Adrift in the Ice-Fields

by William Henry Giles Kingston

  CHAPTER V.

  A MAD SPORTSMAN.--SNOW-BLIND.--A NIGHT OF PERIL.

  The next morning shone bright and clear, and the gunners were at theirposts in expectation of a good day's sport. They looked in vain,however, for any indications of open water, and a hole, sunk with theaxe to the depth of eighteen inches, failed to reach salt water,although several layers of sweet, fresh water were struck; and thelittle hollow furnished them many draughts of an element nowhere morewelcome than upon the spring ice. The sun shone brightly, their faces,still sore and feverish with yesterday's exposure, became sorer thanever, and the neck became chafed wherever it rubbed against the coatcollar.

  Still, these were minor evils amid the excitement of their occupation,for many flocks of wild geese were seen; and the appearance of a flock,however remote, is always the signal for every gunner to get under coverat once. A small flock of seven were completely destroyed that morning,in a manner that deserves recording here.

  They were first seen striking in from the Gulf, and swinging well toleeward,--for the wind was westerly,--scaled in to the stand occupied byDavies and Creamer, who were lying down taking their noon lunch, andreceived no warning of their approach until they saw the flock scalingover their heads. Seizing their guns, both fired as quickly as possible,Ben a little the first. His first barrel missed, but the second, aimedat the same bird, brought it down. Creamer's first barrel went off inthe act of cocking, in the hurry and agitation of the surprise; andletting the muzzle of his gun drop, he stood stupidly gazing at thedeparting flock, until roused by Davies's "Give them t'other barrel, anyway." Raising his gun, he fired instantly, and killed a fine gander,which fell dead a hundred and twelve yards from the stand.

  As if blinded by the unexpected danger, the remaining five swung justinside of the ice-boat, where La Salle and his companion, who had seenthem from the first, picked out a brace at long but practicable range,while the retreating birds flew up the channel towards Nine Mile Creek,where two more fell to Risk and the elder Davies. For over an hour theremaining bird flew with clamorous cries about the scene of hisbereavement, until a stranger, who had erected an ice-house, and placeda few rude decoys a few hundred yards from the bar, called him down, andfired a shot which dropped him on the ice.

  "GIE ME MY GUSE, MON, AND DINNA DELAY ME." Page 97.]

  He seemed to be little hurt, however; for, getting to his feet, hewalked rapidly away in the direction of the sea ice, followed by thestranger, who did not attempt to use the long gun which he carried withhim even when the bird took wing and flew heavily between the ice-houseson the East Bar, where a long shot from La Salle's gun brought him downdead. La Salle brought in the bird, and while reloading his gun, thestranger came up and claimed it as his.

  He was a tall, lean, sharp-featured man, with long, lank hair, a darkcomplexion, and large lack-luster eyes, imbedded in cavernous hollows.His gun was not loaded, nor did he wear either shot-bag or powder-horn;and his weapon, an ancient Highland Scotch "fusee" changed topercussion, seemed as worn out and dilapidated as the owner.

  "Gie me my guse, mon, and dinna delay me, for I hae much to do the day,and I munna be hindered in my mission," was the strange salutation ofthe original, as he leaned upon his gun at the side of the boat.

  "You are welcome to your goose, friend, although I fear that you wouldhave had a long chase, if the Baby there had not put in her word in thematter. Here is your bird, sir;" and La Salle handed the body to theunknown, who, after examining it closely, sighed heavily, andreplied,--

  "It's a braw bird, but it's nae the king o' the geese."

  "The king of the geese, friend? What do you mean?" said Kennedy,sharply.

  "O, naething; that is, naething to ye, sirs; but to me, O yes, to meeverything. Ah," said he, plaintively, "how mony days hae I sat throughstorm, and frost, and sleet! how mony nights hae I watched in the stillmoonlight, amang the reedy creeks! how mony times I hae weized a slugthrough a bird a'maist amang the clouds! but I hae had a' my labor invain, in vain."

  "But how do you know that you have not already shot the king of thegeese?" said La Salle, anxious to investigate the peculiar monomania ofthis poor lunatic; for such, indeed, he evidently was.

  "Why, mon," said he, evidently surprised at the absurdity of thequestion, "by his croun, of course. The king has ae braw croun o' whitean black fedders, an' I'se reckon ye's never seen a guse like thatava'--hae ye now?" he asked, anxiously.

  "I have never seen any such bird," said La Salle; "but why do you careso much about shooting this rare bird?"

  "Weel, I'll tell ye, sin ye were kin' till me, an' did na keep the gusefra' me. Ye must promise me that ye will na try to kill it wi' your ainhands, for I must kill it mysel'."

  "We promise," said La Salle, encouragingly, while Kennedy gave ahalf-pitying nod of the head.

  "Weel, when I was young I cared for naething but the gun, an' mony abeating I got for wark negleckit, an' schule-days wasted in the woods,or on the ice. As I grew older I cared more an' more for huntin', an'although I killed mair than ony three in the settlement, I was neversatisfied. Ance I sat here on a could day in April; the ice had gane offthe bar, but the flats were yet covered, and I knew that until the win'changed the ice would not be carried off.

  "Sae, as I sat an' saw the breakers roolin' in an' breakin' an' heavin'the outer ice, I saw mony flecks pass under the lee of the Governor'sIsland, an' then I grew mad like, an' swore an' cursed at my ill luck.

  "'Ay, my lad, but you're right;' an' turnin', I saw an ould man wi' darkeyes an' a coat of black furs stannin' beside me.

  "'I've seen i' the Bible,' said I, 'that man was gi'en "dominion owerthe beasts o' the earth an' the fowls o' the air," but I canna do as I'dwush wi' thae cursed geese ower there.'

  "'Verra richt; ye're verra richt, young man,' said he. 'What wud ye gieto be able to kill as mony fowl as ye list, an' never miss ava?'

  "It seemed as I were mad at th' thocht. 'I'd gie my saul,' said I.

  "'Well, hae your wish, laddie,' said he; 'it's a sma' penny fee for sodear a bargain;' and, turnin', I fand mysel' alone, an' not a saul uponthe ice, far or near. Weel, that day I killed birds until I had nae mairpouther an' grit-shot; an' ilka day I went I had the like luck; but mymin' was ill at ease, an' I grew sad, an' dared na gae to prayers, orthe kirk; for then hell seemed to yawn under me. At last they said I wasmad, an' I went awee tae th' 'sylum yonder i' th' town, an' then I gatsome sleep; an' ane nicht I saw in a dream a woman a' in white, an' shelaid her cool, moist han' on my hot forehead, an' tauld me she wouldsave me yet. 'It was th' auld enemy that ye forgathered wi' on th' ice,an' ye are his until ye can kill th' king o' th' geese; an' then ye kenwhaever carries his croun o' black an' white feathers can unnerstand th'language o' all fowl, an', wha' is more, call them to himsel', sae thathe canna' fail to hae his wull o' them. Then, laddie, ye wull hae earnedyoursel' th' penny-fee for whilk ye hae perilled your saul.

  "'But,' said she, 'my ain bairn, when ye hae won the croun, use it na'at all, though a' the fiends fra' hell tempted ye, but carry it to thekirkyard at mirk midnight; an' when ye hae cannily lichted a bit bleeze,burn the king's croun, an' say wha' I shall tell ye. "I gie back morethan I hae taken, an' I rest on Christ's smercy;" an' then shall ye besafe an' happy if ye fail na' to be constant in gude warks.'

  "Then, sirs, the vision faded, an' I woke calmer an' happier than formany a lang day; an' a few days after, they aye sent me hame, but thefolk say I've a bit bee in my bannet yet. But sin' that time, I haehunted a' I can. I get mony birds, an'," lowering his voice, "yesterdayI killed thretty-seven."

  A long whistle from the astonished Kennedy broke up the conference, andthe offended lunatic walked angrily away.

  "He hasn't had a gun until to-day, to my certain knowledge," saidKennedy; "and I saw him yesterday afternoon taking aim at a goose thathad lighted among his decoys, along the helve of his axe."

  "Well, well! No one believed him, of course; but, for Heaven's sake,when you express incredulity again,
wait until the lie is finished, if Iam in the party!" grumbled La Salle.

  "Well, never mind; he got through with the best part of it; and thegreat wonder is, how a distempered brain could imagine all thatimpossible but well-connected delusion."

  "Kennedy," said La Salle, with unusual gravity, "how can we decide thatit is all a delusion? Few men, indeed, have claimed to see the devil, towhom they sell themselves daily for trifles lighter than the hunter'smeed of unrivaled success; and who can say that the story of yondermadman is more or less than the fruit of the idle habits and unbridledtemper which burned up happiness, and consumed his reason? There are fewwho go mad who would have done so had they at the first governed anddenied themselves, and been content to enjoy in reason the benefits ofthe great Giver."

  "There is much that is true in what you say, and I've got a piece inthis very Tribune which bears on that point. I'll read it to you. Hangme if ever I saw the like! Where's Davies' ice-house? Is there a fogcoming up, or am I dizzy?"

  "O, that's nothing," said La Salle, laughing. "You're only goingblind--snow-blind, I mean. You know that Kane tells about his peopleusing goggles to prevent snow-blindness; and you left yours offyesterday and to-day."

  "Well, it's a curious thing. I can barely see you now; and I know Icould not find my way home to save my life. But what shall I do? Will itlast long?"

  "If I had but a handkerchief full of clay, I could cure it in half anhour; but lie down in the straw, and get your head under the half-deck,where you can see neither sun nor snow, and I think you will restyourself enough to see pretty well by the time we want to go home."

  But Kennedy was fated to lie in impatient helplessness during theremainder of the afternoon. Several fine flocks came in to the decoys;and La Salle, using the double-barrel first, and firing the hugeduck-gun at long range, killed three, and sometimes four, out of eachflock, while Kennedy groaned in anguish of spirit. At last he could bearit no longer.

  "Keep close, Kennedy; there's another flock coming, and the finest I'veseen this year. There's twenty at the least, and they're coming rightin."

  "Give me my gun, Charley. I can't see much, but I can a little, and Ican fire where I hear them call. This is my last day; for Patrick iscoming out to-night with the boys, and I go in with them. Where are thebirds now?"

  "Right dead to leeward. Ah-h-huk! ah-h-huk! Here they come, low down,and ready to light. Ah-h-huk! ah-h-huk! Now, Kennedy, can you see them?"

  "Yes; that is, I see something like flies in a black gauze net. Arethose geese?"

  "Yes, and close to us; so up and fire."

  Bang! bang! crashed the heavy double-barrel, with both reports nearlyblended in one, and Kennedy was driven back by the recoil against therear top board of the boat. Nearly bursting with laughter, La Salle"lined" the flock as they swung off, killing and wounding three.

  "Are you hurt, Kennedy?" he inquired, jumping out of the boat to catchthe wounded birds.

  "Dot buch, but by dose bleeds a little, a'd I've cut by lip. How baddyhave I killed, Charley? for I cad see dothing," inquired the victim,anxiously.

  "One, two, three, four, FIVE, by jingo! Faith, you've beat the crowd, sofar, this spring, and when you were stone-blind, almost, at that. Well,it's pretty dark, and we'd better be getting home now, I think."

  The geese were picked up, and, with the others,--about twenty inall,--were loaded upon the "taboggin," which the two hunters with somedifficulty drew through the drifts to the house where, on their arrival,they found that Pat had arrived from the city with some small stores,papers, letters, &c., but the boys had not accompanied him.

  "They'll be out on skates wid Carlo and his slid on Monday," he said."Now, Misther Kennedy, whiniver you're ready, ye'll find me to the forein the kitchen."

  "Mr. Kennedy mustn't go until he gives us a story in his turn. Now themoon rises to-night, at about nine o'clock, and it will be muchpleasanter and safer on the ice by moonlight. What say you, Pat?"

  "Faith, I'm agreeable, and I'd a little rather, to tell the truth; forthere's an ugly bit of road across the Pint there."

  "Well, Kennedy will have time to eat supper, and then we'll have hisstory, when it will be time for us to go to bed, and just right for himto start for town."

  "Or, in other words," said La Salle, "it will be 'time for honest folkto be abed, and rogues on the road.'"

  All sat down to supper, including Pat, to whom a plate of roast gooseand two or three cups of strong, hot, black tea were very refreshingafter his ten-mile drive; and then, after the little preparations forthe next day's shooting, and Kennedy's little arrangements for hisdeparture, the little group gathered round the blazing hearth, andKennedy, with some little hesitation, began the story of

  "A NIGHT OF PERIL.

  "I am but a short man, and, as my time is short, you must not complainif my story is short, too.

  "I am not so imaginative as the captain; I haven't pestered all the oldmen and women of the island to death for legends and stories, like myfriend Charley here, who will surely bore you to death when his turncomes; I am sure I cannot make you laugh as Hughie and Mr. Risk havedone with their very interesting narratives, and I can only detail alittle adventure which I unexpectedly got into on this coast lastsummer, and which I as unexpectedly got out of alive."

  "You mean your crossing the straits in a sixteen-foot boat?" saidCaptain Lund. "I want to hear about that myself."

  "Well, in the early part of last August, my wife and I decided to visitsome friends, who reside a few miles up the River Jean, on the oppositeside of the straits, I suppose about twenty miles from here. We couldreach no port by steamer that was nearer our destination than Pictou,and there remained a long, tedious stage ride when we got there. Iconcluded to take a boat, and procured of Frank Stanley a littlerow-boat, with a spritsail for running before the wind; for I intendedto choose my own time for crossing. We set out from C. early onemorning, and arrived in the afternoon after a very pleasant passage, andwe enjoyed our visit to that section very much.

  "After waiting a day or two for a fair wind down the river, we set sail,but, owing to the lightness of the breeze, were nearly all the afternoonin getting down. Still, on reaching the harbor, I determined to proceed,as the lights on both shores could be plainly seen, and I did not liketo lose a favorable wind.

  "Accordingly I put boldly out, heading for Point Prime Light, althoughmy mind misgave me a little as I got clear of the lee of the land; forthe sea rose rapidly, and a tremendous breeze, each moment growingstronger, carried us on with frightful rapidity. When we were about halfway across, the wind was blowing a gale, and it was only for a moment,while on the crest of the waves, that I could see the light for which Iwas steering.

  "The spray was breaking over us so that my wife had to bale continuallyto keep our craft free, and I dared not leave the helm to lessen sail,although I expected that each slat of the canvas, as we took the wind onthe crest of a wave, would run us under, or carry away the mast, andleave us at the mercy of the waves.

  "On we went before the breeze, darting down into the hollow between twoseas, toiling heavily up the next wave, with death apparently closebehind on the crests of two or three pursuing breakers, and then, with apuff which made every timber and plank quiver, the gale would almostlift us through a breaking wall of white foam, and, with more or less ofthe sea aboard, away we would go down the incline, a plaything of aboat, with a frightened little man at the tiller, and a little womanbaling incessantly, with nerves that never gave way for a moment in ourlong struggle for life.

  "I felt that if I could get that sprit down we were safe; but my wifedared not attempt it, and she would not trust herself at the tiller.Fortunately the boat steered 'very small,' and seizing my opportunity, Iset the tiller amidships, darted forward, cleared the end of the spritfrom its becket, and got back just in time to meet her as she began tobroach to, on the crest of a wave, which nearly half filled us withwater.

  "I felt now as if we were safe; for no longer cumbered with a
press ofsail, we shipped less water, and had a better chance to lay out ourcourse. Keeping Point Prime Light, as I supposed, well to starboard, Iheaded up the bay, seeking to make the Blockhouse Light, when suddenly Isaw the coast dead ahead, and a bar, which must have been the West Bar,which I dared not attempt to cross.

  "I therefore bore away until I made a harbor, and running in, got aboarda vessel, from whose captain I learned that we had mistaken theBlockhouse Light for that on Point Prime, and had at last made CrapaudRiver."

  "Leaving the boat to be brought around by the next steamer, we drove upto town the next day, and found, to our surprise, that we had crossedclose on the heels of that hurricane, which unroofed so many buildings,and uprooted so many trees. I consider that passage as the most stirringincident in my short life, gentlemen, and in the language of an oldstory, 'my wife thinks so, too.'"

  * * * * *

  "And you may well think so, Mr. Kennedy," said Lund. "For all the moneyin the banks of C. wouldn't tempt me to run the risk, the almostcertainty, of death, I mean, that you two did. Your wife is a bravewoman, sir, and there are very few men who would have borne themselvesas she did."

  "Well, gentlemen, I see Pat is ready, and I must bid you good night.Charley, I'll give the boys the list of things you want them to bringout Monday. I suppose you'll get through in a couple of weeks, and comeback to civilized life. Good night."

  Followed by a dozen expressions of adieu and goodwill, the travellersentered the sleigh, and drove merrily off on the ice. Charley stoodstill a moment alone in the moonlight, listening to the last tinkle ofthe bells as they died away in the distance.

  "What nonsense to stand here bareheaded, and getting cold! and yet itseems as if something urged me to go back to the city. Yet, why should Idread anything here? or rather, why should I fear anything with such aprospect as I have before me?"

  He turned, and entered the house; a dainty letter from his betrothed,brought that night from the city, lay upon his breast; but honey andgall mingled strangely in its offerings, and many a bitter word boreheavy on his heart. No one of all that merry party was readier for song,or jest, or manly sport, than he; and yet he, too, had his share of thatbitter cup which mortals call sorrow.