Chain Locker (6 page)

He opened it and held it close to the dim, yellow lamp, the only source of light or warmth in the room. It was a single sheet of paper, much shorter than her other letters, which were usually filled with heartwarming stories about her pupils, the news of the town, the latest on the Ashbournes, the town's leading family, what was happening at church, the goings-on at the Women's Institute, a word or two about Gennie's health. But it didn't take much paper to say yes.

Dear Henry…

He stopped. Every letter she had ever written him began “Dearest Henry” or ”My Dear Henry.”

There was none of that. This time Emily got down to business.

You have been on my mind and in my heart constantly as I have considered
how to answer your proposal of marriage. I'm sorry I've kept you waiting
for so long.

The decision has been difficult, but I've decided that I'm not ready for
marriage. My decision is in no way a reflection on you. The problem lies with
me and not you. I have some things I need to sort out.

Be careful at the ice. If you want, we can talk some more when you get back.

With love,

Emily

Henry looked up from the letter and stared at the lamp. It was an apt companion, its dim, flat flame bravely trying to overcome the darkness, but unable to. He was numb.

He read it again but that did not change what the letter said. All the anticipation over the winter, awaiting the good news, had not prepared him for this bitter moment. All his visions of the future had Emily at the centre, and now he could feel his dreams fading into the darkness that crowded in on the little lamp.

Things to sort out? What things could she possibly have to sort out? he wondered. I'll bet her fear of marrying a sailor finally got to her. I should have told her I was willing to give up the sea, especially after that fiasco on my last trip. It's got to be that—or else I've been kidding myself and she doesn't love me at all.

No, she had told him she loved him. It had to be the sailor thing. But, even though he was ready to give all that up for her, had he actually told her so?

For some reason he was unable to explain, he had not. Nor had he told her the reason for his sudden return home last fall. He was claiming to have ambitions for a nautical career and yet here he was spending the winter at home. Why wasn't he gaining experience aboard a ship heading to the Caribbean or the Mediterranean? He was trying to have it both ways and she had probably sensed it in his behaviour. He had not been honest with her and she must have seen through it.

That's the reason and it's my own fault. I should have visited her more often. Maybe if I had spent more time with her, our relationship would have blossomed instead of fading like this. To hell with going to the ice; I'll head to Twillingate and throw myself at her feet.

No, time had run out. He couldn't let Simeon down after he had worked so hard to get him a berth. What a mess! The first love of his life was slipping through his fingers and he was powerless to do anything about it.

But wait. There was one thing he could do. If he couldn't go to Twillingate, he could at least write to her and ask her to wait until he returned. Yes, he would write her a letter. She couldn't just say no after keeping him waiting all this time, and expect him to take it without standing his ground.

There were some things she had a right to know, too, and he would lay all that out. He started rooting around for a piece of paper.

chapter eight

Within an hour of their departure the next morning the men were marching along the ice in a long line. Henry was silent but Simeon's new companions were a gabby pair.

“It was just like the glass, sir!” Dorman revelled to Selb, speaking of his trip with Simeon last year. “Just before we left, we had a mild spell with a little drop of rain to melt the snow off the ice—nice soft rain. Then she turned cold—no wind now, just cold—so when the water froze it set up as smooth as the top of Walt Clark's bald head. The whole bay just stretched away, like a big pane of glass. We put on our skates and were in Lewisporte by dark that evening.”

“I minds it well,” Selb replied. “We skated over to Samson's Island to see Titus and his family. There was people goin' everywhere. We even had a crowd over from Whale's Gulch.

“But, you know, 'twas a good thing that mild weather didn't come a week or two later, when fellers was way offshore on the whelping ice. You wouldn't want rain fallin' and havin' it turn cold when you're soakin' wet and miles away from shelter.”

Simeon spoke for the first time since they left Cottles Island. “Selb, you got your money for gettin' back if you don't get a berth?”

“Oh, yes.”

“You'll get a berth, Selb,” Dorman reassured him, with his usual confidence. “With Simeon speakin' for you, you can't go wrong.”

“I can only do what I can do. We'll have to see,” Simeon replied. “There's a lot of sealers that don't get a berth these years, good reliable men with families to feed. I heard there was hundreds stuck in St. John's last year after the fleet put out. They were in a bad way, too: no berth aboard a ship, no work and no money to get back home. And you'd be worse off than most of them, having over two hundred miles to cover.”

“Simeon, b'y, quit your worryin'!” said Dorman. “I got no doubt but that your say-so will get Selb aboard one of them vessels.”

“Well, you just got to be prepared for the worse, that's all I'm sayin',” Simeon replied.

“How many skippers want you on their vessel? I hear three was after you. You're one of the best master watches on the Front. You've never lost a man, right? There's not a sealer knows you that wouldn't want to be in your watch.”

“Times are tough, Darmy. I'm not a magician.”

“Thanks for taking me along, Simeon,” said Selb. “I feel honoured to be going to the ice with you. Darmy told me you were even in the English Navy.”

Simeon laughed. “If you're honoured to be with me, then you haven't seen many important people in your life.”

“How did you get to be a master watch, Simeon?” Selb asked.

“I suppose somebody decided that maybe I had learned something in the Navy.”

“He was so good they begged him to come back when the Great War started, right Simeon?” Darmy chimed in.

“I'm sure the Royal Navy could get along all right without me, Darmy. But, yes, I was a petty officer before the war. When I came back home and was at the ice, one of the skippers asked me if I wanted to be a master watch and I been doin' it ever since. When the war started they contacted some retired petty officers—not just me—and asked if we wanted to join back up. It's the petty officers that keep the ships runnin' smooth, you see. I almost went, but by then I had a family to provide for, so I thought it was right to put them first.”

“You been sailing for a good while then, I guess, eh?” said Selb.

“Yep, a fair while. I'll soon be fifty and I been at sea since I was fifteen. This summer, if I survive, I'll make my twenty-second trip to the Labrador and I been to the Grand Banks three times.”

“Ever been overseas—I mean other than with the Navy?”

“When I was younger than you I signed on to a steamer in St. John's and ended up in England, where three of us signed up for the Navy. They don't pamper you there, I'll tell you. The only thing worse is some of the sealing ships—although they're better than they used to be.”

Darmy grinned at Selb and winked. There were few things he enjoyed as much as one of Simeon's sea stories.

“After that, I made a few trips out of Twillingate on the
Annie B.
Hathaway
taking fish to Spain and coming back with a load of salt. She was a fine vessel, a big three-master, built up in the Green Bay. The last trip in her was rough, though. We got into a vicious hurricane that beat her to pieces. After three days of pounding, her planks started to open up. It got so bad that you couldn't go on deck because the deck boards would spread open so much you could get your foot stuck between them. They'd cut your foot cut clean off when they closed up again.”

“Did it happen to anybody?” Dorman asked.

“No. We had to stay inside at the pumps because she was leakin' like a basket by then. On the fourth day a steamer came by and got us off just before she went down. The worst of it, though, was that the steamer was going to the Mediterranean and we couldn't get off her until we got to the Suez Canal. It took us six months from the time we left Twillingate until we worked our way back home. Everybody thought we was dead!”

“I told you, Selb!” Darmy declared triumphantly. “This one got more stories in his head than there is rocks in Fox's dock. Tell us another one, Simeon.”

“Maybe later. I think I'll catch up to Henry and see how he's gettin' on.”

Darmy nattered on to Selb. “You're goin' to find workin' on a big sealer a lot different from gettin' a few seals out the back door, Selb. Oh, yes, my son, and this bit of walkin' we're doin' now is nothin' compared to the walkin' once we're into the seals. And the draggin', oh the work, the work! Selb, my son, 'tis pure doggery when you gets a tow of pelts on and you got to scote them for miles to the vessel. Mister, I'm telling you, then you'll be earnin' your keep!”

Selb listened with impatience, leaning his weight into towing the sleigh with his belongings. “Darm, will you quit lecturin' me! I've hauled my share of seals over the years.”

“And the hummocky ice,” Dorman rambled on. “That's the killer. All rifted in with big sheets on top of one another and you havin' to somehow get your way over it, with your gear and your sculps. It's not easy, no sir, 'tis not. You got no nicks or cuts on your fingers, have you?”

“I dunno. I might.”

“Well, you're leavin' home with ten fingers, you wants to come back with ten.”

“I'll come back with ten,” Selb declared with confidence. “I'll tell you one thing, though. I'm sick of luggin' these snowshoes. I'll bet we won't need to put them on again before we're back home. We should have left them back at Henry's.”

“No sir!” said Dorman. “You won't catch me away from home in winter with no showshoes.”

“What are we gonna do with them while we're on the trip?”

“Take 'em aboard, I suppose. We'll find a place to stow 'em. Did I ever tell you about the feller I knew from Black Island Tickle used to take his snowshoes sealin' with him? Said if he came to a soft spot in the ice they would keep 'im from fallin' through.”

“I've heard of fellers doin' that. I wouldn't be too fussy about having to walk on iced-up snowshoes. And I certainly wouldn't want to go through the ice with them on. Because one thing is for sure—you'd never get out again, not with snowshoes on. Too hard to haul them up through the broken ice.”

“I s'pose you could reach down into the water and feel around and get them undone, couldn't you?”

“Nah, you'd never get'em off. With all your winter clothes waterlogged and trying to feel around for the harnesses in the cold water, sure you'd be froze to death in no time.”

“Well, since we're takin' them along I might try them out if we get into some pummy ice.”

“Go ahead; you won't catch me doin' it.”

The six lonely figures plodded across the grey-white plain under a dull sky, with Henry in front. Simeon caught up to him.

“Injun Cove Neck,” he said, looking across the ice to the land on the left. “You done any pokin' around over there lately?”

“I used to, but I don't get much time anymore.”

“You ever find anything they left behind?”

“A few bits and pieces.”

“That's not what your mother tells me. She said you got a great collection of arrowheads and pottery and stuff. I wouldn't mind seeing it sometime.”

“Sure. Anytime.”

Silence.

“I hear they were terrible thieves. Always stealin' from the livyers up the river.”

“Maybe if you were starvin' to death you'd do the same thing.”

More silence.

“How's the studying comin'?”

“Pretty good, I guess,” he replied, barely above a whisper.

“When's the test?”

“Sometime during the summer,” he mumbled. “They're going to let me know.”

“Does that mean you won't be going on the Labrador? I suppose, though, you got all kinds of reasons to stay home,” he ventured, with a sly grin.

Not taking the bait, Henry replied, “I'm hoping it's late in the summer, after I get back from the Labrador. I'm going to try and find out while I'm in St. John's.”

“And you're still going ahead with it? Even after—”

“Course I'm goin' ahead with it. Why wouldn't I?”

“Oh, no reason,” said Simeon. “And after you pass this one, what will that give you—your Mate's ticket?”

“Yep. Then I'll be able to work as a junior officer on an oceangoing steamer.”

“And, someday, you'll make master mariner, I imagine?

“Hope so.”

“That'll make that young Osmond maid sit up and take notice.

The captain of a Canadian Pacific express passenger liner crossing the Atlantic! Cause a lowly sailor ain't enough for her; I can tell you that.”

“I hear there's a good lineup for spots on CP ships. I'll probably stay with Furness Warren. They're a pretty good crowd.”

Simeon got to the point: “You got a bit of a hangdog face on you there, b'y. A bit lovesick, are ya?”

No response.

“Cheer up, you'll be back in no time, with all kinds of money to spend on her.” Still getting no reaction, he continued, “But, if I was you, I wouldn't stay away for too long.”