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.
"Alike to him was tide or time, Moonless midnight or matin's prime."
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 unwonted 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
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