Chain Locker by Bob Chaulk Page B

Mind yourselves there now before somebody goes overboard. You’re no good to nobody soppin’ wet.”
    Dodging the hostile elbows of a couple of sealers, Jackie craned his neck to watch as a dozen or so men climbed over the rail and lowered themselves to wooden beams suspended against the ship’s side just above the water. As the Viking weaved her way among the floes, each watched for an ice pan close enough to leap onto. Having seen his men safely spread along a substantial area of ice and already walking in the direction of the seals, the master watch headed down to the side stick. As he went over the gunwale, Captain Kean yelled after him, “Bring us back a feed now, boys. We’ll pick youse up in three or four hours.”
    â€œI’ll bring a few hearts back to you, Skipper,” the master watch yelled as his head disappeared below the rail.
    In the middle of all the commotion, the tallest man Jackie had ever seen appeared. Dressed in a long fur coat with a fur hat, he looked much too prosperous to be a seal hunter. He was talking in earnest to two equally well-dressed companions, pointing here and there, and discussing the whole scene being acted out before them.
    The captain turned his attention to the next group of hunters. “Now then, Simeon, we’ll drop your crowd off in brist of that next big hummock. That’ll put you closer to that next patch.”
    â€œWe’re all set, Skipper.”
    â€œWho are they ?” Jackie asked Henry, who was standing at the gunwale, staring down into the water as he waited for the word to spring over the side.
    Henry glanced up. “The ones with the fancy coats? I think they’re Americans.”
    â€œâ€™Mericans? Where do they come from?”
    â€œOff ye go, me b’ys!” Simeon yelled, motioning with his arms.
    Henry put one leg over, straddled the rail, and tentatively looked down at the black water. “What did you say?”
    â€œFrom New York, are they?”
    â€œYeah, I s’pose so.” He tucked his gaff under his arm, eased himself down the line to the side stick, and sprang onto the ice.
    Simeon stood on the side stick, grasping one of the ropes that suspended the beam about two feet above the black water sweeping below him. A small pan came by and in an instant he was on it. As it wobbled beneath his weight, he hopped to another, his toe skimming the water, and with the agility of a ballet dancer he flitted to another and then another until he was on the stable pack ice alongside his gang of sealers.

chapter fourteen
    â€œLije, what are you after fallin’ overboard?” Simeon asked a sealer who was shaking water from his pants and boots.
    â€œNo, b’y, but I had like to,” Elijah Fogarty replied merrily. “I slipped on that balleycatter and down I went, souso, handy up to me arse. Just managed to catch meself before I went in any farther. I got to put a few more sparbles onto me boots when we get back, I guess. Don’t worry; I’ll manage.”
    â€œYou’re soakin’ wet, sure. Do you want to go back aboard and get some dry pants?”
    â€œNo, b’y; these are the only ones I got to me name. They’ll freeze in a few minutes and make a good break against the wind.”
    â€œAll right then,” said Simeon. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to catch up to the vessel now, anyways.”
    The seals were almost a mile away and it was already mid-afternoon. Alternating between a fast walk and a trot, the ragtag group trekked across the ice, which was flat in places, but they sometimes had to climb over the pinnacles that formed where the ice floes got pushed atop one another in storms. When a sealer disappeared behind a pinnacle, Simeon kept watching until he reappeared. Like a diligent sheepdog, he shepherded his men, keeping an eye on the weather, the ice, and the ship until they were safely back aboard.
    â€œWatch yourself there,