Chain Locker (20 page)

“‘Hah!' Ches snarled. “‘Course I was scared. I coulda got me baccy wet.'”

Henry slapped his knee and waited for the laughter that came every time he told the story, but Jackie said nothing.

“You didn't like the story?”

“Sure. But I'd like it better if we lit a fire and warmed up?”

“Maybe we should wait a little while longer until we really need to, since we only got enough wood for one fire. How about if we wait until the rescue ship comes in sight?”

“Yeah, well, what about if…” Jackie felt his voice breaking and he stopped. He absolutely could not show fear; it was unthinkable. He had already let his guard down too much.

Henry quickly filled the void. “I figure you'll be all set with that big army coat on. You need to jump around a bit and get yourself warmed up. Start flappin' your arms like this.” Getting no response he cajoled, “Come on now, let's go drivin' works a bit; that'll get your blood movin'.” And bit by bit he got his companion to start dancing around and then teased him into a mock fight, dragging him down to the ice and wrestling him, where they enjoyed a brief respite from their despair, but they were soon standing in the semidarkness, silent and staring at the least dark part of the sky, waiting for the light. Eventually the sun sent out the first clues that it would be arriving.

The dawn began by splitting the horizon and unfolding its first orange brilliance from off to the right, and then extending back towards where the sun was about to show itself. It seemed backwards. Henry had watched many sunrises from the deck of a ship, and was often surprised by what he experienced; it must have had something to do with the earth's curvature, he assumed.

“Nice puffy clouds, eh? What do they remind you of?” he asked.

“I dunno. They just look like orange clouds to me,” Jackie replied in a sullen voice.

“Come on, now. Look closer. Don't you see a big fluffy animal, a bit like a…a pig, yeah, a pig all covered in soapsuds?”

“A pig covered in soapsuds? You're nuts.”

“No, no, look again. See, there's his ass on the right and his head on the left and it looks like he's sniffing where the sun is going to come up. Maybe he'll root up the sun for us with his snout.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess it is a bit like a pig. You got a good imagination.” “And if you watch carefully you'll see that he's moving from right to left like he's chasin' after the sun. See it?”

“Right. Ha!”

“See. He looks like he's in a big, flat field, slooooowly coaxin' the sun up.”

The pig soon started to disintegrate and progress all but halted. From the time the light made its debut until the sun finally came up seemed to take forever, but they had lots of time. Barring the arrival of a ship, it would be the biggest event of the day, and they watched with obsessive interest, as though its progress would stop if they looked away.

The pig became a blob of red cloud as the top of the life-giving ball finally pushed its way up from the obscurity, then came on with assurance, erasing the gloom with its presence. Jackie thought of the simple words of Genesis that he had learned in catechism: “Let there be light. And there was light.” As an involuntary shiver escaped, he wished he had a magic wand so he could declare: “Let there be heat.” But there was none. The light, at least, was welcome. In a few minutes the sun had escaped the horizon and was suspended above the earth, filtered through thin clouds and displaying its reds and oranges reflected off the ice with such intensity that they could no longer look at it. After a while they detected the slightest tinge of warmth.

Jackie's stomach reminded him that breakfast soon followed the dawn. Oh, how he longed for a bowl of his mother's porridge, with lots of brown sugar and Carnation milk, and feeling its warmth as it plunged into his empty belly. He felt a great pang of loneliness as he thought of home. Struggling to shake if off, he watched Henry climb to the top of the highest pinnacle he could find. “See anything?” he yelled.

“Yes,” Henry replied, as Jackie's heart sped up. “Ice and water. Every direction looks the same,” he said as he kept turning, “flat calm with loose ice everywhere. There's not much point in trying to walk anywhere; there's no land in sight in any direction. At least we're on a nice big piece of ice, a lot bigger than I thought, and about…I dunno, maybe a thousand feet to a side.”

But what happened to the land? Henry wondered; there's no sign of the disaster site and no evidence of the Horse Islands—no land anywhere. We were just a few miles off Cape John. Where in the world are we after driftin' to?

Jackie climbed up to look around, too. Their island of ice sure wasn't smooth like the ice he had skated on at Quidi Vidi Lake. When the ship was jammed he had watched it heave and crumple like a jigsaw puzzle, as huge slabs slid across one another, then broke and heaved up still more. What he was looking at could have passed for a batch of large flat stones piled in a haphazard fashion atop one another, with snow here and there in the crevices.

We must be moving east, away from the Horse Islands, thought Henry, because if we were moving westerly, then the two islands would be in sight; and if we were going south, then we would have run ashore by now, or at least we would be able to see Newfoundland. We could be moving northerly, I suppose, but I don't think so. We would have run into some heavy ice and there's not much sign of that; it looks the same in every direction. If I'm right and we're moving east, then that should take us right into the path of any rescue ship on her way up from St. John's.

He stared hopefully into the direction of the sun, straining to see if there might be something on the horizon. It was too bright. When he lowered his eyes, he thought he saw something. Squinting until his eyes were almost closed he realized what he was looking at. “Jack!”

“Yeah?”

“I just saw something over there and I don't think it's good. I think there might be somebody else on our ice floe.”

“No kiddin'? Did he wave? Is he coming this way?”

“Looks like he's lying down or unconscious. We better go and take a look.”

“What, is it one of the sealers?” Jackie asked, his enthusiasm dissipated. “I'll go see. You stay here.”

Jackie followed him anyway. “Is he dead?” he asked, as they looked down at a crumpled body that looked like it had been dumped into a depression between two pinnacles.

Henry hesitated to touch him, as though he might jump up and grab him. “Halloo!” he yelled down at him. Then, feeling foolish for being so timid, he leaned down and touched the man's face. It was cold. Feeling his neck for a pulse, he said, “Feels like he's still a little bit warm. I guess he hasn't been dead for very long, the poor bugger. Looks like he's after takin' quite a beating.”

Jackie gulped. “He's the guy who whistled from the ship when I gave the bow!”

“Yeah, I think you're right. I wonder how he got all the way out here,” said Henry.

“He flew over here. He got blasted right over my head last night. Aw, shit!”

“I'm surprised we didn't come across him when we were picking up the wood.”

“I'm just glad we stayed together. Jeez, I wouldn't want to come upon this guy in the dark by myself.”

“You know something?” said Henry. “I thought I heard somebody moaning when we were walking over here last night, but with all the goings on I thought I was imagining it. It must have been this guy, still alive, and I'll bet it's what you heard in the middle of the night, too!”

“We could've helped him.”

“I doubt it, Brud. I don't think there was anybody who could have helped him. It's too bad he had to die alone, though.”

“What will we do with him?”

“I don't think there's anything we can do. It's just as well to leave him here as anywhere. Later we'll check to see if he has any identification so we can report his death, but to tell you the truth, I don't feel like it right now.”

chapter twenty-three

Eight miles west of the
Viking
, the people in the tiny community of Horse Islands were getting ready for bed when a thunderous sound disturbed their tranquil Sunday evening. Excited children standing at the windows had never seen anything like it, especially when flares went shooting into the air like fireworks.

Soon the village was in an uproar. Men pulled on their coats and boots and ran to the headland for a better view.

“That can only be one thing—a sealing ship caught fire.”

“It must be. Unless it's an ore boat from Tilt Cove.”

“You ever see copper ore burn like that? She's too close, anyway. That's a sealing vessel as sure as God is in heaven. And the way she's goin' up I would hope and pray that she's into some ice so the fellers aboard can have some way to get off her.”

“What can we do?”

“Not very much right now. Well, there is one thing I suppose. Let's get some lanterns up high—upstairs in Frank's house—because if there's anybody survives they'll head in here. Bram, you and I'll stay up for the night to tend to the lights and keep a watch in case anybody comes in sight. I'll be surprised if that happens, though, with the condition of this ice.”

“Otis, are you goin' to send a message to St. John's?”

“I will when I know something. If they're goin' to send a rescue they need to know what to expect when they get here.”

“Alf, you fellers still back there?” Simeon yelled behind into the darkness while balancing on a sloshing ice pan.

“Yes,” the reply came faintly over the wind.

“Hard sloggin', ain't it Simeon?”

“That you, Lloyd?”

“Yeah.”

“Harder than I expected, and gettin' worse, I believe.” said Simeon.

“Reminds me of beatin' into Twillingate in a sou'west gale.”

“I suppose, except when you're sailin' you can at least hold the schooner against the headwind and not lose ground. This is more like canoein' up a river.”

“I wish we had bigger ice to walk on,” said Lloyd. “With all this splashing my boots are gettin' icy.”

“Can you see the light?” said Simeon.

“Haven't seen it for a while,” said Lloyd. “It must be out. I'm trusting to you; I don't know where I'm goin'.”

“I guess they put it as high as they could but it's still pretty low,” said Simeon. “It comes and goes. There it is!”

“So you think they know about the fire?”

“Positive. They would have to be blind to miss it. I'm sure that light we're seeing is meant for us. But I'm using the Gull Island light to keep us on course. As long as it's over my left shoulder I know we're okay. The Horse Islands' light is a good double-check.”

They walked for a while in silence, leaping from one pan to another and sometimes having to wait until the next one came near enough so they could jump to it.

“That reminds me: you never did get to finish the story about the
Queen of Swansea
.”

“I'm not sure I want to, after what happened to us.”

“What became of the people aboard her?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“Sure, I—”

“Watch out!” Simeon yelled as he grabbed his companion by the arm and pulled him back. “Don't let your feet get between them clumpers. The way they're grindin' together you'd be lucky not to break your leg. You okay?”

Recovering on all fours, Lloyd gasped, “Yeah, I'm all right. Thanks, Simeon. Just got a wet leg out of it.”

“We need that wind to die down a bit,” said Simeon. “A westerly wind is usually a sailor's friend, but it couldn't be a worse one for us right now.”

Simeon shouted encouragement to his men to keep them moving, hoping that the other watches were close behind. If he and his men could make it, then there was hope for everybody. He was feeling the strain of keeping their hopes alive.

As if reading his thoughts, Lloyd reassured him. “You're doin' a great job, Simeon. I know you'll get us there. So, back to the
Queen
of Swansea
. What happened next?”

Simeon yelled, “Where was we?”

“She had just struck Gull Island…you said they all perished but there was more.”

“That's right. Now I remember. It was pretty bad; they ended up eatin' one another.”

“No!”

“Not a word of a lie. The last note in one man's diary said that they had cast lots and his sister had been chosen to die next, but that he would be taking her place.”

“I got to tell you, Simeon, I got a hard time believin' anybody could do that.”

“Well, that's what their notes said. Anyway, a few years later, they built the lighthouse that we're seein' now.”

Simeon had known the details of the story since he was a boy, but the event was assuming a new poignancy. Looking back over his left shoulder he could see the cold ray cast by the Gull Island light making its circuits low on the horizon. Even if they made it to the Horse Islands, how could so many injured, exhausted, hungry men find succor in such a small village? The thin shaft of light went round and round, its impersonal, haunting beam reminding him that surviving a shipwreck, especially in winter, was just the beginning of the ordeal.

“Did you hear about Henry Horwood?” Lloyd yelled.

“Yes.”

“He drove away on the ice.”

“I know.”

“How in hell did he manage to do something that stupid? I gave him more credit than that.”

“One of those things, I guess. Bad luck,” said Simeon.

“Yeah, well, a couple of fellers told me he was pretty nervous climbing down the side of the vessel. They said he looked so scared they didn't think he was gonna go over at all. I don't know how he's gonna manage out there on his own if he got no more nerve that that. I don't s'pose it matters now because we've probably seen the last of 'im, anyway.”