A big schooner under sail loomed out of the mist and a voice shouted,
"Here they are, an' they've got a couple o' them!" Within a minute
they rounded up alongside and the skipper was handed over the rail and
taken down into the cabin. He was in a dazed state from exhaustion and
the effects of the blow on the head. Donald, little the worse for his
experience, went down into the forecastle, where he was surrounded by
the _West Wind's_ gang and questioned as to how it all happened. After
he had related the affair as he knew it, they shook their heads
dolefully. "Poor cook! Poor Thomas!" they murmured. John McGlashan and
James Thomas could be listed with the yearly toll of the Banks.
"Drowned on Banquereau when the fishing schr. _West Wind_ of
Eastville, N.S., Nickerson, Master, was run down while at
anchor and sunk by the Greek steamer _Livadia_ of Piraeus."
That would be their epitaph! After drinking a cup of hot coffee and a
bowl of warm soup, Donald turned into a bunk, and thinking over the
loss of his chum and his dory-mate, cried--not like a baby--but like a
man.
He lay quiet for an hour, then he got up. His clothes were being dried
at the cook's stove, so he wore a pair of pants and a sweater lent him
by one of the _Frank and Mary's_ crew. "How're ye feelin'?" asked the
men lounging around on the lockers and bunks.
"Not so dusty," answered McKenzie.
"Yer skipper says ye saved his life," observed the cook from the
stove. "He was jest alettin' go when you came up an' hauled him to
that spar. It's a great thing to be able to swim."
"How is he?" enquired the youth eagerly.
"He'll be alright," replied the other. "I fixed up his head an' gave
him a slug of old Jamaikey to wash the salt water outa his stomach.
He's asleep now, but he'll be fit when he wakes."
One of the _West Wind's_ crowd spoke. "We've cruised all around the
wreckage, Donald, but thar' ain't no sign of the cook or Thomas.
Cal'late they must ha' gone under when th' steamer crashed into yez.
Lucky thing for us we was out in the dories, or there'd ha' bin a
bigger drowndin' scrape."
McKenzie sat quiet for a moment, until he heard the dull mutter of a
bow wave outside and felt the slight rolling of the vessel. "Under
way?" he enquired.
"Baound fur Halifax," answered the cook. "Aour skipper's agoin' to
land yez there." He busied himself around the stove for a while and
then remarked, "Lucky thing for youse fellers that you landed most of
yer season's fish. You ain't agoin' to lose too much--"
"Won't we?" ejaculated a _West Winder_. "We'll lose a bet we had with
the _Annie L. Brown's_ gang. I had a hundred dollars on that. Th'
skipper had five hundred, an' most of the boys put up a dollar or two.
We'd ha' trimmed that outfit hands daown. Ira Burton ain't in it with
Jud Nickerson fur ketchin' fish." And he growled anathema on the
Grecian ship.
Captain Nickerson was himself again by supper time, but was dreadfully
upset on hearing of the loss of McGlashan and Thomas. "I would have
gone, too, if it hadn't been for you, Donny-boy," he said. "Can't
swim, y'know, and there's not many fishermen that can. Water's too
cold around our coasts for bathing. You pulled me through, son--"
"Just as you did on a good many other occasions," interrupted Donald,
"so that makes us quits."
The skipper smiled faintly. "We also lose our bet, I'm afraid, though
I don't think Ira Burton can collect from us. However, it don't
matter. I'll get another vessel again--the _West Wind_ was
insured--and I'll have no trouble next season in getting a
gang--that's certain."
They were landed in Halifax forty hours after the accident, and
Captain Nickerson immediately reported the facts of the collision to
the marine authorities. As luck would have it, the Grecian steamer was
then in the harbor. She had made no report of the mishap--a damning
feature--and, as she was about to sail for Baltimore, she was libelled
and held, and her master and watch officers were hailed before the
authorities to explain. At first they absolutely denied sinking any
schooner, or even scraping one, and they had even altered the ship's
log-book to show that they were not in the vicinity when the collision
happened, but under expert cross-examination their story broke down,
even though they refused to admit the facts. Inspection of the
steamer's bows revealed dents and scrapes freshly painted over, and
eventually, a sailor with a grudge, failed to corroborate the
officers' evidence and bluntly stated that they had run down an
anchored schooner on the Banks and deliberately steamed away from the
scene. The master and owners of the _Livadia_ were required to furnish
bonds for fifty thousand dollars before the steamer was allowed to
proceed. The official inquiry was set for the week following, at
which all parties were required to attend the Court in Halifax.
Captain Nickerson, Donald and the _West Wind's_ crew boarded the
packet steamer that evening for Eastville Harbor, and just a minute
prior to sailing, two men came running down the wharf. Shouting "Wait
a minute!" they ran up the gang-plank and staggered into the midst of
the _West Wind's_ crowd, who greeted their unceremonious boarding with
incredulous oaths and shouts of surprise. _It was Joak McGlashan and
Jack Thomas!_
"Where in the name of all that's sacred did you fellers spring from?"
gasped the skipper, while Donald grabbed Joak to see if he were really
alive. "Jist came in, Skipper," answered McGlashan breathlessly. "Jist
got put aff a schooner a wee while ago an' we've had tae rin like
blazes tae catch this wee boat here. They tel't us on the wharf that
yez was a' picket up."
"By Jingo, Joak," said McKenzie, "I've been weeping over you as being
drowned on Quero. How the deuce did you escape?"
"Gimme a chanst tae get ma wind!" McGlashan sat down on a pile of
freight and wiped the perspiration from his brow. "It was like this,
ye see," he said, when he had recovered his breath. "We came up on
deck when yon steamer whustled, an' we ran fur the dory which Donald
and Jack had jist left hanging on the rail. The steamer hit her abaft
the main-mast, aboot the gurry-kid, and it didna hit the dory. Me'n
Jack jist tumbled intae it, and when the mast went, the dory went
intae the water. We lost the oars and were driftit awa' frae the
schooner, but efter two hours floatin' aboot we were picket up by a
Yankee schooner and landed in Halifax a while syne. That's all there
is tae tell, except that we were sure the skipper and Donald were
lost, as we knew you were baith aft when the steamer hit." He gave a
deep sigh and continued. "Anyway, we're all here, thank God, but the
schooner's gone, and ma good clothes are gone, and ma alarrm clock,
too, and I had a fine codfish chowder on the stove fur yer dinners
that day that also went--" He spoke so solemnly that the listeners
laughed immoderately. "By gorry, cook, you're a haound!" they
chuckled. What was at first thought to be a tragedy, was now looked
upon as an experience, an incident for yarning and joking about, and
they spent much time in chaffing McGlashan about the loss of his
"alarrm clock," his clothes and the chowder.
Arriving back in Eastville Harbor, Donald and the skipper were
disappointed to find that Ruth was in Halifax staying with the
Stuarts. Had they known, they would have looked the girls up before
coming home. However, they would be in Halifax at the inquiry the
following week, and Donald looked forward to seeing Ruth then with
feelings of anticipatory pleasure. He had not seen or heard from her
for four months, and when a youth is in love with a pretty and very
desirable girl, four months is a terribly lengthy period.
At the Nickerson home, Jud's parents were kindness personified. Old
Mrs. Nickerson took Donald in hand and purchased him an outfit of both
sea and shore clothes. They were not expensive clothes, but they were
of good wearing stuff. For the first time in over a year, he possessed
a shore suit, and, even though it was ready-made store clothes and of
a fit and pattern a good deal poorer than he had worn at other times
and in other circumstances, he was glad to have them and to know that
he could call on Ruth in Halifax without qualms as to his personal
dressing. He fancied nice clothes, and would like to be able to
purchase a complete rig-out of good quality and finished tailoring,
but when a lad is earning thirty-five dollars a month and saving to
make a home for his mother, he cannot spend money in dress. Donald
accepted Mrs. Nickerson's gifts with deep appreciation, but with a
sneaking suspicion that Judson had engineered the whole thing as a
reward for services rendered.
The _West Wind's_ two trips of fish were sold, and the skipper
announced that they had landed altogether three thousand five hundred
quintals. Had they completed the season, the _West Wind_ would have
made a record catch, but, as it was, the crew were eminently satisfied
with share checks in the neighbourhood of $600 per man, with a
possible addition for gear, clothes and fish lost when the collision
case was tried and judgment secured against the Greek steamer's
owners. Donald received a check for $140. "And there's more acomin' to
you," said Judson when he paid him. "You'll draw a fisherman's share
for this last trip, but we've got to get the money from those Greeks
first. They'll pay us enough to help build a new vessel, for the fish
we lost, and all our outfit and gear. They'll _have_ to pay, for they
haven't a leg to stand on. The money is as good as ours naow!" And he
chuckled grimly.
When the inquiry was over, Donald intended to ship in a vessel for
Glasgow and bring his mother out to Nova Scotia. He had already
written her to that effect, and before he went to Halifax, he and Mrs.
Nickerson arranged to rent a neat little cottage on the hill street
just back of the town, and not far from the Nickerson home. It was
secured furnished, and as it was at present untenanted, Donald worked
around the place for a few days painting the floors, doors and
wood-work, after scrubbing it out thoroughly from top to bottom. It
was not a large cottage, but it was a warm one, and built of squared
spruce logs shingled on the outside and match-boarded inside. There
was a kitchen addition, and the main part of the house had a
dining-room, parlor, and two small bedrooms upstairs. It was a vastly
different place from the red sandstone villa in Maxwell Park, with its
tiled bathrooms, hot and cold water, electricity and gas, but it was
clean and cosy, and the rent was extremely moderate. The furniture
was plain and meant to be utilized. Most of it was made by
ship-carpenters, and there was no veneer or elaborate carvings. The
beds were of wood, and in lieu of springs, there were mattresses of
plucked feathers so soft and downy that one almost vanished in their
cosy embrace. Picked rag mats covered the floors, and the place was
heated in winter by a small box stove which burned wood, and which
stood in the dining-room, and disseminated heat into the parlor
through a square opening in the wall.
An acre of good garden ground went with the place, and there was a
small building suitable for a stable and wood-shed immediately back of
the dwelling. A well, equipped with a pump, stood near the kitchen
door in handy proximity to save laborious water carrying, and the
former tenants had planted vines which clustered over the little front
porch, and there were rose bushes, lilacs, and hollyhocks around the
front and sides of the house.
On the eve of his departure for Halifax and Scotland, Donald viewed
his future home and tried to imagine what it would be like when his
mother arrived and was installed within. He could picture her reading
by the stove of a winter's night, or working in the garden in summer.
She would have chickens, of course, and maybe a pig or two. His mother
knew all about these things. Then he thought of Ruth.... Of course,
she wouldn't live in a cabin like that, but by the time he was in a
position to marry her, he hoped to have a home of his own--a big
wooden house like what other Eastville skippers owned--a house with
four or five bedrooms, hot air furnaces and plastered walls and modern
plumbing. They all had pianos, a horse and buggy, and good furniture
imported from Halifax. He would get that ... in time. He'd go with
Judson in the dory again next summer, then he would go to navigation
school in Halifax and get his second mate's ticket for off-shore. He
was able to pass the examination now, but he hadn't the necessary
sea-time in to qualify. Another year or two fishing and he would go
skipper--fishing in the summer and running fish and lumber to the West
Indies in winter. He would be skipper, if all went well, by the time
he was twenty, and when he attained his majority, he would ask Ruth to
marry him. With these pleasant thoughts, he squared up a rumpled rag
mat on the floor of his future home, straightened a deal table and
studied the effect of a cheap vase--he knew it was cheap and gaudy and
he wanted to stow it away--on the sideboard--and after a final look
around, he gave a satisfied sigh and locked the front door. At the
front fence, he looked back at the cottage--nestling cosily amid a few
dwarf spruce--and whistling cheerfully he swung down the road
ruminating over a suitable name for his coming domicile. "Shelter
Harbor! That's a good one," he murmured. "I think mother would like
that. M-m! Shelter Harbor--that's the name, for it'll be a shelter
harbor for the both of us!"