Dorymates: A Tale of the Fishing Banks

by Kirk Munroe

IN A MINUTE MORE THEY HAD SNATCHED THE BUOY FROM THE ICE-RAFT.

As quick as thought, Breeze tossed one of their trawl buoys, with its line still attached, to the cake of ice that had brought help to them from the schooner, and which was still within reach. It fell so close to the edge that he had to pay out the line most carefully to prevent its being dragged off. In a few minutes he had the satisfaction of seeing the dory pulled alongside of the floating cake, and one of her crew step carefully out upon it, and walk towards the buoy.

His weight bore the ice down so that water began to flow over its edge; and just as he stooped to pick up the buoy, it floated and eluded his grasp. He made a clutch and succeeded in seizing it; but at the same instant his feet slipped from under him, and he plunged headlong into the cold waters.

The cry with which the unfortunate man disappeared from view was echoed from the dory he had just left. In it Hank Hoffer was now as effectually cut off from the schooner as though he were already miles away, instead of almost within reach of her.

For the time being the crew of dory No. 6 paid but little attention to him. All their energies were directed towards saving the man in the water, who had now come to the surface, still grasping the buoy. A great cake bore down upon him, and threatened to crush him, or at least to force him under. Fortunately the line by which he was held passed over it, and he was able to draw himself on to its slippery surface. From it he again went into the water, and thus, slipping, scrambling, jumping, and swimming, but always clinging to the line, he finally reached the dory, cut, bruised, and nearly exhausted.

Then the dorymates began to look after their own safety, for they were still in great danger of going adrift. A portion of the line that connected them with the schooner was under the ice, and might at any moment be cut or parted. There was also the danger that the sides of the dory might be crushed in or cut through by the heavy jagged cakes, some of which were fifty feet wide, and from five to ten feet thick. By jumping out on the larger cakes, and pulling the boat over them, pushing aside the smaller ones, tugging, straining, and working with all their might for half an hour, they finally got the line clear and above the ice. All this time those on the schooner had held it taut. Now it was a comparatively easy matter to pull the boat, with its brave crew and the man whom they had rescued, close under the stern of the vessel, and to hoist her clear of the water by the davits.

Thankful enough were the dorymates to tread once more the firm deck of the old Vixen, and hearty was the welcome given them by her crew. All the other dories, except that which held Hank Hoffer, had been got safely on board, some with all their trawls, and others with only portions of them. The lost dory, with its solitary occupant, had become but a dim speck against the white background of ice that now covered the sea as far as their sight could reach. The boys barely caught a glimpse of it as it was pointed out to them from the deck of the schooner before it vanished entirely. They both sprang into the main rigging to get another sight of it; but, though they climbed to the mast-head, they could not again discover it. They did, however, see several icebergs drifting in that direction, and it was with heavy hearts and very sober faces that they descended to the deck and reported the probable fate that had overtaken their shipmate. He had proved himself their enemy, and even among the rougher members of the crew he had made no friends. Still he was a human being, who for more than a week had formed one of their little community, and been thrown into close companionship with them. Now he was called upon to suffer terribly, and alone, a fate that might have overtaken any one of them, and they pitied him from the bottom of their hearts.

With the exception of a few puffy squalls, the morning had been without moving air enough to lift the ensign that still drooped listlessly from the main rigging, but about noon a breeze sprang up from the southward. With the first sign of wind the Vixen’s anchor was hove up, sail was made, and she began to beat slowly in the direction taken by the missing dory, through a lead of clear water that had opened through the floe. There was not much chance that anything would ever again be seen of it or its unfortunate occupant; but they could not give him up without making an effort to save him, and so, for several hours, the almost hopeless search was continued.

Navigation was extremely difficult, for the spaces of open water were few and often very narrow. Sometimes they led abruptly into ice so closely packed that no headway could be made against it, and the schooner barely held her own, as it ground and scraped along her sides with a force that threatened to cut through even her stout planking.

At length Breeze, who had climbed to the mast-head to take a look through the skipper’s glass, reported that he could see something black that looked like a man on one of the icebergs they had noticed earlier in the day, and which they were now approaching.