Billy Topsail & Company: A Story for Boys
CHAPTER V
_In Which Jimmie Grimm Moves to Ruddy Cove and Settles on the Slope of the Broken Nose, Where, Falling in With Billy Topsail and Donald North, He Finds the Latter a Coward, But Learns the Reason, and Scoffs no Longer. In Which, Also, Donald North Leaps a Breaker to Save a Salmon Net, and Acquires a Strut_
When old Jim Grimm moved to Ruddy Cove and settled his wife and son ina little white cottage on the slope of a bare hill called Broken Nose,Jimmie Grimm was not at all sorry. There were other boys at RuddyCove--far more boys, and jollier boys, and boys with more time tospare, than at Buccaneer. There was Billy Topsail, for one, atow-headed, blue-eyed, active lad of Jimmie's age; and there wasDonald North, for another. Jimmie Grimm liked them both. Billy Topsailwas the elder, and up to more agreeable tricks; but Donald was goodenough company for anybody, and would have been quite as admirable asBilly Topsail had it not been that he was afraid of the sea. They didnot call him a coward at Ruddy Cove; they merely said that he wasafraid of the sea.
And Donald North was.
* * * * *
Jimmie Grimm, himself no coward in a blow of wind, was inclined toscoff, at first; but Billy Topsail explained, and then Jimmie Grimmscoffed no longer, but hoped that Donald North would be cured of fearbefore he was much older. As Billy Topsail made plain to the boy, inexcuse of his friend, Donald North was brave enough until he was eightyears old; but after the accident of that season he was so timid thathe shrank from the edge of the cliff when the breakers were beatingthe rocks below, and trembled when his father's fishing punt heeled tothe faintest gust.
"Billy," he had said to Billy Topsail, on the unfortunate day when hecaught the fear, being then but a little chap, "leave us go sail mynew fore-an'-after. I've rigged her out with a fine new mizzens'l."
"Sure, b'y!" said Billy. "Where to?"
"Uncle George's wharf-head. 'Tis a place as good as any."
Off Uncle George's wharf-head the water was deep--deeper than Donaldcould fathom at low tide--and it was cold, and covered a rocky bottom,upon which a multitude of starfish and prickly sea-eggs lay inclusters. It was green, smooth and clear, too; sight carried straightdown to where the purple-shelled mussels gripped the rocks.
The tide had fallen somewhat and was still on the ebb. Donald found ita long reach from the wharf to the water. By and by, as the water ranout of the harbour, the most he could do was to touch the tip of themast of the miniature ship with his fingers. Then a little gust ofwind crept round the corner of the wharf, rippling the water as itcame near. It caught the sails of the new fore-and-after, and thelittle craft fell over on another tack and shot away.
"Here, you!" Donald cried. "Come back, will you?"
He reached for the mast. His fingers touched it, but the boat escapedbefore they closed. He laughed, hitched nearer to the edge of thewharf, and reached again. The wind had failed; the little boat wastossing in the ripples, below and just beyond his grasp.
"I can't cotch her!" he called to Billy Topsail, who was back nearthe net-horse, looking for squids.
Billy looked up, and laughed to see Donald's awkward position--to seehim hanging over the water, red-faced and straining. Donald laughed,too. At once he lost his balance and fell forward.
This was in the days before he could swim, so he floundered about inthe water, beating it wildly, to bring himself to the surface. When hecame up, Billy Topsail was leaning over to catch him. Donald liftedhis arm. His fingers touched Billy's, that was all--just touchedthem.
Then he sank; and when he came up again, and again lifted his arm,there was half a foot of space between his hand and Billy's. Somemeasure of self-possession returned. He took a long breath, and lethimself sink. Down he went, weighted by his heavy boots.
Those moments were full of the terror of which, later, he could notrid himself. There seemed to be no end to the depth of the water inthat place. But when his feet touched bottom, he was still deliberatein all that he did.
For a moment he let them rest on the rock. Then he gave himself astrong upward push. It needed but little to bring him within reach ofBilly Topsail's hand. He shot out of the water and caught that hand.Soon afterwards he was safe on the wharf.[1]
"Sure, mum, I thought I were drownded that time!" he said to hismother, that night. "When I were goin' down the last time I thoughtI'd never see you again."
"But you wasn't drownded, b'y," said his mother, softly.
"But I might ha' been," said he.
There was the rub. He was haunted by what might have happened. Soon hebecame a timid, shrinking lad, utterly lacking confidence in thestrength of his arms and his skill with an oar and a sail; and afterthat came to pass, his life was hard. He was afraid to go out to thefishing-grounds, where he must go every day with his father to keepthe head of the punt up to the wind, and he had a great fear of thewind and the fog and the breakers. But he was not a coward. On thecontrary, although he was circumspect in all his dealings with thesea, he never failed in his duty.
In Ruddy Cove all the men put out their salmon nets when the icebreaks up and drifts away southward, for the spring run of salmon thenbegins. These nets are laid in the sea, at right angles to the rocksand extending out from them; they are set alongshore, it may be a mileor two, from the narrow passage to the harbour. The outer end isbuoyed and anchored, and the other is lashed to an iron stake which isdriven deep into some crevice of the rock.
When belated icebergs hang offshore a watch must be kept on the nets,lest they be torn away or ground to pulp by the ice.
"The wind's haulin' round a bit, b'y," said Donald's father, one dayin spring, when the lad was twelve years old, and he was in thecompany of Jimmie Grimm and Billy Topsail on the sunny slope of theBroken Nose. "I think 'twill freshen and blow inshore afore night."
"They's a scattered pan of ice out there, father," said Donald, "andthree small bergs."
"Yes, b'y, I knows," said North. "'Tis that I'm afeared of. If thewind changes a bit more, 'twill jam the ice agin the rocks. Does youthink the net is safe?"
Jimmie Grimm glanced at Billy Topsail; and Billy Topsail glanced atJimmie Grimm.
"Wh-wh-what, sir?" Donald stammered.
It was quite evident that the net was in danger, but since Donald hadfirst shown sign of fearing the sea, Job North had not compelled himto go out upon perilous undertakings. He had fallen into the habit ofleaving the boy to choose his own course, believing that in time hewould master himself.
"I says," he repeated, quietly, "does you think that net's indanger?"
Billy Topsail nudged Jimmie Grimm. They walked off together. It wouldnever do to witness a display of Donald's cowardice.
"He'll not go," Jimmie Grimm declared.
"'Tis not so sure," said Billy.
"I tell you," Jimmie repeated, confidently, "that he'll never go outt' save that net." "But!" he added; "he'll have no heart for theleap."
"I think he'll go," Billy insisted.
In the meantime Job North had stood regarding his son.
"Well, son," he sighed, "what you think about that net?"
"I think, sir," said Donald, steadily, between his teeth, "that thenet should come in."
Job North patted the boy on the back. "'Twould be wise, b'y," said he,smiling. "Come, b'y; we'll go fetch it."
"So long, Don!" Billy Topsail shouted delightedly.
Donald and his father put out in the punt. There was a fair, freshwind, and with this filling the little brown sail, they were soondriven out from the quiet water of the harbour to the heaving seaitself. Great swells rolled in from the open and broke furiouslyagainst the coast rocks. The punt ran alongshore for two miles,keeping well away from the breakers. When at last she came to thatpoint where Job North's net was set, Donald furled the sail and hisfather took up the oars.
"'Twill be a bit hard to land," he said.
Therein lay the danger. There is no beach along that coast. The rocksrise abruptly from the sea--h
ere, sheer and towering; there, low andbroken. When there is a sea running, the swells roll in and breakagainst these rocks; and when the breakers catch a punt, they arecertain to smash it to splinters.
The iron stake to which Job North's net was lashed was fixed in a lowledge, upon which some hardy shrubs had taken root. The waves werecasting themselves against the rocks below, breaking with a great roarand flinging spray over the ledge.
"'Twill be a bit hard," North said again.
But the salmon-fishers have a way of landing under such conditions.When their nets are in danger they do not hesitate. The man at theoars lets the boat drift with the breaker stern foremost towards therocks. His mate leaps from the stern seat to the ledge. Then the otherpulls the boat out of danger before the wave curls and breaks. It isthe only way.
But sometimes the man in the stern miscalculates--leaps too soon,stumbles, leaps short. He falls back, and is almost inevitablydrowned. Sometimes, too, the current of the wave is too strong for theman at the oars; his punt is swept in, pull as hard as he may, and heis overwhelmed with her. Donald knew all this. He had lived in dreadof the time when he must first make that leap.
"The ice is comin' in, b'y," said North. "'Twill scrape these hererocks, certain sure. Does you think you're strong enough to take theoars an' let me go ashore?"
"No, sir," said Donald.
"You never leaped afore, did you?"
"No, sir."
"Will you try it now, b'y?" said North, quietly.
"Yes, sir," Donald said, faintly.
"Get ready, then," said North.
With a stroke or two of the oars Job swung the stern of the boat tothe rocks. He kept her hanging in this position until the water fellback and gathered in a new wave; then he lifted his oars. Donald wascrouched on the stern seat, waiting for the moment to rise andspring.
The boat moved in, running on the crest of the wave which would amoment later break against the rock. Donald stood up, and fixed hiseye on the ledge. He was afraid; all the strength and courage hepossessed seemed to desert him. The punt was now almost on a levelwith the ledge. The wave was about to curl and fall. It was theprecise moment when he must leap--that instant, too, when the puntmust be pulled out of the grip of the breaker, if at all.
Billy Topsail and Jimmie Grimm were at this critical moment hangingoff Grief Island, in the lee, whence they could see all that occurred.They had come out to watch the issue of Donald's courage.
_Courtesy of "The Youth's Companion"_PLUCKING UP HIS COURAGE, DONALD LEAPED FOR THE ROCK.]
"He'll never leap," Jimmie exclaimed.
"He will," said Billy.
"He'll not," Jimmie declared.
"Look!" cried Billy.
Donald felt of a sudden that he _must_ do this thing. Therefore whynot do it courageously? He leaped; but this new courage had not comein time. He made the ledge, but he fell an inch short of a firmfooting. So for a moment he tottered, between falling forward andfalling back. Then he caught the branch of an overhanging shrub, andwith this saved himself. When he turned, Job had the punt in safety;but he was breathing hard, as if the strain had been great.
"'Twas not so hard, was it, b'y?" said Job.
"No, sir," said Donald.
"I told you so," said Billy Topsail to Jimmie Grimm.
"Good b'y!" Jimmie declared, as he hoisted the sail for the homewardrun.
Donald cast the net line loose from its mooring, and saw that it wasall clear. His father let the punt sweep in again. It is much easierto leap from a solid rock than from a boat, so Donald jumped inwithout difficulty. Then they rowed out to the buoy and hauled thegreat, dripping net over the side.
It was well they had gone out, for before morning the ice had driftedover the place where the net had been. More than that, Donald Northprofited by his experience. He perceived that if perils must beencountered, they are best met with a clear head and an unflinchingheart.
"Wisht you'd been out t' see me jump the day," he said to JimmieGrimm, that night.
Billy and Jimmie laughed.
"Wisht you had," Donald repeated.
"We was," said Jimmie.
Donald threw back his head, puffed out his chest, dug his hands in hispockets and strutted off. It was the first time, poor lad! he had everwon the right to swagger in the presence of Jimmie Grimm and BillyTopsail. To be sure, he made the most of it!
But he was not yet cured.
-----
[1] Donald North himself told me this--told me, too, what he had thought, and what he said to his mother--N. D.