Left on the Labrador
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Dillon Wallace >> Left on the Labrador
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"Perhaps we can get some game on the island?" suggested Charley.
"No," said Toby, "they's no game here. 'Tis too small an island."
"Is any one likely to come this way in a boat?" asked Charley hopefully.
"No," answered Toby discouragingly. "We're clost to the head o' the bay,
and nobody ever comes here except Dad. We're sure in a wonderful bad
fix, Charley."
XII
THE PANGS OF STARVATION
When the first shock at the loss of their boat had passed, youthful
buoyancy of spirit asserted itself, and the two castaways looked more
hopefully upon their position. By eating lightly, Toby declared they
could make a goose last them two days, and thus they had six days'
rations of goose. The other food they would consider another day's
rations. Thus, while they would not have as much to eat by any means as
they might wish, they would do fairly well for a week.
"'Tis the comin' o' winter," prognosticated Toby. "'Tis gettin' frostier
all the time, and when the storm clears 'twill settle down to steady
freezin' day and night. If she does, the bay's like to fasten over soon,
and then we'll be walkin' back to Double Up Cove on the ice, and
couldn't use a boat if we had un."
"How long will it likely be before the bay freezes?" asked Charley
anxiously.
"Soon as the wind stops and she calms down. After she begins freezin'
she'll keep freezin' and ice is like to make fast," Toby explained. "The
ice'll hold us in one or two days after she fastens, whatever, and
there'll be fine footin' then to Double Up Cove."
"Then we're not likely to be here very long, and that's a comfort," said
Charley, much relieved.
"Not so long, I'm thinkin'," agreed Toby.
There was a good deal of driftwood on the island shores, and dead wood
scattered over the island, and upon Toby's suggestion they carried a
quantity of this to the lean-to, and piled it at one side of the big
boulder against which the fire was built. A huge pile was collected to
serve as a reserve supply of fuel, that they might have a-plenty on hand
to serve their needs, should the storm continue for two or three days,
as Toby predicted it would, in which case the dead wood scattered over
the island might be buried so deeply beneath the snow that they could
not reach it.
When Toby deemed the supply of dead wood sufficient, even in case of a
greater emergency than he anticipated, he felled some green trees,
trimmed the branches from the trunks, and cut the logs into convenient
lengths for use upon the fire, and these Charley carried to the lean-to
and piled at the opposite side of the boulder, that either dry or green
wood might be had as desired.
"The green wood's slow to get started," said Toby, "but 'twill burn
longer and keeps a fire longer."
Toby's judgment in collecting a reserve supply of fuel proved sound.
Before night came a sudden and decided increase in the fall of snow
rendered it unsafe to move a score of feet from the shelter, and the
boys were thankful for the foresight that had led them to provide for
the emergency.
Comfort and luxury are measured by contrast and comparison. The mail
boat had seemed to Charley bleak and uncomfortable as compared to the
luxurious home he had just left. The cabin at Pinch-In Tickle had
appealed to him as a crude and miserable shelter in contrast to the mail
boat, and he had wondered how the Twigs could exist in a place so barren
of what he had always looked upon as the most necessary conveniences.
But after his experience on the trap boat, and the retreat from the
Duck's Head camp, the Twig home, at Double Up Cove, in all its
simplicity, was accepted by him as possessing every necessary comfort.
Now, in contrast to the buffeting snow and wind which he and Toby had
been fighting all day, even the rough lean-to assumed a cozy atmosphere,
the fire before it blazing cheerily, and the boulder against which the
fire was built reflecting the heat to the farthest corner.
"I never thought a place like this could be so snug," said Charley, when
they had plucked and dressed one of the geese, and after disjointing it
with his sheathknife Toby had put it over the fire to boil in the
kettle, and the two boys lay upon their bough bed basking in the warmth
and sniffing the appetizing odour sent forth from the kettle, while
beyond the fire the snow drifted and the wind whistled.
"'Tis snug now," agreed Toby. "'Tis an easy way o' makin' a place to
bide in when they's no tent."
"Your father always says not to worry," said Charley reflectively. "I
know he's right, and it never helps a fellow any to worry. I'm not going
to worry again. I'm sure the ice will come in time to get us out of
here. When we found the boat was gone I _was_ worried though! I'm
almost glad now we got caught here. When I get home and tell Dad about
it he'll think it was just great!"
"No, as Dad says, 'twill do no good to worry, because worry unsets the
insides of our heads and then that upsets our other insides and we gets
sick," commented Toby. "We're about as well off without the boat as we
would be with un. 'Tis lookin' to me like the start of winter, and if
'tis, I'm thinkin' the bay'll fasten over by the time the storm's over
and before we could be gettin' away with the boat if we had un, and we'd
be havin' to walk whatever."
"Do you mean walk on the ice when it comes?" asked Charley anxiously.
"Won't that take a good while? We won't starve before then, will we?"
"We may be havin' some hungry days, but we'll not be starvin',"
suggested Toby. "Indians has hungry spells when they don't get deer
sometimes, and if Indians can stand un we can."
"Yes," Charley boasted, "if the Indians can stand it we can."
It was long after dark, and the evening well advanced, when they ate a
most satisfying supper of boiled goose. After they had eaten Toby cut a
supply of dry shavings and kindling wood from the hearts of dead sticks,
which he split, and stowed the shavings and kindling wood behind their
sleeping bags where the snow could not reach them to wet them, and they
would be ready for instant use in the morning. Then he piled an extra
supply of dry wood upon the fire, and upon this placed two of the green
logs, remarking:
"The green wood'll not be goin' out so quick when she gets goin', and
the coals are like to keep the fireplace free o' snow longer if she
drifts in whilst we sleeps."
Never had Charley experienced such a storm. The weather had suddenly
grown intensely cold, as he discovered when he stepped beyond the fire's
glow. Now, snuggling down into his sleeping bag, it seemed to him that
all the forces of nature had broken loose in their wildest fury. Above
the shriek of wind was heard the dull thud of pounding seas upon the
rocks, and the hiss of driving snow, combining to fill the air with a
tumult little less than terrifying.
Once, in concern, he spoke to Toby, but there was no response, and he
knew that Toby was asleep. For a time he lay awake and listened to the
roar of the storm and the thunder of the seas, and then, wearied with
the day's labours and adventures, the shriek of wind and hiss of snow
and roar of pounding seas blended into blissful unconsciousness, and he
slept as peacefully as he would have slept in his bed at Double Up Cove.
When the young adventurers awoke the next morning, there was no
abatement in the storm. A huge drift covered the boulder and the place
where their fire had been, and nearly enclosed the front of the lean-to;
and before they could lay a fire, a half hour's hard work was necessary
to clear the snow away, each using a snowshoe in lieu of a shovel.
Then Toby lighted a fire, and soon the lean-to was warm again, and the
kettle boiling merrily, and they ate a light breakfast of goose, a
little of the remaining bread, and one cup each of weak tea sweetened
with molasses.
"We'll have to be a bit careful o' the grub," advised Toby, "and not eat
all we wants. There's no tellin' how long 'twill be before the bay
freezes over. I'm thinkin' if we eats only twice a day 'twill be best."
"That's good sense," agreed Charley. "We'll not be doing anything but
waiting here, and we'll have to make two meals do us."
For four days and four nights the blizzard raged without abatement, and
when the sky cleared on the fifth day, a new intense cold had settled
upon the world. When the boys were able again to venture forth, they
discovered that while the smooth rocks of the island had been swept
clear of snow by the wind, huge drifts had formed against every
obstructing boulder, and among the trees the snow lay a full four feet
deep.
"It's a good time for me to learn to use snowshoes," suggested Charley.
"I'm going to put them on and try them."
"'Tis, now," agreed Toby. "Get un out, and we'll see how you likes un."
Toby adjusted the slings for Charley, and then donning his own the two
set out in the deep snow on the center of the island. At the beginning
Charley stumbled, and falling in the snow could not get upon his feet
without Toby's assistance; but in a little while he discovered that he
could swing along at a good pace, and Toby pronounced him an "easy
larner."
"I'm thinkin' Dad's at Black River tilt yet," said Toby when the
snowshoe lesson was finished and they had returned to their fire. "He'll
be havin' a wonderful bad time settin' up his path again. The marten
traps'll be above the snow, settin' on trees, but the mink and fox
traps'll be deep enough under."
"Our snares will all be covered up," suggested Charley. "We'll never
find them."
"We'll never dig _they_ out, whatever," agreed Toby. "When we gets home
we'll be settin' new ones."
"It seems to me it must be cold enough to freeze the bay," said Charley
wistfully. "We haven't much goose left, and if it doesn't freeze soon
we'll not have any left."
"'_Tis_ cold enough," said Toby, "but the sea'll have to calm down
before she freezes. We'll have to bide here three or four days more,
_what_ever."
Two days later they ate the last of the goose, and that night went to
their sleeping bags with no breakfast in view for the following morning.
Still the waters of the bay gave no promise of freezing when they awoke.
Heavy seas were breaking in from the eastward, though for three days the
sky had been clear.
With scant meals the boys had been hungry for several days, and now with
nothing to eat they became ravenous. They could talk of little else than
the good things they would have to eat when they were safely back at the
cabin at Double Up Cove, and the possibility of the early freezing of
the bay. Every little while during the day they wandered out along the
shore in the hope that they might discover that the sea was calming,
only to return each time with little to encourage them.
"I'm as hollow as a drum," Charley declared when night came and they had
settled in their sleeping bags. "I don't see how I can stand it another
day. Isn't there something we can find to eat?"
"I'm wonderful hungry too," admitted Toby. "I'm as empty as a flour
barrel that's been scraped, and I'm not knowin' anything we could find
to eat, with snow on the ground. If the ground were clear we might be
findin' berries, though I'm doubtin' there's many on Swile Island. But
if there are, they're under the snow and they'll have to bide there, for
we never could be findin' they."
"It seems to me I can't sleep without something to eat," Charley
complained. "I just can't stand it much longer, that's all."
"Try gettin' asleep," counseled Toby, "and when you gets asleep you'll
be forgettin' about bein' hungry."
Charley did get to sleep readily enough, but it was only to dream that
he was hungry, and always in his dreams he was about to get food, but
something happened to keep it from him.
Two more days passed, and still the boys were without food. No one can
know but one who has starved the degree of their hunger and craving for
food during this period. Nothing that might have served as food would
have been rejected by them or have been repugnant to them, but no morsel
could they find. It was on the morning of the third day of their famine,
when hunger pangs were the keenest, that Toby announced:
"I been prayin' the Lard to send the ice, and telling He how we wants to
get away from here but don't know how until ice comes. Has you been
prayin', Charley?"
"No," confessed Charley, "I've been growling around about our hard luck
and about being hungry. All I know is the Lord's prayer anyhow. I never
was taught to pray out of my head. How do you do it?"
"Just talk to the Lard like you talks to anybody," said Toby in
astonishment. "Ask He what you wants He to give you or wants He to do,
just like you asks your Dad."
"You pray for both of us," suggested Charley. "Do it aloud so that I can
hear it, and I'll say it over to myself, and maybe that will help. Don't
forget to tell Him how hungry we are."
"I'm not doubtin' 'twould help," agreed Toby. "We'll be takin' off our
caps. 'Twill be more respectful. Mr. Stuart at the Hudson's Bay Post
makes us take off our caps when we talks to he and asks he anything."
"Yes, and we'd better get on our knees too," suggested Charley.
"Aye, 'twould be respectful," Toby agreed. "Dad says 'tis fine to kneel
when 'tis so we can, though if we can't, to pray standin' up or rowin' a
boat, or any way that's handiest."
Taking off their caps and kneeling upon their sleeping bags under the
lean-to, and bowing their heads reverently, Toby prayed:
"Charley and I are wonderful hungry, Lard. We been bidin' here on this
island, which we calls Swile Island, goin' on ten days. We only has two
meals a day till day before yesterday, and since then we has nothin' and
to-day we has nothin'. Please, Lard, calm the sea and let the bay fasten
over so 'twill be right to walk on, and we'll be goin' to Double Up Cove
where our home is. You know all about it, Lard. We been doin' our best,
Lard, and we don't know anything more to do. We're in a wonderful bad
fix, and we needs help to get out of un. We're wantin' somethin' to eat,
Lard, and we'll be wonderful thankful for un. Amen."
The boys sat down and resumed their caps, and in a moment Charley said:
"That was a bang up prayer, Toby. I couldn't have thought of a thing to
say, except that I was hungry, but you thought of everything."
That evening Toby announced that the sea was calmer, but still too rough
to freeze, and the next morning that the water was much "steadier,"
though yet not enough to freeze.
"If she keeps on steadyin' down I'm thinkin' by to-morrow marnin' she'll
begin to fasten."
"I'm not half so hungry as I was," said Charley, "but I'll be just as
glad to get away from here."
"That's the way I hears the Indians say 'tis," said Toby, "and that's
the way 'tis with me. I wants to eat, but I'm not hankerin' after un the
way I was first."
Another morning brought a calm, though still unfrozen, sea. The boys
were early by the shore to scan eagerly the waters.
"She's smokin'!" exclaimed Toby. "She's smokin'! 'Tis a sure sign!"
"What do you mean?" asked Charley excitedly. "Do you mean that haze that
hangs over the water?"
"Aye," explained Toby, "'tis what we calls the sea smoke."
But this time the sign failed, and another morning dawned with the sea
still free from its wintry shackles. A gentle swell, but quite enough to
prevent the hoped for freezing, was rolling in, and the boys, quite
discouraged, returned to their fire.
"We can't stand it much longer," declared Charley, making no effort to
conceal his discouragement. "I'm getting so weak I don't believe I can
ever walk to Double Up Cove, even if it does freeze. I'm weak and I'm
sleepy all the time. We've been days without eating, and even when it
does freeze you say we'll have to wait a day or two before the ice
outside will be strong enough to bear our weight."
"Don't be talkin' that way now," counseled Toby. "We were prayin' the
Lard, and He'll fix un for us. Keep a stout heart We'll not be givin' up
hopes for another week, _what_ever."
"The Lord don't seem to be answering our prayer," retorted Charley.
And Toby, though he hid his thoughts within his breast, realized, even
better than did Charley, that their position was now desperate, and that
with another day or two without food they might become too weak to make
the journey to Double Up Cove. Even were the bay to freeze that very
night, at least two days must elapse before the water at a distance from
shore would be hard enough frozen to bear their weight, and permit them
to cross to the mainland.
XIII
THE GREAT SNOWY OWL
The cold had become intense, and in their starving condition Charley and
Toby felt it perhaps the more keenly. With the disappointment of another
morning dawning and still no sign of the longed-for ice, Charley, after
making his declaration of discouragement and hopelessness to Toby,
became quiet and morose. He had no inclination to leave the tent and the
fire, and he spent his time sitting under the shelter and brooding over
his troubles.
Toby, no less anxious, made frequent journeys along the shore. On each
return he would endeavour to engage Charley in conversation, but without
result. Charley's replies to questions were "yes" or "no," unless a
statement was necessary, and then it was given in as few words as
possible. He appeared to have suddenly developed a grudge against Toby,
as though Toby were responsible for their unfortunate position, and at
length would not respond to Toby's efforts at conversation, or reply to
him.
This was an attitude that Toby could not in the least understand, and he
finally, when Charley in silence crawled into his sleeping bag, left the
lean-to, doubly depressed because of Charley's bearing toward him, and
set out again to reconnoiter the island.
"'Tis not me he's angry with," he soliloquized, "'tis the hunger, and
'tis gettin' the insides of his head sick, like Dad says worry will."
Toby wandered aimlessly along the shore rocks. He was weak, and walking
was becoming an effort. For two or three days he and Charley had noticed
that when they sat down their knees would unexpectedly give way to let
them down with a shock upon their seat; and when they arose, they were
compelled to stand for a moment to steady themselves lest they would
stagger. Toby's usually brisk walk was now a lounging gait, like that of
one grown old.
He had more than half circled the island, and was returning to the
lean-to, when his eye fell upon something white, perched in a spruce
tree which stood apart from the other trees. He stepped nearer, and his
heart leaped with joy. The object was a great snowy owl.
With the best haste he could make he hurried back to the lean-to.
Charley was asleep in his bag, and without arousing him Toby secured his
rifle, and returned with renewed haste and vigour to the tree.
There still sat the owl taking its daytime rest, and quite unconscious
of impending danger. With greater care than he had ever taken before,
Toby aimed, fired, and the owl came tumbling to the snow below.
As though fearful that it might still escape from him, Toby sprang upon
the dead bird like a ravenous wolf. Tears of joy came into his eyes as
he held it up and stroked its feathers, and hugged it close to his
breast. This would save his own and Charley's life, and how glad Charley
would be!
How he ran back to the lean-to! How he shouted to Charley as he
approached! How the two boys, their eyes wet with tears, stroked the
thing for a moment before plucking it! these were events that neither
ever forgot while he lived.
"The Lard sent un to us! The Good Lard sent un!" declared Toby.
"The Lord surely sent it to save us!" said Charley devoutly. "Toby, I've
been a cad. I was so selfish that I was thinking that nothing mattered
but my having to stay here, and I guess I was blaming you for it. I
don't know why, for you didn't make the storm that stranded us here.
Anyhow, I acted a cad, and I want to tell you how sorry I am."
"'Tweren't your fault," soothed Toby. "Don't think of un. 'Twere like
Dad says, you got to worryin' and worry were makin' the insides of your
head upsot."
"Your father always says not to worry, but the Lord will help us out of
any fix, if we do our best first," said Charley. "He's right. Isn't it
just great, Toby, that you saw it and shot it! I feel like yelling, I
feel so happy!"
"Just get out and yell all you wants to," grinned Toby. "We'll have one
good feed, whatever."
In remarkably short time the owl was plucked, dressed and boiling
merrily over the fire in a kettle that was becoming rusty from disuse.
"We'll be eatin' the broth first, and then the meat a bit at a time, and
often," suggested Toby. "The Indians says if they eats too much when
they first gets un after starvin' 'tis like to make un sick. Sometimes
they gets wonderful sick, too."
"Then we'll be careful," agreed Charley, "though it's mighty hard not to
pitch right in. I feel as though I could eat it all and then want more."
"So does I," grinned Toby, "and I'm not doubtin' you could eat un all,
and I knows 'twould be easy for me to eat un."
How delicious the broth tasted, unsalted and unseasoned as it was! And
when they drank it all, and temptation got the better of them and they
each ate a small portion of the meat.
"'Tis growing calmer on the water," Toby announced when he had covered
the kettle and hidden its contents from their hungry eyes. "I sees un
when I'm out and sees the owl in the tree. The water's smokin' just fine
now. Come and have a look, Charley."
"All right," said Charley reluctantly rising, though cheerfully. "If I
stay here by the kettle, I'll not be able to leave the meat alone, and
one of us mustn't have any more of it than the other."
Down on the sunny side of the island Charley all at once clutched Toby's
arm.
"What's that?" he whispered excitedly, pointing to a dark object lying
upon the rocks just above the water's edge.
XIV
THE BAY FASTENS
"Down!" whispered Toby. "Keep down where you is! Don't move! 'Tis a
swile!"
Charley lay prone upon the snow, scarcely daring to move, and Toby was
gone in a twinkling, moving as silently as a fox. It seemed an age that
Charley lay there before he discovered Toby edging, rifle in hand, to a
rock behind which he might have good vantage ground for a shot.
Charley, tense with excitement lest the seal might take alarm, watched
Toby's every movement as he wormed himself forward, then lay still, then
wormed forward again little by little. On his success might depend their
lives, and Charley realized it fully. The owl would not last long, and
would not go far to renew their wasted strength. The ice had not yet
formed upon the bay, and still many days might pass before it would
form.
At last Toby reached the rock, and Charley held his breath as Toby
slowly and deliberately adjusted the rifle at his shoulder and aimed.
Then the rifle rang out as music to Charley's ears. The seal gave a
spasmodic lurch toward the water, and then lay still. Toby's aim had
been sure, and the bullet had reached its mark in the head, the one
point where it would deal quick and certain death to the seal.
Both boys ran to their game, and fairly shouted with the joy of success.
They touched it with their moccasined toes, and felt it with their
hands.
"'Tis a dotar,"[5] said Toby. "Now we has plenty to eat till the bay
fastens over."
"The Lord is _surely_ helping us!" declared Charley devoutly. "Just when
I gave up all hope of ever getting away from this island you shot the
owl, and now we've got the seal!"
"Let's thank the Lard," suggested Toby. "Dad says 'tis a fine thing to
thank He for what He's givin' us, and tryin' to be doin' somethin' for
_He_ sometimes, and not be always just askin' He for somethin' and
takin' what He's givin' us without ever lettin' He know how much we
likes un."
"You thank Him, Toby. I don't know just how to do it," admitted Charley.
"Dad never says blessing or gives thanks at the table the way your
father does."
"I'll thank He," agreed Toby. "We'll be gettin' on our knees."
The two boys knelt.
"Lard, Charley and I be wonderful thankful for the owl and the swile You
sends us. And we'll be tryin' to think o' things to do for You, and we
has a chanst. Amen."
"That makes me feel better," Charley confessed. "Now what shall we do
with the seal?"
"I'll be gettin' a rope, and we'll haul he over to camp."
"I'll stay here and watch it till you come back," Charley volunteered.
"I'll be comin' right back, and the swile'll not be runnin' away,"
grinned Toby.
"I know it," Charley laughed, "but I just want to enjoy looking at it."
When Toby was gone, Charley stroked the seal caressingly. He was sure
now that all of their worries were at an end. His heart was light again,
and he stood up and looked out over the smoking waters, and breathed
deeply of the frosty air. How lovely the world was! How glorious it was
just to live! What an Odyssey of adventures he would have to relate
when he reached home! And still, he mused, as wonderful as these
adventures appeared to him they were a part of the routine of life in
the country, and not one of them unusual. Toby looked upon them as a
part of the day's work, and experiences that were to be expected.
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