by Gerard Doran
“We miss Father, too,” said Dan as he hauled on his coat. “Now, Mother, don’t you worry about wood or candles or anything else. We’re not going to run away and leave you alone.”
“Except when ye goes to the seal hunt.” She looked at her sons.
“Mother, we’re not on with Baine Johnston yet.” Dan sat down next to her. “We needs to go to the seal hunt. If the salmon or cod prices aren’t that good this summer, we’re going to have a rough go of it.”
“That’s right,” Din said, back from the linny. He put a pile of junks in the woodbox. “Dan and I are going to see Baine Johnston at the end of the month and tell them we’ll sign on with them before they change their minds.” He closed the lid of the woodbox with a slam. “We got to sign on soon, because every time I see Watt Power or John Whelan on the road, it’s the same question. ‘Have you and Dan signed on with them yet?’” Din hunched his back, mimicking Watt, and strutted across the kitchen. “Sometimes I wonder what would be worse—risk being frozen to death on the ice or not go at all and starve to death in the spring of the year.” He took a junk of wood and jammed it in the stove. “I thinks I’m going to move to Torbay soon. Getting tired of beating the trails over there to Mass every Sunday. I’m fed up not having our own church.”
“Now, my son, if you moves to Torbay, you’ll have to row for them. Watt Power would love to hear that, wouldn’t he?” Ellen let out a belly laugh and hugged Din.
“Rowing, rowing. Why is it that you can’t step two paces in this cove without them saying something about the rowing? I wish someone would pay me to row. At least I’d make a few dollars at it.”
“I hear there’s riverboats in London that takes passengers. You want to move there, Din, b’y? Me and you in a small boat, we could move a few fares with a two-man crew.”
“You’re codding me. McCarthy’s boat for hire. Gets you to your destination in record time!” There was a roar of laughter from his brother. “Dan, let’s not wait until Monday to go to town. Let’s go tomorrow. I got to get some new rope at Neal’s for the killicks. Fifty fathoms at least, and then we can go straight to Baine Johnston. I knows Mr. Marshall gave us until the end of February to sign on, but we might as well get it over with now. Suppose Watt Power will go off his head if we don’t row with the cove,” said Din. He and his brother sat at the table, gobbling down as much porridge, salt fish, and bread as they could contain.
“Think about this when you’re out rolling on the sea in March.” Ellen stood over them, waving the teapot. “Want more?”
“No, Mother. Got to get going.” Dan jumped up from the table and went to get his boots.
“Goddamn silver thaw. I hates it,” said Din as he and Dan hitched up the horse to the sleigh. The ground was as slippery as a beach full of caplin and the trees were covered in ice.
“The fog is creeping in over the hills. It’s going to turn mild and this will melt. Thank God.” Dan picked up Belle’s feet and checked her hooves. Her winter shoes with their studs were still in good condition.
“I suppose Neal’s aren’t going to cause a racket when I goes there and asks for credit for that rope, will they?” Din asked.
“They might, but we don’t owe them nothing from last year.”
“But suppose they’re owed too much by other people?”
Dan shook his head. “Credit . . . what a crooked way to make a dollar.”
“I can’t wait to go to the hunt,” said Din. “Hopes we hit a big patch right away.”
“Let’s go, Belle.” Dan slapped the reins. The mare’s shoes gripped the icy path and the sleigh jolted toward town.
It was well before noon when they turned onto Duckworth Street. Horses and men slipped along the icy streets, the manure making them even more treacherous. The port city in winter was cold and dirty. Dan waited outside Neal’s for Din, watching the spectacle that was St. John’s.
“Good news, Dan, good news,” said Din as he jumped in the sleigh. “Mr. Neal said there won’t be a problem getting the rope when the salmon fishery opens. He took my order. I told him we had berths for the hunt, and he took that as a sign that we’d be good to pay up. We’d better head up and see Mr. Marshall.”
Dan spat his wad of tobacco into a snowbank already sullied with coal dust, horse piss, and manure. “By the looks of the crowd around town, I think we made the right move coming out today instead of waiting until Monday. Never seen the like of it. We’d best tie up the mare at Haymarket Square and walk up to Ayres Cove.”
The commotion outside Baine Johnston’s office was being made by an assembly of rough-looking men. The atmosphere was near fever pitch as more men lined up to meet with the company representative. The younger they were, the dirtier they looked; they used dirt to disguise their age, and it often worked. Men, especially young men, were desperate for money. They had weighed the dangers of the hunt against the risk of being broke for months ahead and had decided to throw in their lot with the hunt.
“Please don’t come into the office in groups larger than two,” said the clerk. “Give Mr. Marshall your last name and tell him where you are from. Now, stop the pushing and shoving. I will let you in the office two at a time. Do you hear me?” The clerk, a short, stout man with uneasy eyes, held them back. He plucked up his courage, which took fuel from his anxiety. “What a rancid smell. When was the last time you men washed?”
Dan and Din had been through this before. Each year the same mayhem ensued. They waited in line and entered the warm office together. Photographs and paintings of sealing ships hung precisely on the walls. A fine pair of leather boots had been placed to dry next to the stove. A thin man sat behind the desk smoking a cigarette. The brothers gave their names.
“You’re not signing on with this company,” said Marshall, as he picked up the pen and tipped back the chair.
“What? Sure, you told us before Christmas we were certain to get berths on your ship.” Din had turned blood red and was advancing toward the desk. Hearing his raised voice, the clerk turned away from the door and looked at Din. Perhaps they would have to send one of the boys for a constable. It had been necessary before.
“All I can tell you is that you’re not going to the hunt on the Southern Cross. Now, you had better go see Mr. Halley at Bowring’s right away. I’m busy. I’ve got to see the rest of those men.”
“Mr. Marshall,” said Dan, shocked and confused. “You got to tell us what’s going on. What’s this about Bowring’s?”
“You’d better move along.” The clerk motioned them out, and they went. Two more men slipped in as Dan and Din left. The clerk grimaced at them as soon as their backs were through the door. Dirty baymen.
The brothers half walked and half ran up Water Street to Steers’s Cove, stumbling and bumping into other people who were trying to keep their footing on the slippery sidewalks. When they reached Bowring’s office, they pushed past the waiting men.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” a haggard-faced fellow yelled. “I’ve been waiting here all morning. Get back in the goddamn line.” The crowd started murmuring, which soon turned into a sound like the rumble of a large, angry cat. A passing constable slowed and then stopped. He stared at the men through narrowed eyes, tapping his stick against his leg. The noise died down.
Din and Dan brushed by the clerk, who grabbed ineffectually at their coats, muttering furiously. They slowed down and entered Halley’s office.
The man behind the desk raised his head from the papers spread over it. “You look like twins. The McCarthy brothers?”
“Yes, sir. I’m Din, and this is my brother, Dan. We were told to come here.”
“That’s right. You have berths aboard the Aurora. That’s an order from Mr. Bowring, Mr. Edgar Bowring.” Din and Dan looked at each other in amazement. “You board her on March 7. Captain Kean is expecting you. Now sign h
ere.” He passed them the register.
Chapter
13
The tiny wooden beads slipped through Ellen’s small hands. It was Saturday night and she had just completed the Joyful Mysteries. Din and Dan didn’t spend much time at home in the evenings like they used to. And now the seal hunt was looming—both of them gone at the same time, on the same ship. She stopped rocking and held the beads to her breast. She often woke at night wondering if the boys were safe at home. Sometimes they were and sometimes they weren’t, but they always came home eventually. Her body trembled. She began to rock again, trying to stem the gloomy thoughts. She began to pray again, fighting the loneliness. Every once in a while she got up to stoke the fire. The sound of the burning wood was her greatest comfort during the long, cold winter nights. She wished for June and the summer fishery, the long days and short nights. Her sons would leave for the traps before dawn and be back for breakfast. Now they were going off to the icefields in the dead of winter. Long days on the pans for them, longer nights in the cove for her. It was only two years ago that all those men from the Greenland died, frozen to death in the night after they got separated from their ship. And not ten years since the Trinity Bay disaster. One hundred or more landsmen hunting seals in the bay when a blizzard came up; there had been a score or more of widows and orphans out of that one. She went to the woodbox and took out the dry spruce to feed her fire.
“When the bishop blesses the fleet, make sure you are both blessing yourself, too. You’ll need every blessing and lots of good luck out there on the ice.” Ellen tried to keep her hands steady as she helped her sons pack their boxes of supplies, filling them with extra woollen mitts, socks, and whatever else would help keep them warm and dry. She looked out the kitchen window at one point. There was a young, black-haired woman heading toward the house. “Dan, there’s Liz coming up the lane.” She turned to him and squeezed his arm. “I hopes you comes back in one piece. She’s a fine young woman, and the two of ye are a grand match.”
“Mother, I knows a thing or two about a thing or two,” said Dan. “Liz and I are pretty content. You don’t mind her staying around until we leaves to go out to the ship? You don’t mind that, do you?”
“Not at all, my son, not at all.”
“We better get going soon, Mother,” said Din. “We can let Liz off in Logy Bay and then us three can go on to town.”
“Not likely, Din. Sure, what are you thinking? Liz is coming to town with us, and then she’ll drive back with Mother. Mother would like a bit of company—you knows the way women are. They likes to have a gab.” He laughed and lunged away from Ellen, who had picked up the broom and was shaking it at him.
“All right, b’y. No need to start a racket. Our mare can haul a half a dozen people in that sleigh,” said Din. “Sara is going to meet us at the docks. One less body to bring to town.” He rolled his eyes, slapped Dan on the side of the head, and grinned.
The winter snow, solidly packed along Logy Bay Road, made an easy haul for Belle. She sped along, the bells on the sleigh tinkling cleanly in the clear air. Smoke rose straight up from the chimneys of the sparsely spaced houses.
There was barely room for Belle and the slide beside the pier where the Aurora was docked. “Where’s that Sara to?” Din paced, never taking his eyes off the crowd at the docks. Hundreds of men with their boxes of supplies milled about.
“This place is busier than the regatta,” Dan said.
Many sealers had come from far-flung bays to be part of the annual ritual. Their journeys would be the stuff of stories told at night in the holds of the steamers after a day of killing seals. The youngest men from the outharbours, in their late teens, seemed both excited and fearful—no girlfriends or mothers in St. John’s to wish them a safe voyage and good luck at the hunt.
“There she is.” Din stood up in the slide and waved frantically at a slight, fair-haired girl in a woollen cape and cap. “Over here!” he shouted.
“Where were you, Din? I thought you’d never show up.” Sara pouted at Din.
“Oh, don’t fuss me, love. Poor Belle had to haul the four of us out over the road. Not that easy, even for a young mare.” Din leaned ahead and patted Belle’s flank.
Sara sniffed the cold air loudly and then ran to Din as he got down from the sleigh. They both lost their balance on the ice. “Mother of God, Din, be careful out there, will you? I thinks about the danger all the time.” She covered his lips and face with kisses.
Scores of men lined the docks waiting for Bishop Howley to arrive and bestow the church’s blessing upon the sealers for a safe return.
“Now, Sara. I’ll be back before you know it, and we’ll be ordering windows for our house.” Din took her arms and held her a few inches away from him so he could get a breath. But it wasn’t long before she had her arms around his neck again. Passersby laughed, and Din felt the heat come into his face. He wriggled away and looked at the harbour.
But she was relentless. “I prays you’ll do well on the Aurora, Din. But mostly I prays you’ll come home alive and in one piece.” She pulled him to her again. Her body was warm, and he could almost taste the lavender water she had put behind her ears. His legs suddenly felt limp.
Ellen looked at Dan and Liz, who were in each other’s arms in the rear seat of the sleigh. “Now, you two. In public! I never saw the like. Time to get going.”
“How many days do you think you’ll be gone?” Liz asked.
“Twenty. Maybe less if we strike a big patch right away.”
“Twenty days,” she moaned.
“I got to go aboard, Liz.” He kissed her again. “I wished I could just take you in my mouth like a dog and carry you with me.”
Liz shivered. “Dan, Dan, watch out for yourself. Mind you don’t do nothing foolish.”
Northerly gales pounded the cove for the second day. The windows of every home had been masked with snow by the blast of the late winter blizzard. The McCarthys were among a dozen men from Outer Cove who had gone to the hunt. The other men in the rowing crew visited Ellen often. Martin Boland and Jack Nugent often came together, checking on the animals in the barn, bringing Ellen water from the well, and filling the woodbox. For the last two nights, however, she had been a prisoner in her own house. She had slept badly, waking often and praying for the safe return of her sons.
They had been gone for nearly two weeks. If they had hit the seals and done well, that would add to the weight of the ship. The captains of the vessels were under orders to take as many pelts as they could load, but a fully-loaded ship in heavy seas was a disaster in the making. She hoped their skipper knew the limits of his boat in all weathers.
Watt made his way down O’Rourke’s Lane through the snowdrifts until he decided it was easier to go through the open meadow, where the snow had mostly blown away. He struggled up to Ellen’s door, pushing the snow away from it with his boot. She was sitting in the kitchen, a cup of tea between her hands.
“Dear Lord, Watt. I’m nearly out of my mind stuck in the house alone. Do you think they survived this storm? I haven’t slept one solid hour for the past two nights.”
Ellen’s blue eyes were red with fatigue. She seemed to have aged since Watt last saw her. He felt a sudden surge of pity. Women had it hard, so they did.
“If they’re in the ice pack and they don’t get rammed with the raftering ice, they should be fine,” said Watt. “You got to hope that they weren’t in open water with that gale. Safer to be stuck in the ice than fighting the swell. Bowring’s got a good skipper with Kean. If anyone can make it through heavy seas, he can.”
“I can’t take this not knowing nothing. There must be some news getting into town. Can you give me a hand to hitch up Belle to the sleigh? I got to get into town today and try to get some word on the fleet.”
“Mrs. McCarthy, even though the storm’s over, it will be a rough
go to get to town in this mess. Do you want me to go with you?”
“Liz will go with me. I’m miserable company right now, but she won’t mind.”
The waters outside the Narrows gleamed white with pack ice, and a brisk east wind kept any warmth from the blinding sun at bay. The month of March was more generous with light than February, but the cold air offered little comfort. As the mare and sleigh clipped past the Prince’s Rink in the east end of St. John’s, Ellen snapped the reins to encourage the mare to trot more quickly. The streets became busier and busier, with pedestrians and box carts, horses, sleighs, and more horses. Shopkeepers and passersby were standing on the sidewalks talking, their faces looking drawn. There seemed to be tension in the air. Ellen shivered involuntarily. She waved to Mr. Burke, who was standing in front of his shop, but he didn’t seem to notice her.
A chorus of paperboys stood at a street corner. “Sealing ship missing!” cried the biggest of the four ragged lads on the corner, waving a copy of one of the morning papers.
Ellen felt as if she had been hit in the face. She passed the reins to Liz, who had barely said a word during their entire journey. The girl whimpered as Ellen got down from the sleigh.
“Boy, boy,” Ellen called. “Which ship? Which ship?”
