_In Which Seals are Sighted and Archie Armstrong has a
Narrow Chance in the Crow's-Nest._
AT peep o' dawn the _Dictator_ made the Groais Island sealing grounds.
The day broke late and dull. The sky was a dead gray, hanging heavily
over a dark, fretful sea; and there was a threat of wind and snow in
the air.
"Ice, sir!" said the mate, poking his head into the captain's cabin,
his ceremony lost in his elation.
"Take her 'longside," cried the captain, jumping out of his berth.
"What's it like?"
"Looks like a big field o' seal ice, sir."
"Hear that, b'y?" the captain shouted to Archie, who was sitting up in
his berth, still rubbing his eyes. "A field o' ice! There'll be a hunt
t'-day. Mr. Ackell, tell the cook t' send the breakfast up here. What's
the weather?"
"Promisin' thick, sir."
When the captain and the boy went on deck, the ice was in plain
sight--many vast fields, rising over the horizon continually, so that
there seemed to be no end to it. From the crow's-nest it had been
reported to the mate, who reported to the captain, that the spars of
a three-masted ship were visible, and that the vessel was apparently
lying near the ice. That was considered bad news--and worse news yet,
when it was reported from the crow's-nest that she was flying the
house-flag of Alexander Bryan & Company, the only considerable rival of
the firm of Armstrong and Son.
"Oh, well," said the captain, making the best of it in a generous way,
"there'll be 25,000 seals in that pack, an' out o' that we ought t' bag
enough t' pay both of us for the day's work."
Archie caught sight of Billy Topsail, who was standing on the forward
deck, gazing wistfully at him; so he went forward, and the two found
much to say to each other, while the ship made for the ice under full
steam. They fought the fight with the dog hood over again; and when
Billy had acknowledged a debt to Archie's quick thought, and Archie had
repudiated it with some heat, they agreed that the old seal had been
a mighty fellow, and a game one, deserving his escape from continued
attack. Then they abandoned the subject.
"Pretty hard work on the ice," Archie observed, sagely.
"Sure!" Billy exclaimed; for that had been clear to him all his life.
"'Tis fearful dangerous, too. When my father was young, he was to the
ice in a schooner, an' they got caught with the fleet in raftin' ice[7]
offshore, up Englee way. He saw six schooners nipped; an' they were all
crushed like an egg, an' went down when the ice went abroad. His was
the only one o' all the fleet that stood the crush."
"Think you'll share with the crew, Billy?"
"I want to," Billy said with a laugh. Then, soberly: "I want to, for
I want t' get a skiff for lobster-fishin' in New Bay. They's lots o'
lobsters there, an' they's no one trappin' down that way. 'Tis a great
chance," with a sigh.
The captain beckoned Archie to the upper deck. "Tell me, now," he said,
when the boy reached his side, "can you go aloft?"
"Yes," Archie answered, laughing scornfully. "I'm no landsman!"
"True word, if you're son of your father! Then get up with the bar'l
man, an' take a trick at swatchin'. 'Tis cold work, but great sport."
"Swatching" is merely the convenient form for "seal watching." It
appeared to Archie that to swatch with the barrel man must be a highly
diverting occupation. He was not slow to mount the rope ladder to the
masthead, and slip into the cask with the swatcher, who chanced to be
Bill o' Burnt Bay and vociferously made him welcome.
"See anything yet?" asked the boy.
"I'll show you them swiles (seals) in a minute or two," Bill replied
confidently.
Archie was closely muffled in wool and fur; but the wind, which was
bitter and blowing hard, searched out the unprotected places, and in
five minutes he was crouching in the cask for shelter, only too glad to
find an excuse in the swatcher's advice.
"H-h-h-how l-l-long you been h-h-here?" he chattered.
"Sure, b'y," said Bill, with no suspicion of a shiver in his voice,
"'tis goin' on two hours, now."
"P-p-pretty cold, i-i-isn't it?"
Bill o' Burnt Bay did not reply. His eye was glued to the telescope,
which fairly shook in his hands. Then he leaned over the rim of the
cask, altogether disregarding its instability.
"Seals ho!" he roared.
A cheer went up. Looking down, Archie saw the men swarming to the deck.
"Take a look at them harps, b'y," said Bill, excitedly. "No! Starboard
the glass. There! See them?"
Archie made out a myriad of moving specks--black dots, small and great,
shifting about over a broad white surface. They were like many insects.
He saw Alexander Bryan & Company's vessel, too; and it appeared to him
that the men were just landing on the ice to attack the pack.
"That's the _Lucky Star_," Bill explained. "She's a smaller ship than
we, an' she've got about a hundred men, I s'pose. Never fear, lad,
we'll be up in time t' get our share o' the swiles."
"I-I-I-I g-g-guess I'll g-g-go down, now," said Archie.
Half an hour of exposure in the crow's-nest had chilled the lad to
numbness. His blood was running sluggishly; he was shivering; his legs
were stiff, and his hands were cold and uncertain in their grip. He
climbed out of the cask, and cleverly enough made good his footing on
the platform of the nest. It was when he essayed the descent that he
erred and faltered.
He had a full, two-handed grip on the topmast backstays, and was secure
in searching with his foot for the rope ladder lashed thereto. But when
his foot struck, he released his left hand from the stays, without
pausing to make sure that his foot was firm-fixed on the rung. His foot
missed the rung altogether, and found no place to rest. In a flash, he
had rolled over, and hung suspended by one hand, which, numb though it
was, had unexpectedly to bear the weight of his whole body.
"Be careful goin' down, b'y," he heard Bill o' Burnt Bay say.
The voice seemed to come out of a great distance. Archie knew, in a
dim way, that the attention of the man was fixed elsewhere--doubtless
on the herd of harps. Then he fell into a stupefaction of terror.
It seemed to him, in his panic, that Bill would never discover his
situation; that he must hang there, with his grip loosening, instant by
instant--until he fell.
He was speechless, incapable of action, when, by chance, Bill o' Burnt
Bay looked down. The sealer quietly reached over the cask and caught
him by the collar; then lifted him to the platform, and there held him
fast. Each looked silently, tensely, into the other's eyes.
"'Tis a cold day," said Bill, dryly.
Archie gasped.
"Tough on tender hands, b'y," said Bill.
"Yes," gasped the lad, in a hoarse whisper.
There was a long silence, through which the swatcher looked Archie in
the eye, holding him tight all the while.
"'Tis not wise t' be in a hurry, sometimes," he observed, at last.
The boy waited until he could view the necessity of descent with
composure. Then, with extreme caution, he made his way to the deck, and
went to the cabin, where he warmed himself over the stove. Apparently,
the incident had passed unnoticed from the deck. He said nothing about
it to the captain, nor to any one else; nor did Bill o' Burnt Bay, who
had an adequate conception of the sensitiveness of lads in respect to
such narrow chances.
FOOTNOTE:
[7] A floe of pans so forcibly driven by the wind as to be crowded into
layers.