Chain Locker (7 page)

That got Henry's attention. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothin'… nothin' at all. Just flappin' me gums. She's quite the looker, that one. I 'magine you're not the only one interested in her.”

On they trod, heads down, one sealskin boot after another interrupting the view of the ice below. As he thought about Simeon's comment, Henry's mind wandered to the previous autumn, the dark blue sky, hot sun, the clear slate-grey water of Notre Dame Bay, a lazy yet passionate day that had stirred his soul and awakened a part of himself he had never known. He vividly remembered Shellbird Island, where they had walked, picnicked, talked, laughed, talked and laughed some more. In the cool grass, holding her warm body next to his, curbing his passion took all the restraint he could manage. She gently checked him, setting limits that only made him desire her more. She was not going to be rushed; that was clear.

He had reluctantly accepted her hesitation and desire for more than what most women her age wanted. The majority of the girls he had known didn't take long to get down to business on the marriage front, with much not-so-subtle hinting. But Emily was different. She was in a class by herself and he was painfully aware that with each step he was going farther away from her.

At that moment in Twillingate, Agnes Tizzard was walking through the door of her mother-in-law's house for her afternoon visit. “My dear, them grandchildren got me fagged right out,” Elfreda Tizzard complained, as she leaned on one elbow on the daybed and scratched her abdomen. “I needed a quick nap o' sleep before you showed up. I'm gettin' up, now.”

“Take your time,” said Agnes. “They were hard on you, were they?”

“I had young Robert all morning and then Lucy was here with her two, and you never heard such a charm. They left the door open and one of the hens—the big red one—got into the kitchen and there was ructions while we tried to huss her back outa doors. The youngsters chased her into the pantry and wouldn't let her out. Then she pecked Marjorie's leg and she started screechin' and bawlin'.”

“The broody one?” said Agnes. “She needs to set her mind on pushin' out a few eggs rather than comin' into the house and tormentin'.”

“The very words I said to her, the very words!” said Elfreda. “‘Because,' I said to her, ‘if I don't see an egg soon, you're gonna find yourself in the roaster with nothing but onions for company.'”

“Proper thing!” Agnes cackled. “Let me know when you do it and I'll be over to greet her when you take the cover off.”

“Them youngsters took the good right outa me, my dear. They're nothing but the torment, you know,” and then Elfreda added with a twinkle, “oh, but I loves to see them comin'. Sit down and have a spell, now; I'll get some tea hove up.”

Pouring two cupfuls, Elfreda sat down at the table across from her daughter-in-law. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at the feathers! The place is in slings,” she said. “We'll drink our tea now and then you can give me a hand to tidy up. Did Simeon and his boys get away for the ice yet?”

“They went yesterday,” Agnes replied. “They were going to spend last night at Eli Horwood's in Cottle's Island.”

“Horwood's? Wasn't it their boy was seeing that new teacher before she took up with the minister?”

Agnes's eyes widened. “She's after takin' up with the minister? I heard she was engaged to Henry.”

“She might be, maid, but I believe she's seein' the minister, all the same. He's always over to their house, sure. Ada haves him in every Sunday after church. It's not hard to tell what she's up to. She's tryin' to get them together.”

Gossip about Emily! Agnes weighed in. “That's the goin' on she haves, see. Not satisfied with one man, like the rest of us; no, she got to have two. I don't know what she sees in that minister. Sure, he talks right queer. Did you ever speak to him?”

“Now what would I be doin' talkin' to the minister from Saint Marks's church? And have you ever seen one of that crowd yet that wasn't a queer hand, anyway? I don't know why you'd expect their minister to be any different.”

“Well, I wonder what she's going to be up to now, with Henry gone for two months,” said Agnes. “I feel bad for him but what can you expect from the likes o' she?”

chapter nine

Jackie sat at the table as his mother and older sister served supper. He fiddled with the flat can of Holiday tobacco that always sat next to his father's pipe, and gazed at the ship on the front. Flipping open the lid he took a long sniff of the exotic mixture.

“Get your nose outa that; the next thing you'll want to be smoking it,” his mother ordered. “Alice, give your father more than that, now. He's been working all day and needs a good supper.”

“Thank you, dear,” a smiling Tom Gould said to his daughter.

“Well, I dare say the sealers will be on their way in the morning,” his wife ventured to nobody in particular.

“I suppose so.” Tom's mind was less on the seal hunt and more on the food his daughter had just put in front of him. He was a grocer, and a lot of potatoes and turnips had passed through his hands today. Now it was his turn to consume a few.

“Please God they'll have good weather and a safe trip.”

“Mmm,” he responded, while devouring a piece of salt beef. “I just hope they come home with a good haul of seals. Maybe then some of them will settle their accounts.”

“I know,” said Jackie's mother. “A lot of people are finding it hard. Jackie, put down that can and eat your supper!”

“This is the worst winter I've ever seen for people not paying their bills on time.”

“I suppose there will be more boys stow away again this year,” Jackie's mother pondered out loud.

Jackie gulped and looked down at his plate, trying to appear innocuous. What was this, now? Was she baiting him? Better say nothing.

She fixed her eyes on her son. “And leaving their poor mothers at home wondering where in the world they're got to, with no way of knowing if they're on a boat or fell off the wharf. My blessed, if they knew what they was putting their mothers through, they'd stay home where they're safe.”

Jackie decided that now was a good time to rely on a nugget of manly advice his father had given him: “When it comes to dealin' with your mother, there's a time to speak and a time to keep quiet. Just let her say what she got to say. She'll say it a few times in different ways, but the best thing for you to do is keep your mouth shut. You'll only make it worse for yourself if you argue with her.”

He knew his mother was only doing what mothers were supposed to do, but he was not interested in hearing it. After all, he had passed his thirteenth birthday, far too old to still be in school. A couple of his friends had already dropped out. He was ready to see the world, and his mother would just have to accept that. Tomorrow morning he was going to sea and to freedom and no amount of pressure was going to stop him.

As he sat staring at the tobacco can and the long trail of smoke drifting from the ship's stack back over the water, he noticed that the room had gone quiet. He looked up to discover that all eyes were on him.

“Well?” his mother asked.

“Well, what?”

“What have you got to say?”

“About what?”

“Mother of God, you're not even listening to me! I said Molly Kelloway told me that you and Hubert was planning to stow away on one of the sealing boats. Is that true?”

“Where did she get that idea from?”

“Hubert told Barb and she told her mother,” Alice interrupted. “Barb can't keep a secret for five minutes.”

Apparently it runs in the family, Jackie thought. I'll teach him to keep his trap shut and stop talking to Barb.

“Is it true?” his mother insisted.

“What if it is?”

“Well, you're quite the article now, aren't you? I got a mind to give you a good lickin' for talking to me like that.”

“Sorry.”

“Let me tell you something, mister. If you go running away on one of those boats I'll soon take you down a buttonhole or two.”

“Wha's wrong wit ya? I never said I was goin' on any sealing boat,” he replied, long-faced, eyes downcast, lips pouting, wishing the conversation would end.

“No, you didn't say you was, but you didn't say you wasn't, either.” A moment passed. “Well, are you going to answer my question?”

“No, I'm not goin' on no sealin' boat,” he replied slowly, looking defiantly into her face and deliberately enunciating every word.

“Well, just make sure you don't.”

She was not completely satisfied with the answer. As she lay in bed that evening she prepared herself for the worst. “It's just a matter of time, Tom; if not this spring then next year for sure.”

“He's just a young gaffer who wants to have some fun,” said Tom, as he lay with his back to her. “Big talk, that's all. I used to be the same way.”

“Well, there's more sensible ways for him to have fun than running off and drowning himself. I'm going to end up just like Mom, at home worried to death.”

“Did your father or your brothers drown?”

“Well, no, but—”

“There you go, then. She worried for nothing. Go to sleep.”

“Don't you talk to me like that! I'm not going to sleep. Why don't you take some interest in raising him? I've tried to convince him to stay in school but all he talks about is becoming a sailor. He's not old enough to make those kinds of decisions for himself. A good trimmin' is what he needs, to knock some sense into him. Did you hear the way he talked to me at the supper table this evening?”

“He's getting bigger now,” said Tom. “He just wants to speak his mind.”

“Well, he can speak his mind without being saucy. You're gonna have to deal with him; I can't handle him anymore.”

“Right. Good night.”

Across the hall, Jackie could make out snippets of the muffled conversation. By this time tomorrow, he would have listened to her nagging voice for the last time. He couldn't wait.

He sprang out of bed in the morning and glanced out the window to check the weather for his big day. It was dreary and gray—pretty normal—but nothing that would delay the departure of the fleet. Finding it hard to hide his excitement, he went through the Monday morning routine—breakfast, chores, preparing for school—in his normal, uncommunicative way, trying not to attract attention.

He packed on all the warm clothes he could find, most of it purchased from the War Surplus store: long underwear beneath his khaki woolen pants, with puttees around the legs. He pulled a sweater over two heavy shirts and reached for the long army coat that made him look like a slightly undersized soldier ready for the trenches. His two sisters were upstairs in the middle of a squabble that was consuming his mother's attention. He quietly dumped the books from his leather schoolbag behind the woodbin, filled the bag with bread from the pantry, and slipped out the door.

Wet snow had fallen overnight, and now there was a light rain sprinkling, making the roads and pathways greasy. As he half-walked and half-slid his way down the hill to the harbour, he could see the black smoke rising from the coal-burning ships working up steam in preparation for getting underway. Perfect, he thought. There would be a minimum of waiting time and less chance to get discovered.

Sealers from dozens of outport villages swarmed the city and the docks, some knowing and others hoping there would be a place for them on one of the nine steamships fitting out for this year's hunt, most of them vessels that were household names in Newfoundland. With so many sealers and so few ships, competition to get a spot was intense, often leading men as well as boys to stow away. Lookouts were everywhere.

As he stood on Harvey and Co.'s wharf, where he was supposed to meet Hubert Kelloway, Jackie caught a glimpse of Eddie Carnell and Michael Grandy weaving among the bystanders. Richard McCarthy had made it clear that he would not be going. The consequences of disobeying his father were too much for poor Dickie to abide, having suffered under his father's harsh discipline for all of his short life. Jackie could not remember ever being struck by his father, and he knew nothing of the fear that his friends had for theirs. Maybe he would finally get his first ass-kicking when he returned. He would worry about that when the day came round.

He spied the governor, surrounded by crowds of people waiting for his annual speech wishing the fleet safety and prosperity. Jackie looked around for the Archbishop, who usually showed up as well. Yes, there he was. Today was definitely the day; the Archbishop himself had given it divine sanction. He tried to keep his eyes on Eddie and Mike to see which ship they boarded. They had said they were going to try for one of the newer steel ships, which carried bigger sealing crews, among whom it would be easier to blend.

Jackie soon lost sight of the older lads. Time passed. No Hubert. Either he had lost his nerve or his father had caught him. Off to Jackie's left was a wooden, three-masted steamer, belching black smoke from her tall stack. He had seen her coming through the Narrows many times after a successful hunt, majestic with her sails set. He sauntered over.

“Get outa the way!” a rude voice barked from behind, and three men marched up the gangway.

“Is that the powder?” the gatekeeper asked. “Take it back aft. The bosun will tell you where it goes…hey, wait a minute.” The sentry ran to catch up with them. “You got a leak in one of them cans.”

Jackie glanced around. This was the appointed ship and now was the time. With the sentry occupied, he straightened himself up, took on the air of one accustomed to the sea, and marched nonchalantly up the narrow gangway and onto the
Viking
, trying his best not to look hasty. For the first time in his life, he found himself on the deck of a ship—and a sealing ship at that! There was a steady clamour around him as men loaded the last of the provisions and others shouted and waved to friends or relatives on shore. So far, nobody had noticed him, but where could he hide without detection for a day or two?