Chain Locker (23 page)

“That's the God's truth—not a word of a lie.”

They stood silent for awhile, unable to move because of the darkness, each thinking of home. Then, Henry spoke. “I imagine a feller would be lonely out here by himself. Good thing we got company, eh?”

“Yeah, I'll say,” Jackie replied.

“Sometimes standing the watch aboard ship gets pretty lonely. Four hours by yourself in the pitch-black night right up on the forepeak, gives you lots of time to imagine all sorts of things coming up out of the water to get you. I can see why sailors are so superstitious.”

“I thought you didn't believe in ghosts?”

“I don't, but that don't mean it can't be creepy in the dark. I remember once when I was a gaffer I was walking back from Luke's Arm by myself after being over to Art Boyd's. It was in the summer, a nice warm evening and a bunch of us were having such a good time that I didn't realize how late it had got. I was under firm orders to be home before dark and I kept drivin' it off and puttin' it off, thinking I could run all the way home. Before I knew it, it was that dark you couldn't see a hand in front of your face.

“Well, there was no way I could run in the pitch black. So, I started walking and, of course, before I knew it I was lost and somehow had myself believing I was in the graveyard. So I kept feeling for the headstones and I wasn't findin' any, but then I had this feeling there was something near me. I thought I could hear breathin' but I wasn't sure, so I stopped—”

“That's enough! I don't want to hear anymore,” Jackie's panicked voice shot out in the darkness.

“No, there was no ghost; don't worry—”

“Was it some guy carrying his head under his arm?”

“Let me finish. I could feel the hair standing up on the back of my neck. I kept thinking, ‘I know there's something here.' I could sense it. Then all of a sudden I tripped over something and went ass over teakettle—”

“What was it? A coffin? Was there a body in it?”

“Nah, it was a sheep!” Henry laughed. “Never thought I'd see the day I was scared half to death by a shitty-assed old sheep. Well, I let out a vicious yell and the stupid sheep was bleatin' and there was such a racket it woke up Uncle Jack Anstey. It turned out that I was right by his house, but there was no light on because he goes to bed before dark in the summer. Doesn't believe in ‘…stayin' up 'til all hours with the lamps burning, wastin' kerosene oil.' So then I knew where I was—only half a dozen or so houses from ours. There was hell to pay when I finally showed up home.”

“Well, I suppose one of us should try to get a bit of sleep, eh? How are you feelin'? Do you want to keel out for a spell?”

“I'm not sleepy,” Jackie replied, as he pictured himself turning onto his street and walking the last hundred feet to his house. “Why don't you go ahead and have a sleep and I'll do the first watch?”

“Okay then,” Henry said. “Here's the gaff. You can lean on it to keep yourself steady. Whatever you do, don't put it down because we're screwed if we lose it. If you see a light give me a call and we'll get the fire goin'.”

With that, Henry curled up inside their crude ice shelter and, despite the discomfort, eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

chapter twenty-six

“That was a very fine meal, Olive,” said Basil as he drained the last drop of tea from his cup. “If you don't mind, I'll be on my way now.”

“Thank you, Reverend; I'm sorry I didn't have time to prepare something better. And thank you for spending some time comforting my mother and praying with her. Lord willing, things will turn out okay.”

“Indeed. We must all pray diligently for the safe return of your father and br—”

“Oh, it's Wints,” said Olive, as the back door swung open. “How is Aunt Darc and they doin', Wints?”

“Not too good. They already knew by the time I got there.”

“Were there others from our community aboard the stricken ship?” asked Basil.

“Our first cousin, Aunt Darc's son is aboard,” said Olive. “Wints just got back from taking the news to her and Uncle Eli in Cottle's Island.”

“Dear me; another family member in peril.”

“Yes. His mother and our father are sister and brother. We don't see much of him these days, although he used to visit next door fairly often to see Emily, before the winter set in.”

“Eli is her second husband. Henry's father died from TB years ago,” said Sadie. “You've heard me talk about your uncle Cliff, Olive.”

“Yes, Mom, I remember.”

“I'm sorry for being so anxious, Reverend. I…I…”

“It's all right, Mom. The minister understands.”

“I didn't ask you if you liked the seal, Reverend. Have you had it before?”

“Yes, Sadie, thank you for asking. I have had it before. The highlight of the meal for me was that capital fruit cake of yours. I declare, that's an award-winning cake.”

“Yes, I mind you liking my cake the other night over to Ada's.”

“Speaking of Mrs. Osmond, perhaps I'll drop next door to say hello on my way home.”

He stopped outside Sadie's back door. Had they noticed his jaw drop at the mention of somebody visiting Emily? Was she interested in another man? Was that why she had seemed so evasive when he brought up the subject of marriage? He had to find out just what was going on—that is, if she was not still upset with him. Perhaps she had had time to think about his offer and could see what an opportunity it was for her.

Ada invited him in. “She's up in her room with a bad head, but I'll check and see if she's up to seeing you, Reverend Hudson.”

Ada was back in less than a minute. “I'm sorry, but she's very low over the news about the sealing ship and is feeling too poorly for a visit right now. I hope you understand.”

“Of course,” said Basil. “The news about Simeon and his sons must be very upsetting. I imagine she has known them since childhood.” “Yes. She growed up with them boys. Will you have a cup of tea?”

“Did she have any relatives aboard? Any cousins perhaps?”

“No, no relatives; just a special friend,” Ada replied cautiously.

“I see. A special friend in what way? Somebody from school?”

Ada paused before replying. “Perhaps you might like to ask Emily yourself when she's feeling better.”

“Is there something else troubling her? She seemed very distant last evening, when your guests were leaving.”

“She's worried about Gennie…and what that will mean for the school. She's always been very conscientious and not having Gennie has her worried. Will I put on the kettle?”

“No, thank you. I must be going.”

Emily had tried all evening to focus on preparing tomorrow's lesson plans and correcting the day's work, but all she could do was think of Henry. She finally got into bed and stared into the blackness, thinking back to her premonition. At worst Henry was dead, or at best he was in terrible straits. Sleep was the last thing on her mind. She thought of talking to somebody, but she was reluctant to encumber others with her emotions when other women were facing the possible loss of a companion of many years or sons they had borne. Poor Sadie: her husband and two sons! And Olive: her father and two brothers! Suddenly she felt selfish. She had considered going next door, but was afraid that she would have been a burden instead of a comfort. Sadie was by nature emotionally fragile, and poor Olive was probably exhausted from trying to comfort her. She was riddled with guilt for not being a source of strength for her friend.

Her mind went to the evening Henry had proposed to her, in the very place she had sat last night when Basil brought up the subject of marriage. She had been deeply moved by the tenderness of Henry's thoughts for her, his bright blue eyes brimming with sincerity as he expressed his love to her, a simple but profound declaration that he had probably memorized, and she could remember almost every word of it. He was not an eloquent man, but he was a man with deep feelings. She should have said yes on the spot.

Basil's proposal had been almost businesslike by comparison. The words were well chosen but, of course, choosing the right words was part of his calling: a word to comfort the sick; a gentle touch on the arm and a reminder of heaven to strengthen a faltering widow; the appropriate tone whatever the situation called for. That competence and smoothness that she had found so attractive was not sitting well with her now. Charismatic he was, and heaven knows he had charmed his whole congregation (well, all except Gennie; Emily smiled at the thought), but he lacked Henry's sincerity. She was finally coming to appreciate the depth of his love for her. Basil seemed to be more interested in what she could do for him, how well she would complement his career. Perhaps Gennie had been right all along—he cared more for how he would look walking in the park in London with Emily on his arm. She must make a point of letting poor, sick Gennie know that she had come to her senses and realized what, deep down, she had known all along—that her heart belonged to Henry.

She should have told her mother weeks ago that Henry had proposed to her. Why was she so reluctant to share such things with her mother? Wasn't that what mothers were there for? If she had, then Ada would not have worked so energetically to match her up with Basil, and this tangled state of affairs would never have materialized. I just wanted to spite her for always sticking her nose in my business, Emily thought. I need to grow up.

She should have had the courage to go downstairs this evening and tell Basil about Henry. She listened to the wind outside her window. It had started to snow, small hard flakes that smote the side of the house and pinged against the window. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she pictured Henry on the ice, with nowhere to take shelter, the hard snow hitting his face as he squinted to keep it out of his eyes. “God, please give me another chance to make things right with Henry,” she spoke into the blackness.

chapter twenty-seven

Fifty miles out to sea, in the absolute darkness of the North Atlantic, the waves were building. For the first time in the thirty-something hours that they had been on their ice island they started to feel the forces of the sweeping ocean acting beneath them. Bit by bit in his half-awake state, Henry was becoming aware of the movement, but he was weary and it didn't fully register. He was tired of the hard ice, tired of shivering, tired of drifting in and out of sleep despite being exhausted. His senses were numb, like his body. Their situation was so precarious and the number of things that could befall them so vast that he did not even want to think about it. But the creaking ice and the howling wind screamed for his attention. Why were they harassing him? What did they expect from him, whose resources were non-existent? What good was vigilance when he had nothing with which to react?

Suddenly a violent crack jolted him out of his apathy and he jumped to his feet. There was no mistaking what had occurred. The stress of the sea's heaving had started to break up their ice sheet. Bang! it went again.

“Jack!” he yelled. “Jack, b'y, where are you to?” There was no answer.

The sound of sloshing water seemed to surround him. He gingerly extended his left leg sideways, like a timid crab, feeling with his foot for solid ice and straining to keep his balance to avoid falling in. How he missed his gaff. “Jack!” He slid his right leg over to meet his left and continued to inch his way across the ice, alternately extending his left foot and catching up with his right, like a dancer doing a two-step. Suddenly he kicked what he thought must be the gaff. Getting down on his hands and knees he groped around until he found it. Now that he could steady himself, he felt more confident. “Jack, my son, where the hell are you? Answer me.”

The roaring of the wind and the sea swallowed his words. Poking the gaff forward like a blind man with a cane, he slowly moved about, praying that Jackie had not drifted away. He clunked into what felt like a low wall of ice—their ice shelter? Yes! Good. At least now he knew where he was. Taking his bearings, he moved forward perhaps twenty steps in the direction where Jackie had been when he last spoke to him. Hitting something soft, he gave it another prod with the gaff.

“Ouch! Who's there?”

“What're you doin', sleeping when you're supposed to be on the lookout?”

“Well, excuse me for being tired,” he answered, dragging himself to his feet. “Who do you think you are, anyway, my friggin' father?”

“You said you weren't tired. I was gonna take the first shift and let you sleep. You're lucky you're not drove away. And why are you so damned cranky? Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“If I had a bed to get up out of! Man, I wish I'd never seen the
Viking
.”

“Well, we're here now, so we got to make the best of it. There's no point in keeping a watch; we can't see nothin' in this weather. Let's get in outa this wind.”

Back behind the ice wall, as they huddled together to wait out the night, the significance of Henry's remark sank in. “Did you say the ice is breakin' up?”

“Didn't you hear those cracks just then?”

“Never heard a thing. I sat down to rest my legs and that's all I remember until you stuck the gaff into me.”

“I wish I could sleep like that. There was a couple of pretty good cracks a few minutes ago. I got no idea what's left of this one, but at least we're floatin'.”

For now, Jackie thought. He had lost his desire for sleeping.

The snow swirled above them as they huddled in their crude ice shelter, fearing what was coming next. With unspeakable relief, they eventually detected signs that the longest night either of them could remember was finally waning. In the pale morning light they scraped up some of the freshly fallen snow to relieve their burning throats.