Chain Locker (35 page)

“Froze up? What do you mean?” said Jackie.

“Too much death, I guess,” Henry said thoughtfully. “Losing Darmy like we did, after that awful mess on the
Viking
and then buddy turning up dead right on our doorstep…and something else happened to me...”

“Yeah?”

“When I was at sea. Last fall we were anchored in Halifax waiting to pull in to the wharf to unload a cargo of fruit from Jamaica. The mate told me and another fellow to do some painting on the hull. We were sittin' on a plank suspended down the side, exactly like the side sticks on the
Viking
. While we were working, they raised the anchors so the mate called down for us to come up. We took too long…trying to finish the spot we were working on, and didn't the ship start to move, so the mate yelled down again for us to get the hell up out of it.

“In a rush I stood up on the plank and my buddy was just gettin' up. To this day I don't know what happened, but somehow he slipped and made a grab for me and down we went, the two of us, hanging on to one another. The ship was in the middle of a turn, so as soon as we struck the water the stern swung out over us. When I opened my eyes, I could see the rivets on the bottom of the ship, and there was the propeller slicing its way towards us. We were no more than a few seconds away from it. My buddy was hanging on to me for dear life—I guess he couldn't swim; I don't know. I just know I shook him off and tried to get out of there. Anyway, the suction from the prop got hold of him…and he went through.”

Henry paused. “God rest his soul.

“I couldn't swim against it, and it started to pull me in—it was awful—but then, just when I expected to be chopped up, I banged sideways into something. It was the prop, stopped dead. When we went overboard, the order had gone down to stop the engine. It happened just in time for me but not for him. I bounced off the prop, and rolled over the blade and came up by the rudder, gasping for air.”

He glanced up at Jackie.

“I think I got over it, but I haven't been able to shake the feeling that his death was my fault. If I had insisted that we use a proper bosun's chair instead of sitting on a plank, we wouldn't have fallen. The number of times I've come close to disaster because I couldn't be bothered to take an extra minute…Pop was always after me about it. It's a wonder I never broke every bone in my body.”

He looked longingly at the distant cliffs of Twillingate Island. “And I shouldn't have shook him off like I did. I should have held onto him and got us out of there somehow. But it all happened so fast.”

“What was his name?”

“Sandy. Sandy MacInnis…from Cape Breton. I took the train up from Halifax and visited his family. And then we lost Darmy…my fault again. I been havin' a hard time gettin' over that one, I'll tell you. Then, when you went in, it was too much. I felt like I just shut down. I'm sorry, Jack.”

“Never mind that. You got me out; that's all that matters. We got other stuff to worry about, now.”

“Yeah, but I thought you deserved to know. I can't believe this mess we're in. I shoulda taken care of you better.”

“How could you have taken better care of me?” Jackie asked impatiently. “You saved my ass at least three times this week.”

“I should've known better than to tangle with that seal,” said Henry. “I should have left her be.”

“You had no choice,” said Jackie. “Just like I got no choice now.”

“Overconfident, see? I used to love to hear people say that I was fearless; it's a wonder I didn't kill myself showin' off. I guess it was just to prove to myself that I wasn't scared.”

Jackie was looking curiously at him. “What do you think of that?” said Henry. “I guess you never heard anybody talk like that before, eh?”

“You don't have to talk like that,” said Jackie.

“I do,” said Henry. “I'll tell you, feelings can be hard to figure out sometimes.”

“I think I better be goin'.” said Jackie gently.

“Yeah, I know. I guess I don't want you to go, so I just keep blabbin' on to stretch out our last few minutes. You been a good buddy, Jack.”

Jackie stood silently, saddened that Henry should feel the need to apologize. “And you took good care of me,” he replied.

Despite all they had been through, he was more afraid now than he had ever been and unsure how he could possibly manage without Henry's steadying hand and common sense. The road ahead looked impossible to navigate. He stared out at the separated floes sitting placidly on the flat water and then, with the gaff in his right hand, he jumped across to a small pan. He hesitated, and then turned and jumped back, the pan skidding back from his foot as he almost went into the water. He laid down the gaff and removed his heavy coat and covered Henry with it.

“Now don't be doin' that, Jack,” said Henry. “Here, you'll need that coat.”

“I'm better off without it. It gets in the way when I jump, and if I fall in it will just drag me down, so what good is it to me? You need it more than I do. I'll be warm enough dancin' around on the ice.” He produced a rare smile, trying to look confident. “Now I don't look like a soldier anymore. I look like a sealer,” he said, removing the pouch from his pocket and hooking it to his belt.

He looked for a longmoment at Henry as if he were trying to commit his features to memory, and finally said, “I'll see you tomorrow.”

In ten minutes he had progressed less than a hundred feet.

Neither of them spoke again. Henry watched as the darkness slowly descended and enveloped Jackie's diminishing form until there was nothing out there but blackness, interrupted by the pencil-thin beam of the lighthouse. The last Henry saw of him, he was almost out of sight, on a tiny clumper trying to paddle it with the gaff.

chapter thirty-nine

Jim Osmond sat grim-faced on the daybed, watching Emily pace back and forth in the kitchen. He was heavy-hearted at not being able to help his daughter and worried that she might never forgive him if he did not bring Henry back alive. She was impatient by nature, a person of action, and it was clear that the lack of action was grinding on her. He glanced at Ada in her rocking chair near the stove, trying to concentrate on her knitting. For the second time he saw her unravel a couple of rows and start over. It was going to be a long wait until morning.

“Do you hold out any hope at all, Daddy?”

“I won't lie to you,” he said. “A lot depends on the weather, and given the state of the ice, it will be hard sloggin'. We'll be in and out of the punts a lot. There will likely be three of us haulin' each one over the ice more than we'll be rowing them through the water. It will be slow going so there's no guarantee we'll be able to get to whoever is out there.”

“Thank you, Daddy, for being willing to go tomorrow. If anyone can find them, you can,” she said as she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I think I'll go over to the hospital to visit with Gennie for a while.”

“That's a good idea, dear,” said Ada. “She'll be right pleased to see you. There's nothing else can be done this evening. I'm going to get your father off to bed now in a few minutes; he'll have to be up long before daylight.”

As Emily stepped outside the door, she heard a cheery, “Good evening, Emily.”

“Hello, Basil.”

“How convenient catching you like this. I just heard the news about smoke being sighted and thought I would drop over to see if I can be of service. Is anything being considered in response?”

“There certainly is,” Emily said as she swept by him, pulling on a pink mitten. “Perhaps you might like to join one of the rescue groups; you'll find it to be unlike anything you've ever done before.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, as he ran to catch up. “Actually I wasn't thinking that I would be a part of the search party.”

“No?”

“No. I was thinking I might perhaps help in some other way.”

“I'm sure Daddy will be happy to fill you in on tomorrow's plans.

I'm on my way to visit Gennie at the hospital.”

“Oh, I'll accompany you,” he said. “It will be nice to see Gennie again.”

“I suppose you were too busy to visit her today?”

“I intended to, but it was a very full day. I always enjoy visiting with Gennie.”

Emily was in no mood to talk. Basil finally spoke. “So, I take it those who understand such things think this wisp of smoke has significance?” “Of course they do! Daddy and the other men say it was from seal pelts being burned. It's the best way to send a signal if you're stuck out on the ice.”

“Did it come from a long ways away?”

“Nine or ten miles, they think.”

“Will they be able to travel that far over the ice?” he said. “There doesn't seem to be much of it. I wouldn't want them to do anything foolish,”

“They are not foolish men!” Emily responded crisply. “They are very brave men who know what they're doing,”

“Of course! I would never imply that they are not brave. I'm just concerned that they're sure the risk is worth it…I mean, that they aren't putting themselves in danger for a vain hope.”

Emily stopped. “I'm not following you, Basil. What exactly are you trying to say?”

“Well, do you really think he's still alive? How could he possibly have survived out there after all this time, probably without the proper clothing, certainly with no food or water? It has been quite cold, and you know, Emily, we've had a storm since then.”

Emily felt her heart sinking. The smoke had given her hope and now he was trying to steal it from her, diminishing its significance by calling it a “wisp.” She could not deny the truth of what Basil was saying, but she owed it to Henry not to give up hope, to push as far as she possibly could to have him found, no matter what the outcome, and she was not going to be diverted. “Basil, I want no more of this talk; none of it. Do you understand?”

“Of course, Emily,” he replied quickly, in a tone of desperation. “I don't mean to discourage you; I just don't want you to have hope that may turn to disappointment. I realize this is a difficult time for you and I just want to help you through it.”

They were silent for a long time and then Basil spoke again, “Even if he is found alive, that will not change how I feel about you, Emily.”

She said nothing, wishing he would just go home and let her walk to the hospital in peace.

“I don't think he is the right person for you, Emily.”

“You don't even know him, Basil.”

“I know that you're not like these people; you're better than they are.”

“I am one of them, Basil, and many of them are far better than I am. How can you talk like that about the people whom God has sent you to shepherd? Just listen to yourself!”

“I beg to differ, Emily.” he countered. “You may once have been one of them but you've left them far behind. By your command of English, alone, you demonstrate that you are better. How we express ourselves is an indication of who we are.”

“You don't say.”

“Simple people have simple speech, and more sophisticated people, like you…and me… we're able to converse at a higher level. In England the classes each have their ways of expressing themselves and it's important to speak so as to indicate where you belong. With their ancient West Country accents, some of the people around here sound positively Elizabethan. Nobody in England says ye or calls a road a drong anymore.”

“Well, Mr. Shakespeare, didn't I hear you say you sailed through a tempest on your way to Newfoundland? I have never in my life heard anybody say that.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. “This has nothing to do with how the English talk, does it, Basil? You just want to make me out to be something I'm not. I am not the least bit sophisticated, Basil; I'm a fisherman's daughter, for goodness sakes. I'm a teacher and I'm expected to use good grammar. My mother takes more pride in that than I do; she's the one who encouraged me to read and who ordered books through the mail and sacrificed so I could attend college. She loves to brag about her son, the doctor, and her daughter, the teacher.

“And I wouldn't be surprised to learn that she colluded with you to try to bring us together—a teacher
and
a pastor's wife. What a triumph! I don't blame her. She was just trying to be a good mother and look to my future. And I can't blame her for this mess, either. I should never have encouraged you while there was another man asking for my hand. I should have told you the truth straightaway.”

He gulped. “Asking for your hand?”

“I tried to tell you last night but you cut me off, so I want you to hear me out, now. The man I love is out there on the ice”—her hand jabbed the air as she pointed out to sea—“and if there is any way under heaven to get him in I intend to see it happens.”

They arrived at the hospital. “Good evening, Basil.”

“Emily, couldn't we—”

“Good evening, Basil. I would like to speak with my friend alone if you don't mind.” She marched up the stairs and went inside, leaving him standing in the snow, forlorn, looking up at the closed door.

“Hi there, Missie,” said Gennie. A big smile crossed her face, and faded as quickly as it appeared. “What's wrong?”

“Oh, Gennie, I just had the most dreadful conversation with Basil. I can't believe that I was ever attracted to him.”

“Well, he does have some attractive qualities.”

“He kept trying to convince me that there's no hope for Henry.

What an awful thing to do.”

“Sounds like you need a hug. Will you take one from somebody with TB?”

“Of course I will,” said Emily, leaning over the bed. Her normal reticence about Henry evaporated as she confided in Gennie. “He wrote me a letter about the appalling death of a young man and feels he should have saved him. I can't imagine the responsibility he must be feeling towards the young stowaway. Poor Henry. Oh, I'm so sorry I was so mean to him, Gennie,” she sobbed.