Adrift in the Ice-Fields
Page 9
CHAPTER VII.
A CHANGE IN THE WEATHER.--BREAKING UP OF THE ICE.--JIM MOUNTAIN'S FIGHTWITH THE DEVIL.
The boys awoke somewhat disappointed the next morning, for the heavyrain was falling, and the wind blew hard from the south-east, so that noone in his senses would think of facing such discomfort for the sake ofsport.
"Don't look blue, George," said La Salle; "we've enough to do to preparefor the open water, which this gale will probably lead up to the outeredge of the bar, at least. There's the float to be painted and fitted,and the floating decoys to be put in order; and while I use the whitepaint, you and Regnie must rope and repair the decoys."
Accordingly the four sought the barn, whither Ben and Creamer hadpreceded them on a similar errand. La Salle's boat was a flat-bottomed"sculling-float," twelve feet long by three feet beam, and ten inchesdeep, with a hole through the stern-board, through which, with a short,crooked oar, a man could silently propel himself within shot of a flockof fowl. Davies's boat aimed at the same end in another way, being alarge side-wheel paddle-boat, propelled by cranks, for two persons. Bothboats were painted white, so as to be indistinguishable from thefloating ice at a little distance. Besides these two, there were adouble boat with centre paddle-wheel, and a side-wheel worked by thefeet on the velocipede principle, belonging on the island.
The forenoon was spent as proposed, and as the bad weather still held, atarget was set up for practice with the rifle, and many excellent shotswere made from the great door of the barn. At last, however, theimpatience of the party overcame all fears of exposure, and, donningtheir water-proof clothing, all went down to the East Bar to watch itseffect on the ice.
The huge floe had given way at last, and broken into many floatingislets of varied size, had become a scene of life and animation, instriking contrast to its late icy desolation. In every direction geese,singly and in flocks, fed along the edges of the still immovable innerice-fields; swam placidly among the narrow leads, or in huge bodiesblackened the open pools or the projecting points of ice. Among them,too, wheeled many flocks of clamorous brent, while, from time to time,the desolate cry of the Moniac duck, or the shrill, monotonous, stridentflight of the "Whistler" warned the sportsmen that new visitants wereabout to greet their vision.
"You will have to change your location, Risk," said Lund, who hadaccompanied them; "for you must shoot on the water-line, now the ice hasopened."
"Davies and I go home to-morrow," answered he. "I regret to leave withsuch a prospect before us, but business presses; and besides, there arenew dangers now which I care not to face."
"Ay, ay! you're right, Mr. Risk," said Lund; "and although I am glad tohave you around me, I shall be glad this year when I see the last of yousafely across the Western Bar."
"There, there, Lund," said Risk; "they're young, smart, have good boats,and, what is more, know well how to use them; and if I were less clumsyand old, I would no more fear any danger here than I would at home.Don't frighten the young lads with your nonsense, but let us get home tosupper, and, as it is our last night together, have a cosy evening inthe kitchen, and a good story from Ben and Charley here."
The proposition was acceded to, and after supper, Ben, with littleurging, commenced a legend of the North Shore, even now related by thefarmers around the winter's hearth with full faith in its veracity. Hetermed it by its local name
"JIM MOUNTAIN'S FIGHT WITH THE DEVIL."
"Fifty years ago Jim Mountain, of Goose Creek, was as stout and jovial ayoung farmer of twenty-five, as there was in his section. No ship-launchframe-raising, logging-bee, or dance, was considered complete withouthim, and while his strength was almost equal to that of any two of hiscompanions, his merry laugh was so infectious that even envy couldn'tresist joining in, when public opinion pronounced him 'the best man inthe county.'
"He soon married the daughter of a well-to-do farmer, and then, for thefirst time, it appeared that his love of 'divershin' and whiskey, hadgrown by what it fed on, and poor Mary dreaded the approach ofmarket-day, as he seldom returned from the shire town altogether sober,and often not until late into the next day.
"It was in vain that his blooming Mary entreated, coaxed, cried, andthreatened; he never lost his temper; often, indeed, promised amendment,but did in the end about the same as usual. At last the merchant withwhom he traded, a man of some little medical knowledge, finished theirbusiness interview with the following bit of advice:--
"'Jim, it's none of my business, but you are ruining your health andbreaking your wife's heart. You are not one of the kind that show howmuch they do drink; but no man in your district can match you, and whenyou do get sick, I shan't expect to see you alive.'
"'An' do ye think so, then, Mr. B.?'
"'I am almost sure of it, for Long Tom Cunningham, the big shipcarpenter that you've heard your father tell of, was just such a man,and the first touch of "the horrors" carried him off.'
"'Well, sir, I'm much obliged for your good will, any how, and after mycousin Johnny McGrath has his bit of a spree, I'll try and leave it offfor a while, any way.'
"Johnny McGrath's 'spree,' a fulling-frolic, came off one Saturdaynight, about a fortnight after this; and while the web of strong, coarsehomespun cloth, which was to furnish Mac and his boys with their year'sstock of outer clothing, was being duly lifted, rubbed, banged on abench, and twisted by the strong hands of about thirty men and women,Jim led the roaring choruses, and manipulated his end of the cloth witha vigor which at once delighted and alarmed the fair weaver thereof.
"In the dancing and whiskey-drinking which followed, Jim was in hiselement; and it was nearly midnight before the party broke up, and hewas left alone with the rest of his relative's household.
"'Well, Johnny,' said he, 'you've done the decent thing this time, andI'm glad my last spree has been at your place, for I'm going to quitgrog for a while. Give me a coal for my pipe, Jane, for it's late, andI've a good five miles' of beach atween me an' home.'
"'Is the man mad?' said Jane, good-naturedly. 'Surely, John, you'll notlet him out of the house to-night.'
"'No, no, Jim,' said McGrath, getting between him and the door; 'out ofthis you don't stir to-night; so sit down, have another drop, and tak' aquiet night's rest.'
"'Come, John, don't anger or hinder me, for I feel strangely to-night,and I must go home.'
"'Faith, that's all the more reason I have to keep you here. Come, sitdown, you obstinate fellow, and don't be waking the wife up just beforedaybreak, only to let in a man that must be out walking all night.Confound it, would you hit me, Jim? Sure, now, you're not angered--areyou?'
"'No, I'm not angry; but I'll not be treated like a child, nor lectered,neither. Let me go, I tell you, or there'll be ill blood between us.Home I'll go, I tell you!' shouted the excited man. 'Home I'm going,_although the devil tried to stop me_;' and flinging his cousin aside asif he were a child, he rushed out of the house, and took a narrow pathwhich led down to the moonlit sea-beach.
"About an hour after, a despairing cry at the door awakened McGrath andhis wearied household, and, opening it, they found a bruised, bloody,and literally naked man, lying senseless on the threshold. With somedifficulty they recognized the features of Mountain, and it was broaddaylight before he came to himself. His story was short, but strange.
"'I took the path down to the beach, thinking to wade the narrow run atEel Pond, and so save a mile or two of road. It was light as day, and Iwent along well enough, though I felt sad-like, an' as if somethin' wereabout to happen me.
"'It's an unchancy place there, near the pond, where the great san'-hillblew over the birch grove an' killed the trees; and last night, as Iwent through them, the tall, white, broken trunks seemed almost alive.Why, man, I'd have sworn that some of them had a dozen faces grinnin'and laughin', and I felt all the while as if I was a fool; for, wheneverI stopped an' looked close, there was nought but knots, an' bark, an'gnarly limbs. Still, although I'd been through them a thousan' times, Ifelt afraid, for it seemed
to me as if there was somebody near me _thatI couldn't see_.
"'Well, at last I got through the dead grove, an' came to the san'-plainwher' the ribs of the old ship are stannin', an' I got to thinkin' whatshe might hev' bin, fer none o' us know how many years she lay in thesan' before the great gale swept the san' off of her white bones. Ilooked at her close as I passed, an' although I saw nauthin' but herribs, she made me think o' a 'natomy; an' I looked all around, but sawno one, an' went down into the water, hevin' first ta'en off my shoes.
"'The cool water did feel nice; an' as I stepped ashore, I whistled up"The Devil's Dream," an' struck out across the beach, when, lookingback, I saw, between me an' the stream, a man who made at me withterrible ferceness. I can tell you nauthin' about him, 'cept that hisclothes were black an' strange, his face dark an' savage, an' his eyesalmost like fire. I had no doubt that he meant me harm, an' as he cam'up, I struck out wi' all my strenth. Ye mind when I hit big Jack Ready,an' thought I should have to flee the country. Well, I hit _him_ twicetas hard, an' he never stopped, but came in an' clinched. My God! I'mbreathless now wi' the squeezin' I got there. I'm afraid of no manstandin' within twenty mile, at ayther Ingin hug, collar an' ilbow, orside-hold, but I was like a child in its grip.
"'Still I fought on, though the san' flew into the air; an' through it,like a fog, I saw the old wrack an' the dead grove, an' the fiery eyesthat glared into mine, an' I felt the grasp of a han' that seemed toburn into my hip; an' then I knew I couldn't fight fair wi' _that_. Idrew my knife an' opened it, an' three times I thrust it to the hiltinto the side o' the black man, or devil, an' he only glared at mefercer, an' took a stronger hold on my hip. Just at this moment I feltthe cool water at my feet, an' wi' one tremendous effort, I whirledmyself into the stream to fight it out there. A moment I lay on my backin the shallow stream, an' then I rose to my feet. I was alone wi'nauthin' o' what had happened, save the open knife in my han', thetrampled beach, an' my torn an' ruined clawthin'.
"'Then I remembered that old McGregor used to say that nauthin' badcould pass runnin' water, an' I thought I'd get back to ye if I could. Iremember somethin' of tearin' through the lonely beach an' blastedwoods, of seein' more faces in the trees, an' hearin' quick footsteps onmy track, but I remember nauthin' more. Look at my hip, will you, wi'the cannle there? It hurts me awfully.'
"The candle fell from Jane's shaking hands, but was caught by herhusband before it was extinguished.
"'As God lives, ye have spoken the truth, for there is the mark o' thedevil's grip;' and greatly to the terror of all, there appeared on thehip of the exhausted man the black imprint of a thumb and four fingers.
"My informant told me that, fifty years later, after Mountain had raiseda large family of children, and passed a life subsequently innocent ofhis youthful excesses, the same indelible marks were left to tell of theterrible conflict of that memorable night; and none of his neighborsever doubted the literal truth of his strange story, save one.
"That man was B., who never undeceived Mountain, or tried to do so; butin detailing the story to my father, closed the recital thus: 'I havealways thought that he had an attack of delirium tremens, and that hefancied the assault of the goblin; for I forgot to tell you that nextmorning they followed his track, finding his shoes and fragments of hisattire on the opposite side of the run, which was torn up, with themarks of a terrible struggle and many feet. Probably he tore off his ownclothes in the fancied fight, drew his knife, struck at "an air-bornfantasy," and was finally partially restored by falling into the water,after which he completed his exhaustion by running back to the house.'
"'Have you seen the marks?' asked my father.
"'Yes; I saw them at the time,' slowly answered Mr. B.
"'Were they as described?'
"'Very like the grip of a hand; one dark impression on the back of theleft hip, and four smaller ones in a row on the front,' said B.
"'And how do you account for those?' asked my father.
"Mr. B. hesitated, and then answered candidly, 'I don't know what tothink of that myself. I have sometimes thought that a fall among themany roots and fallen trunks of trees, which then strewed that desolateplace, may have caused such injuries; but why did they remain apparentlong after discolorations of such a nature should have disappeared?Perhaps imagination may have had its effect, and made the impressionsindelible. But if there _is_ any truth in old-world stories, few placesfitter for such horrors can be found than was that drear waste of sand,destitute of all signs of man's proximity, bounded on one side by ablackened forest, on the other by the sailless sea, and containing onlythe whitened ribs of a long-forgotten wreck. None of the folk aroundhere, sir, join in my doubts as to the reality of Mountain's fight withthe devil.'"
* * * * *
As Ben closed, a sound of sleigh-bells came up the road, and Lund openedthe door, at which appeared a light sleigh driven by one of Risk's sons.
"You and uncle are wanted in town at once. L. has sent you this letter,and says--" And he whispered a few words in his father's ear.
"I came out to-night, for the ice is getting very bad, and a horse waslost crossing the North River at Duckendorff's to-day. It is freezingto-night, but the moon shows at times through the clouds, and we can gethome before one o'clock."
An hour later, Risk and the elder Davies bade a regretful farewell totheir young companions. "I am sorry," said the former, "that as yet wehave had no story from you, La Salle; but I hope to see you at my housein C., and hear it there when your trip is over. Take care of yourself,and make Lund out a false prophet. Good night, captain, you oldcroaker;" and the sleigh disappeared in the shadows of theforest-covered lane which led to the beach.
"Well, boys," said La Salle, "the best of our evenings are over, and wemust look to boat and gun for our best sport."
"We must have your story, though," said Ben.
"O, of course; but not to-night, for we have much to do to-morrow, toget our boats down for the open-water shooting."
With this no one disagreed; and half an hour later, all were fastasleep.