_In Which Sir Archibald Armstrong's Son and Heir is Presented for
the Reader's Inspection, Highly Complimented and Recommended by the
Author, and the Thrilling Adventure, Which Archie and Billy are
Presently to Begin, Has its Inception on the Departure of Archie
From St. John's Aboard the "Rough and Tumble"_
As everybody in St. John's knew very well (and a good many folk of the
outports, to say nothing of a large proportion of the sealing fleet),
Archie Armstrong was the son of Sir Archibald Armstrong, who was used to
calling himself a fish-dealer, but was, in fact, a deal more than that.
Directly or indirectly, Sir Archibald's business interests touched every
port in Newfoundland, every cove of the Labrador, the markets of Spain
and Portugal, of the West Indies and the South American Republics.
His fishing schooners went south to the Banks and north to the gray,
cold seas off Cape Chidley; his whalers gave chase in the waters of the
Gulf and the Straits; his trading schooners ran from port to port of all
that rugged coast; his barques carried cod and salmon and oil to all
the markets of the world. And when the ice came down from the north in
the spring of the year, his sealing vessels sailed from St. John's on
the great adventure.
Archie was Sir Archibald's son. There was no doubt about that. He was a
fine, hearty lad--robust, as every young Newfoundlander should be;
straight, agile, alert, with head carried high; merry, quick-minded,
ready-tongued, fearless in wind and high sea, as a good many adventures
with Billy Topsail had proved. His hair was tawny, his eyes as blue as
Billy Topsail's, and as wide and as clear; and his face was broad and
good-humoured.
And (every lad has his amiable weakness) Archie was something of a dandy
in his dress--a tailored, speckless, polished, fashionable person, to
whom the set of his trousers and the knot in his cravat were matters of
concern. All in all, from his soles to his crown, and from his rosy skin
to the innermost recesses of his good red heart, he was very much of a
brave, kindly, self-respecting man.
Billy Topsail liked him. That is putting it mildly. And Archie Armstrong
liked Billy Topsail. That, too, is putting it mildly. The boys had been
through some hard places together, as I have elsewhere recorded; and
they had come through the good and the bad of their undertakings with
mutual respect and liking. Nobody could help liking Billy Topsail--he
was a courageous, decent, jolly, friendly soul; and for the same reasons
nobody could help liking Archie Armstrong. It was a good
partnership--this friendship between the Colonial knight's son and heir
and the outport fisherman's lad. And both had profited.
Billy had gained in manners and knowledge of the world, to describe the
least gain that he won; and Archie had gained in health and courage and
the wisdom of the coast. But that was all. Rich as Archie's prospects
were, and as great the wealth and generosity of his father, Billy
Topsail had never anticipated a material advantage; and had one been
offered him, it would not have been accepted except on terms of a
description not to wound Billy Topsail's self-respect.
Well, what sort of an education had Archie Armstrong had? It is best
described in the incident that sent him off on his first sealing
voyage, as elsewhere set down. It was twilight of a blustering February
day. Sir Archibald Armstrong sat alone in his office, with his chair
drawn close to the low, broad window, which overlooked the wharves and
ice-strewn harbour beyond; and while the fire roared and the wind drove
the snow against the panes, he lost himself in profound meditation.
He stared absently at the swarm of busy men--now almost hidden in the
dusk and storm--and at the lights of the sealing fleet, which lay there
fitting out for the voyage to the drift-ice of the north; but no sound
of the activity on dock or deck could disturb the quiet of the little
office where the fire blazed and crackled and the snow fell softly
against the window panes.
By and by Archie came in.
"Come, son," said Sir Archibald, presently, "let us watch them fitting
out the fleet."
They walked to the window, Sir Archibald with his arm over Archie's
shoulder; and in the dusk outside, the wharves and warehouses and ships
told the story of the wealth of Sir Archibald's firm.
"It will all be yours some day," said Sir Archibald, gravely. After a
pause, he continued: "The firm has had an honourable career through
three generations of our family. My father gave it to me with a spotless
reputation. More than that, with the business he gave me the faith of
every man, woman and child of the outports. The firm has dealt with its
fishermen and sealers as man with man, not as the exploiter with the
exploited. It has never wronged, or oppressed, or despised them.
"In September you are going to an English public school, and thence to
an English University, when the time comes. You will meet with new
ideals. The warehouses and ships, the fish and fat, will not mean so
much to you. You will forget. It may be even--for you are something of a
dandy, you know--that you will be ashamed to acknowledge that your
father is a dealer in fish and seal-oil; and that----"
Archie drew breath to protest.
"But I want you to remember," Sir Archibald went on, lifting his hand.
"I want you to know a man when you meet one, whatever the clothes he
wears. The men upon whom the fortunes of this firm are founded are true
men. They are strong, brave and true. Their work is toilsome and
perilous, and their lives are not unused to deprivation; but they are
cheerful, and independent, and fearless, through it all--stout hearts,
every one of them.
"They deserve respectful and generous treatment at the hands of their
employers. For that reason I want you to know them more intimately--to
know them as shipmates know one another--that you may be in sympathy
with them. I am confident that you will respect them, because I know
that you love all manly qualities. And so for your good, and the good of
the men, and the good of the firm, I have decided that----"
"That I may go sealing?" cried Archie.
"That you may go sealing."
Archie had gone sealing. And the adventure had made of him the man that
he was.
* * * * *
Archie Armstrong had gone then to an English public school, having made
the acquaintance of Billy Topsail on that first voyage, where the
friendship had been founded in peril and a narrow escape. And he had
come back unspoiled; and he had adventured with Billy Topsail again, and
he had gone to England and returned to Newfoundland once more. In St.
John's, with an English tutor, because of the illness of his mother,
who had by that time recovered, he pleaded with Sir Archibald to be
permitted once more to sail with the fleet.
There was objection. Archie was importunate. Sir Archibald relented and
gave a reluctant consent. And it was determined that Archie should be
shipped with Cap'n Saul Galt, commanding the _Rough and Tumble_, a stout
ship, well manned, and, in the hands of Cap'n Saul, as safe a berth for
a lad as any ship of the fleet could provide. That Archie was delighted
goes without saying; and that he was all aflame with interest in the
movements of the ice--inquisitive and talkative--goes without saying
too.
As a matter of fact, a man might hear what he liked on the water-front
about the movements of the ice. In the gathering places it was just the
same. There were rumours of the ice all the way from the Straits of
Belle Isle and the Labrador coast to the Funks and Cape Bonavist'. It
was even held by some old sealing dogs that the floes had gone to the
east in a spurt of westerly weather and would be found far to sea in the
southerly drift.
All this while old Cap'n Saul, of the _Rough and Tumble_, with Archie
usually at his elbow, cocked an ear and kept his counsel, putting two
and two together, and arriving at the correct result of four, according
to the old cock's habit.
"The ice is inside the Funks, Archie," said he. "I'll twist the _Rough
and Tumble_ t' the west an' shake off the fleet in the night. Havin'
clung with profit t' my sealin' wisdom these ten sealin' seasons," he
went on, "they'll follow me an they're able, an' pester my fellows an'
steal my panned fat. They're all bit mad by the notion that the ice
drove t' the east with the nor'west puff an' whisper o' wind we had.
I'll fiddle their wits this year--mark me!"
"_Whisper_ of wind?" Archie exclaimed. "'Twas a whole _gale_ of wind!"
"Pt!"
"And the ice _did_ drive to the east."
"Pt!" says Cap'n Saul. "You'll never make a sealin' skipper, Archie. I
smells the ice off the Horse Islands."
It was foul weather all the way from St. John's to the floes. The fleet
sailed into a saucy head-wind and a great slosh of easterly sea. It was
a fair start and no favour, all managed by the law; the fat on the floes
was for the first crews of the fleet to find and slaughter it. And there
was a mighty crowd on the water-front to wish the fleet well; and there
was a vast commotion, too--cheering and waving and the popping of guns.
At sea it was a helter-skelter race for the ice. Cap'n Saul touched up
the _Rough and Tumble_ beyond St. John's Narrows; and the ship settled
to her work, in that rough and tumble of black water, with a big white
bone in her teeth--shook her head and slapped her tail and snouted her
way along to the northeast. A whisp of fog came with the night. It was
thick weather. But Cap'n Saul drove northeast, as before--slap into a
smothering sea; and by this the fleet, tagging behind, was befooled and
misled.
After dark, Cap'n Saul doused the lights and switched full steam to the
west; and when day broke the _Rough and Tumble_ was alone, come what
might of her isolation--and come it did, in due course, being all a-brew
for Cap'n Saul and crew, even then, in the northwest.
As for the fleet, it was off on fools' business in the bare seas to the
east.