CHAPTER XV.
OFF FOR LABRADOR
Slowly but surely the launch gained on the flying schooner, until, as the sun was sinking behind its western horizon of water, she fired a shot that passed through the "Sea Bee's" mainsail and fell a hundred yards beyond her.
"Wh-e-e-w!" exclaimed White, as he glanced up at the clean-cut hole. "That's rather too close for comfort, and I shouldn't be surprised if the next one made splinters fly. However, it will soon be dark, and then, if we are not disabled, we may be able to give them the slip."
"I don't believe there's going to be another shot," cried Cabot, who was gazing eagerly astern. "No—yes—hurrah! They are turning back. They have given it up, old man, and we are safe. Bully for us! I wonder what possesses them to do such a thing, though, when they had so nearly caught us?"
"Can't imagine," replied White, who was also staring at the launch, which certainly had circled back and was making towards the place whence she had come. "They are afraid to be caught out at sea after dark perhaps. I always understood that Frenchmen made mighty poor sailors. Lucky thing for us she wasn't a British launch, for they'd have kept on around the world but what they'd had us."
In justice to the Frenchmen it should be said that their reason for turning back, which our lads did not learn until long afterwards, was the imminent exhaustion of their coal supply, which, not calculated for a long cruise, would barely serve to carry them back to the Bay of Islands.
By the time the launch was lost to sight in the growing dusk the "Ruth" had also disappeared. She was headed southward when last seen, and now White said it was time that they, too, were turning towards their ultimate destination. So, topsails and mainstaysail were taken in, and the helm was put down until fore and mainsails jibed over. Then sheets were trimmed until the little schooner, with lee rail awash, was running something east of north, on an easy bowline, carrying a bone in her teeth and leaving a bubbling wake trailing far astern. With everything thus satisfactorily in shape, White lighted the binnacle lamp, and giving Cabot a course to steer, went below to prepare the first meal of their long cruise. "You must keep a sharp lookout," he said as he disappeared down the companionway, "for I don't dare show any lights. So if we are run into we'll have only ourselves to blame."
Left thus to his own devices, Cabot realised for the first time the responsibility of his position and began to reflect seriously upon what he had done. Until this time one disturbing event had followed another so rapidly that he had been borne along almost without a thought of what he was doing or of the consequences. As a result, instead of carrying out the purpose for which he had been sent to Newfoundland, and studying its mineral resources, he now found himself forced into flight for having defied the authorities of the island, embarked upon a doubtful trading venture into one of the wildest and least known portions of the continent, and, with but a slight knowledge of seamanship, engaged in navigating a small sailing vessel across one of its stormiest seas. What would his guardian and employer say could he know all this and see him at the present moment?
"I wish he could, though," exclaimed Cabot half aloud, "for it would be fun to watch his look of amazement and hear his remarks. I suppose he is wondering what has become of that Bell Island report I was to send in the first thing, and I guess he'll have to wonder for some time longer, as St. Johns is about the last place I feel like visiting just at present. I certainly have made a mess of my affairs, though, so far, and it looks as if I had only just begun, too. At the same time I don't see how I could have acted differently. I tried hard enough to reach St. Johns, and would have got there all right if it hadn't been for this factory business. But when the fellow who saved my life got into trouble, from which I could help him out, I'm sure even Mr. Hepburn would say I was bound to do it. Besides, I have found one promising outcrop of copper, and now I'm off for Labrador; so perhaps things will turn out all right after all. Anyway I'm learning how to sail a boat, and that is something every fellow ought to know. I wish it wasn't so awfully dark though, and that White would hurry up with that supper, for I am powerful hungry. How good it smells, and what a fine chap he is. Falling in with him was certainly a great bit of luck. But how this confounded compass wabbles, and how the schooner jumps off her course if I lift my eyes from it for a single instant. I don't see why she can't go straight if I hold the tiller perfectly still. There's a star dead ahead, and I guess I'll steer by it. Then I can keep the sharp lookout White spoke of at the same time."
Thus deciding, the anxious helmsman fixed his gaze upon the newly risen star that he had just discovered, and wondered admiringly at its rapid increase in brilliancy. After a little he rubbed his eyes and looked again at two more stars that had suddenly appeared above the horizon directly below the first one.
"Never saw red and green stars before," Cabot muttered. "Must be peculiar to this high latitude. Wonder if they can be stars, though? Oh! what a chump I am. White! I say, White, come up here quick!"
In obedience to this summons the young skipper thrust his head from the companionway.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Don't know exactly," replied Cabot, "but there is a lighthouse or a dock or something right in front of us."
"Steamer!" cried White as he sprang on deck and glanced ahead. "Keep her away, quick. I don't want them to sight us."
"Steamer," repeated Cabot as he obeyed this order and let the schooner fall off to leeward. "I never thought of such a thing as a steamer away up here. Do you mean that she is a frigate?"
"No," laughed White. "There are other steamers besides frigates even in these waters, and that is one of them. She is the 'Harlaw,' from Flower Cove, near the northern end of the island, and bound for Halifax. It's mighty lucky she didn't pass us by daylight."
"Why?"
"Because she is already heading in for the Bay of Islands and would have reported us as soon as she got there. Then we would have had a frigate after us sure enough."
"But how do you know she's a steamer? Mightn't she be a sailing vessel!"
"Not with that white light at her foremast head. Sailing vessels aren't allowed to show any above their side lights. Now go below and eat your supper while I take her."
This eating alone was such an unpleasant feature of the cruise that, as Cabot sat down to his solitary meal, he regretted having persuaded White to leave David Gidge behind.
"I am afraid this going to sea shorthanded will prove a false economy after all," he said to himself, thereby reaching a conclusion that has been forced upon seafaring men since ships first sailed the ocean.
Finishing his supper as quickly as possible, Cabot rejoined his companion, and begged him also to hurry that they might bear each other company on deck.
"All right," agreed White, "only, of course, I shall be longer than you were, for I have to wash and put away the dishes."
"Oh, bother the dishes!" exclaimed Cabot "Let them go till morning."
"Not much. We haven't any too many dishes as it is, nor a chance of getting any more, and if I should leave them where they are we probably wouldn't have any by morning. Besides, it wouldn't be tidy, and an untidy ship is worse than an untidy house, because you can't get away from it. But I won't be long."
True to his promise, White, bringing with him a heavy oilskin coat and an armful of blankets, speedily rejoined his comrade, who was by this time shivering in the chill night air.
"Put this on," said the young skipper, tendering Cabot the oilskin, "and then I am going to ask you to stand first watch. I will roll up in these blankets and sleep here on deck, so that you can get me up at a moment's notice. You want to wake me at midnight, anyhow, when I will take the morning watch."
"Very well," agreed Cabot resignedly. "I suppose you know what is best to be done, but it seems to me that we are arranging for a very lonesome cruise on regular Box and Cox lines."
As White had no knowledge of Box and Cox he did not reply to this grumble, but, rolling up in his blankets until he resembled a huge cocoon, almost instantly dropped asleep.
During the next four hours Cabot, shivering with cold and aching with weariness, but never once allowing his tired eyes to close, remained at his post. Through the black night, and over the still darker waters, he guided the flying schooner according to the advice of the unstable compass card that formed the only spot of light within his whole range of vision. At the same time, knowing how little of skill he possessed in this new line of business, and not yet having a sailor's confidence in the craft that bore him, he was filled with such a fear of the night, the wind, the leaping waters, and a thousand imaginary dangers that his hardest struggle was against an ever-present impulse to arouse his sleeping comrade. But he would not yield, and finally had the satisfaction of coming unaided to the end of his watch.
"Midnight, and all hands on deck," he shouted, and White, springing up, asked:
"What's happened? Anything gone wrong?"
"Nothing yet," replied Cabot, "but something will happen if you leave me at this wretched tiller a minute longer."
"I won't," laughed the other. "It will only take me half a minute to get an eye-opener in shape of a cup of cold tea, and then you can turn in."
When Cabot was at length free to seek his bunk he turned in all standing, only kicking off his boots. The very next thing of which he was conscious was being shaken and told that breakfast was ready.
It was broad daylight; the sun was shining; the breeze had so moderated that White had been able to leave the schooner to herself with a lashed helm while he prepared breakfast, and as Cabot tumbled out he wondered if he had really been anxious and fearful a few hours earlier.
All that day and through the following night our lads kept watch and watch while the "Sea Bee" travelled up the coast. Early on the second morning they passed Flower Cove, and from this point White headed directly across the Strait of Belle Isle, which, here, is but a dozen miles in width. Then, as Newfoundland grew dim behind them, a new coast backed by a range of lofty hills came into view ahead; and, in answer to Cabot's eager question, White said:
"Yes, that is Labrador, and those are the Bradore Hills back of Forteau."
CHAPTER XVI.
MOSQUITOES OF THE FAR NORTH
While Cabot gazed eagerly at the lofty but still distant coast towards which all their hopes were now directed, his companion was casting anxious glances to the eastward, where a low hanging bank of cloud betokened an advancing fog. He had good reason to be apprehensive, for this northern entrance to the gulf of St. Lawrence forms the shortest route for steamers plying between Canadian and European ports. Consequently many of them use it during the brief summer season when it is free from ice. At the same time it is a stormy stretch of water, tormented by powerful currents, and generally shrouded in fog.
Early in the season countless icebergs, borne southward by the Arctic current that hugs the Labrador coast, drift aimlessly over its troubled surface, and even at midsummer it is a passage to be dreaded. White, being familiar with its many dangers, had good cause for anxiety, as he saw one of them about to enfold his little craft. He consulted the compass, took his bearings with the utmost care, and then as Cabot, finding his view obscured, turned to him with a look of inquiry, remarked:
"Yes, we are in for it, and you'd better keep a sharp lookout for steamers. It wouldn't be very pleasant to run one down and sink it, you know."
"I should say not," responded Cabot as he started for the bow of the schooner, where, steadying himself by a stay, he peered into the thickening mist curtain. For half an hour or so he saw nothing, though during that time the hoarse bellowing of a steam whistle, approaching closely and then receding, told of a passing ship. While the lookout was still listening to this a black form, magnified to gigantic size by his apprehensions and the opaqueness through which he saw it, loomed up directly ahead and apparently not a rod away. With a sharp cry of warning the lad sprang aft, while a yell of dismay came from the stranger. The next moment, both vessels having been headed sharply into the wind, lay side by side, heaving and grinding against each other, with their sails slatting noisily overhead.
As our lads realised the true character of the other craft, they were ready to laugh at their fright of a minute earlier, for she was only an open fishing boat, carrying three men, a woman, and a couple of children.
"We took ye for a steamer, first sight," remarked one of the men.
"And we did the same by you," laughed White. "Who are you and where are you bound?"
"Mail boat from L'Anse Au Loup for Flower Cove," replied the man, "and as we're not sure of our compass we'd be obleeged if you'd give us a bearing."
"With pleasure. Come aboard and take it for yourself. If you'll wait just a minute I'll have a letter ready for you."
So saying the young skipper dived below and hastily pencilled a line to his mother, telling of their safety up to that time.
While he was thus engaged Cabot learned that owing to the recent arrival of a steamer from St. Johns provisions were plentiful on that part of the Labrador coast, but were believed to be scarce further north.
As a result of this information the "Sea Bee" was headed more to the eastward after the boats had again parted company, for, as White said, there was no use wasting time running in to Blanc Sablon, Forteau, or any of those places at which the trading steamer had touched. "It is too bad," he continued, "for I did hope to dispose of our cargo somewhere along here. If we could do that we might be home again inside of ten days. Now, if we have to go far to the northward, it may be two or three weeks longer before we again sight Blomidon."
"I am sorry for your sake," replied Cabot, "though I would just as soon spend a month up here as not. I only wish we could land somewhere along here, for I am curious to see what land of a country Labrador is."
This wish was gratified late that afternoon, when the fog lifted in time to disclose the fine harbour of Red Bay, into which, White said, they would run, so as to spend the night quietly at anchor, with both watches turned in at once.
At Red Bay, therefore, Cabot had his first taste of life in Labrador. The shores looked so green and attractive that he wondered why the only settlement in sight—a collection of a dozen huts and fish houses, should be located on a rocky islet, bare and verdureless. He asked White, who only laughed, and said he'd find out soon enough by experience.
After they had come to anchor and lowered the sails, White got an empty water cask into the dinghy, saying that first of all they must go about a mile to a trout stream at the head of the bay for some fresh water.
"Trout stream!" cited Cabot. "How I wish I had my fishing tackle. Trout for supper would be fine."
"There are other things equally important with tackle for trout fishing in this country," remarked White.
"What, for instance?"
"You'll know inside of half an hour," was the significant reply.
So they rowed up the bay, Cabot filled with curiosity and White chuckling with anticipation. The further they went the more was Cabot charmed with the beauty of the scene and the more desirous did he become to ramble over the green slopes on which, as White assured him, delicious berries of several varieties were plentiful. At length they opened a charming valley, through which wound and tumbled a sparkling brook thickly bordered by alders and birches. At one side were several substantial log cabins, but as they were evidently uninhabited Cabot began to undress, declaring that he must have a bath in that tempting water.
"Better keep your shirt on until we have filled the cask," advised White, at the same time stepping overboard in the shallows at the mouth of the stream without removing any of his clothing. They pulled the boat up until it grounded, and then White began hurriedly to fill the water barrel, while Cabot waded a short distance up stream to see if he could discover any trout. All at once he stopped, looked bewildered, and then started back on a run. At the same time he slapped vigorously at his bare legs, brushed his face, waved his arms, and uttered exclamations of frantic dismay. The air about him had been suddenly blackened by an incredible swarm of insects that issued in dense clouds from the low growth bordering the stream, and attacked the unfortunate youth with the fury of starvation.
"What's the matter?" inquired White innocently, as his companion rushed past him towards the open.
"Matter!" retorted the other. "I'm on fire with the bites of these infernal things, and we want to get out of here in a hurry or they'll sting us to death."
"Oh, pshaw!" laughed White, though he also was suffering greatly. "You've only struck a few ordinary Labrador mosquitoes and black flies."
"Mosquitoes and black flies!" cried Cabot. "Hornets and red-hot coals, you'd better say. How can you stand them? Your skin must be thicker than sole leather."
"I can't very well," admitted White, "but this cask has got to be filled, and the sooner we do it the quicker we can get away. Break off a couple of leafy branches to fight with and then keep 'em off both of us as well as you can. It will only take a few minutes longer."
In spite of their efforts at self-defence, faces, hands, and Cabot's bare legs were covered with blood before their task was completed, and they were once more in the boat pulling furiously for the wind-swept water of the open bay.
"I never expected to find mosquitoes this far north," said Cabot, as the pests began to disappear before the freshening breeze and the rowers paused for breath.
"Strangers are apt to be unpleasantly surprised by them," replied White, "but they are here all the same, and they extend as far north as any white man has ever been. I have been told that they are as bad in Greenland as here, and I expect they flourish at the North Pole itself. They certainly are the curse of Labrador, and until ice makes in the fall they effectually prevent all travel into the interior. Even the Indians have to come to the coast in summer to escape them, while the whites who visit this country for the fishing make their settlements on the barest and most wind-swept places. The few who live here the year round have summer homes on the coast, but build their winter houses inland, at the heads of bays or the mouths of rivers, where there is timber to afford some protection from the cold. Those are winter houses back there."
"I wondered why they were abandoned," said Cabot, "but I don't any longer."
"By the way," suggested White, "you forgot to try the trout fishing. Shall we go back?"
"I wouldn't go fishing on that stream if every trout in it was of solid gold and I could scoop them out with my hands," asserted Cabot. "In fact, I don't know of anything short of starvation, or dying of thirst, that would take me back there."
After supper our lads went ashore at the island settlement, and were hospitably received by the dwellers in its half-dozen stoutly built, earthen-roofed houses. These were constructed of logs, set on end like palisades, and while they were scantily furnished, they were warm and comfortable. In them Cabot, who was regarded with great curiosity on account of having come from the far foreign city of New York, asked many questions, and acquired much information concerning the strange country to which Fate had brought him. Thus he learned that Labrador is a province of Newfoundland, and that while its prolific fisheries attract some 20,000 people to its bleak shores every summer, its entire resident white population hardly exceeds one thousand souls. He was told that from June to October news of the outside world is received by steamer from St. Johns every two or three weeks, but that during the other eight months of the year only three mails reach the country, coming by dog sledge from far-away Quebec.
While Cabot was gathering these and many other interesting bits of information, White was becoming confirmed in his belief that to make a successful trading trip he must carry his goods far to the northward.
So at daybreak of the following morning the "Sea Bee" was once more got under way, and ran up the rock-bound coast past Chateau Bay, with its superb Castle Rock, to Battle Harbour, the metropolis of Labrador, which place was reached late the same evening.
At this point, which is at the eastern end of the Belle Isle Strait, is a resident population of some two hundred souls, a hospital, a church, a schoolhouse, and a prosperous mercantile establishment. Here our lads found a large steamer loading with dried fish for Gibraltar, and here Cabot became greatly interested in the rose-tinted quartz that forms so striking a feature of Labrador scenery.
At Battle Harbour they were still advised to push farther on, and so, bidding farewell to this outpost of civilisation, the "Sea Bee" again spread her dusky wings and set forth for the mission stations of the far North, where it was hoped a profitable market might be found.