Death On the Ice by Cassie Brown

Author:Cassie Brown [Brown, Cassie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-385-67382-2
Publisher: Doubleday Canada
Published: 1972-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

Just before the fall of night, Wes Kean had sent for Tizzard.

“Bo’sun,” he said, “pick four men for watch duty. All the master watches are gone, so in the mornin’ ye’ll have to go to the barrel to scun her through the ice.”

Tizzard accepted the orders with good grace. His duties were on deck, but since all other officers were gone, someone had to take over. He went to the holds to pick his men for deck watch, and they came crowding around him.

“Why isn’t the whistle blowin’?” Jordan demanded.

Tizzard could feel himself growing defensive: “Because the cap’n said I could give it a blow or two, and that’s what I done.”

“A blow or two’s no bloody good to a bunch of men lost in a starm!” Jordan exclaimed.

Tizzard said doggedly, “The cap’n is certain his men are aboard the Stephano. He seen ’em go on board hisself.”

“Yah! But I got me doubts about that!” Jordan said.

They all had their doubts, and this did nothing to ease Tizzard’s mind. But he had no authority to go on blowing the whistle. He felt that his orders had been clear: a blow or two.

At supper Wes Kean ate heartily, envisioning pelts piled high on pans and waiting for them tomorrow. Now if this gale, with the swell it was kicking up, would just loosen the ice enough to get the Newfoundland a mile or two to the westward, he’d be in the clear…. Outside the wind moaned and the rigging complained. It was a damn dirty night. The wind seemed to be rising, too.

“At least our men are all right,” Wes said to Green, the only man who shared his table that night. “They’re on the Stephano and Father will look after them. They’ll have a chance to exchange ‘cuffers’ with the men on the Stephano.”

Supper finished, he put on his sealskin cap and coat and went to the bridge. Wind and snow made the night completely blind. He hurried below to look at the barometer on the wall just outside his private cabin.

“Fair,” it proclaimed.

Wes had an almost superstitious belief in the barometer. To see it pointing to “Fair” in a raging blizzard annoyed him.

“What’s all this fuss about?” he said to Green. “The glass don’t show fer it!”

It was impossible, Green knew, for the pressure to be what the glass said it was, in the middle of a storm like this. It should have been sent to Roper’s to be checked and set before leaving St. John’s. It hadn’t been set for years, and nobody knew how inaccurate it was.

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