Chain Locker (2 page)

“I guess your guts'd be all over the deck if you fell outa there,” said Hubert.

“Eh? What?”

“Where are ya gone to?”

“I'm here, b'y,” said Jackie. “Just thinkin', that's all.”

“How are we ever gonna get on board one of those vessels without getting caught?” Hubert groaned. “There's guys everywhere, sure.”

“We'll figure it out. This is it, Hube. When them ships cast off we're gonna be aboard one of them. I'm not sayin' it'll be easy, but however hard it is, it'll still be worth it. No more luggin' water after school, no more gettin' yelled at to go fill the coal bucket every time you get sat down. I mean, I'd walk to the Front just to get away from those friggin' nuns, naggin' the arse offa ya.”

“Yeah, but we'll have the Brothers next year,” said Hubert. “We'll be all set.”

“All set to get the snot beat out of us, you mean. School is still school and it's not where I want to be. I wanna be free of all that and have a good time.”

“Where do you think you're going? On an ocean cruise aboard one of the Furness Withy boats? Sitting around on a soft chair while they serve you Gaden's Lime? You're talking about the seal hunt, my son.”

“Oh, I know, but you and me can take it, Hube. Just you wait and see. You're not losin' your nerve and backin' out are you?”

“Me? Never!”

“Are you keeping your mouth shut, especially around Barb? You can't tell a soul, now. Did you tell anybody?”

Hubert cleared his throat. “Ooh, no, cross my heart.”

“All right then.” Jackie stared at him for a moment and then grinned. “We're gonna be sealers, Hube, ice hunters, with sealskin boots to our knees, out on the whelping ice.”

“Right.”

“Watch it, there!”

A snort in his ear startled Hubert and he skedaddled out of the way.

“He looked like he was gonna nibble the cap off your head,” Jackie mocked. “What did his breath smell like?”

“Oats and hay, I guess,” said Hubert, trying to look nonchalant. “I dunno. What's their breath supposed to smell like?”

The singsong voice of the teamster guided the two horses as they backed a load of coal up to the
Eagle
. “Eeeeasy there, Belle; back, Molly, baaaack; that's the girl; whoo, Molly, whoa, Belle.” Two yapping dogs pestered the horses and the frustrated driver snapped the reins at them, providing a brief moment of entertainment before Jackie and Hubert shuffled off in the direction of the other boys.

chapter two

Ada Osmond walked slowly to her kitchen window, folding her arms under her bosom and peering out as the last stars faded from the morning sky over Twillingate. Her only daughter Emily waved half-heartedly as she walked past the window, her sealskin boots swishing through the two inches of feathery snow that had settled overnight. Her long, heavy dress was covered by a stylish overcoat that she had bought from the Eaton's catalogue with her first pay-cheque. She reminded Ada of her own grandmother, except she thought Emily was prettier than her grandmother had been—although it was getting more difficult to picture her grandmother's face. She could certainly do with a little more fat on her frame, Ada reflected, but Emily liked to watch her figure, exactly as Ada's grandmother had, which was odd for a woman whose pantry was rarely full enough to pose a threat. Her normally cheery daughter seemed heavy-hearted today and Ada's own protective heart ached for her.

Fifteen minutes later, Emily arrived at the two-room schoolhouse on the edge of town. It was not much to look at, but she had an immense feeling of pride in the place where she had recently started her teaching career. Every morning of her first week, she had gazed with satisfaction at her new workplace, but this morning, as the late winter sun gave notice that it would soon appear, she looked morosely at the heavy ice grinding against the shoreline fifty feet away. Not today, she sighed inwardly. She laid her heavy leather briefcase on top of the bank of dry snow that Susie Potter's father had shovelled from the steps late last evening, rummaged for the key in her pocket and unlocked the door. Instead of the stifling heat that usually came out of the place at this time of year, it was so cold inside that her breath formed a cloud before her face. Warm from the walk, she removed her coat, carefully folded it twice, and laid it on the highest shelf near her desk, away from the little hands that liked to rub the soft fur around the collar and cuffs. She lit a lamp, placed her briefcase on the desk, and started emptying it in preparation for the arrival of her thirty-nine pupils, the delight of her life. She was grateful to every one of them for making her teaching career as rewarding as she had hoped it would be, and she did not mind being in the oldest and smallest school in town, the proving ground for new teachers. She stood with a sheaf of papers in her hand, her mind drifting back through the weeks and months to the day she had come back home from college in St. John's. She had been so nervous in the beginning.

Suddenly the door flew open. Emily jumped, as Genevieve Day stamped half a dozen times to beat the snow off her boots. “Jumpin', dyin', 'twould freeze the balls off a brass monkey out there. You talk about cold!”

Emily looked up at her friend and colleague, whose pale face had about as much colour as the snow that followed her in. “Good morning to you, too, Gennie. Honestly, I don't know where you come up with some of those sayings of yours. Do brass monkeys have particularly durable private parts? Then again, being brass I suppose they would.”

“No idea. I heard Grandfather say that so many times it just rubbed off, I guess. He used to say it to get Nan goin' and then he would look over at us and wink. It has nothing to do with monkeys' privates, but to tell you the truth I can't remember what it means. Something to do with cannonballs, I think. He told me once. Speaking of cold, what are you burning in that stove? Rocks?”

“Oh, my goodness, I forgot to light the stove!” Emily ran over and stuffed in some kindling. “My mind was completely taken up with something else.”

“Thinking about Lover Boy?”

“Oh, Gennie, don't even joke about it. If those two don't leave soon, I think I'll lose my mind. I can't stay in the house over the weekend with him there.”

“How long has it been now—two weeks?”

“Not that I'm counting,” she replied, as she struck a match and reached inside the stove. “But it has been eleven long and trying days.”

“I wouldn't mind having a tall, strappin' twenty-five-year-old male about the house for eleven days.”

“Well,” said Emily as she knitted her brow and concentrated on adjusting the damper. “You're welcome to Randy.”

“I don't want Randy. I want a tall, strappin' male,” Gennie guffawed, delighted at her own wit, which was followed by a fit of coughing.

Gently patting her on the back, Emily said, “Gennie, there's no need for you to be in here this early. I can see that the stoves get lit.”

“I noticed,” Gennie said. “Why don't you let the youngsters' fathers take care of it like they're supposed to? Then we could come in to a nice warm school like we been doing all winter.”

“I can tell that you haven't been around here when there are seals on the go. That's all they think about this time of the year: ‘Did youse see ar swile?'” she mimicked, screwing her pretty face into its most intense expression of anticipation. “And now that there were a few off Long Point earlier in the week, you can be sure there will soon be men scrambling all over the ice, with no interest whatever in lighting the stove in the school. I swear Daddy has sharpened his sculping knife every day this week and he has yet to step out onto a clumper. His gaff and tow-rope are sitting by the door all set to go. You'd think it was emergency life-saving equipment and lives depended on him.”

“They take their sealing seriously, don't they?” said Gennie, half listening. “I've been meaning to ask you, what's the story with George Tizzard? Did his mother make up her mind yet?”

“Oh, my. Poor little Georgie,” Emily said, frowning. “I honestly don't know what Agnes is going to do; nothing would surprise me. She dislikes me so much I swear she'll probably pull him out of school just to spite me. It breaks my heart to see them being taken out when they're so young, but not many around here see any value in an education. I suppose you can't blame them: the teenage boys especially are a huge help to their fathers out on the water.”

“Or in the vegetable garden or cutting wood or hunting birds or picking berries or tending the sheep or building boats…” Gennie mused. “It's hard to keep food on the table without them.”

“I know. But it's a crime the number of men around here who can barely read their own names.”

“Not one of my brothers finished school. All five of them were in the lumber woods before their fourteenth birthday.”

“Agnes had my blood boiling yesterday,” Emily continued. “It was all I could do to keep from giving her a good smack.”

“Oh, that would have been a nice thing to see now: the teacher giving a parent one across the lip.”

“There was Agnes, with babe in arms and another peeping out from behind her skirts, sticking out her chin and declaring, ‘I only went to Number Five and it never done me no 'arm. I got a 'usband and youngsters and a 'ouse over me 'ead.' She may as well have added, ‘And what 'ave you got? Sure, you're nothing but the schoolteacher—an old maid still livin' at 'ome with your parents!'”

“Of course you're living with your parents. What would she expect you to do—saw your own logs and build a house?”

“You know what I mean. Find a husband to build one for me.”

“I have no doubt that will happen…and soon,” she grinned. “But not everybody is lucky enough to get a man…”

“Gennie, don't be silly. You have a lot to offer a man.”

“Like what? TB?”

“Stop talking like that! You haven't got TB.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. “And even if you do have it—which you don't—what better place to be than in Twillingate, with a brand new hospital?”

“Never mind that. What's she got against you anyway?” Gennie asked. “Did you steal her boyfriend or something?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, you're not far off. She used to be interested in my older brother, Bill, and was always dropping by the house on the feeblest of pretenses, hoping he might be around. Many's the day when I was in high school that I would come home to find Agnes in the kitchen, chatting with Mama and maneuvering her way to the supper table.

“If you ever met Bill you would know how polite he is—he's like Daddy. I guess she mistook his pleasantness for something more serious, but he had no interest whatsoever in Agnes; all he needed was eyes to see what a nincompoop she is. She must have thought that Bill consulted his little sister on matters of the heart. Anyway, ever since then she would probably choke if she had to say a good word about me.

“After Bill went away to college she ended up with Uriah Tizzard; they were both eighteen when they got married, and then along came Georgie seven months later. I don't know how a decent person like Ri Tizzard ended up with Agnes. He probably didn't know where babies come from and found out too late. I think Agnes is using her son's future to settle an old score with me. She was so smug yesterday! Poor Georgie.”

Emily fell silent, her large brown eyes downcast. Gennie had often joked that Emily should never play poker because her face betrayed practically every thought in her head. “Go easy there, Missie. Don't forget what they taught us in college. You can only do so much and after that it's out of your hands.”

“I know. I suppose with all that's been going on—this business with Georgie, and those two being underfoot for nearly two weeks—and now I.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Now you what?”

“I have to give Henry an answer. There's no more time left.”

“Then give him an answer. Say yes.”

“It's not that simple, Gennie…”

“Only because you're making it complicated. A fabulous-looking, smart, witty, charming man wants to marry you. That's pretty complicated, all right. Any girl in town would be delighted to have Henry Horwood for a husband, and if they knew you needed to think it over they would tell you you're nuts.”

“I didn't leave home for college only to end up a fisherman's wife with a houseful of youngsters.”

“Oh, I see. You're too good for that, are you? You're gettin' a bit gatchy, you know.”

“No I'm not! You may think I'm stuck up, Gennie, but there's more to it than that.”

“Well, I certainly can't figure out what it is.”

“I'm afraid.”

“Of what? Henry?”

“Of course not. I'm afraid of what might happen. When I marry I want some assurance of a long life together. The sea has a habit of taking husbands and fathers away. I mean, your own father is one of them. I just don't want that to happen to me, plain and simple…Oh, I'm sorry, Gennie; I didn't say that very well.”

“That's okay. You're right. My mother did end up a widow with a houseful of youngsters. But, it looks to me like your family has been spared all of that. Both of your grandfathers are old after being on the water all their lives, your father is still living—”

“That makes me even more fearful; my turn is sure to come. And I can't ask him to stay home from the sea. Why, that would be like expecting Aunt Beulah Twine not to tap her feet while the accordion is playing.”

“He's probably like most men around here: the sea is all he knows. Get him away from the water and I bet he'd be content doing something else.”

“Well, he plans to write an exam for some marine officer rating this summer. He's been getting ready all winter.”