When Skipper Zeb's oar broke, the boat, now at the mercy of the wind,
was driven upon a submerged rock at the tip end of the reef extending
some twenty yards out from the cliff known as the Duck's Head. Here it
stuck for what seemed to Charley a long time, reeling in the surf until
he was quite certain it would roll over and they would all be drowned.
Mrs. Twig, clinging with Violet to the mainmast, gave a shrill cry of
despair, and Violet screamed in terror. Then a mighty sea lifted them
like a chip from the rock, and swept the boat onward and beyond the
reef.
Rolling and wallowing in the angry sea, which threatened every moment to
swallow it up, the boat still floated to the astonishment of all, and
Skipper Zeb and Toby, with feverish zeal shipping a fresh oar, began
sculling toward the sheltered and calm waters under the lee of the
Duck's Head.
The wind in their quarter helped them, and with a few mighty strokes of
the oar the boat was carried beyond the reach of the rollers, and a few
minutes later, submerged to her gunwale, grounded upon a narrow strip of
gravelly beach on the western side of the Duck's Head, and Skipper Zeb
carried Violet ashore, while the other half drowned and half frozen
voyageurs followed.
A quantity of driftwood lined the base of the cliff. With an ax, which
Skipper Zeb recovered from the boat, he quickly split some sticks,
whittled shavings with his jack-knife from the dry hearts of the split
sticks, lighted these with a match from a supply which he carried in a
small corked bottle, and which were thus protected from the water, and
in an incredibly short time a cheerful fire was blazing.
"Well, now!" Skipper Zeb exclaimed, genially, warming his hands before
the fire. "Here we are safe and sound and none of us lost, as I were
fearin' when we strikes the rock we might be! All of us saved by the
mercy of the Lard! How is you feelin' now, Vi'let?"
"I feels fine, with the fire," answered Violet, who was snuggling close
to her mother.
"That's pluck; now! And wet as a muskrat!" exclaimed Skipper Zeb,
laughing heartily, and quite as though it were an ordinary occurrence,
and they had not, a few minutes before, been in peril of their lives.
Turning to Charley, he asked: "And how be you, lad?"
"I'm all right now, thank you," said Charley shivering still with the
cold. "But I never was so wet and cold in my life, and I'm sure I'd have
frozen stiff if you hadn't made a fire in a hurry. It's lucky you had
some matches in a bottle, for that's all that kept them dry."
"No, no, 'twaren't luck!" objected Skipper Zeb. "'Twere just sense! I
never goes cruisin' without dry matches corked tight in a bottle handy
in my pocket, and I never uses un unless my other matches gets wet.
There's times when it's the only way to get a fire, and without un
to-day I'm not doubtin' some of us would have perished."
"I always carries un too," said Toby.
"Aye, a man that cruises in this land must always be ready to put a fire
on," commended Skipper Zeb.
"I'll remember that," said Charley.
"'Twere a narrow shave we has," remarked Toby, "but you always gets out
of fixes, Dad. When I looks through the snow and sees the white water
rollin' over the reef right handy ahead, and the wind drivin' us on to
un, I thinks, now here's a _fix_! 'Tis a wonderful bad fix! Dad can't be
gettin' us out of _this_ fix, whatever! I'll be just watchin' now, and
see! Dad can't get us out of this un! And then you gets the oar and
pulls us up into the wind, and we has room to pass fine, and then I
says, Dad's doin' it! Dad's gettin' us out of the fix! Then the oar
breaks, and I says that's the end of _us_! But you gets out of un,
_what_ever! You're wonderful fine at gettin' out of fixes, Dad!"
"'Tweren't me," objected Skipper Zeb, "'twere the Lard. We does the best
we can, and when the Lard sees we does our best, He steps in and helps.
He says, 'These folk does the best _they_ can to get out of this fix,
and I'll just step in and do what they can't do, and help un out of it,'
and that's what He does, and here we be, safe and sound."
"Is the boat wrecked?" asked Mrs. Twig. "Can't you fix un and use un any
more?"
"Well now, I'm not knowin' rightly yet, but I'm fearin' her bottom's
knocked out of she," answered Skipper Zeb. "If 'tis, 'twill be the end
of she, but we'll be makin' out as fine as can be without she."
"'Tis too bad to lose she after all our skimpin' and savin' to buy she,"
mourned Mrs. Twig. "You were wantin' she so bad, and we were savin' and
skimpin' for five years, and when you got she you were so pleased over
she, and she were helpin' you so in the fishin'."
"Aye, she were a fine help," admitted Skipper Zeb cheerfully. "But I
were thinkin' maybe she were a bit too big to be handy. Leastways to-day
is to-day and to-morrow is to-morrow, and if she's wrecked she's
wrecked, and that's the end of she. We won't worry and fuss about what's
gone and can't be helped, and maybe some day we'll be gettin' a better
boat. We'll just thank the Lard we're safe and sound."
Skipper Zeb put some fresh wood upon the fire, and then, pausing to rub
his hands over the blaze, he chuckled audibly.
"I'm feelin' wonderful glad to be thinkin' how all of us be alive and
safe," he said in explanation. "The Lard were wonderful good to us to be
bringin' us all ashore. Now we'll get snug. Toby, lad, we'll try to get
the things out of the boat, and we'll put up the tent and the stove, and
before night comes we'll be as dry and tight as ever we were in our
lives."
It was no easy matter to transfer the cargo from the submerged boat. It
was snowing hard, and the water was icy cold, and Skipper Zeb would not
permit Charley to go into the boat with himself and Toby.
"You be stayin' ashore," he directed, "and keep the fire up for Mrs.
Twig and Vi'let."
"But I want to help! I want to do my part!" protested Charley. "Perhaps
I can't do much, but I can do something. You've been so kind to me and
took me in when I had no place to go! Now I want to do what I can, and
not have you do everything for me."
"That's fine now! That's spirit! You'll be makin' a real Labradorman
before you leaves us. But not bein' used to un," Skipper Zeb explained,
"you'd be findin' the water a bit coolish. We're used to un. We're wet
at the fishin' all summer. 'Tis best you stays by the fire and gets
warmed up, and gets your clothes dry."
But when Charley insisted that he do something to help, Skipper Zeb
agreed that he might carry the things back from the shore, as they were
brought from the boat, and pile them near the fire.
"Then they'll be handy for us to get at and dry out, and the work'll be
keepin' you warm and free from chill," said Skipper Zeb, "and 'twill be
better than gettin' in the water with Toby and me."
Skipper Zeb and Toby, waist deep in the boat, rescued the various
articles of the cargo and passed them to Charley, who worked with a will
until everything was salvaged. A tent was then quickly set up in the lee
of the cliff, a tent stove placed in the tent, a fire lighted in the
stove, and in fifteen minutes the tent was warm and snug and cozy.
A bag of flour was now opened, and it was found that while the outside
was wet, the greater part of the center was dry, and in a jiffy Mrs.
Twig was mixing dough bread, a kettle was over for tea, and Skipper Zeb
had some bear's meat sizzling in the pan and sending forth a most
delicious and appetizing odour.
"Well, now!" exclaimed Skipper Zeb when they were all gathered in the
warm tent, and Mrs. Twig had piled their plates with meat and hot bread
and passed each of them a cup of steaming hot tea, "here we are in as
snug a berth as can be, safe and sound, with nothin' to worry about even
if we be a bit wet."
"It is cozy," agreed Charley, with a mouthful of the hot bread, "and I
never tasted anything so good!"
"Hunger be a wonderful fine spice for vittles," remarked Skipper Zeb.
"Are you all warmed up, now?"
Everybody was warm, and wet clothing was steaming in the overheated
tent.
"I'm wonderful thankful you makes the cruise to the Post early," said
Mrs. Twig. "'Twere fine to get our winter outfit in September month, and
get un safe up to Double Up Cove whilst fair weather held. If we'd had
un to-day all the flour and tea and hard bread[2] would be spoiled. As
'tis, we loses the boat and so much else it makes my heart sick to think
of un."
"Well, now!" exclaimed Skipper Zeb. "Worryin' when we has everything to
be thankful for! We has the boat for the cruise in September month, just
when we needs un most. Now we don't need un this year again. The things
we loses we'll make out without. Everything works fine for us, and here
we be, snug as a bear in his den, eatin' good vittles, even if we be a
bit wet."
"I can't help worryin' about the boat," insisted Mrs. Twig. "I'm 'tis
feelin' bad for you not havin' she."
"Don't feel bad about un, Mother," and there was a tenderness in Skipper
Twig's voice that Charley noted. "'Twere the Lard's doin's."
When the meal was finished Mrs. Twig and Violet were left in the tent to
dry their clothing, and to hang the blankets from the ridge in an
attempt to dry them also. With one of the sails a lean-to shelter was
made by the open fire outside, and while Skipper Zeb was busy with this,
Toby and Charley broke boughs for a seat, and here the three devoted
themselves to drying their own clothing.
"How can we get from here without a boat?" asked Charley.
"Now that's a fair question!" admitted Skipper Zeb, "but 'tis easy to
answer. We're not so far from Double Up Cove. I can walk un in an hour,
whatever. Toby and I goes in the marnin', if the sea calms down in the
night, and I'll be comin' with another boat. I'm thinkin' 'twill clear
before we turns in, whatever. 'Twere only a squall, and 'tis about
over. To-morrow's like to be a fair day."
Late in the afternoon, as Skipper Zeb predicted, the snow ceased, the
sky cleared and the wind moderated. The campfire outside was so cheerful
Mrs. Twig and Violet came out of the tent to cook their supper there;
and while Mrs. Twig cooked, Skipper Zeb laid a fragrant, springy bed of
boughs within the tent.
They all sat around the fire and ate in the light of its blaze. And when
they were through, Skipper Zeb lighted his pipe, and told stories of his
life at sea as a fisherman and on the winter trail as a trapper and
hunter that were as full of thrills as any Charley had ever read, until
it was time to go to the tent and to bed.
It had been the most exciting and adventurous day of Charley's life. He
was thankful for his escape. Within his heart welled something of the
exultation that one feels who meets and conquers obstacles. True, he had
done little himself to aid in the escape, but he had done something. He
had taken part in the transference of the cargo, and in pitching the
tent, and breaking boughs. He had helped make the camp, and had more
than the passive interest of a visitor in it.
What tales he would have to tell when he returned home! He had not
enjoyed the experience of the day as an experience, but already in
retrospect he was thrilled by it. The fellows would surely envy him!
When he was wet to the skin and chilled to numbness, he had longed again
and again for the warmth of the mail boat, even with its unsavoury
smells, and he had asked himself why he had been so foolish as to go
ashore. Now that he was dry and warm, his regrets passed, and he felt
himself quite a hero.
Within, the tent was warm and cozy. The air was perfumed with the spicy
fragrance of spruce mingled with the pleasant odour of the woodfire, the
incense of the wilderness. Outside he could hear the seas breaking upon
the cliff off the Duck's Head and over the reef, and listening to the
pounding seas outside, and the cheerful crackling of the fire in the
stove, he fell into pleasant dreams.