"Huh!" growled the captain. "'Tis wonderful long in passin'."
"The whole harbour must be down to see the start," Archie observed looking to the shore.
"More nor that, b'y," said the captain. "I've got a Green Bay crew. Most two hundred men o' them, an' every last one o' them a mighty man. They's folk here from all the harbours o' the bay t' see us off. Hark t' the guns they're firin'!"
All the folk left in Long Tom—the women and children and old men—were at the water-side; with additions from Morton's Harbour, Burnt Bay, Exploits and Fortune Harbour. Sailing day for the sealers! It was the great event of the year. Torches flared on the flakes and at the stages all around the harbour. The cottages were all illuminated with tallow candles. Guns were discharged in salute. "God speed!" was shouted from shore to ship; and you may be sure that the crew was not slow to return the good wishes. Archie marked one man in particular—a tall, lean fellow, who was clinging to the main shrouds, and shouting boisterously.
"Well, we can't lose Tuttle," said the mate, with a grin, indicating the man in the shrouds.
The captain frowned; and Archie wondered why. But he thought no more of the matter at the moment—nor, indeed, until he met Tuttle face to face—for the wind was now blowing high; and that was enough to think of.
"Let it blow," said bluff Captain Hand. "'Tis not the wind I cares about, b'y. 'Tis the ice. I reckon there's a field o' drift ice offshore. This nor'east gale will jam the harbour in an hour, an' I don't want t' be trapped here What's the time, now, Mr. Ackell?"
"Twenty-seven minutes yet, sir."
"Take her up off Skull Head. That's within the law."
The drift ice was coming in fast. There was a small field forming about the steamer, and growing continuously. Out to sea, the night-light now revealed a floe advancing with the wind, threatening to seal tight the narrow harbour entrance.