Adventures Captain Doyle,

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 8, Issue 27, 2 April 1907, Page 7

Adventures Captain Doyle,

Iftfopyrlght.):

BY GRAHAM LAWSON.

PART 12. CODDING ON THE GRAND !

BANKS

When the Russian yacht Violet was laid by, and, as her owner said, for an indefinite period, the yacht's skipper found himself out, of berth. The command did not last- for a great length of time, as Doyle know when he was first employed. As master of the Violet he had been paid a salary beyond his dreams, and though the mastership was only six or seven months' duration lie had saved some live hundred pounds. It was in Marseilles where he received his notice of disengagement, and it, was in Marseilles that the idea of setting out' "on his own," as bo called if, occurred to him. But before procetding with it, he called upon Nolot'f, (lie Russian yacht, owner.

"I shall be away for live months or .so," Doyle explained Lo his late employer, "but if you require my •services at the end of that time a note addressed lo (he British Consul's at this port wiLI reach me as soon as T arrive back. You mentioned to me (hat you might, requir* me before the end of the year to fake charge of the Violet. I shall bo only too pleased to return." Tlie Russian smiled.

"You may depend upon it, captain," he said, "that if I again go seafaring T shall be glad to have you with mi!. You have- rendered me oin; service. I shall not forget in a hurry. I am uncertain as to whether 'I shall again use the yacht, and meanwhile 1 go with my 'brother to mix in .some internal affair of Russia."

The skip|H;r and Noloff so parted on the friendliest of terms, but with a mist hanging over Iho future of Tom Boyle's El Dorado, the yacht,. He had not spoken of the venture, in his mind ; lie had discussed it so far with no one. Communion with himself ; observation and open ears ; a hand to jot in pencil every detailthat was the method 'by which he worked up the results of his coming adventure.

He had taken comfortable apartments in Marseilles that overlooked the wharves, and every morning discovered him strolling around amongst sailorinen. lie dived aboard schooners and barques, looking eagerly for the ship his fancy had built. He found her at last, a wooden, twomasted schooner of some three hundred and fifty tons net register, and straightway he interrogated the mate and was in turn brought to the skipper in his cabin. Tho French master politely pointed Doyle to a seat and Doyle made himself comfortable on a horsehair soi'a. His oyos ran over the furniture of file poky cabin.' It was certainly rough, though strong and in good condition. No nmhognny was there, and not an inch of decorative carving or wood that thing of beauty Doyle had commanded from New York. Nevertheless it was all to Doyle's acceptance, tie wanted a rough, strongship—rough and strong in every way. Her middle-aged skipper removed his spectacles, carefully spread the newspaper upon his knees, and regarded his visitor.

"1 have few Englishmen come here to see me," ho said, with a small French accent. "Are y.ou from the mission V"

"No," said Doyle; "I don't deal in that, line, captain. I've been around your decks admiring, and I'd like to know who owns her, and if she's for Bale,"

The Frenchman's eyes lighted. "Now," he said, "is that not fortuiititc? I am the owner, and as you came in I was looking at the Papers to see if a man should be advertising to buy."

"I'm looking for a handy craft like this one," said Doyle, "and provided we can arrange terms I'd be I>l eased to take. her. Can you tell me what trades she has been in, her age, and so on ?"

"T will supply nil that news gladly," returned the genial Frenchman, eagerly. Though first 1" must tell you the reason I wish her to dispose. 1 am getting on in years—a sailor picks up his age very quick—and I am u married man with two small and pretty children. I. am tired of the sea. I prefer my wine shop and to look after my wife and family here. 1 have made a little money by which my mites in the wine shop will get a good education, and clothing and food, and "—the Frenchman smiled happily—"that is my delight." Doyle had not heard healthy sentiments like these for time enough, and he took a liking to the domesticated Frenchman on that account. To indifference caution and the use of a steely tongue had been mostly his experience with seafarers. His travels and doings were constantly opening up to him new avenues of thought, and thereby education : and his usual weakness or strength, according to the reader's discrimination, were set once again to work, His keen observation had become an instinct with him, and thus was he able to choose his friends with what o:her people might call indiscrimination. Again, when he was attracted, the attraction lasted: he deserted no friend with the slightest haste.

The Frenchman gave his name as Pierre Jacques, and after offering his visitor a glass ;of wine specially mixed by madame. his wife, and sold only to certain friends. 'Poyle walked over the schooner. The holds we'v empty except, for some shingle ballast in the main hatch, and up and down the ladders elimbed the two men. on examination bent. The overhaul was approved by Doylo. Jtto liked the schooner: she was a

thing after his own heart. She had been employed in various trades, her coasting career varying from the British Isles to the furthest reach of the Mediterranean; her deepwater routes to the African coast the Cape, from the States to Europe and back, outward to the Plate with a cargo of casked wine, and homeward with grain from the Argentine. But that last cargo .was long ago carried, and she had voyaged Marseilles with no hope of ferrying mora freight.

"I'll tell you for what I require her,'' said Doyle, when the list of her experiences had closed, "and that is for cod-fishing on the Newfoundland Banks.'' The Frenchman raised his black eyebrows. "Ah !"■ lie exclaimed, "you have the right thing spoken. It is for the Bank fishing that my schooner Marie is good. I myself did to the Banks go when I was young, and there I did make a deal of pay to bring home and present to my Louise. That was happy days for me. I always think of the Newfoundland Banks with affection. They did bring me a wife, they did bring mo happiness, they did bring me all I want." Doyle was amused and pleased at the Frenchman's outbreak, of emotion "Did you like the trade—the codfishing, I mean ?" "Vary: much," replied Jacques. "T suppose you understand the ins and outs of it '?" "Oh, yes. Many long hours have 1 hung over the bulwark looking down at the water, with my fishing-lino down, waiting for cod to bite the baited hook." "Your experience may help me considerably." "If you will come ashore with mo, to my wineshop up the road there we will talk further and maybe you will be persuaded by my wile to there take some dinner." Doyle agreed to the proposal, and presently he and the Frenchman walked briskly along the quay, and presently came to the wineshop of Pierre .Jacques. Madame was behind the scrupulously clean bar with sleeves elbow-rolled and polishing glasses she had just washed. She showed a set of immaculate white teeth, and was pleased to know any friend of her husband. A golden-haired, blue-eyed girl of seven came to Doyle, and coaxingly coiled her fingers around Doyle's hard, rough hand. "Well," he. said to Jacques, after he had kissed the pretty stranger, and presented her with a franc, piece "I don't wonder at your wanting to stay at home;" and madame who could speak English as well as her husband, laughed with Jacques at Doyle's words, "I've evidently some thing to live for," he said. "Her name is Marie." he said. "So you christened the- schooner after her?"

"Yes. I have great interest in each."

To a neat and not poorly-furnished back room went Jacques and Doyle. And here the sum of 1 heir business was approached. A price was eagerly agreed upon for the Marie's purchase, and with if Jacques offered to lend all his assistance which his experience of the Banks had taught him. Fifteen dhurries had to be bought—light, frail, handy craft in which two men could go lishing. Also fishing lines and hooks and what not had to be purchased together with canvas and ropes, holds thoroughly overhauled and caulked where necessary, and all this work fitted in three weeks. Jacques showed a great interest at the beginniog,' but he became more enthusiastic, as the days raced by. Tn the evenings he and Doyle strolled around the quays and chatted, so that in time their interests in each oilier was as near absorbed as in themselves. The child, Marie, too often walked with her father and the skipper Avhen they sought pleasure, and Doyle bought her pretty toys that her bright eyes fancied. As for the boy of Jacques, he was studious. Tie loved to daub with bright colours, and accordingly Doyls bought the lad a box of paints and brushes. Jacques himself loathed the idea of Doyle's departure, and it need not be wondered at that when Tom Doyle offered Jacques a handsome wage, or a share in the proceeds of the cod-fishing if Jacques would go to (lie Banks Jacques interviewed his wife and painted a glowing account of the money he would bring her if she made One short trip to sea. At first, of course, madame would not consent. No, she would not flinch, and Pierre need not try' to coax her. She had detefi-niued to keep him at home once and for all. But material comforts for the family were at stake, argued Jacques, lie was not anxious to go to the Banks lie did not love the sea. He hated it. But lie wished to go there that his wife and family might benefit. And so madame relented and gave way. And to Doyle's apartments came the Frenchman to carry the glad news and record the argument and gentle persuasion he had had to use to win the consent of madame.

A crow was shipped for the schooner, and these men came aboard and started their voyage by lashing- the dhorries keel uppermost upon the hatches and house for'ard. In the afternoon of that day the lines holding' the "Marie to the quay were lot go. and a tug at (lie head of the schooner gave the little vessel way. Madame was the last to leave the ship. She had carried on board two parcels—one delivered to her husband the other to Doyle. She waved a farewell from the docksido, little Marie grasping one hand and fluttering a white handkerchief. And that was the last that Jacques and the skipper saw of the woman and her daughter. The English Channel met the schooner with clear weather and moderately fair winds, and the fast little craft threshed her course along the green,i wide track. She sighted the light of the Scilly Islands, drew them abeam and dropped them astern. The fair wind was still blowing, gathering steady strength, and the course of the Marie was set acroes the Atlantic, her head pointing for the Xewfoundland Banks. But luck did not favour her voyage above the average. The usual long spells of westerly winds, with variable southerlies, first cauoht her ahead and ihen abtaw, A

1 Hard nor'-west gale smote her in midAtlantic; but, thorough sea-boat as she was, slie kept a deck that, did not ship one sea. 'And Boyle was mightily pleased with her. Jacques averred that the Marie was. the lines I, schooner he had ever sailed in. His ' part of the ship's business was to take alternate watch with Doyle: and since Jacques called Doyle captain, and Boyle called Jacques chief mate, and many a glass of wine the two men sipped in the rough cabin. As for the parcels madame had put en board Doyle discovered in his warm woollen mitts and mufllers. a face cover, a bad-weather cap, and a framed photograph of the little Marie who had grown so fond of him That last hung over the mirror so that the light might, fall upon it. and from where the bright eyes might dance merrily and lighten the heart of Pierre Jacques. So that Doyle did not trouble with his theory of abborration that trip, lie had found other interests in life, and he \vas glad to have them, lie had many discussions with Jacques about the coming fishing ; talked too of Marseilles and listened with intent ears to stories Jacques retailed in his pleasant story-telling fashion of the French Revolution.

The Marie caught the tail of the Grand Banks four weeks after her departure from the home port, when the Arctic current striking her starboard bow, and dropping her temperature in one hour from fifty-two degrees to twenty-live. Then Jacques came on deck muflled up and mitted and Doyle sampled mndame's homemade outfit for the Banks. New w the trade, as he was, the skipper ifelt infinitely grateful for the Frenchman's wife's kindness and thought. "I don't, wonder at Jacques wanting to stop at home," commented Doyle. The next day fishing-tackle was brought on deck, the dhorries were unlashed ready for launching, and a stout, new manilla rope was hauled out of the fore-peak and dropped on to a small anchor. The lead was dropped overside; a cast had been taken overy watch from the period of the Marie taking shallows ; and the schooner swung in a calm that night sixty miles or so south of the Virgin Rocks.

Baited linos were dropped over the rails, and during the middle watch the schooner fell in with a shoal of coil. When Doyle came on deck, lie found Jacques and the hands busily hauling in the lish. This continued until daylight., when the shoal cleared away to fresh pastures. The anchor of the Marie was let go, and to it she hung, tied by h.T manilla cable. Rails were made fast, and Ihe dh-orries launched, and presently a fleet of small boats stretched out in a circle, with a circumference of two miles. The greater part of the dny the men stayed out. returning' with their craft half-loaded with line cod. Doyle and Jacques split the lish. salted them ami .shot them inio the hold

"That's our first haul. Jacques," said Doyle. "If we keep on like (his we won't, be more than a. month getting a full load."

And with this the two men went to the cabin and drank off a tumbler of hot wine. Each day the fishing was carried on with varied success and under a temperature well below freezing and the slack of salted whit» fish bodies grew into fine bulk beneath lbhatches. For experience's sake Doyle went boating and the cunning game raised his enthusiasm. He pulled at his line, bringing up from the Atlantic the wriggling cod : and in the afternoon he went back to the schooner with his accompanying hand to put aboard a record "catch" The schooner did not hang to any one spot for more than a couple of days. She had to hunt, for shoals, and when found down went her anchors and out went the dhorries. 'As well, too, she had her share of the bad weather that makes up half the life on the flrand Banks. A fierce gale from the southwest swooped down one black night bringing with it a deluge. The schooner was hoveto, and lishing' was delayed for full five days. A huge sea worked up, crossing with the shifts of wind. When the outer arc of the storm had passed, the wind died out, leaving the Marie with flapping canvas to fumble and lurch in the angry storm She had sighted two steamers to the southwest, stoering towards the east, and to these had been exhibited the usual red and green sidelights that vessels under way must carry ; and in the dark hours, while fishing was ! carried on, only a white light was . shown that swung from the forestay

The cod came in in thick shoals on the heels of the gale and to take all advantage, for two days ceaseless watering was done.. Sliced and salted they were by the brisk lingers of Jacques and Doyle, and into the hold to swell the heap there, now but four feet from the main deck. With this work accomplished, and no more fish to be hooked, all hands turned in for a very much needed sleep. , Doyle was the exception. In seaboots, and well-mullled a fur cap down to his eyebrows, he stood at the wheel and steered the schooner across the lonely sea, with never a sound save the heave of the bows as they rose and fell, forging a path for the schooner to the west. The skipper's eyes travelled aloft to the icicled spars, to which hung the stiffened canvas and he spoked the little wheel as the weather leaches of the grey boards tlapped up to the bitter wind.

Once he turned aft, and lifted the wheel box lid and shattered some flakes of ice that hardened the steering ropes upon the wooden spindle, and his feet kicked at the swollen tackles to ease their running jover the sheaves in the blocks. His pipe was between his teeth, his thoughts upon the fish in the holds. The dreary watch slipped by, and presently the cook dived from the galley and pas-

sed into the fo'c'sle to call the hands A figure, rotund with cloth, shambled aft some time later, and took the wheel from the skipper, and Jacques put his head over the companion nnd glanced with experienced eye across the desolate green stretch of waters. "Wo gat some fog by-and-by," he said to Doyle. "I think so' Jacques. The wind idying out, and what thsre is of It is shifty/i

• The two men descended to the cabin for dinner, and, true to their expectations (hey came above again lo lind the air breathless-, with an •extra, chill in it. and (he circle of the sea dimmed out. The sky hung aloft grey and gloomy, and under it the .Marie stood upon the slow heaves of the Banks, with never a shiver from her sails in reply to the easy .swing from swell to swell. Her codding lines were in the water, and as .Jacques reached the deck he crossed hastily to the bulwark, and fell, one of the hanging fishing-ropes. "More (ish !" lie cried glot-kullv, "More (ish, captain." "That's good news, Jacques. Bo.uso {»it the hand:;." To Jacques calling, they pourt'd. on deck, and the schooner was once- 'more girt with life. The dhorries- were launched quickly, and Ushers leapt into them. "We must hurry." sai'd Doyle, "The fog may soon be here." 1 "Yes," agreed Jacques, "i.vc must make the most of our tinno, for if fog comes wc shall have to return, to the ship." "Think it safe, Jacques to venture '?" "Oh, yes, captain, we. can easily put back. The Newfoundland fisherman cannot afford to lose Ij.sh because of fog. 1 myself have beem away in (lie thickest of weather. When the mists come we pull close .aboard." "And we have the. hor.n. 1 think that can lie heard, a good mile away on quiet water." "Sure." said Jacques with the American slung of his early days on the Grand flanks. However the fog gave no sign of yet approaching, and even if it did, the Marie, was anchored. Doyle paid out the rope cable as the Jioats paddled from the schooner. Swift strokes inipelk-d the liny craft, and, weightless ahnost, upon the water, they shot out to their appointed grounds, .Across' the dank-laden air Doyle saw- them from the Marie's decks.

"They're hauling up fish as fast as they can he taken over the gunwale" remarked tin; skipper; and .Jacques, for a moment slopped in his work of sliding a cod and glanced over the bulwark rim. "I think," he observed as he leaned over the fish and continued his cleaning, "thai one more good haul after this will till our holds."

".lust about'," said Doyle, "and if the Jish keep about and don't get scared of our hooks, 1 lie hands can make a second trip, and we shall be loaded."

Jacques skimmed' the hazy sea-line beyond Ihe gumva.ies of the dhorries. ••If the fog Uee[*s oli',". he said. "I beiii'Ve it will. .The glass hasn't gone down a great deal." "Xo : and that's why I agree with you. Jacques. Think of it, man !" he laughed. "Why we shall be homeward bound within twelve hours."

"Oh !" cried Jacques. "I shall be glad when that: i hue comes." And in all likelihood it seemed that the e\vnt. was not far. The dhorries returned to the schooner, their wooden shelves loaded with cod which they threw up the schooner's decks, And away they went for more. *'You have a poor haul," said Jacques to one boatman. "I will go this trip, as it is the last, and you can slay aboard and salt down."

The .frenchman climbed nimbly ill to the craft and put, off. lie was evidently determined to make the most of his last chance at fishing. On the second cruise the dhorries did not catch such quick freights. The cod' had lessened and perhaps were timid. Occasionally Jacques cast his eyes around, seeing the horizon blur steadily out. The schooner lay in a blotch of filmy mist, and to Jacque's cars came the toot of the Marie's horn warning the dhorries to return.

Aboard the schooner Doylo watched anxiously. It would be a great pity to miss the opportunity of a full cargo, but as the fog was travelling towards his ship he deemed it unsafe to allow the crews too far away. The Marie was .anchored and safe, since there was no wind, but sound waves arc uncertain in their direction in fog, and a weak horn blown by a man on the schooner's fo'c'sle might 1)0 heard a half-mile off, a nd yet might not reach the fishermen's ears if they were almost under the bows. Thus the warning. "Keep the horns going!" Doyle cried from aft. The dhorries were growing indistinct, and all except fine were heading and pulling for the schooner.

Doyle's glasses went up to his eyes He observed Jacques dimly hauling aboard a fine fish.

The dhorries swung up alongside, and discharged what they had caught The fog came rapidly, and toot,,toot toot sounded from the horn in the bows of the schooner. The sea had faded, and the day grown dark. Doyle could not see more than the length of the Marie ; he could just make out the man on the look-out, and the notes of the horn were faint as they- reached the after-part of the vessel. But Doyle felt no fear for Jacques. He was one of those men who could find a way in utter darkness, knowing the course by instinct, and trailing, with the cunning of a trapper. As a test, a few minutes later the skipper shouted through a megaphone, "Jacques !" and there seemed to be a response in a human voice. Doyle was not certain. He shouted again through the bellmouthed trumpet. And this time in answer boomed the deep hoot of a steamer's whistle.

"Stop your engines I" roared Doyle.

He saw, as he shouted a huge phantom loom suddenly abreast. Her bows towered above the schooner's upper spars, and the next minute the steamer tore over the fore end of the Marie. It had all happened before the schooner's crew could gather wit enough to launch their dhorries and spring into them, and so the great gunboat rushed onward, leaving in her wake the men she had killed and the vessel she had for the time sunk,

as she rode over. There had occurred to the schooner ; what has very often occurred to Newfoundland fishermen. And whatever the people in charge of the steamer thought or surmised is not known to the recounter of these adventuoes of Captain Doyle. When Doyle, half choked from his

immersion, rose t () t lit; surface, he found i!mi he was aboard the aflerParl. of t In- Marie. Ik- stared forward. The schooner was ■ rent; she showed as two separate islands. A great, hole gaped amidships, and (ho sea washed over the division, gurgling and swishing ankle deep where Doyle stood.

A moment's shouting, a jump over I Vie great wound to the I'ore pari, of the vessel, and a hasty examination brought 1o him the fact oT his utter loneliness. The masts of the schooner were missing, and (lie hull of her sagged and sawed uneasily. The fogridden sea gave no sign of a. man saved from a terrible accident. Doyle called again and again, but in answer there came only the swish of the slow-heaving desolate waters. Of lu's lonely sojourn upon the wrecked .Marie the details matter not. The bitter fact faced him that all his sawing and toil, the risks he had contended, the dangers he had fought had come to nothing. Fortune had held out both hands to him but a minute before, and now he had to start life over again. days of weary waiting were his before a Liverpool-bound steamer sighted him, bore down to the derelict schooner, and carried the skipper aboard. His eyes had searched the dreary wastes of the Hanks from daylight to dark. He had seen one or two empty dhorries drifting- bottom upwards, nothing else, and ho gave his story to the steamer's captain on the bridge. Ho had not been deprived of either food or water. He was fresh, vigorous, and ready to do battle with Chance again.

He had of (en wondered where Pierre Jacques had got to, and on Ihe second day aboard the steamer he found out. On the tail of the Grand Hanks was picked up a dhorrie. In it. seated on thwarts, were two men, facing each other, and frozen to death.

"That's the second batch I've picked up this voyage,"- said the steamer's master.

"Evidently my luck's not all one way," said Doyle. "Poor Jacques ! I'll have to go to Marseilles and tell his wife Ihe sad story."

And to Marseilles ho travelled when the steamer dropped him at Liverpool. But of what madamo had to say Tom Doyle was silent. Of the one hundred and fifty pounds he possessed, lie gave her one hundred, and pretty Marie sobbed bitterly when he left the. wineshop.

After this he called at the Consul's, and received a letter which he carried to his apartments. The Russian Nolol'f desired Captain Doyle to telegraph to Paris on his receiving the letter.

"Well." said Doyle, as he left the house to buy a new rog-out, "here's for another throw of the dice, and T hope it won't be tragedv this time." ttte end.