er everywhere, every man was out with his
rope and gaff, as natural as a young duck takes to water.

"That evening t' ice packed in again, and by nightfall it all seemed
fast as ever. There was always a big tide made round Cape Blowmedown,
and as t' land fell sharp away on each side of it, it were never too
safe to go off very far on t' ice. But, that being a bad year, every
man was on his mettle, and us all took more chances than was real
right.

"From t' bluff of t' head Uncle Johnnie had spied old and young seals
on t' ice before most of t' boys was out o' bed; and us had a dozen or
so on t' rocks before t'others was out t' ice at all. As those near t'
land got cleaned up, us went a bit farther out each time; and more'n
one seal I didn't exactly see so's to give Uncle Johnnie a better
chance, and to let me keep all t' time outside o' he.

"Just before it came dark and we was two or three miles out, t' wind
shifted all of a sudden and came off t' land. Uncle Johnnie had a tow
of three big pelts, and, believe me, heaven and earth wouldn't have
made he leave them swiles behind. I'd left mine just as quick as I
felt t' shift, and never let on I had any, so's I could rope up Uncle
Johnnie's load and hustle him toward t' land. But t' ice was that
hummicky it was an hour before us got near, and there we were, almost
dark, t' ice broken off, driving along about twenty yards from t'
standing ice almost as fast as a man could walk, and t' wind
freshening every minute. There was about a mile to t' bill of t' Cape,
and after that there'd be no hope whatever.

"Four years before Jim Willis and his brother Joe had been caught just
t' same way. Joe had perished in his brother's arms next day after
he'd carried him for some hours, and Jim had drifted ashore on t'
second day with only a spark of life left in him.

"Every other man had been ashore and gone home for long ago, not
knowing we was working outside, and only one chance were left for we.
For t' gap of water was getting wider every minute, and there wasn't a
loose pan to ferry over on big enough to float a dog. So I shouted to
Uncle Johnnie to run along t' ice edge back up the bay just as hard as
he could go, and I'd jump into t' water and swim for t' standing ice
edge. I never expected to get out again, but t' good Lord arranged it,
I suppose, that I should strike a low shelf running off level with t'
water, and by kicking like a swile, I was able to climb up and on to