ice near the boats, while the drunken crowd yelled in triumph as the water, by its ripples, showed the great distance attained by the shot.
"I'll shoot, too, the next chance, and so may you, boys. Elevate well, and fire when the birds are between us and the berg," said La Salle.
It was not long before three geese attempted toscale in as the others had done, and were fired at as before, the bullet this time striking the water in line of the boat, and whistling a few feet above it. The birds, somewhat frightened, got within a hundred yards before swinging off, and all three discharged their large shot simultaneously. A single goose fell with a broken wing, and Carlo, springing out of the boat, plunged into the water. Charley watched the effect of his shot on the party on the berg. One stood just then in bold relief against the distant horizon, displaying the broader part of his physique to view while taking an observation with a brandy-bottle. Suddenly a faint yell was heard, the bottle dropped on the berg, the hands that had held it frantically clutched at the coat-tails of the victim, and an agonizedpas seultold that the "Baby" had well avenged the wrongs of her owner.
Half an hour later, the party had evacuated their position, bag and baggage, "carrying their wounded," who, from the stern-sheets of their boat, shook his fist in savage pantomime at the innocent La Salle and his amused companions. Some weeks later he learned that a single large shot had, without piercing the cloth, raised a contusion about the size of a pigeon's egg, on muscles whose comfort, for a fortnight after, emphatically tabooed the use of chairs, and made a feather bed an indispensable adjunct to repose.
After a long chase Carlo secured his bird, and swimming to the nearest shore, ran around the edgeof the ice, in a way which showed his appreciation of the difference between running, and swimming against a five-knot tide. Securing the bird, he was allowed to shake himself, and was then called into the boat, from which a good lookout was kept, as there now existed some chance for good management and skilful shooting.
The first victims were a flock of black ducks, which with the usual readiness to decoy of these birds, had flown in and lit among the decoys before La Salle could warn his boys, who had their backs turned at the time. They managed, however, to hear him, and poured in a sharp volley, killing four in the water, while La Salle picked a brace out on the wing.
Regnar, who had a breech-loader, got ready in time to kill a brace of Moniac duck out of a flock which swept past uttering their singularly desolate call of "Ouac-a-wee, ouac-a-wee!" and by the time these birds were retrieved, several faint reports to the eastward were heard, and a vast cloud of geese of both kinds rose just above the floating ice, and swept up towards the bar. Most of these settled down among the floes; but one large flock of brent swept over Peter, in answer to his almost perfect calling. The leaders of the flock were in the very act of alighting when he fired, and a dozen, at least, lay dead when the white smoke of his volley cleared away.
"I must have one turn with my float," said La Salle, after the three had taken lunch and had their share ofa pint of hot, strong coffee prepared in the Crimean lantern. "The tide will soon turn, and I shall work out into the ice and come up with it. You, boys, must look out for the flying birds, and take in the floating decoys before they are crushed or lost."
Launching the light boat, he fitted his rowlocks, and with a light pair of sculls rowed for an hour out into the Gulf, taking care to keep well to the eastward. At the end of that time he unshipped his sculls, took in his rowlocks, fitted his sculling-oar into its muffled aperture, and getting himself comfortably settled, grasped his oar with his left hand, and with his eyes just peering over the gunwale, let the light boat drift with the returning tide, and its fantastic burden of water-worn congelations.
He had not floated two hundred yards, before a change of the ice revealed a small flock of seven geese, quietly feeding along the border of a low piece of field ice. Cocking his gun and laying it ready to hand, La Salle drifted nearer and nearer, keeping barely enough headway to steer her, bow on. The gander, a noble bird, suddenly raised his head to gaze at the advancing boat. All the rest instantly raised theirs ready for immediate flight. The anxious sportsman lay motionless, ceasing the play of his scull, and the birds, gradually relaxing their necks, turned and swam rapidly away.
Still, La Salle tried not to pursue, and the gander, finding that the boat did not get any nearer, stopped,looked, started, stopped, and went to feeding again, followed in all things, of course, by his companions. Then the delicate oar began its noiseless sweep, and gradually the sharp prow crept nearer, passing, one by one, sluggish floes and fantastic pinnacles, until again the wary leader raised his head as if in perplexity and doubt. There, to be sure, was the bit of ice he had taken fright at before, nearer than ever; but it floated as harmlessly as the cake just beside it, from whose edges he had gleaned rootlets of young and tender eel-grass not half an hour ago. So the poor overmatched bird doubtless argued; and ashamed of his fears, which were but too well founded, and doubtful of his instincts, which he should have trusted, the gander turned again to the little eddy of sea-wrack amid which, with soft guttural love-calls, he summoned his harem to many a dainty morsel.
Triumphantly shone the deadly eye which glittered beneath the snowy cap; noiselessly swung the ashen oar, and as unerringly set as Destiny, and remorseless as Death, the knife-like bow slid through the black waters. One hundred, ninety, eighty, seventy, fifty, forty yards only, divide the doomed birds from the boat, and the white gunwale is hidden from their view by the interposition of the very floe along whose edge they are feeding. Steadily La Salle drives the prow gently against the ice, then drops his oar, and grasps his heavy gun. He hazards a glance: the birds, scarce thirty yards away, are unsuspectingly feeding in aclose body; he rises to a sitting posture, raises his gun, and whistles shrilly and long. Instantly the birds raise their heads, gathering around their leader. Bang! The thunder-roll of the report, reverberating amid the ice, is the death-sentence of the flock. Not one escaped; the distance was too short, the aim too sure, the charge ofmitrailletoo close and heavy.
A flying shot at a flock of eider duck added a male, with snowy crest, and three plump, brown females; and a successful approach to a small flock of brent made up fifteen birds under the half-deck of the little craft. It was almost dark when, with little time to spare, La Salle came flying through the fast-coming ice, and dashed across the narrow lane of water, between the immovable covering of the bar, and the advancing, tide-borne ice-islands.
The boys had just drawn in their decoys, and loaded their sled with the birds taken from the boat, besides three geese and a brent, which they had shot during his absence. The other boats had already landed, and been drawn in far up on the ice. Regnar did not know if the centre-wheel had got anything, but Davies and Creamer had four geese, five brent, and a black duck. Peter had gone home with a sled-load of fowl, and, in short, the day had been generally satisfactory all round.
That night, however, all were tired, wet, and half blind with the ceaseless glare of the each-day-warmer sun; nor did any care to spend in listening to idle tales, the hours which might better be given to sleep. Such, for more than a week longer, was their experience, varied only by a few brief frosts, during which, however, the hot coffee made in their lantern-stove was unanimously voted "just the thing."
"Snow-blindness" set in, and Ben had once or twice to leave the ice; while George Waring experienced several attacks, and had a linen cloth full of pulverized clay—the best application known—kept in the boat for emergencies.
By the middle of the next week, a narrow channel had opened up to the city; and Creamer and Davies, piling their decoys beside their deserted box, and leaving Lund to haul them to the shelter of his woods, took the first flood, and paddled briskly homeward, leaving Indian Peter and La Salle in the latter'sstand; while Regnar, who had become a proficient with the small boat, struck out for the broken ice lying to the east.
"Good by, Charley; when shall I tell them to expect you?" said Ben, as he started his wheels, and the boat, heavily laden with fowl, moved northward.
"O, at the end of the week, at farthest. Much obliged to you for taking those birds. I'll have a load Saturday. Good by."
"Good by," said Hughie and Ben, once more; and then they bent to their task, churning into foam the rippleless surface, which bore them on its swift but unnoticeable tide towards home, leaving behind their comrade, his savage companion, and their boyish associates, to experience adventures without parallel in all the strange hunting-lore of those northern seas.
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About midday, Captain Lund drove down on the ice to draw up the boat owned by his sons; after which he was to return a second time for the decoys and shooting-box of the homeward-bound sportsmen. The floe was fast wasting under the April sun, and his horses' iron-shod hoofs sank deep into the snow-ice, which the night-frosts had left at morn as hard as flint.
He drove with his habitual caution, sounding more than one suspicious place with the axe, and at last came to a long tide-crack, through which the open water showed clear, and which seemed to divide the floe as far as the eye could reach.
"I come none too soon," said the deliberate pilot; "and I must warn La Salle not to trust his boat here another night."
"Well, captain, what think you of the weather?" asked La Salle, as the shaggy pony and rough sled halted near the boat.
"It looks a little cloudy, but I guess nothing morethan a fog may be expected to-night. You had better have your boat ready to get ashore right away; for the ice, though heavy enough, is full of cracks, and will go off with the first northerly gale which comes with the ebb."
"Well, I'll be getting the boat clear of the ice, and you may come for us the last of all."
And Lund, driving down the bar to his own boat, left La Salle busily at work, with axe and shovel, clearing away the well-packed ice which had for the last three weeks concealed the sides of the goose-boat.
By the time that Lund had hooked on to his own boat and driven up again, a large heap of ice and snow had been thrown out; but the runners were evidently frozen down, and the boat was immovable.
"I shan't have her clear until you get through with Davies's outfit; but I guess we shall be ready for you then."
Lund drove on, dragging the heavy boat up to the beach, and then concluded to haul it up the bank, above the reach of the increasing tides, and the danger of being crushed by the ice. As he cast off her rope, he felt a snow-flake on the back of his hand. Before he reached the ice, they were falling thick and noiselessly.
"I must hurry; for there's no time to lose. The tide is just at its turn; and if the wind comes fromthe north, the boys will be adrift. Come; get up, Lightfoot. G'lang! Whoop! Go it!"
Already the rising wind began to whirl the thick-falling flakes in smothering wreaths, and Lund groaned in spirit as, following the tracks of his last trip, the stanch little horse galloped down the ice.
"I am afraid this is the end of my vision; for the ice won't be long in breaking up now, and those boys are out in that d—n little craft."
And Lund in his perturbation swore and cursed after the manner of "sailor-men" generally; that is, when they most need to pray.
Suddenly the little horse hesitated, relaxed into a trot, snorted, reared, and stopped, wheeling half around, with the sleigh-runners diagonally across the half-effaced track, which came to an unexpected stop. Lund saw at once that another rod would have plunged horse and man into the Gulf; the ice-fields had parted, and the boats and their occupants were floating away at the mercy of the winds and waves.
"Let's see," said Lund; "the wind is nor'-east, and the tide will set them in some, too. So, if the gale does not shift, that'll carry them past McQuarrie's Point, and I'll hail them then, and let them know where they are. God grant that they've got the boat clear; for once away from the lee of the island, their craft would never find land in such a squall as this. "Come, Lightfoot," he added, as he sprang upon the sled, and brought his leathern reins smartly acrossthe animal's back, "there's four lives on our speed; so go your fastest, poor fellow! and God help that we may not be too late."
Meanwhile La Salle and Peter had viewed with no little anxiety the sudden overclouding of the sky, or rather the heavy curtain of vapor which seemed to descend mysteriously from the zenith, rather than to gather from beyond the horizon.
"I no like snow; wind no good this time; tide too high. Spose Lund come, must get boat across crack yonder any way."
And the one-armed hunter plied the light axe with a haste which showed no small amount of anxiety.
The boat was soon clear, but the snow was falling so fast that they could scarcely see to windward at all, and no part of the land was visible. Again the Indian spoke, and a new cause of anxiety was stated.
"Where sposum boys this time? See boat little hile ago. No see any now. They no see hice. Spose shootum big gun call them hin?"
La Salle took the heavy piece, and was about to discharge it to leeward, when, from the very air above their heads, a voice seemed to call on them by name, "La Salle, Charley, Peter, ahoy!"
La Salle dropped the butt of his gun, and listened. Again the voice sounded apparently nearer than before. "Charley, Peter, ahoy!"
"That voice ole man Lund. I know it; but whatfor sposum voice there? Then track go that way. Ole man lose way, spose."
"Perhaps he has fallen in, Peter. Come, let's go."
And catching a rope near him, and forgetting to lay down the cumbrous gun, Charley ran towards the incessant and evidently-agonized cries, Peter following with an axe and a light fish-spear.
Scarcely had the runners gone a hundred yards before they stopped in dismay. At their feet the ice-field ended abruptly, and scarce a hundred yards away rose a wall of red sandstone, on whose summit stood Lund, peering down into the whirl of snow-flakes. His quick eye espied them, and he shouted his last advice.
"Launch your boat at once; don't wait. Keep under the lee. Don't try to save anything but your lives. Keep the wind at your backs in rowing, and mind the set of the tide eastward."
"Ay, ay! I understand. We're waiting for the boys!" shouted La Salle.
"I can't hear a word," called out Lund across the rapidly-increasing space.
"Give me that spear, Peter," said La Salle.
And snapping off the tiny barbs, he drew from his pocket a pencil, and wrote as follows on the slender rod of white maple:—
"We know our danger, but have no oars; for the boys have not returned. Unless they do so soon,shall stick to the ice until the weather clears. Look for us along the coast if the storm lasts."Love to all.La Salle."
"We know our danger, but have no oars; for the boys have not returned. Unless they do so soon,shall stick to the ice until the weather clears. Look for us along the coast if the storm lasts.
"Love to all.La Salle."
Holding up the rod to be seen by Lund, he placed it in the muzzle of his piece, and motioned to the captain to watch its flight. The pilot stepped behind a tree, and La Salle aimed at the face of a large snow-drift near him. The report echoed amid the broken ledges, the long white arrow sped through the air, and stuck in the snow close to the tree. Lund picked it up, and bent over it a moment; then bowed his head, as if assuring them of his approval of its contents.
Already the floe had moved into rough water, and the short waves raised by the increasing gale began to throw their spray far up on the ice. The snow-squall gathered fury, and La Salle, waving his hand, pointed heavenward, while Peter, knowing but too well the danger of their position, sank on his knees, and began the simple prayers of his faith. Lund saw them fade from view into the sleety veil that hid the waste of waters, and groaning in spirit, turned homeward.
"In half an hour no boat on the island can reach them, even if men could be found to face certain death in a snow-storm out on the open Gulf."
Peter rose to his feet, apparently almost hopeless.
"Good by, Saint Peter's! Good by, Trois Lieues'Creek! Good by, Lund! Poor Peter no more shootum wild goose here."
"Come, Peter, don't give it up so," said La Salle. "We must find the boys and get their oars and boat, and then well try and see what we can do to get ashore."
Peter's eyes brightened a little, and walking around the edge of the floe, they came, in the course of twenty minutes, to the boys, snugly seated under their inverted boat, in a hollow of a large berg, which, until that day, had never floated with the tide.
"Come, boys, this won't do. We're adrift, and getting well out into the Gulf. Turn over your boat, put everything into her, and let's try what we can do with the big boat."
In desperate haste the four took down the light craft, threw in the oars and guns, and dashed across the quarter of a mile which lay between them and the windward side of the ice. In about five minutes they reached the large boat; but all saw at a glance that little less than a miracle was needed to carry them safe ashore.
The snow was falling thick and fast, the wind driving it in eddying clouds, and amid it could be seen at times the white caps of the increasing surges as they broke on the edge of the floe. It was evident that it would be madness to attempt to leave their present position; yet all stood silent a moment, asif unwilling to be the first to confess the painful truth.
At last La Salle broke the silence. "It's no use, boys; we must stay here all night. And first, let's get both boats down to the berg, for this floe may go to pieces any time; but that is all of twenty feet thick, and will stand a good deal yet. Come, pile in the decoys and tools, and let's get under cover as soon as we can."
The decoys of iron and wood, and even those of fir-twigs, of which they had added some three dozen, were piled into the boats, and taking hold at the painter of the largest, they soon trundled the heavy load to the thickest part of the field.
"Sposum we get Davies's box and 'coys too. Then we makum camp, have plenty wood too. Spose field break up, loosem sartin," said Peter.
"You're right. Come, boys. We don't know how long we may be on this ice-field, and we shall need all the shelter we can get, and fuel too."
It was nearly an hour before they found the box and its pile of decoys, but the box had been furnished with rude runners, and being already clear of the ice, there was no delay in what was evidently becoming a dangerous proximity to the sea; for that edge of the ice was already breaking up, as the rollers broke over it, bearing it down with the weight of water. Sunset must have been close at hand when the partyarrived, wet, weary, and almost despairing, at the berg.
"Now, boys," said La Salle, "we must build our house at once, for no one can tell how long this storm may last. Luckily we have two shovels and two axes. Peter and I will cut away the ice, and you two will pile up fragments, and clear away the snow and rubbish."
Choosing a crater-like depression on the summit of the berg, La Salle laid out a parallelogram about eight feet square, and motioning to Peter, proceeded to sink a square shaft into the solid ice, which, at first a little spongy, rapidly became hard and flinty. Aided by the natural shape of the berg, in the course of an hour a cavity had been cleared out to the depth of about six feet. Over this was inverted the box belonging to Davies, and this was kept in place by fragments of ice piled around and over it, after which the interstices were filled with wet snow, and the whole patted into a firm, impermeable mound.
On the leeward side the wall had been purposely left thin, and through this a narrow door, about three feet high, was cut into the excavation. Lighting his lantern, La Salle stepped inside, finding himself in a gloomy but warm room, about nine feet high in the walls, and eight feet square. Taking the dryest of the fir decoys, he cut the cords which bound them together, and laying the icy branches of their outer covering on the bare ice, soon formed a non-conducting carpet of fir-twigs, of which the upper layers were nearly dry.
The whole party then entered, carefully brushing from their clothes and boots as much of the snow as possible, and, seating themselves, for the first time rested from incessant exertion amid the furious peltings of a driving north-east snow-storm.
La Salle motioned to the rest to place their guns in a nook near the door, and taking the boiler of the lantern, filled it with snow, and placed it above the flame. Regnar, noticing this, went out and brought in the rude chest containing the remnants of their little stock of coffee, and the basket with what was left of the day's lunch.
In the former were found a few matches, about a half pound of coffee, perhaps a pound of sugar, a box and a half of sardines, and two or three dozen ship's hard-bread. In the basket were left several slices of bread, a junk of corned beef weighing about two pounds, and some apples and doughnuts.
In a short time the tiny boiler, which held about a pint, was full of boiling water, to which La Salle added some coffee, and soon each had a small but refreshing draught, which helped wonderfully to restore their usual warmth and vigor of circulation. From the lunch-basket, whose contents had remained untouched all day, a slight meal was taken, and then the remainder of the provisions put carefully away,although a second cup of coffee was left preparing in the lantern for possible contingencies.
La Salle looked at his watch—it was nearly eight o'clock.
"We are now well down off Point Prime, and are probably under the lee of other ice, as we no longer feel the tossing of the sea. The boats are all ready for use, but it is not likely we shall need them to-night, unless, indeed—Let us hold a council of war, and decide at once on our course of action."
Top
d
Drawing his coat tightly around him, La Salle first drew aside the rubber blanket which had been hung up for a door, and crawled out into the storm. The snow still fell heavily, but although the wind blew very hard, few drifts were formed, owing to the wet and heavy nature of the large, soft flakes, although at times a flurry of sharp, stinging hail rattled against the boats and the roof of the ice-chamber.
As nearly as he could judge, the wind was north-east, or perhaps a point or two south of that, for at times there came warmer gusts, as if the wind veered to a milder quarter. The roar of the sea could be plainly heard, but evidently far up to windward, and there was little doubt that they need have no apprehensions from that source at present.
Re-entering he found his friends anxiously awaiting his report on the aspect of things outside, and he plunged at once into the gist of the matter before them.
"I see no reason to expect any change in our situation until the tide turns, which will be in about an hour. I can notice no change in the wind, nor do I think we have shifted our relative position to its course. Should the storm decrease towards morning, we shall probably find ourselves up the straits, in the vicinity of the capes. Only one danger can possibly assail us, and that is being ground to pieces on the New Brunswick shore. We must keep a watch to-night, commencing at about twelve o'clock. Regnar, will you keep the first watch of an hour and a half, and then call me?"
"Yes, sir; all right. I wake any time, and I know what 'nip' means. We must not get caught napping if that happens."
"Can't we get ashore and off of this horrid floe, if we strike on the other shore?" asked Waring, a little dolorously.
"I'm afraid not, my dear George. The straits here, nearly thirty miles wide, converge to about twelve at the capes; and this terrible gale, although we feel it scarcely at all in the heart of this berg, will drive us with the rising ebb, at a velocity little less than ten miles an hour, through that narrow, choked pass, bordered by the ice-cliffs which form, on the shallows every winter, to the height of from ten to twenty feet above the water."
"Should this berg be driven against the verge of these immovable cliffs, our only resource will be totake to our boats and retreat farther off on the floes; for a single mishap in crossing the terrible chasm which borders the irresistible course of this great ice-stream, would consign us all to irremediable destruction. I propose that we thank God for his mercies thus far, and implore his aid in the future. Then we may lie down secure in His protection, and gather new strength for whatever may be before us."
Thus saying, La Salle knelt, and in solemn but unfaltering tones repeated the short but inimitable prayer which embodies the needs of every petitioner. Peter crossed himself at the close, and broke out,—
"I feel 'fraid, all time till now. I hear Lund see ghost. I think we never get back. Now I feel sure all go right, and I worry like woman no more."
"Thank you, Peter. I shall depend on good service from you; and I may say that I have little doubt of landing somewhere to-morrow, if the weather clears so that we can see. Come, Regnie, get the rest of those dry decoys out of the boat, and we'll turn in for two or three hours, when you must take the first watch."
Regnar brought in about twenty bundles more of fir-twigs, which were piled against the wall so as to form a kind of slanting pillow, against which the party might rest their backs and heads in a half-sitting posture, without being chilled by the ice-wall of their narrow dormitory. Waring drew his seal-skin cap over his ears, turned up his wide coat-collar of thesame costly fur, and placed himself next to Peter, who, as the worst clad of the party, wrapped himself in his dingy blanket, and seated himself at the back of the hut. Regnar, in his Canadian capote, was next, and La Salle with difficulty found room between himself and the door for his faithful dog, whose natural warmth had already dried his long fur, and made him a very welcome bed-fellow under such circumstances. Thus disposed, it was not long before they all fell asleep; and at twelve o'clock, La Salle, only half awake, gave Regnar his watch, and saw the resolute boy go out into the storm to commence his lonely vigil.
Scarcely feeling that he had more than got fairly to sleep again, he was again awakened by Regnar, who said in a low voice, "'Tis two o'clock, master; but I would not waken you if I did not think that the floe has shifted sides, for we are no longer under a lee. I hear too, at times, cracking and grinding of the ice, and I think we are not far from shore."
La Salle hurriedly went out. The wind blew into his very teeth, as he emerged from the narrow door; but it seemed no warmer or colder, and the snow fell much the same as before. Near them, through the storm, another berg of equal height with their own seemed to appear at times, and the crash of falling and breaking ice arose on all sides. Still, for an hour nothing could be seen, until between three and four the snow gave place to a sleety rain, and the watcherssaw that they were passing with frightful rapidity a line of jagged ice-cliffs, not two hundred yards away. La Salle called his companions, and they watched for nearly an hour in constant expectation of having to take to their boat.
The pressure was tremendous, and on every side floes heaped up their debris on each other, and pinnacles forced into collision were ground into common ruin. Now shut out from view in darkness and storm, and now close at hand in the multitudinous shiftings of the ice, the immovable and gigantic buttresses of the ice-pool ground into powder acres of level floe, and bergs containing hundreds of thousands of tons of ice. Along that terrible line of impact rolled and heaved a chaos of mealy sludge and gigantic fragments, while from time to time a mass of many tons would be thrown, like a child's plaything, high up amid the debris already heaped along the inaccessible shore. Half a dozen times the startled voyagers seized their boat to drag her down from the berg, as the shore-ice gnawed into the sides of their narrowing ice-field.
At last a move appeared inevitable. The distance between their refuge and the shore was less than fifty yards, and in the gray of the morning they saw castle after castle crushed off by this fearful attrition, while high above their heads rose the ruin-strewed and inhospitable ice-foot.
"Stand by, lads, to move the boats, when I givethe word. Look, Regnar! What is that above the cliff?"
"That a light-house, I think. Guess that on Cape Torment. No light there in winter; not many vessels here then."
"Yes, we are passing the capes, and not a mile distant is the hostelry of Tom Allan. Well, we can't land, that's certain; and as we can't, I hope we shall soon get into a wider channel. How the trees fly past! Ah, here the pressure lessens; we shall soon be above the narrows, and if the tide only serves—Good Heaven! what is that?"
An eddy seemed to catch the floe as he spoke, and whirling like a top, it brought between it and the shore a fantastically-shaped berg, at least twenty-five feet high. The "nip" was but momentary; but the lofty shaft and its floating base cracked like a mirror, the huge fabric fell into ruins, and one of its pieces, striking the smaller boat, crushed it into utter uselessness.
La Salle viewed the wreck of his little bark ruefully a moment.
"Well, the worst is over, and we are fortunate in losing so little, for it might have struck the larger boat, and that would have been indeed a loss. Come, boys, we have passed Cape Torment; let us pick some of those birds and get breakfast, for we shan't land this day, with an easterly gale hurrying the ice-pack thus to the north-west."