A Stroke in Time

by Gerard Doran

“Don’t know, missus. I can’t read. The paper is one cent to buy.” He began to walk away.

  “Come here, come back here.” The boy turned around obediently. Ellen reached for the copy he was holding out toward her. Before it reached her hands, she saw the large, bold print: No Sight of Southern Cross. Panic choked her as she snatched the paper and scanned the small print below the headline. The Baine Johnston ship had not been seen for some time, according to the ships that had returned. She quickly looked for the Aurora in the list of returning ships. There it was. Relief came quickly, her rapid heartbeat the only reminder that for a few minutes she had been sure her world had come to an end. She gave the boy his penny, and suddenly found herself putting her arms around him. He stank, but she didn’t care. He was her angel of deliverance.

  Chapter

  14

  “I never thought I’d be so happy to see the rain and fog again.” Dan ran the file through the teeth of the bucksaw. “Day after day, swinging a gaff until me arm nearly fell off. Almost blind from the sun on the ice.” He squinted hard and shuddered.

  “We’ll be complaining soon enough if we don’t get good weather,” replied Din as he hung the saw on the wooden dowel. They stepped out of the barn. Din looked down at the river. “Soon be time to set the salmon nets.”

  “Yes, and start rowing,” said Dan. “It’s a good way to get back at the fishing. At least you’re not hauling up a ton of fish every day, like the cod. I likes the look of salmon. They’re strong.” He rolled up the sleeve of his jacket to show his massive forearm. “Strong like me,” he laughed, and gently shoved his brother out of the way.

  “I hear the Southern Cross made it back to port safely. Shag all pelts in her hold. The b’ys only got twenty-two dollars each.” Din shook his head. “Stuck in pack ice off Baccalieu Island for ten days.”

  Dan picked up a large log and placed it on the sawhorse. “What are you going to buy with the money from the hunt?”

  “Let’s hope there’s some left after the bills are all squared.”

  “And if there is?”

  “Don’t know. You?”

  “I already spent most of mine.” Dan reached under his jumper and brought out a jeweller’s box, then quickly stowed it away again.

  Din laughed. “Might as well tell me what it is, before I tells you. A ring, I suspects.” Din grabbed Dan by the shoulders. “So, are we going to have a bit of a time someday soon?” He swung Dan around the yard and they both fell on the wet ground. “You’re getting married—I knows you are.” Din got to his feet and stamped the ground. “Liz is a grand girl, Dan. I’d have her meself, but I’m taken already, and you’re the next best fella to me around here.” He laughed again.

  “I never said I was getting married.” Dan had a huge grin on his face. He couldn’t hold his happiness inside any longer. “Don’t you go telling anyone yet. I got to go to Liz’s this evening. Tell her, I mean ask her. Talk to her father. Then I’ll come home and tell Mother.”

  “When are we going to celebrate? You got to have a time.”

  “Friday night. Now you be quiet for the rest of the day, you hear?”

  The celebration at the Mccarthy house began before darkness fell, and people came and went all throughout the night. There was a constant babble of voices.

  “When are ye two getting hitched?” asked a man from Middle Cove.

  “Are ye going to build a house next to your mother’s? Live in Logy Bay?” said someone.

  “I don’t know,” said Liz, throwing up her hands and laughing. She had been blushing and laughing all evening. “I only knows one thing. We won’t be getting married until that cursed race is over in August.”

  “Mother, don’t put any more wood in that stove or we’ll die with the heat,” Din yelled across the room.

  Someone had brought a fiddle, another an accordion. The dancing was going full tilt and the spruce beer was flowing. Black rum was making its way around the kitchen.

  “I’ll have a swig of that.” Mike Kinsella reached out and grabbed the bottle. He swallowed a mouthful, then coughed like death was near certain, before passing it on to the next fellow. “Do they think of me in Ireland?” he shouted, collapsing on the daybed.

  “If you’re either bit hungry, there’s a nice pot of rabbit stew on the stove. Grab a plate and dig in,” Ellen said to the crowd, shouting to be heard above the melee. “Lots of bread on the table, too, thanks to Kate Whelan. And pies and cakes—you needn’t be shy!” She was mostly ignored as the dancers and the talkers competed for space in the stifling kitchen. “Don’t break the floorboards with those big boots there, Boland.” Martin Boland danced a jig, urged on by the clapping hands of a house full of revellers.

  “I’m some glad the crew showed up, Dan,” said Din into his brother’s ear. “They’re not holding it against us, then.” He swayed a bit, clutched Dan’s arm, belched, and tried to unscramble his slurred speech. “All that racket about whether the crew would stay together. Lucky you was in Logy Bay when Watt and John showed up here St. Stephen’s Day. I never thought I’d ever speak to the two of them again.” The brothers clinked their glasses and emptied them in one swallow.

  Dan spotted Watt sitting on the woodbox and squeezed his way through the crowd to him. Watt leaned close to Dan and spoke. Suddenly, they both stood up. Dan beckoned to Liz. When she joined them, the three huddled together. Watt and Dan nodded and smiled at each other and held a handshake longer than Liz could bear to look.

  Dan took his hand from Watt’s and turned to face the crowd. After he’d let out a roar that made the room go quiet, he said, “Liz and me wants to thank all of ye for coming here tonight. And we’ll see ye all again at the wedding!” The kitchen erupted with applause and hearty calls. “Now, before we get back to the dancing, Watt Power has a few words to say.”

  Watt hauled himself up with the help of the warming closet on the stove. The kitchen grew still as he walked over and placed himself in front of the picture of Christ on the wall.

  “I don’t want to take anything away from the occasion tonight,” he said, nodding at Dan and Liz. “I wishes the happy couple the very best, as do we all. But I wants to say one thing now, and Liz won’t mind, will you, girl?” Liz shook her head, smiling at Watt. He shifted his eyes around the room, stopping briefly to look at each of the faces of the other six men in the crew. “This crew, with this man on stroke oar,” he said, pointing to John and slurring a little as he tugged at his greying beard, “will bust my record time in the Myrtle. We’ll do it for all of ye here tonight, for the whole cove.”

  “You’re the fella to lead them, Mr. Power,” Ellen called out. There were cheers, and then the party resumed, roaring on into the early morning.

  The break of dawn had passed hours before anyone in the McCarthy home stirred. Fog wrapped around the house like kelp clinging to the rocky shoreline.

  “Oh, my head,” Din cried out. “I got to get some pain medicine into the house before the wedding.” He buried his head in the daybed’s feather pillow.

  “You got to know when to quit. I seen ye with the jug full to the brim more than once last night.” Ellen was sweeping away the evidence of the many feet that had danced into the daylight hours. “Dan, aren’t you and Din going to the salmon berth draw tonight?”

  “That’s not tonight, is it, Mother?”

  “Yes, it is. You’d better get up and have something to eat. Get yourself straightened out.”

  The chill winds of March had been replaced by the milder southerly breezes of April. Din Croke slowly inched his way along the fence where he had hung his gillnet, checking it for holes and tears. He had just begun his inspection of the full sixty fathoms which stretched from his house to the woods near the Big River, measuring each opening in the mesh to make sure it was identical in size to the others. When necessary, he would guide a needle threade
d with manila twine through the net, securing each new piece with a knot tight enough to withstand the strength of a shark. Not that he ever wanted to see such a powerful fish, much less catch one.

  “Hello there, Croke,” said a voice behind him. He fastened another knot and turned. Watt Power was leaning against the side of the barn.

  “Watt, you’re a bit off course today. Thought you’d be over at Middle Cove beach getting your salmon nets ready.”

  “I’m all finished. Me nets were in pretty good shape.” Watt struck a match, lit his pipe, and walked to where Din was standing. “A small amount of mending. Two more weeks and we’ll be back on the water.”

  “You must have something on your mind, do you, b’y? What brings you here? You never came to talk about cattle.”

  “You’re pretty clever, Croke,” Watt said, laughing. “I was strolling back from the beach and I got to thinking. I had this idea—what with your salmon berth being right next to Martin Boland and Jack Nugent’s, and you being a lone hand at the nets.” He raised his eyebrows and took a deep draw from his pipe.

  He walked up to the net-covered fence and touched the twine, passing his fist though the openings. “You’re a big man. I needs a strong fella like you in the middle of the boat, right behind Din McCarthy. That way, I’ll have the biggest men where it counts, in the middle of the shell where the crew’s weight is felt the most. You’ll be number three oar.

  “I needs you to get used to following someone in a boat. Not Whelan, just some experienced hands. So here’s my plan.” He twirled his long whiskers. “How do you feel about sharing a boat with Nugent or Boland when you goes out after the salmon?” Watt drew closer to Croke, trying to gauge his reaction. “Here’s how I sees it. They shares the same boat and you have your own. So one day you rows out to the nets with Nugent, the next day with Boland. Whichever one you’re not rowing with can take your boat. You’ll row every day, get used to following a good man and used to the timing of the blades.” Watt held his hands in front of him and moved them rhythmically up and down like slicing swords. “When the salmon is over, we’ll start practising on Quidi Vidi.”

  Croke smacked his hands together. “I likes your idea. Make no wonder they calls you the wise man. I gets a bit bored out on the water alone sometimes. And it’s much easier to haul nets with two men, especially when the sea’s rough. But did you ask Martin and Jack about me rowing with them?”

  Watt looked away. He walked along the rock boundary wall, pretending to check the fenceposts for firmness. “Don’t worry, my son. They’re eager to have you in the boat. I knows they never said nothing when your name was brought up at the liver house after Jack Doran said he couldn’t row. That’s just their way. If it had to come to a vote between you and Pine, they’d have picked you.” He placed his hand on Croke’s shoulder. “Since you’re agreeable to the plan, I’ll have them convinced by the end of the day. No trouble at all.” He took a puff from his pipe. A small blue trail of smoke drifted away and disappeared.

  John and Martin tipped the boat over, revealing the open seams of its smooth var bottom. “You done a fine thing, taking in young Tommy Slater,” said Martin. “I don’t know what would’ve become of him but for you two. Orphanage, I suppose.”

  “Tommy’s a fine lad. Smart, too. Remembers everything, he does,” said John. “A few days ago I heard him talking to Kate.” John stepped back from the boat. “You won’t believe what he said. He knows the name of every single salmon berth, all fourteen of them. And who drew each one. Now, how do you suppose he remembers that? And why would he want to?”

  “He must be doing good in school, then,” said Martin.

  “Yes, real good,” said John proudly. “Miss Morrissey thinks he’s a wonder. He helps her out with the other youngsters when she’s busy.”

  The two men carefully tapped wads of oakum into the seams until they were tight.

  “Do you suppose we’ll beat Torbay in the races?” asked Martin. “Do you really think we can win?”

  John stopped working and put the oakum aside. “I didn’t like what Clements said to me at Scanlan’s, but that won’t change the way I rows. It may change the way he rows, though, or how Torbay rows.”

  He took out his pocket knife and opened it. “Those cocky bastards made the challenge. Let’s see if they can live up to it.” He ran the knife blade along the bottom of the boat, cutting the loose strands of fibre hanging from the newly closed seams. Then he ran his hands over the bottom, from bow to stern.

  Martin reached down to the pile of rope at his feet. He took an end and started to form circles. Never taking his eyes off John, he placed the rope circles, one on top of the other, over and over, until it became a coil.

  “Martin, we knows what to do when Watt gives us the command. Neddy Gosse is going to be equal to the task with the Torbay crew. He’s a fine cox.” John picked up a jigger and let the line run free from the spool. Holding it in front of Martin, he began to swing it like the pendulum of a clock. “I rows the way I thinks. I rows the same way this jigger swings, except for . . .” His eyes followed the arc of the moving jigger back and forth, back and forth. “The only difference between this jigger swinging and the oar in me hand is the time. The jigger takes a second, but I’m a bit longer than that making a stroke with the oar. Watt told me. I knew the stroke length took longer, but he timed it.” He grinned as he walked slowly around the boat. The crunch of beach rocks beneath his boots competed with the noise of the heavy waves hitting the bulkhead at Boy’s Cove. The waves exploded on impact, sounding like distant gunfire, and spray rose like smoke.

  “You got to feel the oar in your hand when it’s out of the water. There’s no thinking to be done when the blade is in the water, that’s just the work part. You thinks when the blade is in the air. Although there’s not much time to think then, is there?” He tossed the jigger to the ground. “When Croke rows with you or Jack tomorrow, remind him every time he puts an oar in his hand about what I just said. He’s a big man, he already knows how to pull on the oar.”

  Another huge wave burst against the rocky cove. The sound vibrated through John like the sound of the starter’s gun.

  Chapter

  15

  The child-sized punt lay against the sill of the barn door. Its seat had been torn free and was sitting in the spring grass. There was a small hole in its bottom. John picked it up and carried it into the house.

  “Where’s Tommy to this morning, Kate?” He laid the broken pieces of the punt against the table.

  Kate looked at him. “Dear God in heaven. What happened to his boat?”

  John shook his head. “Where is he?”

  “He’s down at the Big River. I thought he had the boat with him.”

  John made his way down the steep ravine behind the empty Slater house, pushing aside the alder branches invading the narrow path. He stopped halfway down and listened. There was the sound of water being disturbed. When he got to the bottom of the ravine and stepped out of the alders, he saw Tommy tossing rocks into a dark pool. John cleared his throat and the boy turned around. When he saw John, his small legs made an attempt at scrambling up the slippery bank, but he slid back to the edge of the water.

  “My son, don’t run away. What are you scared of me for?” Hurt, John went to help him stand up.

  “Leave me alone.” Tommy moved back until he could go no farther. The deep pool was just a few feet away. Tears streamed down his dirt-covered cheeks. “I don’t want to live with you and Aunt Kate no more. I wants to go home.”

  John crouched down, his back against a large rock. Slowly, he reached out to touch Tommy, but the boy backed closer to the water’s edge.

  “Go away. Leave me alone.” Tommy’s words came out on the back of short, choking breaths.

  John felt tears come into his own eyes. He picked up a sharp stone at his feet and held it
tightly so that it would dig into his palm. “We can fix the boat, Tommy. It’s a tough little punt. You know, we needs to be tough sometimes, too, to make things better for ourselves.”

  Tommy raised his head and looked at John. “I never meant to break it. I got mad.” He walked slowly toward John, who moved toward him, until they were face to face. John put out his arms and pulled the child to him. He smiled when he realized Tommy was wiping his nose against his flannel shirt.

  “That’s all right, b’y. I gets mad sometimes, too.”

  “Yes, I knows you do. I heard you tell Aunt Kate you was mad at that man Clements from Torbay.”

  John grinned. “Yes, I was some mad at him. Let’s go back to the house and see if we can get Kate to make some fudge. You likes fudge, don’t you?”

  “What’s fudge?”

  “It’s like candy. Real sweet.” John licked his lips. “Especially Kate’s fudge. Do you want to ride partway home on my back?” He felt the boy’s head nod against his chest. “All right, then.” John bent down and Tommy climbed up, wrapping his small arms around John’s big shoulders.

  Juncos were chirping in the trees as they climbed the steep gorge. A fox sparrow added two notes’ worth to their song.

  Tommy squeezed John’s shoulders. “I’m not mad no more, Uncle John. And I can’t wait to get home.”

  Chapter

  16

  Jack and Martin hurried along with their grub boxes. Hungry gulls screamed overhead, struggling to gain control of their flight as the gusty winds tossed them up and down. The roaring Big River drove torrents of water down through the valley to the ocean, turning the salty tide at the beach brown.

  “I heard Francis Tapper muttering in church yesterday morning. He was sitting in the pew behind me and Mary,” said Jack.

  “That arse. He can never keep his maw shut. He’ll never smother, that’s for sure. Always got his trap going. Win or lose, he got something to say.” Martin picked up a large stone and smashed it to the ground.