by Kirk Munroe
CHAPTER XXX.
THE COMING OF DAVID GIDGE.
White, who was still confined to the hut with his strained ankle,announced that they no longer had any oil upon Cabot's return at duskfrom a day of fruitless hunting and outlook duty on the ice.
"That's bad," replied the latter, in a tone whose cheerfulness stroveto conceal his anxiety. "Now we'll have to burn the sled. Lucky thingfor us that it's of wood instead of being one of those bone affairssuch as we saw at Locked Harbour."
"Our provisions are nearly gone too," added White. "In fact we've onlyenough for one more day."
"Oh, well! A lot of things can happen in a day, and some of them mayhappen to us."
But the only thing worthy of note that happened on the following daywas a storm of such violence as to compel even stout-hearted Cabot toremain behind the sheltering walls of the hut, and, while it raged, ourshivering lads, crouched above a tiny blaze of sled wood, ate theirlast morsel of food. They still had a small quantity of tea, but thatwas all. As soon, therefore, as the storm abated Cabot sallied forthwith his gun, still hopeful, in spite of many disappointments, offinding some bird or beast that, by a lucky shot, might be brought tothe table.
The ice pack was of such vast extent that it seemed as though it mustsupport animal life of some kind, but Cabot traversed it that day formany miles without finding so much as a track or a feather. Thatnight's supper was a pot of tea, and a similar one formed the solenourishment upon which Cabot again set forth the next morning foranother of those weary hunts.
This time he went further from the hut than he had dared go on previousexpeditions; but on them he had been hopeful and knew that even thoughhe failed in his hunting he would still find food awaiting him on hisreturn. Now he was desperate with hunger, and the knowledge thatfailing in his present effort he would not have strength for another.In his mind, too, he carried a vivid picture of poor White, crouchingin that wretched hut over an expiring blaze fed by the very last oftheir wood.
"I simply can't go back empty-handed!" he cried aloud. "It would bebetter not to go back at all, and let him hope for my coming to thelast."
So the young hunter pushed wearily and hopelessly on, until he foundhimself at the foot of a line of icebergs that had been frozen into thepack, where they resembled a range of fantastically shaped hills.Cabot had seen them from a distance on a previous expedition, and hadwondered what lay beyond. Now he determined to find out, though heknew if he once crossed them there would be little chance of regainingthe hut before dark. It was a laborious climb, and several times heslid back to the place of starting, but each mishap of this kind onlymade him the more determined to gain the top. At length, breathlessand bruised, crawling on hands and knees, he reached a point from whichhe could look beyond the barrier. As he did so, he turned sick anduttered a choking cry.
He reached a point from which he could look beyond thebarrier.]
What he saw in that first glance was so utterly incredible that itcould not be true, though if it were it would be the most welcome andbeautiful sight in all the world. Yet it was only a ship! Just oneship and a lot of men! The ship was not even a handsome one, beingmerely a three-masted steam sealer, greasy and smeared in every partwith coal soot from her tall smoke stack. She lay a mile or so away,but well within the pack, through the outer edge of which she hadforced a passage. The men, evidently her crew, who were on the icenear the foot of Cabot's ridge, were a disreputable looking lot,ragged, dirty, unkempt, and as bloody as so many butchers. And that isexactly what they were--butchers engaged in their legitimate businessof killing the seals that, coming up from the south to meet thedrifting ice pack, had crawled out on it by thousands to rear theiryoung.
This was all that Cabot saw; yet the sight so affected him that helaughed and sobbed for joy. Then he stood up, and, with glad tearsblinding his eyes, tried to shout to the men beneath him, but couldonly utter hoarse whispers; for, in his overpowering happiness, he hadalmost lost the power of speech. As he could not call to them he beganto wave his arms to attract their attention, and then, all at once, hewas nearly paralysed by a hail from close at hand of:
"Hello there, ye bloomin' idjit! Wot's hup?"
Whirling around, Cabot saw, standing only a few rods away, a man whohad evidently just climbed the opposite side of the ridge. Herecognised him in an instant, as he must have done had he met him inthe most crowded street of a great city, so distinctively peculiar washis figure.
"David! David Gidge!" he gasped, recovering his voice for the effort,and in another moment, flinging his arms about the astonished mariner'sneck, he was pouring out a flood of incoherent words.
"Wal, I'll be jiggered!" remarked Mr. Gidge, as he disengaged himselffrom Cabot's impulsive embrace and stepped back for a morecomprehensive view. "Your voice sounds familiar, Mister, but I can'tsay as I ever seen you before. I took ye fust off fer a b'ar, and thenfer a Huskie. When I seen you was white, I 'lowed ye might be one ofthe 'Marmaid's' crew, seeing as she was heading fer the pack 'bout thetime we struck it. Now, though, as I say, I'm jiggered ef I knowexectly who ye be."
"Why, Mr. Gidge, I'm Cabot Grant, who----"
"Of course. To be sartin! Now I know ye!" interrupted the other."But where's White? What hev ye done with Whiteway Baldwin?"
"He's back there on the ice helpless with a crippled leg, freezing andstarving to death; but if you'll come at once I'll show you the way,and we may still be in time to save him."
With instant comprehension of the necessity for prompt action, Mr.Gidge, who, as Cabot afterwards learned, was first mate of the sealer"Labrador," turned and shouted in stentorian tones to the men who wereworking below:
"Knock off, all hands, and follow me. Form a line and keep hailingdistance apart, so's we'll find our way back after dark. There's whitemen starving on the ice. One of ye go to the ship and report. Movelively! Now, lad, I'm ready."
Two hours later Cabot and David Gidge, with, a long line of menstreaming out behind them, reached the little hut. There was no answerto the cheery shouts with which they approached it, and, as theycrawled through its low entrance, they were filled with anxiousmisgivings. What if they were too late after all? No spark of firelighted the gloom or took from the deadly chill of the interior, and novoice bade them welcome. But, as David Gidge struck a match, a lowmoaning sounded from one side, and told them that White was at leastalive.
It took but a minute to remove him from the hut, together with the fewthings worth taking away that it contained. Then it was left without ashadow of regret, and the march to the distant ship was begun. Fourmen carried White, who seemed to have sunk into a stupor, while twomore supported Cabot, who had become suddenly weak and so weary that hebegged to be allowed to sleep where he was.
"It's been a close call for both of 'em," said David Gidge, "and now,men, we've got to make the quickest kind of time getting 'em back tothe ship."
Fortunately there were plenty of willing hands to which the burdensmight be shifted, for the "Labrador" carried a crew two hundred strong,and, as the little party moved swiftly from one shouting man toanother, it constantly gained accessions.
At length the sealer was reached, and the rescued lads were taken toher cabin, where the ship's doctor, having made every possiblepreparation for their reception, awaited them. They were given hotdrinks, rubbed, fed, and placed between warm blankets, where poor,weary Cabot was at last allowed to fall asleep without furtherinterruption.
The animal sought by the sealers of Newfoundland amid the furiousstorms and crashing floes of the great ice pack is not the fur-bearingseal of Alaska, but a variety of the much less important hair seal,which may be seen almost anywhere along the Atlantic coast. From itsskin seal leather is made, but it is chiefly valuable for the oilyielded by the layer of fat lying directly beneath the skin andenveloping the entire body. These seals would hardly be worth huntingunless they could be captured easily and in quantities; but, on theirnative ice in early spring
, the young seals are found in primecondition and in vast numbers. Each helpless victim is killed by ablow on the head, "sculped" or stripped of his pelt, and the flayedbody is left lying in a pool of its own blood.
The crew of a single vessel will thus destroy thousands of seals in aday, and in some prosperous years the total kill of seals has passedthe half million mark. Now only about a dozen steamers are engaged inthe business, but by them from 200,000 to 300,000 seals are destroyedeach spring. The movements of sealing vessels are governed by rigidlyenforced laws that forbid them to leave port before the 12th of March,to kill a seal before the 14th of the same month, or after the 20th ofApril, and prohibit any steamer from making more than one trip duringthis short open season. The crews are paid in shares of the catch, andmen are never difficult to obtain for the work, as the sealing seasoncomes when there is nothing else to be done.
As March was not yet ended when our lads were received aboard the"Labrador," and as she would not return to port until the last minuteof the open season had expired, they had before them nearly a month inwhich to recover their exhausted energies and learn the business ofsealing. White had suffered so severely, and reached such a precariouscondition, that he required every day of the allotted time forrecuperation, and even at its end his strength was by no means fullyrestored. Cabot, on the other hand, woke after a thirty-six-hour nap,ravenously hungry, and as fit as ever for anything that might offer.After that, although he could never bring himself to assist in clubbingbaby seals to death, he took an active part in the other work of theship, thereby fully repaying the cost of the food eaten by himself andWhite.
Of course, with their very first opportunity, both lads eagerly pliedDavid Gidge with questions concerning the welfare of the Baldwin familyand everything that had happened during their long absence. Thus theylearned to their dismay that another suit had been brought against theBaldwin estate that threatened to swallow what little property had beenleft, and that White, having been convicted of contempt of court forcontinuing the lobster factory after an adverse decision had beenrendered, was now liable to a fine of one thousand dollars, orimprisonment, as soon as he landed.
"But what has become of my mother and sister?" asked White.
"They are in Harbour Grace," answered David Gidge, "stopping with somekin of mine. You see, all three of us was brung to St. Johns aswitnesses, and there wasn't money enough to take us back till I couldcome sealing and make some."
"You are a trump, David Gidge!" exclaimed Cabot, while White gratefullysqueezed the honest fellow's hand.
"I promised to look arter 'em till you come back," said the sailorman,simply.
At length the sealing season closed, and the prow of the "Labrador" wasturned homeward, but even now, after many an anxious discussion, ourlads were undecided as to what they should do upon landing. But asolution of the problem came to Cabot on the day that the steamerentered Conception Bay and anchored close off Bell Island, to await themoving of a great ice mass that had drifted into the harbour.
"I know what we'll do!" he cried.