Far Horizons (13 page)

Douglas MacPherson shook his head, nibbling at his lip in an anxious manner. "It looks too rough today. Perhaps we should wait."

"I'm not waiting," Archie declared. "Look, we could almost walk across!" He stepped onto a chunk of ice and did a little jig. "See?"

"You won't be dancing when we're in the middle of that," Douglas said, pointing to the ice-laden waters.

Archie raised his eyebrows in eloquent and damning silence. Doulgas frowned unhappily, clearly seeing the folly of the expedition, yet unwilling to be labelled a coward.

Allan had no such fears. “Leave off, Archie. If Douglas says it’s dangerous, then I ken it’s true. He’s lived here longer than we have.”

“Yesterday he told me he’d done it before!” Archie glanced at Douglas, his smile sardonic. “You were brave sitting by the fire, Douglas. What’s changed?”

Allan felt a spurt of anger and he strove to keep his voice even. “We’re all brave by the fire. Enough, now. We’ll go later in the season, like sensible men.”

“Ah,” Archie replied softly, “but I’ve never been a sensible man.” There was a glitter in Archie’s eyes that Allan had never seen before, a gleam of recklessness far beyond his usual insouciance that chilled him even more than the frozen waters by their feet.

“And if you take us with you to your icy grave, how will that be on your conscience?” Allan demanded.

Archie shrugged. “I’m not whipping you into the boat, am I?”

“You can hardly go alone, you don’t even know the route! And you’ve never paddled through ice floes before. You’d be in the water before we’d even lost sight of you.”

“Such touching confidence!” Archie spread his arms wide. “Still, I think I’ll place the wager.” He turned to Douglas. “Coming, or are you as womanish as my brother?”

Allan clenched his fists and forced himself to ignore the unjust jibe. He knew Archie loved to stir things up simply for the pleasure of seeing the trouble he’d caused, yet this was farther than he usually dared to go, and the wager he talked of placing affected them all.

Douglas stared at his feet, looking miserable. “Aye, I’ll come.” He stepped reluctantly into the iceboat.

Archie waved at Allan. “Keep the soup warm for us,” he mocked, “we’ll be hungry when we return, no doubt.”

“I’m coming too,” Allan replied, his voice little more than a growl. “I can hardly let you go alone.”

“Can’t you? Or did Father tell you to keep me on leading strings?” There was a ragged note of bitterness in Archie’s voice that caused Allan to turn his head.

“He’s never...”

“Who accompanied him on visits to the crofts? To Riddell?” Allan shook his head in denial, but Archie pressed on. “You may chafe at how he treats you, brother, but it’s a sight more than what he has for me.”

Allan stared at his brother for a moment, saw the careless laughter in his dark eyes replaced by something cold and hard, a kernel of bitterness nursed for longer than he knew. The wind, even by the shore, was cold and raw.

Archie gave a little smile. “I never asked you to be my keeper.”

“I know you haven’t. But Father--”

“Ah, but that’s where we differ, brother,” Archie cut him off. “You care what Father thinks. I don’t.” He turned away to speak to Douglas, and Allan was left feeling cast adrift in more ways than he cared to number.

They pushed off from the shore. Lightweight and little more than a canoe, the boat was made to be carried across the larger ice floes, but it did not inspire confidence--or stability--out in the more open waters.

The wind was biting and as the island grew smaller behind them, Allan could see why the Mi'kmaq, who had settled there thousands of years ago, had named it
Abergweit
, 'Cradled by the waves'. Prince Edward Island was truly a small smudge of land surrounded by a vast and relentless ocean.

It was only twelve miles to the mainland, but progress was painstakingly slow. Douglas crouched in the stern, shouting directions while Archie and Allan paddled, their numb hands curled around the paddle handles.

They'd just cleared an open stretch of water and were navigating between two large ice floes when Douglas suddenly shouted, "Turn around! Turn round, quick as you can!"

Allan stared helplessly at the ice floes that came to jam on either side of them. There was no way to turn around. It was too late, and soon he saw why.

With a heavy thud that sent them all to their knees, the boat jammed into a wide fissure in an ice floe. There was ice on three sides, and little way to get out.

They were all silent for a moment, the air surprisingly still, their breath coming in frosty puffs.

"Can you shift it?" Archie asked.

Douglas shook his head. "Not enough, with the ice on either side. It's jammed right in. Perhaps if we all try..." He glanced behind, his face paling. An outcropping of ice had broken off from a larger floe and floated towards them, pushed by the icy water. It wedged itself in behind the boat, locking them in completely.

Ice blocked them on all four sides. In every direction there was only more ice-strewn water, cold, unforgiving, promising nothing but despair.

"It's no good," he said hoarsely.

"What do you mean?" Allan demanded. "You've done this before, haven't you? There must be a way out. The ice will shift itself, or we will."

Douglas stared at him with wide, hopeless eyes for a moment before shaking his head. “Have you ever tried to move ice? You might as well empty the ocean with a spoon. It won’t move, and we’ll likely damage the boat if we try.”

“Then we’re to wait here till we freeze to death?” Allan asked in disbelief. Anger followed fast, crashing over him in a useless wave. He suppressed a violent shiver.

“Another boat might come.” Even as he said it, Douglas seemed to know what a feeble hope this was. “They know we’ve gone...”

“They’ll think we spent the night in Pictou,” Allan said flatly. “We’d hardly set back in the dark.”

“Still, someone might come. If a boat came near us, we could cross that ice floe to it, but even that's dangerous."

"I thought we were meant to cross the floes!"

"Big ones. These are all small. A man could fall through, or topple over. They're little more than boulders."

"Will the ice shift by itself?" Allan asked. His mind was racing as if through a maze, looking for a chance of escape. "Surely it will break up on its own."

"Perhaps... in time." Douglas shrugged.

"Then we can wait for that,” Allan said with a firmness borne from desperation.

Douglas gave him an almost pitying look. "When the sun sets it will be below freezing, and we're out here in the open. How long do you suppose we'll last?"

The helpless rage inside him spilled over. "If it was so dangerous, why did you agree to go?"

Archie had been listening to their conversation, a faint smile on his face. Now he spoke quietly. “You know as well as I do it was my idea, Allan. Douglas wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t called him a coward.” Douglas stared at his feet. “He told me we should wait till after the syruping.”

“A fine time to mention that,” Allan snapped.

“And,” Archie continued, ignoring Allan, “you wouldn’t have gone at all, if you didn’t have this ridiculous notion that you need to keep watch over me.”

“You knew I’d come,” Allan said in a choked voice, and Archie shrugged.

“I supposed I did.”

“Then perhaps,” Allan said, struggling to keep his voice even, “you can find a way to get us out of this fankle.” He paused, the fury and despair hardening inside himself so he felt like a different person. A stranger. “Because if you don’t, you've killed us. You’ve killed us all."

Archie merely smiled, and Allan realised he was most angry with himself, for agreeing to Archie's foolish plan. He could have persuaded him otherwise, surely, and prevented this disaster. The fault was his, for being led by his brother yet again.

"I'm not willing to give up quite that easily," Archie replied with a jaunty grin, although Allan saw that his face was pale. "Douglas, what chance is there of another boat coming out in this cold, and finding us?”

Douglas swallowed audibly. “None,” he admitted. “No one goes out this early.”

"Well, then," Archie replied, "I'll just have to go get one."

"You can't!" Douglas grabbed his sleeve as Archie stood up. "The ice is too dangerous, Archie. It may look solid, but see how it's black underneath? You'll go right through, and you won't last more than two minutes in that water."

"We haven't another chance," Archie replied. "And I'm deft on my feet, remember?" He glanced out at the water. "There are ice floes as far as I can see, and surely that's a good sign."

"It's madness!" Douglas shook his head vehemently. "We must be six miles from the mainland."

And six miles from the island as well, Allan realised. Trapped in the middle.

"Douglas is right, Archie," he said. "There must be another way."

"And what way would that be?" Archie asked.

"Someone will realise...”

Archie shook his head. “We’ve already said they’ll think we spent the night in Pictou. Douglas, did you even tell anyone you were coming out?”

Douglas shook his head. “They would’ve thought me mad.”

Archie turned to Allan. “Father doesn’t even realise the danger, he’s that ignorant of the ways here! No one is coming to look for us,” he finished flatly, and Allan knew it was true.

“Going out there alone is as good as a death warrant,” he said in a low voice. “Archie, let me go.”

Archie laughed, the sound echoing like a gunshot across the sea, ricocheting off the ice. “I won’t let you play the hero that easily. Can you imagine what my life would be like? No, I’ll do it.”

“I can’t--”

“I’m not asking you permission,” Archie said coolly, “as I recall. It was my fault we’re in this fankle, you said so yourself. Now let me take the responsibility off your stooped shoulders, brother. There’s far too much placed there as it is.”

Or not enough, Allan thought. He’d craved more responsibility at the farm, but he didn’t want this. Never this.

“All right,” he said at last. “God be with you.”

“He always is.” With a mocking salute he stepped out of the boat onto the ice.

Both Douglas and Allan held their breath as they watched Archie navigate the ice. He leapt nimbly from boulder to boulder, yet at times it looked as if he would topple into the rushing water. Several times he reached a dead end, with no further ice to reach, and had to carefully retrace his steps back.

The mist was closing in, and after a short while they could see him no longer, although they could still hear him as he called out his progress in a cheerful voice. Then his voice grew fainter, until after awhile it faded completely and they could not hear him at all.

Without the sound of Archie's calls, it seemed ominously quiet. The silence of the sea was broken only by the sudden, loud cracks of the ice breaking up, each one an unsettling reminder of their grim situation.

Allan realised he was shivering. The air was heavy and wet, yet sharp with cold. He pulled his scarf up around his face and clenched his fingers together in his fur lined gloves to restore the feeling in them. He'd no desire to get frostbite again. He'd no desire to die.

Would he die out here, Allan wondered. It seemed likely. How on earth would Archie navigate six miles of open sea, especially with the mist closing in? His brother had been brave, but foolish.

And he, Allan, had been just as stupid, and not even brave at that. He closed his eyes, his face contorted with regret.

He would never make his fortune. He would never see Harriet again.

He tried to imagine her dear face. If only he’d ignored her father’s refusal, begged Harriet to come with him. They could have had a married life together already.

And now you would make her a widow?

The quiet voice inside him made his head bow in shame. He could not have ignored David Campbell’s request, if only because he believed in it himself. Harriet deserved more than what he had to offer now.

Perhaps she deserved more than him.

Would she hear word of his death? Would she marry someone else? The thought brought him both pain and a sense of relief, that she might be provided for and happy.

The hours passed in numbing, agonising slowness. They lay down together in the bottom of the boat to keep warm, although it meant they would be less likely to be seen. Even there it was cold, with the ice pressed in on both sides.

"Do you think he'll make it through?" Douglas asked, his voice small in the vastness of the ice strewn wasteland. "It's madness."

"I know it is." Allan kept clenching and unclenching his fingers. The cold was seeping into his very bones, making it hard for him to move or even think. "That's Archie, though."

"Even if he does make it, he won't be long for this world," Douglas said, with both admiration and warning. "Not when he insists on these schemes!"

"If he does make it," Allan acknowledged quietly, "he'll have saved our lives."

"There's small hope of that," Douglas said without bitterness. "In this weather... he's been gone three hours, at least. He's probably dead, and we might as well be."

"Don't say it!" Allan's voice was harsh, and took more effort than he realised. His breath caught in his chest painfully. Was Archie dead, lost forever in the icy seas? As they would be, most likely, in a few hours...

The faces of his family drifted before his closed eyes, as he imagined their grief and their silent reproach. Even in his cold induced daze, he couldn't shake the feeling that all of this was his responsibility, his fault.

As the mist descended over the water like a shroud, Allan fell into a numbing sleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Don't want to!" The little girl slammed her hands onto the keys of the pianoforte, creating a jangling disharmony.

"Please, Caroline, one more time through your scales, and then today's lesson will be over."

Harriet sighed inwardly as Caroline jutted her lip out in mutinous denial. She'd been teaching Caroline Campbell the pianoforte for the last three months, but little progress had been made. Although the girl possessed a certain innate ability, her appalling manners and fierce opposition to instruction of any kind was proving difficult indeed.