Billy Topsail & Company: A Story for Boys

“Tom Tulk!” Skipper George exclaimed. “By thunder!” he roared, “Tom Tulk has blowed!”

For the second time that day the rat-like little clerk of the Black Eagle bared his teeth–now with a little snarl.

“They’ve no proof,” said the skipper.

“True,” the clerk agreed; “but they’s as many as two lost jobs aboard this vessel. They’ll be two able-bodied seamen lookin’ for a berth when the Black Eagle makes St. John’s.”

“Well, Tommy Bull,” said the skipper, with a shrug, “’tis the clerk that makes prices aboard a tradin’ schooner; and ’twill be the clerk that will explain in this particular case.”

“Huh!” Tommy Bull sneered.

Next day the Black Eagle, with her fish again aboard, put to sea and sped off on a straight course for St. John’s. Notwithstanding the difficulties in store, clerk and skipper were in good humour with all the world (except Tom Tulk); and the crew was never so light-hearted since the voyage began. But as the day drew along–and as day by day passed–and as the home port and Sir Archibald’s level eyes came ever nearer–the skipper grew troubled. Why should the Black Eagle have been ordered home? Why had Sir Archibald used that mysterious and unusual word “forthwith” with such emphasis? What lay behind the brusque order? Had Tom Tulk played false? Would there be a constable on the wharf? With what would Sir Archibald charge the skipper? Altogether, the skipper of the Black Eagle had never sailed a more disquieting voyage. And when the Black Eagle slipped through the narrows to St. John’s harbour he was like a dog come home for a thrashing.

CHAPTER XXXI

In Which the “Spot Cash” is Picked up by Blow-Me-Down Rock In Jolly Harbour, Wreckers Threaten Extinction and the Honour of the Firm Passes into the Keeping of Billy Topsail

The Spot Cash made for the French Shore with all the speed her heels could command. The seventh of August! How near it was to the first of September! The firm of Topsail, Armstrong, Grimm & Company, with the skipper and cook, shivered to think of it. Ten more trading days! Not another hour could they afford if the Spot Cash would surely make St. John’s harbour on the specified day. And she would–she must–Archie declared. His honour was involved–the honour of them all–of the firm of Topsail, Armstrong, Grimm & Company. Had not Sir Archibald said so?

So in the harbours of the Shore Bill o’ Burnt Bay once more tussled valiantly with “The Lost Pirate,” and the flags flew, and the phonograph ground out inviting music, and Bobby North shook the hornpipe out of his active toes, and Bagg double-shuffled, and the torches flared, and “Kandy for Kids” and “Don’t be Foolish and Fully Fooled” persuaded the populace, and Signor Fakerino created mystification, and Billy Topsail employed his sweet little pipe most wistfully in the old ballad of the coast:

“Sure, the chain ’e parted,
An’ the schooner drove ashore,
An’ the wives of the ’ands
Never saw un any more,
No more!
Never saw un any mo-o-o-re!”

It was all to good purpose. Trade was even brisker than in White Bay. Out went the merchandise and in came the fish. Nor did the Spot Cash once leave harbour without a hearty, even wistful, invitation to return. Within seven days, so fast did the fish come aboard, the hold had an appearance of plethora. Jimmie Grimm and Bagg protested that not another quintal of fish could be stowed away. It was fairly time to think of a deck-load. There was still something in the cabin: something to be disposed of–something to turn into fish. And it was Archie who proposed the scheme of riddance.

“A bargain sale,” said he. “The very thing.”

“An’ Jolly Harbour’s the place,” said the skipper.

“Then homeward bound!” shouted Archie.

They ran into Jolly Harbour on the wings of a brisk southerly wind–and unfortunately in the dusk brought up hard and fast on Blow-Me-Down Rock.

Aground! They were hard and fast aground on Blow-Me-Down Rock in Jolly Harbour at high tide. A malignant sea made a certainty of it. It lifted the Spot Cash– drove her on–and gently deposited her with a horrifying list to starboard. Archie Armstrong wrung his hands and stamped the deck. Where was the first of September now? How was the firm to–to–what was it Sir Archibald had said?–yes; how was the firm to “liquidate its obligations” on the appointed day and preserve its honour?

“By gettin’ the Spot Cash afloat,” said Skipper Bill, tersely.

“And a pretty time we’ll have,” groaned Archie.

“I ’low,” Bill drawled, “that we may be in for a prettier time still.”

“Sure, it couldn’t be worse,” Billy Topsail declared.

“This here,” Bill explained, “is Jolly Harbour; an’ the folk o’ Jolly Harbour isn’t got no reputations t’ speak of.”

This was hardly enlightening.

“What I means,” Skipper Bill went on, “is that the Jolly Harbour folk is called wreckers. They’s been a good deal o’ talk about wreckers on this coast; an’ they’s more lies than truth in it. But Jolly Harbour,” he added, “is Jolly Harbour; an’ the folk will sure come swarmin’ in punts and skiffs an’ rodneys when they hear they’s a vessel gone ashore.”

“Sure, they’ll give us help,” said Billy Topsail.

“Help!” Skipper Bill scornfully exclaimed. “’Tis little help they’ll give us. Why, b’y, when they’ve got her cargo, they’ll chop off her standing rigging and draw the nails from her deck planks.”

“’Tis a mean, sinful thing to do!” cried Billy.

“They live up to their lights, b’y,” the skipper said. “They’re an honest, good-hearted, God-fearin’ folk on this coast in the main; but they believe that what the sea casts up belongs to men who can get it, and neither judge nor preacher can teach them any better. Here lies the Spot Cash, stranded, with a wonderful list t’ starboard. They’ll think it no sin to wreck her. I know them well. ’Twill be hard to keep them off once they see that she’s high and dry.”

Archie began to stamp the deck again.

When the dawn broke it disclosed the situation of the schooner. She was aground on a submerged rock, some distance offshore, in a wide harbour. It was a wild, isolated spot, with spruce-clad hills, which here and there showed their rocky ribs rising from the edge of the water. There was a cluster of cottages in a ravine at the head of the harbour; but there was no other sign of habitation.

Evidently the schooner’s deep list betrayed her distress; for when the day had fully broken, a boat was pushed off from the landing-place and rowed rapidly towards her.

“Here’s the first!” muttered Skipper Bill. “I’ll warn him well.”

He hailed the occupant, a fisherman with a simple, good-humoured face, who hung on his oars and surveyed the ship.

“Keep off, there!” shouted the skipper. “We need no man’s help. I warn you an’ your mates fair not to come aboard. You’ve no right here under the law so long as there’s a man o’ the crew left on the ship, and I’ll use force to keep you off.”

“You’re not able to get her off, sir,” said the fisherman, rowing on, as if bent on boarding. “She’s a wreck.”

“Billy,” the skipper ordered, “get forward with a gaff and keep him off.”

With that the fisherman turned his punt about and made off for the shore.

“Aye, aye, Billy!” he called, good-naturedly. “I’ll give you no call to strike me.”

“He’ll come back with others,” the skipper remarked, gloomily. “’Tis a bad lookout.”

“We’ll try to haul her off with the punt,” suggested Archie.

“With the punt!” the skipper laughed. “’Twould be as easy to haul Blow-Me-Down out by the roots. But if we can keep the wreckers off, by trick or by force, we’ll not lose her. The Grand Lake passed up the coast on Monday. She’ll be steamin’ into Hook-and-Line again on Thursday. As she doesn’t call at Jolly Harbour we’ll have t’ go fetch her. We can run over in the punt an’ fetch her. ’Tis a matter o’ gettin’ there and back before the schooner’s torn t’ pieces.”

At dawn of the next day Skipper Bill determined to set out for Hook-and-Line to intercept the steamer. In the meantime there had been no sign of life ashore. Doubtless, the crew of the Spot Cash thought, the news of the wreck was on its way to neighbouring settlements. The wind had blown itself out; but the sea was still running high, and five hands (three of them boys) were needed to row the heavy schooner’s punt through the lop and distance. Muscle was needed for the punt; nothing but wit could save the schooner. Who should stay behind?

“Let Archie stay behind,” said Billy Topsail.

“No,” Skipper Bill replied; “he’ll be needed t’ bargain with the captain o’ the Grand Lake.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Billy,” said the skipper, “you’ll stay.”