by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER XVI
A SNUG REFUGE
The weather had suddenly become intensely cold, and Bobby's wetclothing was already stiff with ice. The northeast wind, laden withArctic frost, swept the island with withering blasts, and cut to thebone.
The wind was rising, too, and there was no doubt that with darkness itwould attain the velocity of a gale, and the storm the proportions of asub-Arctic blizzard. Snow was already falling heavily, and presently itwould be driving and swirling in dense, suffocating clouds. Winter hadfallen like a thunderbolt from heaven.
But Bobby never permitted himself to worry needlessly. He was not one ofthose who with the least difficulty plunge into unnecessarydiscouragement and lose their capacity for action. It was not in hisnature to waste his time and opportunities and energies worrying aboutwhat might happen, but what in the end rarely did happen. He conservedhis mental and physical powers, and turned his mind and muscles intovigorous and practical action. And like every fortunate possessor ofthis valuable faculty, Bobby more often than not raised success out offailure.
And so it came to pass that when Bobby found himself cast away upon thenaked rocks of a small and treeless sub-Arctic island, with no shelterfrom the awful cold of a driving blizzard, and with no other tools thanhis hands, he did not give up and say, "This is the end," and then sitdown to wait for the pitiless cold to end his sufferings. What he didsay was:
"Well, here I am in another mess, and I've got to find some way out ofit."
He examined the skiff carefully and the examination satisfied him thatit was too badly injured to be repaired with the means at his command,and so with all his energy he set himself at once to making himself ascomfortable as the conditions and the surroundings would permit.
First he scoured the island for wood, for he knew that presently thestorm and blizzard would rise to such proportions as to render anyefforts to find wood impossible, and any attempt to move about perilous,and therefore no time must be lost.
In a little while he succeeded in collecting a considerable amount ofdriftwood, and when he turned his attention to other things he had theconsolation of knowing that the gale would sweep the snow from the rocksand into the sea, and that any wood that he had overlooked in hissearch, or had no time now to gather, would be left uncovered, where hecould find it when the blizzard was past and he could go abroad again.
He piled his fuel by the side of a big, high, smooth-faced bowlder whichhe had purposely chosen because of its location, not far from the placewhere he had been driven ashore, and on the lee side of the island. Thesmooth face of this bowlder looked toward the water, and with its backtoward the wind it offered a fairly good wind-break, and a considerabledrift had already formed against its face, or sheltered, side, where thesnow lodged as it was driven in swirling gusts around its ends or sweptover its top.
When his wood was gathered, Bobby with much effort dragged the boat tothe rock, and then working hard and fast cleared away the snow as besthe could with the aid of sticks and feet from the smooth rock bed infront of the bowlder, and on which the bowlder rested. He now carriedfrom the innumerable stones lying about upon the wind-swept rocks,sufficient to build at right angles to the bowlder two rough walls abouttwo feet high and as long as the width of the boat. These walls wereperhaps eight feet apart, and when they were finished he raised theboat, bottom up, upon them, the after part of the boat resting upon one,the prow extending over the other, and the side of the boat shoved backflush against the bowlder face.
Thus he made for himself a covered shelter, and the front of this heenclosed with other stones, save for a space three feet wide in thecenter, which he reserved for a door. From low spruce bushes--for therewere no trees on the island--he now gathered a quantity of brush andarranged it under the boat for a bed.
Dusk was settling before these arrangements had been completed. When allwas at length as snug as his ingenuity could make it in the short timeat his disposal, he stored as much of the wood, under the boat as thelimited space would allow and still permit him room to stretch withsome comfort; and as quickly as possible he built a small fire justoutside the door. Already snow had drifted around the ends and on top ofthe boat and his little fire reflecting heat within soon made hiscovered nook comfortable enough.
Fourteen sea pigeons would make fourteen meals, though scant ones for ahusky fellow like Bobby. Now he was hungry enough, as indeed he alwayswas at meal hour and it did not take him long to pluck and dress one ofthe birds, and in short order it was grilling merrily on the end of astick. There was no bread to keep the grilled sea pigeon company, butBobby did not mind in the least. Indeed, this lack of variety was nohardship. He often dined upon meat alone, and now he was thankful enoughto have the sea pigeons, or indeed anything.
But almost before his supper was cooked the little fire, deluged withclouds of snow, dried out and refused to burn, and it became evident toBobby that he must face the night without fire, and resort to othermeans to protect himself in his narrow quarters from freezing. He wasalready ashiver and his hands and feet were numb.
He had no blanket, and no other covering than the wet clothes he wore,and he closed the door of his shelter as best he could with the sticksof driftwood which were stored under the boat. There was nothing else tobe done.
The cold had become intense. The storm demon had broken loose in all itsfury and was lashing sea and land in wild frenzy. The shrieking wind,the dull, thunderous pounding of the waves upon the rocks and the hissof driving snow, filled the air with a tumult that was little less thanterrifying.
No man unsheltered could have survived an hour upon the exposed rocks ofthe blizzard-swept island, and cold and shivering as he was, Bobby gavethanks for his narrow little cover under the boat, which in contrast tothe world outside appealed to him now as an exceedingly snug retreat. Itwas safe for a little while, at least, and here he hoped he might havethe strength to weather the storm in safety.
And while he lay and listened to the roar and tumult of the storm,presently he became aware that he was growing warmer. His shiveringceased. The bitter chill of the first half hour after his fire went outpassed away, and in a little while to his astonishment he discoveredthat he was not after all so uncomfortable.
"The snow must have covered me all up," he exclaimed with suddenenlightenment, "and I'll be at the bottom of a big drift pretty soon,and that's what's making me warm."
It was dark, and he struck a match to investigate, and sure enough,every chink and crevice, even his door, was packed with snow, and not abreath of air stirred within. Gradually the sound of the shrieking windand pounding sea seemed farther and farther away, and he heard it as onehears something in the distance.
"Mother's going to be scared for me," he mused, as he rearranged his bedof boughs. "She'll think I'm lost, and I'm sorry. She'll be all rightwhen I get home, though. It is a fine mess to get into."
Then his thoughts turned to Abel Zachariah and Skipper Ed and Jimmy,somewhere out on the coast and weathering the same storm. But they had atent and a stove, and they would be comfortable enough, he had no doubt.
But there was the seal hunt. Winter had come to cut off the seal hunttwo weeks too soon, and they could scarcely have made a beginning. Thatwas a serious matter. The failure of the fishing season, now coupledwith an undoubted failure of the autumn seal hunt, would pinch themharder than they had ever been pinched before. Without the seals theywould not be able to keep all of their dogs, and the dogs were anecessity of their life.
All of these thoughts passed through Bobby's mind as he lay in the densedarkness of his den. But he was young and he was optimistic, anddisturbing thoughts presently gave way to a picture of the snug littlecabin at the head of Abel's Bay and of its roaring fire in the big boxstove, and with the picture the sound of the storm drew farther andfarther away until it became at last one of Mrs. Abel's quaint Eskimolullabies, that she crooned to him when he was little, and Bobby slept.
And there under the snow drift he slept as p
eacefully as he could haveslept in his bed at home in the cabin at Abel's Bay, and just aspeacefully as he could ever have slept in a much finer bed in that mistyand forgotten past before he drifted down from the sea to be a part ofthe life of the stern and desolate Labrador.
And so God prepares and tempers us, to our lot, and shows us how to behappy and content, if we are willing, in whatever land He places us,and with whatever He provides for us. And thus He was tempering Bobbyand directing him to his destiny.