Adrift in the Ice-Fields.

Copyright:
By LEE AND SHEPHARD.
1877.

PREFACE.

To open to the youth of America a knowledge of some of the winter sports of our neighbors of the maritime provinces, with their attendant pleasures, perils, successes, and reverses, the following tale has been written.

It does not claim to teach any great moral lesson, or even to be a guide to the young sportsman; but the habits of all birds and animals treated of here have been carefully studied, and, with the mode of their capture, have been truthfully described.

It attempts to chronicle the adventures and misadventures of a party of English gentlemen, during the early spring, while shooting sea-fowl on the sea-ice by day, together with the stories with which they whiled away the long evenings, each of which is intended to illustrate some peculiar dialect or curious feature of the social life of our colonial neighbors.

Later in the season the breaking up of the ice carries four hunters into involuntary wandering, amid the vast ice-pack which in winter fills the great Gulf of St. Lawrence. Their perils, the shifts to which they are driven to procure shelter, food, fire, medicine, and other necessaries, together with their devious drift and final rescue by a sealer, are used to give interest to what is believed to be a reliable description of the ice-fields of the Gulf, the habits of the seal, and life on board of a sealing steamer.

It would seem that the world had been ransacked to provide stories of adventure for the boys of America; but within the region between the Straits of Canso and the shores of Hudson's Bay there still lie hundreds of leagues of land never trodden by the white man's foot; and the folk-lore and idiosyncrasies of the population of the Lower Provinces are almost as unknown to us, their near neighbors.

The descendants of emigrants from Bretagne, Picardy, Normandy, and Poitou, still retaining much of their ancient patois, costume, habits, and superstitions; the hardy Gael, still ignorant of any but the language of Ossian and his burr-tongued Lowland neighbors; the people of each of Ireland's many counties, clinging still to feud, fun, and their ancient Erse tongue, together with representatives from every English shire, and the remnants of Indian tribes and Esquimaux hordes,—offer an opportunity for study of the differences of race, full of picturesque interest, and scarcely to be met with elsewhere.

The century which has with us almost realized the apostolic announcement, "Old things are passed away; behold, all things have become new," with them has witnessed little more than the birth, existence, and death of so many generations, and the old feuds and prejudices of race and religion, little softened by the lapse of time, still remain with their appropriate developments, in the social life of the scattered peoples of these northern shores.

Regretting that the will to depict those life-pictures has not been better seconded by more skill in word-painting, the author lays down his pen, hoping that the pencil of the artist will atone, in some degree, for his own "many short-comings."

• CHAPTERPAGE
• 
  
• 1. Our Company9
  2. Building the Ice-Houses.—Matthew Collins's Ghost19
  3. The Silver Thaw.—A Fox Hunt.—Anthony Worrell's Dog55
  4. The Grand Flight.—A Good Stratagem.—The Packet Light75
  5. A Mad Sportsman.—Snow-blind.—A Night Of Peril95
  6. Additions to the Party.—An Indian Outfit.—A Contested Election110
  7. A Change in the Weather.—Breaking up Of the Ice.—Jim Mountain's
     Fight with the Devil136
  8. Float-Shooting.—A General Field-Day.—Changes Of the Ice148
  9. Adrift158
  10. The Council.—Passing the Cape169
  11. Taking an Inventory.—Setting up the Stove175
  12. Doctoring Under Difficulties.—An Anxious Night.—Frozen up187
  13. The Chapel Bell.—The First Seal.—The North Cape.—A Snow-Squall199
  14. The Pack Opens.—Mysterious Murmurs.—Love Scenes and Sounds207
  15. A Sail.—The Sealing Grounds.—The Esquimaux Lamp.—An Indian Legend220
  16. The Breeding-Grounds of the Seal.—A Curious Sight.—A Sharp
      Encounter.—Ice Changes230
  17. Enlarging the Boat.—Winged Scavengers.—Notice To Quit244
  18. A Change of Base.—Building a Snow-Hut.—The View from the
      Berg.—A Strange Meeting254
  19. The Ring.—The Burial.—A Mausoleum of Ice263
  20. A Strange Life-History.—Among the Red Indians271
  21. Northward Again.—The Steamer.—Taking to the Boat287
  22. The Forecastle of the Sealer.—a Sealer's Story.—The Last
      Hunt.—Arrival at St. John's303
  23. The Captain's Visit.—Homeward Bound.—Brother and Sister313

ILLUSTRATIONS:

• AdriftFrontis
• Map of Prince Edward Island and the Northumberland Straits.8
• Capt. Lund headed a Party to assist their Friends32
• Gie me my Guse, Mon, and dinna delay me96
• Well, George, you're here at last126
• And the next Second the glittering Teeth were about to close upon his
  helpless Victim236
• On the Top of the Berg they felt repaid for the Fatigue of their Journey
  and Ascent256
• Kneeling beside it, the Lad bowed his Head as if in silent Prayer268
• In His Hands La Salle Waved the Banner296

CHAPTER I.

OUR COMPANY.

Five hundred miles away to the north and east lies the snug little Island of St. Jean; a beautiful land in summer, with its red cliffs of red sandstone and ruddy clay, surmounted by green fields, which stretch away inland to small areas of the primeval forest, which once extended unbroken from the shores of the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the waters of the Straits of Northumberland.

Drear and desolate is it in winter, when the straits are filled with ice, which, in the shape of floe, and berg, and pinnacle, pass in ghostly procession to and fro, as the wind wafts them, or they feel the diurnal impetus of the tides they cover, to escape in time from the narrow limits of the pass, and lose themselves in the vast ice-barrier that for five long months shuts out the havens of St. Jean from the open sea.

No ship can enter the deserted ports, over whose icy covering the farmer carries home his year's firing, and the young gallant presses his horse to his greatest speed to beat a rival team, or carry his fair companion to some scene of festivity twenty miles away. Many spend the whole winter in idleness; and to all engaged in aught but professional duties, the time hangs heavily for want of enjoyable out-of-door employment. It is, therefore, a season of rejoicing to the cooped-up sportsman when the middle of March arrives, attended, as is usually the case, by the first lasting thaws, and the advent of a few flocks of wild geese.

Among the wealthier sportsmen great preparations are made for a spring campaign, which often lasts six or eight weeks. Decoys of wood, sheet-iron, and canvas, boats for decoy-shooting and stealthy approach, warm clothes, caps, and mittens of spotless white, powder by the keg, caps and wads by the thousand, and shot by the bag, boots and moccasins water and frost proof, and a vast variety of small stores for the inner man, are among the necessaries provided, sometimes weeks in advance of the coming of the few scattering flocks which form, as it were, the skirmish line of the migrating hosts of the Canada goose.

It is usual for a small party to board with some farmer, as near as possible to the shooting grounds, or rather ice, for not infrequently the strong-winged foragers, who press so closely on the rearguard of the retreating frost king, find nothing in the shape of open water; but after leaving their comrades, dead and dying, amid the fatal decoys on the frozen channels, sweep hastily southward before cold, fatigue, hunger, and the wiles and weapons of man, can finish the deadly work so thoroughly begun.

Such a party of six, in the spring of 186-, took up their quarters with Captain Lund, a pilot, who held the larger portion of the arable land of the little Island of St. Pierre, which lies three miles south of the mouth of the harbor of C., and ends in two long and dangerous shoals, known as the East and West Bars.

The party was composed of Messrs. Risk, Davies (younger and older), Kennedy, Creamer, and La Salle. Mr. Henry Risk was an English gentleman, of about fifty-five years of age, handsome, portly, and genial, a keen sportsman, and sure shot with the long, single, English ducking-gun, to which he stuck, despite of the jeers and remonstrances of the owners of muzzle and breech-loading double barrels.

Davies the elder, an old friend of the foregoing, had for many years been accustomed to leave his store and landed property to the care of his partners and family, while, in company with Risk, he found in the half-savage life and keen air of the ice-fields a bracing tonic, which prepared them for the enervating cares of the rest of the year. The two had little in common—Risk being a stanch Episcopalian, and Davies an uncompromising Methodist. Risk, rather conservative, and his comrade a ready liberal; but they both possessed the too rare quality of respect for the opinions of others, and their occasional disputations never degenerated into quarrels.

Ben Davies, a nephew of the foregoing, and also a merchant, was an athletic young fellow, of about five feet eight, just entering upon his twenty-second year. A proficient in all manly exercises, and a keen sportsman, he entered into this new sport with all the enthusiasm of youth, and his preparations for the spring campaign were on the most liberal scale of design and expenditure. In these matters he relied chiefly on the skill, experience, and judgment of his right-hand man and shooting companion, Hughie Creamer.

Hughie was of Irish descent, and middle size, but compact, lithe, and muscular, with a not unkindly face, which, however, showed but too plainly the marks of habitual dissipation. A rigger by occupation, a sailor and pilot at need, a skilful fisherman, and ready shot, with a roving experience, which had given him a smattering of half a score of the more common handicrafts, Hughie was an invaluable comrade on such a quest, and as such had been hired by his young employer. It may be added, that a more plausible liar never mixed the really interesting facts of a changeable life with well-disguised fiction; and it may be doubted if he always knew himself which part of some of his favorite "yarns" were truths, and which were due, as a phrenologist would say, "to language and imaginativeness large, insufficiently balanced by conscientiousness."

Kennedy was a wiry little New Brunswicker, born just across the St. Croix, but a thorough-going Yankee by education, business habits, and naturalization. "A Brahmin among the Brahmins," he believed in the New York Tribune, as the purest source of all uninspired wisdom; and bitterly regretted that the manifold avocations of Horace Greeley had thus far prevented that truly great man from enlightening his fellow-countrymen on the habits and proper modes of capture of the Anser Canadiensis. As, despite his attenuated and dry appearance, there was a deal of real humor in his composition, Kennedy was considered quite an addition to our little party.

La Salle was—Well, reader, you must judge for yourself of what he was, by the succeeding chapters of this simple history, for he it is who recalls from the past these faint pen-pictures of scenes and pleasures never to be forgotten, although years have passed since their occurrence, and the grave has already claimed two of the six,—Risk, the robust English gentlemen, and Hughie, the cheery, ingenious adventurer. It is not easy to draw a fair picture of one's self, even with the aid of a mirror, and when one can readily note the ravages of time in thinning locks and increasing wrinkles, it is hard to speak of the robust health of youth without exaggeration. At that time, however, he was about twenty-three, having dark hair and eyes, a medium stature, and splendid health. Like Hughie, in a humbler sphere, he was a dabbler in many things,—lawyer, novelist, poet, trader, inventor, what not?—taking life easily, with no grand aspirations, and no disturbing fears for the future. In the intervals of business he found a keen delight in the half-savage life and wholly natural joys of the angler and sportsman, and ever felt that to wander by river and mere, with rod and gun, would enable him to draw from the breast of dear old Mother Earth that rude but joyous physical strength, with the possession of which it is a constant pleasure even to exist.

It was late at night when, by the light of the winter moon, the boats and decoys were unloaded from the heavy sleds, and placed in position on the various bars and feeding-grounds. The ice that season was of unusual thickness, and gave promise of lasting for many weeks. As under the guidance of Black Bill, they entered the farm-yard of his master, the elder Lund, they found the rest of the family just entering the house, and joining them, attacked, with voracious appetites, a coarse but ample repast of bacon, potatoes, coarse bread, sweet butter, and strong black tea. After this guns were prepared, ammunition and lunch got ready for the coming morning, for, with the earliest gleam of the rising sun, they were to commence the first short day of watching for the northward coming hosts of heaven.

The exact manner in which the ingenious Mrs. Lund managed to accommodate six sportsmen, besides her usual family of four girls, three boys, and a hired man, within the limits of a low cottage of about nine small apartments, has always been an unsolved mystery to all except members of the household. To be sure, Risk and the elder Davies occupied a luxurious couch of robes and blankets in the little parlor, and a huge settle before the kitchen stove opened its alluring recesses to Ben and his man Friday, while one of the elder sons and Black Bill shared with Kennedy and La Salle the largest of the upper rooms. In later years, the question of where the eight others slept, has attained a prominent place among the unsolved mysteries of life; but at that time all were tired enough to be content with knowing that they could sleep soundly, at all events.

Few have ever passed from port to port of the great Gulf, without meeting, or at least hearing, of "Captain Tom Lund," known as the most skilful pilot on the coast.

And when his skill could not make a desired haven, or tide over a threatened danger, the mariners of the Gulf deemed the case hopeless indeed.

Every winter, however, the swift Princess lay in icy bonds, beside the deserted wharves, and the veteran pilot went home to his farm, his little house with its brood of children, his shaggy horses, Highland cows, and long-bodied sheep, and became as earnest a farmer as if he had never turned a vanishing furrow on the scarless bosom of the ocean. Always pleasant, anxious to oblige, careful of the safety of his guests, and with a seaman's love of the wonderful and marvellous, he played the host to general satisfaction, and in the matter of charges set an example of moderation such as is seldom imitated in this selfish and mercenary world.

After supper, however, on this first evening, an unwanted cloud hung over the brow of the host, which yielded not to the benign influence of four cups of tea, and eatables in proportion; withstood the sedative consolations of a meerschaum of the best "Navy," and scarcely gave way when, with the two eldest of the party, he sat down to a steaming glass of "something hot," whose "controlling spirit" was "materialized" from a bottle labeled "Cabinet Brandy." After a sip or two, he hemmed twice, to attract general attention, and said, solemnly,—

"It is nonsense, of course, to warn you, gents, of danger, when the ice is so thick everywhere that you couldn't get in if you tried; but mark my words, that something out of the common is going to happen this spring, on this here island. I went over to the Pint, just now, after you came into the yard, to look up one of the cows, and saw two men in white walking up the track, just below the bank. I thought it must be some of you coming up from the East Bar, but all of a sudden the men vanished, and I was alone; and when I came into the yard, you were all here! Now something of the kind almost always precedes a death among us, and I shan't feel easy until your trip is safely over, and you are all well and comfortable at home."

"Now, Lund," said the elder Davies, "you don't believe in any such nonsense, do you?"

"Nonsense!" said Lund, quietly but gravely; "little Johnnie there, my youngest boy, will tell you that he has often seen on the East Bar the warning glare of the Packet Light, which often warns us of the approach of a heavy storm. It is nearly thirty years since it first glowed from the cabin windows of the doomed mail packet, but to all who dwell upon this island its existence is beyond doubt. Few who have sailed the Gulf as I have, but have seen the Fireship which haunts these waters, and more than once I have steered to avoid an approaching light, and after changing my course nearly eight pints, found the spectre light still dead ahead. No, gentlemen, I shan't slight the warning. If you value life, be careful; for if we get through the breaking up of the ice without losing two men, I shall miss my guess."

"Come, Tom," said Risk, quickly, "don't depress the spirits of the youngsters with such old-world superstitions. As you say, they couldn't get through the ice now if they would, without cutting a hole; and when the ice grows weak, will be time enough for you to worry. Take another ruffle to your night-cap, Tom, and you youngsters had better get to bed, and prepare to take to the ice at six o'clock, after a cup of hot coffee and a lunch of sandwiches. Here's luck all round, gentlemen."

The toasts were drank by the three elderly men, and re-echoed by the younger ones, who chose not to avail themselves of the proffered stimulant, and then all sought repose in their allotted quarters. Fifteen minutes later the house was in utter darkness and silence, through which the varied breathings of sixteen adults and children would have given ample opportunities for comparison to any waking auditor, had such there been; but no one kept awake, and to all intents and purposes "silence reigned supreme."

CHAPTER II.

Top

BUILDING THE ICE-HOUSES.—MATTHEW COLLINS'S GHOST.

At daybreak the gunners arose, and without disturbing the members of the family, took some strong, hot coffee, prepared by the indefatigable Creamer, and ate a breakfast, or rather lunch, of cold meats and bread and butter, after which all proceeded to don their shooting costume, which, being unlike that worn in any other sport, is worthy of description here.

In ice-shooting, every color but pure white is totally inadmissible; for the faintest shade of any other color shows black and prominent against the spotless background of glittering ice-field and snow-covered cliffs. Risk and his partner wore over their ordinary clothing long frocks of white flannel, with white "havelocks" over their seal-skin caps, and their gray, homespun pants were covered to the knee by seal-skin Esquimaux boots—the best of all water-proof walking-gear for cold weather. Risk carried the single ducking-piece before mentioned, but Davies had a Blissett breech-loading double-barrel. They had chosen their location to the north of the island, near a channel usually opening early in the season, but now covered with ice that would have borne the weight of an elephant. With much banter as to who should count first blood, the party separated at the door; the younger Davies and Creamer, with Kennedy and La Salle, plunging into the drifted fields to the eastward, and in Indian file, trampling a track to be daily used henceforward, until the snows should disappear forever. The two former relied on over-frocks of strong cotton, and a kind of white night-caps, while La Salle wore a heavy shooting-coat of white mole-skin, seal-skin boots reaching to the knee, and armed with "crampets," or small iron spikes, to prevent slipping, while a white cover slipped over his Astrachan cap, completed his outre costume. Kennedy, however, outshone all others in the strangeness of his shooting apparel. Huge "arctics" were strapped on his feet, from which seemed to spring, as from massive roots, his small, thin form, clad in a scanty robe de chambre of cotton flannel, surmounted by a broad sou'wester, carefully covered by a voluminous white pocket handkerchief. The general effect was that of a gigantic mushroom carrying a heavy gun, and wearing a huge pair of blue goggles.

La Salle alone of the four carried a huge single gun of number six gauge, and carrying a quarter of a pound of heavy shot to tremendous distances. The others used heavy muzzle-loading double-barrels. A brisk walk of fifteen minutes brought them to the extremity of the island, and from a low promontory they saw before them the Bay, and the East Bar, the scene of their future labors.

Below them the Bar, marked by a low ridge, rising above the level of the lower shallows,—for the tide was at ebb,—trended away nearly a league into the spacious bay, covered everywhere with ice, level, smooth, and glittering in the rising sun, save where, here and there, a huge white hummock or lofty pinnacle, the fragments of some disintegrated berg, drifted from Greenland or Labrador, rose along the Bar, where the early winter gales had stranded them. Leaping down upon the ice-foot, the party hastened to their respective stands, nearly a mile out on the Bar—Davies being some four hundred yards from that of La Salle.

The "stand" of the former was a water-tight box of pine, painted white, and about six feet square by four deep, which was quickly sunk into the snow-covered ice to about half its depth; the snow and ice removed by the shovel, being afterwards piled against the sides, beaten hard and smooth, and finally cemented by the use of water, which in a few moments froze the whole into the semblance of one of the thousands of hummocks, which marked the presence of crusted snow-drifts on the level ice.

La Salle, however, had provided better for comfort and the vicissitudes of sea-fowl shooting; occupying a broad, flat-bottomed boat, furnished with steel-shod runners, and "half-decked" fore-and-aft, further defended from the sea and spray by weather-boards, which left open a small well, capable of seating four persons. Four movable boards, fastened by metal hooks, raised the sides of the well to a height of nearly three feet, and a fifth board over the top formed a complete housing to the whole fabric. La Salle and Kennedy swung the boat until her bow pointed due east, leaving her broadsides bearing north and south; and then, excavating a deeper furrow in the hollow between two hummocks, the boat was slid into her berth, and the broken masses of icy snow piled against and over her, until nothing but her covering-board was visible.

A huge pile of decoys stood near, of which about two dozen were of wood, such as the Micmac Indian whittles out with his curved waghon, or single-handed draw-knife, in the long winter evenings. He has little cash to spend for paint, and less skill in its use, but scorches the smooth, rounded blocks to the proper shade of grayish brown, and, with a little lampblack and white lead, using his fore-finger in lieu of a brush, manages to imitate the dusky head and neck with its snowy ring, and the white feathers of breast and tail.

These rude imitations, with some more artistic ones, painted in profile on sheet-iron shapes, of life-size, and a few cork-and-canvas "floaters," were quickly placed in a long line heading to the wind, which was north-west, and tailing down around the boat, the southernmost "stools" being scarce half a gun-shot from the stands.

By the time these arrangements were completed it was nearly midday, and the sky, so clear in the morning, had become clouded and threatening. The chilly north-west breeze, which had made the shelter of their boats very desirable, had died away, and a calm, broken only by variable puffs of wind, succeeded.

"We shall have rain or snow to-night," remarked La Salle to Kennedy, who, after a few moments of watching, had curled himself down in the dry straw, and begun to peruse a copy of the Daily Tribune, his inseparable companion.

"Yes, I dare say. Greeley says—"

What Greeley said was never known, for at that moment a distant sound rung like a trumpet-call on the ear of La Salle, and amid the gathering vapors of the leaden eastern sky, his quick eye marked the wedge-like phalanx of the distant geese, whose leader had already marked the long lines of decoys, which promised so much of needed rest and welcome companionship, but concealed in their treacherous array nothing but terror and death.

"There they are, Kennedy! Throw your everlasting paper down, and get your gun ready. Put your ammunition where you can get at it quick; if you want to reload. Ah, here comes the wind in good earnest!"

A gust of wind out of the north-east whistled across the floes, and the next moment a thick snow-squall shut out the distant shores, the lowering icebergs, the decoys of their friends, in fact, everything a hundred yards away.

"Where are the geese?" asked Kennedy, as, with their backs to the wind, the two peered eagerly into the impenetrable pouderie to leeward.

"They were about two miles away, in line of that hummock, when the squall set in. I'll try a call, and see if we can get an answer."

"Huk! huk!" There was a long silence, unbroken save by the whistle of the blasts and the metallic rattle of the sleety snow:

"Ah-huk! ah-huk! ah—"

"There they are to windward. Down, close; keep cool, and fire at the head of the flock, when I say fire!" said La Salle, hurriedly, for scarce sixty yards to windward, with outstretched necks and widespread pinions, headed by their huge and wary leader, the weary birds, eager to alight, but apprehensive of unseen danger, swung round to the south-west, and then, setting their wings, with confused cries, "scaled" slowly up against the storm to the hindmost decoy.

"Hŭ-ŭk! hŭ-ŭk!" called La Salle, slowly and more softly.

"Huk! hū-uk!" answered the huge leader, not a score of yards away, and scarce ten feet from the ice.

"Let them come until you see their eyes. Keep cool! aim at the leader! Ready!—fire!"

Bang! bang! roared the heavy double-barrel, as the white snow-cloud was lit up for an instant with the crimson tongues of levin-fire, and the huge leader, with a broken wing, fell on the limp body of his dead mate. Bang! growled the ponderous boat-gun, as it poured a sheet of deadly flame into the very eyes of the startled rearguard.

A mingled and confused clamor followed, as the demoralized flock disappeared in the direction of the next ice-house, from which, a few seconds later, a double volley told that Davies and Creamer had been passed, at close range, by the scattered and frightened birds.

La Salle reloaded, and then leaped upon the ice, and gave chase to the gander, which he soon despatched, and returning, picked up Kennedy's other bird, with three which lay where "the Baby" had hurled her four ounces of "treble B's." Composing the dead bodies in the attitude of rest among the other decoys, he returned to the boat, and for the first time perceived that the geese were not the only bipeds which had suffered in the late bombardment.

Leaning over the side-boards of the boat, the fastenings of which were broken or unfastened, appeared Kennedy, apparently engaged in deep meditation, for his head was bowed until the broad rim of his preposterous head-covering effectually concealed his face from view.

"Here, Kennedy, both your birds are dead, and noble ones they are."

"I'm glad of it, for I'm nearly dead, too," came in a melancholy snuffle from the successful shot, at whose feet La Salle for the first time perceived a huge pool of blood.

"Good Heavens! are you hurt? Did your gun burst?" asked La Salle, anxiously.

"No, I've nothin' but the nose-bleed and a broken shoulder, I reckon. Braced my back against that board so as to get good aim, and I guess the pesky gun was overloaded; and when she went off it felt like a horse had kicked me in the face, and the wheel had run over my shoulder."

"Didn't you know better than to put your shoulder between the butt of a gun like that and a half ton of ice?" asked La Salle. "Why, you've broken two brass hooks, and knocked down all the ice-blocks on that side. Can't I do anything to stop that bleeding? Lay down, face upward, on the ice. Hold an icicle to the back of your neck."

"No, thank you; I guess it will soon stop of itself. A little while ago I cut some directions for curing nose-bleed out of the Tribune, and I guess they're in my pocket-book. Yes, here they are: 'Stuff the nostrils with pulverized dried beef, or insert a small plug of cotton-wool, moistened with brandy, and rolled in alum.' I'll carry some brandy and alum the next time I go goose-shooting."

"Or provide a lunch of dried beef," laughed La Salle; "but you had better keep your shoulder free after this, and you'll have no trouble. There, the bleeding has stopped, and you'd better load up, while I clean away this blood, and cover the boards with clean ice."

In a short time the marks of the disaster were removed, and the hunters again took shelter from the increasing storm, which had set in harder than ever. The snow, however, inconvenienced the friends but little, and as Kennedy could not read, they talked over the cause of his little accident.

"I had no idea that a gun could kick with such force. I shan't dare to fire her again, if another flock puts in an appearance," said the disabled goose-shooter.

"Had your shoulder been free, you would not have felt the recoil, which, even in a heavy, well-made gun, is equal to the fall of a weight fifty to sixty pounds from a height of one foot, and in overloaded or defective guns, exceeds twice and even three times that. It is a wonder that your shoulder was not broken, and a still greater wonder that you killed your birds."

At this moment a hail came from the direction of the other boat, which was answered by La Salle, and in a few moments, after several halloos and replies, two human forms were seen through the scud, and Ben and Creamer made their appearance, gun in hand. A brace of geese, held by the necks, dangled by the side of the latter, and showed that their shots had not been thrown away.

"This storm will last all night," said Davies, anxiously, "and we're only an hour to sundown. Creamer, here, started a little while ago to find out what you had shot. He lost his way, and was going right out to sea past me, when I called to him, and I thought we had better try to get ashore before it gets any darker."

"Does any one know in just what direction the Point lies?" asked Creamer, with that "dazed" expression peculiar to persons who have been "lost."

"Our boat lies nearly in a direct line east and west, and a line intersecting her stem and stern will fall a few rods inside of the island. We are about three quarters of a mile from the house, and by counting thirteen hundred and twenty paces in that direction, we should find ourselves near the shore, just below the house, if our course was correct," said La Salle.

"Yes," said Creamer, "but no man can keep a straight line in a storm like this, when one hummock looks just like another, and there isn't a star to lay one's course by."

"I once saw in the Tribune," said Kennedy, eagerly, "a way to lay a farm-line by poles stuck in the ground. It also recommended 'blazing' trees in the woods for the same purpose."

"To blazes with yer poles and blazed trees, Mr. Kennedy, saving yer presence; all the newspapers in Boston can't teach me anything in laying a straight line where I can have or make marks that can be seen; but there are no poles here, and we couldn't see them if we had them."

"Creamer, don't get so desperate. Kennedy has furnished the idea, and I think I can get the party ashore without any trouble. Now let all get ready to start, and I'll lay the course for the others."

In a few moments the decoys were stacked to prevent drifting, and the boat covered so that no snow could penetrate. A pair of small oars were first, however, removed, which were set upright at either extremity of the boat, and in direct line with the keel.

"There is our proper direction," said La Salle. "Now, Creamer, take your birds, gun, and one decoy, and align yourself with these oars when you have counted one hundred paces. When you have done so, face about and turn the beak of the decoy towards the boat. Now, Ben," continued he, when this was done, "walk up within twenty yards of Creamer, and let me align you; Kennedy will go with you, and, counting one hundred paces beyond Creamer, will be aligned by you. You will then be relieved by me, and placing yourself behind Kennedy, will direct Creamer to the right position, when he has paced one hundred yards farther. At every other hundred yards an iron decoy must be placed, pointing towards the boat."

The plan thus conceived was carried out until thirteen hundred paces had been counted, when La Salle, begging all to keep their places, hurried to the front. It was now nearly dark, and nothing but driving snow was anywhere visible. Creamer was at the lead, but disconsolate and terrified, having utterly lost his reckoning.

"We're astray, sir, completely," he said, hopelessly. "Mother of Heaven!" he ejaculated, as a dim radiance shone through the scud a little to their rear, "there's the 'Packet Light,' and we are lost men."

Buffeted by the heavy gusts and sharp sleet which froze on the face as it fell, La Salle felt for a moment a thrill of the superstitious fear which had overcome the usually stout nerves of his companion; but his cooler nature reasserted itself, although he knew that no house stood in the direction of the mysterious light, which seemed at times almost to disappear, and then to shine with renewed radiance.

"There is nothing earthly about that thing, sir. Macquarrie's house is a long piece from the shore, and Lund's is hidden by the woods. See; look there, sir, for the love of Heaven!" and the stout sailor trembled like a child as the light, describing a sharp curve, rose ten or twelve feet higher into the air, where it seemed to oscillate violently for a few seconds, and then to be at rest.

"Let us hail it, any way," said La Salle; "perhaps we have made some house on the opposite shore."

"We haven't gone a mile, sir; and as for hailing that, sir, I'd as soon speak the Flying Dutchman, and ask her captain aboard to dinner."

"Well, I'll try it, anyhow.—'Halloo! Light, ahoy!'" he shouted, placing his hands so as to aid the sound against the wind, which blew across the line of direction between them and the mysterious light. Again and again the hail was repeated, but no answer followed.

"You may call until doomsday, but they who have lit that lamp will never answer mortal hail again. They died thirty falls ago, amid frost and falling snow, ay, and foaming breakers, on this very bar, and the men on shore saw the light shiver, and swing, and disappear, as we saw it just now."

"Well, I don't believe in that kind of light, and I, for one, am going to see what it is. Now, don't move from your place, but watch the light, and if you hear the report, or see the flash, of my gun, answer it once with both barrels, counting three between the first and second shots. If I fire a second time, call all hands and come ashore."

"Well, Master Charley, I wouldn't venture it for all on the face of the earth; but we must do something, and the Lord be between ye and harm. See, now," he added, in a lower tone, "you're a heretic, I know, the Virgin pardon ye; but I'll say a Pater and two Aves, and if you never come back—"

"There, there, Hughie, old fellow, don't go mad with your foolish fears. Pray for yourself and us, if you please, for it is a terrible night, and we may well stand in need of prayer; but do your duty like a man. Stand in your place until I summon you, and then come, if a score of ghosts stand in the way."

The next second Hughie stood alone, watching the tremulous radiance of the mysterious beacon, which La Salle rapidly approached, not without fear, it may be, but with a settled determination superior to the weakness which he felt, for the danger, exposure, and settled fears of his companion had almost transmitted their contagion to his own mind. As he drew nearer, however, the apparition resolved itself into a large reflecting lantern, suspended from a pole, in the hands of Captain Lund, who had headed a party to assist their friends to find the shore. The approach of our hero was not at first noticed, as he came up the bank a little to the rear of the party.

"I'm sure, gentlemen, I don't know what to advise; and yet we can't let them perish on the floes. We had better get the guns, and build a bonfire on the cape below; perhaps they may see it; but it wasn't for nothing that I saw those men the other night. Poor La Salle laughed at it, but if he was here now—"