IMPRISONED BY AN ICEBERG.
The brief northern summer was nearly ended. Its days were growing
short and chill, its nights long and cold. The month of October was
well advanced, and flurries of snow heralded the approach of winter.
Most of the Labrador fishing fleet had already sailed away, and the few
boats still left were preparing for a speedy departure. The last
steamer of the season had come and gone, and the few permanent
residents of the country were moving back from the coast into winter
quarters. Great flocks of geese streamed southward, and with harsh
cries gave warning of the icy terrors that had driven them from their
Arctic nesting places. Night after night the wonderful beauties of the
aurora borealis were flashed across the northern heavens with ever
increasing brilliancy. Every one predicted a hard winter, and
everything pointed to its early coming.
Nearly two months had elapsed since the little schooner "Sea Bee,"
manned by a couple of plucky lads, sailed out of Battle Harbour on a
trading venture to the northern missions, and from that day no tidings
had been received concerning her. The few who remembered her,
occasionally speculated as to what success she had met and why she had
not put in ah appearance on her return voyage, but generally dismissed
the subject by saying that she must have been in too great a hurry to
get south, as any one having a chance to leave that forsaken country
naturally would be. But the "Sea Bee" had not gone to the southward,
nor was there any likelihood of her doing so for many long months to
come.
On one of the mildest of these October days, when the sunshine still
held a trace of its summer warmth, a solitary figure stood on the crest
of a bald headland, some hundreds of miles to the north of Battle
Harbour, gazing wistfully out over the lead-coloured waters that came
leaping and snarling towards the red rocks far beneath him. He had on
great sea boots that stood sadly in need of mending, and was clad in
heavy woollens, faded and worn, that showed many a rent and patch. As
he leaned on the stout staff that had assisted him in climbing, his
figure seemed bent as though by age, but when he lifted his, face,
tanned brown by long exposure, the downy moustache on his upper lip
proclaimed his youth. Altogether the change in his appearance was so
great that his most intimate friend would hardly have recognised in him
the youth who had been called the best dressed man in the T. I. class
of '99 a few months earlier. But the voice with which he finally broke
the silence of his long reverie was unmistakably that of Cabot Grant.
[Illustration: A solitary figure stood on the crest of a bald headland.]
"Heigh ho!" he sighed, as he cast a sweeping glance over the widespread
waste of waters on which nothing floated save a few belated icebergs,
and then inland over weary miles of desolate upland barrens, treeless,
moss-covered, and painfully rugged. "It is tough luck to be shut up
here like birds in a cage, with no chance of the door being opened
before next summer. It is tougher on Baldwin, though, than on me, and
if he can stand it I guess I can. But I suppose I might as well be
getting back or he will be worrying about me."
Thus saying, Cabot picked up a canvas bag that lay at his feet and
moved slowly away.
A very serious misfortune had befallen our lads, and for more than a
month the "Sea Bee," though still afloat and as sound as ever, had been
unable to move from the position she now occupied. After leaving
Battle Harbour her voyage to the northward had not been more than
ordinarily eventful, though subject to many and irritating delays. Not
only had there been adverse winds, but she had twice been stormbound
for days in harbours to which she had run for shelter. Then, too,
White had insisted on stopping at every settlement that promised a
chance for trading, and had even run fifty miles up Hamilton Inlet with
the hope of finding customers for his goods at the half-breed village
of Rigoulette. But he had always been disappointed. Either his goods
were not in demand, or those who desired them had nothing to offer in
exchange but fish, which he did not care to take. And always he was
told of a scarcity of food still farther north. So the voyage had been
continued in that direction along a coast that ever grew wilder,
grander, and more inhospitable.
In the meantime Cabot was delighted at the opportunities thus given him
for getting acquainted with the country, and made short exploring trips
from every port at which they touched. From some of these he came back
sadly bitten by the insect pests of the interior, and from others he
brought quantities of blueberries, pigeon berries that looked and
tasted like wild cranberries, or yellow, raspberry-like "bake apples,"
resembling the salmon berries of Alaska. Also he picked up numerous
rock and mineral specimens that he afterwards carefully labelled.
Finally, when they had passed the last fishing station of which they
had any knowledge, and had only the missions to look forward to, they
were overtaken, while far out at sea, by a furious gale that sorely
buffeted them for twenty-four hours, and, in spite of their strenuous
efforts, drove them towards the coast. The gale was accompanied by
stinging sleet and blinding snow squalls, and at length blew with such
violence that they could no longer show the smallest patch of canvas.
In this emergency White constructed a sea anchor, by means of which he
hoped to prolong their struggle for at least a few hours. It was
hardly got overboard, however, before a giant surge snapped its cable
and hurled the little craft helplessly towards the crash and smother
with which the furious seas warred against an iron coast.
In addition to the other perils surrounding our lads, the gloom of
impending night was upon them, and they could only dimly distinguish
the towering cliffs against which they expected shortly to be dashed.
Both of them stood by the tiller, grimly silent, and using the last of
their strength to keep their craft head on, for in the trough of that
awful sea she would have rolled over like a log. Neither of them
flinched nor showed a sign of fear, though both fully realised the fate
awaiting them.
At last, with the send of a giant billow, the little schooner was flung
bodily into the roaring whiteness, and, with hearts that seemed already
to have ceased their beating, the poor lads braced themselves for the
final shock. To their unbounded amazement the "Sea Bee," instead of
dashing against the cliffs, appeared to pass directly into them as
though they were but shadows of a solid substance, and in another
minute had shot, like an arrow from a bow, through a rift barely wide
enough to afford her passage.
As her stupefied crew slowly realised that a reprieve from death had
been granted at the last moment, they also became aware that they were
in a place of absolute darkness, and, save for the muffled outside roar
of furious seas, of absolute quiet. At the same time they were so
exhausted after their recent prolonged struggle that they found barely
strength to get overboard an anchor. Then, careless of everything
else, they tumbled into their bunks for the rest and sleep they so
sadly needed.
When they next awoke it was broad daylight, and their first move was to
hasten on deck for a view of their surroundings. Their craft lay as
motionless as a painted ship, in the middle of a placid pool black as a
highland tarn. In no place was it more than a pistol shot in width,
and it was enclosed by precipitous cliffs that towered hundreds of feet
above her. The schooner could not have been more happily located by
one possessed of an absolute knowledge of the coast under the most
favourable conditions, and that she should have come there as she had
was nothing short of a miracle.
Filled with thankfulness for their marvellous escape the lads gazed
about them curious to discover by what means they had gained this haven
of refuge. On three sides they could see only the grim fronts of
inaccessible cliffs. On the fourth was a strip of beach and a cleft
through which poured a plume-like waterfall white as a wreath of driven
snow.
"Did we come in that way?" asked Cabot, pointing to this torrent of
silver spray.
"I suppose we must have," rejoined White soberly; "for I can't see any
other opening, and it certainly felt last night as though we were
sailing over the brink of a dozen waterfalls. But let's get breakfast,
for I'm as hungry as a wolf. Then there'll be time enough to find out
how we got in here, as well as how we are to get out again."
After a hearty meal they got the dinghy overboard and started on a tour
of exploration. First they visited the beach and found a rude pathway
leading up beside the waterfall that promised exit from the basin to an
active climber.
"In spite of all the wonderful happenings of last night I don't believe
we came in that way," said Cabot.
"No," laughed White, "the old 'Bee's' wings aren't quite strong enough
for that yet, though there's no saying what she may do with practice."
Satisfied that there was no outlet for a sailing craft in this
direction, they pulled towards the opposite side of the basin, but not
until they were within a few rods of its cliffs did they discover an
opening which was so black with shadow that it had heretofore escaped
their notice.
"Here it is," cried Cabot, "though----"
His speech was cut suddenly short, and for a moment he stared in silent
amazement. The farther end of the passage was completely filled by
what appeared a gigantic mass of white rock.
"An iceberg!" exclaimed the young skipper, who was the first to
recognise the true nature of the obstacle. "An iceberg driven in by
the gale and jammed. Now we are in a fix."
"I should say as much," responded Cabot, "for there isn't space enough
to let a rowboat out, much less a schooner. No wonder this water is as
still as that in a corked bottle. What shall we do now?"
"Wait until it melts, I suppose," replied White gloomily, "or until the
outside seas batter it away."
So our lads had waited unhappily and impatiently for more than a month,
and still the ice barrier was as immovable as ever. Also, as the
weather was growing steadily cooler, its melting became less and less
with each succeeding day.
During this period of enforced imprisonment they had made several
exploring trips into the interior, but had failed to find trace of
human life; nor were they able to go far either north or south on
account of impassable waterways. Neither could they discover any
timber from which to obtain firewood, and as the supply on the schooner
was nearly exhausted their outlook for the future grew daily more and
more gloomy.
For a while they had hoped to signal some passing vessel, and one or
the other of them made daily trips to the most prominent headland of
the vicinity, where he kept a lookout for hours. But this also proved
fruitless, for but two vessels had been sighted, and neither of these
paid any attention to their signals.
Thus the open season passed, and with the near approach of an Arctic
winter the situation of our imprisoned lads grew so desperate that they
were filled with the gloomiest forebodings.