Chain Locker

by Bob Chaulk

  “That is indeed wonderful news! God has answered your prayers, Sadie. I’m sure your family will be relieved.” Then, turning to Emily he asked, “And what about your friend, Emily? I understand you have a friend aboard the ship,” he said, his smile fading as he watched the colour drain from her cheeks.

  There was an uncomfortable silence before Ada said, “He’s not accounted for yet.”

  “Oh, dear me,” he replied in a voice of polished piety. “I shall certainly pray for him.”

  Having found out what he wanted to know, Basil talked for a few minutes about the pain of separation and the joy of reunion before announcing that he really must be on his way and would Emily like to show him to the door? Standing on the dark threshold he whispered to her, “Emily, dearest, I would like to see you and talk to you; there are so many things I wish to say.”

  “I’m really not up to talking right now, Basil,” she replied in a tired voice.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Goodnight, Basil. You need to go see how Mr. Pelley is.”

  chapter thirty-two

  Henry looked across the ice floe at his young companion, who sat with his back to him, staring to the south. He had been there all afternoon, faithfully watching for the rescue ship that he had been so sure was coming to get them. Now he was beginning to wonder if he had imagined the whole thing.

  “No, you didn’t imagine it,” said Henry. “I saw it too. They just didn’t see us.”

  “What, they got no binoculars aboard?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Jack.”

  “But they turned and were comin’ towards us and then they turned away again.”

  Henry shrugged. “I know.” His bigger concern was that if the ship was that far south of them, then they were much farther north than he had thought. The current must have moved them north, and farther offshore, despite his assumption that the winds were taking them to the southeast. That would explain why they had lost sight of the Cape John light so soon on the first night.

  With a tremor of apprehension, Henry tried to prepare himself mentally for the third night on the ice. As he and Jackie watched the light ebb from the western sky, he was beginning to dread what the future might hold for them. He just couldn’t shake the feeling of discouragement that had quietly settled on him like ash from a coal chimney. He tried to put up a good front for Jackie’s sake, hoping that in the process his own spirits might get a lift.

  “At least we’re not going to bed on an empty stomach like we did for the last two nights,” he said.

  “Right.”

  “And we’re not so thirsty, either.”

  “I guess not.”

  “It’s hard to believe that we’re beginning our third night out, eh? It sure doesn’t seem that long. We’ve had a lot happen to us in two days.”

  “I s’pose.”

  “I got a feeling I’m gonna sleep good tonight. I was so wound up on Sunday night; my mind was racin’ the whole night. And last night was just a hard old night, but I think tonight should be half decent.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know, Jack, these last couple of days haven’t been easy for you, but you’ve taken it like a man. I’ve known many a grown man who wouldn’t have done so good as you’re doin’. Now, just because that one ship didn’t see us don’t mean that the next one won’t. Just seein’ that ship out there has got me excited because I know she’s not the only one; she’s the first of many that’s out here looking for us; there’ll be more, guaranteed. And there’s no doubt in my mind that we’ll get more seals. We just have to be patient now and not allow ourselves to get discouraged. I know you would give anything to be back in your home right now, with your mother making a fuss over you and nothin’ to fear more than your feet gettin’ cold while you’re asleep in your bed.”

  “Of course I would. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Hell, yes. I certainly don’t want any more nights like last night. But that’s behind us, now. Just think of the yarns you’ll have to tell when you get back to St. John’s. They’ll probably put your story in The Evening Telegram. My son, you’ll be the cock of the block!”

  A slight smirk crossed Jackie’s face as he thought of the guys back home. Hubert would turn green with envy; served him right for backing out. And Mike was bound to be generous with his compliments. Mike was okay. Jackie was not sure about Ed, though. He didn’t want to think about why he had not seen him during the disaster.

  “Why don’t we get you settled away here for a nap of sleep?” said Henry, as he laid down the sealskins he had managed to keep from the fire. “It will be nice having those two pelts to lie on. In fact, I think it might just be too much luxury; might make you soft,” he grinned.

  Jackie accommodated him with a weak smile.

  “Here you go; lie down here, now, and I’ll take the first watch.”

  With Jackie settled away, Henry wandered over to a flat area of the floe, where it was easier to stand in the approaching darkness. Since seeing the ship, he had been gripped with a new urgency: the need to keep a steady watch through the night; God forbid that they should ever become lethargic and let that slide again.

  He tried to shake the feeling of despair that hung about him like a lead cape, made heavier by the helplessness he had felt as the ship turned away. The thrill of intense expectation had faded in a flood of disbelief and disappointment. But it wasn’t just that, even though that was bad enough. What was it, then? It wasn’t the weather, which he thought would be their greatest enemy; it was not menacing them right now. It was a fine enough evening, all things considered. And they could see a little, thanks to the few stars and the moon reflecting on the ice. What was gnawing at him?

  In the quiet of his lonely vigil the word finally screamed in his mind. It was frustration—the nagging realization that they were essentially powerless to help themselves. He had never in his life been in such a position. It had begun to sink in as their so-called signal fire burned in vain, but he had felt it most acutely as he watched Jackie, so forlorn, sitting on the ice and refusing to take his eyes off the spot where he had first seen the smoke, hours after the ship had gone out of sight.

  He knew that his own desire for a quick rescue had led him to an unreasonable expectation that one was imminent, and he had promised too much to Jackie in an effort to encourage him. The reality was that if they had gotten the news in St. John’s sometime on Monday, they would have needed a day to get a ship fuelled and loaded with food and medical equipment, so they probably wouldn’t have managed to get away until sometime today. Maybe they’ll show up tonight, he thought, trying to cheer himself with a new fantasy of another ship.

  Without a rescue ship there was no hope whatsoever. Even if they could keep themselves alive they could do nothing to bring themselves one step closer to seeing their loved ones again. If they were lost in the woods, they could walk; in a boat they could row or sail. But here they were trapped, surrounded by the capricious ocean, hemmed in on a platform of frozen water that could fall to pieces at any moment, trapped like animals in a zoo, without the keeper to take care of them. Below them was an amorphous foundation in constant motion, and they had no control over where they went or even the rate of their random meanderings. There was nothing constant in their existence. The only thing they could do was try to stay alive—and wait.

  All they had to remind them of their real lives was the clothes they had on, and their few possessions: the gaff, towrope, knife and sharpening steel. As hours had drifted into days, Henry had kept the gaff in his hands every waking moment, almost caressing it, studying the tip of the pick and the hook with his fingers, his eyes moving along the handle, tracing the route of each line of the wood’s grain to the top of the handle and then back again to the hook, analyzing every dimple and bump on the iron surface as though it could carry him back to the life he had known.

  He thought again of Simeon, leaning against the mast just before the explosion, picking the tobacco from hi
s hand-rolled cigarette off his tongue and starting to tell him about Emily and the minister. He had barely had time to think about her over the past forty-eight hours, but now a deluge of memories flooded his mind, almost taking his breath away. She was perfect. He had never known anybody so beautiful. He pictured her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders on the one occasion she had let it down for him. He could almost feel its silkiness between his fingers; he longed to hold her slender, shapely body and to gently touch her pink cheeks with his fingertips and to see her shiny brown eyes laughing up at him. Her warm smile, her laughter, her silliness, all called to him in his extreme loneliness. How he wanted another chance to see her. Did she know he was out here and if she did, did she care?

  Not only did she attract him emotionally and physically but, ironically, she was a respectable hand with a boat and knew the ways of the sea—not that this was important, but it only served to make her more appealing. Having grown up with just one brother and no sisters, Emily often helped her father and brother with all the things that a fishing family had to do. She could scull a rodney, remove the sound bone from a cod, repair a hole in a net, and she could even put a decent back splice on the end of a rope.

  He doubted if she could kill a seal, though; anybody who loved children as much as she did could never harm a baby anything. That was okay; he didn’t want to marry a sealer, and why in the world was he thinking of her in the context of sealing? He must be starting to lose his mind. In fact, he wanted nothing more to do with the whole sordid business of sealing. He had always loved the sea—and might still if they were rescued—but he had had enough of those disgusting old sealing ships. If he had to go back to the ice to put bread on the table, it would be with his uncle, whose vessel he knew was safe and clean when it was pulled away from the wharf.

  But if he should ever manage to win Emily, she would probably not want him sealing anyway. She had told him that working on the sea was no way to earn a living, with its long, hard hours, constant danger and uncertain returns. Her family had done it for two hundred years, but she intended to break the cycle, as her brother had. That was why she had become a teacher, earning her own living. No doubt that was why she was attracted to the minister. Henry had never met him, but he was sure that Basil was many things he was not and had far more to offer her.

  He wondered if she had sensed a change in him since he had come home last fall. He had hoped he appeared his normal self while he worked through his fears but maybe she saw through him and decided he was a bad risk. Maybe she thought him too ordinary for her. After all, she was an educated, intelligent woman while he was a simple man of the sea—competent, yes, he thought he was, and in a time and place where it was rare, he had completed high school with exceptional grades. He had become a crack navigator thanks to his quick grasp of the mathematical concepts, and all agreed that he would make an excellent officer. But he could not shake the feeling that in Emily’s eyes he had become commonplace. Although she had seemed to care for him in the beginning, he sensed that now he was no longer special to her as she was to him.

  Now, even Jackie, who had looked up to him with such admiration, was showing the symptoms of profound disappointment at his performance today. He looked at Henry differently, almost as though he was trying to comfort his little sister. And, worst of all, today’s outburst had him wondering if he had lost the qualities required to be an officer. Where was the steadiness under trial, the leadership, the ability to inspire? Henry groaned to himself. Even if he got back safely, so what? Perhaps he should quietly step off the floe in the darkness and spare himself the pain.

  He plodded some more around his circle, like an ox turning a millstone, going nowhere. There was not a light to be seen, just like last night and the night before. Where were the other sealing ships? Where was the Bessie Marie? Did anybody even know the Viking was gone? Perhaps none of the survivors had made it to the Horse Islands to tell the world. Perhaps there were no survivors. Perhaps the ice had opened up and the ocean had swallowed them all.

  A loud snore interrupted the litany of despondent thought and he couldn’t help but smile as he looked over at Jackie, who was enjoying the comfort of lying on his skimpy mattress of seal pelts. Barely more than a kid, he had borne this trial with amazing composure, proving himself to be up to every challenge they had had to face so far. What would his parents think of seeing their boy drink the warm blood of a creature that had been dead for only minutes? But, he was getting worn down, Henry thought; he had to find a way to help him bounce back. A good officer would find a way.

  Eventually, long hours later, he saw the first faint trace of light in the eastern sky, signalling the end of the third night of trial. Jackie had slept through most of it and Henry had let him be. Now that he was stirring, Henry was ready to get him up and switch places with him. Exhausted, he lay down on the pelts and found relief as he fell asleep.

  During the night the ice had closed up and formed a nearly solid mass stretching off towards the north, with open water a few miles to the south. As the sun rose over the horizon Jackie was greeted by a sealer’s dream—seals everywhere. Within striking distance he counted four bitches and four whitecoats. He could see the harp-shaped patches of dark fur that gave them their name. They all appeared to have no obvious means of escape. He looked over at Henry, who was out cold, so he decided to let him sleep. He would try his luck and surprise him.

  He walked towards the nearest pair. The wary bitch eyed him. He could feel his knees shaking. He wasn’t sure he could go through with it, but this was what the real ice hunters did, so he had to do it, too. Keeping the bitch in sight, with trembling hands he brought the gaff up partway over his head, but not quite far enough, and swung it down on the pup’s back, where it did no harm whatever as the thick layer of fur and fat protected it. The bitch immediately reared up and lunged at him. He sidestepped her and took to his heels, barely outrunning the ungainly seal, as she both slithered and waddled after him. She was much faster than he had expected.

  The commotion woke Henry, who popped his head above the ice wall to see Jackie standing back on to him, holding the gaff in both hands and contemplating his next move. The bitch was holding her ground. Never mind that one; get the one on the right, Henry thought, as he fought the temptation to march over and take control. Jackie must have read his thoughts. Walking towards another whitecoat with no apparent protector, he wound up to try again. His arms felt mushy as he brought the gaff up; his heart pounded in his ears. He swung and hit the seal squarely on the top of the head, stunning but not killing it. He glanced around quickly. None of the other seals seemed upset at him.

  “Man, at least Muffie put up a fight,” he grumbled under his breath. “Will you stop lookin’ at me!” Winding up and with all his might he swung again and finished the task. He had done his duty.

  “Great job, Jack, great job,” said Henry, walking over and slapping him on the back. “A bite of warm breakfast and another sculp. Now you’re a proper sealer. I’ll give you a hand sculping that one in a minute, but let’s get a few more first. Do you want to have a go at another one?”

  “You go ahead,” Jackie replied weakly as he handed Henry the gaff.

  He watched as Henry danced among the bitches, evading their snapping teeth, seemingly without effort, and finished off their young. From a safe distance, he looked the adults over and said, “Now they’ll put up a fight, but one of those bitches would give us a fine lot of blubber for our fire and make a fair-sized pelt to lie down on, too. If we got a couple of them we could even cover up. Think you could stand that much luxury?”

  “I’ll be happy to give it a try,” Jackie replied.

  “I thought you might say that. Okay, then, which one of those four do you think we should go after first?”

  Jackie looked from one to the other. “Come on,” said Henry gently, “we haven’t got all day.”

  “The smallest one, I guess. Wouldn’t she be the easiest one to kill?”

&nb
sp; “She would, but she’s actually on another piece of ice. See the way the floes are jammed together? If that pan shifted before we got the sculp off her we’d never be able to move her. I think our best bet would be to go for these two on our pan.”

  It took a lot of nimble footwork evading the powerful jaws, and four strikes of the gaff to club the first one to death. By the time he had finished with the second one, a hint of water had appeared between him and the two on the other pan.

  “I guess we’ll have to kiss those two goodbye,” he said.

  “You can kiss ’em yourself—”

  “There you are, girls,” he said, as the ice floes slowly parted. “Off you go now before I change my mind.”

  Needing no further invitation, they slithered into the water and disappeared under the ice. “You know,” he said, “it always amazes me that those fat things can get through such a small opening.”

  “Hey, what’s that queer-lookin’ one over there?”

  “That’s a bedlamer. Oops, there he goes,” said Henry. “Young and carefree. Nobody to look out for but himself.”

  “So, that was just a young seal?”

  “Yep, a young harp. About a year old, I would say.”

  “Is that what Reub called beaters?”

  “No, beaters are older whitecoats that have just started swimmin’. They’re only a few weeks old. After they go into the water for the first time, the old fellers say they’re after dippin’. Did Reub tell you about raggedy-jackets?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  “That’s what they call a whitecoat when he starts to lose his white fur and the darker stuff is starting to grow out, because he looks so raggedy.” Looking with satisfaction over the carcasses before them, he added, “I’d say we got some work ahead of us, eh Skipper?”

  In a few minutes, looking like pagans involved in some prehistoric sacrificial rite, he and Jackie were guzzling steaming red blood from crude ice bowls, toasting one another and their good fortune.