Left on the Labrador | Page 2

from the coast, and navigation would open for another short summer. The last fishing schooner had already hurried southward to escape the autumn gales and the blockade of ice, and the sea was deserted save by the lonely mail boat, which was picking up the last of the Newfoundlanders' cod fishing gear at the little harbours of the coast.
"A swell time I'm having!" Charley muttered. "Not even a decent place on the old ship where I can sit and read!"
"Not having a good time, eh?"
Charley looked up into the smiling face of Barney MacFarland, the second engineer.
"Hello!" he exclaimed. "I didn't know anybody was around. I didn't hear you."
"Having a rotten time?" Barney grinned good-naturedly.
"The worst I've ever had!" said Charley. "It's too cold to stay on deck and too close and smelly inside, and there's no one to talk with. Mr. Wise sprawls in his bunk reading silly novels he brought with him, when he isn't playing checkers with the Doctor."
"'Tis a bad season to be coming down to The Labrador," suggested Barney. "Though there's fog enough in July and August, we're having fine weather too, with plenty of sunshine. 'Tis then the passengers are with us, with now and again sightseers from the States. And the fishing places are busy, with enough to see. Then's the time to come."
"I didn't pick the time," explained Charley, glad to have an opportunity to talk into sympathetic ears. "Dad was going hunting in Newfoundland, and he took me to St. John's with him. I thought I was going along, but after we got to St. John's he said I was too young to hike through the country, and that this trip on the mail boat would be more interesting for me while he hunted. He sent Mr. Wise along to keep me company. He's Dad's secretary. He's left me alone most of the time. Dad said I would see Indians and Eskimos and loads of interesting things, but I've been on the ship ever since we left, except at Hopedale when the Captain took me ashore for an hour while we were lying there before we turned back. That was dandy! I saw Eskimos, and Eskimo dogs, and I bought some souvenirs at the Moravian Mission for Mother and some of the boys. But I wasn't there half long enough to see everything. They never let me go ashore in the boat at the harbours where we stop."
"Well, well, now! That is hard on you, b'y," agreed Barney sympathetically. "Where is your home?"
"In New York. But Dad is so busy at his office that I don't see him often. I thought I was going to have a dandy time with him!"
Charley choked back tears, which he felt it would be unmanly to shed, and gazed out over the sea.
"Lad, when you gets lonesome to talk come down to the engine room when it's my watch on," Barney invited heartily. "I'll show you the big engines, and we'll chum up a bit. I'm off watch now, but I'll be on at eight bells. That's four o'clock, land reckoning. I'll come and get you, b'y, and show you the way."
"Thank you! Thank you ever so much!" Charley acknowledged gratefully, as Barney left him.
The ship which had been standing off from the shore was now edging in toward the land. Suddenly there came a long blast of the whistle. There was activity upon the deck at once. Sailors were swinging a boat out upon the davits. Charley hastened to join the sailors, and asked:
"Are we going to make a port?"
"Aye, lad," answered one of them good-naturedly.
"What place is it?" asked Charley.
"Pinch-In Tickle."
"Will it be a long stop?"
"Now I'm not knowin' how long or how short. We stop inside the Tickle to take on fish and gear. I'm thinkin' 'twill be a half hour's stop, or thereabouts."
"May I go ashore in the boat?"
"Ask the mate. I'm doubtin' there'll be room. The boat comes back with full cargo at this harbour."
Charley turned his inquiry to the mate, who was directing the men.
"No, lad. I'm sorry," he answered, "but there'll be no room for passengers."
It was always that way! Charley left them to return to his old place at the rail. The ship had slowed to half speed, and was already picking her way cautiously into the tickle, where the cliffs, nearly as high as the masthead, were so close on either side that Charley believed he might have touched them with a ten-foot pole.
At the end of two hundred yards the narrow tickle opened up into a beautiful, sheltered harbour. Perched upon the rocks at the north side of the harbour were some rude cabins. Opposite these the ship swung about, the boat was lowered, and manned by four sailors, pulled to the rocks that formed