Chapter 22

GOOD-BYE TO THE "SEA BEE."

White Baldwin was of course interested in this talk of the man-wolf, but he was, at the same time, anxious to hear what the new-comer had to say concerning the cargo of provisions for which he had so long sought a purchaser. His heart beat high with the hope of a speedy return to his home and its loved ones; for he had already planned to leave the "Sea Bee" where she was until the following season. In case he could dispose of her cargo, he would insist that transportation and a guide--at least as far as Indian Harbour--should form part of the bargain. From Indian Harbour they would surely find some way of continuing the journey. He might even reach home by Christmas! Wouldn't it be great if he could, and if, at the same time, he could carry with him enough money to relieve all present anxieties? Perhaps he might even be able to take his mother and Cola to St. Johns for a long visit. Of course Cabot would accompany them, for with the warships all gone south for the winter there would be no danger of arrest, and then he would find out what a splendid city the capital of Newfoundland really was. Oh! if they could only start at once; but of course there were certain preliminaries to be settled first, and the sooner they got at them the better.

Thus thinking, White took advantage of a pause in the conversation to remark: "What a very fortunate thing it is that you who want to purchase provisions and we who have them for sale should come together in this remarkable fashion."

"It is so fortunate and so remarkable that I must regard it as a distinct leading of the Divine Providence that knows our every need and guides our halting footsteps," replied the missionary.

"And do you think," continued the young trader anxiously, "that you want our entire cargo?"

"I am sure of it; and even then we may be put on short rations before the winter is ended, for there are many to be fed."

With this opening the conversation drifted so easily into business details that, before the occupants of the cabin turned in for the night, everything had been arranged. White had been somewhat disappointed when the missionary said that, having no funds in St. Johns, he would be obliged to give a sight draft on New York in payment for the goods. This slight annoyance was, however, speedily smoothed away by Cabot, who offered to cash the draft immediately upon their arrival in St. Johns, where, he said, he had ample funds for the purpose. It was also agreed that our lads should be provided with fur clothing, snowshoes, a dog sledge, and a guide as far as Indian Harbour. In addition to taking the cargo of the "Sea Bee," the missionary proposed to purchase the schooner itself, at a sum much less than her real value, but one that constituted a very fair offer under the circumstances.

White hesitated over this proposition, but finally accepted it upon condition that at any time during the following summer he should be allowed to buy the schooner back at the same price he now received for her.

"Isn't it fine," he whispered to Cabot, after all hands had sought their bunks, "to think that our venture has turned out so splendidly after all?"

"Fine is no name for it," rejoined the other. "But I do hope we will have the chance of meeting Mr. Homolupus once more and of thanking him for what he has done. We owe so much to him that, man-wolf or no man-wolf, I consider him a splendid fellow."

In spite of their impatience to start southwards, our lads were still compelled to spend two weeks longer at Locked Harbour. First the missionary was obliged to make a visit to his station, and, on his return, the snow was not in condition for a long sledge journey. Furious winds had piled it into drifts, with intervening spaces of bare ground, over which sledge travel would be impossible. So they must wait until the autumnal storms were over and winter had settled down in earnest. But, impatient as they were, time no longer hung heavily on their hands, nor did they now regard their place of abode as a prison. Its solitude and dreariness had fled before the advent of half a hundred Eskimo--short, squarely built men, moon-faced women, and roly-poly children, looking like animated balls of fur, all of whom had been brought from the mission to form a settlement on the beach. It was easier to bring them to the Heaven-sent provisions that were to keep them until spring than it would have been to transport the heavy barrels of flour and pork to the mission. At the same time, they could protect the schooner from depredations by other wandering natives.

So they came, bag and baggage, babies, dogs, and all, and at once set to work constructing snug habitations, in which, with plenty of food and plenty of seal oil, they could live happily and comfortably during the long winter months. These structures were neither large nor elegant. In fact they were only hovels sunk half underground, with low stone walls, supporting roofs of whale ribs, covered thick with earth. A little later they would be buried beneath warm, shapeless mounds of snow. To most of them outside light and air could only be admitted through the low doorways, but one, more pretentious than the others, was provided with an old window sash, in which the place of missing panes was filled by dried intestines tightly stretched. In every hovel a stone lamp filled with seal oil burned night and day, furnishing light, warmth, and the heat for melting ice into drinking water, boiling tea, drying wet mittens, and doing the family cooking.

Cabot and White were immensely interested in watching the construction of these primitive Labrador homes. They were also amazed at the readiness with which the natives made themselves snugly safe and comfortable, in a place where they had despaired of keeping alive. Besides watching the Eskimo prepare for the winter and picking up many words of their language, Cabot took daily lessons in snowshoeing and the management of dog teams, in both of which arts White was already an adept.

According to contract, both lads had been provided with complete outfits for Arctic travel, including fur clothing, boots, and sleeping bags. A sledge with a fine team of dogs had also been placed at their disposal, and an intelligent young Eskimo, who could speak some English, was ready to guide them on their southward journey. He was introduced to his future travelling companions as Ildlat-Netschillik, whereupon Cabot remarked:

"That is an elegant name for special occasions, such as might occur once or twice in a lifetime, but seems to me something less ornamental, like 'Jim,' for instance, would be better for everyday use. I wonder if he would mind being called Jim?"

On being asked this question the young Eskimo, grinning broadly, said:

"A' yite. Yim plenty goot," and afterwards he always answered promptly and cheerfully to the name of "Yim."

At length snow fell for several days almost without intermission. Then a fierce wind took it in hand, kneading it, packing it, and stuffing it into every crack and cranny of the landscape until hollows were filled, ridges were nicely rounded, and rocks had disappeared. In the meantime, strong white bridges had been thrown across lake and stream, and the great Labrador highway for winter travel was formally opened to the public.

November was well advanced, and our lads had been prisoners in Locked Harbour for more than two months when this way of escape was opened to them. It had been decided that they should take a single large sledge, having broad runners, and a double team of dogs--ten in all. On this, therefore, was finally lashed a great load of provisions, frozen walrus meat for dog food, sleeping bags, the three all-important cooking utensils of the wilderness--kettle, fry-pan, and teapot--an axe, and Cabot's bag of specimens. With this outfit Yim was to conduct them over the first half of their 400-mile journey, or to Indian Harbour, where, through a letter from the missionary, they expected to procure a fresh team, renew their supply of provisions, and obtain another guide, who should go with them to Battle Harbour.

When the time for starting arrived, the entire population of the new settlement turned out to see them off and help get their heavily laden sledge up the steep ascent from the beach. At the crest of the bluffs the men fired a parting salute from their smooth-bore guns, the women and children uttered shrill cries of farewell, and the missionary gave them his final blessing, Yim cracked his eighteen-foot whiplash like a pistol shot, shouted to his dogs, and the yelping team sprang forward. Our lads gave a fond backward glance at their loved schooner, so far below them that she looked like a toy boat, and then, with hearts too full for words, they faced the vast white wilderness outspread like a frozen sea before them.

All that day they pushed steadily forward almost without a pause, holding a westerly course to pass around a deep fiord that penetrated far inland, and might not yet be crossed with safety. Yim ran beside his straining dogs, encouraging the laggards with whip and voice; White led the way and broke the trail, while Cabot brought up the rear and helped the sledge over difficult places.

For several hours they followed the signal line with its fluttering flags, and felt that they were still on familiar ground. At length even these were left behind, and for three hours longer they plodded sturdily forward, guided only by Yim's unerring instinct. Then the short day came to an end and night descended with a chill breath of bitter winds. Cabot was nearly exhausted, and even White was painfully weary, but both had been buoyed up by a hope that they might reach timber and have abundant firewood for their first camp. Now, when Yim, throwing down his whip and giving his dogs the command to halt, calmly announced that they would make camp where they were, both lads looked at him in dismay.

"We surely can't camp here in the snow without a fire or any kind of shelter!" exclaimed Cabot. "Why, man, we'll be frozen stiff long before morning."

"A' yite. Me fix um. You see," responded Yim, cheerfully.