II.
Long before the Hasselrud men had their lines set the whole fleet had rowed back toward land. But Grim’s boat-guild, which had just arrived, and had as yet no nets to draw, lingered for a while eating their dinner, which they had brought with them in the boats. They chatted and told stories about Draugen, the sea-bogey, who rows in a half boat, and whose scream sounds terribly through the tempest. Any man who sees him knows that he will never see land again. Draugen is only out in the worst weather; he has a sou’wester on his head, his face is white and ghastly as death itself, and his empty eye-sockets have no eyes in them. The boys shuddered at the horrible picture which was conjured up before them, and it was a relief to them when the time came for pulling up the lines, and the great codfishes were hauled sprawling into the boat; each one had plenty to do now in cutting out the hooks and in winding the lines upon their frames. A smart gale had sprung up while they were thus engaged, and Grim began to look wistfully at the lurid sunset.
“The sun draws water,” he said; “that means lively weather. Hoist the sails, lads, and let us turn our noses shoreward.”
He had hardly uttered his command when a thick curtain seemed to be drawn across the face of the sun, and the sea became black as ink.
“Clew up the sail!” he shouted, in a voice of thunder; “we are in for it.”
With a roar as of a chorus of cataracts the storm advanced, lashing the water into smoke which whirled heavenward, making the sky dense as night. The masts creaked, the boats tore away with a frantic speed, and the waves rose mountain-high, with steep, black gulfs between them.
“Cap’n,” one of the men ventured to remonstrate, “are we not carryin’ too much sail?”
Grim deigned him no reply, but, with a sharp turn of the tiller, ran The Cormorant closer to the wind. Forward bounded the boat, cleaving the coming wave with a blow of her bows which made her timbers groan. The spray was dashed fathoms high, and would have drenched every man on board if his oil-skins had not been water-tight. Of the other boats only two were visible, and it was splendid to see how they rose out of one sea, until half the length of their keels were visible, then buried their noses in the next, while great sheets of foam splashed on either side, and were torn into shreds by the gale.
“This is rather lively work, I should say,” remarked the midshipman. “I think I should prefer a man-of-war to The Cormorant in this sort of weather.”
“I confess to a weakness for Cunarders,” said Harry; “yet I dare say I shall enjoy this affair well enough when we get safely ashore.”
“You mean if we get safely ashore,” said Magnus, quietly. “This has rather an ugly look to me. Though I dare say Grim knows what he is about.”
He had scarcely spoken when a harsh voice bellowed, “Lay hold of the mast, lads!” and in the same moment they seemed to be flung to a dizzying height; a huge wave towered in front, showing a white whirling top which seemed on the point of breaking right over them. They had just time to clasp the mast when the boat, lying flat on her side, pressed down by her weight of canvas, plunged her nose into this mountain of water, but by some astonishing manœuvre righted herself, slid down within another black hollow, and again rose high on the crest of another wave.
“All hands bail!” roared the captain.
The command came not a moment too soon; the water was rushing in from the leeward, and the flying wreaths of foam struck the boy’s faces with a terrible force and made them smart furiously.
“Grim! Grim!” shouted Olaf, making himself heard with a difficulty above the storm, “you are carrying too much sail.”
“Hold your tongue, gosling,” Grim thundered back; “we have got nothin’ but the sail fer to save us.”
“What point are you making for?”
“The Bird Islands.”
“I thought there was no harbor there.”
“Reckon ye be right.”
“Gracious heavens!” cried Olaf, turning a terrified countenance toward his comrades; “he means to wreck the boat; but he knows what he is about. There is no other chance.”
He sat for a moment silent, gazing up into the cloud rack which scudded along at a furious rate before the wind. Strips of storm-riven sky, with momentary vistas of blue, were now and then visible, but vanished again, making the dusk more dismal by their memory.
“Breakers ahead!” shouted Olaf, “look out!”
“I see a black ridge against the sky,” cried Harry; “now it is gone again!”
He was going to say more, but the wind came with a howling screech and forced his breath down his throat. He gasped, and as the boat gave a tremendous lurch, diving down into a black hollow, he could only cling to the base of the mast, lest the next tumble might toss him overboard. The sound of a steady rhythmic roar rose and fell upon the air, and made them strain their eyes in the direction from which it was coming.
“Why, Grim, you are steering away from the island,” Magnus screamed, pointing to the black ridge which was, once more, for a moment revealed.
“He means to land us on the leeward side,” Olaf bawled in his brother’s ear; “the chances are that the water is there a bit smoother.”
To reach the leeward side was, however, a task which required no mean order of seamanship. The distance was too short for tacking, and moreover the water was filled with blind rocks and skerries which made the approach tenfold dangerous. It seemed to the unskilled eyes of the boys that for nearly half an hour The Cormorant was tumbling aimlessly upon the waves, shipping seas which it was a wonder did not swamp her, and righting herself, as by a miracle, when again and again she seemed on the point of capsizing. And yet all these wonderful feats were only the result of the coolest calculation and the most consummate skill.
Just as they were clearing the hidden skerries at the western point of the island the wind veered a point to the north, but did not fall off perceptibly. The spray rose from the shore like a dense and blinding smoke, and in the depths of every black abyss which opened before them death’s jaws seemed to be yawning. Harry closed his eyes; and though he was no coward, his heart failed him.
“What is the use of fighting any longer?” he said to Magnus, who was lying at his side, clinging like him to the mast; “we are going to the bottom, any way. The archangel Gabriel himself couldn’t land us on this shore, with all the heavenly hosts to assist him.”
“But Grim is a better sailor than Gabriel,” Magnus replied, quite unconscious of his joke. “He knows every inch of the bottom here from the time he was a boy and used to row out here and gather eider-down. He has told me about it often. If I were you I wouldn’t give up yet.”
“All right, old fellow,” Harry answered, taking heart once more. “I am ready for anything. But I am an unlucky chap—a sort of a Jonah, who has a talent for getting into scrapes. I shouldn’t wonder if, in case you threw me overboard, the storm would fall off and you might sail home in comfortable fashion.”
“We mean to go overboard, all of us, in a few minutes,” Magnus retorted, hugging Harry tightly with his left arm, which he had freed for that purpose. “Now I am going to propose something to you. Let us tie ourselves together with a rope so that each may help the other; and we may either live or perish together.”
“I am afraid you would be the loser by that arrangement,” his friend exclaimed. “You are a good deal stronger than I am, and you will need every bit of your strength if you are to plow your way through those awful breakers.”
Magnus, instead of answering, slipped the end of a rope about Harry’s waist and secured it tightly; the other end he tied about his own waist, although he came near losing his balance, and going headlong over the gunwale. The Cormorant had now slipped around to the leeward side of the island, where, under the shelter of the steep rock, the water was a trifle less tumultuous. And yet a gigantic surf was running and the undertow on the steeply sloping bottom seemed strong enough to take an elephant off his feet. The wind yelled and screeched from the top of the towering rock, and rushed down in thundering eddies on the leeward side. If it had not been for a momentary clearing of the sky, which showed the position of the breakers and the outline of the shore, it would have been madness to risk landing; and even as it was, the chance of being dashed to pieces against the rocks seemed altogether to preponderate. But Grim apparently took a different view of the situation; as long as the sail was whole and the boat true to her rudder he saw no cause for despair.
“Now, lads,” he roared, hoarsely, “steady on yer shanks. No chicken-hearted chap among ye! Uncoil the rope! Thar’s a bit of sandy beach thar—sixty or a hundred feet wide. If we be in luck we’ll be thar in a minute.”
The ridge of the island was now half visible against the dark horizon, but the beach below was wrapped in a dense smoke, through which came glimpses of the black jagged rock.
“Almighty Lord! thar’s a skerry ahead,” screamed one of the boatmen, as the retreating surf broke with a wild uproar over the hidden rock and rose like a mighty water-spout against the sky. There was a moment of breathless suspense. Each man seemed to hear the beating of the other’s heart. As the boat was flung upward again on the next wave, the wind gave a frantic shriek; the mast bent forward under the terrible strain. The incoming surf buried the skerry under a mountain of towering water, and high upon its crest The Cormorant rode triumphant, only to be hurled from its crest, fairly shooting through the air, upon the beach.
“Jump overboard!” bellowed Grim, and seizing Magnus in his arms he leaped from the stern just as the boat struck the sand and broke into fragments. Every man followed his example; but the undertow swept them off their feet. Still Grim stood like a rock, holding with his gigantic strength the rope to the other end of which Harry was attached. Once he tottered, and if he had had sand under his feet he would have been dragged down by his double burden. But by a lucky chance he had planted his heels upon a bowlder which rose slightly out of the surf. When the wildest force of the wave had been exhausted he sprang up on the beach, depositing Magnus and the half-unconscious Harry beyond the reach of the waves. Back he rushed again to his former station, just as one of the boatmen, who had momentarily regained his footing, was scrambling up toward him.
“I am tied to the rope,” shouted the man; “someone is tugging at it.”
“Hand it to me,” commanded Grim.
The man struggled to his feet and planted himself resolutely at his captain’s side. All this was the work of a moment. With the next incoming wave, which was happily much smaller than the preceding one, four men were flung up on the sand; but they seemed half dead, and made no effort to save themselves. Grim, who thought he saw a glimmer of brass buttons in the water, dashed forward and seized Olaf by the collar, just as he would have been sucked back by the undertow. He bore him up on the shore, while the boatman came dragging two of his unconscious comrades out of the roaring surf. One was still missing; but as the next wave that broke in tumult at their feet showed no trace of him, they knew that he was beyond the reach of human help.
The work of resuscitating the men was a long and tedious one; but Grim and Magnus both worked with their hearts in their throats, yet with a resolution which scorned fatigue. Harry revived the moment they had poured a glass of brandy down his throat, and he soon recovered his spirits and volunteered his help. But the midshipman was both badly battered and had swallowed a quantity of water; and it was only after long and persistent efforts on Grim’s part that his breath came back to him. Their next thought was of fire; for the wind was raw and chill, and the last glimmer of daylight was vanishing. The problem, however, was a serious one, for there was not a tree growing on the island, except perhaps a few stunted juniper shrubs up in the crevices of the rocks. And to get at these in the dark was no easy undertaking. Nor was their situation in other respects an enviable one. Above them loomed the black cliff, and the surf was thundering at their feet. And there they were sitting, huddled together in a heap to keep each other warm, and yet shivering in their wet clothes, and thinking with horror of the long hours of the night which must pass before they could be rescued.
“Lads,” cried Magnus, suddenly extricating himself from Harry and Olaf’s embrace, “I am the only one of you who is not wet to the skin, and I am going to explore this island and see if we can’t scare up some fuel. To sit here hugging each other in the dark is a dismal sort of business, and I am not so affectionately disposed as the rest of you.”
“A mighty peart chap ye be, lad,” Grim said, raising his tall figure out of the group; “but ye had better let me crawl ahead, and ye keep astern o’ me. I know summat o’ the island and ye don’t know nothin’.”
“I’ll keep abreast of you, Grim,” Magnus replied, “but your stern would obscure my view; so take your bearings and let’s be off.”
“Ye be a mighty lively customer,” Grim grumbled, admiringly, giving the boy a caressing pat in the dark.
They had scarcely crawled fifty yards up the beach when their fumbling hands touched something cold and clammy, which felt like the nose of some aquatic animal. There came immediately a little chorus of whining barks, which was followed by a great flapping, as if something broad and wet struck against the stones.
“Thunder and lightning, Grim,” cried Magnus, “what sort of beasts are these?”
“A herd of seals,” answered Grim, quietly; “it was funny I didn’t think o’ them. Here we have got our fuel.”
In the same moment a cold nose was stuck right into Magnus’ face and he tumbled backward, scarcely knowing how to return the unexpected caress.
“Draw yer knives, lads,” shouted Grim to the men, “a herd of seals is a comin’ right upon ye.”
The seals were now in full flight, rolling, tumbling, and pushing themselves on over the smooth sand. They instinctively knew, even in the dark, the way to the water, and they thus came plump down upon the shipwrecked men, who had arisen in response to Grim’s call and were ready to give them a warm reception. In the storm and the fright of the sudden attack the keen scent of the animals scarcely served them at all. They rushed right down upon their enemies, and within a few minutes fully a dozen of them lay gasping and bleeding upon the beach. The rest plunged into the surf, where their plaintive bark was heard as they battled with the raging sea.
Grim and Magnus in the meanwhile pushed on, groping their way over the slippery bowlders, and keeping close together so as to help each other in case of accident. But the farther they climbed the steeper grew the rock, and as far as they could ascertain by their sense of touch there was no sign of vegetation.
“Now look sharp, lad,” cried Grim, warningly.
“Look sharp!” repeated Magnus, “how am I to look sharp when it is as dark as pitch about me?”
“Right ye be, lad, right ye be,” the other retorted; “ye be a smart chap and a peart one. But don’t ye lay hold o’ nothin’ here before ye know it is rock. Thar be thousands o’ birds here on the lee’ard side when thar be a storm from the north; and ef ye mistook a gull or a cormorant fer somethin’ solid ye might tumble down and break yer precious neck. Mark ye my word, chap, thar will be a mighty lively hubbub here in a couple o’ minutes.”
Grim had hardly uttered this prophecy when Magnus felt something feathery under his touch, and in the same instant there came a piercing scream and a powerful wing dealt him a blow across the bridge of his nose. Immediately there commenced a wild chorus of screams and chattering protest, as if the more sober-minded birds were deprecating this senseless uproar. Magnus thought, too, that he heard his name called from below, but the deafening thunder of the surf and the noise of the birds drowned all other sounds, and he concluded that he had been deceived. It was a terrible sensation, all these invisible wings flapping about him in the dark; unseen bodies precipitated against him and tumbling blindly about him with a murderous tumult from a thousand discordant voices. He raised his elbows above his head to protect himself from the blind assaults and the perpetual beating of wings. It hardly occurred to him to assume the offensive until he heard Grim’s voice shouting to him:
“Draw yer knife, lad, and make it lively fer them screamin’ rascals. Their down is worth money and they’ve got blubber as thick as a seal’s. Give ’em no odds, I tell ye, my laddie.”
Magnus followed this advice promptly. He drew his knife, and fought with a will, thrusting and striking right and left, and hearing the great birds tumbling about him down the steep sides of the rock. He had been thus occupied for a few minutes when suddenly, to his unutterable amazement, a great blaze rose from the strand below, lighting up the barren wall of the cliff, and showing him how narrow the ledge was upon which he was sitting. It was a superb spectacle, too, to see the whirling host of gulls, auks, and cormorants eddying wildly about his head, the great black cliff looming up above him, and the spray of the surf spouting, with angry brawl, high up into the nocturnal air.
“Hurrah! lad,” yelled Grim, through the ear-splitting noise and confusion, “I war a blasted fool not to think on it. They be a-burnin’ the wreck.”
The descent was a much easier affair than the ascent; for the light of the fire below blazed up every now and then and enabled them to see where they were treading. They picked up between them several dozen birds, of nearly half as many varieties, and flung them down before the fire, where the company were now seated in comparative comfort, warming their stiffened limbs. Two of the boatmen were engaged in skinning the seals and cutting off the blubber, which, after squeezing out the blood, they flung into the fire. Soon the oil began to ooze out, and, flowing over the wood, burned with a clear and strong flame.
“I am going to make myself comfortable, fellows,” said Harry, who was looking very pale and chilly after his involuntary bath; “and if you don’t mind it, I’ll make a scarf of this big duck. She fits very nicely about my throat, though she won’t accommodate herself to the bow-knot. This little one I am going to stuff down my bosom. She feels so deliciously warm and downy! I tell you,” he went on, with emphasis, suiting his actions to his words, “I mean to patent this invention, when I get back home, as an infallible cure for rheumatism, toothache, consumption, chillblains, corns, and kidney disease. I am going to call it Winchester’s In-wincible Wivifier. That will sound well and catch the public eye. I was about ready to give up the ghost awhile ago, and now I feel quite jolly.”
He stretched himself luxuriously on the windward side of the fire, arranged half a dozen ducks and auks under his head as a pillow, and closed his eyes. Magnus and Olaf soon followed his example, each tying a big gull about his throat, and feeling a grateful warmth creeping through their half-frozen bodies. The men had the good luck to find a bunch of drift-wood large enough to keep the fire going until morning, and to satisfy their hunger they roasted a piece of seal-flesh, which, in spite of its oily flavor, tasted better than they had expected. When Grim saw that the boys were asleep he covered them carefully with his own oil-skin clothes, while he himself kept marching up and down on the beach to keep his blood in motion. After midnight the wind shifted suddenly to the west and fell off gradually, the clouds were scattered, and the moon sailed calmly through the dark-blue sky.
The three boys slept soundly after their terrible hardships, and the eastern sky was already bright with the dawn when they opened their eyes. The whole screaming colony of birds were again on the wing, and whirled about the projecting crags of the cliff with wild clamor. Several sails were already visible on the horizon and, as soon as signals of distress were hoisted, steered toward the island. Harry, who was ravenously hungry, made a courageous assault upon the roasted seal-flesh, but after two futile attempts declared that he was not sufficiently acclimated to relish such diet. If necessity compelled him, he preferred to roast his boots, and to use the seal-oil as gravy.
“What do you say you call this island?” he asked Grim, who was trotting at his side up and down on the sand.
“The Bird Island,” answered Grim.
“I should rather call it the ‘Skerry of Shrieks,’” said Harry; “for in all my living days I have never heard a finer assortment of varied yells than I heard here last night. It must be a jolly place in summer, when the nights are light and the weather comfortable.”
“It ain’t bad fer such as like it,” was Grim’s non-committal reply.
“And do you know,” Magnus put in eagerly, “during the early fall the island is quite covered with eider-ducks’ nests, so that you can hardly move your feet without stepping into them. All those little round depressions up on the slope there are such nests; and thousands of dollars have been made here in times past by gathering the down with which the eider-duck lines her nest; and it is even possible during the brooding season to catch the bird alive and pull the down from her breast; though I think that would be cruel, as she probably needs all she has left after having picked herself for the benefit of her young.”
“The eider-duck must be very tame,” Harry observed.
“Yes, it is very tame, indeed, because people rarely molest it,” said Magnus; “the peasants have a kind of superstitious respect for it, and they won’t allow anyone to kill it. It is very much the same kind of feeling as they have for the swallow. They think a misfortune will befall him who robs or pulls down a swallow’s nest.”
Several boats were by this time within hailing distance, and they were easily persuaded to run up and take the shipwrecked company on board. They insisted, however, upon drawing their nets before returning, and thus it happened that it was nearly noon before the party set foot on shore. They now learned that a great many boats besides their own had been wrecked during yesterday’s storm, and that some fifty or sixty men had been drowned. Many dead bodies were washed ashore during the day, and some were even drawn up in the nets and sent home to their sorrowing widows. Sad, indeed, was the sight of the little fleet of boats which sailed southward that afternoon, each with a tarred pine box showing above its gunwales. The three boys, although they would scarcely have admitted that the disaster had discouraged them, concluded, after a short consultation, that the experience they had already had of the fisheries was an instructive one and would probably last them for the remainder of their lives. They therefore, without much regret, induced Grim to hoist the sails and pilot them safely home.