Simeon stopped and turned around. “I'll thank you not to talk like that anymore,” he said. “Henry's my nephew and he's a good hand on the ice. He'll manage.”
“Oh, I'm sorry, Simeon. I didn't realizeâ”
“I believe it's startin' to get daylight,” said Simeon, not wishing to continue the conversation. Looking past Lloyd to observe the brightening in the east, he saw a man waving and yelling from behind.
“Simeon, Lorne fell between the balleycatters and got his leg hurt. He says he can't go on.”
“Is he all right otherwise? He got anything broken?”
“No, but he's soppin' wet. George is goin' to stay with him.”
“Okay. We better keep movin', Lloyd.”
“Sure, Simeon.”
A half hour later they could see the sun pouring onto the Horse Islands. “Good navigating, Simeon. I knew you'd get us there.”
“We're not there, yet,” said Simeon.
“The worst is over, though,” said Lloyd. “There's the islands, b'ys. Let's keep movin' now. Not too much farther,” he yelled back to the other men. “And look, Simeon, I can see some men comin' our way. I wonder if they got a bit of dry clothes for poor Lorne.”
They only had what they were wearing, but among the four, they managed to share enough to keep Lorne from freezing to death.
At 9 a.m. Otis Bartlett cranked up his wireless set and sent off a message containing everything he knew to St. John's.
To Minister Marine and Fisheries
Horse Islands, March 16âat 9 o'clock last night heard terrible explosion. Early this morning wreckage of burning steamer sighted about eight miles east of here. Also men travelling on ice towards island. No particulars at hand yet. Ice in bad condition. Heavy sea. Wind blowing off shore. First crowd men may reach Island; others have little chance. Making very slow progress. People only have sufficient supplies for selves. Also no medical assistance here; no chance getting to mainland.
(
Sgd.
) OTIS BARTLETT
Opr. Horse Island.
The minister started a rescue effort, which included a message to Twillingate:
to
A. G. Ashbourne
Twillingate.
Do best possible get your auxiliary schooner off immediately to Horse Islands as steamer supposed to be
Viking
had explosion last night eight miles east of there. Many men injured on ice. We are sending steamer
Foundation Franklin
and
Sagona
from here this afternoon. H. B. C. Lake.
Lloyd was wrong. The last mile took all morning. Copying the sparse pans was like jumping from horse to horse on a merry-go-round. Lloyd was the first one ashore, with a sturdy islander bearing him up on each side. All day long they straggled in, and by dark the group was too large to be afforded shelter; only the worst cases could be brought indoors and not all of them. As for food, there was hardly any. It was the long and hungry month of March, and the worried Horse Islanders' supplies that had been put away in the fall were close to depleted. They were counting the days to spring and watching daily for a few seals to come their way.
Looking out over the ice, Simeon could see groups of men strewn across the eight miles that had to be crossed from the wreck site, and he cursed the westerly wind that was bound to be their undoing. Far beyond them Henry was probably blessing the same wind and wishing that it would continue, as he and Jackie drifted on their protracted journey towards what they hoped would be an oncoming rescue ship.
All everybody could hope for was the quick arrival of a ship or two from St. John's.
The normal Monday morning tranquility was broken when Cyril Keough came into Tom Gould's store to buy some potatoes and salt pork. News was going around about a sealing ship being lost somewhere at the Front. He said that was all anybody seemed to know so far.
They were speculating about the details when Art Cahill came in. “Well, as I live and breathe, if it ain't Surl Keough. Still survivin' with that houseful of women? Found any husbands for them daughters o' yours yet?”
“The load is getting' lighter, Art. Julia got married last Christmas, and Babs is engaged.”
“That's good news. What does that leave you with? Two to go?”
“Two more, but I won't be too pleased to see them all gone, I'm telling ya that; although it will mean fewer mouths to feed during these lean times. Just put this on my account, will you, Tom.”
Tom nodded, making a mental note that he would soon have to tell Cyril that he was unable to extend him any more credit.
“Is there any news about the sealing ship that blew up?” asked Art.
“Blew up!” said Cyril, “I never heard that part. All I heard is that there was a ship lost.”
“Apparently the boiler on one of the old wooden walls blew up last night, with the loss of all hands.”
A half-hour later, as he unpacked onions in the back, Tom heard somebody talking to his clerk. “That's not the way I heard it!” Tom strolled to the door. “No sir, it wasn't the boiler. They were blasting the ship out of the ice and the damn fools sunk her.”
“Do you know what vessel it was?” the gangly clerk asked as Tom perked his ears.
“There's lots of guesses but nobody seems to know for sure.”
It was on the tongue of almost everybody that came into the store. A later version was that the galley stove had turned over in rough weather, catching the ship afire, and she had blown up when the fire reached the magazine. Tom was getting concerned that the rumours might find their way to his house. His wife would be in a fine state if she heard about it. He wondered if he should go home, or wait for more solid information.
In the early afternoon more details began to emerge. Mike Murphy and his wife came in with the facts, which the radio had just reported. “She blew up last night up by the Horse Islandsâ”
“Where's the Horse Islands to?” somebody asked.
“I believe they're up off Conche, just about up to Saint Anthony.”
“No they're not!” his wife, a native of Hooping Harbour, corrected him as she picked over the potatoes. “You're talkin' about the Grey Islands, you foolish mortal. The Horse Islands is south, this side of White Bay, closer to Baie Verte.”
“That's right,” said Mike. “That's what I meant to say. They said there was a lot of men hurt and a lot of men missing, and some of them probably even killed. They're goin' to send a schooner from Twillingate to pick up the survivors. She's supposed to be on her way today.”
Tom screwed up his courage and asked, “Did they say what ship it was?”
“They says 'twas the
Viking
.”
Oh, no! She knows for sure, he thought, because she got that radio blaring all day long. I should never have bought the bloomin' thing.
Without delay, Tom removed his apron and put on his boots and coat and headed home, leaving the clerk in charge. As he went out the door he could hear Mike say, “Sure, they shouldn't be shaggin' around up there this time of the year in them old ships. It's bad enough in the summer⦔
All of Doris Gould's anger had melted, to be replaced by a mother's grieving for her lost son, for she was convinced she would not see him again this side of heaven. She shed tears of sadness for her loss and tears of guilt for having been so angry with him. Tom stayed with her the rest of the afternoon and held her while she sobbed, trying his best to comfort and encourage her while holding on to his hope. When the girls arrived home after school, they broke the news to them. Alice became uncharacteristically quiet, while her younger sister, Margie, bawled her eyes out. “Now we don't know nothing for sure yet,” said Doris. “Let's just hope and pray that the good Lord has preserved him.” It was a relief to get down to the routine of preparing for supper and helping the girls with their homework.
Within a half-hour of Ashbourne's replying to the Minister of Marine and Fisheries that they could not get the
Bessie Marie
out of the icebound harbour, Agnes Tizzard was rushing into her sister-in-law, Lucy's, kitchen.
“Luce, Luce, you 'aven't heard the latest!” she yelled. “There's after being a sealing ship blowed up out to the ice.”
“Oh, my blessed Saviour!”
“It's the
Viking
. The same one that Simeon and Alf and Bert is onto.”
Lucy slowly sat down. “What's they all perished to death, I suppose?” “There's no word, girl, but I heard there was some survived.”
“Where did you hear this to, now?”
“Janie Potter told me. Her husband, Calv Potter, works down to Ashbournes. The government is after them to send the
Bessie Marie
to the rescue, but there's no getting her out of the harbour with all the ice hove in.”
“There's lots of ice around; that's for sure. What about if the wind shifts? Won't it all blow back out again?”
“They thought it might, but Calv says even if it do, she's still froze solid way up in the harbour. They could try to saw her out of the ice but it will still take at least a couple of days and the wind would have to blow out all the ice that's after pilin' up outside the harbor, too.”
“Sounds like she won't be goin' nowhere soon. Who else do we know on the ship that blowed up besides Simeon and his b'ys?”
“That young Henry Horwood from up to Cottle's Island; he's gone to the ice and I believe he went in the
Viking
with Simeon,” Agnes replied.
“Oh yes, Henry Horwood, the one was seein' the teacher. I heard they was gettin' married.”
“Well I heard she's after gettin' tangled up with the minister,” said Agnes.
“That English one? He don't strike me as bein' interested in women,” said Lucy. “Did you see the physogue on him? He looks like he was baptized in vinegar, goin' around with that white collar on and that black shirt with no buttons. It looks like he got it on with the hinder parts before.”
“The way I heard it, she's chasin' after him,” Agnes replied, with arms folded and lips pursed in sound disapproval. It was certainly not the kind of thing she herself would ever do.
“Henry: now is he related to Edgar Horwood from over Exploits?” Lucy asked.
“He's some relation; brother, I think.”
“Now, there's a man, that Edgar Horwood. I wouldn't mind takin' up with him.”
“Hark o' you now, takin' up with Edgar Horwood! No mistake, I know! If Clar heard you talkin' like that you'd be in some state o' trouble.”
“Hah! Sure Clar don't pay no more heed to me than he do to that cat there,” Lucy said, pointing to the tabby sprawled behind the stove.
“Unless he wants something,” Agnes ventured with a smirk.
“Yes. And you just knows what he wants.”
“Oh yes, I knows,” she replied with a knowing nod. “Anyway, I heard Edgar Horwood's wife keeps him on a pretty short leash.”
“How's the teacher goin' to feel about this now, I wonder?” Lucy pondered.
“Never mind her. 'Tis Henry's poor mother Darcas I thinks about, with her boy on the vessel, and not knowin' if he's alive nor dead. And Sade with her husband and two b'ys. Shockin', shockin.”
“Yes, girl 'tis.” Then she added, “'Tis scandalous is what it is.”
Lucy told Ivy Stuckless and Ivy told Emily's mother, who was in the middle of making bread, with a cloth wrapped around her hair and flour up to her elbows. She sat down at the kitchen table with a look of great distress. “Dear Lord above, not more men dying out on the water. Sometimes life is too hard, Ivy. I long for the day when the Lord will come back and take us all outa this.”
“Yis, maid,” said Ivy.
“Henry's aboard of that vessel, and Simeon and Alf and Bert, too, and God only knows who else. Then there's them men from Exploits. I wonder what's become of them.”
“There's no word yet about if anybody was lost. I suppose we'll hear some more soon,” said Ivy. “Let's pray that there'll be some good news.”
“Yes. Emily will be home from school in a few minutes. I don't suppose she knows. I don't expect she'll take the news well.”
“Are you ready to take a shift?” said Henry, squinting as he scanned the southern horizon for the elusive rescue ship.
“My eyes are prickly,” Jackie replied. “Feels like I got sand in 'em.”
“Well, you'll have to take your turn. Mine are ready to give out.”
Jackie muttered something.
“Not feelin' too workish, eh? C'mon. Shake a leg,” Henry ordered.
Jackie slowly got to his feet and Henry sat down, with his back to the sun. He scraped up some snow and held it to his burning eyes. “No sign of the sun for three bloody weeks and now it beats down on us for the whole day, with not a cloud in sight. That ice is like a mirror. I always keep my sun goggles right next to my knife, but I grabbed the knife when I left the ship and managed to leave them behind.”
“We need your soapy pig to come back and block the sun for a while,” said Jackie.
“Yeah, we sure do.” If it's sunny tomorrow we're gonna be in trouble, he thought.
The dead man had been on his mind all day but neither of them had mentioned it. Every time they looked in that direction they were reminded that they were sharing the ice floe with a corpse. There was an unspoken agreement between them: that part of the floe was now hallowed ground and out of bounds. Henry knew he should look for some identification on the body, but he couldn't bear to see the man's contorted face again.
“Henry,” said Jackie, “I'm sorry I got us into this.”
“How did you do that?”
“By not being able to swim. We could have swam across the water and be with the other guys now.”
“Don't beat yourself up over it. We would have been taking a crazy chance anyway; you saw how pulpy that slob ice was. Poor Darmy couldn't even get across on his snowshoes.”