Blocks rattled, men panted, the end of the mast hung lower over them, there was a great clatter and a thud, and Appleby stood up gasping and drenched with perspiration. The mast was down on the deck, the men apparently blinking at it, and there was a horrible tingling in one of his hands. Still, it was a little while before he glanced at it and saw that the rope had chafed the skin away and left his fingers raw and bleeding. That, however, scarcely troubled him just then, for he felt the keen and wholesome joy which comes to those who by the strenuous toil of their bodies have done an arduous and perilous thing.
Rude as it might have seemed to those who knew no better it was a man's work he had done, and the pride of accomplishment stirred him. It was a significant victory they had won, not by brute strength alone, for that would have been useless unless guided by the nerve and intelligence which gives man dominion over all the beasts as well as inanimate matter. The sealers also seemed to feel it, for there was something in their eyes which had not been there a few minutes earlier, and Jordan laughed softly as he turned to them.
"You fixed it quite handy, boys, though she was very near getting away from you," he said.
They laid the mast where Montreal wanted it, and that finished their task, but in the afternoon two boats went out to look for a sea otter. It was, however, blowing fresh, and when they met the long seas outside the reefs they were driven back again, and the water was ankle-deep in them when they returned to the Champlain. Jordan laughed when he looked down at the dripping men from the rail of the rolling schooner.
"I figured you'd find it too much for you," he said. "We'll try again to-morrow, and you can lazy round any way that pleases you till then."
Nobody seemed to want to go ashore, and even the lads did not find the appearance of the foam-fringed beaches and desolate grey rocks that showed through the haze and rain inviting. So while the chunk, chunk of Montreal's axe rose muffled through the doleful wail of wind they sat snug about the stove listening to stories of the sea and bush. Some of them were astonishing, for the sealer sees more than the merchant seaman does, and at one time or other most of the crew of the Champlain had marched with survey expeditions through, or wandered alone prospecting far up in, the great shadowy forests of British Columbia. Now and then the lads' eyes grew wide with wonder, but the faces of the men showed gravely intent through the drifting tobacco smoke, and it was evident they believed the tales they listened to. They were simple men, but they had seen many things beyond the knowledge of those who dwell in the cities, and even Niven sat silent, lost in the glamour of the real romance as he wandered with them in fancy over misty seas and amidst the awful desolation of ice-ribbed ranges.
At last when one of them lighted the lamp Montreal came down, and flinging off his dripping jacket stretched himself wearily.
"Can't see any more, but I'll have the contract through before I let up next time," he said. "If you want that sea otter, boys, you've got to get him to-morrow."
It may have been because of what he had helped to do that morning, but Appleby, glancing at the wet face of the tired man, realized there was a greatness in all craftsmanship which had never occurred to him before. There was, of course, very much that Montreal did not know, but if one gave him the top of a redwood tree it would under his sinewy hands become a spar that would transmit the stress and strain of the Champlain's canvas into useful effort that would drive her safely through screaming gale and over icy seas. He could also build a boat or bridge, and Appleby had realized already that among all the things man has ever made nothing more nearly approaches the simplicity of perfection than the former, a frail shell evolved very slowly before the knowledge of them came in wonderful compliance with the great laws that uphold the universe. It was, of course, but dimly the lad grasped this, but he understood in part that now, as it was when the world was young, it was after all the toil of the craftsmen that human progress was built upon. The world, it seemed, could dispense with the artist and orator and a good many more, but it could not well get on without the smith and carpenter.
Still, reflections of this kind did not usually occupy Appleby very long, and he might have brushed them aside but that he presently heard something which gave him an insight into the responsibility that is attached to all skilled labour.