A wreck on a rocky shore is at all times a dreary sight, but especially
so when the shore is that of an uninhabited land, and when the rocks as
well as the wreck are fringed with snow-wreaths and cumbered with ice.
Some such thoughts probably filled the mind of the trapper when, on the
afternoon of the day whose dawn we have mentioned, he stood beside the
wreck of what had once been a full-rigged ship and gazed intently on the
scene of desolation.
Life and death were powerfully suggested to him. Many a time had he
seen such a craft breasting the waves of the broad Saint Lawrence, when
every dip of the bow, every bend of the taper masts, every rattle of the
ropes, and every mellow shout of the seamen, told of vigorous life and
energy; and now, the broken masts and yards tipped and fringed with
snow-wreaths, the shattered stern, out of which the cargo had been
evidently washed long ago, the decks crushed down with snow, the bulged
sides, the bottom pierced by rocks, the bowsprit burst to shivers by the
opposing cliff, the pendant and motionless cordage, even the slight
ripple of the sleeping sea, which deepened rather than broke the
prevailing silence, all told eloquently of death,--death, perchance to
passengers and crew, at all events to sanguine hopes and prospects.
Nevertheless there was much life connected with that death-like scene,
as the sequel of our tale will show.
The trapper, although fond of moralising, was not prone to indulge in
sentiment when circumstances called him to action. He had come suddenly
in sight of the wreck on turning the point of the frowning cliff where
the gallant ship had met her doom, and stood only for a few seconds to
gaze sadly on the scene.
Hastening forward he proceeded at once to make a thorough survey of the
vessel.
First he went to the stern to ascertain, if possible, her name. The
greater part of the stern had, as we have said, been torn away; but,
after careful search, he discovered a piece of wood on which he could
plainly trace portions of the letters _B_ and _E_ and _T_. The
remainder of the word, whatever it was, had been completely erased.
Bellew did not at first climb on board the ship, because from her
general aspect he knew full well that there could be no survivor in her,
besides, through the yawning stern he could see nearly the whole of the
interior.
His next step was to search the neighbourhood for tracks, in order to
see whether or not the wreck had been lately visited by human beings.
This search resulted in discoveries which perplexed him greatly, for not
only did he find numerous footprints which crossed each other in various
directions, but he knew from their appearance that these had been
recently made, and that they were those of white men as well as red;
some of them showing the prints of shoes, while others displayed the
marks of moccasins.
Had Bellew discovered one or two tracks made by men of the forest like
himself, his knowledge of wood-craft would have enabled him at once to
decide which way they had come and whither they had gone; but, with at
least a dozen meandering tracks radiating from the ship in all
directions, as well towards the sea as the land, he felt himself
puzzled. He knew well enough that they were too fresh to be those of
the wrecked crew, unless indeed the crew had remained by the ship; but
in that case there would have been evidences of an encampment of some
sort, such as fittings-up on board, or huts on shore. He followed the
tracks that led to the sea and found that they terminated abruptly, as
if those who had made them had plunged into the water and drowned
themselves. Before following up those that went landward he returned to
the ship and clambered on board, but found nothing to reward him for his
pains. The sea had swept the hold fore and aft so completely that
nothing whatever was left.
These investigations did not take up much time. The trapper, after one
or two circuits, found the spot where the footsteps became disentangled
from the maze of individual tracks, and led, not along the shore as he
had supposed they would, but up into a narrow gorge; and now he learned
that the tracks of what appeared a multitude of people had been made by
the running to and fro of not more than a dozen men, six of whom were
natives. Thinking it probable that the party could not be far distant,
for the gorge up which they had proceeded seemed of very limited extent,
the trapper pushed forward with increasing expectation, not unmingled
with anxiety.
Turning the point of a projecting cliff he came suddenly on a sight that
filled him with sadness. It was the mouldering remains of a human
being--one who had been a seaman, to judge from the garments which
covered him. One glance sufficed to show the trapper that his services
there were not required. He also observed that the fresh tracks which
he had been following circled round the body of the seaman and then led
straight on.
Following these, Bellew soon came to an open circular space at the head
of the gorge, where the appearance of smoke, rising from among the
trees, arrested his attention. In a few minutes he had reached the spot
whence it issued, and there to his surprise found Mr Bob Smart with
five of his men and several Indians standing in solemn silence round
something on the ground that appeared to rivet their attention. Some of
the men looked up as Bellew approached and nodded to him, for the
trapper was well-known in the district; they also moved aside and let
him pass.
"What's wrong, Mr Smart?" he asked, on coming up.
The fur-trader pointed to the ground, on which lay a group of men, who,
at a first glance, appeared to be dying. One in particular, a youth,
seemed to be in the very last stage of exhaustion. Smart had just risen
from his side after administering a cup of hot tea, when the trapper
appeared.
"I fear he won't last long," said Smart, turning to Bellew, with a shake
of his head.
"What have you been givin' him?" asked Bellew, stooping and feeling his
pulse.
"Just a cup of tea," replied Smart; "I have unfortunately nothing
better. We only heard of the wreck yesterday, and came down in our boat
in such haste that we forgot spirits. Besides, I counted on bringing
whoever I should find up to the fort without delay, but although we may
move most of these poor fellows, I doubt much that we daren't move
_him_."
This was said in a whisper, for the poor fellows referred to, although
unable to rise, lay listening eagerly to every word that was spoken.
There were six of them--one a negro--all terribly emaciated, and more or
less badly frost-bitten. They formed the remnant of a crew of
twenty-five, many of whom, after suffering dreadfully from hunger and
frost-bites, had wandered away into the woods, and in a half delirious
state, had perished.
"You have hot water, I see," said the trapper, hastily unfastening his
pack, "fetch some."
Bob Smart promptly and gladly obeyed, for he saw that Bellew was a man
of action, and appeared to know what to do.
"You're right, Mr Smart," said Bellew, as he poured a little of the
contents of a bottle into the tin pannikin that had served him for a
tea-cup the night before, "this poor lad couldn't stand moving just now.
Fortunately I've brought some spirits with me. It will start fresh
life in him if he's not too far gone already. Here, sir," he continued,
in a louder tone, "let me put this to your lips."
The youth opened a pair of brilliant black eyes and gazed earnestly at
the speaker, then smiled faintly and sipped the offered beverage.
As might have been expected, he at once revived a little under its
influence.
"There, that's enough just now; it don't do to take much at a time.
I'll give 'ee somethin' else in a minute," said Bellew, as he went from
one to another and administered a teaspoonful or two to each.
They were very grateful, and said so in words more or less emphatic.
One of them, indeed, who appeared to have once been a jovial seaman,
intimated that he would be glad to take as many more teaspoonfuls of
"that same" as Bellew chose to administer! but the trapper, paying no
attention to the suggestion, proceeded to open his store of provisions
and to concoct, in his tin tea-kettle, a species of thin soup. While
this was simmering, he began to remove the blankets with which Bob Smart
had covered the unfortunate men.
"Don't you think," said Bob, "that it would be well to leave their wraps
alone till we get them up to the fort? They're badly bitten, and I know
little about dressing sores. By the time we get there Mr Redding will
probably have returned from Partridge Bay, and he's more than half a a
doctor, I believe."
"Nevertheless I'll have a look," said Bellew, with a smile, "for I'm a
bit of a doctor myself in such matters,--about a quarter of one, if I
may say so."
Without further parley the trapper laid bare their sores, and truly the
sad sight fully justified Smart's remark that the poor fellows were
badly bitten. One of them, the seaman above referred to, whom his
comrades styled Ned, had only lost the ends of one or two toes and the
forefinger of his left hand, but some of the others had been so severely
frost-bitten in their feet that all the toes were rotting off; the negro
in particular had lost his left foot, while the heel-bone of the other
was exposed to the extent of nearly an inch, and all the toes were gone.
(We describe here, from memory, what we have actually seen.)
In perfect silence, but with a despatch that would have done credit to
hospital training, the trapper removed the dead flesh, dressed the
sores, applied poultices of certain herbs gathered in the woods, and
bandaged them up. This done, he served out the thin soup, with another
small allowance of spirits and hot water, after which, with the able
assistance of Bob Smart and his men, he wrapped them up in their
blankets and made arrangements for having them conveyed to the boat,
which had been pulled into a convenient creek further down the shore
than the wreck.
Strange to say, the youth who appeared to be dying was the least injured
by frost-bites of the party, his fingers and face being untouched, and
only a portion of the skin of his feet damaged; but this was explained
by the seaman, Ned, who, on hearing Bellew's expression of surprise,
said, with a touch of feeling:--
"It's not the frost as damaged him, sir, it's the water an' the rocks.
W'en we was wrecked, sir,--now three weeks ago, or thereby,--we'd
ableeged to send a hawser ashore, an' not one of us could swim, from the
cap'n to the cabin-boy, so Mister McLeod he wolunteered to--"
"Mister who?" demanded Bellew hastily.
"Mister McLeod."
"What was your ship's name?"
"The _Betsy_, sir."
"From what port?"
"Plymouth."
"Ho ho! well, go on."
"Well, as I was a-sayin', sir, Mister McLeod, who's as bold as a lion,
he wolunteered to swim ashore wi' a line, an' swim he did, though the
sea was rollin' in on the cliffs like the Falls o' Niagery,--which I'm
told lie somewhere in these latitudes,--leastwise they're putt down in
all the charts so. We tried for to dissuade him at first, but when the
starn o' the ship was tore away, and the cargo began to wash out, we all
saw that it was neck or nothin', so we let him go. For a time he swam
like a good 'un, but when he'd bin dashed agin' the cliffs two or three
times an' washed back again among the wreck of spars, cargo, and
riggin', we thought it was all over with all of us. Hows'ever we wasn't
forsooken at the eleventh hour, for a wave all of a sudden washed him
high and dry on a ledge of rock, an' he stood up and waved his hand and
then fell down in a swound. Then we thought again it was all up with
us, for every wave went roarin' up to young Mister McLeod, as if it wor
mad to lose him, and one or two of 'em even sent the foam washin' in
about his legs. Well, sir, the last one that did that, seemed to bring
him to, for as it washed over his face he jumped up and held on to the
rocks like a limpet. Then he got a little higher on the cliff, and when
we saw he was looking out to us we made signs to him that a hawser was
made fast to the line, an' all ready. He understood us an' began to
haul away on the line, but we could see that he had bin badly hurt from
the way he stopped from time to time to git breath, and rested his head
on a big rock that rose at his side like a great capstan. Hows'ever, he
got the hawser ashore at last, an' made it fast round the big rock, an'
so by means of that, an' the blessin' o' Providence, we all got ashore.
P'r'aps," added Ned thoughtfully, "it might have bin as well if some of
us hadn't--hows'ever, we wasn't to know that at the time, you
understand, sir."
It must not be supposed that Ned said all this in the hearty tones that
were peculiar to his former self. The poor fellow could only utter it
sentence by sentence in a weak voice, which was strengthened
occasionally by a sip from "that same" beverage which had first awakened
his admiration. Meanwhile the object of his remarks had fallen asleep.
"Now, Mister Smart," said Bellew, taking the fur-trader aside, "from all
that I have heard and seen, it is clear to me that this wreck is the
vessel, in which the McLeods of Jenkins Creek had shipped their property
from England, and that this youth is Roderick, the youngest son of the
family. I've bin helping the McLeods of late with their noo saw-mill,
and I've heard the father talking sometimes with his sons about the
_Betsy_ of Plymouth and their brother Roderick."
At another time Bob Smart would not have been at all sorry to hear that
the interloping McLeods had lost all their property, but now he was
filled with pity, and asked Jonas Bellew with much anxiety what he
thought was best to be done.
"The best thing to do," said Bellew, "is to carry these men to the boat
and have them up to the Cliff Fort without delay."
"We'll set about it at once. You'll go with us, I suppose."
"No, I'll remain behind and take care of young McLeod. In his present
state it would likely cost him his life to move him."
"Then I'll leave some of my men with you."
"Not needful," replied the trapper, "you know I'm used to bein' alone
an' managin' things for myself. After you get them up you may send down
a couple of men with some provisions and their hatchets. For to-night I
can make the poor fellow all snug with the tarpaulin of your boat."
In accordance with these plans the shipwrecked men were sent up to the
Cliff Fort. Roderick McLeod was sheltered under a tarpaulin tent and
carefully tended by Bellew, and one of Smart's most active Indians was
despatched with a pencil-note to Jenkins Creek.
It was this note which interrupted the conversation between Reginald
Redding and the elder McLeod at a somewhat critical moment, and this
note, as the reader may easily believe, threw the whole establishment
into sudden consternation.