by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER XV
MAROONED IN AN ARCTIC BLIZZARD
That was indeed a winter of bitter cold and of almost unexampledseverity. It came suddenly, too, and with scant warning, as we shallsee, and a full fortnight in advance of the time when it should havecome.
Abel and Skipper Ed took Jimmy with them that year upon their autumnseal hunt. It was deemed wise to leave Bobby behind with Mrs. Abel,despite his protest. Though he was willing enough to remain when Mrs.Abel declared that because of her recent illness she wished some one tostay at home and assist her, for she did not feel equal to the task,unassisted, of making things snug for the winter. And of course therewas none but Bobby to stay.
And so it came about that Bobby, with many longings and regrets, thoughcheerful enough withal, stood down on the beach one frosty Septembermorning and watched Abel Zachariah and Skipper Ed and Jimmy sail awayfor the hunt, while he comforted himself with the thought that anotheryear he, too, would go.
Indeed, he had already taken part in the spring hunt, and though he gaveno hint that he had guessed what was in their minds, he knew well enoughthat the plea that he was needed at home to assist Mrs. Abel at the workwas a subterfuge of his foster parents, instigated, he had no doubt, bySkipper Ed. He was also satisfied that the real reason why he was leftat home was because they deemed him not yet strong enough, as a resultof his own recent illness, to withstand the unavoidable exposure andhardships to which the seal hunters would be subjected on the open andunprotected coast. And he had to confess to himself that he had notindeed recovered the full measure of his activity and hardihood, andthat there was reason and justice in their course.
A raw wind was blowing, but a fair wind, and in a little while the boat,bowling before the breeze with all sail set, was lost to view. Then,disconsolately, Bobby turned back to the cabin, but Mrs. Abel took goodcare that he was kept so busy that he soon forgot his disappointment inwork.
And that day he and Mrs. Abel had a jolly dinner of boiled goose, andtea, and that evening they sat a full hour beyond their bedtime whileshe recounted to him in her own quaint way the story of his coming fromthe place where mists and storms are born, and told him how he was sentby God to be their son, and how little he was, and how ill he was whenAbel first placed him in her arms, and how she had hugged him to her,and had nursed away his fever, and how glad she and Abel had always beenthat God had sent them a son.
The days passed thus until they lengthened into a week. Though Bobby wascontent enough, it was but natural that he should be a bit lonesome nowand again, and eagerly wish the fortnight gone that yet must passbefore the return of the seal hunters.
The wild geese and ducks were still in flight, coming in great flocksfrom the lakes of the vast unknown interior and from the farther north,on their way to milder southern climes. There were several marshes nearAbel's Bay where the migrating flocks tarried for a time to rest andfeed, and of mornings they would pass with a great roar of wings andloud honking from the bay to these marshes, and at night they wouldreturn.
It was Bobby's custom morning and night to lie in wait for them with hisshotgun, and he always returned to the cabin with as many birds as hecould carry. These were hung in the entrance shed of the cabin, wherethey would freeze and remain fresh and good until needed for the table.And thus he too was doing his part in providing for the long winterwhich was at hand.
The goose-hunting season was always one of great sport for Bobby, butthis year he found it lonesome enough without Jimmy's company. It wasthis loneliness, no doubt, that prompted him, one morning in thebeginning of the second week after the departure of the seal hunters, totake Abel Zachariah's old skiff and pull far down the bay in the hopethat he might kill a seal on his own account. It was a gray day, withleaden clouds hanging low. Patches of snow lay upon the ground. The bay,throbbing with a gentle swell, was somber and dark.
Bobby rowed the old skiff down the bay and past the bird islands nearwhich he and Jimmy had their adventure on the cliff, but no seals wereto be seen, and presently he turned his attention to the numerous seapigeons which were swimming here and there. The young birds were quitefull-grown now, and it was great fun shooting at them and watching themdive and rise again unharmed, though sometimes one would be just afraction of a second too slow and the shot would find it, and then itsdowny body would float upon the water, and Bobby would pick it up anddrop it into the boat and turn his attention to another, which mightescape, or might be added to Bobby's bag.
This was exciting sport--so exciting that Bobby could not bring himselfto give it up until a full two hours past noonday, and even then hewould not have done so had not a rising northeast wind created a chopwhich made shooting from the skiff so difficult and inaccurate that itlost its interest.
Then Bobby discovered that he was possessed of a great hunger, and heran the skiff ashore on a wooded point, and in a snug hollow in the leeof a knoll and surrounded by a grove of thick spruce trees, where he waswell sheltered from the keen northeast wind, he lighted a fire, pluckedand dressed one of the fifteen sea pigeons he had secured, and impalingit upon a stick proceeded to grill it for his dinner.
He was thus busily engaged when snow began to fall. Thicker and thickerit came, but Bobby was well protected and he finished his cooking andhis meal without a thought of danger or concern for his safety. And,when he had eaten, reluctant to leave his cozy fire, he tarried stillanother half hour.
"Well," said he, rising at length, "the snow's getting thick and I'dbetter be pulling back. My! I didn't know it was so late! It's gettingdusk, already, and it'll be good and dark before I get home!"
Then, to his amazement, he discovered when he emerged from hissheltered nook that the wind had risen tremendously, that the cold hadvisibly increased, and that the chop had developed into a considerablesea, and that the snow, too, driving before the wind, was blindingthick.
Bobby was not, however, alarmed, though he realized there was no timeto be lost if he would reach home before the full force of the risingblizzard was upon him, and he chided himself for his delay. But the oldskiff was a good sea boat, and Bobby was a good sea-man, and he pulledfearlessly out upon the wind-swept waters. And here the driving snowsoon swallowed up the land, but Bobby was not afraid, and pulling withall his might turned down before the storm.
For a little while all went well, and Bobby was congratulating himselfthat after all he would reach home before it became too dark to see.Then suddenly a big sea broke over his stern, and left the skiff halffilled with water. This was serious. He could not relinquish the oars tobail out the water. Another such deluge would smother him.
Then he realized that the seas had grown too big for him to weather, andhis one hope was to make a landing. He searched his mind for a sectionof the shore within his reach, sufficiently free from jagged rocks andsufficiently sheltered to offer him a safe landing, and all at once hebethought himself of the bird island where he and Jimmy had gone egging,and which he had visited many times since.
He was, fortunately, very near the island and when he heard the surfbeating upon its rocky shores he determined quickly to make an effort torun upon its lee shore. Here, he argued, he could bail the water fromthe skiff, and then could pull across to the mainland, where he couldhaul up the skiff and walk home. It would be a disagreeable tramp in thestorm, but it was his safest and his only course.
But even in the lee of the island the seas were running high and dashingupon the rocks with such force that for the instant he held off,hesitating. There was no other course, however. The half-submerged skiffwould never live to reach the mainland. With every passing minuteconditions were growing worse.
And so, watching for an opportune moment, Bobby drove for the shore. Aroller carried the skiff on its crest, dropped it with a crash upon therocks, and receded. Bobby sprang out, seized the painter, and runningforward secured it to a bowlder, that the next sea might not carry itaway.
Then, watching his opportunity, little by little and with much tuggingand effo
rt, he drew the skiff to a safe position beyond the waves, andas he did so he discovered that the water which it held ran freely outof it, and that one of its planks had been smashed, and in the bottom ofthe skiff was a great hole.
And there he was, wet to the skin, stranded upon a wind-swept, treelessisland, with a useless skiff and with never a tool--not even an ax--withwhich to make repairs. And there he was, too, without shelter, and thefirst terrible blizzard of a Labrador winter rising, in its fury andawful cold, about him. And whether or not there was any wood about thatcould be gathered with bare hands he did not know. But more importantthan wood was cover from the storm, for without protection from theblizzard Bobby was well aware he could never survive the night.