A PERILOUS ADVENTURE
There are no boys in the world more plucky than the sons of the
fisher-folk of Newfoundland. If every tale of daring and heroism on the
coastal waters were related, only a bulky volume could possibly contain
them. There seems to be no fear in the hearts of these lads, and their
endurance in times of distress is amazing.
At the time of writing there comes to hand a story of the sufferings
of two boys living at Harbour Breton who, a few weeks ago, strayed in
a dory from the fishing-grounds. Sometimes a fog will suddenly spread
itself over the fishing-grounds, thus making the return to land a very
difficult and hazardous task to inexperienced juveniles. One of these
treacherous fogs had set in on this occasion, and in rowing to land,
as they thought, the boys were unfortunate enough to lose their way.
For four days and three nights they tugged at the oars of their little
boat, and at last reached the land near La Poile in an exhausted and
almost starving condition.
When the boys saw the shroud of fog enveloping the fishing-grounds
they pulled up the “killok,” and evidently, as they thought, began to
row towards the shore. They had been pulling at the oars for about
two hours without any knowledge of the direction in which they were
going. Through a slight “lift” of the fog they caught sight of two
fishermen in a dory with sail set, and in the hope that they had a
compass on board, they inquired if they were on the right course. The
two fishermen informed the boys that they were on the wrong course, and
then gave them instructions in which direction they were to row. The
next six hours were devoted to strenuous pulling of the oars; but as
they could not hear the familiar sound of the surf driving on the land,
there was no alternative but to anchor for the night. Alas! when they
threw out the “killok” they found that the “rode” was too short for the
anchor to reach the bottom. So once more they were forced to take the
oars in hand and row forward.
[Illustration: SEALS ON “PACK-ICE”]
A breeze had suddenly sprung up from the north-east, accompanied by a
choppy sea, and the slender craft not only began to take in water, but
it started to drift. All night long the boys alternately bailed out the
water and endeavoured to keep the nose of the dory towards the sea.
When the first faint streaks of light appeared on the eastern horizon
the boat was still drifting, and they both became fatigued for want
of food and sleep. All day long she drifted on, and when darkness came
there was only the prospect of another night at sea, without sleep
and food. They had with them a small loaf of bread, which, although
saturated with water in the bottom of the craft, they decided to gather
up and lay aside for the time when the pangs of hunger were no longer
endurable.
The wind did not abate until the following night, and as they had some
vague idea that land was not very far off, they rowed all through the
night until daylight appeared once more. During the day they were
compelled to eat the saturated loaf; and as the third night drew near
their throats became parched with thirst, and their tongues had swollen
to such an extent that conversation between them was almost impossible.
In the dory were five frozen herrings and a codfish, which the boys
decided to eat while the boat drifted about until the morning. They
had no sooner swallowed their unpalatable meal, however, than they
were seized with vomiting and excruciating pains in their stomachs. In
spite of their sufferings, they took up the oars once more, and, though
extremely weak, did their best to row on they knew not whither.
Sixty hours without sleep or food, with their clothes frozen as stiff
as boards, was a great test of courage and physical endurance; but they
were determined not to abandon hope until their strength and senses
were completely overpowered.
The fourth day found them still rowing aimlessly through the fog.
Towards evening it seemed as though they were to lay down their oars
and abandon themselves to the mercy of the sea. But the sound of guns
in the distance inspired them with hope, for they instinctively knew
that someone was shooting birds on the land. They called into play
the remaining strength they had, and rowed in the direction whence
the reports of the gun had come. In a short time the little dory came
slowly into the harbour, and the men who had been shooting birds,
seeing their pitiable condition, ran down to their assistance. So
exhausted were these two little fisher-boys that they had to be lifted
out of the dory. The rescuers at once placed them upon their shoulders,
and hurried off with them to the nearest habitation, where every
kindness was extended to them by the fisher-folk of La Poile.
During this perilous adventure it is said that they must have rowed at
least 120 miles. But to-day the brave little fellows laugh over their
experiences, and tell you jokingly that they think they are now fully
qualified to take their position with the hardy members of the banking
crews.