Chain Locker

by Bob Chaulk

  “I can only do what I can do. We’ll have to see,” Simeon replied. “There’s a lot of sealers that don’t get a berth these years, good reliable men with families to feed. I heard there was hundreds stuck in St. John’s last year after the fleet put out. They were in a bad way, too: no berth aboard a ship, no work and no money to get back home. And you’d be worse off than most of them, having over two hundred miles to cover.”

  “Simeon, b’y, quit your worryin’!” said Dorman. “I got no doubt but that your say-so will get Selb aboard one of them vessels.”

  “Well, you just got to be prepared for the worse, that’s all I’m sayin’,” Simeon replied.

  “How many skippers want you on their vessel? I hear three was after you. You’re one of the best master watches on the Front. You’ve never lost a man, right? There’s not a sealer knows you that wouldn’t want to be in your watch.”

  “Times are tough, Darmy. I’m not a magician.”

  “Thanks for taking me along, Simeon,” said Selb. “I feel honoured to be going to the ice with you. Darmy told me you were even in the English Navy.”

  Simeon laughed. “If you’re honoured to be with me, then you haven’t seen many important people in your life.”

  “How did you get to be a master watch, Simeon?” Selb asked.

  “I suppose somebody decided that maybe I had learned something in the Navy.”

  “He was so good they begged him to come back when the Great War started, right Simeon?” Darmy chimed in.

  “I’m sure the Royal Navy could get along all right without me, Darmy. But, yes, I was a petty officer before the war. When I came back home and was at the ice, one of the skippers asked me if I wanted to be a master watch and I been doin’ it ever since. When the war started they contacted some retired petty officers—not just me—and asked if we wanted to join back up. It’s the petty officers that keep the ships runnin’ smooth, you see. I almost went, but by then I had a family to provide for, so I thought it was right to put them first.”

  “You been sailing for a good while then, I guess, eh?” said Selb.

  “Yep, a fair while. I’ll soon be fifty and I been at sea since I was fifteen. This summer, if I survive, I’ll make my twenty-second trip to the Labrador and I been to the Grand Banks three times.”

  “Ever been overseas—I mean other than with the Navy?”

  “When I was younger than you I signed on to a steamer in St. John’s and ended up in England, where three of us signed up for the Navy. They don’t pamper you there, I’ll tell you. The only thing worse is some of the sealing ships—although they’re better than they used to be.”

  Darmy grinned at Selb and winked. There were few things he enjoyed as much as one of Simeon’s sea stories.

  “After that, I made a few trips out of Twillingate on the Annie B. Hathaway taking fish to Spain and coming back with a load of salt. She was a fine vessel, a big three-master, built up in the Green Bay. The last trip in her was rough, though. We got into a vicious hurricane that beat her to pieces. After three days of pounding, her planks started to open up. It got so bad that you couldn’t go on deck because the deck boards would spread open so much you could get your foot stuck between them. They’d cut your foot cut clean off when they closed up again.”

  “Did it happen to anybody?” Dorman asked.

  “No. We had to stay inside at the pumps because she was leakin’ like a basket by then. On the fourth day a steamer came by and got us off just before she went down. The worst of it, though, was that the steamer was going to the Mediterranean and we couldn’t get off her until we got to the Suez Canal. It took us six months from the time we left Twillingate until we worked our way back home. Everybody thought we was dead!”

  “I told you, Selb!” Darmy declared triumphantly. “This one got more stories in his head than there is rocks in Fox’s dock. Tell us another one, Simeon.”

  “Maybe later. I think I’ll catch up to Henry and see how he’s gettin’ on.”

  Darmy nattered on to Selb. “You’re goin’ to find workin’ on a big sealer a lot different from gettin’ a few seals out the back door, Selb. Oh, yes, my son, and this bit of walkin’ we’re doin’ now is nothin’ compared to the walkin’ once we’re into the seals. And the draggin’, oh the work, the work! Selb, my son, ’tis pure doggery when you gets a tow of pelts on and you got to scote them for miles to the vessel. Mister, I’m telling you, then you’ll be earnin’ your keep!”

  Selb listened with impatience, leaning his weight into towing the sleigh with his belongings. “Darm, will you quit lecturin’ me! I’ve hauled my share of seals over the years.”

  “And the hummocky ice,” Dorman rambled on. “That’s the killer. All rifted in with big sheets on top of one another and you havin’ to somehow get your way over it, with your gear and your sculps. It’s not easy, no sir, ’tis not. You got no nicks or cuts on your fingers, have you?”

  “I dunno. I might.”

  “Well, you’re leavin’ home with ten fingers, you wants to come back with ten.”

  “I’ll come back with ten,” Selb declared with confidence. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. I’m sick of luggin’ these snowshoes. I’ll bet we won’t need to put them on again before we’re back home. We should have left them back at Henry’s.”

  “No sir!” said Dorman. “You won’t catch me away from home in winter with no showshoes.”

  “What are we gonna do with them while we’re on the trip?”

  “Take ’em aboard, I suppose. We’ll find a place to stow ’em. Did I ever tell you about the feller I knew from Black Island Tickle used to take his snowshoes sealin’ with him? Said if he came to a soft spot in the ice they would keep ’im from fallin’ through.”

  “I’ve heard of fellers doin’ that. I wouldn’t be too fussy about having to walk on iced-up snowshoes. And I certainly wouldn’t want to go through the ice with them on. Because one thing is for sure—you’d never get out again, not with snowshoes on. Too hard to haul them up through the broken ice.”

  “I s’pose you could reach down into the water and feel around and get them undone, couldn’t you?”

  “Nah, you’d never get’em off. With all your winter clothes waterlogged and trying to feel around for the harnesses in the cold water, sure you’d be froze to death in no time.”

  “Well, since we’re takin’ them along I might try them out if we get into some pummy ice.”

  “Go ahead; you won’t catch me doin’ it.”

  The six lonely figures plodded across the grey-white plain under a dull sky, with Henry in front. Simeon caught up to him.

  “Injun Cove Neck,” he said, looking across the ice to the land on the left. “You done any pokin’ around over there lately?”

  “I used to, but I don’t get much time anymore.”

  “You ever find anything they left behind?”

  “A few bits and pieces.”

  “That’s not what your mother tells me. She said you got a great collection of arrowheads and pottery and stuff. I wouldn’t mind seeing it sometime.”

  “Sure. Anytime.”

  Silence.

  “I hear they were terrible thieves. Always stealin’ from the livyers up the river.”

  “Maybe if you were starvin’ to death you’d do the same thing.”

  More silence.

  “How’s the studying comin’?”

  “Pretty good, I guess,” he replied, barely above a whisper.

  “When’s the test?”

  “Sometime during the summer,” he mumbled. “They’re going to let me know.”

  “Does that mean you won’t be going on the Labrador? I suppose, though, you got all kinds of reasons to stay home,” he ventured, with a sly grin.

  Not taking the bait, Henry replied, “I’m hoping it’s late in the summer, after I get back from the Labrador. I’m going to try and find out while I’m in St. John’s.”

  “And you’re still going ahead with it? Even afte
r—”

  “Course I’m goin’ ahead with it. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Oh, no reason,” said Simeon. “And after you pass this one, what will that give you—your Mate’s ticket?”

  “Yep. Then I’ll be able to work as a junior officer on an oceangoing steamer.”

  “And, someday, you’ll make master mariner, I imagine?

  “Hope so.”

  “That’ll make that young Osmond maid sit up and take notice.

  The captain of a Canadian Pacific express passenger liner crossing the Atlantic! Cause a lowly sailor ain’t enough for her; I can tell you that.”

  “I hear there’s a good lineup for spots on CP ships. I’ll probably stay with Furness Warren. They’re a pretty good crowd.”

  Simeon got to the point: “You got a bit of a hangdog face on you there, b’y. A bit lovesick, are ya?”

  No response.

  “Cheer up, you’ll be back in no time, with all kinds of money to spend on her.” Still getting no reaction, he continued, “But, if I was you, I wouldn’t stay away for too long.”

  That got Henry’s attention. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, nothin’… nothin’ at all. Just flappin’ me gums. She’s quite the looker, that one. I ’magine you’re not the only one interested in her.”

  On they trod, heads down, one sealskin boot after another interrupting the view of the ice below. As he thought about Simeon’s comment, Henry’s mind wandered to the previous autumn, the dark blue sky, hot sun, the clear slate-grey water of Notre Dame Bay, a lazy yet passionate day that had stirred his soul and awakened a part of himself he had never known. He vividly remembered Shellbird Island, where they had walked, picnicked, talked, laughed, talked and laughed some more. In the cool grass, holding her warm body next to his, curbing his passion took all the restraint he could manage. She gently checked him, setting limits that only made him desire her more. She was not going to be rushed; that was clear.

  He had reluctantly accepted her hesitation and desire for more than what most women her age wanted. The majority of the girls he had known didn’t take long to get down to business on the marriage front, with much not-so-subtle hinting. But Emily was different. She was in a class by herself and he was painfully aware that with each step he was going farther away from her.

  At that moment in Twillingate, Agnes Tizzard was walking through the door of her mother-in-law’s house for her afternoon visit. “My dear, them grandchildren got me fagged right out,” Elfreda Tizzard complained, as she leaned on one elbow on the daybed and scratched her abdomen. “I needed a quick nap o’ sleep before you showed up. I’m gettin’ up, now.”

  “Take your time,” said Agnes. “They were hard on you, were they?”

  “I had young Robert all morning and then Lucy was here with her two, and you never heard such a charm. They left the door open and one of the hens—the big red one—got into the kitchen and there was ructions while we tried to huss her back outa doors. The youngsters chased her into the pantry and wouldn’t let her out. Then she pecked Marjorie’s leg and she started screechin’ and bawlin’.”

  “The broody one?” said Agnes. “She needs to set her mind on pushin’ out a few eggs rather than comin’ into the house and tormentin’.”

  “The very words I said to her, the very words!” said Elfreda. “‘Because,’ I said to her, ‘if I don’t see an egg soon, you’re gonna find yourself in the roaster with nothing but onions for company.’”

  “Proper thing!” Agnes cackled. “Let me know when you do it and I’ll be over to greet her when you take the cover off.”

  “Them youngsters took the good right outa me, my dear. They’re nothing but the torment, you know,” and then Elfreda added with a twinkle, “oh, but I loves to see them comin’. Sit down and have a spell, now; I’ll get some tea hove up.”

  Pouring two cupfuls, Elfreda sat down at the table across from her daughter-in-law. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at the feathers! The place is in slings,” she said. “We’ll drink our tea now and then you can give me a hand to tidy up. Did Simeon and his boys get away for the ice yet?”

  “They went yesterday,” Agnes replied. “They were going to spend last night at Eli Horwood’s in Cottle’s Island.”

  “Horwood’s? Wasn’t it their boy was seeing that new teacher before she took up with the minister?”

  Agnes’s eyes widened. “She’s after takin’ up with the minister? I heard she was engaged to Henry.”

  “She might be, maid, but I believe she’s seein’ the minister, all the same. He’s always over to their house, sure. Ada haves him in every Sunday after church. It’s not hard to tell what she’s up to. She’s tryin’ to get them together.”

  Gossip about Emily! Agnes weighed in. “That’s the goin’ on she haves, see. Not satisfied with one man, like the rest of us; no, she got to have two. I don’t know what she sees in that minister. Sure, he talks right queer. Did you ever speak to him?”

  “Now what would I be doin’ talkin’ to the minister from Saint Marks’s church? And have you ever seen one of that crowd yet that wasn’t a queer hand, anyway? I don’t know why you’d expect their minister to be any different.”

  “Well, I wonder what she’s going to be up to now, with Henry gone for two months,” said Agnes. “I feel bad for him but what can you expect from the likes o’ she?”

  chapter nine

  Jackie sat at the table as his mother and older sister served supper. He fiddled with the flat can of Holiday tobacco that always sat next to his father’s pipe, and gazed at the ship on the front. Flipping open the lid he took a long sniff of the exotic mixture.

  “Get your nose outa that; the next thing you’ll want to be smoking it,” his mother ordered. “Alice, give your father more than that, now. He’s been working all day and needs a good supper.”

  “Thank you, dear,” a smiling Tom Gould said to his daughter.

  “Well, I dare say the sealers will be on their way in the morning,” his wife ventured to nobody in particular.

  “I suppose so.” Tom’s mind was less on the seal hunt and more on the food his daughter had just put in front of him. He was a grocer, and a lot of potatoes and turnips had passed through his hands today. Now it was his turn to consume a few.

  “Please God they’ll have good weather and a safe trip.”

  “Mmm,” he responded, while devouring a piece of salt beef. “I just hope they come home with a good haul of seals. Maybe then some of them will settle their accounts.”

  “I know,” said Jackie’s mother. “A lot of people are finding it hard. Jackie, put down that can and eat your supper!”

  “This is the worst winter I’ve ever seen for people not paying their bills on time.”

  “I suppose there will be more boys stow away again this year,” Jackie’s mother pondered out loud.

  Jackie gulped and looked down at his plate, trying to appear innocuous. What was this, now? Was she baiting him? Better say nothing.

  She fixed her eyes on her son. “And leaving their poor mothers at home wondering where in the world they’re got to, with no way of knowing if they’re on a boat or fell off the wharf. My blessed, if they knew what they was putting their mothers through, they’d stay home where they’re safe.”

  Jackie decided that now was a good time to rely on a nugget of manly advice his father had given him: “When it comes to dealin’ with your mother, there’s a time to speak and a time to keep quiet. Just let her say what she got to say. She’ll say it a few times in different ways, but the best thing for you to do is keep your mouth shut. You’ll only make it worse for yourself if you argue with her.”

  He knew his mother was only doing what mothers were supposed to do, but he was not interested in hearing it. After all, he had passed his thirteenth birthday, far too old to still be in school. A couple of his friends had already dropped out. He was ready to see the world, and his mother would just have to accept that. Tomorrow morning he was going to sea and to f
reedom and no amount of pressure was going to stop him.

  As he sat staring at the tobacco can and the long trail of smoke drifting from the ship’s stack back over the water, he noticed that the room had gone quiet. He looked up to discover that all eyes were on him.

  “Well?” his mother asked.

  “Well, what?”

  “What have you got to say?”

  “About what?”

  “Mother of God, you’re not even listening to me! I said Molly Kelloway told me that you and Hubert was planning to stow away on one of the sealing boats. Is that true?”

  “Where did she get that idea from?”

  “Hubert told Barb and she told her mother,” Alice interrupted. “Barb can’t keep a secret for five minutes.”

  Apparently it runs in the family, Jackie thought. I’ll teach him to keep his trap shut and stop talking to Barb.

  “Is it true?” his mother insisted.

  “What if it is?”

  “Well, you’re quite the article now, aren’t you? I got a mind to give you a good lickin’ for talking to me like that.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Let me tell you something, mister. If you go running away on one of those boats I’ll soon take you down a buttonhole or two.”

  “Wha’s wrong wit ya? I never said I was goin’ on any sealing boat,” he replied, long-faced, eyes downcast, lips pouting, wishing the conversation would end.

  “No, you didn’t say you was, but you didn’t say you wasn’t, either.” A moment passed. “Well, are you going to answer my question?”

  “No, I’m not goin’ on no sealin’ boat,” he replied slowly, looking defiantly into her face and deliberately enunciating every word.

  “Well, just make sure you don’t.”

  She was not completely satisfied with the answer. As she lay in bed that evening she prepared herself for the worst. “It’s just a matter of time, Tom; if not this spring then next year for sure.”

  “He’s just a young gaffer who wants to have some fun,” said Tom, as he lay with his back to her. “Big talk, that’s all. I used to be the same way.”