"The berg's to the lee'ard of she," declared Skipper Tom finally.
"Tis too close t' shore."
"'Tis to the lee'ard!"
"Is you sure, now, Pop?"
"The trap's safe and sound! The berg is t' the lee'ard!"
Tom was right. A shift of tide had come at the right moment to save the trap.
"The Lard is good to us," breathed Skipper Tom. "He've saved our trap! He always takes care of them that does what they feels is right. We'll thank the Lard, lads."
In the trap was a fine haul of cod, and when they had removed the fish the trap was transferred to a new position where it would be quite safe until the menacing iceberg had drifted away.
There were seventeen families living in Red Bay. As settlements go, down on The Labrador, seventeen cabins, each housing a family, is deemed a pretty good sized place.
At Red Bay, as elsewhere on the coast, bad seasons for fishing came now and again. These occur when the ice holds inshore so long that the best run of cod has passed before the men can get at them; or because for some unexplained reason the cod do not appear at all along certain sections of the coast. When two bad seasons come in succession, starvation looms on the horizon.