Free Chain Locker by Bob Chaulk Page A

into one another trying to be first through the Narrows and out of the harbour and, you know Tom, only one ship can get through at a time, but they used to take some awful chances, sir. You remember when the Bonaventure ran into the ass end of the first Beothic out here in the harbour?”
    â€œI think so,” Tom had replied, only half listening as he tried to take inventory.
    â€œEighteen year ago, in 1913. I was aboard the Bonaventure . The ships was all lined up and heading for the Notch when all of a sudden the Beothic slowed down. We hit her some hard, ooh yes; we were too close to her, see, the old man all in a scravel to get goin’! If there had been anybody in the bow they would have been killed for sure. The poor old Beothic had to go back for repairs and missed the hunt. Some of those skippers serve their ships somethin’ barbarous and they don’t treat their men much better. They just got to be the first ones to the Front and then they’ll do anything to be the first one back with a full load. They say they don’t steal one another’s pelts but I’ve seen it happen. You pan a few hundred sculps and leave them out on the ice with nothing but the ship’s flag to keep watch over them; my sonny boy, that’s too much temptation for some fellers.”
    Jackie wished he could be on deck as the Viking took her place in the line of ships sailing towards the Narrows and on out the harbour. He had often stood on the top of Signal Hill, barely able to keep his balance against the winds screaming in from the Atlantic, high above what looked to him like toy ships coming and going through the Narrows. He used to imagine Paul Bunyan with his hunting knife cutting a thin slice through the cliffs as if they were a giant cheese, to let the waters of the Atlantic run into the bowl that was the harbour, the high cliffs on both sides making the way in and out precise and dangerous. So many times he had yearned to make the trip himself, and now that it was finally happening he was stuck in this dark prison, missing the whole show. Thinking about Nimshi Crowe’s story, he shuddered with the realization that if the Viking struck the stern of the ship in front of her, it might be the end of him.
    The blare of a loud horn made him jump. That must be the foghorn at Fort Amherst, he realized; we’re in the Narrows! A sharp turn to the left should soon indicate they were outside the harbour and bearing north towards Baccalieu Island. After what seemed like forever it finally came, along with a slow, constant roll of the ship. Jackie was officially off the island of Newfoundland for the first time in his life and aching to have a look back at his homeland and up at those brooding cliffs outside St. John’s harbour that he had climbed so many times.
    Cramped down among the coils of rope and chain, in a place not meant for any living being, Jackie soon became uncomfortably aware that the ship was no longer in the peaceful harbour. As she rose to meet the big waves rolling under her, he experienced more movement than if he had been anywhere else on the vessel, with the possible exception of the lookout’s barrel on the mainmast. Before long, the motion progressed from a gentle roll to a steady, monotonous pounding, as the bow climbed over each comber and crashed down into the trough and then rose again to meet the next one. A seat of chain and hard, damp rope did nothing to cushion the blows, and each time she came down, the impact reverberated through his body. As the hours passed, his head ached and he felt the occasional pain shoot up through his spine to the back of his neck.
    He thought about Dickie McCarthy and his ass-kicking father; there was no boot big enough to deliver the ass-kicking he was getting now. He felt like he was making up for all the times he had deserved one but had been spared. He kept shifting his position to spread the impact over his rear end, but he was