CHAPTER IV.
THE GRAND FLIGHT.--A GOOD STRATAGEM.--THE PACKET LIGHT.
At sunrise the next morning, the sportsmen hurried through their frugalmeal, and hastened to their various "ice-houses;" for a great change hadtaken place in the weather, which, although the rain had ceased and thesky had cleared somewhat, was still mild and spring-like. Even as theylit their cigars at the door, they heard far up the cove the calls ofthe wild geese, and a scattering volley which told that the Indians hadbeen early at their posts. Above the others arose two heavy reports,which Davies declared could come from no other gun than Peter'snewly-acquired double-barrel.
With hastened steps the East Bar party took the ice, La Salle drawingbehind him a long "taboggin," or Indian sled, consisting merely of along, wide, half-inch board, turned up at one end, and forming, in fact,a single broad runner, which cannot upset, and will bear a heavy loadover the lightest snow without sinking too deeply. On it were placed,besides his own gun and that of Kennedy, a heavy target rifle, a largelunch-box, and an ample bucket containing ammunition.
"You mean to 'lay them out' to-day, I guess, Charley," said Creamer,good-humoredly. "You ain't apt to want ammunition, any way."
"What will you take for to-day's bag, cash down?" asked Ben, laughing.
"Here are our decoys," said La Salle, pointing to several dark objectspartially imbedded in the ice, but marking an almost perfect straightline from the boat to the inner shore of the island.
"We had a rather narrow escape," remarked Kennedy, picking up one of thedecoys; "and it was well thought of to secure a retreat to our boat, incase we had failed to reach the shore."
Little time, however, was lost in conversation. The "boat" and "box"were to be cleared of the snow which had drifted inside, and concealedby fragments of ice, in place of those which the rain had melted away.The decoys were to be rearranged, heading to windward, and at least halfan hour was consumed in making these necessary arrangements. At last allwas ready, the guns, ammunition, &c., were placed in the boat, and LaSalle had gone to hide the sledge behind a neighboring hummock, when,turning his head, he saw Davies and Creamer running hastily to theirbox, and Kennedy frantically gesticulating and calling on him to do thesame.
With the best speed he could make on such slippery footing, La Sallecrossed the intervening space, and threw himself down into the boat,panting and breathless with exertion. After a moment's breathing space,he slowly raised his head so that his eyes could just see over the edgeof the shooting-boat. To the east he heard the decoy-calls of Creamerand Davies, and, somewhere between himself and them, the low,questioning calls of the wished-for geese.
"They are near us somewhere, Kennedy," he whispered, "and, I guess,coming in to our decoys. Don't fire until I tell you. Here they come.No, they sheer off. Yes, there's one scaling down; there's another.They're all coming. We've got them now."
The goose is far from being the silly fowl which popular belief supposeshim to be, even when tamed and subdued, and, in a state of nature, isone of the most wary of birds. The flock in question, flying in from thenarrow, open channels of the Gulf, had seen the decoys, and heard thecalls of Ben and Creamer, who had not yet completed their preparations.Swooping around the box at a safe distance, the wary leader decided thatall was not right there, and swung over the leading decoys of La Salle,and doubtless wondering at the apathy of the strange geese which refusedto answer his calls, gave a signal which caused his flock to describe acircle around the boat, full forty rods away. Still nothing could beseen which could warrant a well-founded suspicion; and one or two of theyounger birds, impatient of restraint, and anxious for rest and food,set their broad pinions, and, with outstretched wings, scaled down tothe decoys, alighting on the ice not twenty feet from the muzzles of theconcealed guns. Their apparent safety decided the rest, and in twentyseconds as many geese, with clamorous cries, were hovering over theheads of La Salle and his companions.
It takes a quick eye, steady hand, and good judgment, to kill apartridge in November, when, with a rush of wings like an embryowhirlwind, he gets up under your feet, and brushes the dew from theunderbrush with his whizzing wings. It is not every amateur that cankill woodcock in close cover, or well-grown snipe on a windy day; butthere are few, who can do these things, who can kill with both barrelsin their first goose-shooting. The size and number of the birds, thewary and cautious manner of their approach, the nice modulationsnecessary to "call" them successfully, and the reckless sweep with whichthey seem to throw aside all fear, and rush into the very jaws ofdeath,--all these combine to unsettle the nerves and aim of the novice.
All this Kennedy experienced, as he saw above him twenty outstretchednecks, with jetty heads, whose eyes he felt _must_ discern the ambush;twenty snowy bellies, against which as many pairs of black, broad,webbed feet showed with beautiful effect, and forty broad pinions, whichseemed to shut out the sky from view, and present a mark which no onecould fail to hit. At the word he pointed his heavy gun at the centre ofthe thickest part of the flock and fired. At the first barrel a deadbird fell almost into the boat; but the second seemed without effect. LaSalle "lined" four as they flapped their huge wings hurriedly, strivingto flee from the hidden danger, killing three and breaking the wing of afourth, who fluttered down to the ice, and began to run, or, rather, towaddle rapidly away.
Kennedy seemed about to go after the wounded bird, but La Salle laid hishand on his arm.
"Don't move, Kennedy, and he will get us another bird," said he,reloading his heavy gun with a long-range shot cartridge. "We can getthat bird any time; and there is his mate flying round and round in acircle."
"You won't get a shot at her," said Kennedy, as she warily kept out ofordinary range, and finally alighted near the gander, which, weak withpain and loss of blood, had lain down on the ice about one hundred andfifty yards distant.
"I should not despair of killing her with 'the Baby,' charged as she nowis, even at a far greater distance; but I have a surer weapon for such amark in this target-rifle."
As he spoke, he drew from under the half-deck of the boat a heavysporting-rifle, carrying about sixty balls to the pound, and sightedwith "globe" or "peep" sights. Taking a polished gauge which hung at hiswatch-chain, he set the rear sight, and, cocking the piece, set thehair-trigger. Noiselessly raising the muzzle above the gunwale, he ranhis eye along the sights. A whip-like crack echoed across the ice, andthe goose, pierced through the lower part of the neck, fell dead by theside of her wounded mate, which, frightened by the report, hastened toincrease the distance between him and such a dangerous neighborhood.
"I'll save you a half-mile run, Kennedy," said La Salle, raising "theBaby" to his face.
The wounded bird suddenly paused, drew himself up to his full height,and spread his wings, or rather his uninjured pinion. The huge gunroared. The closely-packed _mitraille_ tore the icy crust into powder,fifty yards beyond the doomed bird, which settled, throbbing with amortal tremor, upon the ice, shot through the head.
"That was a splendid shot of yours, La Salle," said Kennedy, inamazement.
"You are wrong in that statement, Kennedy," replied he. "The shot anyone could have made, but the reach of that gun, with Eley's cartridge,is something tremendous. When I first had her I fired at a flock atabout four hundred yards distance. Of course I killed none, but I pacedthree hundred and twenty-five yards, and found clean-cut scores, fourand five inches long, in the crust, at that distance; and I have morethan once killed brant geese out of a flock at forty rods."
"Look, Charley! What a sight!" interrupted Kennedy. The sky had cleared,the sun shone brightly, the wind had gone down, and the strangestillness of a calm winter's day was unbroken. From the west high abovethe reach of the heaviest gun, and almost beyond the carry of the rifle,came the long-expected vanguard of the migrating hosts of heaven. Flockupon flock, each in the wedge-shaped phalanx of two converging lines,which ever characterize the flight of these birds, each headed by awary, powerful leader, whose clarion call cam
e shrill and clear downthrough the still ether, came in one common line of flight, hundreds andthousands of geese. All that afternoon their passage was incessant, butno open pool offered rest and food to that weary host, and in that fine,still atmosphere it was useless to attempt to deceive by crudeimitations of the calls of these birds. And so, as the leaders of themigratory host saw from their lofty altitude the earth below, for many aleague, spread out like a map, from which to choose a halting-place, themarksmen of the icy levels had little but the interest of the unusualspectacle for their afternoon's watching. Now and then, in answer totheir repeated calls, a single goose would detach itself from the flockand scale down through the air, as if to alight, but nearly always wouldrepent in time, and with quickened pinions return to its companions.Still, occasionally, one would determine to alight, and setting itswings, circle around one of the stands, and finally be seen, by theoccupants of other ice-houses, to sweep close in to the concealedambush. Then would follow a puff or two of smoke, a few distant reports,and the dead bird, held up in triumph, would convey to his distantfriends the sportsman's fortune.
Several birds fell in this way to the lot of our friends of the EastBar, and La Salle and Kennedy got one each; but the sport was tootedious, and La Salle, taking a bullet-bag and powder-flask from hisbox, proceeded to count out ten bullets, which he laid carefully beforehim.
"I am going to try to bring down at least one goose from those flockswhich pass over us nearly every moment. They are certainly four hundredyards high, and I shall aim at the leader of the flock in every case,giving him about ten feet allowance for headway."
The first ball was without effect, although the leader swerved like afrightened steed as the deadly missile sung past him. The second cut afeather from the tail of the bird aimed at; and the third failedlikewise. At the fourth shot the leader swerved as before, and then kepton his way.
"You might as well try to kill them a mile off, as at that distance,"said Kennedy, disparagingly.
"I hit a bird in that flock, and I think the leader, at that; for Iheard the rap of the ball as it struck. It may have been only throughhis quill-feathers. No; there's the bird I hit. See, he can't keep upwith the flock."
The huge gander last fired at had hardly gone a hundred yards, ere,despite his endeavors, he had lowered several feet below the flock. Inthe next decade, the distance was increased to sixty feet, and in thethird to as many yards. In the last hundred yards of his flight he sankrapidly, although struggling nobly to regain the flock; and when aboutfifty yards above the ice, he towered up a few feet into the air, andfell over backward, stone dead, with a rifle-shot transfixing his body,in the region of the heart. On weighing him he turned the scale atfifteen pounds.
Of the remaining six shots but one was effective--breaking the wing-tipof a young female, which was secured for a live decoy.
Kennedy now proposed a plan for approaching a large flock, which hadalighted about a half mile distant on the sea-ice. Taking the taboggin,which was painted white, from its concealment, he tied to its curvedfront a thin slab of snowy ice, and laying his gun behind it, approachedthe flock as near as possible, under cover of the hummocks. About threehundred yards of level ice still intervened, and lying down behind hissnow-screen, he slowly moved his ingenious stalking-horse towards theflock. Had he understood the nature of the birds thoroughly, it isprobable that his device would have succeeded splendidly; but when hewas still about a hundred yards distant, the wary leader becamesuspicious, and gave a note of alarm. In an instant the whole flock,with outstretched necks, stood prepared for flight. Had he lain still,it is probable that the birds would have relaxed their suspiciouswatchfulness, and allowed him to get nearer; but thinking that he shouldlose all if he tried a nearer approach, he fired, killing one andwounding another, both of which were secured.
Just before dark a slight wind sprang up, and a few flocks, flying lowabout the harbor, came in among the decoys, and for a time the fire wasquite heavy, and the sport most exciting. Taken all round, this day wasthe best of the season. Ben and Creamer received fifteen, La Salle andKennedy twelve, and Davies and Risk eighteen birds--in all, forty-fivegeese. On arriving home they found a hearty supper awaiting theirattention, after a due observance had been paid to the rites of thetoilet. This observance seemed to demand much more time than everbefore, to the great amusement of Lund, who had anticipated as much allday.
"Are all you folks going sparkin', that you are so careful of yourcomplexions? Goodness! why, you've more pomatums, oils, and soaps thanany court beauty!"
There was some truth in this latter charge, for Ben and Creamer, afterwashing and a very gingerly use of the towel, anointed their flamingvisages with almond oil. Kennedy, in his turn, approached the onlymirror the house afforded, and applied to his blistered nose andexcoriated cheeks the major part of a box of Holloway's Ointment; andeven La Salle's dark face seemed to have acquired its share of burningfrom the ice-reflected rays of the sun. Davies and Risk, when called tosupper, smelled strongly of rose-scented cold-cream; and Lund wasunsparing in sarcastic remarks on the extreme floridness of complexionof the entire party.
"Ben, don't have any powder lying round loose to-morrow, with such aface as that. As for Creamer, he can't have any cotton sheets to-night,for fear of a conflagration. I don't think I ever saw anybody burn asbad as Kennedy has; and this is only the first day, too. A few days morelike this would peel him down to an 'atomy. As to La Salle, he's tooblack to take any more color, but Risk and Davies won't dare to go homefor a good two weeks at least."
In truth, the whole party had received a notable tanning, for thewinter's sun, weak as it is compared with its summer fervor, has neversuch an effect upon the exposed skin, as when its rays are reflectedfrom the millions of tiny specula of the glistening ice-field. The freeuse of soothing and cooling ointments will prevent the blistering andtan, to a great extent; but many on their "first hunt" lose the cuticlefrom the entire face; and many a seal has been lost on the floes, owingto the rapid decomposition produced by the sun's feeble rays thusintensified.
Notwithstanding their "tanning", however, the party were in splendidspirits, and ate their roast goose, potatoes, and hot bread with a gustowhich far more delicate viands at home would fail to provoke. As themeal proceeded, and the merry jest went round, all feelings of fatigue,pain, and discomfort were lost in the revulsion of comfort which a fullmeal produces in a man of thoroughly healthy physique. How few of us inthe crowded cities know, or indeed can appreciate, the pleasures of thehardy sportsman. To bear wet, cold, and discomfort; to exercisepatience, skill, and endurance; and to undergo the extreme point offatigue, was the sum of nearly every day's experience of the members ofthe party; but when their heavy guns and cumbrous clothing were laidaside, the rough chair and cushionless settle afforded luxurious rest,the craving appetite made their coarse fare a delightsome feast, andwhen, warm, full-fed, and refreshed, they invoked the dreamy solace ofthe deity Nicotiana, the sense of animal pleasure and satisfaction wascomplete.
"Is your pipe filled, Creamer?" asked Lund, carelessly.
"Yes; but you'll not get it until you give us the story you're to tellus this night. Faith, there's not one of us can beat you at the sametrade, and it's little of fact that you'll give us, any how."
"For shame, Hughie, to malign the credibility of an old friend in thatway, and me the father of a family. I'm almost ready to swear that youshan't have a yarn from me for the whole spring. To accuse me ofyarning--me that--"
"That humbugged the whole Associated Press of the United States nolonger ago than the war with the southerns. I mind myself how you toldthem at Shediac, that the Alabama was down among the fishermen in thebay, like a hawk among a flock of pigeons. Faith, you had twenty of themtaken and burned before you stopped that time, and the telegraphoperator at Point de Chene was hopping all the evening between the boatand the office, like a pea in a hot skillet," retorted La Salle,laughing. "Ah, Lund! you mustn't plead innocent with us, who have beenhumbugged by
you too many times already. But come, captain, draw on yourimagination, and give us a regular stunner--one without a word of truthin it."
"Well, gentlemen," answered Lund, deliberately, "I ain't got anything tosay to that young jackanapes, for nobody _that_ ever heard _him_ tellstories will ever believe anything he says again. But I mean to have myrevenge somehow, and so I'll tell you a story that is as true asgospel, and yet you'll hardly believe a word of it. We who live here onthis little island call it the story of
"THE PACKET LIGHT.
"About thirty years ago, my wife's father, old Mr. Bridges, lived in asnug little log house down in the next field, towards the Point. He wasa young man then, and my wife here was a little girl, unable to do morethan to drive home the cows, or help mind the younger children. Theisland is uncivilized enough now, sir, but in those days, besides theold French military road to St. Peter's, and a government mail route toSt. Eleanor's, there was nothing but bridle-paths and rough trailsthrough the woods. Men came to market with horses in straw harnesses,dragging carts with block-wheels sawn from the butt of a big pine; andoften when twenty or thirty of them were drinking into old KattyFrazer's, the beasts would get hungry, and eat each other loose.
"It was next to an impossibility to get any money in exchange forproduce or labor, and everything was paid for in orders on the differentdealers for so many shillings' or pounds' worth of goods. In winter awhale-boat on runners carried the mail between the Wood Islands andPictou, and in summer a small schooner, called the Packet, sailed withthe mail, and what few passengers presented themselves, between thecapital and the same port.
"It was in the last of November that year that the Packet made her lastcruise. The weather was freezing cold, with a thick sky, and heavysqualls from the south of west, when she struck on the East Bar, nearthe main channel. They put down the helm, thinking to slide off; but sheonly swung broadside to the waves, and as the tide was at ebb, she wassoon hard and fast, with the sea making a clean breach over her.
"Captain Coffin, with the four other men, got into the rigging with aflag of some kind, which they fastened at half mast, as a signal ofdistress. It was about midday when they ran on the bar, and Bridges sawthem, and realized their danger at once; and their cries for help attimes rose above the roar of the ravenous seas. With the help of hiswife he launched a light boat, but long before he got into the sweep ofthe heavier breakers, he saw that she could never live on the bar, andit was with great difficulty that he regained the shore. At nightfall,although the hull was badly shattered, no one had perished, and the tidehad so far abated that the party could easily have waded ashore; andCaptain Coffin and another man, after vainly attempting to induce theother three to accompany them, started themselves.
"The others charged them with cowardice in leaving the vessel, said thatthe wind would go down, and they could get the craft off at flood-tide,and so prevailed over the better judgment of the captain and hiscompanion that they returned to the fated vessel, and prepared, as wellas possible, for the returning tide.
"As the tide rose, the sea came with little, if any, diminution of fury;and until nearly midnight Bridges watched the signal lantern, whichcalled in vain for the aid which it was not in the power of man tobestow. Intense cold was added to the other horrors of their situation,and the heavy seas came each hour in lessened fury, as the waterthickened into 'sludge.' At eleven o'clock the tide was at its height;the seas had ceased to sweep across the hogged and sunken hull, and asheet of thin ice reached from the shore to the vessel's side. CaptainCoffin tried the ice, and, finding that it would bear his weight,decided to try to reach the Blockhouse Light, which shone brightly threemiles away.
"He summoned the others; but two of the others, who had persuaded him toremain on board, were already frozen to death; the third decided to makethe attempt, but walked feebly and with uncertain steps, and about amile from the vessel succumbed to the piercing cold, falling into thatfatal sleep from which few ever waken, in this life at least. Coffin'scompanion, a strong, hardy sailor, reached the light-house alive, butswooned away, and could not be resuscitated; and Coffin barely escapedwith his life. He was terribly frost-bitten, but was thawed out in apuncheon of cold water, the right foot, however, dropping off at theankle; but he escaped with life, after terrible suffering.
"The schooner sank, in the spring, at the edge of the channel, when themoving ice forced her into deeper water; and at very low tides herbattered hull may still be seen by the passing boatman. But ever sincethat fatal night, whenever a storm from that quarter is threatened, aball of fire is seen to emerge from the depths where lies the fatedpacket, and to sway and swing above the water, as the signal lantern didon the swaying mast of that doomed vessel. Then, if you but watchpatiently, the ball is seen to expand into a sheet of crimson light,terribly and weirdly beautiful, until the eye can discern the shadowyoutline of a ship, or rather schooner, of fire, with hull and masts,stays and sails; and then the apparition again assumes the shape of aball, which is lost in the sea.
"At times it appears twice or thrice in the same night, and often theherring-fisher, after setting his nets along the bar, sees behind hisboat, as he nears the shore, the apparition of the 'packet light.' Sincethat night of wreck and death, no dweller on this island has passed ayear without seeing it, and it is so common that its appearance awakensno fear; and among the fishers of Point Prime, and the farmers of theopposite shores, there are few who will not bear witness to the truth ofmy story."
* * * * *
"It is a little singular," said Risk, "that a ship is the onlyinanimate object ever seen as an individual apparition. There are notmany of these ghostly ships on the seas, however. I do not remember tohave heard of more than one--that of the celebrated 'Flying Dutchman,'off the Cape of Good Hope."
"It's no wonder, sir," said Lund, warmly, "that sailors suppose ships tobe haunted, and also to be capable of becoming ghosts themselves, whenyou sit down and think how differently every one views a vessel, ascompared with a house, or store, or engine. Why, there are no two shipsalike, and two were never built just alike. There are lucky and unluckyships, and ships that almost steer themselves, while others need a wholewatch at the tiller in a dead calm. But I think that you are mistaken asto the 'Flying Dutchman' being the only other 'flyer,' as the sailorscall them, for they are often seen in the Pacific, in the 'Trades.'"
"I can't swear to the truth of Mr. Lund's story, but I can affirm thatthe 'fire ship' is a myth, universally recognized among the sea-goingpopulation of our coast, from the Florida Keys to the mouth of the St.Lawrence. Off the coral reefs, the crime-accursed slaver or piratehaunts the scene of her terrible deeds. Amid the breakers of BlockIsland, the ship wrecked, a generation ago, by the cruel avarice of menlong since dead, still revisits the fatal spot when the storm is againon the eve of breaking forth in resistless fury. The waters of Bostonharbor, two centuries ago, presented to the wondering eyes of 'diverssober and godly' persons, apparitions similar to those narrated by ourveracious friend, the captain. The lumberers of the St. John tell, withbated breath, of an antique French caravel, which sails up the CarletonFalls, where no mortal vessel or steamer can follow. And the farmers andfishermen of Chester Bay still see the weird, unearthly beacon whichmarks the spot where the privateer Teaser, chased by an overwhelmingEnglish fleet, was hurled heavenward by the desperate act of one of herofficers, who had broken his parole. As for the Gulf, the myth exists ina half dozen diverse forms, and all equally well authenticated byhundreds of eye-witnesses, if you can believe the narrators."
"Well, La Salle, I see you don't put much more faith in my story than inthe thing I saw the night you came here. Now, I hope it won't be so, forit is borne in my mind, and I can't get over it, that I shall see someof you vanish into mist, as I saw those men. So, gentlemen, be verycareful, for I fear that some of us are very near their fate."
* * * * *
There is a cord of fear in every man's hea
rt which throbs more or lessresponsively to the relation of the wonders of that "debatable land,"which, by some, is believed to lie "on the boundaries of another world."La Salle felt impressed in spite of himself, and the whole party seemedgrave and unwilling to pursue the subject. The silence was, however,broken by Kennedy.
"I am going home to-morrow," said he, "and therefore am not likely to beone of the unfortunates over whom a mysterious but melancholy fateimpends. I have never found in the Tribune anything calculated toencourage a belief in ghosts of men, or vessels either; and what HoraceGreeley can't swallow I can't. But I shall make minutes of this littlematter, and if anything does happen, will forward a full account, indetail, to that truly great man. Come, La Salle; it's time we were abed.Good night, gentlemen."
Adrift in the Ice-Fields Page 6