by Bob Chaulk
“Sure, why not?” he said defiantly.
“Cause it’s a lousy idea.”
“You did it, didn’t you?”
“I certainly did not. I finished school first, and then I went to sea. Where do you think I learned the math to do navigation? Now, don’t you be talkin’ like that anymore.”
Jackie went quiet. Henry gave him a moment for his point to sink in.
“Now, you must have a girlfriend, a good lookin’ young fella like you? I imagine the girls would be swarmin’ all over you, like bees to buttercups.”
“I’m not that interested in girls. There was this girl, Ruby Wheeler, who used to live next door. People would torment me when I was little and say she was my girlfriend but that’s about it for girlfriends for me.”
“Proper thing. You’re better off,” Henry replied, and changing the subject, “I suppose you should try again to get some sleep. With all those warm pelts I might not be able to get you up.”
Four hours later Henry was shaking him awake for his watch. With Jackie on station, Henry crawled under the stiff, partly frozen pelts—anything but luxury, but better than before—and eventually nodded off. He fell into a deep sleep and dreamed about food, especially fresh fruit, which he rarely got. He was in the Caribbean, warm and barefoot, with no ocean in sight, just green fields and tall trees, surrounded by oranges, bananas and grapes. It was suppertime and his mother’s reassuring voice was calling him as she did when he was a boy: Haaan-reee, Haaaan-reee. Her voice got louder and louder until it was Jackie’s voice, “Henry, Henry,” he said, shaking him into consciousness.
Startled, he looked up at Jackie’s dark form. “What? What is it?”
“I seen a light.”
He jumped up. “Where?”
“That way. I seen it and then it went away for a while and then it came back. It comes and goes. Is it a lighthouse?”
Henry looked intently in the direction Jackie had pointed until eventually a faint pinprick of light appeared and went away again. It was barely visible and seemed to come and go at random.
“Is it a lighthouse?” Jackie repeated.
“It’s got to be a ship or a lighthouse. I never saw a light like that on a ship, but lighthouses have different flashing sequences so you can tell them apart. This one is inconsistent; it seems to be twinkling instead of flashing. And it’s a long ways away.”
He stared, counting the flashes and timing the eclipses, over and over again, but the inconsistencies continued. “I can’t make any sense of it.”
Jackie’s excitement soon turned into boredom and he drifted back to the shelter and lay down to the sound of “One, two, three, ecliiiiipse, one, two, eclipse, dammit! Okay, start over. One, t…hey, I know what it is! I’ll bet it’s the ice pinnacles between us and the light. They’re moving around and blocking our view.”
Jackie was up again. “So it’s a lighthouse after all?”
“It has to be. But I’m darned if I know which one.”
“Is there a lot of them?”
“No, just on the main headlands, so there must be land within twenty miles or so. If it’s Cape John then that means we’re barely moving because we were in sight of it when the ship burned. I can’t see it being Twillingate, though, or Fogo because I can’t imagine us moving that fast. All I can figure is that we must have moved north out of sight of the Cape John light and now we’re moving south again. I can’t explain it any other way.”
“So is this good or bad? Are we making any progress towards Fogo?”
“I really can’t tell yet,” said Henry. “I’ll need to see some change in that light, to see it get brighter or dimmer. If I could see it clearly I’ll be able to make out the sequence. Maybe we can figure out a way to get higher so we can see it better.”
They tried piling pieces of ice atop one another, and Jackie even climbed on Henry’s shoulders while Henry balanced himself as high as he dared. But nothing worked and they soon called it quits. Jackie eventually went to sleep and Henry continued to scan the horizon for a rescue ship. He felt a wave of despair pass over him like a bout of the flu. They could see a light. So what? It was still at least twenty miles away and it told him what he already knew: that they were somewhere off the big maw of Notre Dame Bay, on a piece of ice, a tiny dot among tens of thousands, miles from land, with no sign of a ship and, he was reluctantly concluding, they seemed to be going in circles.
He stopped. He had to cease this downward spiral of thought. He had to keep going for Jackie, even if he was starting to lose hope himself. Jackie had a family at home waiting for him and if Henry, with all the learning and experience he had gained from Uncle Levi and Simeon and his father, were to give up, they would never see Jackie again. He gave himself a shake and tried to find something positive to think about.
He studied the inscrutable light yet again. Its appearance told him at least one thing: they had not drifted over the horizon or, better still, if they had, then they were now drifting south again. If the light would only get brighter, then that would confirm it and there would, indeed, be hope. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t stare at it constantly but just checked it every hour or so to see if its appearance had changed.
He looked towards the sky. It was like he was wearing a blindfold. It was almost as dark as it had been on Monday night, a little brighter perhaps. There was no wind. Henry thought it might be warming slightly, but given that their lives depended on the integrity of a piece of ice he preferred that it stay at least below freezing. Despite the stillness, every now and then a cold breeze touched his cheek, like the breath from a ghost. Having slept outside many times he was accustomed to the moods of the night and had learned not to be startled when it felt like somebody was brushing by him in the darkness. He felt a shiver and flapped his arms to stay warm. The ice creaked and occasionally he heard pieces bump together. As the hours dragged, snow began to fall, big Christmassy flakes that he caught on his tongue to while the time away.
chapter thirty-five
The faint light of dawn eventually appeared in the east, with its protracted choreography, and soon Jackie was up again and standing beside him.
“Did you figure out anything about the light?”
“It has to be Cape John, so I’d say we’re twenty or so miles from it, either to the north or we’re northeast of it somewhere in the entrance to Notre Dame Bay. What I can’t figure out is why we’re seeing it again now. We must be moving in a big arc, I suppose. We should be able to tell tonight if it’s still clear. If the light becomes brighter then we’re getting closer.”
“Could you tell any difference in it last night?”
“I checked it every hour or so, but I honestly couldn’t tell. What we don’t want is for it to go away. That will mean we’re drifting to the north again.”
“It snowed, eh?” said Jackie, as he picked some up and dabbed his tongue into it.
“Yes, and it’s bloody slippery. Watch that you don’t go ass over teakettle and break something.”
“It doesn’t seem so cold this morning, either.”
“Let’s see, what’s today? The nineteenth of March—two days ’til spring. It sure feels like a spring day this morning.”
“Nice and calm,” said Jackie, taking off his coat and tossing it down. Seeing Jackie without the big coat reminded Henry that his companion was barely out of childhood. He was thin and lanky like a calf, with arms and legs that looked too long for him. “You know,” said Henry, “I believe the day we went on the ice together was the only other time I saw you without that coat of yours. You were famous for it; I heard a few men on the ship refer to you as the young feller with the long coat.”
“That so?”
“Yeah, and considering where we’ve ended up, it’s a good thing you got it.”
“I guess. Is that a layer of ice on the top of the water?”
“It’s just sished over, not much thicker than a piece of paper,” Henry replied. “It has to be pretty still f
or that to happen this far offshore. It’ll all be gone as soon as the wind breezes up.”
Jackie walked towards the edge of the floe. “Man, look at this; you can see your reflection on it. Yuck, I look terrible; I got blood and crap all over my face.”
“Get back outa there!” Henry yelled, as he turned to see Jackie lying on his belly, reaching into the water.
“All right, all right! Keep your drawers on,” said Jackie. “I’m just gonna wash some of this crud off my face. Hey, look, I can see a seal swimmin’ down there!” he yelled, twisting slightly to follow it as it swam under the ice. That started him sliding and with no way to stop himself he just kept going. Henry froze in disbelief as he watched Jackie slide into the water, clawing desperately at the ice and screaming for help.
“Oh, God, no!” said Henry beneath his breath. He couldn’t budge. “Jack, please come back,” he pleaded, wringing his hands and staring at the smooth widening circles where Jackie had fallen in, the clear, thin slush gently bobbing up and down. He gawked in silence…waiting…expecting Jackie to bob back up. Nothing.
A sickening wave of fear passed over him as he slowly went to the edge, got on his hands and knees and looked down into the clear water. He felt as though a hidden hand was about to grab for him and pull him in. He looked down and there, directly below him was Jackie, immobile and vertical as though flying, the top of his head held down by the edge of the ice floe.
“Oh, Sandy, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, backing away. “Forgive me.”
Backing quickly away from the edge, he sat, immobile, looking at the horizon… as a shiver passed through him. “You gotta do it,” he told himself. “Come on…”
Swallowing hard, he crawled back over and looked down. Jackie was gone!
Had he only imagined he was there? Did he sink? If so, he should still be able to see him. He must be flat up against the ice.
He plunged his arm into the water and felt for the edge of the floe.It was too thick to reach. He would have to jump in. No. Then they would both freeze to death. The gaff! He bolted back and grabbed it, fell on his belly and pushed it under the ice. Oh, Lord, let him be there. He hooked something, gave a gentle tug, and Jackie’s unconscious body emerged, but Henry was unable to reach him and pull him out. Still on his belly, he looped his towing rope under Jackie’s arms, stood up and pulled as though he were towing a seal. Jackie’s body flopped face down onto the ice. He grabbed his sweater, gave another tug and pulled him fully out of the water.
“Jack!” No response.
The boy’s lips were blue, his face pale, and his body appeared lifeless. “Jack, boy, wake up!” Henry was panicking now. Oh, God, not again. His mind flashed back to last fall aboard ship. What was wrong with him? How could he have allowed this to happen?
“Jaaack!” Henry yelled, shaking him in desperation. He had only been in for a minute or two. Surely he was alive; he had to be. He grabbed him around the hips and held him upside down to see if any water would come out. His mind raced back to the brief training he had received on artificial respiration aboard ship. As he laid him back down, Jackie suddenly went into a fit of coughing, gasping and, finally, retching.
“Atta boy!” Henry shouted with unspeakable relief. “That’s it, cough it up, grab a breath. You’re gonna be all right.”
He dragged Jackie to the pile of seal pelts and started ripping the wet clothes off him.
“Okay, Jack, we’ll have you set to rights in no time. I’ll get a fire goin’ now and get you dried off. Hang on there, Buddy.”
Henry removed his own boots and socks and quickly returned his bare feet to his boots. He dried Jackie’s feet with the arms of his jacket, placed his socks on Jackie’s feet, and wrapped his violently shivering body in his famous long coat. Jackie’s face was a sickly pale and his teeth were chattering.
“This is just gonna take a minute, Jack,” he said as he feverishly shaved some wood chips off the end of the gaff handle and laid out the blubber. He struck a match and soon the fire came to life. When the fire got going he said, “Open your coat there, now, and let the heat get at you and get ya dried off.”
Tense moments followed, as Henry kept Jackie moving and exposing successive parts of his body to the little fire, husbanding the precious fuel for the drying job that lay ahead. When it looked like Jackie was going to be okay, Henry methodically started the long task of drying the wet clothes, beginning with socks and mitts, hanging as much as he could fit over the gaff handle and holding it over the smelly fire. “How are ya feelin’?”
“All right, I guess.”
Henry needed some levity to help himself recover. “What were you trying to do, make away with yourself or learn to swim?” he asked, shaking his head and laughing almost giddily. “If you want to learn to swim, you should start in the summer, and I’d recommend shallower water.”
“I’ll remember that,” Jackie replied, his modest sense of humour unwilling to kick in just now.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t have that coat on, because if you had of, that woulda been the end of ya. Nice to have it dry when you got out from your little swim, too, eh? I guess you planned it that way, didja?” He grinned. “Here, gimme my socks back. Now my feet are cold,” he said, handing Jackie his dried socks.
It took most of the day and all the fat and pelts they had to get the rest of Jackie’s clothes dried.
“There’s the killer with a fire on the ice or snow,” Henry said, as he carefully dragged the nearly consumed skin out of the slush. “You got to keep moving the thing around or it’ll drown itself from its own heat. Now, if we were in the woods in the fall of the year, we would have warmed the ground up by now and would have a nice warm spot to sleep on. But all we got here is a bed of slush. How are you enjoying that drink of water?”
“Oh, man, it’s some good.”
“When you get back in school you can tell your buddies you were drinking melted snow out of a flipper cup. Pretty smart, eh?”
“Pretty smart. Where did you learn that trick?”
“I guess you could call that a Henry Horwood original. I just hollowed the flipper out a bit with the knife. Sorry about the blood and the other old gurry in there.”
“It all tastes good to me.”
“You ready for some cooked seal meat? Well, sort of cooked, I guess.”
“Sure. At least it’s warm.”
“You sure you didn’t plan all this to make me light this fire? There’s definitely too much luxury here now.”
“I’ll let you know when there’s too much luxury.”
Henry’s expression changed as he let out a long sigh. “Jack, b’y, you gave me some awful fright there.”
“I’m sorry, Henry,” said Jackie. “You were right. Talk about stupid; I—”
“No, no, I’m the one who needs to say sorry. The thing is, Jack, you were down there a lot longer than you shoulda been. It took me a while to come after you.”
“What?” Jackie stared at him, puzzled.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I… I’ll have to tell you later,” he said. “I don’t think I can do it right now.”
chapter thirty-six
While her father lay on the daybed reading The Family Fireside, and her mother sat knitting in her rocking chair by the stove, Emily sat at the kitchen table, her arms folded, staring at the floor. The pleading words of the letter rolled through her head. Poor Henry. How he must have suffered over the past months. And how she had added to his misery.
“It’s nice that you have poor Gennie settled away in the hospital,” said Ada, trying again to break the silence. “She must be worried, is she?”
“What?”
“I say, Gennie must be worried.”
“Yes.”
“She’s brave, though.”
“She puts up a brave front but how can she not be worried, facing the prospect of months in hospital and not knowing if her health will get better or worse?”
�
��I’m sure it was a big help for her that you were there to help get her settled in. And it’s good that Mrs. Pardy is going to take over her class until the board finds somebody else. My, that will be hard for her; she’s not as young as she used to be.”
“She’ll just have to manage. She can’t start until Monday, though.”
“Oh! What are you going to do? Do you want me to come in and give you a hand?”
“I’ll be okay. There’s just tomorrow. Jessie Locke is always interested in helping out with the little ones. She likes to get a little bit of experience.”
“Oh yes, she’s nice and sensible. She must be sixteen by now, is she?”
“Yes.”
“Lovely girl. I’ll bet she’ll make a grand teacher.”
“Probably.”
“Did I mention that Reverend Hudson is going to come by this evening?”
“No, you didn’t,” Emily sighed. “What’s the occasion?”
It was Thursday and with no encouraging news about Henry, Ada had decided to start implementing her fallback plan. “He would like to pray for the people lost on the sealing ship.”
“Can’t he do that in his own home? Why does he need to be here?”
“He’s our pastor, dear. He just wants to be helpful.”
“Helpful to whom?”
“To you. I asked him to come over and pray for you; I’m worried about you, my dear. I’m sure he will pray for Henry’s safe return, too.”
When will she ever get the message, Emily thought. She’s still trying to match me up with Basil. Under other circumstances she would have confronted her mother, but tonight she lacked the stamina. She had just made another decision that would use up all her inner resources: she could no longer put off telling Basil the truth about Henry; she would definitely bring it up this evening.
When the anticipated knock came, Ada continued knitting while looking over her glasses and waiting for Emily to answer it. Emily ignored it and kept working at her lessons. Ada laid down her knitting with a loud sigh and walked to the door, the sound of her leather heels clumping across the canvas floor. Basil soon appeared, wearing the black apparel of his office.
