CHAPTER XII
_Containing the Surprising Adventure of Eli Zitt's Little Partner on the Way Back from Fortune Harbour, in Which a Newfoundland Dog Displays a Saving Intelligence_
BOBBY LOT, Eli Zitt's little partner, left his dog at home when he setout for Fortune Harbour in Eli's punt. He thought it better for thedog. He liked company, well enough, did Bobby; but he loved his dog.Why expose the lazy, fat, old fellow, with his shaky legs and brokenteeth, to an attack in force by the pack of a strange harbour?
The old dog's fighting days were over. He had been a mighty, masterfulbeast in his prime; and he had scarred too many generations of theRuddy Cove pack to be molested now as he waddled about the roads andcoves where his strength and courage had been proved. But the dogs ofFortune Harbour knew nothing of the deeds he had done; and an air ofdignity, a snarl and a show of yellow teeth would not be sufficient todiscourage the yelping onset.
"They'd kill him," thought the master.
So the lad determined to leave his dog at home, and it was well for himthat he did.
"Go back, Bruce!" he cried, as he pushed out from Eli Zitt's wharf-head.
But Bruce slipped into the water from the rocks, and swam after theboat, a beseeching look in the eyes which age had glazed and shot withblood. He was not used to being left at home when Bobby pushed out inthe punt.
"Go home, b'y!" cried Bobby, lifting an oar.
The threatening gesture was too much for Bruce. He raised himself inthe water and whined, then wheeled about and paddled for shore.
"Good dog!" Bobby called after him.
In response, the water in the wake of the dog was violently agitated.He was wagging his tail. Thus he signified a cheerful acquiescence.
"He'll be wonderin' why he've been sent back," thought Bobby. "'Tis toobad we can't tell dogs things like that."
* * * * *
Bobby had a message for Sammy Tompkins. It was about the great run ofcod at Good Luck Tickles, the news of which had reached Ruddy Cove thatmorning. But old Sammy was on the Black Fly fishing grounds when thelad got to Fortune Harbour. It was growing dark when he got in for thenight. So Bobby chanced to be late starting home.
The wind had fallen away to a breathless calm; the sky was thicklyovercast, and a thin mist lay between the gloomy clouds and the sea'slong, black ground-swell. Bobby had not pulled through four of the sixmiles before sea and sky and rocky coast were melted into one vast,deep shadow, except where, near at hand, the bolder headlands were tobe distinguished by one who knew them well.
"I wonder," Bobby thought, "if I'll get home before mornin'. 'Tis hardt' say. I might have t' lie out here all night. Sure, I hope it gets nothicker."
He rowed on towards Ruddy Cove, taking new bearings from time to timeas the deeper shadows of the headlands loomed out of the dark of thenight. Thus, he followed the coast, making with great caution for thenarrow entrance to the inner harbour, which invariably was hard to findat night or in the fog.
The sea was breaking against the rocks. The noise was loud in Bobby'sears, and served to guide him at such times as the headlands wereindistinguishable from the clouds. His progress was slow and cautious;for he knew the dangers of the way he must take.
There was a line of submerged rocks--The Wrecker, Old Moll andDeep Down--lying out from Iron Head, directly in his path. Thatneighbourhood was a neighbourhood of danger. When the lad caught sightof the strange outline of Iron Head, he swerved the bow of the boat tosea and paddled out. He wanted to make sure of rounding Deep Down, theoutermost rock--of giving it a wide berth.
But the night and the noise of the breakers confused him. He could nottell whether or not he had gone far enough. At length he decided thathe must be safely beyond the rock. But where was Deep Down? Often hepaused to turn and look ahead. Every glance he cast was more anxiousthan the one before. He was getting nervous.
"'Tis hard t' tell if the sea is breakin' on Deep Down," he said tohimself. "Sure, it must be, though."
It was important to know that. Sometimes only the larger swells curland break as they roll over Deep Down. Bobby knew that just such a seawas running then. Had it been daylight, the green colour and the slightlifting of the water would have warned him of the whereabouts of thatdangerous reef. But it was night; the spray, as the wave was broken andflung into the air, and the swish and the patter, as the water fellback, were the signs he was on the lookout for.
If, then, the waves broke only at long intervals, the punt might at anymoment be lifted and overturned. It might even then be floating overthe rock. Bobby's heart beat faster when the greater swells slippedunder the boat. Would they break beneath him? Would they break nearat hand? He paddled slowly. It was better to be cautious, he thought,until he had Deep Down located. So he listened and looked as he paddledon.
At last he heard the significant swish and patter. He flashed about tolook ahead. But he was too late. The spray had fallen and disappeared.
"'Tis somewheres near," he thought, "and 'tis breakin'. But whether t'port or starboard, I don't know."
Again--and apparently from another quarter--he heard the noise ofa breaking wave. He turned in time to catch sight of a gleam ofphosphorescence off the port bow.
"If that's Deep Down," he thought, "I'm safe. But if 'tis Old Moll orThe Wrecker, I'm somewheres over Deep Down. I wisht I knowed which itwas."
What was it? The Wrecker, Old Moll or Deep Down? Which one of the threerocks that lay in a line off Iron Head?
"I wisht I knowed," Bobby muttered, as he bent anew to the oars.
* * * * *
In the meantime, old Sol Sludge, of Becky Sharpe's cove, which liesbeyond Iron Head, had started for Ruddy Cove by the goat paths totell Skipper John Matthews that he would take a berth in the schooner_Rescue_ when she got back from the Labrador.
He had a candle-lantern to light the way. When he had crossed the Headand was bound down the valley to meet the Ruddy Cove road, he heard acry for help. It came from the sea, with a soft southwest wind whichhad sprung up--a sharp "Help! Help!" ringing out of the darkness againand again. Old Sol listened stupidly, until, as from exhaustion, thecries turned hoarse and weak.
"Now, I wonder who's out there," the dull old fellow thought. "Itsounded like a woman's voice. Sure, it may be the spirit o' Mary Rutt.She was drowned off Iron Head."
Nevertheless, he made haste to Ruddy Cove--all the haste his old legsand dim sight would permit--and told the folk that he had heard the cryof a spirit drift in from the sea off Iron Head. But nobody believedthat.
Who was in the water off Iron Head? was the question that passed fromcottage to cottage. Was it Billy Topsail? No; for Billy told the folkin person that he had come in from the grounds at twilight. Was itJosiah Seaworthy? No; for Josiah's wife said that he had gone by way ofCrooked Tickle to Burnt Harbour.
Who was it? Had Eli Zitt's little partner got back from FortuneHarbour? When Eli Zitt heard of that cry for help he knew that Bobby'spunt had been overturned on one of the Iron Head rocks. Like a woman'svoice? That surely was Bobby's--that clear, full voice. So he calledfor a crew to man the skiff, and in five minutes he was ready to pushoff.
Old Bruce jumped aboard.
"Get out with you!" said Bill Watt, aiming a kick at him by the lightof the lantern.
"Sc-ctt!" cried old Tom Topsail.
But Bruce was a practiced stowaway. He slunk forward, and found arefuge under the bow seat.
"Push off, lads!" Eli shouted. "Give way!"
In ten minutes the skiff had passed from the harbour to the sea. EliZitt, who worked the scull oar, turned her bow towards the Iron Headrocks. It was dark; but he had fished those waters from boyhood, and heknew the way, daylight or dark.
Dark it was, indeed! How was Bobby to be found in that great shadow? Hewas a water-dog, was Bobby; but there was a limit to his endurance, andhalf an hour at least had passed since old Sol Sludge had heard his cryfor help.
A long search meant failure. He must be found soon or he would not befound at all. On went the boat, the water curling from her bows andswirling in her wake. The phosphorescence flashed and glowed as theoars were struck deep and lifted.
"He'll be swimmin' in," Bill Watt panted, when the skiff had coveredhalf the distance to Deep Down. "They's no place for him t' land withthis sea on. We ought t' meet him hereabouts."
"If he's afloat," Topsail added.
"Oh, he's afloat yet," Eli said, confidently. "He's a strong swimmer,that lad is."
"I'm thinkin' he'll be nearer shore," said Bill Watt.
"No, no! He's further out an' on."
"Bobby!" Topsail shouted. "Oh, Bobby!"
There was no reply. For a moment the rowers lifted their oars from thewater. Silence was all about--from the boat to the shore rocks, wherethe waves were breaking. The cries for help had ceased.
"Gone down," Bill Watt muttered.
The men gave way again. Again they paused to call Bobby's name, and tolisten, with anxious hearts, for some far-off, answering cry. Againthey gave way. Again they called and called, but heard no answer.
"Gone down," Bill Watt repeated.
"Give way, lads!" cried Eli. "He's further out."
Old Bruce came out from hiding. He crawled to the stern seat andsniffed to windward. Then, with his nose pointed astern, he began tohowl.
"Shut up, you!" Topsail exclaimed.
But Bruce could not be quieted--not even after Topsail's boot hadcaught him in the side and brought a sharp howl of pain. Still hesniffed to windward and barked.
"Throw him over," said Bill Watt. "We'll not be able t' hear Bobby."
"Oh, if 'twas only light!" Eli groaned, not heeding Watt.
But it was dark. The water was covered with deepest shadow. Only thebreakers and the black outline of Iron Head could be seen. Bobby mightbe swimming near at hand but too far off to send an audible shout forhelp.
"Bobby--oh--Bobby!"
If a cry in answer had gone up, the barking of the dog drowned it. Thedog must be quieted.
"Push the brute over!" said Watt.
Watt himself dropped his oar and stepped to the stern. He took Bruceunaware and tumbled him into the water. The old dog made no protest. Hewhined eagerly and swam out from the boat--a straight course astern.
"Now, what did he do that for?" mused Watt.
"That's queer," said Topsail.
Eli looked deep into the night. The dog left a luminous wake. Beyond,in the direction the dog had taken, the man caught sight of aphosphorescent glow. Watt saw it at the same moment.
"What's that?" said he. "They's fiery water, back there!"
"Man," cried Eli, "the dog knowed! Sure, it must be Bobby, swimmin'up, an' too beat out t' cry. Fetch her about, lads. We're on the wrongcourse. Haste! He'll not be able t' last much longer."
Eli was right. The dog _had_ known. It was Bobby. When they picked himup he was too much exhausted to speak. It was afterwards learned thathe had mistaken the spray of the Old Moll breaker for Deep Down and hadbeen turned over by the outer rock when he thought himself safe. He hadheard the call of his name, and had seen the lantern of the rescuingskiff, as it drew near; but, long before, he had worn his voice outwith screaming for help, and could make no answer. He had heard thebarking of Bruce, too; had known its significance, and had wonderedwhether or not the dog would be understood. But all that he could say,when they lifted him aboard--and that in a hoarse, weak whisper--was:
"Bruce!"
At that moment the crew heard a piteous whine near at hand. It was BillWatt who pulled the exhausted old dog over the gunwale.
"Good dog!" said he.
And so said they all.
The Adventures of Billy Topsail Page 15
