Man on the Ice (8 page)

Well, so much for that. I decided to sell my fine boat. Before I got rid of her
(my glass-bottom boat, I mean), I cut
a sheet of 12-foot plywood,
and cut it lengthways to make a plywood bottom to place over the top of the
glass so that Irene couldn’t see through. I figured she would be okay as long as
she couldn’t see through, and I could take it out when I fished alone, so I could
enjoy the glass bottom. But no way would she get back in that boat. She knew
there was still a glass bottom and she wasn’t going to have anything to do with
it. Soon after, I sold my fine boat to Mr. Edwin Smith. He wasn’t afraid of the
bottom.

I then built a seven-foot old-fashioned model schooner. I called it the
Gull
Pond
. Our town council now has her and wants to put her on display, or
that’s the plan, I think. I then built a six-foot old-fashioned trap skiff like
we used to haul cod traps with at one time. I put a 6-HP water pump engine in
her and inserted the nozzle from the hose out through the stern post, where the
shaft and blades would go, and made her a powered boat, driven by the force of
the water. She operates by remote control too. The latest model boat I built was
another old-fashioned schooner like the
Gull Pond
, for our first
great-grandchild, Abbey Rose. I named the schooner
Abbey Rose
, after
her.

FOLLOWING A NUMBER OF
back surgeries, I thought my life was
getting back to normal. I was doing a few things more than I was able to do
before and enjoying life to its fullest. I got up one October morning and went
out in boat to shoot a few turrs. I came home with my quota of twenty. My wife
picked them clean and stored them away in the freezer for the winter. I spent
the rest of the evening relaxing at home and headed to bed at around 11: 30 p.m.
I was feeling quite restless, and by six o’clock in the
morning I
was up with what I thought was heartburn. A few moments later, I was
experiencing severe chest pains. I could hardly breathe.

Irene called my brother Herb, who came to my home right away and called an
ambulance. I was taken to St. Anthony Hospital where the doctor confirmed that I
had suffered a heart attack. I spent three nights in St. Anthony as I awaited a
bed at the Health Sciences Centre in St. John’s. Once I arrived, I received a
dye test, which confirmed that I had two blockages. The doctor told me that I did
not require any in-patient treatment at the time, and sent me home with some
medication. The meds did the job for the next four years.

On November 31, 2008, Irene and I, along with our son Darryl, went to Brampton,
Ontario, to visit our three sons and our grandchildren and spend Christmas with
them. During the holidays I wasn’t feeling well. I was very tired and often
short of breath. On January 9, 2009, my son Denley convinced me to go and see a
doctor. Once again, I was diagnosed with blockages. This time there were five. I
spent a few days in the hospital in Brampton, where I received four
stents.

On January 30, 2009, we returned home to St. Lunaire. I grew stronger with each
day. Spring came and it was seal hunting time. The question was, “Am I going
sealing or not?” But, of course, sealing was in my blood, and I
couldn’t stay on the land while my buddies were out in their boats.

SUNDAY
,
MAY
 3, 2009, was a beautiful day. There
was just enough wind to keep the ice off the shore about a mile or so. I
thought,
It’s going to be a good day out in boat tomorrow
. I had heard
about a few seals the boys had gotten down around Cape Bauld. Off to church I
went, with the seals, the ice, and the boat on my mind. I didn’t go sealing on
Sundays, so I got up Monday morning around 6: 00 a.m. and looked out my living
room window. The ice situation was about the same as it had been
yesterday.

The morning of May 4 was beautiful and the waters were calm. I
watched as the other boats were getting ready to venture out. I said to my wife,
“I have to go sealing for a few hours, it’s such a nice day. I’ll only be gone
for four or five hours.”

The wind was southern just enough to keep the ice scattered so that the
speedboat could get through it. I thought,
This is going to be a good day out
in boat.
I got in my truck and drove around town, just waiting to see if
some of the boys were going out in their boats today. Not seeing anyone on the
move yet, I went back to the house for a cup of tea and a slice of toast. I sat
with my tea and toast in front of the window, looking down toward the government
wharf at my boat sitting there beside Verrick and Roger Patey’s boats.

I was thinking that nobody was very interested in seals, because the price per
pelt was only around eight dollars, and the rule was that you had to have a
buyer for your pelts before you went out, if you were hoping to sell them. For
me, though, selling the pelts wasn’t the main reason I wanted to go. I
remembered going sealing when I was only a young boy, around ten or eleven years
of age, and I always enjoyed it. It was in my blood. I remember going out in a
rowboat with my uncle, George Saunders. We went out about a mile or so offshore
to the edge of
the ice. I remember we killed a young harp seal
on the ice that day, and I was so excited. I had seen seals in the water before,
but it was the first time I had seen a seal on ice. Back then you couldn’t sell
the seal pelts, but we brought the meat home and we had a nice scoff of seal for
supper.

As I was looking out the window at the boats, I saw Verrick’s truck going down
on the wharf, and when I saw Roger’s truck going down as well, I knew that it
was time for me to get on the go. I had my rifle and lunch bag aboard my truck. I
was in a hurry because I was quite eager to get out in my boat. By the time I
reached the wharf, Verrick had his boat in the water. Roger had brought along
his snow machine, and they were pulling the boats out to the edge of the land
and sliding them into the water. Verrick looked at me and said, “You want your
boat pulled out for sure.”

I said, “Yes, b’y.” So we hooked up the painter of my boat to the snow machine,
and away we went for the water. By this time there were a few more fellows
around as we slid her into the water.

Roger and my brother Herb were in Roger’s boat, while Verrick, Jim, and our
youth pastor, Shannon Rogers, were in Verrick’s boat. They were getting ready to
go and I wondered if I had enough gas. I had a full tank and an extra five-gallon
can. Just to be sure, I went back to the gas station and got another five-gallon
can of gas. Now I had
plenty. I always carry a five-gallon can of
gas that I call my emergency gas, and I store it in one of the lockers of the
boat.

While I was at the gas station, Lester Hedderson came along and asked, “You’re
going out in boat all alone?”

I said, “Yes, b’y.”

“Well,” he said, “I sure would like to go with you. It’s going to be a nice
day on the water. But I have too much work to do.”

I replied, “That’s okay. I’ve been alone since my boys moved to Brampton back
ten or twelve years ago.” I paid for my gas and went back to my boat.

Lloyd Curtis was on the wharf with his son Paul. They had just bought a brand
new 35-foot longliner, and the price for seal pelts was enough for him to go at
it. He said, “Boy, oh boy. I sure would like be going out there with you today,
but I got too much work to do.”

I headed out in my boat and began the hunt. My life-changing ordeal was about
to begin.

I left the wharf around ten-thirty that morning. The ice went for two or three
miles. The wind was south-southwest, about five or six knots, just right to keep
the ice off the land and keep it scattered apart. I got to the ice around 11:
00 a.m. or so. The ice was big, and scattered about a hundred feet or so apart,
just right for sealing, but
the seals were very scarce. I didn’t
see any other boats, so I went up the shore a bit toward the Brehat Shoals. Then
I turned and went toward the White Islands. I only saw one seal. I think it was
an old seal. It didn’t stay up very long.

Around 11: 30 a.m. I saw a boat with three men, so I went in toward them. It
was Uncle Ralph Pilgrim with his son Ambrose, and their friend Willie Pilgrim.
They were about three miles off Griquet Cape. They were having a cup of tea, so
I stopped and had a cup of tea and a sandwich with them. While we talked, they
mentioned that they saw one young harp in the water. They were having their
mug-up while they waited for the seal to come up. After talking for half an hour
or so, I decided to go up to the southern. There was still no wind and the sun
was shining. It was a bit cold, maybe -4 or -5 degrees Celsius, just a real nice
day on the water. I was enjoying it very much.

I saw a young harp in the water after steaming about an hour or so. Steaming on
toward him, I proceeded to get the rifle ready. I had a brand new .223 with a
good scope that was right on. My brother Ezra has a machine for setting scopes.
He’s also a gunsmith. The seal went down and I took the motor out of gear. When
I looked to my left, I saw the young harp on a pan of ice. I put the motor in
gear and turned the boat toward the seal and shot it. When I took it into the
boat, I spotted another one on a pan. So, I got him
in the
scope, while yet another one started to go across the pan. I shot the one that
was just lying there. Taking that one aboard my boat, I then saw one more in the
water. Before I got him in the scope, three more came up. The four harps were
almost touching each other. I took a shot and missed. They were all gone then.
While I was waiting around to see where they were going to come up, I saw
another one on the pan of ice. I went for that one and shot it. When I went to
hook the gaff in him, I saw two more. So I got both of them before I put my gun
down, and I pulled the three harps aboard my boat.

I was having a great day. There were seals all around there, everywhere. I
didn’t bother the ones in the water; I had a better chance at the ones on the
ice because the sun was shining and the seals were asleep. They didn’t know what
hit them. Although I wasn’t at it for the money, at eight dollars a pelt they
would give me enough money for gas, and that was good enough for me. I wanted to
bottle the seal meat for ourselves and keep a few for our sons living in
Brampton. They came home every summer and took back cases of bottled seal,
moose, and turrs. Our daughter, Trudy, lives in Roddickton with her husband,
Alonzo, and their children, Gregory and Leann. They like bottled seal, too. So,
ten or a dozen seal carcasses were good, with a few meals to give away.

With no other boats around, I was doing well with the seals. I
got two on another ice pan and I hauled them in the boat. It was really warm.
The sun was shining, and no wind. I was a bit too warm, so I unzipped my floater
suit as far as the belt buckle around my waist. I pulled it open to let the air
get in and cool me off a bit. It felt good.

Around 3: 30 p.m., the cellphone in my shirt pocket began to ring. I answered
and it was my wife, Irene. She said, “The two boats that went out when you went
out are in now.” She was talking about Verrick and Roger Patey’s boats. “It
started to blow a bit in here, so you better get in here.”

I said, “Okay.”

“Where are you? Do you have either seal?”

“Yes, maid,” I replied, “I got nine now.”

“That’s good. Come in now.”

“I’m leaving now,” I said. “I’m about four or five miles off Griquet Cape or
White Cape. I’ll be home in an hour or so. I got a bit of ice to poke through,
then I’ll be in to the wharf.”

I put the phone back into my shirt pocket. I had the motor about half-throttle
when I looked around behind me, and there were two more young harps on a pan. I
figured,
I’ll get those two, then I’ll be on my way home.

I wasn’t in any big hurry because there wasn’t any
wind and the
sun was shining. I was looking at the two on the ice pan, which was about twenty
or thirty feet long, and about fifteen to twenty feet wide. I grabbed the
throttle and pulled her out of gear and waited for the boat to strike the ice on
her bow and bounce off, so I could put her in gear and go on again, just like I
did a hundred times. I’m sure everyone who has been sealing in a speedboat or
longliner has done the same.

My boat didn’t bounce off the ice pan like I thought she would. Instead, she
ran up on the pan of ice and tipped to one side, and the nine seals fell down on
her side. I looked back and I saw water coming in over the gunnels. I got up on
the other side, trying to take the gunnels out of the water, but it was too
late. She was going over, bottom-up. The next thing I saw was water about a foot
or so from my face. I took a deep breath and held on. The next thing I knew, I
was underneath the boat. I quickly came up above the surface and gasped for a
breath of air. It was then I realized I had a mouthful of salt water. I spit it
out and my bottom set of false teeth flicked out and dropped out of my reach,
into the water.

My floater suit had me pinned to the bottom of my boat. Somehow I got hold of
the steering wheel and the gunnel and pulled myself down. If I hadn’t unzipped
my suit earlier, I would not be here now, because I would not
have been able to pull myself down. My shirt was open and the water poured
inside, and that allowed me to be able to pull myself down and out from
underneath my boat.

The water was very cold. My wool cap was gone and I had nothing on my hands. I
tried to climb up on the bottom of my boat, but that was impossible. I got hold
of the keel with one hand and the gunnel with the other hand, but the boat was
twisting and turning. I had to let go and swim to an ice pan about twenty feet
away. I tried to pull myself up on the ice pan at three or four places, but I
couldn’t get up at all. I almost made it up, but the buckle on my floater suit
would get caught on the edge of the ice pan. I put my hand down to try to get it
free, but this made me slide back down into the water again. I tried again, but
I was only tearing the skin off my fingers.

The ice was too hard and slippery to hold onto, so I looked at my boat. She was
still bottom-up and going down by the stern. The weight of the motor was pulling
her down. I swam back to the stern, the lowest part and easiest to climb up on.
I got hold of the keel and the gunnel and slowly pulled myself along the bottom,
until finally I could reach the ring in the middle of the stem. I got my two
fingers in the ring and pulled myself up on the bottom of the boat. I put my two
knees together and held onto the ring with both hands. As I watched the boat
slowly drifting
toward a bigger ice pan, I thought,
If only
she stays afloat long enough to reach that ice pan, I’ll get off and I’ll be
okay
. I could feel the boat slowly sinking below me as I held on.
Finally, she hit the ice and I just fell over on my side onto the ice pan.

The boat disappeared about ten minutes later. She sank to the bottom. There was
no sign of anything from the boat; neither the gaff nor paddle floated up. I had
emptied my five-gallon can of gas into the gas tank about an hour or so before
and placed the empty can on top of the seals. I saw only one dead seal floating
around. He must have come out of the boat.

I didn’t expect to see my survival bucket. That’s the five-gallon bucket I have,
with all my survival things in it, like tarpaulin, flares, matches, flare gun,
candles, and a small propane stove with two green propane tanks, a wool cap,
socks, and gloves. If I got stuck in the ice or my motor broke down, all I had
to do was pull the tarpaulin over the front part of the boat and I’d have a real
nice place to lie down. I called it a five-gallon bucket, but it was probably
seven or eight gallons. I don’t know where I got it. Anyway, it was a big bucket
with a tight cover on it. It was waterproof, and I kept it in one of the lockers
so I could get at it if I needed it. I thought for sure I would soon see the
empty five-gallon gas can afloat, but I didn’t. And
as for the
five-gallon can full of gas, I thought that one had sunk with the boat.

My boat was a very nice boat. It was a 19-foot Seabreeze with a walk-through
windshield, and my motor was a Mercury 50-HP four-stroke BigFoot. I only had the
boat three years, and the motor five years. I had a brand new .223 sealing rifle
and about twenty boxes of bullets, and a twelve-gauge goose gun with about seven
or eight boxes of slugs, just in case something went wrong with the rifle, or if
I could get a better shot at seals in the water with slugs. It’s hard to get a
seal in the scope of a rifle when it’s blowing a bit. I lost about $15,000 in
all. That was a very big loss to me, but I was on the ice pan walking around,
when I could have gotten stuck underneath my boat and gone to the bottom of the
Atlantic Ocean with her.