Billy Topsail & Company: A Story for Boys

“‘Ho!’ said John.

“He was staring round the point of rock; and there he stood, unable to get nearer.

“‘Ice under,’ said he, indicating a point below me. ‘More ice. Let down.’

“‘What?’ I cried. ‘Where?’

“‘More ice. Down there,’ said he. ‘Like this. Let down.’

“Then I understood him. Another ledge, such as that upon which I hung, had been formed in the same way, and was adhering to the rock beneath. No doubt there was a pool on the lower side of the point, and just below me, and the current would be no obstacle to the formation of ice. I had looked down from above, and the upper ledge had hidden the lower from me; but John, standing by the gap in the upper, could see it plainly.

“So I had but to let myself down until my feet rested on the new ledge, and this I did, with extreme caution and the expenditure of the last ounce of strength in my arms. Then a glance assured me that the way was clear to the shelving cliff beyond.

“‘You go,’ said John. ‘I go round.’

“‘All right,’ said I. ‘And, say! I wish I’d called you before.’

“‘Ho!’ said he, as he vanished.

“When John reached the Little Lake post late that night, the tidings of the safe return of the Hudson Bay Geological Expedition were on the way south by another messenger, and the company’s physician was moving over the trail towards Fort Red Wing, making haste to the aid of the young professor, whom, indeed, he soon brought back to health. The passage by the ledge of ice had resulted in a gain of three hours, but whether or not it saved the professor’s life I do not know. I do not think it did. It nearly cost me mine, but I had no thought of that when I essayed it, so my experience reflects no credit upon me whatever. I take fewer rash and reckless chances now on land and water, and I am not so overreliant upon my own resources.

“I have learned that a friend’s help is of value.”

At that moment the Ruddy Cove mail-boat entered the Tickle.

CHAPTER XXII

In Which Billy Topsail Gets an Idea and, to the Amazement of Jimmie Grimm, Archie Armstrong Promptly Goes Him One Better

While Archie Armstrong was pursuing his piratical adventure in the French harbour of St. Pierre, Billy Topsail had gone fishing with Jimmie Grimm and Donald North. This was in the trim little sloop that Sir Archibald had sent north to Billy Topsail in recognition of his service to Archie during a great blizzard from which Bill o’ Burnt Bay had rescued them both.[5 - As related in “The Adventures of Billy Topsail.”] There were now no fish in the summer waters of Ruddy Cove; but word had come down the coast that fish were running in the north. So up went the sails of the little Rescue; and with Billy Topsail, Jimmie Grimm and Bobby North aboard she swept daintily between the tickle rocks and turned her shapely prow towards White Bay.

There was good fishing with hook and line; and as the hold of the little sloop was small she was soon loaded with green cod.

“I ’low I got an idea,” said Billy Topsail.

Jimmie Grimm looked up.

“We’ll sail for Ruddy Cove the morrow,” Billy went on; “an’ when we lands our fish we’ll go tradin’. There’s a deal o’ money in that, I’m told; an’ with what we gets for our fish we’ll stock the cabin o’ the Rescue and come north again t’ trade in White Bay.”

Donald and Jimmie were silent; the undertaking was too vast to be comprehended in a moment.

“Let’s have Archie,” said Jimmie, at last.

“An’ poor ol’ Bagg,” said Donald.

“We’ll have Archie if he’ll come,” Billy agreed, “an’ Bagg if we can stow un away.”

There was a long, long silence, during which the three boys began to dream in an amazing way.

“Billy,” Donald North asked, at last, “what you goin’ t’ do with your part o’ the money we’ll make at tradin’?”

It was a quiet evening on the coast; and from the deck of the sloop, where she lay in harbour, the boys looked away to a glowing sunset, above the inland hills and wilderness.

“I don’t know,” Billy replied. “What you goin’ t’ do with your share, Jimmie?”

“Don’t know,” said Jimmie, seriously. “What you goin’ t’ do with yours, Donald?”

“I isn’t quite made up my mind,” said Donald, with an anxious frown. “I ’low I’ll wait an’ see what Archie does with his.”

The three boys stowed away in the little cabin of the Rescue very early that night. They were to set sail for Ruddy Cove at dawn of the next morning.

Archie Armstrong, now returned from the Miquelon Islands and relieved of his anxiety concerning that adventure by his father’s letter, was heart and soul for trading. But he scorned the little Rescue. It was merely that she was too small, he was quick to add; she was trim and fast and stout, she possessed every virtue a little craft could have, but as for trading, on any scale that half-grown boys could tolerate, she was far too small. If a small venture could succeed, why shouldn’t a larger one? What Archie wanted–what he determined they should have–was a thirty-ton schooner. Nothing less would do. They must have a thirty-ton fore-an’-after with Bill o’ Burnt Bay to skipper her. The Heavenly Home? Not at all! At any rate, Josiah Cove was to take that old basket to the Labrador for the last cruise of the season.

Jimmie Grimm laughed at Archie.

“What you laughing at?” Archie demanded, with a grin.

Jimmie couldn’t quite tell; but the truth was that the fisherman’s lad could never get used to the airy, confident, masterful way of a rich man’s son and a city-bred boy.

“Look you, Archie!” said Billy Topsail, “where in time is you goin’ t’ get that schooner?”

“The On Time,” was the prompt reply. “We’ll call her the Spot Cash.”

Billy realized that the On Time might be had. Also that she might be called the Spot Cash. She had lain idle in the harbour since her skipper had gone off to the mines at Sidney to make more money in wages than he could take from the sea. But how charter her?

“Where you goin’ t’ get the stock?” Jimmie Grimm inquired.

“Don’t know whether I can or not,” said Archie; “but I’m going to try my level best.”

Archie Armstrong left for St. John’s by the next mail-boat. He was not the lad to hesitate. What his errand was the Ruddy Cove boys knew well enough; but concerning the prospect of success, they could only surmise. However, Archie wouldn’t be long. Archie wasn’t the lad to be long about anything. What he undertook to do he went right at!

“If he can only do it,” Billy Topsail said.

Jimmie Grimm and Donald North and Bagg stared at Billy Topsail like a litter of eager and expectant little puppies. And Bill o’ Burnt Bay stood like a wise old dog behind. If only Archie could!

CHAPTER XXIII

In Which Sir Archibald Armstrong Is Almost Floored By a Business Proposition, But Presently Revives, and Seems to be About to Rise to the Occasion

Sir Archibald Armstrong was a colonial knight. His decoration–one of Her late Majesty’s birthday honours–had come to him for beneficent political services to the colony in time of trouble and ruin. He was a Newfoundlander born and bred (though educated in the English schools); and he was fond of saying in a pleasantly boastful way and with a little twinkle of amusement in his sympathetic blue eyes: “I’m a fish-merchant, sir–a Newfoundland fish-merchant!” This was quite true, of course; but it was only half the truth. Directly or indirectly, Sir Archibald’s business interests touched every port in Newfoundland, every harbour of the Labrador, the markets of Spain and Portugal, of the West Indies and the South American Republics.

Sir Archibald was alone in his cozy office. The day was raw and wet. There was a blazing fire in the grate–an agreeable bit of warmth and brightness to contrast with the rain beating on the window-panes.

A pale little clerk put his head in at the door. “Beg pardon, sir,” he jerked. “Master Archie, sir.”

“Master Archie!” Sir Archibald exclaimed.

Archie entered.