_In Which, Much to the Delight of Jimmie Grimm and Billy
Topsail, Donald North, Having Perilous Business On a Pan
of Ice After Night, is Cured of Fear, and Once More Puffs
Out His Chest and Struts Like a Rooster_
Like many another snug little harbour on the northeast coast of
Newfoundland, Ruddy Cove is confronted by the sea and flanked by a
vast wilderness; so all the folk take their living from the sea, as
their forebears have done for generations. In the gales and high seas
of the summer following, and in the blinding snow-storms and bitter
cold of the winter, Donald North grew in fine readiness to face peril
at the call of duty. All that he had gained was put to the test in the
next spring, when the floating ice, which drifts out of the north in
the spring break-up, was driven by the wind against the coast.
After that adventure, Jimmie Grimm said:
"You're all right, Don!"
And Billy Topsail said:
"You're all right, Don!"
Donald North, himself, stuck his hands in his pockets, threw out his
chest, spat like a skipper and strutted like a rooster.
"I 'low I _is_!" said he.
And he was. And nobody decried his little way of boasting, which
lasted only for a day; and everybody was glad that at last he was like
other boys.
* * * * *
Job North, with Alexander Bludd and Bill Stevens, went out on the ice
to hunt seal. The hunt led them ten miles offshore. In the afternoon
of that day the wind gave some sign of changing to the west, and at
dusk it was blowing half a gale offshore. When the wind blows offshore
it sweeps all this wandering ice out to sea, and disperses the whole
pack.
"Go see if your father's comin', b'y," said Donald's mother. "I'm
gettin' terrible nervous about the ice."
Donald took his gaff--a long pole of the light, tough dogwood, two
inches thick and shod with iron--and set out. It was growing dark. The
wind, rising still, was blowing in strong, cold gusts. It began to
snow while he was yet on the ice of the harbour, half a mile away
from the pans and dumpers which the wind of the day before had crowded
against the coast.
When he came to the "standing edge"--the stationary rim of ice which
is frozen to the coast--the wind was thickly charged with snow. What
with dusk and snow, he found it hard to keep to the right way. But he
was not afraid for himself; his only fear was that the wind would
sweep the ice-pack out to sea before his father reached the standing
edge. In that event, as he knew, Job North would be doomed.
Donald went out on the standing edge. Beyond lay a widening gap of
water. The pack had already begun to move out.
There was no sign of Job North's party. The lad ran up and down,
hallooing as he ran; but for a time there was no answer to his call.
Then it seemed to him that he heard a despairing hail, sounding far to
the right, whence he had come. Night had almost fallen, and the snow
added to its depth; but as he ran back Donald could still see across
the gap of water to the great pan of ice, which, of all the pack, was
nearest to the standing edge. He perceived that the gap had
considerably widened since he had first observed it.
"Is that you, father?" he called.
"Ay, Donald," came an answering hail from directly opposite. "Is there
a small pan of ice on your side?"
Donald searched up and down the standing edge for a detached cake
large enough for his purpose. Near at hand he came upon a small, thin
pan, not more than six feet square.
"Haste, b'y!" cried his father.
"They's one here," he called back, "but 'tis too small. Is there none
there?"
"No, b'y. Fetch that over."
Here was desperate need. If the lad were to meet it, he must act
instantly and fearlessly. He stepped out on the pan and pushed off
with his gaff. Using his gaff as a paddle--as these gaffs are
constantly used in ferrying by the Newfoundland fishermen--and helped
by the wind, he soon ferried himself to where Job North stood waiting
with his companions.
"'Tis too small," said Stevens. "'Twill not hold two."
North looked dubiously at the pan. Alexander Bludd shook his head in
despair.
"Get back while you can, b'y," said North. "Quick! We're driftin'
fast! The pan's too small."
"I thinks 'tis big enough for one man an' me," said Donald.
"Get aboard an' try it, Alexander," said Job. "Quick, man!"
Alexander Bludd stepped on. The pan tipped fearfully, and the water
ran over it; but when the weight of the man and the boy was properly
adjusted, it seemed capable of bearing them both across. They pushed
off, and seemed to go well enough; but when Alexander moved to put his
gaff in the water the pan tipped again. Donald came near losing his
footing. He moved nearer the edge and the pan came to a level. They
paddled with all their strength, for the wind was blowing against
them, and there was need of haste if three passages were to be made.
Meantime the gap had grown so wide that the wind had turned the
ripples into waves, which washed over the pan as high as Donald's
ankles.
But they came safely across. Bludd stepped swiftly ashore, and Donald
pushed off. With the wind in his favour he was soon once more at the
other side.
"Now, Bill," said North; "your turn next."
"I can't do it, Job," said Stevens. "Get aboard yourself. The lad
can't come back again.
"We're driftin' out too fast. He's your lad, an' you've the right
to----"
"Ay, I can come back," said Donald. "Come on, Bill! Be quick!"
Stevens was a lighter man than Alexander Bludd; but the passage was
wider, and still widening, for the pack had gathered speed. When
Stevens was safely landed he looked back. A vast white shadow was all
that he could see. Job North's figure had been merged with the night.
"Donald, b'y," he said, "you got t' go back for your father, but I'm
fair feared you'll never----"
"Give me a push, Bill," said Donald.
Stevens caught the end of the gaff and pushed the lad out.
"Good-bye, Donald," he called.
When the pan touched the other side Job North stepped aboard without a
word. He was a heavy man. With his great body on the ice-cake, the
difficulty of return was enormously increased, as Donald had foreseen.
The pan was overweighted. Time and again it nearly shook itself free
of its load and rose to the surface. North was near the centre, plying
his gaff with difficulty, but Donald was on the extreme edge.
Moreover, the distance was twice as great as it had been at first, and
the waves were running high, and it was dark.
They made way slowly. The pan often wavered beneath them; but Donald
was intent upon the thing he was doing, and he was not afraid. Then
came the time--they were but ten yards off the standing edge--when
North struck his gaff too deep into the water. He lost his balance,
struggled to regain it, failed--and fell off. Before Donald was awake
to the danger, the edge of the pan sank under him, and he, too,
toppled off.
Donald had learned to swim now. When he came to the surface, his
father was breast-high in the water, looking for him.
"Are you all right, Donald?" said his father.
"Yes, sir."
"Can you reach the ice alone?"
"Yes, sir," said Donald, quietly.
Alexander Bludd and Bill Stevens helped them up on the standing edge,
and they were home by the kitchen fire in half an hour.
"'Twas bravely done, b'y," said Job.
So Donald North learned that perils feared are much more terrible
than perils faced. He had a courage of the finest kind, in the
following days of adventure, now close upon him, had young Donald.