Billy Topsail & Company: A Story for Boys

  CHAPTER VIII

  _In Which Bagg, Unknown to Ruddy Cove, Starts for Home, and, After Some Difficulty, Safely Gets There_

  Uncle Tommy Luff, coming up the hill one day when the ice was jammedagainst the coast and covered the sea as far as sight carried, wasstopped by Bagg at the turn to Squid Cove.

  "I say, mister," said Bagg, "which way was you tellin' me Lun'on wasfrom 'ere?"

  Uncle Tommy pointed straight out to the ice-covered sea.

  "That way?" asked Bagg.

  "Straight out o' the tickle with the meetin'-house astarn."

  "Think a bloke could ever get there?" Bagg inquired.

  Uncle Tommy laughed. "If he kep' on walkin' he'd strike it some time,"he answered.

  "Sure?" Bagg demanded.

  "If he kep' on walkin'," Uncle Tommy repeated, smiling.

  This much may be said of the ice: the wind which carries it inshoreinevitably sweeps it out to sea again, in an hour or a day or a week,as it may chance. The whole pack--the wide expanse of enormousfragments of fields and glaciers--is in the grip of the wind, which,as all men know, bloweth where it listeth. A nor'east gale sets itgrinding against the coast, but when the wind veers to the west thepack moves out and scatters.

  If a man is caught in that great rush and heaving, he has nothingfurther to do with his own fate but wait. He escapes if he hasstrength to survive until the wind blows the ice against the coastagain--not else. When the Newfoundlander starts out to the seal hunthe makes sure, in so far as he can, that no change in the wind isthreatened.

  Uncle Ezekiel Rideout kept an eye on the weather that night.

  "Be you goin', b'y?" said Ruth, looking up from her weaving.

  Ezekiel had just come in from Lookout Head, where the watchers hadcaught sight of the seals, swarming far off in the shadows.

  "They's seals out there," he said, "but I don't know as us'll go thenight. 'Tis like the wind'll haul t' the west."

  "What do Uncle Tommy Luff say?"

  "That 'twill haul t' the west an' freshen afore midnight."

  "Sure, then, you'll not be goin', b'y?"

  "I don't know as anybody'll go," said he. "Looks a bit too nasty for'em."

  Nevertheless, Ezekiel put some pork and hard-bread in his dunny bag,and made ready his gaff and tow-lines, lest, by chance, the weathershould promise fair at midnight.

  "Where's that young scamp?" said Ezekiel, with a smile--a smile whichexpressed a fine, indulgent affection.

  "Now, I wonder where he is?" said Ruth, pausing in her work. "He'vebeen gone more'n an hour, sure."

  "Leave un bide where he is so long as he likes," said he. "Sure hemust be havin' a bit o' sport. 'Twill do un good."

  Ezekiel sat down by the fire and dozed. From time to time he went tothe door to watch the weather. From time to time Aunt Ruth listenedfor the footfalls of Bagg coming up the path. After a long time sheput her work away. The moon was shining through a mist; so she sat atthe window, for from there she could see the boy when he rounded theturn to the path. She wished he would come home.

  "I'll go down t' Topsail's t' see what's t' be done about the seals,"said Ezekiel.

  "Keep a lookout for the b'y," said she.

  Ezekiel was back in half an hour. "Topsail's gone t' bed," said he."Sure, no one's goin' out the night. The wind's hauled round t' thewest, an' 'twill blow a gale afore mornin'. The ice is movin' out slowa'ready. Be that lad out yet?"

  "Yes, b'y," said Ruth, anxiously. "I wisht he'd come home."

  "I--I--wisht he would," said Ezekiel.

  Ruth went to the door and called Bagg by name.

  But there was no answer.

  * * * * *

  Offshore, four miles offshore, Bagg was footing it for England as fastas his skinny little legs would carry him. The way was hard--awinding, uneven path over the pack. It led round clumpers, over ridgeswhich were hard to scale, and across broad, slippery pans. The frosthad glued every fragment to its neighbour; for the moment the packformed one solid mass, continuous and at rest, but the connectionbetween its parts was of the slenderest, needing only a change of thewind or the ground swell of the sea to break it everywhere.

  The moon was up. It was half obscured by a haze which was driving outfrom the shore, to which quarter the wind had now fairly veered. Thewind was rising--coming in gusts, in which, soon, flakes of snowappeared. But there was light enough to keep to the general directionout from the coast, and the wind but helped Bagg along.

  "I got t' 'urry up," thought he.

  The boy looked behind. Ruddy Cove was within sight. He was surprisedthat the coast was still so near.

  "Got t' 'urry up a bit more," he determined.

  He was elated--highly elated. He thought that his old home was but anight's journey distant; at most, not more than a night and a day, andhe had more than food enough in his pockets to last through that. Hewas elated; but from time to time a certain regret entered in, and itwas not easily cast out. He remembered the touch of Aunt Ruth's lips,and her arm, which had often stolen about him in the dusk; and heremembered that Uncle Ezekiel had beamed upon him most affectionately,in times of mischief and good works alike. He had been well loved inRuddy Cove.

  "Wisht I'd told Aunt Ruth," Bagg thought.

  On he trudged--straight out to sea.

  "Got t' 'urry up," thought he.

  Again the affection of Aunt Ruth occurred to him. She had been verykind; and as for Uncle 'Zeke--why, nobody could have been kinder.

  "Wisht I _'ad_ told Aunt Ruth," Bagg regretted. "Might o' saidgood-bye anyhow."

  The ice was now drifting out; but the wind had not yet risen to thatmeasure of strength wherewith it tears the pack to pieces, nor had thesea attacked it. There was a gap of two hundred yards between thecoast rocks and the edge of the ice, but that was far, far back, andhidden from sight. The pack was drifting slowly, smoothly, still inone compact mass. Its motion was not felt by Bagg, who pressedsteadily on toward England, eager again, but fast growing weary.

  "Got t' 'urry up," thought he.

  But presently he must rest; and while he rested the wind gatheredstrength. It went singing over the pack, pressing ever with a strongerhand upon its dumpers and ridges--pushing it, everywhere, faster andfaster out to sea. The pack was on the point of breaking in piecesunder the strain, but the wind still fell short of the power to rendit. There was a greater volume of snow falling; it was driven past inthin, swirling clouds. Hence the light of the moon began to fail. Faraway, at the rim of the pack, the sea was eating its way in, but theswish and crash of its work was too far distant to be heard.

  "I ain't nothink t' nobody but Aunt Ruth," Bagg thought, as he rose tocontinue the tramp.

  On he went, the wind lending him wings; but at last his legs gave outat the knees, and he sat down again to rest. This was in the lee of aclumper, where he was comfortably sheltered. He was still warm--in aglow of heat, indeed--and his hope was still with him. So far he hadsuffered from nothing save weariness. So he began to dream of what hewould do when he got home, just as all men do when they come near,once again, to that old place where they were born. The wind was nowa gale, blowing furiously; the pack was groaning in its outlyingparts.

  "Nothink t' nobody," Bagg grumbled, on his way once more.

  Then he stopped dead--in terror. He had heard the breaking of anice-pan--a great clap and rumble, vanishing in the distance. The noisewas repeated, all roundabout--bursting from everywhere, rising to afearful volume: near at hand, a cracking; far off, a continuing roar.The pack was breaking up. Each separate part was torn from another,and the noise of the rending was great. Each part ground against itsneighbour on every side. The weaker pans were crushed like egg-shells.Then the whole began to feel the heave of the sea.

  "It's a earthquake!" thought Bagg. "I better 'urry up."

  He looked back over the way he had come--searching the shadows forRuddy Cove. But the coast was lost to sight.

  "Must be near ac
rost, now," he thought. "I'll 'urry up."

  So he turned his back on Ruddy Cove and ran straight out to sea, forhe thought that England was nearer than the coast he had left. He wasnow upon a pan, both broad and thick--stout enough to withstand thepressure of the pack. It was a wide field of ice, which the cold ofthe far North, acting through many years, it may be, had made strong.Elsewhere the pans were breaking--were lifting themselves out of thepress and falling back in pieces--were being ground to finestfragments. This mighty confusion of noise and wind and snow and night,and the upheaval of the whole world roundabout, made the soul of Baggshiver within him. It surpassed the terrors of his dreams.

  "Guess I never _will_ get 'ome," thought he.

  Soon he came to the edge of the pan. Beyond, where the pack was insmaller blocks, the sea was swelling beneath it. The ice was allheaving and swaying. He dared not venture out upon this shiftingground. So he ran up and down, seeking a path onward; but hediscovered none. Meantime, the parts of the pack had fallen intoeasier positions; the noise of crunching, as the one ground againstthe other, had somewhat abated. The ice continued its course outward,under the driving force of the wind, but the pressure was relieved.The pans fell away from one another. Lakes and lanes of water openedup. The pan upon which Bagg chanced to find himself in the greatbreak-up soon floated free. There was now no escape from it.

  Bagg retreated from the edge, for the seas began to break there.

  "Wisht I was 'ome again," he sobbed.

  This time he did not look towards England, but wistfully back to RuddyCove.

  * * * * *

  The gale wasted away in the night. The next day was warm and sunny onall that coast. An ice-pack hung offshore from Fortune Harbour. In theafternoon it began to creep in with a light wind. The first pansstruck the coast at dusk. The folk of the place were on the Head, onthe lookout for the sign of a herd of seal. Just before night fellthey spied a black speck, as far out from shore as their eyes couldsee.

  "They'll be seals out there the morrow," the men were all agreed.

  So they went home and prepared to set out at dawn of the next day. Inthe night, the wind swept the whole pack in, to the last lagging pan.The ice was all jammed against the coast--a firm, vast expanse,stretching to the horizon, and held in place by the wind, whichcontinued strong and steady. The men of Fortune Harbour wentconfidently out to the hunt. At noon, when they were ten miles off theshore, they perceived the approach of a small, black figure.

  The meeting came soon afterwards, for the folk of Fortune Harbour,being both curious and quick to respond to need, made haste.

  "I say, mister," said Bagg, briskly, addressing old John Forsyth, "yer'aven't got no 'am, 'ave yer?"

  The men of Fortune Harbour laughed.

  "Or nothink else, 'ave yer?" Bagg continued, hopefully. "I'm a bit'ungry."

  "Sure, b'y," said Forsyth. "I've a biscuit an' a bit o' pork."

  "'Ave yer, now?" said Bagg. "Would yer mind giv----"

  But his hands were already full. A moment later his mouth was in thesame condition.

  "How'd you come out here?" said Forsyth.

  "Swep' out," said Bagg. "I say, mister," he added, between munches,"which way would yer say my 'ome was from 'ere?"

  "Where's your home?"

  "Ruddy Cove," said Bagg.

  "'Tis fifteen mile up the coast."

  "'Ow would you get there quickest if yer 'ad to?"

  "We'll take care o' you, b'y," said Forsyth. "We'll put you t' RuddyCove in a skiff, when the ice goes out. Seems t' me," he added, "youmust be the boy Ezekiel Rideout took. Isn't you Ezekiel Rideout'sboy?"

  "Bet yer life I am," said Bagg.