When Bob and the two Eskimos sailed theMaid of the Northup the bay from Fort Pelican it was found advisable to run the schooner to an anchorage at Kenemish where she could lie with less exposure to the wind than at Wolf Bight. The moment she was made snug and safe Bob went ashore to Douglas Campbell's cabin, where he learned that his old friend had gone to Wolf Bight early that morning to spend the day.
The lad's impatience to reach home would brook no waiting, and so, leaving Netseksoak and Aluktook in charge of the vessel, he proceeded alone in a small boat, reaching there as we have seen early in the afternoon.
What to do with the schooner now that she had brought him safely to his destination was a problem that Bob had not been able to solve. The vessel was not his, and it was plainly his duty to find her owner and deliver the schooner to him, but how to go about it he did not know.That evening when the candles were lighted and all were gathered around the stove, he put the question to the others.
"I'm not knowin' now who th' schooner belongs to," said he, "an' I'm not knowin' how t' find th' owner, I'm wonderin' what t' do with un."
"Tis some trader owns un I'm thinkin'," Mrs. Gray suggested.
"'Tis sure some trader," agreed Bob, "and the's a rare lot o' fur aboard she an' the's enough trader's goods t' stock a Post. Mr. Forbes were tellin' me I should be gettin' salvage for bringin' she t' port safe."
"Aye," confirmed Douglas, "you should be gettin' salvage. 'Tis th' law o' th' sea an' but right. We'll ha' t' be lookin' t' th' salvage for un lad."
"But how'll we be gettin' un now?" Bob asked, much puzzled. "An' how'll we be findin' th' owner?"
"Th' owner," explained Douglas, "will be doin' th' findin' hisself I'm thinkin'. But t' get th' salvage th' schooner'll ha' t' be took t' St. Johns. Now I'm not knowin' but I could pilot she over. 'Tis a many a long year since I werethere but I'm thinkin' I could manage un, and we'll make up a crew an' sail she over."
"We'll be needin' five t' handle she right," said Bob. "'Twere wonderful hard gettin' on wi' just me an' th' two huskies. We'll sure need five."
"Aye, 'twill need five of us," assented Douglas, "I'm thinkin' now Dick an' Ed an' Bill would like t' be makin' th' cruise an' seein' St. Johns, an' we has th' crew right here."
The three men were not only willing to go but delighted with the prospect of the journey. They had never in their lives been outside the bay and the voyage offered them an opportunity to see something of the great world of which they had heard so much.
"I'll be wantin' t' go home first," said Dick, "an' so will Ed, but we'll be t' Kenemish an' ready t' start in three days."
"'Twill be a fine way t' take th' maid t' th' mail boat so th' doctor can take she with un," suggested Richard.
"An' father an' mother an' Bessie can go t' th' mail boat with us," spoke up Emily, from her couch. "Oh, 'twill be fine t' have you all go t' th' mail boat with me!"
And so this arrangement was made and carried out. On the appointed day every one was aboard theMaid of the North, and with light hearts the voyage was begun.
Two days later they reached Fort Pelican, when Netseksoak and Aluktook went ashore to await the arrival of the ship that was to take them to their far northern home, and Bob said good-bye to the two faithful friends with whom he had braved so many dangers and suffered so many hardships.
The following morning the mail boat steamed in, and Emily was transferred to her in charge of the doctor, who greeted her kindly and promised,
"You'll be going home a new girl in the fall, and your father and mother won't know you."
Nevertheless the parting from her friends was very hard for Emily, and the mother and child, and Bessie too, shed a good many tears, though the fact that she was to see Bob in a little while in St. Johns comforted Emily somewhat.
When the mail boat was finally gone, Richard Gray, with his wife and Bessie, turned homeward in their dory, which had been brought down in tow of theMaid of the North, and the schoonerspread her sails to the breeze and passed to the southward.
With some delays caused by bad weather, three weeks elapsed before theMaid of the Northone day, late in July, sailed through the narrows past the towering cliffs of Signal Hill, and anchored in the land-locked harbour of St. Johns.
In the interim the mail boat had made another voyage to the north, and brought back with her Captain Hanks and his crew, who had worked their way to Indian Harbour in their open boat to await the steamer there. Of course Skipper Sam had heard that Bob was coming with theMaid of the North, and when the schooner finally reached her anchorage he was on the lookout for her, and at once came aboard with much blustering, to demand her immediate delivery. He believed he had some unsophisticated livyeres to deal with, whom he could easily browbeat out of their rights. What was his surprise, then, when Douglas stepped forward, and said very authoritatively:
"Bide a bit, now, skipper. When 'tis decided how much salvage you pays th' lad, an' after you pays un, you'll be havin' th' schooner an' her cargo, an' not till then."
Bob's first thought upon going ashore was of Emily, and he went immediately to the hospital to see her. The operation had been performed nearly two weeks previously and she was recovering rapidly. When he was admitted to the ward, and she glimpsed him as he entered the door, her delight was almost beyond bounds.
"Oh! Oh!" she exclaimed, when he kissed her. "Tis fine t' see un, Bob—'tissofine. An' now I'll be gettin' well wonderful quick."
And she did. She was discharged from the hospital quite cured a month later. At first she was a little weak, but youth and a naturally strong constitution were in her favour, and she regained her strength with remarkable rapidity.
Finally a settlement was arranged with Captain Hanks. The furs on board theMaid of the Northwere appraised at market value, and when Bob received his salvage he found himself possessed of fifteen thousand dollars.
He reimbursed Douglas the amount advanced for Emily's hospital expenses, but the kind old trapper would not accept another cent, though the lad wished to pay him for his services in piloting the vessel to St. Johns.
"Put un in th' bank. You'll be needin' unsome day t' start un in life. Hold on t' un," was the good advice that Douglas gave, and accordingly the money was deposited in the bank.
Bob's share of the furs that he had trapped himself he very generously insisted upon giving to Dick and Ed and Bill. They were diffident about accepting them at first, saying:
"We were doin' nothin' for un."
But Bob pressed the furs upon them, and finally they accepted them. The silver fox which he wept over that cold December evening sold for four hundred and fifty dollars, and the one Dick found frozen in the trap by the deer's antlers for three hundred dollars.
Neither did Bob forget Netseksoak and Aluktook. Money would have been quite useless to the Eskimos as he well knew, so he sent them rifles and many things which they could use and would value.
Laden with gifts for the home folks, and satiated with looking at the shops and great buildings and wonders of St. Johns, they were a very happy party when at last the mail boat steamed northward with them.
Bob Gray was very proud of his little chum when, one beautiful September day, his boatground its prow upon the sands at Wolf Bight, and with all the strength and vigour of youth she bounded ashore and ran to meet the expectant and happy parents.
As, with full hearts, the reunited family of Richard Gray walked up the path to the cabin, Bob said reverently:
"Th' Lard has ways o' doin' things that seem strange an' wonderful hard sometimes when He's doin' un; but He always does un right, an' a rare lot better'nwecould plan."
During the twenty years that have elapsed since the incidents transpired that are here recorded, the mission doctors and the mission hospitals have come to The Labrador to give back life and health to the unfortunate sick and injured folk of the coast, who in the old days would have been doomed to die or to go through life helpless cripples or invalids for the lack of medical or surgical care, as would have been the case with little Emily but for the efforts of her noble brother. New people, too, have come into Eskimo Bay, though on the whole few changes have taken place and most of the characters met with in the preceding pages still live.
Douglas Campbell in the fullness of years has passed away. But he is not forgotten, and in the spring-time loving hands gather the wild flowers, which grow so sparsely there, and scatter them upon the mossy mound that marks his resting place.
Ed Matheson to this day tells the story of the adventures of Ungava Bob—as Bob Gray has thenceforth been called—not forgetting to embellish the tale with flights of fancy; and of course Dick Blake warns the listeners that these imaginative variations are "just some o' Ed's yarns," and Bob laughs at them good-naturedly.
It may be asked to what use Bob put his newly acquired wealth, and the reader's big sister should this book fall into her hands, will surely wish to know whether Bob and Bessie married, and what became of Manikawan. But these are matters that belong to another story that perhaps some day it may seem worth while to tell.
For the present, adieu to Ungava Bob.