The long boom swung outboard, the schooner swung round, and as she swept
in for the reefs with the wind on her quarter now the lads realized as
well as the others did, the risks the skipper was quietly taking. It was
easy to run for the boat, but to beat out again would be a very
different affair, and Appleby fancied that only a very handy vessel
would do it once she felt the grip of the sea that grew higher as it
swept forward through shallowing water to crumble on the reefs. It was
also unpleasantly evident as he watched the white spouting that swimming
would not be much use to him if she did not succeed. Still, he had
confidence in the lean, grim-faced man who stood quietly by the house.
The men in the boat would have taken the schooner from him and ruined
him if they could, but Appleby knew that so long as the _Champlain's_
spars and canvas would hold out, Jordan would not let them drown.
In another few minutes it was also apparent that the Russians were in
sorest need of help, for each time she swung up the boat seemed closer
to the surf. The men were pulling desperately while the spray that blew
in from the streaming bows whirled about them, but every one could see
they were making no headway, and the reefs were close astern. At last
Jordan signed to Stickine.
"You've got to be handy, boys," he said quietly.
Appleby was at the rail, and saw for a moment the straining bodies swing
with the thrashing oars and the white upturned faces, as the schooner
rushed by the boat. A great wreath of foam frothed about her as she
swung over the top of a sea, but in another second she had passed
astern, and every man on board the _Champlain_ became busy when Jordan
raised his hand. Down went the helm, in came the long boom, there was a
great rattle of blocks and banging of canvas, and as the schooner swept
round a voice rang through the din.
"Get a holt of them. Up gaff topsail and jib while she's shaking!"
Appleby, as it happened, was at the topsail halliard, and could see very
little as they ran the sail up. He, however, knew the schooner had run
to leeward of the boat, and now when she lay to, he had a momentary
glimpse of the Russians. They were flying towards her with the boat
hove up on the back of a sea, but the _Champlain_ rolled heavily and he
lost sight of her. In another moment or two there was a thud and a
shouting beneath him to lee, and struggling with the topsail tack, he
could dimly see black figures leaning down through the shrouds and
apparently clutching at something in the sea. Then bedraggled objects
came scrambling over the rail, and Montreal was whirling the wheel round
while something drove away astern.
"They're here. Haul staysail," said Jordan.
It had taken less than a minute, and now the _Champlain_, heaving her
bows out of a seatop, was going on again nobody seemed to consider that
they had done anything unusual, though it was evident that it might
still cost them very dearly. The reefs were waiting close astern, there
was also an ominous spouting in front of them, and black seas that had
grown steeper came seething out of the dimness to weather. The schooner
was hove down by her canvas until the lads could scarcely stand upon her
deck, but she must carry the last inch of it if she was to beat off
shore.
On she went, deluging her jibs at every plunge and drenching her
foresail half-way up, until the reef was close ahead, and Jordan signed
with his hand. Then with canvas banging she swept round head to wind,
and, while the men, who needed no telling, grasped the jib-sheets, hung
there a few breathless moments, for everybody on board her knew that if
she would not stay, or come round on the other tack, she would be on the
reef in another minute. Appleby cast one brief glance at the tumultuous
spouting and chaos of crumbling seas, and then turned his eyes away, for
he had seen rather more than was good for him.
"Let draw staysail. Lee-sheets," said somebody, and she was coming
round with them.
Dripping men grabbed at the ropes, there was a banging of canvas, and
she was thrashing out on the other tack when Jordan, turning to the
blue-eyed officer, held out his hand.
"It's kind of fortunate we came along just then. I'll fix you up by and
by," he said.
There was still just enough light to see by, and Appleby afterwards
remembered the cloud of spray that blew into the foresail, the white
seething of the reefs, and the two figures beneath the drenched canvas
on the _Champlain's_ deck. The Russian stood erect in his wet uniform,
Jordan swaying a little, uncouth and ungainly in his spray-wet canvas
and greasy furs, but the two shook hands as men and equals, and Appleby
dimly realized that a great deal was implied by that grasp. One was, up
there, an outlaw, the other an officer of the Tsar, but the likeness
between them was greater than the difference of race, and Appleby
commenced to understand things he had heard and read that had once been
incomprehensible to him. Men, it seemed, were much the same wherever
they came from, and neither varying speech nor colour could make them
less than men, while the pride that set the nations at each others'
throats was an evil thing. Then there flashed into his memory lines he
had once been made to learn, and had straightway forgotten, "When the
battle flags are furled."
In the meanwhile he was wanted to get another pull on the
staysail-sheet, and when that was done all his attention was occupied by
the reefs and the schooner. Hove down by her canvas she put her bows in
every now and then, and her deck ran water, while the masts were
groaning under the pressure, and the surf seemed very little farther
away. Once or twice when a white sea smote her it seemed to both the
lads who clung tight to what was handiest that she was going over, and
Appleby saw that Montreal glanced at Jordan as though asking a question
from the wheel. The skipper, however, shook his head.
"We've no time for luffing. She has got to take what comes," he said.
For several minutes it seemed scarcely possible that the _Champlain_
could resist the overwhelming heeling stress of her canvas, and her deck
was swept fore and aft during them. Then there was a lull in the wind,
and as she lifted her rail a little, Stickine glanced at the boat astern
of them.
"She's most swamped, and a big drag on us," he said. "Shall I cut the
painter?"
Again Jordan shook his head. "Not unless we have to. We'll want her
to-morrow."
For an hour they thrashed to windward before they could clear the reefs,
and when at last the horrible white seething swept away behind them, and
they swung the topsail and mainsail peak down it was with a great
contentment that the lads, who were drenched through, crawled away
below. Niven laughed excitedly as he stripped off his dripping clothes.
"I'm glad we got them," he said. "Still, I wouldn't like to do this
kind of thing often."
In the meanwhile the Russian officer had gone with Jordan into the
cabin, but the bluejackets were put into the hold, and though nobody
could understand them they smiled and nodded to the sealers and took all
the tobacco that was offered them. Next morning the wind had once more
fallen, and a little grey smear, which was apparently an island, showed
on the hazy horizon. The lads knew that Brulee had taken an unusually
good breakfast into the cabin, and Jordan and the Russians came on deck
together. Montreal, at a sign from the former, span round the wheel,
and the _Champlain_ came up head to wind. She lay there for ten minutes
while the Russians emptied and dried up their boat, then water and a bag
of provisions were lowered into her, and Jordan smiled at the blue-eyed
officer.
"There's not going to be much wind for three or four hours, and you'll
be ashore by then," he said. "It's a good pull, but you'll be that much
longer sending the gun-boat after me."
The Russian, who seemed to understand him, laughed and clapped the
skipper's shoulder. Then he glanced down at his uniform with a
deprecatory gesture.
"It is my affair," he said in French. "But, my captain, what you do for
us we others do not forget."
Then he went over the side, and the boat slid away when he spoke to his
men. Jordan signed to Montreal and the schooner went on again, but
looking aft they saw the blue-eyed officer for a moment standing upright
bareheaded, as the boat lurched over a swell. They saw no more of him,
but when they sat at dinner Stickine came grinning into the hold.
"That fellow left a little silver box with some pencil writing in it on
the cabin table," he said. "Brulee's been down worrying out what it
means, and it's quite a long while since I saw Ned Jordan so proud of
anything."
*CHAPTER XXI*
*IN VANCOUVER*
It was, as Donegal observed, in American waters, but far enough outside
them, that the _Champlain_ fell in with the last holluschackie herd, and
that day bright sunlight shone down on the gently heaving sea. There
was not a boat that returned without its load, and tired as they were
the men seemed unusually cheerful as they pulled back to the schooner
when dusk was creeping in.
"The seals were a long way out to-day," said Appleby when they stopped
pulling for a minute or two. "Except when we first came up we haven't
found them so far from the beach before."
Donegal nodded as he shifted his brown hands along his oar. "'Tis
getting into training they are. They'll be off south to where they come
from by and by, the same as us," he said. "When is it we're taking the
road, Stickine?"
Stickine laughed softly as he glanced towards the north across the long
heave, and a little cold breeze fanned the lads' faces as they followed
his gaze.
"I don't know. Jordan hasn't told me yet, but I guess we'll be shoving
her along for Vancouver the first time the wind frees us," he said.
"It's fair now," said Niven with a curious eagerness.
"Is anybody telling you different?" Stickine said dryly. "It's time we
were getting our supper, boys."
They went on again, and though they had rowed since morning the stroke
was faster than it had been before, while all seemed expectant when they
lay waiting for the other boats to give them room close by the rolling
schooner. At last they hove her in, and there was a curious silence
when Jordan moved a pace or two forward and glanced at the trysail with
a little smile in his face. The schooner was just creeping through the
water under it and her jibs.
"We'll have it down and the mainsail up. It would be a kind of pity to
waste a slant like this," he said, and stopped a moment while the men
watched him expectantly with the twinkle showing plainer in his eyes. "I
don't know any reason you shouldn't give her the topsails too. She'd be
that much nearer Vancouver to-morrow, boys."
In a moment the deck seemed covered with scrambling men. Blocks
rattled, brawny backs were bent, great folds of rustling canvas swayed
aloft, and as it swelled and banged Stickine's voice rose up, "Blow,
boys, blow!"
The peak of the big mainsail tilted faster, with a fresh rattle the
foresail stretched out too, and the lads' cheeks were flushed and a
light was in their eyes when with voices hoarse from excitement they
swelled the roaring chorus--
"Blow, boys, blow for Californio,
For there's shining gold in heaps, I'm told,
On the sunny Sacramento."
It grew louder and faster, and they pulled with feverish eagerness as
they sang, while when at last one or two gasped and stopped, their
voices were replaced by the wheezing of Brulee's accordion as playing
with all his might he capered on the hatch.
"Way oh, Sacramento!" the voices rose again, and stopped when Montreal
turned on Niven, who was dragging a sail after him.
"We've no use for that thing. Get the biggest yard header. We're
starting home," he said.
Then they sent the topsail up, and the schooner was sliding south with a
merry splashing at the bows when the last refrain floated out to
leeward, and was lost in the silence that crept up across the sea, from
the frozen North they had turned their backs upon.
"Shining gold in heaps, I'm told,
Down there in Sacramento."
"Now I guess we'll fix these pelts up," said Jordan quietly.
Without a thought of weariness they worked most of the night, and the
lads did not even notice the horrible smell, while when at last the deck
was swilled down Niven went forward and leaned a moment over the rail in
the bows. The jibs swung blackly through the night ia front of him, the
sea frothed white below, and the breeze was fresh and cold now, but the
lad's face was flushed, for with every lurch that flung off the creaming
foam the _Champlain_ was bearing him so much nearer home. Then he
turned and, because a half-moon hung low in the sky, noticed that there
was another dark figure close beside him. It was Tom Allardyce, and
when the man moved his head his face still showed worn and drawn, but
his eyes seemed to shine, and it was with a curious little sigh that
bespoke a great content he stretched out his hand and pointed to the
south.
"She's footing it bravely--and taking us home," he said. "Many a time
I've wondered what it would feel like--up there--when there wasn't much
use worrying over things of that kind."
"It must have been beastly," said Niven, feeling that this very
inadequately expressed his sympathy, and the man's voice was a trifle
strained as he answered him.
"It's behind me now, and the folks I left down there in Vancouver are
alive and waiting for me. It's--kind of wonderful, but Ned Jordan fixed
it all. Well, I'm not the only one who'll bless the _Champlain_ and
him."
Niven felt curiously moved as he went down into the hold, and long
afterwards the memory of the lonely man staring south across the dusky
sea from the bows of the _Champlain_ returned to him. Just then,
however, his blood was tingling with exultation. He, too, was going
home, and there were folks in England waiting to welcome him.
Next day it was blowing tolerably fresh, but though the spray whirled
about them and the seas frothed white behind, not an inch of canvas was
taken in, and it was with a little smile in his haggard face that Tom
Allardyce held the wheel. As it happened the favouring wind swept south
with them, and one morning a cry brought every man on deck.
"There, that's _British Columbia_," said Stickine when the lads stared
over the rail. "She'd most have licked the C.P.R. steamer."
Looking east the lads could see a great white rampart lifted high
against the sky. Drifting mists cut it off from the world below, and
here and there the fires of sunrise burned up from behind it through the
hollows between the peaks. No light, however, touched the western snow
as yet, and it shone ethereally majestic in its blue-white purity. Then
a single golden ray streamed heavenward like a flash of a celestial
beacon, and the lads watched it in wondering silence held still almost
in awe, and forgot the limitless sweep of prairie, rock and forest that
lay between those mountains' eastern slope and Montreal, until
Stickine'e voice reminded them that they had still work to do.
"She'd go home faster, boys, with another foot of main-sheet in," he
said, cheerily.
It was a week later when one night they crept past Port Parry before a
faint wind. Ahead the lights of Victoria blinked at them, and every now
and then a smoky haze drove athwart the moon, while Appleby, watching
the dusky shore slide by, could almost have fancied it was once more the
night he and Niven had been blown away from the _Aldebaran_. She was
not there, however, and though the scene was the same he and his comrade
had changed. They had seen things few men have looked upon up in the
misty seas, and the spirit of the silent North had set its stamp on
them, giving them gravity in place of boyish exuberance, and for the
quality Niven had esteemed as dash the sterner, colder courage of
steadfastness.
Presently a sailing-boat came flitting towards them, and a man in her
waved his liaud.
"Hello, Jordan! Going straight across?" he said.
"Oh, yes," said Jordan, who seemed to recognize the voice. "I'm getting
along as fast as I can, though there's not much wind. Have you anything
for us?"
"No," said the man. "I just wanted to make sure of you. Holway of
Vancouver asked me to wire him if I saw you pass."
"Well," said Jordan, "what has it to do with him?"
"I don't know," said the other man, as the boat dropped astern. "Still,
he seemed quite anxious to hear when you were coming."
Jordan turned to Stickine. "There's something I don't understand. I
don't owe a dollar to Holway or anybody."
Niven heard a little chuckle, and drew Appleby away as he saw that
Donegal was grinning at them. "I fancy Ned Jordan will get a surprise
to-morrow. It's you and I Holway is anxious about," said he.
An hour later Jordan called them into the little cabin. "We'll be in
to-morrow, and have got to have a talk," he said. "Now, I've a use
onboard the _Champlain_ for lads like you, and would be open to take you
again next season, but"--and he looked at Niven--"you'll be hearing from
your folks in the old country?"
"Yes, sir," said Niven, checking a smile with difficulty, as he glanced
at Appleby. "I fancy they will want me home again."
"It would cost a good many dollars to take you there, and this is a
great country for a young man who wants to make his living," said
Jordan. "You figure they will send you them?"
"Yes, sir," said Niven gravely. "I believe they will."
"Well," said Jordan, "in the meanwhile you can come home with me. That
leaves your partner out, and he turned to Appleby. "Now, if you're open
to sail north again it's quite likely I might get you something to do
this winter on the wharf or in a mill, and I guess Mrs. Jordan could
find room in the house for you."
Appleby felt the kindliness which had prompted this offer to one whom
the skipper evidently believed to be a destitute lad, and his face
flushed a little.
"It is very good of you, sir, but I fancy my contract with the
shipowners is binding still," he said. "Anyway, I would like to write
and ask Mr. Niven."
Jordan nodded. "One has to do the square thing. Take your time, my lad,
and I'll put you in the way of earning your keep in the meanwhile."
Then Niven stood up. "I fancy he will go ashore with me to-morrow,
sir," he said. "That is why, as I may not have another opportunity, I
want to thank you for the kindness you have shown us both. I believe
that others, as well as Appleby and I, will always be grateful to you."
Jordan looked at him curiously, and then made a little gesture of
impatience. "Now, that's a kind of talking I've no use for, and you've
earned everything you got out of me. You'll let me know what you're
going to do to-morrow, Appleby."
They went back to their duties, Niven chuckling over something with
evident delight, and it was next day when they crept past the pines on
Beaver Point, into view of the clustering roofs of Vancouver. As they
slid into the blue inlet a boat came pulling towards them, and while the
mainsail peak swung down a gentleman climbed on board. Jordan, who
recognized him as one of the wealthiest merchants of that city, nodded
in salute, and then stared at him in astonishment.
"You'll know me, Captain Jordan, though I've not had the pleasure of
talking to you before," he said. "I've come for the two lads you picked
up, and with your permission I'd like to take them now. Niven's father
has asked me to look after them, and you'll find them at my house any
time you want them the next few days."
[Illustration: "'I'VE COME FOR THE TWO LADS YOU PICKED UP.'"]
Jordan seemed to gasp, Stickine nodded, and Donegal smiled curiously as
he glanced at the skipper.
"I could let them off their work to-day, though they're not through
yet," said Jordan. "Still, I was figuring on their going along with me.
They might worry Mrs. Holway, and my wife is used to lads from the
schooners."
The merchant, who laid his hand on Niven's shoulder, laughed a little.
"I scarcely fancy they'll go to sea as sealers again," he said. "Boys,
we'll go right along, and you needn't worry about your things. We'll
get you an outfit at a store in the city."
The lads shook hands with Jordan, who had apparently not yet recovered
from his astonishment, and only looked at them gravely when Niven said,
"Thank you for letting us off, sir, and I'll just bid you good-morning
now, because we're coming down to see you and the boys again."
Then they sprang into the boat, and Jordan shook his head bewilderedly
as they pulled away. "Well, I'm jim-banged--and that lad was talking
straight all the while," he said. "Going along to stay with one of the
biggest men in Vancouver City!"
"Sure," said Donegal, "an' who would take better care av the son av a
ducal earl?"
In the meanwhile Niven and Appleby went home with Mr. Holway to a very
pretty wooden house on the hill above the city, where they revelled in
the luxury of a bath with hot water and clean towels, and new clothes,
though it took them an hour or two to get used to the tight collars that
galled their necks. The merchant and his wife were also very kind to
them, and when they concluded the recountal of their adventures late
that night, Niven said, "Now, there's one thing I would like, and that
would be to do something for all of them. I feel quite sure my father
would be pleased with it."
Mr. Holway nodded. "I believe he would. In fact, he wrote me to make
the skipper any recompense that appeared advisable. The trouble,
however, is that things are different here from what they are in the old
country, and these men earn dollars enough themselves to resent any
attempt to pay them for a kindness."
"Still, it could be managed somehow," said Niven.
"Yes," said Mr. Holway, "I believe it could. We can find out if the
skipper wants, for example, a good sextant, and I've a notion that the
men would be pleased if you gave them a farewell dinner. It would show
that you still looked upon yourself as one of them."
"Yes," said Niven, "that would be the best thing."
When they next saw Jordan he was squaring accounts with the men, and
apparently too busy to do more than nod to them. They accordingly
waited among the rest, who were dressed much as they were in neat, new
clothes, and had only the bronze in their, faces and the steadiness of
their eyes, to show they were from the sea, until at last he drew his
pen through two lines on the roll on the table in front of him.
"Christopher Niven and Thomas Appleby," he said, holding out two little
piles of silver coins with a few bills beneath them on a document.
"Look through that, and tell me if it's all quite straight before you
sign it."
Niven flushed a trifle as he said, "I don't fancy we should take the
dollars, sir."
Jordan looked at him somewhat grimly. "I've a good deal to put through,
and no use for talking," he said. "You made the deal the night I found
you, and they're yours, my lad."
The lads took the dollars, and found Mr. Holway waiting for them when
they went out. He glanced at the handfuls of coin, and laughed a little
as he asked, "Whose are all those dollars?"
"They're mine," said Niven, with a trace of pride in his smile. "I've
earned them, and I fancy it would astonish the folks at home. My father
used to tell me now and then that I'd never have a shilling that wasn't
given me. Now take me to one of your biggest shops, because I'm going
to buy my mother a brooch or a bracelet with the first money I ever
earned in my life."
The merchant nodded gravely. "I fancy that would only be the square
thing," he said. "Now, I was keeping myself and my sister when I was
younger than you."
The bracelet was bought, and during the day Niven sent a note down to
the schooner, while on the next evening they and the sealers sat down to
a very elaborate dinner in a big room of the Canadian Pacific Hotel.
They were all of them present, and nobody appeared in any way
uncomfortable or ill at ease in his unusual clothes, for the life they
led had made them men, which is very much the same and occasionally a
greater thing than gentlemen. In fact, Niven felt curiously abashed
when before they went into the dining room he spread out before them the
things he had brought. There was a silver-mounted sextant for Jordan, a
knife that most sealers coveted with an inlaid handle for Stickine, a
watch for Donegal, and boxes of tobacco for every one of the rest.
"I'd like you to take these little things just to remember us by," he
said diffidently. "I wouldn't have asked you if they had been of any
value, but it would be good of you to keep them, because you have,
though of course it isn't for that, done a good deal for Appleby and
me."
Donegal's eyes twinkled. "Tis twice, anyway, I've run ye round the deck
wid a rope's end, and I would have licked ye often if 'twould have been
of any use," he said. "Sure, we'll take them and remember ye. 'Tis not
every day the son av a ducal earl goes sealing with me."
Then they went in to dinner, and when Niven had insisted on Jordan
taking the head of the table most of them made a somewhat astonishing
meal, that is, to those who did not know how the sealers ate and worked.
Afterwards there were a few speeches, but these were to the point and
short.
"Mr. Niven and boys," said Jordan. "I've had a good company with me
this run, and the next time I go to sea I don't want a better one. I'm
counting the lads in, and we'll feel kind of lonely without them when
they go back to the old country. That's 'bout all. I'm not much use at
talking."
Then Donegal stood up and rubbed his coppery hair. "Sure," he said,
"'tis rough on me. They're taking my bhoys away--just when me and
Stickine was licking them into men. Still, I'll be bearing it better if
'tis credit they're doing us in the old country. Boys, ye will not go
back on Donegal, and if sealing has taught ye anything 'tis this that's
at the bottom of the scheme: 'Thrue hearts is worth more than silver
spoons,' an if that's not quite what the pote said it's what he was
meaning."
It was getting late, and there was a pause in the laughter, when Niven
rose up. "I wish I could talk as I want to--but now when I've so much
to tell you I can't," he said, standing with flushed face and eyes
shining at the foot of the table. "Still, before we go I want you to
join in a last good wish with me. Boys, here's long life to Ned
Jordan."
There was a roar, and the voices rang through it one by one. "The man
who beat the Russians and the Americans too. The skipper who never went
back on his crew. Ned Jordan of the _Champlain_ who brought me home
again!"
Niven long remembered them standing about the long table with the
sea-bronze in their faces and the pride in their eyes that were turned
on Jordan. At last he once more stood up awkwardly.
"Boys," he said simply, "I couldn't have done nothing without the rest
of you, and with the same men behind me it wouldn't be very much to do
it all again."
Then they went out, shaking hands with Niven and Appleby, who stood in
the great hall of the hotel, to bid farewell to them. Last of all came
Jordan, and he stopped a moment.
"I've been wrong a good many times in my life, Mr. Niven, and that makes
it the easier to tell you I was more club-headed than usual 'bout you,"
he said. "Still, I figure there's nothing but good feeling between us
now, and you'll not forget Ned Jordan if you come back again."
Then he went down the pathway, and the two lads stood still, until from
out of the darkness down by the water-front a voice they knew raised a
song and the last of it came faintly up to them--
"Shining gold in heaps, I'm told,
On the bunks of Sacramento."
Niven glanced at Appleby, and his voice was not quite steady as he said,
"Starting home to-morrow--and we'll not see any of them again. Well,
I'm sorry."
"Yes," said Appleby quietly. "I feel that way too."
*CHAPTER XXII*
*THE RESULT OF THE CHOICE*
The Montreal express was waiting to commence its six days' eastward
journey when Appleby and Niven stood in the C.P.R. station next
afternoon. The lads, however, scarcely noticed the great locomotive and
long cars, or the roofs of the city that rose row and row up the face of
the hill with the ragged spires of the sombre pines towering high above
them. They were looking out on the blue inlet which, streaked in places
by the smoke of the mills, lay shining in the sun, with dusky forests
and a lofty line of snow beyond. Broad in the foreground rode the
_Champlain_, looking very small and dainty with her bare masts standing
high above the sweep of bulwarks, and they could recognize the men
stripping the canvas off her. Behind her with the beaver ensign
streaming at her peak another schooner was beating in, and Niven smiled
curiously as he followed her with his eyes.
"It's the _Argo_," he said. "We'll be off in a minute or two--and of
course I'm glad we're going home. Still, it hurts a little to leave it
all behind."
Appleby nodded, for he fancied he knew what Niven was feeling, and it
was with a faint sigh he turned towards the cars.
"It will be a long time before I forget the _Champlain_," he said.
"Still, you see we couldn't be sealers."
Then a big bell commenced ringing, and Mr. Holway came up. "Here are
your ticket coupons right through to Liverpool, and the Allan boat will
sail an hour or two after you get to Montreal," he said. "Better take
your places."
They shook hands with him while the big engine panted, and swung
themselves on to the platform of the nearest car. It lurched forward,
Mr. Holway waving his hand to them, slid away behind, wharf and mill
went by, but they still stood out on the platform looking back at the
_Champlain_, until with a sudden roar of wheels the train swept into the
shadow of the pines that shut out blue inlet and schooner from their
sight. Then Niven sighed a little and Appleby looked at him with a
curious little smile.
"That's the last of her, Chriss," he said. "We've got to look forward
now."
They were, however, soon too occupied for any vague regrets, and that
journey from ocean to ocean over British soil excited their wonder and
now and then brought them a little thrill of pride. Hour by hour the
cars went lurching through the shadow of great pine-forests, and up an
awful chasm with a river foaming far away below, swung over dizzy
trestles, and past flashing glaciers through a tremendous desolation of
rock and ice and snow that no man's foot had ever trodden. Still, the
valleys were sprinkled with little wooden towns from which there rose
the scream of saws and the smoke of mines, while when two great engines
hauled them slowly in snake-like curves up to the Selkirk passes the
lads stood gazing in silent awe at the white peaks above them.
"The men who built this road would stick at nothing," said Niven with a
little gasp of wonder as he glanced back at the shining metals which lay
apparently straight beneath him.
Later, with a roar of wheels flung back from the dark rocks that had for
centuries barred off from the prairie the wild mountain land, they
climbed the Kicking Horse defile beside a frothing river, and went
roaring down into the rolling hills on the Rockies' eastern side. These,
too, swept back and faded, and they were racing eastwards straight as
the crow flies across the prairie.
Little wooden stations, herds of sheep and cattle, lonely mounted men
seen miles away, were left behind, and still hour by hour the great
white levels stretched away. From the dawn that flushed red before them
until the sunset flamed behind, the gaunt telegraph poles and shining
metals that led straight on came flying back to them, and there was no
change in the white waste the moonlight shone upon. Then they ran
through yellow stubble where the splendid wheat had been, past lonely
homesteads, lines of toiling teams, and clouds of dust and blue smoke
where the thrashers were working in the field, until they rolled across
a great river into Winnipeg City.
There they stopped an hour or two, and afterwards ran past vast blue
lakes into the forests again, swept across wooden bridges over frothing
rivers, until the lads clinging to the platform looked down on an inland
sea when the dusty cars went lurching along the Superior shore over a
road riven out of the adamantine granite that had been paid for with
brave men's lives. By and by they came out of the wilderness again, and
swept through green Ontario past wooden farms and orchards into
Montreal, where they had decided to join the steamer, though they could
have done so nearer the sea. They were, however, stiff and aching, and
glad to stretch their limbs, while Niven stared about him in wonder as
they walked through Montreal and stopped a moment outside the great
cathedral.
"It's a city of palaces and churches, and there's no dust and smoke at
all," he said. "I never fancied they'd places of this kind in Canada.
Well, we'll go on to the steamer as soon as we've worked out the kinks
we got in the cars."
The steamer went down the river soon after they reached her, and it was
an hour or two before the lads felt at home on board her. She seemed so
big and high above the water after the _Champlain_, and they felt almost
abashed and out of place amidst the luxury of the great saloons. That
did not, however, last long, and there was much to occupy them, the huge
rafts of timber with houses on them, barges piled with hay until they
resembled a drifting farmyard, the countless islands they steamed among,
and the tin-roofed villages along the wooded shores. Then they stopped
where the river narrows under the battlements of Quebec, and saw the
crowded roofs of the city climb the slopes of the plateau where Wolfe
won that great Dominion for England.
After that the river grew broader, until at last they rolled out past
the rocks of Labrador into the Atlantic, and it was scarcely a fortnight
since they left Vancouver when one night the liner steamed into the
Mersey. Rows of lights blinked at them through the smoke and drizzle,
whistles screamed, steamers crowded with passengers went by, and at last
the tender swung alongside. Then amidst the bustle and confusion a
gentleman forcing his way through the groups of travellers grasped
Appleby's hand, and he saw his comrade, who did not seem abashed as he
once would have done, being hugged publicly by Mrs. Niven.
In another minute she had turned to Appleby, and Mr. Niven led both of
them under a big electric light. He stared hard at them, and then smiled
at his wife.
"Well," he said slowly, "these are not the lads we sent away. The sea
has done a good deal for them, and if I hadn't been looking for him I
would scarcely have known my son."
It was a very happy party the tender took ashore, and for several days
Mrs. Niven, who regaled the lads with dainties and fussed over them,
would scarcely let Chriss out of her sight. On the third night,
however, Mr. Niven called them into his own room.
"And now it's about time we had a little talk," he said with a trace of
dryness in his smile, as, lighting a cigar, he laid the box on the
table. "You can take one if you like. No doubt you know the flavour by
this time, and it would take a good deal to hurt you now."
Chriss grinned at Appleby. "As a matter of fact we found that out at
Sandycombe, sir, though the results were very far from encouraging," he
said.
"No?" said Mr. Niven.
Appleby laughed. "I lost a good chance of winning the quarter-mile, and
Chriss spent two Saturdays writing lines."
"I understand," said Mr. Niven dryly, "that you didn't get many luxuries
on board the _Aldebaran_."
"We didn't," said Chriss. "Still, after a month or so, there wasn't
much we couldn't eat except the stuff in one barrel the pickle had run
out of. Appleby tried it once when we hadn't had anything worth
mentioning for a week. Tom, how long did you revel in that pork?"
"About two minutes," said Appleby. "Eating it wasn't quite as nice as
skinning holluschackie."
Mr. Niven nodded, but there was a twinkle in his eyes, and once more he
noticed the steadiness with which they returned his gaze, and that
though they smiled there was a new gravity in their sea-tanned faces.
"I fancy you have found out how much one can do without, and that is a
good deal gained," he said. "Still, all that is beside the question, for
I want to know right off how you like the sea, and I've no use for
anything but the straightest kind of talking."
Chriss seemed a trifle astonished. "That was just how Ned Jordan
spoke," he said.
Mr. Niven laughed. "You may remember that I have been over a good deal
of Canada on business and in Vancouver. In fact, you may do so too. It
depends on your answer to my question."
Chriss sat silent for almost a minute in place of speaking at once,
which is more than he would have done before he went to sea. Then he
answered very slowly.
"Well, I like the sea, and would be willing to go back again, but
not--if it could be helped--in the _Aldebaran_. Still, after what I
have seen of it, I fancy I could be quite content to live ashore if
there were other things for me to do."
"Even if people laughed at you for swallowing the anchor, which I
believe is how they put it?" asked Mr. Niven.
Chriss laughed without any sign of confusion or embarrassment, and his
father noticed it. "One doesn't mind a little banter after being kicked
with seaboots, and growled at all day for weeks. You don't fancy it
would matter greatly if they did?"
"Not in the least," said Mr. Niven with dry approval, "In fact, the man
who does not mind being made fun of has often the best cause for
laughing. So you would go back to sea if I told you to?"
"Yes, sir," said Chriss. "Still, if you fancied it would be better I
would stay ashore."
"Then," said Mr. Niven, "we'll decide on the latter. You might after
years of hard work, and if you were very fortunate, make five hundred
pounds a year at sea, but while there are thousands of lads in the
country who would be very content with the prospect of getting it, there
are considerably fewer who have your opportunities, and by and by I
shall want somebody to take up my business after me. If you are to do
it you must begin at once at the bottom, do what you are told, and make
your way upwards slowly as you would at sea. Now, then, would it suit
you to go down to my office at nine o'clock the day after to-morrow?"
"Yes, sir," said Chriss. "It would."
"Then," said Mr. Niven, "that will do in the meanwhile, though we will
have a good deal to talk about later. Now, Appleby, you have heard what
I proposed to Chriss, and we can find room for you. I will see you get
a fair start in life--and what it may lead to afterwards will depend
largely upon yourself."
Appleby's answer was quiet but resolute. "I have to thank you, sir, but
I am afraid I should never be quite contented away from the sea."
"Don't be hasty," said Mr. Niven. "It's a hard life, but you know that
better than I do. I also fancy that if you serve me well you will be a
richer man by and by than you ever would be at sea."
Appleby looked at him steadily. "I've been considering ever since I
left the _Aldebaran_, sir. It's hard enough--but I can't help fancying
it is the life that is best for me."
Mr. Niven nodded gravely. "Then you are right in going back, but we'll
try to find you a more comfortable ship. Well, we have decided quite
enough for one night, and I fancy Mrs. Niven is waiting for you."
The lads went out, and though both of them afterwards found there was
now and then need of all their courage and endurance in the lives they
led neither regretted the decision they had made. Niven went into his
father's office, and Appleby back to sea, while a good many things
happened to both of them before the former, who was now a partner,
returned on business to Vancouver. The day after he got there he stood
on the wharf with Mr. Holway. It was crowded with travellers making for
a steamer on the point of sailing, for the Montreal express had just
come in, but Niven was watching the trail of swiftly-moving smoke that
smeared the blue sky behind the great pines on Beaver Point.
"That will be her by the pace she's making," he said.
Mr. Holway nodded. "Yes. They're wonderful boats," he said. "It's a
long way to Japan, but they keep their time like a clock, and they'll
not check the engines until she's close up to the wharf."
"Twin screws," said Niven. "Still, with the barque yonder there's very
little room to swing a big vessel in, though, of course, he could scrape
past the schooner and back one propeller."