Under the Great Bear

by Kirk Munroe

  CHAPTER V.

  WHITE BALDWIN AND HIS "SEA BEE."

  The hour that preceded the coming of that heaven-sent schooner was theblackest of Cabot Grant's life, and as he sat with bowed head on thewet platform of his tossing raft he was utterly hopeless. He believedthat he should never again hear a human voice nor tread the blessedland--yes, everything was ended for him, or very nearly so, andwhatever record he had made in life must now stand without addition orcorrection. His thoughts went back as far as he could rememberanything, and every act of his life was clearly recalled. How meansome of them now appeared; how thoughtless, indifferent, or selfish hehad been in others. Latterly how he had been filled with a sense ofhis own importance, how he had worked and schemed for a littlepopularity, and now who would regret him, or give his memory more thana passing thought?

  Thorpe Walling would say: "Served him right for throwing me over, as hedid," and others would agree with him. Even Mr. Hepburn, who haddoubtless given him a chance merely because he was his guardian, wouldeasily find a better man to put in his place. Some cousins whom he hadnever seen nor cared to know would rejoice on coming into possession ofhis little property; and so, on the whole, his disappearance wouldcause more of satisfaction than regret. Most bitter of all was thethought that he would never have the opportunity of changing, or atleast of trying to change, this state of affairs, since he haddoubtless looked at the sun for the last time, and the blackness of anendless night was about to enfold him.

  Had he really seen his last ray of sunlight and hope? No; it could notbe. There must be a gleam left. The sun could not have set yet. Helifted his head. There was no sun to be seen. With a cry of terror hesprang to his feet, and, from the slight elevation thus gained, oncemore beheld the mighty orb of day, and life, and promise, crowning witha splendour infinitely beyond anything of this earth, the distantshore-line that he had striven so stoutly to gain.

  Dazzled by its radiance, Cabot saw nothing else during the minute thatit lingered above the horizon. Then, as it disappeared, he utteredanother cry, but this time it was one of incredulous and joyfulamazement, for close at hand, coming directly towards him from out thewestern glory, was a ship bearing a new lease of life and freightedwith new opportunities.

  The poor lad tried to wave his cap at the new-comers; but after afeeble attempt sank to his knees, overcome by weakness and gratitude.It was in that position they found him as the little schooner wasrounded sharply into the wind, and, with fluttering sails, lay closealongside the drifting raft.

  David flung a line that Cabot found strength to catch and hold to,while the young skipper of the "Sea Bee" sprang over her low rail andalighted beside the castaway just as the latter staggered to his feetwith outstretched hand. The stranger grasped it tightly in both ofhis, and for a moment the two gazed into each other's eyes without aword. Cabot tried to speak, but something choked him so that he couldnot; and, noting this, the other said gently:

  "It is all over now, and you are as safe as though you stood on dryland; so don't try to say anything till we've made you comfortable, forI know you must have had an almighty hard time."

  "Yes," whispered Cabot. "I've been hungry, and thirsty, and wet, andcold, and scared; but now I'm only grateful--more grateful than I canever tell."

  A little later the life raft, its mission accomplished, was left totoss and drift at will, while the "Sea Bee," with everything set anddrawing finely, was rapidly regaining her course, guided by thefar-reaching flash of Cape Race light. In her dingy little cabin,which seemed to our rescued lad the most delightfully snug, warm, andaltogether comfortable place he had ever entered, Cabot lay in theskipper's own bunk, regarding with intense interest the movements ofthat busy youth.

  The latter had lighted a swinging lamp, started a fire in a small andvery rusty galley stove, set a tea kettle on to boil, and a pan of coldchowder to re-warm. Having thus got supper well under way, he returnedto the cabin, where he proceeded to set the table. The worst ofCabot's distress had already been relieved by a cup of cold tea and aship's biscuit. Now, finding that he was able to talk, his host couldno longer restrain his curiosity, but began to ask questions. He hadalready learned Cabot's name, and told his own, which was WhitewayBaldwin, "called White for short," he had added. Now he said:

  "You needn't talk, if you don't feel like it, but I do wish you couldtell how you came to be drifting all alone on that raft."

  "A steamer that I was on was wrecked yesterday, and so far as I know Iam the only survivor," answered Cabot.

  "Goodness! You don't say so! What steamer was she, where was shebound, and what part of the coast was she wrecked on?"

  "She was the 'Lavinia' from New York for St. Johns, and she wasn'twrecked on any part of the coast, but was lost at sea."

  "_Jiminetty_! The 'Lavinia'! It don't seem possible. How did ithappen? There hasn't been any gale. Did she blow up, or what?"

  "I don't know," replied Cabot, "for I was down-stairs when it tookplace, and my stateroom door was jammed so that I couldn't get out fora long time. I only know that there was the most awful crash I everheard, and it seemed as though the ship were being torn to pieces.Then there came an explosion, and when I got on deck the ship wassinking so fast that I had only time to cut loose the raft before shewent down."

  "What became of the others?" asked White excitedly.

  "I am afraid they were drowned, for I heard them shouting just beforeshe sank, but there was such a cloud of steam, smoke, and fog that Icouldn't see a thing, and after it was all over I seemed to be the onlyone left."

  "Wasn't there a rock or ship or anything she might have run into?"asked the young skipper, whose tanned face had grown pale as helistened to this tale of sudden disaster.

  "There was an iceberg," replied Cabot, "but when I went down-stairs itwasn't very close, and the sun was shining, so that it was in plainsight."

  "That must be what she struck, though," declared the other. Then hethrust his head up the companionway and shouted: "Hear the news, Dave.The 'Lavinia's' lost with all on board, except the chap we've justpicked up."

  "What happened her?" asked the man laconically.

  "He says she ran into an iceberg in clear day, bust up, and sank withall hands, inside of a minute."

  "Rot!" replied the practical sailor. "The 'Laviny' had collisionbulkheads, and couldn't have sunk in no sich time, ef she could at all.'Sides Cap'n Phinney ain't no man to run down a berg in clear day, noryet in the night, nor no other time. He's been on this coast and theLabrador run too long fur any sich foolishness. No, son, ef the'Laviny's' lost, which mind, I don't say she ain't, she's lost someother way 'sides that, an' you can tell your friend so with mycompliments."

  Cabot did not overhear these remarks, and wondered at the queer look onthe young skipper's face when he reentered the cabin, as he did at thesilence with which the latter resumed his preparations for supper. Atthe same time he was still too weak, and, in spite of his biscuit, tooravenously hungry to care for further conversation just then. So itwas only after a most satisfactory meal and several cups of very hottea that he was ready in his turn to ask questions. But he was notgiven the chance; for, as soon as White Baldwin was through witheating, he went on dock to relieve the tiller, and the other member ofthe crew, whose name was David Gidge, came below.

  He was a man of remarkable appearance, of very broad shoulders and longarms; but with legs so bowed outward as to materially lower hisstature, which would have been short at best, and convert his gait intoan absurd waddle. His face was disfigured by a scar across one cheekthat so drew that corner of his mouth downward as to produce apeculiarly forbidding expression. He also wore a bristling iron-greybeard that grew in form of a fringe or ruff, and added an air offerocity to his make up.

  As this striking-looking individual entered the cabin and rolled into aseat at the table, he cast one glance, accompanied by a grunt, atCabot, and then proceeded to attend strictly to the business in hand.He ate in such prodi
gious haste, and gulped his food in such vastmouthfuls, that he had cleaned the table of its last crumb, and wasfiercely stuffing black tobacco into a still blacker pipe, beforeCabot, who really wished to talk with him, had decided how to open theconversation. Lighting his pipe and puffing it into a ruddy glow, Mr.Gidge made a waddling exit from the cabin, bestowing on our lad anothergrunt as he passed him, and leaving an eddying wake of rank tobaccosmoke to mark his passage.

  For some time after this episode Cabot struggled to keep awake in thehope that White would return and answer some of his questions; butfinally weariness overcame him, and he fell into a sleep that lastedwithout a break until after sunrise of the following morning.

  In the meantime the little schooner had held her course, and sweptonward past the flashing beacons of Cape Race, Cape Pine, and Cape St.Mary, until, at daylight, she was standing across the broad reach ofPlacentia Bay towards the bald headland of Cape Chapeau Rouge. She wasmaking a fine run, and in spite of his weariness after a six hours'watch on deck, White Baldwin presented a cheery face to Cabot, as thelatter vainly strove to recognise and account for his surroundings.

  "Good morning," said the young skipper, "I hope you have slept well,and are feeling all right again."

  "Yes, thank you," replied Cabot, suddenly remembering, "I sleptsplendidly, and am as fit as a fiddle. Have we made a good run?"

  "Fine; we have come nearly a hundred miles from the place where wepicked you up."

  "Then we must be almost to St. Johns," suggested Cabot, tumbling fromhis bunk as he spoke. "I am glad, for it is important that I shouldget there as quickly as possible."

  "St. Johns!" replied the other blankly. "Didn't you know that we hadcome from St. Johns, and were going in the opposite direction? Why, weare more than one hundred and fifty miles from there at this minute."