CHAPTER I.
OUR COMPANY.
Five hundred miles away to the north and east lies the snug littleIsland of St. Jean; a beautiful land in summer, with its red cliffs ofred sandstone and ruddy clay, surmounted by green fields, which stretchaway inland to small areas of the primeval forest, which once extendedunbroken from the shores of the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the waters ofthe Straits of Northumberland.
Drear and desolate is it in winter, when the straits are filled withice, which, in the shape of floe, and berg, and pinnacle, pass inghostly procession to and fro, as the wind wafts them, or they feel thediurnal impetus of the tides they cover, to escape in time from thenarrow limits of the pass, and lose themselves in the vast ice-barrierthat for five long months shuts out the havens of St. Jean from the opensea.
No ship can enter the deserted ports, over whose icy covering thefarmer carries home his year's firing, and the young gallant presses hishorse to his greatest speed to beat a rival team, or carry his faircompanion to some scene of festivity twenty miles away. Many spend thewhole winter in idleness; and to all engaged in aught but professionalduties, the time hangs heavily for want of enjoyable out-of-dooremployment. It is, therefore, a season of rejoicing to the cooped-upsportsman when the middle of March arrives, attended, as is usually thecase, by the first lasting thaws, and the advent of a few flocks of wildgeese.
Among the wealthier sportsmen great preparations are made for a springcampaign, which often lasts six or eight weeks. Decoys of wood,sheet-iron, and canvas, boats for decoy-shooting and stealthy approach,warm clothes, caps, and mittens of spotless white, powder by the keg,caps and wads by the thousand, and shot by the bag, boots and moccasonswater and frost proof, and a vast variety of small stores for the innerman, are among the necessaries provided, sometimes weeks in advance ofthe coming of the few scattering flocks which form, as it were, theskirmish line of the migrating hosts of the Canada goose.
It is usual for a small party to board with some farmer, as near aspossible to the shooting grounds, or rather ice, for not infrequentlythe strong-winged foragers, who press so closely on the rearguard of theretreating frost king, find nothing in the shape of open water; butafter leaving their comrades, dead and dying, amid the fatal decoys onthe frozen channels, sweep hastily southward before cold, fatigue,hunger, and the wiles and weapons of man, can finish the deadly work sothoroughly begun.
Such a party of six, in the spring of 186-, took up their quarters withCaptain Lund, a pilot, who held the larger portion of the arable land ofthe little Island of St. Pierre, which lies three miles south of themouth of the harbor of C., and ends in two long and dangerous shoals,known as the East and West Bars.
The party was composed of Messrs. Risk, Davies (younger and older),Kennedy, Creamer, and La Salle. Mr. Henry Risk was an English gentleman,of about fifty-five years of age, handsome, portly, and genial, a keensportsman, and sure shot with the long, single, English ducking-gun, towhich he stuck, despite of the jeers and remonstrances of the owners ofmuzzle and breech-loading double barrels.
Davies the elder, an old friend of the foregoing, had for many yearsbeen accustomed to leave his store and landed property to the care ofhis partners and family, while, in company with Risk, he found in thehalf-savage life and keen air of the ice-fields a bracing tonic, whichprepared them for the enervating cares of the rest of the year. The twohad little in common--Risk being a stanch Episcopalian, and Davies anuncompromising Methodist. Risk, rather conservative, and his comrade aready liberal; but they both possessed the too rare quality of respectfor the opinions of others, and their occasional disputations neverdegenerated into quarrels.
Ben Davies, a nephew of the foregoing, and also a merchant, was anathletic young fellow, of about five feet eight, just entering upon histwenty-second year. A proficient in all manly exercises, and a keensportsman, he entered into this new sport with all the enthusiasm ofyouth, and his preparations for the spring campaign were on the mostliberal scale of design and expenditure. In these matters he reliedchiefly on the skill, experience, and judgment of his right-hand man andshooting companion, Hughie Creamer.
Hughie was of Irish descent, and middle size, but compact, lithe, andmuscular, with a not unkindly face, which, however, showed but tooplainly the marks of habitual dissipation. A rigger by occupation, asailor and pilot at need, a skilful fisherman, and ready shot, with aroving experience, which had given him a smattering of half a score ofthe more common handicrafts, Hughie was an invaluable comrade on such aquest, and as such had been hired by his young employer. It may beadded, that a more plausible liar never mixed the really interestingfacts of a changeable life with well-disguised fiction; and it may bedoubted if he always knew himself which part of some of his favorite"yarns" were truths, and which were due, as a phrenologist would say,"to language and imaginativeness large, insufficiently balanced byconscientiousness."
Kennedy was a wiry little New Brunswicker, born just across the St.Croix, but a thorough-going Yankee by education, business habits, andnaturalization. "A Brahmin among the Brahmins," he believed in the NewYork Tribune, as the purest source of all uninspired wisdom; andbitterly regretted that the manifold avocations of Horace Greeley hadthus far prevented that truly great man from enlightening hisfellow-countrymen on the habits and proper modes of capture of the_Anser Canadiensis_. As, despite his attenuated and dry appearance,there was a deal of real humor in his composition, Kennedy wasconsidered quite an addition to our little party.
La Salle was--Well, reader, you must judge for yourself of what he was,by the succeeding chapters of this simple history, for he it is whorecalls from the past these faint pen-pictures of scenes and pleasuresnever to be forgotten, although years have passed since theiroccurrence, and the grave has already claimed two of the six,--Risk, therobust English gentlemen, and Hughie, the cheery, ingenious adventurer.It is not easy to draw a fair picture of one's self, even with the aidof a mirror, and when one can readily note the ravages of time inthinning locks and increasing wrinkles, it is hard to speak of therobust health of youth without exaggeration. At that time, however, hewas about twenty-three, having dark hair and eyes, a medium stature,and splendid health. Like Hughie, in a humbler sphere, he was a dabblerin many things,--lawyer, novelist, poet, trader, inventor, whatnot?--taking life easily, with no grand aspirations, and no disturbingfears for the future. In the intervals of business he found a keendelight in the half-savage life and wholly natural joys of the anglerand sportsman, and ever felt that to wander by river and mere, with rodand gun, would enable him to draw from the breast of dear old MotherEarth that rude but joyous physical strength, with the possession ofwhich it is a constant pleasure even to exist.
It was late at night when, by the light of the winter moon, the boatsand decoys were unloaded from the heavy sleds, and placed in position onthe various bars and feeding-grounds. The ice that season was of unusualthickness, and gave promise of lasting for many weeks. As under theguidance of Black Bill, they entered the farm-yard of his master, theelder Lund, they found the rest of the family just entering the house,and joining them, attacked, with voracious appetites, a coarse but amplerepast of bacon, potatoes, coarse bread, sweet butter, and strong blacktea. After this guns were prepared, ammunition and lunch got ready forthe coming morning, for, with the earliest gleam of the rising sun, theywere to commence the first short day of watching for the northwardcoming hosts of heaven.
The exact manner in which the ingenious Mrs. Lund managed to accommodatesix sportsmen, besides her usual family of four girls, three boys, and ahired man, within the limits of a low cottage of about nine smallapartments, has always been an unsolved mystery to all except members ofthe household. To be sure, Risk and the elder Davies occupied aluxurious couch of robes and blankets in the little parlor, and a hugesettle before the kitchen stove opened its alluring recesses to Ben andhis man Friday, while one of the elder sons and Black Bill shared withKennedy and La Salle the largest of the upper rooms. In later years, thequestion of where th
e eight others slept, has attained a prominent placeamong the unsolved mysteries of life; but at that time all were tiredenough to be content with knowing that they could sleep soundly, at allevents.
Few have ever passed from port to port of the great Gulf, withoutmeeting, or at least hearing, of "Captain Tom Lund," known as the mostskilful pilot on the coast.
"Alike to him was tide or time, Moonless midnight or matin's prime."
And when his skill could not make a desired haven, or tide over athreatened danger, the mariners of the Gulf deemed the case hopelessindeed.
Every winter, however, the swift Princess lay in icy bonds, beside thedeserted wharves, and the veteran pilot went home to his farm, hislittle house with its brood of children, his shaggy horses, Highlandcows, and long-bodied sheep, and became as earnest a farmer as if he hadnever turned a vanishing furrow on the scarless bosom of the ocean.Always pleasant, anxious to oblige, careful of the safety of his guests,and with a seaman's love of the wonderful and marvellous, he played thehost to general satisfaction, and in the matter of charges set anexample of moderation such as is seldom imitated in this selfish andmercenary world.
After supper, however, on this first evening, an unwonted cloud hungover the brow of the host, which yielded not to the benign influence offour cups of tea, and eatables in proportion; withstood the sedativeconsolations of a meerschaum of the best "Navy," and scarcely gave waywhen, with the two eldest of the party, he sat down to a steaming glassof "something hot," whose "controlling spirit" was "materialized" from abottle labeled "Cabinet Brandy." After a sip or two, he hemmed twice, toattract general attention, and said, solemnly,--
"It is nonsense, of course, to warn you, gents, of danger, when the iceis so thick everywhere that you couldn't get in if you tried; but markmy words, that something out of the common is going to happen thisspring, on this here island. I went over to the Pint, just now, afteryou came into the yard, to look up one of the cows, and saw two men inwhite walking up the track, just below the bank. I thought it must besome of you coming up from the East Bar, but all of a sudden the menvanished, and I was alone; and when I came into the yard, you were allhere! Now something of the kind almost always precedes a death among us,and I shan't feel easy until your trip is safely over, and you are allwell and comfortable at home."
"Now, Lund," said the elder Davies, "you don't believe in any suchnonsense, do you?"
"Nonsense!" said Lund, quietly but gravely; "little Johnnie there, myyoungest boy, will tell you that he has often seen on the East Bar thewarning glare of the Packet Light, which often warns us of the approachof a heavy storm. It is nearly thirty years since it first glowed fromthe cabin windows of the doomed mail packet, but to all who dwell uponthis island its existence is beyond doubt. Few who have sailed the Gulfas I have, but have seen the Fireship which haunts these waters, andmore than once I have steered to avoid an approaching light, and afterchanging my course nearly eight pints, found the spectre light stilldead ahead. No, gentlemen, I shan't slight the warning. If you valuelife, be careful; for if we get through the breaking up of the icewithout losing two men, I shall miss my guess."
"Come, Tom," said Risk, quickly, "don't depress the spirits of theyoungsters with such old-world superstitions. As you say, they couldn'tget through the ice now if they would, without cutting a hole; and whenthe ice grows weak, will be time enough for you to worry. Take anotherruffle to your night-cap, Tom, and you youngsters had better get to bed,and prepare to take to the ice at six o'clock, after a cup of hot coffeeand a lunch of sandwiches. Here's luck all round, gentlemen."
The toasts were drank by the three elderly men, and re-echoed by theyounger ones, who chose not to avail themselves of the profferedstimulant, and then all sought repose in their allotted quarters.Fifteen minutes later the house was in utter darkness and silence,through which the varied breathings of sixteen adults and children wouldhave given ample opportunities for comparison to any waking auditor, hadsuch there been; but no one kept awake, and to all intents and purposes"silence reigned supreme."
Adrift in the Ice-Fields Page 3