_In Which the Komatik is Foundered, the Dogs Draw Their Own
Conclusions from the Misfortune and Prepare to Take Advantage,
Cracker Attempts a Theft and Gets a Clip on the Snout, and Billy
Topsail and Teddy Brisk Confront a Situation of Peril with
Composure, Not Knowing the Ultimate Disaster that Impends_
Billy Topsail was now sixteen years old--near seventeen, to be exact;
and he was a lusty, well-grown lad, who might easily have been mistaken
for a man, not only because of his inches, but because of an assured,
competent glance of the eye. Born at Ruddy Cove of Newfoundland, and the
son of a fisherman, he was a capable chap in his native environment. And
what natural aptitude he possessed for looking after himself in
emergencies had been developed and made more courageous and acute by the
adventurous life he had lived--as anybody may know, indeed, who cares to
peruse the records of those incidents as elsewhere set down. As
assistant to the clerk of the trader _Black Bat_, he had served well;
and it is probable that he would some day have been a clerk himself, and
eventually a trader, had not the adventure upon which he was embarking
with Teddy Brisk interrupted his career by opening a new vista for his
ambition.
* * * * *
Billy Topsail and Teddy Brisk set out in blithe spirits for Doctor
Luke's hospital at Our Harbour. A dawn of obscure and disquieting
significance; a hint of milder weather in the growing day; a drear, gray
sky thickening to drab and black, past noon; a puff of southerly wind
and a slosh of rain; a brisk gale, lightly touched with frost, running
westerly, with snow, in a close, encompassing cloud of great wet flakes;
lost landmarks; dusk falling, and a black night imminent, with high
wind--and Billy Topsail's team of ten went scrambling over an unexpected
ridge and foundered the komatik.
It was a halt--no grave damage done; it was nothing to worry a man--not
then.
Young Billy Topsail laughed; and little Teddy Brisk chuckled from the
tumbled depths of his dogskin robes; and the dogs, on their haunches
now, a panting, restless half-circle--the Labrador dogs run in
individual traces--viewed the spill with shamefaced amusement. Yet Billy
Topsail was confused and lost. Snow and dusk were impenetrable; the
barricades and cliffs of Ginger Head, to which he was bound, lay
somewhere in the snow beyond--a mere general direction. It is nothing,
however, to be lost. Daylight and clearing weather infallibly disclose
the lay of the land.
A general direction is good enough; a man proceeds confidently on the
meager advantage.
It was interesting for the dogs--this rowdy pack from Tight Cove. They
were presently curious. It was a break in the routine of the road. The
thing concerned them nearly. What the mischief was the matter? Something
was up! Here was no mere pause for rest. The man was making no
arrangements to move along. And what now? Amusement gave place to an
alert observation of the course of the unusual incident.
The dogs came a little closer. It was not an attitude of menace. They
followed Billy Topsail's least movement with jerks of concern and starts
of surprise; and they reflected--inquiring amazed. Day's work done?
Camp for the night? Food? What next, anyhow? It was snowing. Thick
weather, this! Thick's bags--this palpable dusk! No man could see his
way in a gale like this. A man had his limitations and customs. This man
would camp. There would be food in reward of the day's work. Was there
never to be any food? There must be food! Now--at last! Oh, sure--why,
sure--sure--sure there'd be something to eat when the man went into
camp!
Mm-m? No? Was the new man going to starve 'em all to death!
Big Cracker, of this profane, rowdy crew, sidled to the sled. This was
in small advances--a sly encroachment at a time. His object was plain to
the pack. It was theft. They watched him in a trance of expectant
interest. What would happen to Cracker? Wait and see! Follow Cracker?
Oh, wait and see, first, what happened to Cracker. And Cracker sniffed
at the tumbled robes. The pack lifted its noses and sniffed, too, and
opened its eyes wide, and exchanged opinions, and kept watch, in swift,
scared glances, on Billy Topsail; and came squirming nearer, as though
with some intention altogether remote from the one precisely in mind.
From this intrusion--appearing to be merely an impudent
investigation--Cracker was driven off with a quick, light clip of the
butt of the walrus whip on the snout. "Keep the brutes down! Keep un
down--ecod!--an' no trouble would come of it." And down went Cracker. He
leaped away and bristled, and snarled, and crawled, whimpering then, to
his distance; whereupon the pack took warning. Confound the man!--he was
too quick with the whip. Cracker had intended no mischief, had he?
After that the big Cracker curled up and sulked himself to sleep.
"I 'low we're close t' Ginger Head," said Billy Topsail.
"Ah, no, b'y."
"I seed the nose o' the Scotchman's Breakfast a while back."
"We're t' the south o' that by three mile."
"We isn't."
"We is."
"Ah, well, anyhow we'll stop the night where we is. The snow blinds a
man."
"That's grievous," Teddy Brisk complained. "I wisht we was over the
barricades an' safe ashore. The bay's all rotten. My mother says----"
"You isn't timid, is you?"
"Me? No. My mother says----"
"Ah, you is a bit timid, Teddy."
"Who? Me? I is not. But my mother says the wind would just----"
"Just a wee bit timid!"
"Ah, well, Billy, I isn't never been out overnight afore. An' my mother
says if the wind blows a gale from the west, south or sou'west----"
"Never you mind about that, Skipper Teddy. We've something better t'
think about than the way the wind blows. The wind's full o' notions.
I've no patience t' keep my humour waitin' on what she does. Now you
listen t' me: I got bread, an' I got 'lasses, an' I got tea, an' I got a
kettle. I got birch all split t' hand, t' save the weight of an axe on
the komatik; an' I got birch rind, an' I got matches. 'Twill be a
scoff"--feast--"Skipper Teddy. Mm-m! Ecod! My belly's in a clamour o'
greed. The only thing I isn't got is dog meat. Save for that, Skipper
Teddy, we're complete."
Teddy Brisk renewed his complaint.
"I wisht," said he, "the wind would switch t' sea. Once on a time my
grand----"
"Never you mind about that."
"Once on a time my grandfather was cotched by the snow in a gale o' wind
off----"
"Ah, you watch how clever I is at makin' a fire on the ice! Never you
mind about the will o' the wind. 'Tis a foolish habit t' fall into."
Billy Topsail made the fire. The dogs squatted in the offing. Every eye
was on the operation. It was interesting, of course. Nothing escaped
notice. Attention was keen and inclusive. It would flare high--a thrill
ran through the wide-mouthed, staring circle--and expire in
disappointment. Interesting, to be sure: yet going into camp on the ice
was nothing out of the way. The man would spend the night where he
was--that was all. It portended no extraordinary departure from the
customs--no opportunity. And the man was alert and capable. No; nothing
stimulating in the situation--nothing to be taken advantage of.
Billy Topsail was laughing. Teddy Brisk chattered all the while. Neither
was in difficulty. Nor was either afraid of anything. It was not an
emergency. There was no release of authority. And when the circumstances
of the affair, at last, had turned out to be usual in every respect,
interest lapsed, as a matter of course; and the pack, having presently
exhausted the distraction of backbiting, turned in to sleep, helped to
this good conduct by a crack of the whip.
"Not another word out o' you!" Billy Topsail scolded. "You'll be fed
full the morrow."
Almost at once it fell very dark. The frost increased; the snow turned
to dry powder and the wind jumped to half a gale, veering to the
sou'west. Teddy Brisk, with the bread and tea and molasses stowed away
where bread and tea and molasses best serve such little lads as he, was
propped against the komatik, wrapped up in his dogskin robes as snug as
you like. The fire was roaring, and the circle of the night was safe and
light and all revealed, in its flickering blaze and radiant, warm red
glow.
Billy Topsail fed the fire hot; and Billy Topsail gave Teddy Brisk
riddles to rede; and Billy Topsail piped Teddy Brisk a song or two--such
a familiar song of the coast as this:
'Way down on Pigeon Pond Island,
When daddy comes home from swilein'
Maggoty fish hung up in the air,
Fried in maggoty butter;
Cakes an' tea for breakfast,
Pork an' duff for dinner,
Cakes an' tea for supper--
'Way down on Pigeon Pond Island,
When daddy comes home from swilein'.[1]
Whatever was bitter and inimical in the wind and dark and driving mist
of snow was chased out of mind by the warm fire and companionable
behaviour.
It was comfortable on the ice: it was a picnic--a bright adventure; and
Teddy Brisk was as cozy and dry and content as----
"I likes it, Billy," said he. "I jus' fair loves it here!"
"You does, b'y? I'm proud o' you!"
"'Way out here on the ice. Mm-m! Yes, sirree! I'm havin' a wonderful
happy time, Billy."
"I'm glad o' that now!"
"An' I feels safe----"
"Aye, b'y!"
"An' I'm's warm----"
"Sure, you is!"
"An' I'm's sleepy----"
"You go t' sleep, lad."
"My mother says, if the wind----"
"Never you mind about that. I'll take care o' you--never fear!"
"You would, in a tight place, wouldn't you, Billy, b'y?"
"Well, I 'low I would!"
"Yes, sirree! You'd take care o' me!"
"You go t' sleep, lad, an' show yourself an old hand at stoppin' out
overnight."
"Aye, Billy; but my mother says----"
"Never you mind about that."
"Ah, well, my mother----"
And Teddy Brisk fell asleep.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] Sealing.