_In Which Archie Armstrong and Billy Topsail Have an
Exciting Encounter with a Big Dog Hood, and, at the
Sound of Alarm, Leave the Issue in Doubt, While the
Ice Goes Abroad and the Enemy Goes Swimming_
HAIR seals, which come out of the north with the ice in the early
spring, and drift in great herds past the rugged Newfoundland coast,
returning in April, have no close, soft fur next the skin, such as the
South Sea and Alaskan seals have. Hence, they are valued only for their
blubber, which is ground and steamed into oil, and for their skin,
which is turned into leather. They are of two kinds, the harp which is
doubtless indigenous to the great inland sea and the waters above, and
the hood, which inhabits the harsher regions of the farther north and
east. The harp is timid, gentle, gregarious, and takes in packs to the
flat, newly frozen, landward pans; the hood is fierce, quarrelsome and
solitary, grimly riding the rough glacier ice at the edge of the open
sea.
Thus the _Dictator_ lay through the night with hood ice all about the
sheltering berg.
"Hi, b'y! Get yarry (wide awake)!" cried the captain, in the morning.
Archie Armstrong was "yarry" on the instant, and he rolled out of his
berth in hot haste, not at all sure that it was not time to leave a
sinking ship in the boats. The hairy face of the old sealer, a broad,
kindly grin upon it, peered at him from the door.
"Morning, skipper!"
"Mornin' t' you, sir. An' a fine mornin' 'tis," said the captain. "Sure
a finer I never saw."
"What's become of the gale?"
"The gale's miles t' the sou'east--an' out o' sight o' these latitudes.
We're packed in the lee o' the berg, an' fast till the wind changes.
There's a family o' hoods, quarter mile t' starboard. Up, now, b'y! an'
you'll go after them with a crew after breakfast."
When Archie reached the deck, the air was limpid, frosty and still.
There was a blue sky overhead, stretching from horizon to horizon. A
waste of ice lay all about--rough, close-packed, glistening in the
sun. With the falling away of the wind the floe had lost its headway,
and had crept softly in upon the open water. The ship was held in the
grip of the pack, and must perforce remain for a time in the shadow of
the berg, where shelter from the gale of the night had been sought.
Save for the watch of that hour, the men were below, at breakfast. The
"great white silence" possessed the sea. For the boy, this silence,
vast and heavy, and the immeasurable area of broken ice, with its
pent-up, treacherous might, was as awe-impelling as the gale and the
night.
"What d'ye think, Mr. Ackell?" said the captain to the mate, when the
two came up.
Ackell looked to the northeast. "We'll have wind by noon," he replied.
"'Tis what I think," the captain agreed. "Archie, b'y, you'll have a
couple of hours, afore the ice goes abroad. Bowsprit 'll take the crew,
an' you'll do what he tells you."
Ebenezer Bowsprit, with half a dozen cronies of his own choosing, led
the way over the side, in high good humour. In the group on the deck
stood Billy Topsail. He eyed Archie with frank envy as the lad prepared
to descend to the ice; for to participate in the first hunt, generally
regarded as pure sport, was a thing greatly to be desired. He was
perceived by Archie, who was at once taken with a wish for company of
his own age.
"Captain," the boy whispered, "let the other kid come along, won't you?"
"Topsail," the captain ordered, "get a gaff, an' cut along with the
rest."
In five minutes, the boys had broken the ice of diffidence, and were
chatting like sociable magpies, as they crawled, jumped, climbed, over
the uneven pack. They were Newfoundlanders both: the same in strength,
feeling, spirit, and, indeed, experience. The one was of the remote
outports, where children are reared to toil and peril, which, with
hunger, is their heritage, and must ever be; the other was of the city,
son of the well-to-do, who, following sport for sport's sake, had made
the same ventures and become used to the same toil and peril.
"'Tis barb'rous hard walkin'," said Billy.
"Sure," replied the other. "And they're getting away ahead of us."
Ebenezer Bowsprit and his fellows, with the lust of the chase strong
upon them, were making great strides towards three black objects some
hundred yards away. It was a race; for it is a tradition that he
who strikes the first blow of the voyage will have "luck" the season
through. The boys were hopelessly behind, and they stopped to look
about them. It was then that Billy Topsail spied a patch of open water,
to the left, half hidden by the surrounding ice. It was a triangular
hole in the floe, formed by three heavy blocks, which had withstood the
pressure of the pack.
"Look!" he cried.
A head, small and alert, raised upon a thick, supple neck, appeared. A
moment later, a second head popped out of the water. They were hoods.
The young one, the pup, must lie near. The boys stood stock still until
the seals had clambered to the pack. Then they advanced swiftly. Billy
Topsail was armed with a gaff, which is a pole shod with iron at one
end and having a hook at the other; and Archie was provided with a
sealing club. They came upon the dog hood before he could escape to the
water. Perceiving this, and only on this account, he turned, snarling,
to give fight.
"I'll take him!" cried Billy.
The hood was as big as an ox--a massive, flabby, vicious beast. He
was furiously aroused, and he would now fight to the death, with no
thought of retreat. He raised himself on his flippers and reared his
head to the length of his long neck, as the boy, stepping cautiously,
gaff poised, drew near.
[Illustration: THEN HE ADVANCED UPON THE BOY.]
"Get behind him," Billy shouted to Archie.
Billy advanced fearlessly, steadily, never for a moment taking his eyes
from the hood's head. Upon that head, from the nose to the back of the
neck, the tough, bladder-like "hood" was now inflated. It was a perfect
protection; the boy might strike blow after blow without effect. The
stroke must be thrust at the throat; and it must be a stroke swiftly,
cunningly, strongly delivered. A furious hood, excited past fear, is a
match for three men. The odds were against the lad. He had been carried
away by his own daring.
But Billy made the thrust, and the seal received the point of the gaff
on his hood, as upon a shield: then advanced on his flippers, by jerky
jumps, snapping viciously. Archie cried out. But Billy had skipped
out of harm's way, and had faced about, laughing. He returned to the
attack, undismayed, though the seal reared to meet him, with bared
teeth.
"Strike!" screamed Archie.
Teeth and flippers were to be feared, and Billy had drawn nearly within
reach of both. He paused, waiting his opportunity. Archie could not
contain his excitement.
"Strike!" he cried again.
Billy struck; but the blow had no force, for he slipped, overreached,
lost his footing, and fell sprawling, almost within reach of his
adversary's teeth. The seal snarled and drew back, startled. Then he
advanced upon the boy, who had had no time to recover, much less to
scramble out of his desperate situation.
It was for Archie to act. He leaped forward from his position behind
the seal, struck the animal with full force upon the tail, and darted
out of reach. The hood snorted, and turned in a rage to face his new
assailant. Billy leaped to his feet, gaff in hand, and faced about,
panting, but ready. He was preparing to attack again, when--
"What's that?" Archie cried in alarm.
It was the boom of the ship's gun, followed by an ominous, hollow
crackling, which ran into the distance like a long peal of thunder. The
floe seemed to be turning.
"'Tis goin' abroad!" Billy shouted. "Quick, b'y! T' the ship!"
The boys had been out of sight of the ship, hidden by a shoulder of
the berg. They had not seen the flag of recall, which had been flying
for ten minutes. Again they heard the report of the gun; and they saw
Ebenezer Bowsprit and his men making shipwards with all speed. Billy
was fully aware of the danger. With another warning cry to Archie, he
started off on a run, turning from time to time to make sure that his
companion was following.
The ice was nauseatingly unstable, grinding and shifting; but no open
water had as yet appeared, though, at any moment, a lane might open up
and cut off the retreat. The floe was feeling the force of a wind in
the north, and was stirring itself from edge to edge. It would soon be
shaken into its separate parts. But with Billy Topsail leading, the
boys ran steadily over the heaving foothold, and in good time came to
the ship, which the rest of the hunting party had already boarded.
Billy Topsail was laughing.
"I don't feel that way," said Archie, "we were in a good deal of
danger."
Billy laughed louder.
"Well, we _were_, weren't we?" Archie demanded.
"Maybe," said Billy; "but you'll get used t' _that_!"
They were not a moment too soon, however; for the pack very quickly
fell apart--thus opening a way for the escape of the _Dictator_. And
meantime, the gallant old dog hood had followed the retreating figures
with his eyes: after which, well satisfied with himself, he slipped
into the water and went fishing.