CHAPTER XXIII
IT WAS GOD'S WILL
Skipper Ed was appalled and stunned. A sense of great weakness came uponhim, and he swayed, and with an effort prevented his knees from doublingunder him. His vision became clouded, like the vision of one in a dream.His brain became paralyzed, inert, and he was hardly able to comprehendthe terrible tragedy that he believed inevitable.
Had there been any means at his command whereby he could at least haveattempted a rescue, it would have served as a safety valve. But he wasutterly and absolutely helpless to so much as lift a finger to relievethe two boys whom he loved so well and who had become so much a part ofhis life.
And there was Abel Zachariah and Mrs. Abel. Vaguely he remembered themand the great sorrow that this thing would bring upon them. He knew wellthat they would place none of the responsibility upon himself, but,nevertheless, he could but feel that had he remained with the boys theywould now have been safe.
Home? His cabin would never be home to him again, without his partner.He could never go over to Abel Zachariah's again of evenings, with noBobby there. Only two days ago he had thanked God for sparing the livesof the boys, and how proud he had been of their heroic action, and theirpluck, too, after he had got them safe into the _igloo_!
He could see them now--barely see them through the snow. He watchedtheir faint outlines, and then the swirling snow hid them, and the icefloe and only black waters remained.
Then it was that Skipper Ed fell to his knees, and, kneeling there inthe driving Arctic storm and bitter cold, prayed God, as he had neverprayed before, to work a miracle, and spare his loved ones to him.Nothing, he remembered, was beyond God's power, and God was good.
When, presently, he arose from his knees, Skipper Ed felt strangelyrelieved. A part, at least, of the load was lifted from his heart. Hecould not account for the sensation, but, nevertheless, he feltstronger, and a degree of his old courage had returned.
He stood for a little longer gazing seaward, but nothing was to be seenbut black, turbulent, surly waters and swirling snow, and at length heturned reluctantly back to his sledge.
The dogs were lying down, and already nearly covered by the drift. Hecalled to them to go forward, and, arriving at the _igloo_, listlesslyunharnessed and fed them, and retreated to the shelter of the _igloo_ tothink.
He could eat nothing that night, but he brewed some strong tea over thestone lamp. Then he lighted his pipe and sat silent, for a long while,forgetting to smoke.
With every hour the wind increased in force, and before midnight one ofthose awful blizzards, so characteristic of Labrador at this season, wasat its height. Once Skipper Ed removed the snow block at the entrance ofthe _igloo_, and partly crawled out with a view to looking about, but hewas nearly smothered by drift, and quickly drew back again into the_igloo_ and replaced the snow block.
"The poor lads!" said he. "God help and pity them, and" he addedreverently, "if it be Thy will, O God, preserve their lives."
Skipper Ed finally slipped into his sleeping bag and fell into atroubled sleep, to awake, as morning approached, with a great weightupon his heart, and with his waking moment came the realization of itscause. He arose upon his elbow and listened. The tempest had passed.
He sprang up, and drawing on his _netsek_ and moccasins, for these werethe only garments he had removed upon lying down, he went out and lookedabout him. The stars were shining brilliantly, and an occasional gust ofwind was the only reminder of the storm. Mounds of snow marked the placewhere the dogs were sleeping, covered by the drift. The morning wasbitterly cold.
He ran down to the ice edge, and gazed eagerly seaward, but nowherecould he see the ice pack. It had vanished utterly.
A sense of awful loneliness fell upon Skipper Ed. Reluctantly hereturned to the _igloo_ and prepared his breakfast, which he atesparingly. Then until day broke he sat pondering the situation. Therewas nothing he could do, and he decided at length to return at once toAbel Zachariah's, and report the calamity.
When he emerged again from the _igloo_ the last breath of the storm hadceased to blow and a dead calm prevailed. He loaded the _komatik_, andcalling the dogs from beneath their coverlets of snow, harnessed them,and without delay set out for the head of Abel's Bay.
It was long after dark when the dogs, straining at their traces andyelping, rushed in through the ice hummocks below Abel's cabin. Thecabin was dark, but a light flashed in the window as the sledge ascendedthe incline. Abel and Mrs. Abel had heard the approach, and when thesledge came to a stop before the door they were there to give welcomeand greetings.
"Where is Bobby? And where is Jimmy?" asked Abel. "Are they coming?"
"They will never come," answered Skipper Ed.
Abel and Mrs. Abel understood, for tragedies, in that stern land, arecommon, and always the people seem steeled to meet them. And so insilence they led the way into the cabin, and in silence they sat,uttering no word, while Skipper Ed related what had happened. And thoughstill there was no crying and no wailing from the stricken couple,Skipper Ed knew that they felt no less keenly their loss, and he knewthat they had lost what was dearer to them than their own life.
"And now," said Skipper Ed, when he was through, "I will unharness thedogs and take care of the things on the _komatik_."
"Yes," said Abel, "we will look after the dogs. You will stop with ustonight, for your _igloosuak_ (cabin) is cold."
And when they had cared for the dogs and had eaten the supper which Mrs.Abel prepared, Abel Zachariah took his Eskimo Bible from the shelf andread from it, and then they sang a hymn, and when the three knelt inevening devotion he thanked God for the son He had sent them out of themists from the Far Beyond where storms are born, and had seen fit tocall back again into the mists, for the son had been a good son and hadmade brighter and happier many years of their life. It was God's will,and God's will was law, and it was not for them to question therighteousness of His acts.
And that night when Mrs. Abel turned down the blankets on Bobby's bedfor Skipper Ed, she thought of the time when Bobby was little, and shelay by his side of evenings to croon him to sleep with her quaintEskimo lullabies.