Adrift in the Ice-Fields Part 8

"I am going to try to bring down at least one goose from those flocks which pa.s.s over us nearly every moment. They are certainly four hundred yards high, and I shall aim at the leader of the flock in every case, giving him about ten feet allowance for headway."

The first ball was without effect, although the leader swerved like a frightened steed as the deadly missile sung past him. The second cut a feather from the tail of the bird aimed at; and the third failed likewise. At the fourth shot the leader swerved as before, and then kept on his way.

"You might as well try to kill them a mile off, as at that distance,"

said Kennedy, disparagingly.

"I hit a bird in that flock, and I think the leader, at that; for I heard the rap of the ball as it struck. It may have been only through his quill-feathers. No; there's the bird I hit. See, he can't keep up with the flock."

The huge gander last fired at had hardly gone a hundred yards, ere, despite his endeavors, he had lowered several feet below the flock. In the next decade, the distance was increased to sixty feet, and in the third to as many yards. In the last hundred yards of his flight he sank rapidly, although struggling n.o.bly to regain the flock; and when about fifty yards above the ice, he towered up a few feet into the air, and fell over backward, stone dead, with a rifle-shot transfixing his body, in the region of the heart. On weighing him he turned the scale at fifteen pounds.

Of the remaining six shots but one was effective--breaking the wing-tip of a young female, which was secured for a live decoy.

Kennedy now proposed a plan for approaching a large flock, which had alighted about a half mile distant on the sea-ice. Taking the taboggin, which was painted white, from its concealment, he tied to its curved front a thin slab of snowy ice, and laying his gun behind it, approached the flock as near as possible, under cover of the hummocks. About three hundred yards of level ice still intervened, and lying down behind his snow-screen, he slowly moved his ingenious stalking-horse towards the flock. Had he understood the nature of the birds thoroughly, it is probable that his device would have succeeded splendidly; but when he was still about a hundred yards distant, the wary leader became suspicious, and gave a note of alarm. In an instant the whole flock, with outstretched necks, stood prepared for flight. Had he lain still, it is probable that the birds would have relaxed their suspicious watchfulness, and allowed him to get nearer; but thinking that he should lose all if he tried a nearer approach, he fired, killing one and wounding another, both of which were secured.

Just before dark a slight wind sprang up, and a few flocks, flying low about the harbor, came in among the decoys, and for a time the fire was quite heavy, and the sport most exciting. Taken all round, this day was the best of the season. Ben and Creamer received fifteen, La Salle and Kennedy twelve, and Davies and Risk eighteen birds--in all, forty-five geese. On arriving home they found a hearty supper awaiting their attention, after a due observance had been paid to the rites of the toilet. This observance seemed to demand much more time than ever before, to the great amus.e.m.e.nt of Lund, who had antic.i.p.ated as much all day.

"Are all you folks going sparkin', that you are so careful of your complexions? Goodness! why, you've more pomatums, oils, and soaps than any court beauty!"

There was some truth in this latter charge, for Ben and Creamer, after washing and a very gingerly use of the towel, anointed their flaming visages with almond oil. Kennedy, in his turn, approached the only mirror the house afforded, and applied to his blistered nose and excoriated cheeks the major part of a box of Holloway's Ointment; and even La Salle's dark face seemed to have acquired its share of burning from the ice-reflected rays of the sun. Davies and Risk, when called to supper, smelled strongly of rose-scented cold-cream; and Lund was unsparing in sarcastic remarks on the extreme floridness of complexion of the entire party.

"Ben, don't have any powder lying round loose to-morrow, with such a face as that. As for Creamer, he can't have any cotton sheets to-night, for fear of a conflagration. I don't think I ever saw anybody burn as bad as Kennedy has; and this is only the first day, too. A few days more like this would peel him down to an 'atomy. As to La Salle, he's too black to take any more color, but Risk and Davies won't dare to go home for a good two weeks at least."

In truth, the whole party had received a notable tanning, for the winter's sun, weak as it is compared with its summer fervor, has never such an effect upon the exposed skin, as when its rays are reflected from the millions of tiny specula of the glistening ice-field. The free use of soothing and cooling ointments will prevent the blistering and tan, to a great extent; but many on their "first hunt" lose the cuticle from the entire face; and many a seal has been lost on the floes, owing to the rapid decomposition produced by the sun's feeble rays thus intensified.

Notwithstanding their "tanning", however, the party were in splendid spirits, and ate their roast goose, potatoes, and hot bread with a gusto which far more delicate viands at home would fail to provoke. As the meal proceeded, and the merry jest went round, all feelings of fatigue, pain, and discomfort were lost in the revulsion of comfort which a full meal produces in a man of thoroughly healthy physique. How few of us in the crowded cities know, or indeed can appreciate, the pleasures of the hardy sportsman. To bear wet, cold, and discomfort; to exercise patience, skill, and endurance; and to undergo the extreme point of fatigue, was the sum of nearly every day's experience of the members of the party; but when their heavy guns and c.u.mbrous clothing were laid aside, the rough chair and cushionless settle afforded luxurious rest, the craving appet.i.te made their coa.r.s.e fare a delightsome feast, and when, warm, full-fed, and refreshed, they invoked the dreamy solace of the deity Nicotiana, the sense of animal pleasure and satisfaction was complete.

"Is your pipe filled, Creamer?" asked Lund, carelessly.

"Yes; but you'll not get it until you give us the story you're to tell us this night. Faith, there's not one of us can beat you at the same trade, and it's little of fact that you'll give us, any how."

"For shame, Hughie, to malign the credibility of an old friend in that way, and me the father of a family. I'm almost ready to swear that you shan't have a yarn from me for the whole spring. To accuse me of yarning--me that--"

"That humbugged the whole a.s.sociated Press of the United States no longer ago than the war with the southerns. I mind myself how you told them at Shediac, that the Alabama was down among the fishermen in the bay, like a hawk among a flock of pigeons. Faith, you had twenty of them taken and burned before you stopped that time, and the telegraph operator at Point de Chene was hopping all the evening between the boat and the office, like a pea in a hot skillet," retorted La Salle, laughing. "Ah, Lund! you mustn't plead innocent with us, who have been humbugged by you too many times already. But come, captain, draw on your imagination, and give us a regular stunner--one without a word of truth in it."

"Well, gentlemen," answered Lund, deliberately, "I ain't got anything to say to that young jackanapes, for n.o.body _that_ ever heard _him_ tell stories will ever believe anything he says again. But I mean to have my revenge somehow, and so I'll tell you a story that is as true as gospel, and yet you'll hardly believe a word of it. We who live here on this little island call it the story of

"THE PACKET LIGHT.

"About thirty years ago, my wife's father, old Mr. Bridges, lived in a snug little log house down in the next field, towards the Point. He was a young man then, and my wife here was a little girl, unable to do more than to drive home the cows, or help mind the younger children. The island is uncivilized enough now, sir, but in those days, besides the old French military road to St. Peter's, and a government mail route to St. Eleanor's, there was nothing but bridle-paths and rough trails through the woods. Men came to market with horses in straw harnesses, dragging carts with block-wheels sawn from the b.u.t.t of a big pine; and often when twenty or thirty of them were drinking into old Katty Frazer's, the beasts would get hungry, and eat each other loose.

"It was next to an impossibility to get any money in exchange for produce or labor, and everything was paid for in orders on the different dealers for so many shillings' or pounds' worth of goods. In winter a whale-boat on runners carried the mail between the Wood Islands and Pictou, and in summer a small schooner, called the Packet, sailed with the mail, and what few pa.s.sengers presented themselves, between the capital and the same port.

"It was in the last of November that year that the Packet made her last cruise. The weather was freezing cold, with a thick sky, and heavy squalls from the south of west, when she struck on the East Bar, near the main channel. They put down the helm, thinking to slide off; but she only swung broadside to the waves, and as the tide was at ebb, she was soon hard and fast, with the sea making a clean breach over her.

"Captain Coffin, with the four other men, got into the rigging with a flag of some kind, which they fastened at half mast, as a signal of distress. It was about midday when they ran on the bar, and Bridges saw them, and realized their danger at once; and their cries for help at times rose above the roar of the ravenous seas. With the help of his wife he launched a light boat, but long before he got into the sweep of the heavier breakers, he saw that she could never live on the bar, and it was with great difficulty that he regained the sh.o.r.e. At nightfall, although the hull was badly shattered, no one had perished, and the tide had so far abated that the party could easily have waded ash.o.r.e; and Captain Coffin and another man, after vainly attempting to induce the other three to accompany them, started themselves.

"The others charged them with cowardice in leaving the vessel, said that the wind would go down, and they could get the craft off at flood-tide, and so prevailed over the better judgment of the captain and his companion that they returned to the fated vessel, and prepared, as well as possible, for the returning tide.

"As the tide rose, the sea came with little, if any, diminution of fury; and until nearly midnight Bridges watched the signal lantern, which called in vain for the aid which it was not in the power of man to bestow. Intense cold was added to the other horrors of their situation, and the heavy seas came each hour in lessened fury, as the water thickened into 'sludge.' At eleven o'clock the tide was at its height; the seas had ceased to sweep across the hogged and sunken hull, and a sheet of thin ice reached from the sh.o.r.e to the vessel's side. Captain Coffin tried the ice, and, finding that it would bear his weight, decided to try to reach the Blockhouse Light, which shone brightly three miles away.

"He summoned the others; but two of the others, who had persuaded him to remain on board, were already frozen to death; the third decided to make the attempt, but walked feebly and with uncertain steps, and about a mile from the vessel succ.u.mbed to the piercing cold, falling into that fatal sleep from which few ever waken, in this life at least. Coffin's companion, a strong, hardy sailor, reached the light-house alive, but swooned away, and could not be resuscitated; and Coffin barely escaped with his life. He was terribly frost-bitten, but was thawed out in a puncheon of cold water, the right foot, however, dropping off at the ankle; but he escaped with life, after terrible suffering.

"The schooner sank, in the spring, at the edge of the channel, when the moving ice forced her into deeper water; and at very low tides her battered hull may still be seen by the pa.s.sing boatman. But ever since that fatal night, whenever a storm from that quarter is threatened, a ball of fire is seen to emerge from the depths where lies the fated packet, and to sway and swing above the water, as the signal lantern did on the swaying mast of that doomed vessel. Then, if you but watch patiently, the ball is seen to expand into a sheet of crimson light, terribly and weirdly beautiful, until the eye can discern the shadowy outline of a ship, or rather schooner, of fire, with hull and masts, stays and sails; and then the apparition again a.s.sumes the shape of a ball, which is lost in the sea.

"At times it appears twice or thrice in the same night, and often the herring-fisher, after setting his nets along the bar, sees behind his boat, as he nears the sh.o.r.e, the apparition of the 'packet light.' Since that night of wreck and death, no dweller on this island has pa.s.sed a year without seeing it, and it is so common that its appearance awakens no fear; and among the fishers of Point Prime, and the farmers of the opposite sh.o.r.es, there are few who will not bear witness to the truth of my story."

"It is a little singular," said Risk, "that a ship is the only inanimate object ever seen as an individual apparition. There are not many of these ghostly ships on the seas, however. I do not remember to have heard of more than one--that of the celebrated 'Flying Dutchman,'

off the Cape of Good Hope."

"It's no wonder, sir," said Lund, warmly, "that sailors suppose ships to be haunted, and also to be capable of becoming ghosts themselves, when you sit down and think how differently every one views a vessel, as compared with a house, or store, or engine. Why, there are no two ships alike, and two were never built just alike. There are lucky and unlucky ships, and ships that almost steer themselves, while others need a whole watch at the tiller in a dead calm. But I think that you are mistaken as to the 'Flying Dutchman' being the only other 'flyer,' as the sailors call them, for they are often seen in the Pacific, in the 'Trades.'"

"I can't swear to the truth of Mr. Lund's story, but I can affirm that the 'fire ship' is a myth, universally recognized among the sea-going population of our coast, from the Florida Keys to the mouth of the St.

Lawrence. Off the coral reefs, the crime-accursed slaver or pirate haunts the scene of her terrible deeds. Amid the breakers of Block Island, the ship wrecked, a generation ago, by the cruel avarice of men long since dead, still revisits the fatal spot when the storm is again on the eve of breaking forth in resistless fury. The waters of Boston harbor, two centuries ago, presented to the wondering eyes of 'divers sober and G.o.dly' persons, apparitions similar to those narrated by our veracious friend, the captain. The lumberers of the St. John tell, with bated breath, of an antique French caravel, which sails up the Carleton Falls, where no mortal vessel or steamer can follow. And the farmers and fishermen of Chester Bay still see the weird, unearthly beacon which marks the spot where the privateer Teaser, chased by an overwhelming English fleet, was hurled heavenward by the desperate act of one of her officers, who had broken his parole. As for the Gulf, the myth exists in a half dozen diverse forms, and all equally well authenticated by hundreds of eye-witnesses, if you can believe the narrators."

"Well, La Salle, I see you don't put much more faith in my story than in the thing I saw the night you came here. Now, I hope it won't be so, for it is borne in my mind, and I can't get over it, that I shall see some of you vanish into mist, as I saw those men. So, gentlemen, be very careful, for I fear that some of us are very near their fate."

There is a cord of fear in every man's heart which throbs more or less responsively to the relation of the wonders of that "debatable land,"

which, by some, is believed to lie "on the boundaries of another world."

La Salle felt impressed in spite of himself, and the whole party seemed grave and unwilling to pursue the subject. The silence was, however, broken by Kennedy.

"I am going home to-morrow," said he, "and therefore am not likely to be one of the unfortunates over whom a mysterious but melancholy fate impends. I have never found in the Tribune anything calculated to encourage a belief in ghosts of men, or vessels either; and what Horace Greeley can't swallow I can't. But I shall make minutes of this little matter, and if anything does happen, will forward a full account, in detail, to that truly great man. Come, La Salle; it's time we were abed.

Good night, gentlemen."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER V.

A MAD SPORTSMAN.--SNOW-BLIND.--A NIGHT OF PERIL.

The next morning shone bright and clear, and the gunners were at their posts in expectation of a good day's sport. They looked in vain, however, for any indications of open water, and a hole, sunk with the axe to the depth of eighteen inches, failed to reach salt water, although several layers of sweet, fresh water were struck; and the little hollow furnished them many draughts of an element nowhere more welcome than upon the spring ice. The sun shone brightly, their faces, still sore and feverish with yesterday's exposure, became sorer than ever, and the neck became chafed wherever it rubbed against the coat collar.

Still, these were minor evils amid the excitement of their occupation, for many flocks of wild geese were seen; and the appearance of a flock, however remote, is always the signal for every gunner to get under cover at once. A small flock of seven were completely destroyed that morning, in a manner that deserves recording here.

They were first seen striking in from the Gulf, and swinging well to leeward,--for the wind was westerly,--scaled in to the stand occupied by Davies and Creamer, who were lying down taking their noon lunch, and received no warning of their approach until they saw the flock scaling over their heads. Seizing their guns, both fired as quickly as possible, Ben a little the first. His first barrel missed, but the second, aimed at the same bird, brought it down. Creamer's first barrel went off in the act of c.o.c.king, in the hurry and agitation of the surprise; and letting the muzzle of his gun drop, he stood stupidly gazing at the departing flock, until roused by Davies's "Give them t'other barrel, any way." Raising his gun, he fired instantly, and killed a fine gander, which fell dead a hundred and twelve yards from the stand.

As if blinded by the unexpected danger, the remaining five swung just inside of the ice-boat, where La Salle and his companion, who had seen them from the first, picked out a brace at long but practicable range, while the retreating birds flew up the channel towards Nine Mile Creek, where two more fell to Risk and the elder Davies. For over an hour the remaining bird flew with clamorous cries about the scene of his bereavement, until a stranger, who had erected an ice-house, and placed a few rude decoys a few hundred yards from the bar, called him down, and fired a shot which dropped him on the ice.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "GIE ME MY GUSE, MON, AND DINNA DELAY ME." Page 97.]