Chain Locker (37 page)

“He's a strong boy, that's for sure…and very mannerly.”

“He was such a show-off,” she said with an affectionate smile. “He could hang from the crosstree by one hand and tie a knot with the other. I couldn't look. Mr. Horwood was always telling him to stop taking chances or he would ground him—literally.”

Ada couldn't resist: “That's the problem with those young fellows. They think they're indestructible. It would do them good to have a little more fear.”

“His face was so brown from the sun, and right in the middle were those beautiful blue eyes. I love the way they shine when he smiles.”

The ice floes lay scattered on the black water for as far as they could see. Jim was pointing here and there as he directed his crew. “Isn't it interesting,” said Emily, “how Daddy changes when he's in charge of a group of men? He has such authority, compared to when he's at home.”

“He always says that's because men are easier to command than women,” Ada said warmly.

“There certainly isn't another person I would rather see in charge out there today,” said Emily. “There's nobody who knows these waters the way Daddy does. I was watching him getting ready last evening, how carefully he laid out the chart and drew the bearing that he got from the lighthouse keeper, figuring out the compass deviation and allowing for the tides and finally narrowing down to an area where he thought Henry might be. He has two lines drawn on the chart, one for his boat and one for Harold's. If I remember correctly, his will be going along the shore for about a quarter of a mile and then he'll turn and head out.”

Along the shore and on the hills that ringed the harbour, Emily could see people looking out at her father and his little group, and she took courage. These were her people, men and women shaped by the North Atlantic, out in the early morning—some of the men scanning the horizon with binoculars—because somebody was in peril on the sea. They could not read the Bible in Greek—or some of them in English for that matter—but she knew they could teach Basil a few things about faith. She knew they were quietly trusting for the safe return of the castaways.

With the bearing set and the oarsman sculling in the stern, they were finally underway. Jim took a moment to look up and wave to his wife and daughter. Expecting to see Ada waving and Emily perhaps throwing him a kiss, instead he saw Emily running towards him, yelling and waving her arms, as if she intended to hurl herself off the cliff. They could not hear her words but saw that she was pointing out to sea. Ada caught up to her. “They see us, Mama…over there, over there!” Ada joined in, pointing and waving. “One of them is standing up on the seat. Yes, over there, yes! I don't think they can hear us. That way!”

The boat swung around and the man in the stern sculled frantically through the thick ice; occasionally one or two jumped onto the ice and manhandled the boat along, and once all three of them were out hauling and straining to get the boat over a solid area. The women stood speechless now as the boat arrived alongside a floe and two men got out. They carried something and placed it into the punt and started back to shore.

Ada and Emily watched intently as the boat turned around and headed in. “Can you see who it is, Mama?”

“No, my dear; they're too far away. But I don't think it was Henry.”

After helping her mother down the slope, Emily ran to the edge of the shore ice and waited as the punt slowly wound its way in. A feeling of foreboding was upon her. If this was the stowaway, then where was Henry? Had he been drowned? Had he succumbed to the cold?

“Take him home and get him warmed up,” her father said. “He don't seem to be able to say anything, but he nodded that he was with Henry and that Henry is still alive. We're headin' right back out.”

They placed Jackie on a horse-drawn sleigh that had appeared when news of the rescue spread, and took him to Emily's house.

At that moment Basil had just entered the hospital, to find a group of people gathered at the window. “Hello, Reverend, did you hear the news? They found one of the people off the sealer. They think it's the young stowaway.”

His feeling of delight surprised Basil. He was pleased—there was no doubt about it—but it was caused by relief that the person rescued was not Henry. He put the thought out of his mind as he headed towards the women's ward.

“Knock, knock. May I come in?”

“Why Reverend, what a nice surprise,” Gennie stammered, quickly smoothing out her blankets. He noted with satisfaction that her normally pale cheeks turned pink as she looked up.

“Please, call me Basil. Ah, doing some knitting, I see.”

“They're all trying to teach me but I haven't got much patience with it. I got to do something, though, to pass away the time in here, so I'm trying to stick with it.”

“Then, perhaps I can help. I brought you some books…”

As Basil chatted with Gennie, Ada and Emily were tending to Jackie. They put dry clothing on him and sat him on the daybed with a mug of hot tea. After a couple of slices of bread with Ada's partridgeberry jam, some colour started to return to his pallid face and he smiled at the women.

“Can you speak?” Emily finally asked.

“Yes,” he whispered. The two women glanced with relief at one another.

“Are you John Gould?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Is Henry okay?” she asked cautiously.

The thought of Henry in pain out on the ice while he was safely here, in a warm house with a full belly, with two women fussing over him, overwhelmed Jackie and he burst into tears. Fearing the worst, Emily began to cry, too.

“But, John, didn't you tell my husband that Henry was still alive?” Ada asked.

Wiping his eyes, Jackie replied, “Yes, ma'am. But he's hurt pretty bad and can't walk. We got to go back out there and get him before he drives away.”

“Yes, we do!” Emily replied firmly. “Can you lead us to him?”

“Emily, dear,” her mother said, “John is in no shape to go anywhere right now; he needs to sleep. Your father will find Henry.”

As if on cue, Jackie's eyes started to droop. “So colourful…” he said dreamily.

“What's colourful?”

“Everything,” he said, as his tired eyes drifted around the room.

“…so much ice and black water for so long that I forgot what red and green and yellow stuff looks like.”

His head was nodding and his eyelids were closing. “Lay down, now, my son,” said Ada, as she put a quilt over him and he fell into a deep sleep.

A quiet, akin to gloom, descended on the house as the morning dragged on. As Jackie slept, the two women hardly spoke. Emily sat at the kitchen table, distracted, her mind racing with questions about the extent of Henry's injuries, glancing over at Jackie every few minutes to see if he had awakened. Ada sat quietly doing what she always did when she needed to calm down—knitting. The cat lay napping behind the stove. The grandfather clock in the hall ticked off the minutes and struck the hours. The fire in the stove burned down.

Nobody noticed when the house did not cool down. The temperature outside had risen dramatically.

With the window at her back, Ada had noticed the room getting dingier, as she strained to see her pattern. When she got up and looked out, she could barely see Simeon's house next door. “Don't tell me!” she lamented. “Not fog!”

In an instant Emily was at the window. “They'll never find him in the fog,” she declared with dismay. “You don't think they'll call off the search, do you, Mama?”

“I don't know, my dear; your father will do what's best. He's got to think of everybody's safety. Why don't you go over to the hospital and visit Gennie while Jackie is sleeping? I'll send somebody as soon as there's word.”

“You're right, Mama. I need to get out and do something and Gennie always gives me a lift. Maybe I'll drop in and see Olive, too.”

It's a good thing I know the way, she thought as the hospital loomed out of the fog. I hope Daddy finds his way okay.

“Hello, Gennie, you're looking really well,” she greeted her friend.

“Don't be talkin'!” Gennie replied, looking up from her dinner tray. “I don't know how anybody can look good with the grub they feed you in this place. But never mind that; come 'ere and give me a big squeeze.”

Emily gently hugged Gennie and patted her back.

“I hear your father and them found the stowaway,” said Gennie.

“News gets around.”

“Well, it's a bit of hope, right? Everybody is thinking there might be more of them found. I'm sure you are.”

Emily nodded.

“You just missed Basil. He was by here a few minutes ago. He brought me in some books and said he would probably drop in again later this evening.”

“I'm glad to hear he's spending more time with his flock and less time mooning about returning to England,” said Emily. “What books did he bring you?”

“Religious books mostly: a Bible and a book of sermons by a man named John Newton; oh, and a picture book about England.” She smiled knowingly.

“Very good,” said Emily. “I'm sure they'll do you a lot of good. Maybe you'll be able to quote me a few Bible verses the next time I'm in.”

“Maybe I will,” said Gennie. “I promised Basil I would learn a few he recommended.”

“As long as you don't ‘get good' and start thinking you're better than the rest of us.”

Gennie laughed. “Father's cousin, Jeremiah Day, down home: he got good. Went to the Army one Sunday night and got saved. But before the week was out he was on the beer and had to get saved all over again the next Sunday. This happened a few times and every time he got saved he would get full of the Spirit and dance around; one time he knocked down the stovepipe and filled the church full of smoke. After that the poor Salvation Army officer was scared to death every time he seen him comin'.”

Emily smiled thoughtfully. Lying in the hospital bed all day and facing an uncertain future was taking the hard edge off Gennie. Perhaps her stay in the hospital would cure her of more than tuberculosis. And it was Basil now; not “the minister” or plain “him.”

chapter forty-two

“The boats are back and they never found nobody,” said Agnes.

“That's too bad, that is,” said Elfreda Tizzard, “but I'm not surprised, with all that fog out there. I suppose they'll have to wait until it lifts before they try again?”

“They're not goin' out anymore,” said Agnes. “They're give up.”

“What! Give up? Jim Osmond? Who told you that?”

“I heard it from Mr. Small. You know: Solomon Small. He just helped them stow away their gear.”

“Are you talkin' about silly Sol Small? The one who castrates his cats with the pocketknife?”

“There's only one Sol Small as I know for.”

“Sure he's as crazy as a coot. I wouldn't put much stock in anything he says, a man who castrates his cats.”

“He says it makes them grow bigger. It does something to them because he got at least a dozen over there and they're wonderful hands at catching conners.”

“Get away wit' ya. Cats can't swim.”

“These can, girl! He says they take right to the water after he doctors them.”

“What do they catch conners for?”

“How else are they gonna stay alive? He never feeds them, sure.”

“I don't believe a word of it, comin' from silly Sol Small. He's the oddest stick I ever heard tell of.”

“You can believe what you like, but I seen 'em catch conners with my own eyes, dartin' around like seals right off the head of the wharf.”

“I don't believe a word of it and I don't believe Jim Osmond won't be back out there, neither. If that maid of his—”

“Old maid, you mean.”

“If that maid of his wants it, he'll be out there like a crow to a carcass. He can't say no to her.”

Wints and Olive had been waiting at the tickle bridge when the boats came in. Joining the group that materialized below the bridge, Wints said to Jim, “You fellas take it easy, now. You done enough work for today; go on home and get something to eat. We'll clear up the gear and take care of the punts. You may as well go on home too, Olive. Mom told me that Emily is over to the hospital visiting Gennie.

I'll go over and let her know.”

“You should go home with Mr. Osmond and give him a hand, Wints,” said Olive, “I'll run over and tell Emily. That's a long walk for you.”

When Olive arrived, she found Basil was also visiting with Gennie. He listened with more than a little interest as Olive relayed the news. Maintaining his most grave demeanour, he deemed it wise not to speak, daring only to snatch an occasional glance at Emily's darkened face. The three left the hospital together, Olive with her arm around Emily, quietly consoling her, with Basil tagging along, three steps behind and not quite sure of what to say or do, his own emotions so muddled that he was at a loss for words.

The stiffening northeast wind blew in their faces, swirling the tattered wisps of fog around them like cotton candy. Basil had hoped he had seen the last of fog when he left England, but it seemed that everything he disliked most turned up somewhere in Twillingate.

When they walked into Emily's house they found Jackie awake and obviously distressed, recounting to Emily's father and Wints the events of the week. He had dreamed of arriving ashore and then leading a multitude of townsfolk in the heroic rescue of his friend. It had not occurred to him that twenty-four hours after leaving Henry he would be sitting comfortably in a warm room, well fed and rested, and Henry would still be out on the ice.

“Can't we go back out, Daddy?” Emily pleaded. “Henry can't help himself. We're his only hope.”

“I'm sure I can find him, Mr. Osmond,” said Jackie. “I know where he is.”