_While Billy Topsail is About His Own Business Archie
Armstrong Stands on the Bridge of the Dictator and
Captain Hand Orders "Full Speed Ahead!" on the Stroke
of Twelve._
AND so it came to pass that, at near midnight of the tenth of March,
Archie Armstrong, warmly clad in furs, and fairly on fire with
excitement, was aboard the staunch old sealer, at Long Tom, half way
up the east coast. It was blowing half a gale from the open sea,
which lay, hidden by the night, just beyond the harbour rocks. The
wind was stinging cold, as though it had swept over immense areas of
ice, dragging the sluggish fields after it. It howled aloft, rattled
over the decks, and flung the smoke from the funnel into the darkness
inland. Archie breasted it with the captain and the mate on the bridge;
and he was impatient as they to be off from the sheltered water, fairly
started in the race for the north, though a great gale was to be
weathered.
"Good-bye, Skipper John," he had said to John Roth, with whom he had
spent the three days of waiting in this small outport. "I'll send you
two white-coats (young seals) for Aunt Mary's sitting room, when I get
back."
"I be past me labour, b'y," replied John, who was, indeed, now beyond
all part in the great spring harvest, "but I'll give you the toast o'
the old days. 'Red decks, an' many o' them!'"
"Red decks," cried Archie, quoting the old proverb, "make happy homes."
"'Tis that," said old John, striking the ground with his staff. "An' I
wish I was goin' along with you, b'y. There's no sealin' skipper like
Cap'n Hand."
The ship was now hanging off shore, with steam up and the anchor snugly
stowed. Not before the stroke of twelve of that night was it permitted
by the law to clear from Long Tom. Fair play was thus assured to all,
and the young seals were protected from an untimely attack. It was a
race from all the outports to the ice, with the promise of cargoes of
fat to stiffen courage and put a will for work in the hearts of men:
for a good catch, in its deeper meaning, is like a bounteous harvest;
and what it brings to the wives and little folk in all the cottages of
that cruel coast is worth the hardship and peril.
"What's the time, Mr. Ackell?" said the captain to the mate,
impatiently.
"Lacks forty-three minutes o' the hour, sir," was the reply.
"Huh!" growled the captain. "'Tis wonderful long in passin'."
"The whole harbour must be down to see the start," Archie observed
looking to the shore.
"More nor that, b'y," said the captain. "I've got a Green Bay crew.
Most two hundred men o' them, an' every last one o' them a mighty man.
They's folk here from all the harbours o' the bay t' see us off. Hark
t' the guns they're firin'!"
All the folk left in Long Tom--the women and children and old men--were
at the water-side; with additions from Morton's Harbour, Burnt Bay,
Exploits and Fortune Harbour. Sailing day for the sealers! It was the
great event of the year. Torches flared on the flakes and at the stages
all around the harbour. The cottages were all illuminated with tallow
candles. Guns were discharged in salute. "God speed!" was shouted from
shore to ship; and you may be sure that the crew was not slow to return
the good wishes. Archie marked one man in particular--a tall, lean
fellow, who was clinging to the main shrouds, and shouting boisterously.
"Well, we can't lose Tuttle," said the mate, with a grin, indicating
the man in the shrouds.
The captain frowned; and Archie wondered why. But he thought no more
of the matter at the moment--nor, indeed, until he met Tuttle face to
face--for the wind was now blowing high; and that was enough to think
of.
"Let it blow," said bluff Captain Hand. "'Tis not the _wind_ I cares
about, b'y. 'Tis the ice. I reckon there's a field o' drift ice
offshore. This nor'east gale will jam the harbour in an hour, an' I
don't want t' be trapped here What's the time, now, Mr. Ackell?"
"Twenty-seven minutes yet, sir."
"Take her up off Skull Head. That's within the law."
The drift ice was coming in fast. There was a small field forming about
the steamer, and growing continuously. Out to sea, the night-light now
revealed a floe advancing with the wind, threatening to seal tight the
narrow harbour entrance.
"If we have t' cut our way out," muttered the captain, "we'll cut as
little as we can. Mr. Girth!" he roared to the second mate, "get the
bombs out. An' pick a crew that knows how t' use 'em."
The _Dictator_ moved forward through the gathering ice towards Skull
Head; and the three other steamers, whose owners had chosen to make the
start from Long Tom, followed slyly on her heels, evidently hoping to
get to sea in her wake, for she was larger than they. When her engines
were stopped off the Head, it lacked twelve minutes of sailing time.
An unbroken field of ice lay beyond the harbour entrance, momentarily
jammed there. Would the ship be locked in?
"Can't we run for it, sir?" asked the mate. "'Tis but seven minutes too
soon."
"No," said the captain. "We'll lie here t' midnight t' the second. Then
we'll ram that floe, if we have t'. Hear me?" he burst out, such was
the tension upon patience. "We'll ram it! We'll ram it!"
It appeared that they _would_ have to. Archie could hear the ice
crunching as the floe pressed in upon the jam. Pans were lifted out of
the water, and, under the mighty force of the mass behind, were heaped
up between the rocks on either side of the narrows. The barrier seemed
even now to be impassable; and it had yet seven minutes to gather
strength. If it should prove too great to be broken, the fleet might
be locked in for a week; and with every hour of delay the size of the
prospective catch would dwindle. The captains of the nearer vessels
were madly shouting to the old skipper of the _Dictator_ to strike
before it was too late; but he gave them no heed whatever. He stood
with his watch in his hand, waiting for the moment of midnight.
"We're caught!" cried the mate.
The captain said nothing. He was watching the jam--hoping that it would
break of its own weight.
"Three minutes, sir," said the mate.
The captain glanced at the watch in his hand. "Two an' a half," he
muttered, a moment later.
A pause.
"Midnight, sir!" cried the mate.
"Go ahead!"
Archie heard the tinkle of the bell in the engineer's room below: then
the answering signal on the bridge. The crew raised a cheer; the mate
pulled the whistle rope; there was a muffled hurrah from the shore.
"Half speed! Port a little!"
The steamer gathered headway. She was now making for the harbour
entrance on a straight course.
"Full speed!"
Then the _Dictator_ charged the barrier.