Under the Great Bear
- -
- 100%
- +
On one of the mildest of these October days, when the sunshine still held a trace of its summer warmth, a solitary figure stood on the crest of a bald headland, some hundreds of miles to the north of Battle Harbour, gazing wistfully out over the lead-coloured waters that came leaping and snarling towards the red rocks far beneath him. He had on great sea boots that stood sadly in need of mending, and was clad in heavy woollens, faded and worn, that showed many a rent and patch. As he leaned on the stout staff that had assisted him in climbing, his figure seemed bent as though by age, but when he lifted his, face, tanned brown by long exposure, the downy moustache on his upper lip proclaimed his youth. Altogether the change in his appearance was so great that his most intimate friend would hardly have recognised in him the youth who had been called the best dressed man in the T. I. class of '99 a few months earlier. But the voice with which he finally broke the silence of his long reverie was unmistakably that of Cabot Grant.
"Heigh ho!" he sighed, as he cast a sweeping glance over the widespread waste of waters on which nothing floated save a few belated icebergs, and then inland over weary miles of desolate upland barrens, treeless, moss-covered, and painfully rugged. "It is tough luck to be shut up here like birds in a cage, with no chance of the door being opened before next summer. It is tougher on Baldwin, though, than on me, and if he can stand it I guess I can. But I suppose I might as well be getting back or he will be worrying about me."
Thus saying, Cabot picked up a canvas bag that lay at his feet and moved slowly away.
A very serious misfortune had befallen our lads, and for more than a month the "Sea Bee," though still afloat and as sound as ever, had been unable to move from the position she now occupied. After leaving Battle Harbour her voyage to the northward had not been more than ordinarily eventful, though subject to many and irritating delays. Not only had there been adverse winds, but she had twice been stormbound for days in harbours to which she had run for shelter. Then, too, White had insisted on stopping at every settlement that promised a chance for trading, and had even run fifty miles up Hamilton Inlet with the hope of finding customers for his goods at the half-breed village of Rigoulette. But he had always been disappointed. Either his goods were not in demand, or those who desired them had nothing to offer in exchange but fish, which he did not care to take. And always he was told of a scarcity of food still farther north. So the voyage had been continued in that direction along a coast that ever grew wilder, grander, and more inhospitable.
In the meantime Cabot was delighted at the opportunities thus given him for getting acquainted with the country, and made short exploring trips from every port at which they touched. From some of these he came back sadly bitten by the insect pests of the interior, and from others he brought quantities of blueberries, pigeon berries that looked and tasted like wild cranberries, or yellow, raspberry-like "bake apples," resembling the salmon berries of Alaska. Also he picked up numerous rock and mineral specimens that he afterwards carefully labelled.
Finally, when they had passed the last fishing station of which they had any knowledge, and had only the missions to look forward to, they were overtaken, while far out at sea, by a furious gale that sorely buffeted them for twenty-four hours, and, in spite of their strenuous efforts, drove them towards the coast. The gale was accompanied by stinging sleet and blinding snow squalls, and at length blew with such violence that they could no longer show the smallest patch of canvas.
In this emergency White constructed a sea anchor, by means of which he hoped to prolong their struggle for at least a few hours. It was hardly got overboard, however, before a giant surge snapped its cable and hurled the little craft helplessly towards the crash and smother with which the furious seas warred against an iron coast.
In addition to the other perils surrounding our lads, the gloom of impending night was upon them, and they could only dimly distinguish the towering cliffs against which they expected shortly to be dashed. Both of them stood by the tiller, grimly silent, and using the last of their strength to keep their craft head on, for in the trough of that awful sea she would have rolled over like a log. Neither of them flinched nor showed a sign of fear, though both fully realised the fate awaiting them.
At last, with the send of a giant billow, the little schooner was flung bodily into the roaring whiteness, and, with hearts that seemed already to have ceased their beating, the poor lads braced themselves for the final shock. To their unbounded amazement the "Sea Bee," instead of dashing against the cliffs, appeared to pass directly into them as though they were but shadows of a solid substance, and in another minute had shot, like an arrow from a bow, through a rift barely wide enough to afford her passage.
As her stupefied crew slowly realised that a reprieve from death had been granted at the last moment, they also became aware that they were in a place of absolute darkness, and, save for the muffled outside roar of furious seas, of absolute quiet. At the same time they were so exhausted after their recent prolonged struggle that they found barely strength to get overboard an anchor. Then, careless of everything else, they tumbled into their bunks for the rest and sleep they so sadly needed.
When they next awoke it was broad daylight, and their first move was to hasten on deck for a view of their surroundings. Their craft lay as motionless as a painted ship, in the middle of a placid pool black as a highland tarn. In no place was it more than a pistol shot in width, and it was enclosed by precipitous cliffs that towered hundreds of feet above her. The schooner could not have been more happily located by one possessed of an absolute knowledge of the coast under the most favourable conditions, and that she should have come there as she had was nothing short of a miracle.
Filled with thankfulness for their marvellous escape the lads gazed about them curious to discover by what means they had gained this haven of refuge. On three sides they could see only the grim fronts of inaccessible cliffs. On the fourth was a strip of beach and a cleft through which poured a plume-like waterfall white as a wreath of driven snow.
"Did we come in that way?" asked Cabot, pointing to this torrent of silver spray.
"I suppose we must have," rejoined White soberly; "for I can't see any other opening, and it certainly felt last night as though we were sailing over the brink of a dozen waterfalls. But let's get breakfast, for I'm as hungry as a wolf. Then there'll be time enough to find out how we got in here, as well as how we are to get out again."
After a hearty meal they got the dinghy overboard and started on a tour of exploration. First they visited the beach and found a rude pathway leading up beside the waterfall that promised exit from the basin to an active climber.
"In spite of all the wonderful happenings of last night I don't believe we came in that way," said Cabot.
"No," laughed White, "the old 'Bee's' wings aren't quite strong enough for that yet, though there's no saying what she may do with practice."
Satisfied that there was no outlet for a sailing craft in this direction, they pulled towards the opposite side of the basin, but not until they were within a few rods of its cliffs did they discover an opening which was so black with shadow that it had heretofore escaped their notice.
"Here it is," cried Cabot, "though–"
His speech was cut suddenly short, and for a moment he stared in silent amazement. The farther end of the passage was completely filled by what appeared a gigantic mass of white rock.
"An iceberg!" exclaimed the young skipper, who was the first to recognise the true nature of the obstacle. "An iceberg driven in by the gale and jammed. Now we are in a fix."
"I should say as much," responded Cabot, "for there isn't space enough to let a rowboat out, much less a schooner. No wonder this water is as still as that in a corked bottle. What shall we do now?"
"Wait until it melts, I suppose," replied White gloomily, "or until the outside seas batter it away."
So our lads had waited unhappily and impatiently for more than a month, and still the ice barrier was as immovable as ever. Also, as the weather was growing steadily cooler, its melting became less and less with each succeeding day.
During this period of enforced imprisonment they had made several exploring trips into the interior, but had failed to find trace of human life; nor were they able to go far either north or south on account of impassable waterways. Neither could they discover any timber from which to obtain firewood, and as the supply on the schooner was nearly exhausted their outlook for the future grew daily more and more gloomy.
For a while they had hoped to signal some passing vessel, and one or the other of them made daily trips to the most prominent headland of the vicinity, where he kept a lookout for hours. But this also proved fruitless, for but two vessels had been sighted, and neither of these paid any attention to their signals.
Thus the open season passed, and with the near approach of an Arctic winter the situation of our imprisoned lads grew so desperate that they were filled with the gloomiest forebodings.
CHAPTER XVIII.
FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH THE NATIVES
Only once during their tedious imprisonment had our lads received evidence that human beings existed in that desolate country, and after they gained this information they hardly knew whether to rejoice or to regret that it had come to them. One morning, some weeks after their arrival in the basin, to which they had given the name of "Locked Harbour," Cabot, going on deck for a breath of air, made a discovery so startling that, for a moment, he could hardly credit the evidence of his eyes. Then he shouted to White:
"Come up here quick, old man, and take in the sight."
As the latter, who had been lighting a fire in the galley stove, obeyed this call, Cabot pointed to the beach, on which stood a row of human figures, gazing at the schooner as stolidly as so many graven images.
"Indians!" cried White, "and perhaps we can get them to show us the way to the nearest mission."
"Good enough!" rejoined Cabot in high excitement. "Let's go ashore and interview them before they have a chance to disappear as mysteriously as they have appeared. Where do you suppose they came from?"
"Can't imagine, and doubt if they'll ever tell. Probably they are wondering the same thing about us. I suppose, though, they are on their way towards the interior for the winter. But hold on a minute. We must take them some sort of a present. Grub is what they'll be most likely to appreciate, for the natives of this country are always hungry."
Acting upon his own suggestion, White dived below, to reappear a minute later with a bag of biscuit and a generous piece of salt pork, which he tossed into the dinghy. Then the excited lads pulled for the beach on which the strangers still waited in motionless expectation.
"Only a woman, a baby, and three children," remarked White, in a tone of disappointment, as they approached near enough to scrutinise the group. "Still, I suppose they can guide us out of here as well as any one else if they only will."
The strangers were as White had discovered—a woman and children, but one of these latter was a half-grown boy of such villainous appearance that Cabot promptly named him "Arsenic," because his looks were enough to poison anything. They were clad in rags, and were so miserably thin that they had evidently been on short rations for a long time. White's belief that they were hungry was borne out by the ravenous manner with which they fell upon the provisions he presented to them.
Arsenic seized the piece of pork and whipping out a knife cut it into strips, which he, his mother, and his sisters devoured raw, as though it were a delicacy to which they had long been strangers. The hard biscuit also made a magical disappearance, and when all were gone, Arsenic, looking up with a hideous grin, uttered the single word: "More."
"Good!" cried Cabot, "he can talk English. Now look here, young man, if we give you more—all you can carry, in fact, of pork, bread, flour, tea, and sugar, will you show us the road to the nearest mission—Ramah, Nain, or Hopedale?"
"Tea, shug," replied the boy, with an expectant grin.
"Yes, tea, sugar, and a lot of other things if you'll show us the way to Nain. You understand?"
"Tea, shug," repeated the young Indian, again grinning.
"We wantee git topside Nain. You sabe, Nain?" asked Cabot, pointing to his companion and himself, and then waving his hand comprehensively at the inland landscape.
"Tea, shug, more," answered the young savage, promptly, while his relatives regarded him admiringly as one who had mastered the art of conversing with foreigners.
"Perhaps he understands English better, or rather more, than he speaks it," suggested White.
"It is to be hoped that he does," replied Cabot. "Even then he might not comprehend more than one word in a thousand. But I tell you what. Let's go and get our own breakfast, pack up what stuff we intend to carry, make the schooner as snug as possible, and come back to the beach. Here we'll show these beggars what stuff we've brought, and give them to understand that it shall all be theirs when they get us to Nain. Then we'll start them up the trail, and follow wherever they lead. They are bound to fetch up somewhere. Even if they don't take us where we want to go, we will have provisions enough to last us a week or more, and can surely find our way back."
"I hate to leave them, for they might skip out while we were gone," objected White.
"That's so. Well then, why not invite them on board? They'll be safe there until we are ready to go. Say, Arsenic, you all come with we all to shipee, sabe? Get tea, sugar, plenty, eat heap, you understand?"
As Cabot said this he made motions for all the natives to enter the dinghy, and then pointed to the schooner.
It was evident that he was understood, and equally so that the woman declined his proposition, for she sat motionless, holding her baby, and with the younger children close by her side. The boy, however, expressed his willingness to visit the schooner by entering the dinghy and seating himself in its stern.
"That will do," said White. "The others won't run away without him, and he is the only one we want anyhow."
So the boat was rowed out to the anchored schooner, while those left on the beach watched the departure of their son and brother with the same apathy that they had shown towards all the other happenings of that eventful morning.
"Look at the young scarecrow, taking things as coolly as though he had always been used to having white men row him about a harbour," laughed Cabot, "and yet I don't suppose he was ever in a regular boat before."
"No," agreed White, "I don't suppose he ever was."
They did not allow Arsenic to enter the "Sea Bee's" cabin, but made him stay on deck, where, however, he appeared perfectly contented and at his ease. Here Cabot brought the various supplies for their proposed journey and put them up in neat packages while White prepared breakfast. The former had supposed that their guest would be greatly interested in what he was doing, but the young savage manifested the utmost indifference to all that took place. In fact he seemed to pay no attention to Cabot's movements, but squatted on the deck, and gazed in silent meditation at the beach, where his mother and sisters could be seen also seated in motionless expectation.
"I believe he is a perfect idiot," muttered Cabot, "and wonder that he knows enough to eat when he's hungry."
Then White called him, and he went below to breakfast.
"Do you think it is safe to leave that chap alone on deck with all those things?" asked the former.
"Take a look at him and see for yourself," replied Cabot.
So White crept noiselessly up the companion ladder and peeped cautiously out. Arsenic still squatted where Cabot had left him, gazing idiotically off into space. At the same time a close observer might have imagined that his beady eyes twinkled with a gleam of interest as White's head appeared above the companion coaming.
"I guess it is all right," said White, rejoining his friend.
"Of course it is. He couldn't swim ashore with the things, and there isn't any other way he could make off with them, except by taking them in the dinghy, and that chump couldn't any more manage a boat than a cow."
In spite of this assertion Cabot finished his meal with all speed, and then hurried on deck, where he uttered a cry of dismay. A single glance showed him that their guest, together with all the supplies prepared for their journey, was no longer where he had left him. A second glance disclosed the dinghy half way to the beach, while in her stern, sculling her swiftly along with practised hand, stood the wooden-headed young savage who didn't know how to manage a boat.
"Come back here, you sneak thief, or I'll fill you full of lead," yelled Cabot, and as the Indian paid not the slightest attention he drew his revolver and fired. He never knew where the bullet struck, but it certainly did not reach the mark he intended, for Arsenic merely increased the speed of his boat without even looking back.
So angry that he hardly realised what he was doing, Cabot cocked his pistol and attempted to fire again, but the lock only snapped harmlessly, and there was no report. Then he remembered that he had expended several shots the day before in a fruitless effort to attract attention on board a distant vessel seen from the lookout, and had neglected to reload.
As he started for the cabin in quest of more cartridges he came into collision with White hurrying on deck.
"What is the matter?" inquired the latter, as soon as he regained the breath thus knocked out of him.
"Oh, nothing at sill," replied Cabot, with ironical calmness, "only we've been played for a couple of hayseeds by a wooden-faced young heathen who don't know enough to go in when it rains. In his childish folly he has gone off with the dinghy, taking our provisions along as a souvenir of his visit, and he didn't even have the politeness to look round when I spoke to him. Oh! but it will be a chilly day for little Willy if I catch him again."
"I am glad you only spoke," remarked White. "When I heard you shoot I didn't know but what you had murdered him."
"Wish I had," growled Cabot, savagely. "Look at him now, and consider the cheek of the plain, every-day North American savage."
It was aggravating to see the young thief gain the beach and lift from the boat the provisions he had so deftly acquired. It was even more annoying to see the embryo warrior's grateful family pounce upon the prizes of his bow and spear, and to be forced to listen to the joyous cries with which they greeted their returned hero. Filled now with a bustling activity, the Indians quickly divided the spoil according to their strength; and then, without one backward glance, or a single look towards the schooner, they started up the narrow trail by the waterfall, with the triumphant Arsenic heading the procession, and in another minute had disappeared.
As the last fluttering rag vanished from sight, our lads, who had watched the latter part of this performance in silent wrath, turned to each other and burst out laughing.
"It was a dirty, mean, low-down trick!" cried Cabot. "At the same time he played it with a dexterity that compels my admiration. Now, what shall we do?"
"I suppose one of us will have to swim ashore and get that boat."
"What, through ice water? You are right, though, and as I am the biggest chump, I'll go."
Cabot was as good as his word, and did swim to the beach, though, as he afterwards said, he did not know whether his first plunge was made into ice water or molten lead. Then he and White followed the trail of their recent guests to the crest of the bluffs, but could not discover what direction they had taken from that point. So they returned to the schooner sadder but wiser than before, and wondered whether they were better or worse off on account of the recent visitation.
"If they carry news of us to one of the missions we will be better off," argued Cabot.
"But, if they don't, we are worse off, by at least the value of our stolen provisions," replied White.
CHAPTER XIX.
A MELANCHOLY SITUATION
In Labrador, under ordinary circumstances, the loss of such a quantity of provisions as Arsenic had carried away would have been a very serious misfortune. But food was the one thing our lads had in abundance, and they were more unhappy at having lost a guide, who might have shown them a way out of their prison, than over the theft he had so successfully accomplished.
"The next time we catch an Indian we'll tie a string to him," said Cabot.
"Yes," agreed White, "and it will be a stout one, too; but I am afraid there won't be any more Indians on the coast this season."
"How about Eskimo?"
"Some of them may come along later, when the snowshoeing and sledging get good enough, for they are apt to travel pretty far south during the winter. Still, there's no knowing how far back from the coast their line of travel may lie at this point, and dozens of them might pass without our knowledge."
"Couldn't we go up or down the coast as well as an Eskimo, whenever these miserable waterways freeze over?" asked Cabot.
"Of course, if we had sledges, dogs, snowshoes, and fur clothing," replied White; "but without all these things we might just as well commit suicide before starting."
"Well, I'll tell you what we can do right off, and the sooner we set about it the better. We can go inland as far as possible, and leave a line of flags or some sort of signals that will attract attention to this place."
"I don't know but what that is a good idea," remarked White, thoughtfully. "At any rate, it would be better than doing nothing, and if we don't get help in some way we shall certainly freeze to death in this place long before the winter is over."
So Cabot's suggestion was adopted, and the remainder of that day was spent in preparing little flags of red and white cloth, attaching them to slender sticks, and in making a number of wooden arrows. On a smooth side of these they wrote:
"Help! We are stranded on the coast."
"I wish we could write it in Eskimo and Indian," said Cabot, "for English doesn't seem to be the popular language of this country."
"The flags and arrows will be a plain enough language for any natives who may run across them," responded White, "and I only hope they'll see them; but it is a slim chance, and we'll probably be frozen stiff long before any one finds us."
"Oh, I don't know," said Cabot, cheerfully. "There's firewood enough in the schooner itself to last quite a while."
"Burn the 'Sea Bee'!" cried White, aghast at the suggestion. "I couldn't do it."
"Neither could I at present; but I expect both of us could and would, long before our blood reached the freezing point."
"But if we destroyed the schooner, how would we get out of here next summer?"
"I'm sure I don't know, and don't care to try and think yet a while. Just now I am much more interested in the nearby winter than in a very distant summer."
The next day, and for a number of days thereafter, our lads worked at the establishment of their signal line. They erected stone cairns at such distances apart that every one was visible from those on either side, and on the summit of each they planted a flag with its accompanying pointer. In this way they ran an unbroken range of signals for ten miles, and would have carried it further had they dared expend any more of their precious firewood.
While they were engaged upon this task the weather became noticeably colder, the mercury falling below the freezing point each night, and the whole country was wrapped in the first folds of the snow blanket under which it would sleep for months. About the time their signal line was completed, however, there came a milder day, so suggestive of the vanished summer that Cabot declared his intention of spending an hour or so at the lookout. "There might be such a thing as a belated vessel," he argued, "and I might have the luck to signal it. Anyhow, I am going to make one more try before agreeing to settle down here for the winter."