"Of course, I will," replied Cabot; and in another minute the young skipper was sculling ashore in the dinghy, while the schooner drifted more slowly in the same direction.

When they finally reached the factory wharf White was on hand to meet them, and beside him stood the slender, merry-eyed girl for whom the schooner had been named. She unaffectedly held out a hand to Cabot when they were introduced, and at once invited him to the house to meet her mother.

"Yes," said White, "you two go along, and don't wait for me. You see," he added, apologetically, to Cabot, "there's been a great catch of lobsters, and if I can only get them packed before we are interfered with, we'll make a pretty good season of it, after all."

So the new-comer walked with Cola up the straggling village street, past a score of fisher cottages, each with a tiny porch, pots of flowers in the front windows, and a bit of a garden fenced with wattles, to keep out the children, goats, dogs, and pigs, that swarmed on all sides. At length they came to the neatly kept and comfortable-looking house, overlooking the whole, that White Baldwin called home. Here Cabot was presented to the sweet-faced invalid mother, who sat beside a window of the living-room, from which she could look out on the little harbour, and who was eager to learn the details of his recent experiences that White had only found time to outline to her.

Both mother and daughter listened with deepest interest while Cabot told of the loss of the "Lavinia," and when he had finished Mrs. Baldwin said:

"You certainly made a wonderful escape, and I am grateful that my boy was granted the privilege of rescuing you from that dreadful raft. I am confident, also, that you have been brought to this place for some wise purpose, and trust that you are planning to remain with us as long as your engagements will permit."

"Thank you, madam," replied Cabot. "I wish I might accept your hospitality for a week, at least. For I am certain I should find much to enjoy in this delightful region. I feel, however, that I ought to catch to-morrow's train, as it is rather necessary for me to reach St. Johns without further delay."

"It seems queer," remarked Cola, "that this stupid place can strike even a stranger as being delightful, since there is no one to see but fisherfolk, who can talk of nothing but fish, and there isn't a thing to do but watch the boats go and come. For my part, I am so tired of it all that I wish something would happen to send us away from here forever."

"My dear!" said Mrs. Baldwin to Cola, reprovingly.

"Some one seems to have found an occupation here in collecting a cabinet of specimens," suggested Cabot, indicating, as he spoke, some shelves covered with bits of rock, that had attracted his attention.

"Yes," admitted Cola, "I have found some amusement in gathering those things; but I don't know what half of them are, and there is no one here to tell me."

"Possibly I might help you to name some of them," said Cabot, "as I have a bowing acquaintance with geology."

"Oh! can you?" cried the girl. "Then I wish you would, right away, for I am almost certain that several of them contain minerals, and I want awfully to know if they are gold."

The next moment the two young people were standing before the cabinet, deep in the mysteries of periods, ages, formations, series, and other profound geologic terms. All at once Cabot paused, and, holding a bit of serpentine in his hand, asked:

"Did this come from about here?"



"Yes; ail of them did."

"Could you show me the place, or somewhere near where you found it?"

"I think I could, if we had time; but not if you are going away in the morning, for it would take at least half a day."

"Well," said Cabot, "I believe I might wait over long enough for that, and guess I won't start for St. Johns to-morrow, after all."



CHAPTER X.

CABOT ACQUIRES A LOBSTER FACTORY.

The Baldwins were greatly pleased at Cabot's decision to wait over a train; for, as Mrs. Baldwin said, a desirable guest in that out-of-the-way corner of the world was the greatest of luxuries. White was glad to prolong the friendship so strangely begun, and also to escape a present necessity for leaving his work to carry Cabot to the distant railway station, while Cola was delighted to have found what she termed a geologic companion. After it was arranged that these two should set forth early the following day on a search for specimens, Cabot strolled down to the factory to learn something of the process of canning lobsters.

He was amazed at the change effected in so short a time. When he landed at Pretty Harbour the factory had been closed, silent, and deserted. Now it was a hive of bustling activity, in which every available person of the village, including women and children, was hard at work. Fires were blazing under a number of great kettles half filled with boiling water. Into these, green lobsters were tossed by barrowfuls, to be taken out a little later smoking hot and coloured a vivid scarlet. On the packing tables their shells were broken, and the extracted meat was put into cans, to which covers, each with a tiny hole in the middle, were soldered. Then the filled cans were steamed, by trayfuls, to exhaust their air; a drop of solder closed each vent, and they were ready for labelling and packing in cases. White Baldwin, in person, superintended all these operations, while David Gidge saw to the unloading of the "Sea Bee," and kept sharp watch on a gang of shouting urchins, who were withdrawing the live lobsters from the outside salt-water pens, in which they had been kept while awaiting their fate.

White was in high spirits, for the travelling agent of a St. Johns business house had just offered a good cash price for his entire pack.

"Of course," the young proprietor said to Cabot, as they viewed the busy scone, "we won't make anything like what we would if we were allowed a whole uninterrupted season; but, if they will only let us alone for a week, I'll pack a thousand cases. Those will yield enough to support us for a year, and before that is up I'm not afraid but that I'll find some other way of earning a living. Now, if I can only get sufficient help, I'm going to run this factory night and day for the next week, unless compelled by force to stop sooner."

Cabot was already so interested that he promptly volunteered to aid in making the all-important pack.

"I don't know anything about the business," he said, "but if you can make use of me in any way, I shall be only too glad of a chance to repay a small portion of the great debt I owe you."

"Nonsense!" laughed White. "You don't owe me a thing, and I don't want you to feel that way. At the same time I should be ever so glad of your help in getting things well started; for just now one strong fellow like you would be worth a dozen of those children."

So, a few minutes later, Cabot, clad in overalls and an old flannel shirt of White's, was as hard at work as though the canning of lobsters was the business of his life. Far into the night he laboured, only pausing long enough to go up to the house for supper; and, on the following morning, he was actually pleased that a heavy rain storm should postpone the trip for specimens, furnish him with an excuse for prolonging his stay, and leave him at liberty to resume his self-imposed task in the factory.

The storm lasted for two days, at the end of which time half the pack had been made, and Cabot had become so familiar with all details of the work as to be a most valuable assistant. On the third day, the supply of lobsters on hand being exhausted, operations were suspended until the boats could return with a new catch; and, as the weather was again fine, Cabot and Cola set forth on their geological exploration.

It was a glorious day, with a sky of deepest blue; the hot sunshine tempered by a cool breeze pouring in from the sea, and all nature sparkling with joyous life. To Cabot, who had thought of Newfoundland as a place of perpetual fog, and almost constant rain, the whole scene was a source of boundless delight. As the two young people climbed the steep ascent behind the village, new beauties were unfolded with each moment, until, when they reached the crest, and could look far out over the islanded bay, with the placid cove and its white hamlet nestling at their feet, Cabot declared his belief that there was not a more exquisite view in all the world.

After gazing their fill, the explorers plunged into a sweet-scented forest of spruce and birches, threaded by narrow wood roads, and tramped for miles, stopping now and then to examine some outcropping ledge or gather a handful of snow-white capilear berries. But the main object of their quest, the copper-bearing serpentine, was not found until they had gained the summit of the Blomidon range and were in full view of the sea. Then they came to a distinct outcrop of mineral-bearing rock that caused the eyes of the young geologist to glisten with anticipation.

While he chipped off specimens, studied the trend of the ledge, and made such estimates of its character as were possible from surface indications, his companion climbed a rocky eminence that, short of Blomidon itself, commanded the most extended view of any in that region. She had hardly gained the summit when she uttered a cry that attracted Cabot's attention and caused him to hasten in her direction. In a few moments he met her running breathlessly down the hill.

"What is it?" he asked. "Are you hurt?"

"A warship coming up the coast," she panted. "I saw it plainly, and we must get back with the news as quick as we can."

Much as Cabot hated to give over the exploration of that wonderful copper-bearing ledge, he did not hesitate to obey the imperative call of friendship, and accompanied Cola with all speed back to the village. When they reached it they found White jubilant over the extraordinary catch of lobsters that was even then being brought in.

"Hurrah!" he cried, as Cabot appeared. "Biggest catch of the season, and you are just in time to help pack it away. But what brings you back so early? I thought you were off for all day."

"Oh, White, they are coming!" gasped Cola.

"Who are coming?"

"A warship. I saw it from Maintop."

"British or French?"

"I don't know. I only knew it was a warship because it was so much bigger than the 'Harlaw' and had tall masts."

"Well, it don't make any difference," growled White, "one is just as bad as another, and our business is ruined anyway. Why couldn't they have kept away for three days longer?"

"What will they do?" inquired Cabot, curiously.

"I don't know," replied White, bitterly. "Either destroy or seize the whole plant and leave us to starve at our leisure. Now, I suppose we might as well go up to the house and tell mother. There's no use doing any more work under the circumstances."

"I don't see why not," objected Cabot, who was not accustomed to throwing up a fight before it was begun. "There is a possibility that the vessel may not be a warship after all, and another that she is not coming to this place. Even if she does, you don't know that she has any warrant for interfering with your business. So, if I were you, I'd go right on with the work and keep at it until some one compelled me to stop. I say, though, speaking of warrants gives me an idea. All you want is three days' delay, isn't it?"

"That is what I want most just now," replied White.

"Well, then, why not place this property in the name of some friend—David Gidge, for instance—and when those men-of-war people begin to make trouble let him ask them whose factory it is they are after. They will say yours, or your mother's, of course. Then he'll speak up and say in that case they've come to the wrong place, since this is the property of Mr. David Gidge, while their warrant only mentions that of Mrs. Whiteway Baldwin. It'll be a big bluff, of course, and won't work for very long, but it may puzzle 'em a bit and give the delay of proceedings that you require."

"I believe you are right about keeping on with the work," replied White, thoughtfully; "though I am not so sure about the other part of your scheme. Anyway, I must run to the house for a little talk with mother, and if you'll just set things going in the factory I shall be much obliged."

"All right," agreed Cabot, "I'll shake 'em up."

And he was as good as his word, for when, after an absence of more than an hour, White reappeared on the scene he found the factory in full blast, with its operatives working as they had never worked before, and Cabot Grant, the most disreputable-looking of the lot, urging them on by voice and example to still greater exertions. He seemed to be everywhere and doing everything at once.

"Hello, old man! We've got greenbacks to burn, and we're a-burning 'em," he cried cheerily as he paused to greet his friend, and at the same time dash the streaming perspiration from his face with a grimy hand. "What's the news?"

"The news is that you are a trump!" exclaimed White, "and that in spite of all you are doing for us we want you to grant us still another favour."

"Name it, my boy, and if it is anything within reason, including a defiance of the whole British navy, I'll do it," laughed Cabot.

"I hope you will, for it is something that we all want you to do very much," responded White. "You see it's this way. I spoke of your suggestion to mother, and she thought so well of it that I went to the magistrate and got him to draw up a deed transferring this property, for a nominal consideration, to a friend. Now it is all ready for signatures, and we want you to be that friend."

"Me!" cried Cabot, completely staggered by this unexpected result of his own planning. "You can't mean that. Why, you don't know anything about me. For all you know I might never give the property back to you."

"We are willing to risk that," replied White, "and would rather trust you to act for us in this matter than any one else we know. It is a big favour to ask, I know; but you said you felt indebted to me and only wanted a chance to pay off the debt, so I thought perhaps—but if you don't want to do it, of course——"

"But I will, if you really want me to," cried Cabot. "I have always longed to own a lobster factory. It never entered my head when I proposed the plan that I would help carry it out; but if you think I can be of the slightest assistance in that way, why of course I am only too glad."

So the papers constituting Cabot Grant, Esq., sole owner of the Pretty Harbour lobster factory were duly signed and recorded; and at sunset of that very evening our hero stood regarding his suddenly acquired property with the air of one who is dubiously pleased at a prospect.



CHAPTER XI.

BLUFFING THE BRITISH NAVY.

Cabot was not long allowed to enjoy his sense of possession before experiencing some of the anxieties of proprietorship; for, even as he stood overlooking his newly acquired factory, a clipper-built schooner, showing the fine lines and tall topmasts of an American, rounded the outer headland and entered the harbour. For a few minutes our young engineer, who was learning to appreciate the good points of a vessel, watched her admiringly as she glided across the basin and drew near the factory wharf. Then he was joined by White, who had been detained at the house, and they went down together to greet the new-comer.

She proved to be the fishing schooner "Ruth" of Gloucester, and her skipper, who introduced himself as Cap'n Ezekiel Bland, explained that he had come to the coast after bait.

"I 'lowed to get it in St. George," he said, "but there was a pesky French frigate that wouldn't allow the natives to sell us so much as a herring, though they had a-plenty and were keen to make a trade for the stuff I've got aboard."

"What kind of stuff?" asked Cabot, curiously.

"Flour and pork mostly. You see, I'm bound on a long trip, and being obliged to lay in a big supply of grub anyway, thought I might as well stow a few extra barrels to trade for bait; but now it looks like I couldn't get rid of 'em unless I give 'em away."

"There's plenty of bait in the bay," remarked White.

"Yes, so I've heard, and a plenty of frigates, too. The Frenchy must have suspicioned where I was bound, for he has followed us up sharp, and as we came by South Head I seen him jest a bilin' along 'bout ten mile astarn, and now he'll poke into every hole of the bay till he finds us. Anyhow, there won't be no chance to trade long as he's round, for you folks don't dare say your soul's your own when there's a Frenchy on the coast."

"Nor hardly at any other time," remarked White, moodily.

"There's another one, too—Britisher, I reckon—went up the bay towards Humber Arm ahead of us. I only wish the two tarnal critters would get into a scrap and blow each other out of the water. Then there'd be some chance for honest folks to make a living. Now I'm up a stump and don't know what to do, unless some of you people can let me have a few barrels of bait right off, so's I can clear out again to-night."

"There isn't any to be had here," replied White, "for this is a lobster factory, and the whole business of the place, just at present, is catching and canning lobsters. You'll find some round at York Harbour, though."

"No use going there now, nor anywhere else, long as that pesky Frenchman's on the lookout. Can't think what made him leave St. Pierre in such a hurry. Thought he was good to stay there a week longer at any rate. But say, who owns this factory?"

"This gentleman is the proprietor," replied White, indicating his companion as he spoke.

"Hm!" ejaculated the Yankee skipper, regarding Cabot with an air of interest. "Never should have took you to be the owner of a Newfoundland lobster factory. Sized you up to be a Yankee same as myself, and reckoned you was here on a visit. Seeing as you are the boss, though, how'd you like to trade your pack for my cargo—lobsters for groceries? Both of us might make a good thing out of it. Eh? I'll take all the risks, and neither of us needn't pay no duty."

"Can't do it," replied Cabot promptly, "because, in the first place, I'm not in the smuggling business, and in the second our whole pack is engaged by parties in St. Johns."

"As for the smuggling part," responded Captain Bland, "I wouldn't let that worry me a little bit. Everybody smuggles on this coast, which is neither British, French, nor Newfoundland. So a man wouldn't rightly know who to pay duties to, even if he wanted to pay 'em ever so bad, which most of us don't. If you have engaged your goods to St. Johns, though, of course a bargain is a bargain. Same time I could afford to pay you twice as much as any St. Johns merchant. But it don't matter much one way or another, seeing as the idea of trading was only an idea as you may say that just popped into my head. Well, so long. It's coming on dark, and I must be getting aboard. See you to-morrow, mebbe."

As the Yankee skipper took his departure, Cabot and White turned into the factory, where all night long fires blazed and roared beneath the seething kettles.

Until nearly noon of the following day the work of canning lobsters was continued without interruption, and pushed with all possible energy. Then a boy, who had been posted outside the harbour as a lookout, came hurrying in to report that he had seen a naval launch steaming in that direction.

The emergency for which Cabot had been planning ever since he consented to become the responsible head of the concern was close at hand, and he at once began to take measures to meet it.

"Draw your fires," he shouted. "Empty the kettles and cool them off. Pass all cans, empty or full, up into the loft, and then every one of you clear out. Remember that you are not to know a thing about the factory, if anybody asks questions, and you don't even want to give any one a chance to ask questions if you can help it. Run up to the house," he added, turning to the boy who had brought tidings of the enemy's approach, "and tell Mrs. Baldwin, with my compliments, that the carriage is ready for her drive."

So thoroughly had everything been explained and understood beforehand, and so promptly were these orders obeyed, that, half an hour later, when a jaunty man-of-war's launch, flying a British Jack, entered the little harbour, every preparation had been made for her reception. The factory, closed and silent, presented no outward sign that it had been in operation for months. Those who had recently worked so industriously within its weather-stained walls now lounged about their own house doors, or on the village street, as though they had nothing to do, and limitless leisure in which to do it. White Baldwin, with his mother and sister, had driven away in a cart, leaving their tenantless house with closed doors and tightly shuttered windows. Cabot Grant, with hands thrust into his trousers pockets, leaned against a wharf post and surveyed the oncoming launch with languid curiosity. The Yankee schooner swung gracefully at her moorings, and from her a boat was pulling towards shore; while on the deck of the "Sea Bee," also anchored in the stream, David Gidge placidly smoked a pipe.

The launch slowed down as it neared him, and an officer inquired in the crisp tones of authority:

"What place is this?"

Deliberately taking the pipe from his mouth, and looking about him as though to refresh his memory, Mr. Gidge answered:

"I've heard it called by a number of names."

"Was one of them Pretty Harbour?"

"Now that you mention it, I believe it were."

"What kind of a building is that?" continued the officer, sharply, pointing to the factory as he spoke.

David gazed at the building with interest, as though now seeing it for the first time.

"Looks to me like a barn," he said at length. "Same time it might be a church, though I don't reckon it is."

"Isn't it a lobster factory?"

"They might make lobsters in it, but I don't think they does. Mebbe that young man on the wharf could tell ye. He looks knowing."

Disgusted at this exhibition of stupidity, and muttering something about a chuckle-headed idiot, the officer motioned for his launch to move ahead, and, in another minute, it lay alongside the wharf.

"Is this the Pretty Harbour lobster factory?" demanded the officer as he stepped ashore.

"I believe it was formerly used as a lobster cannery," replied Cabot, guardedly, "but no business of the kind is being carried on here at present."

"It is owned by the family of the late William Baldwin, is it not?"

"No, sir."

"Who then does own the property?"

"I do."

"You!" exclaimed the officer. "And pray, sir, who are you?"

"I am an American citizen named Grant, and have recently acquired this property by purchase."

"Indeed. Then of course you possess papers showing the transfer of ownership."

"Certainly."

"I should like to look at them."

"They have been sent for record to the county seat, where any one who chooses may examine them."

"Where shall I find a person by the name of Whiteway Baldwin?"

"I can't tell you, as he has left the place."

"Is any member of his family here?"

"No. All of them went with him."

"Have you the keys of this factory?"

"I have."

"Then I must trouble you to open it, as I wish to look inside."

As the two entered the building, and the officer caught sight of the machinery used in canning lobsters, he said:

"I am very sorry, Mr. Grant, but I have orders to destroy everything found in this factory that has been, or may be, used in the canning of lobsters."

"Those orders apply to the property of Mrs. William Baldwin, do they not?"

"They do."

"Then, sir, since she no longer owns this building, and I do, together with all that it contains, I warn you that if you destroy one penny's worth of my property I shall at once bring suit for damages against both you and your commanding officer. I can command plenty of money and a powerful influence at home, both of which shall be brought to bear on the case. If it goes against you my claim will be pressed by the American Government at the Court of St. James. Moreover, articles concerning the outrage will be published in all the leading American papers. Public sentiment will be aroused, and you doubtless know as well as any one whether England, with all the troubles now on her hands, can afford to incur the ill will of the American people for the sake of a pitiful lobster factory. You can see for yourself that no illegal business—nor in fact business of any kind—is being carried on here at present, and, under the circumstances, I would advise you to take time for serious reflection before you begin to destroy the property of an American citizen."

Bewildered by this unexpected aspect of the situation, and remembering how a suit brought by the proprietors of that same factory had gone against a former British commander who had interfered with its operations, the officer hemmed and hawed and made several remarks uncomplimentary to Americans, but finally decided to lay the case before his captain. As he reentered his launch he said:

"Of course you understand, sir, that no work of any kind is to be done in this building between this and the time of my return, nor may anything whatever be removed from it."

"I understand perfectly," replied Cabot. Yet within half an hour the employees of the factory had returned to their tasks, fires had been re-lighted, kettles were boiling merrily, and the place again hummed with busy activity.

"Young feller, it was the biggest bluff I ever see, and it worked!" exclaimed Captain Ezekiel Bland a few minutes earlier, as he stood on the wharf with Cabot watching the departing launch.



CHAPTER XII.

ENGLAND AND FRANCE COME TO BLOWS.

The Baldwins returned to their home shortly after the departure of the discomfited officer, and listened with intense interest to Cabot's report of all that had taken place during their absence.

"So one but a Yankee would have thought of such a plan!" exclaimed White, "or had the cheek to carry it out. But it makes me feel as mean as dirt to have run away and left you to face the music alone."

"You needn't," replied Cabot, "for your absence was one of the most important things, and I couldn't possibly have carried out the programme if you had been there. Now, though, we've got to hustle, for I expect that navy chap will be back again to-morrow, and whatever we can accomplish between now and then will probably end the lobster-packing business so far as this factory is concerned."

That night the workers received a reinforcement, as unexpected as it was welcome, from the crew of the Yankee schooner, who, led by Captain Bland, came to assist their fellow countryman in his struggle against foreign oppression. With this timely and expert aid, the canning business was so rushed that by ten o'clock of the next morning, when the lookout again reported a launch to be approaching, every can was filled and the pack was completed. More than half of it had also been removed from the factory and stowed aboard the "Sea Bee," ready for delivery to the St. Johns purchaser.

"I wish he were here now," said White, "so that we might settle up our business with him before those chaps arrive."

"Well, he isn't," replied Cabot, "and we must protect the goods as best we can until he comes. In the meantime I think you'd better disappear and leave me to manage alone, the same as I did yesterday."

"No. I won't run away again. I'm going to stay and face the music."

"All right," agreed Cabot. "Perhaps it will be just as well, since the factory is closed sure enough this time. You must let me do all the talking, though, and perhaps in some way we'll manage to scare 'em off again."

"If we could have just one day more we'd be all right," said White, "but there they come. Only, I say! They are Frenchmen this time. See the flag."

Sure enough. Instead of flying the British Union Jack the launch that now appeared in the harbour displayed the tri-colour of the French Republic. Thus, when Cabot and White reached the wharf, they were just in time to greet their acquaintance of St. Pierre, the lieutenant of the French frigate "Isla," whom White had so neatly outwitted in that port. As he stepped ashore he was accompanied by a sharp-featured, black-browed individual, whom White recognised as M. Delom, proprietor of a French lobster factory located on another shore of the bay.

"That chap has come for pickings and stealings," he remarked in a low tone.

"Shouldn't wonder," returned Cabot, "for he looks like a thief."

"Ah, ha, Monsieur Baldwin! I haf catch you zis time, an' you cannot now gif me what you call ze sleep," cried the French lieutenant. "Also I am come to siz your property, for you may no more can ze lob of ze Francaise. Behol'! I have ze aut'orization."

So saying, the officer drew forth and unfolded with a flourish a paper that he read aloud. It was an order for the confiscation and removal of all property owned by a person, or persons, named Baldwin, and used by them contrary to law in canning lobsters on the French territory of Newfoundland, and it was signed: "Charmian, Capitan de Fregate."

"So, Monsieur Baldwin," continued the officer, when he had finished the reading, "you will gif to me ze key of your factory zat I may from it remof ze materiel. I sall also take your schooner for to convey it to ze factory of M. Delom. Is it plain, ma intention?"

"Your intention is only too plain," responded White. "You are come to aid that thief in stealing my property; but you are too late, for the factory no longer belongs to the Baldwin family."

"Ah! Is it so? Who zen belong to it?"

"This gentleman is the present owner," replied White, "and you must arrange your business with him."

"Who is he?" demanded the Frenchman, surveying Cabot contemptuously from head to foot. "But I do not care. Ze material mus all ze same be remof."

"I am an American citizen," interrupted Cabot, "and I forbid you to touch my property. If you do so I shall claim damages through the American government, and in the meantime I shall call on the British frigate now in this bay for protection."

"For ze Americains I do not care," cried the Frenchman, assuming a theatrical attitude. "For l'Anglais, pouf! I also care not. When it is my duty I do him. Ze material mus be remof. Allons, mes garcons."

A dozen French bluejackets, armed with cutlasses and pistols, had gathered behind their leader, and now these sprang forward with a shout, clearing a way through the collected throng of villagers. Advancing upon the main entrance to the factory, they quickly battered down its door and rushed inside. With them went swarthy-faced Delom, who gloated over the spoil that now seemed within his grasp, and which would make his own factory the best equipped on the coast, he was especially pleased to note the pack all boxed ready for shipment, and our lads saw him direct the officer's attention to it. As a result the latter gave an order, and in another minute a file of French bluejackets, each with a case of canned lobster on his shoulder, was marching towards the door.

Just as they reached it there came a shout and a tramp of heavy feet from the outside. Then a stern voice cried:

"Halt! What are you doing here, you French beggars? Drop those boxes and clear out."

As the Frenchmen halted irresolute, their officer, who could not see what was going on, but imagined that some of the villagers were blocking the entrance, shouted for them to march on and clear away the canaille who dared oppose them.

The French bluejackets attempted to obey, but, with their first forward movement, they were met by an inrush of sturdy British sailors, who sent them and their burdens crashing to the floor in every direction. Some of them as they regained their feet drew their cutlasses, while others fell upon the new-comers with their fists. A pistol shot rang out, and a British sailor pitched heavily forward. At the same instant both officers sprang into the melee, beating back their men with the flat of their swords, and fiercely ordering them to desist from further fighting.



So sharp had been the brief encounter between these hereditary enemies, that as they sullenly withdrew their clutch from each other's throats a British sailor remained on the floor striving to staunch the blood that spurted from a bullet wound in his leg, while near at hand lay a French bluejacket, as white and motionless as though dead. Another Frenchman had a broken arm, while several others on both sides looked askance at their enemies from blackened eyes and swollen faces.

"Sir!" cried the French lieutenant, the moment order was so far restored that he could make himself heard, "I am bidden by my commandant, ze Chevalier Charmian, capitan de frigate 'Isla,' to remof all material from zis building, and in his name I protest against zis mos outrage interference."

"Sir," answered the British officer, "I am ordered by my captain to destroy all property contained in this building, and not permit the removal of a single article."

"But I will not allow it destroyed!"

"And I will not allow it removed."

For a moment the two glared at each other in speechless rage. Then the Frenchman said:

"As humanity compels me to gif immediate attention to my men, wounded by ze unprovoked assault of your barbarians, I sall at once carry zem to my sheep, where I sail immediately also report zis outrage to my commandant."

"Same here," replied the Englishman, laconically, and with this both officers ordered their men to fall back to the launches, carrying with them their wounded comrades.

During the progress of this thrilling episode our two lads had watched it in breathless excitement without once thinking of leaving the building, though a back door opened close at hand. So intent were they upon what was taking place that they did not notice the approach of a third person until he was close beside them and had addressed White by name. He was the St. Johns travelling man, who had engaged the Baldwin pack for his firm, and now he said in low, hurried tones:

"You fellows want to skip out of this while you can, for that British officer has got orders to arrest you both and carry you to St. Johns for trial. Charges—contempt of court and carrying on an illegal business. Awfully sorry I can't take your goods, but order has been issued that any one handling them will also be arrested and subject to heavy fine. Hurry up. They are making a move, and he'll be looking for you directly. Don't let on that I gave you the tip."

With this the man moved away, and without exchanging a word our lads slipped out of the nearby door.

So fully was the British officer occupied in getting his men back to their launch without making another attack upon their hated rivals, that not until all were safely on board did he remember that he had been charged to bring off two prisoners. Now he was in a quandary. Those whom he desired were nowhere to be seen, and he dared not leave his men, whose fighting blood was still at fever heat, long enough to go in search of them. Also the French launch was about to depart, and it would never do for the captain of the "Isla" to be informed of the recent unfortunate encounter in advance of his own commander. So, with a last futile look ashore, he reluctantly gave the order to shove off, and side by side, their crews screaming taunts at each other, the two launches raced out of the harbour.

As Cabot and White watched them from a place of snug concealment, the latter heaved a sigh of relief, saying:

"Well, I'm mighty glad they're gone, and haven't got us with them; but I do wish that fight could have lasted a few minutes longer."

"Wasn't it lovely!" retorted Cabot, "and isn't the lobster industry on this coast just about the most exciting business in the world!"



CHAPTER XIII.

A PRISONER OF WAR.

With the disappearance of the launches our lads realised that it was time to make new plans for immediate action. So, as they walked slowly back towards the village, they earnestly discussed the situation.

"It is too bad that I have drawn you into such a scrape," said White, "and the very first thing for me to do is to make an effort to get you out of it. So, if you like, I will drive you over to the station this afternoon, where you can take the morning train for St. Johns."

"No," replied Cabot, "that wouldn't do at all. In the first place, you didn't draw me into the scrape. I went into it with my eyes open, and am quite ready to stand by what I have done. In fact I rather enjoy it than otherwise. At the same time I do not propose to be arrested if I can help it, and for that reason do not care to visit St. Johns at present. Even at the railway station we should be very likely to meet and be recognised by some of our recent unpleasant naval acquaintances. Besides, I am going to see this thing through, and shall stand by you just as long as I can be of any service, for I hope you don't think so meanly of me as to imagine that I would desert in the time of his trouble the fellow who saved my life."

"I never for one moment thought meanly of you," declared White, "and I know that in rescuing you from that raft I also gained for myself one of the best friends I ever had. For that very reason, though, I don't want to abuse your friendship."

"All right," laughed Cabot. "Whenever I feel abused I'll let you know. And now, it being settled that we are to fight this thing out together, what do you propose to do with the pack we have worked so hard to make?"

"I don't know," replied White, despondently; "but, as it is legally your property, I think you ought to decide what is to be done with it."

"Nonsense!" retorted Cabot. "It no more really belongs to me than it does to that black-faced Frenchman. At the same time I'd fight rather than let him have it."

"I'd toss every case into the sea first," cried White, "and everything the factory contains besides."

"'Same here,' as the Englishman said; but I guess we can do better than that. Why not accept Captain Bland's offer, and trade it to him for groceries?"

"I thought you were opposed to receiving smuggled goods?"

"So I am on general principles," admitted Cabot, "but circumstances alter cases. I consider the highway robbery that two of the most powerful nations of the world are attempting right here a circumstance strong enough to alter any case. So I would advise you to accept the only offer now remaining open. You will at least get enough groceries to keep your family supplied for a year."

"I should say so, and for two years more, provided the goods didn't spoil."

"Then you might sell what you couldn't use."

"Where?" asked White. "Not in Newfoundland, for they would be seized as contraband in any part of the island. Besides, you seem to forget that as both of us are liable to arrest, we are hardly in a position to go into the grocery business just at present."

"That's so. Well, then, why not carry them somewhere else in the 'Sea Bee'? To Canada, or—I have it! You said something once about making a trading trip to Labrador, and now is the very opportunity. Why shouldn't we take the goods to Labrador? I don't believe we'd be arrested in that country, even for smuggling, and they must need a lot of provisions up there. It's the very thing, and the sooner we can arrange to be off the better."

"But you don't want to go to Labrador," protested White.

"Don't I? There's where you make a big mistake; for I do want to go to Labrador more than to any other place I know of. Also I would rather go there with you in the 'Sea Bee' than in any other company, or by any other conveyance. So there you are, and if you don't invite me to start for Labrador before that brass-bound navy chap has a chance to arrest me, I shall consider myself a victim of misplaced confidence."

"I do believe you have hit upon the very best way out of our troubles," said White, thoughtfully. "If I could arrange to leave mother, and if the Yankee captain would make a part payment in cash, so that she and Cola could get along until my return, I believe I would go."

"You can leave your mother and sister now as well as when you went to St. Johns, and better, for I am sure David Gidge would look out for them during the month or so that we'll be away."

"But David would have to go along to help work the schooner."

"I don't see why. You and I could manage without him, and so save his wages, or his share of the voyage, which would amount to the same thing. If one man can sail a 30-foot boat around the world alone, as Captain Slocum did, two of us certainly ought to be able to take a 50-foot schooner up to Labrador and back. Any way I'm game to try it, if you are, and I'd a heap rather risk it than stay here to be arrested. There is Captain Bland now. Let's go and talk with him."

The Yankee skipper stood near the shattered door of the factory in company with a number of villagers, all of whom seemed greatly interested in something going on inside. As our lads drew near these made way for them, and Captain Bland said:

"'Pears like the new owner is making himself perfectly at home."

Inside the factory the Frenchman Delom, who had remained behind to make good his claim to the confiscated property of his rival, was too busily at work to pay any attention to the disparaging remarks and muttered threats of those whom he had forbidden to enter. He had collected all the tools and lighter machinery into a pile ready for removal, and was now marking with his own stencil such of the filled cases as remained on the lower floor.

So dreaded was the power of France on that English coast that up to that moment no one had dared interfere with him, but Cabot Grant was not troubled by a fear of France or any other nation, and, as he realised what was going on, he sprang into the building. The next instant our young football player had that Frenchman by the collar and was rushing him towards the doorway. From it he projected him so violently that the man measured his length on the ground a full rod beyond it.

Livid with rage at this assault, the Frenchman scrambled to his feet, whipped out an ugly-looking knife, and started towards Cabot with murderous intent.



"No you don't," shouted Captain Bland, and in another moment Monsieur Delom's arms were pinioned behind him, while he struggled helplessly in the iron grasp of the Yankee skipper.

"I think we'd better tie him," remarked the latter quietly. "'Tain't safe to let a varmint like this loose on any community."

White produced a rope and was stepping forward with it, but Cabot took it from him, saying: "For the sake of your family you mustn't have anything to do with this affair." So he and Captain Bland bound the Frenchman hand and foot, took away his knife, and carried him for present safe keeping to a small, dark building that was used for the storage of fish oil. Here they locked him in, and left him to meditate at leisure on the fate of those who have done to them, what they would do to others if they could.

"Well," said Captain Bland, at the conclusion of this incident, "you young fellers always seem to have something interesting on hand; what are you going to do next? Are you going to skin out, or wait for the return of the French and English fleets? I'd like to know, 'cause I want to be getting a move on; but if there's going to be any more fun I expect I'll have to wait and take it in."

"I expect our next move depends very largely on you, captain," replied White. "Are you still willing to trade your cargo for our pack?"

"I might be, and then again I mightn't," answered the Yankee, as he meditatively chewed a blade of grass. "You see, the risk of the thing has been so increased during the past two days that I couldn't make nigh so good an offer now as I could at first. Also, here's so many claiming the pack of this factory that I'm in considerable doubt as to who is the rightful owner. First there's the Baldwin interest and the American interest, represented by you two chaps. Then there's the St. Johns interest, represented by that travelling man; the British interest, which is a mighty powerful one, seeing that it is supported by the English navy; the French government interest, which is likewise backed up by a fleet of warships, and the French factory interest, represented by our friend in limbo, who, though he isn't saying much just now, seems to have a pretty strong political pull. So, on the whole, the ownership appears to be muddled, and the pack itself subject to a good many conflicting claims. I expect also that the factory workmen and the lobster catchers have some sort of a lien on it for services rendered."

"Look here, Captain Bland," said Cabot, "we understand perfectly that all you have just said is trade talk, made to depreciate the value of our goods, and you know as well as I do that they have but one rightful owner."

"Who is that?" asked the skipper with an air of interest.

"Mrs. William Baldwin."

"But I thought she deeded the property to you."

"So she did; but as I am not yet of age that deed is worth no more than the paper on which it is written."

"You don't mean it. What a whopping big bluff it was then!" cried Captain Bland, admiringly. "Beats any I ever heard of, and I'm proud to know 'twas a Yankee that worked it. What you say does alter the situation considerable, and I'd like to have Miss Baldwin's own views on the subject of a trade."

In accordance with this wish an adjournment was made to the house, where Mrs. Baldwin assured the Yankee skipper of her willingness to abide by any agreement made with him by her son and Mr. Grant.

"Which so simplifies matters, ma'am," replied the captain, "that I think we may consider a trade as already effected, and make bold to say that this season's pack of the Pretty Harbour lobster factory will be sold somewhere's else besides Newfoundland."



CHAPTER XIV.

THE "SEA BEE" UNDER FIRE.

The arrangement made with the Yankee skipper was satisfactory, save in one respect. He was willing to trade provisions for canned lobsters to the extent of taking the entire pack, and he also offered to remove the machinery outfit of the factory on the chance of finding a purchaser for it in the States, but he refused to make any cash advance on the goods.

"I'm willing," he said, "to risk considerable for the sake of being accommodating, and with the hope of making a little something, but I can't afford to risk cold cash."

"I don't see how we can make a trade, then," remarked White, as he and Cabot discussed the situation. "It will take every penny I've got to pay off the hands, and though I believe we could make a good thing out of a Labrador trip, I can't leave mother and Cola without a cent while I'm away. If he would only let me have fifty dollars——"

"He won't, though," interrupted Cabot, "but I will. I have got just that amount of money with me, and, as I shan't have any use for it in Labrador, I should be more than pleased to leave it here for safe keeping."

White at first refused to take his friend's money; but on Cabot's declaring that he had plenty more on deposit in St. Johns, he gratefully accepted the loan, which he promised to repay from the very first sale of goods they should make.

Everything being thus arranged, preparations for departure were pushed with all speed. Such of the pack as remained in the factory was hurried aboard the "Ruth" by a score of willing workers, who also transferred to her every tool and bit of machinery, including the big kettles. Then she and the "Sea Bee," the latter manned by two of the Yankee sailors, with David Gidge as pilot, sailed from the harbour, and were lost to sight beyond its protecting headland.

The next hour was spent in settling with the lobster catchers and those who had been employed in the factory, each of whom was warned to give no information concerning the movements of the two schooners. This was barely finished when the boy who had been posted outside immediately after the departure of the naval launches came hurrying in with news that both of them were returning.

"My!" cried Cabot, "but I'd like to see the fun when they get here."

"I am afraid you'd see more than enough of it," replied White, "for they'll be keen on getting us this time. So we'd best be starting. Hold on a minute, though; I want to leave proof behind that we haven't gone off with either of the schooners."

With this he ran down to the oil house, in which their well-nigh forgotten prisoner was still confined. Flinging open the door, he said, in a tone of well-feigned regret:

"It is too bad, Monsieur Delom, that you should have been kept so long in this wretched place, but I dared not attempt your release while those terrible Yankees were here. Now, however, they are gone and you are once more free. Also, as I realise that I can no longer maintain my factory here, you are at liberty to make what use you please of its contents. Accept my congratulations on your good fortune, monsieur. As for me, I must now leave you to prepare for my journey to St. Johns."

With this White bade the bewildered Frenchman a mocking adieu, and left him still blinking at the sunlight from which he had been so long secluded.

A few minutes later the Baldwin house again stood, closed and tenantless, while a cart driven by Cola, and accompanied by the two young men on foot, climbed the hill back of the village by a road leading to the nearest railway station. Monsieur Delom witnessed this departure, as did many others, but no one saw the cart leave the highway a little later and turn into a dim trail leading through an otherwise pathless forest. After a time it emerged from this on another road and came to a farmhouse to which Mrs. Baldwin had previously been taken. Here mother and son bade each other farewell, while the former also prayed for a blessing upon the stranger who had so befriended them, and whose fortunes had become so curiously linked with theirs. Then the cart with Cola still acting as driver rattled away, and was quickly lost to sight.

It lacked but an hour of sunset when our refugees reached a pocket on the outer coast, in which the two schooners lay snugly, side by side, nearly filling the tiny harbour. On the beach David Gidge already waited, and, as the lads transferred their few effects to the boat that had brought him ashore, he climbed stiffly into the cart which Cola was to guide back over the way it had just come.

"Good-bye, Cola," said Cabot, as he held for a moment the hand of the girl he had come to regard almost as a sister. "Try and have a lot of specimens ready for me when we come back."

"Good-bye, sister!" cried White. "Take care of mother, and don't let her worry about us. We'll be back almost before you have time to miss us. Good-bye, David! I trust you to look out for them because you have promised."

"Oh! how I wish I were a boy and going with you," exclaimed Cola. "It is so stupid to be left behind with nothing to do but just wait. Do please hurry back."

"All right," replied her brother. "With good luck we'll sail into Pretty Harbour inside of a month, and perhaps with money enough to take us all to the States."

"Oh, wouldn't that be splendid! Do get started, for the sooner you are off the quicker you'll come back," cried the girl.

"That's so. Come on, Cabot," and in another minute the boat had shot out from the beach, while the cart was slowly climbing the rugged trail that led inland.

On reaching the schooners our lads found Captain Bland impatiently awaiting them, since the transfer of goods was nearly completed, and he was anxious to get his compromising cargo away from the coast patrolled by those meddlesome frigates.

"Let me once get beyond the three-mile limit," he said, "and I wouldn't mind meeting a fleet of 'em; if either one of 'em caught me in here, though, I'd not only stand to lose cargo, but schooner as well. So I reckon we'd best get a move on at once, and talk business while we tow out."

As our lads wore equally desirous of gaining a safe distance from the authorities they had so openly defied, they readily agreed to Captain Bland's proposal, and four dories, each manned by a couple of stalwart Yankee fishermen, were ordered to tow the schooners from their snug hiding place. While this was going on, and White was busily engaged on the deck of the "Sea Bee," Cabot and Captain Bland were examining invoices and price lists in her cabin.

"Here's a list of all I've put aboard," said the latter, "and you'll see I've only made a small freight charge over and above the cost price in Boston. Same time I've allowed for your pack the full market price on canned lobsters according to latest St. Johns quotations, and you ought not to sell a single barrel at less 'n one hundred per cent. clear profit. As for the kettles and tools, here's an order on my owners in Gloucester for them, or what they'll fetch less a freight charge, provided I get 'em there all right; but I want both you and young Baldwin to sign this release that frees me from all claims for loss of property in case anything happens to 'em."

"I am perfectly willing to sign it," replied Cabot, "because I have no ownership in the property, but I shouldn't think Baldwin would care to give such a release."

"I guess he will, though," said the skipper.

And he was right, for White readily consented to sign the paper, saying that the property would have been lost anyhow if it had been left behind. "I have also full faith that Captain Bland will do the right thing about it," he added, "for, while I have always found you Yankees sharp as knives in a trade, I have yet to meet one whom I wouldn't trust."

"Thank you, Mr. Baldwin," said the skipper, "and I shall try my best not to be the first to abuse your confidence."

So the paper was signed, and White had barely laid down his pen when the occupants of the cabin were startled by a loud cry from above, followed almost immediately by a distant shot. Hurrying on deck they found that the schooner had reached open water and was beginning to feel the influence of an offshore breeze. At the same time the man whom White had left at the tiller was pointing up the coast, where they caught sight of a steam launch that had just cleared South Head.

"He fired a shot at us," announced the steersman.

"That's all right 'long's he didn't hit us," replied Captain Bland. "It is our French friend, and he only took that way of hinting that he wished us to wait for him. I don't think we can afford the time just now, though—leastways, I can't. Hello there in boats! Drop your tow lines and come alongside."

"Do you think there is any chance of our getting away from him?" asked Cabot.

"Dunno. Mebbe, if the breeze freshens, as I believe it will. Anyhow, I'm going to give him a race for his money. Good-bye! Good luck, and I hope we'll meet again before long."

So saying Captain Bland, taking the steersman with him, stepped into a dory that had come alongside and was rowed towards his own schooner. He had hardly gained her deck before she set main and jib topsails and a big main staysail. Our lads also sprang to their own sails, and spread to the freshening breeze every stitch of canvas that the "Sea Bee" possessed. When they next found time to look at the "Ruth," White uttered an exclamation of astonishment, for she had already gained a good half mile on them and was moving with the speed of a steam yacht.

"There's no chance of the Yankee being caught," he said enviously, "but there's a mighty big one that we will."

Although the "Sea Bee" was holding a course in the wake of the "Ruth," and was heeled handsomely over before the same freshening breeze, she was not doing so well by a half, and it was evident that in a long run the launch must overtake her.

"She is certainly gaining on us," said Cabot, after a long look, and he had hardly spoken before a second shot from the launch plumped a ball into the water abreast of the little schooner and not two rods away.

White, who was at the tiller, glanced nervously backward. "Do you want to heave to and let them overhaul us?" he asked.

"Certainly not," replied Cabot promptly. "They have no right to meddle with us out here, and I would keep straight on without paying the slightest attention to them until they either sink us or get alongside."

"All right," laughed the other. "I only wanted to make sure how you felt. Some fellows, you know, don't like to have cannon balls fired at them."



CHAPTER XV.

OFF FOR LABRADOR.

Slowly but surely the launch gained on the flying schooner, until, as the sun was sinking behind its western horizon of water, she fired a shot that passed through the "Sea Bee's" mainsail and fell a hundred yards beyond her.

"Wh-e-e-w!" exclaimed White, as he glanced up at the clean-cut hole. "That's rather too close for comfort, and I shouldn't be surprised if the next one made splinters fly. However, it will soon be dark, and then, if we are not disabled, we may be able to give them the slip."

"I don't believe there's going to be another shot," cried Cabot, who was gazing eagerly astern. "No—yes—hurrah! They are turning back. They have given it up, old man, and we are safe. Bully for us! I wonder what possesses them to do such a thing, though, when they had so nearly caught us?"

"Can't imagine," replied White, who was also staring at the launch, which certainly had circled back and was making towards the place whence she had come. "They are afraid to be caught out at sea after dark perhaps. I always understood that Frenchmen made mighty poor sailors. Lucky thing for us she wasn't a British launch, for they'd have kept on around the world but what they'd had us."

In justice to the Frenchmen it should be said that their reason for turning back, which our lads did not learn until long afterwards, was the imminent exhaustion of their coal supply, which, not calculated for a long cruise, would barely serve to carry them back to the Bay of Islands.

By the time the launch was lost to sight in the growing dusk the "Ruth" had also disappeared. She was headed southward when last seen, and now White said it was time that they, too, were turning towards their ultimate destination. So, topsails and mainstaysail were taken in, and the helm was put down until fore and mainsails jibed over. Then sheets were trimmed until the little schooner, with lee rail awash, was running something east of north, on an easy bowline, carrying a bone in her teeth and leaving a bubbling wake trailing far astern. With everything thus satisfactorily in shape, White lighted the binnacle lamp, and giving Cabot a course to steer, went below to prepare the first meal of their long cruise. "You must keep a sharp lookout," he said as he disappeared down the companionway, "for I don't dare show any lights. So if we are run into we'll have only ourselves to blame."

Left thus to his own devices, Cabot realised for the first time the responsibility of his position and began to reflect seriously upon what he had done. Until this time one disturbing event had followed another so rapidly that he had been borne along almost without a thought of what he was doing or of the consequences. As a result, instead of carrying out the purpose for which he had been sent to Newfoundland, and studying its mineral resources, he now found himself forced into flight for having defied the authorities of the island, embarked upon a doubtful trading venture into one of the wildest and least known portions of the continent, and, with but a slight knowledge of seamanship, engaged in navigating a small sailing vessel across one of its stormiest seas. What would his guardian and employer say could he know all this and see him at the present moment?

"I wish he could, though," exclaimed Cabot half aloud, "for it would be fun to watch his look of amazement and hear his remarks. I suppose he is wondering what has become of that Bell Island report I was to send in the first thing, and I guess he'll have to wonder for some time longer, as St. Johns is about the last place I feel like visiting just at present. I certainly have made a mess of my affairs, though, so far, and it looks as if I had only just begun, too. At the same time I don't see how I could have acted differently. I tried hard enough to reach St. Johns, and would have got there all right if it hadn't been for this factory business. But when the fellow who saved my life got into trouble, from which I could help him out, I'm sure even Mr. Hepburn would say I was bound to do it. Besides, I have found one promising outcrop of copper, and now I'm off for Labrador; so perhaps things will turn out all right after all. Anyway I'm learning how to sail a boat, and that is something every fellow ought to know. I wish it wasn't so awfully dark though, and that White would hurry up with that supper, for I am powerful hungry. How good it smells, and what a fine chap he is. Falling in with him was certainly a great bit of luck. But how this confounded compass wabbles, and how the schooner jumps off her course if I lift my eyes from it for a single instant. I don't see why she can't go straight if I hold the tiller perfectly still. There's a star dead ahead, and I guess I'll steer by it. Then I can keep the sharp lookout White spoke of at the same time."

Thus deciding, the anxious helmsman fixed his gaze upon the newly risen star that he had just discovered, and wondered admiringly at its rapid increase in brilliancy. After a little he rubbed his eyes and looked again at two more stars that had suddenly appeared above the horizon directly below the first one.

"Never saw red and green stars before," Cabot muttered. "Must be peculiar to this high latitude. Wonder if they can be stars, though? Oh! what a chump I am. White! I say, White, come up here quick!"

In obedience to this summons the young skipper thrust his head from the companionway.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Don't know exactly," replied Cabot, "but there is a lighthouse or a dock or something right in front of us."

"Steamer!" cried White as he sprang on deck and glanced ahead. "Keep her away, quick. I don't want them to sight us."

"Steamer," repeated Cabot as he obeyed this order and let the schooner fall off to leeward. "I never thought of such a thing as a steamer away up here. Do you mean that she is a frigate?"

"No," laughed White. "There are other steamers besides frigates even in these waters, and that is one of them. She is the 'Harlaw,' from Flower Cove, near the northern end of the island, and bound for Halifax. It's mighty lucky she didn't pass us by daylight."

"Why?"

"Because she is already heading in for the Bay of Islands and would have reported us as soon as she got there. Then we would have had a frigate after us sure enough."

"But how do you know she's a steamer? Mightn't she be a sailing vessel!"

"Not with that white light at her foremast head. Sailing vessels aren't allowed to show any above their side lights. Now go below and eat your supper while I take her."

This eating alone was such an unpleasant feature of the cruise that, as Cabot sat down to his solitary meal, he regretted having persuaded White to leave David Gidge behind.

"I am afraid this going to sea shorthanded will prove a false economy after all," he said to himself, thereby reaching a conclusion that has been forced upon seafaring men since ships first sailed the ocean.

Finishing his supper as quickly as possible, Cabot rejoined his companion, and begged him also to hurry that they might bear each other company on deck.

"All right," agreed White, "only, of course, I shall be longer than you were, for I have to wash and put away the dishes."

"Oh, bother the dishes!" exclaimed Cabot "Let them go till morning."

"Not much. We haven't any too many dishes as it is, nor a chance of getting any more, and if I should leave them where they are we probably wouldn't have any by morning. Besides, it wouldn't be tidy, and an untidy ship is worse than an untidy house, because you can't get away from it. But I won't be long."

True to his promise, White, bringing with him a heavy oilskin coat and an armful of blankets, speedily rejoined his comrade, who was by this time shivering in the chill night air.

"Put this on," said the young skipper, tendering Cabot the oilskin, "and then I am going to ask you to stand first watch. I will roll up in these blankets and sleep here on deck, so that you can get me up at a moment's notice. You want to wake me at midnight, anyhow, when I will take the morning watch."

"Very well," agreed Cabot resignedly. "I suppose you know what is best to be done, but it seems to me that we are arranging for a very lonesome cruise on regular Box and Cox lines."

As White had no knowledge of Box and Cox he did not reply to this grumble, but, rolling up in his blankets until he resembled a huge cocoon, almost instantly dropped asleep.

During the next four hours Cabot, shivering with cold and aching with weariness, but never once allowing his tired eyes to close, remained at his post. Through the black night, and over the still darker waters, he guided the flying schooner according to the advice of the unstable compass card that formed the only spot of light within his whole range of vision. At the same time, knowing how little of skill he possessed in this new line of business, and not yet having a sailor's confidence in the craft that bore him, he was filled with such a fear of the night, the wind, the leaping waters, and a thousand imaginary dangers that his hardest struggle was against an ever-present impulse to arouse his sleeping comrade. But he would not yield, and finally had the satisfaction of coming unaided to the end of his watch.

"Midnight, and all hands on deck," he shouted, and White, springing up, asked:

"What's happened? Anything gone wrong?"

"Nothing yet," replied Cabot, "but something will happen if you leave me at this wretched tiller a minute longer."

"I won't," laughed the other. "It will only take me half a minute to get an eye-opener in shape of a cup of cold tea, and then you can turn in."

When Cabot was at length free to seek his bunk he turned in all standing, only kicking off his boots. The very next thing of which he was conscious was being shaken and told that breakfast was ready.

It was broad daylight; the sun was shining; the breeze had so moderated that White had been able to leave the schooner to herself with a lashed helm while he prepared breakfast, and as Cabot tumbled out he wondered if he had really been anxious and fearful a few hours earlier.

All that day and through the following night our lads kept watch and watch while the "Sea Bee" travelled up the coast. Early on the second morning they passed Flower Cove, and from this point White headed directly across the Strait of Belle Isle, which, here, is but a dozen miles in width. Then, as Newfoundland grew dim behind them, a new coast backed by a range of lofty hills came into view ahead; and, in answer to Cabot's eager question, White said:

"Yes, that is Labrador, and those are the Bradore Hills back of Forteau."



CHAPTER XVI.

MOSQUITOES OF THE FAR NORTH.

While Cabot gazed eagerly at the lofty but still distant coast towards which all their hopes were now directed, his companion was casting anxious glances to the eastward, where a low hanging bank of cloud betokened an advancing fog. He had good reason to be apprehensive, for this northern entrance to the gulf of St. Lawrence forms the shortest route for steamers plying between Canadian and European ports. Consequently many of them use it during the brief summer season when it is free from ice. At the same time it is a stormy stretch of water, tormented by powerful currents, and generally shrouded in fog.

Early in the season countless icebergs, borne southward by the Arctic current that hugs the Labrador coast, drift aimlessly over its troubled surface, and even at midsummer it is a passage to be dreaded. White, being familiar with its many dangers, had good cause for anxiety, as he saw one of them about to enfold his little craft. He consulted the compass, took his bearings with the utmost care, and then as Cabot, finding his view obscured, turned to him with a look of inquiry, remarked:

"Yes, we are in for it, and you'd better keep a sharp lookout for steamers. It wouldn't be very pleasant to run one down and sink it, you know."

"I should say not," responded Cabot as he started for the bow of the schooner, where, steadying himself by a stay, he peered into the thickening mist curtain. For half an hour or so he saw nothing, though during that time the hoarse bellowing of a steam whistle, approaching closely and then receding, told of a passing ship. While the lookout was still listening to this a black form, magnified to gigantic size by his apprehensions and the opaqueness through which he saw it, loomed up directly ahead and apparently not a rod away. With a sharp cry of warning the lad sprang aft, while a yell of dismay came from the stranger. The next moment, both vessels having been headed sharply into the wind, lay side by side, heaving and grinding against each other, with their sails slatting noisily overhead.

As our lads realised the true character of the other craft, they were ready to laugh at their fright of a minute earlier, for she was only an open fishing boat, carrying three men, a woman, and a couple of children.

"We took ye for a steamer, first sight," remarked one of the men.

"And we did the same by you," laughed White. "Who are you and where are you bound?"

"Mail boat from L'Anse Au Loup for Flower Cove," replied the man, "and as we're not sure of our compass we'd be obleeged if you'd give us a bearing."

"With pleasure. Come aboard and take it for yourself. If you'll wait just a minute I'll have a letter ready for you."

So saying the young skipper dived below and hastily pencilled a line to his mother, telling of their safety up to that time.

While he was thus engaged Cabot learned that owing to the recent arrival of a steamer from St. Johns provisions were plentiful on that part of the Labrador coast, but were believed to be scarce further north.

As a result of this information the "Sea Bee" was headed more to the eastward after the boats had again parted company, for, as White said, there was no use wasting time running in to Blanc Sablon, Forteau, or any of those places at which the trading steamer had touched. "It is too bad," he continued, "for I did hope to dispose of our cargo somewhere along here. If we could do that we might be home again inside of ten days. Now, if we have to go far to the northward, it may be two or three weeks longer before we again sight Blomidon."

"I am sorry for your sake," replied Cabot, "though I would just as soon spend a month up here as not. I only wish we could land somewhere along here, for I am curious to see what land of a country Labrador is."

This wish was gratified late that afternoon, when the fog lifted in time to disclose the fine harbour of Red Bay, into which, White said, they would run, so as to spend the night quietly at anchor, with both watches turned in at once.

At Red Bay, therefore, Cabot had his first taste of life in Labrador. The shores looked so green and attractive that he wondered why the only settlement in sight—a collection of a dozen huts and fish houses, should be located on a rocky islet, bare and verdureless. He asked White, who only laughed, and said he'd find out soon enough by experience.

After they had come to anchor and lowered the sails, White got an empty water cask into the dinghy, saying that first of all they must go about a mile to a trout stream at the head of the bay for some fresh water.

"Trout stream!" cited Cabot. "How I wish I had my fishing tackle. Trout for supper would be fine."

"There are other things equally important with tackle for trout fishing in this country," remarked White.

"What, for instance?"

"You'll know inside of half an hour," was the significant reply.

So they rowed up the bay, Cabot filled with curiosity and White chuckling with anticipation. The further they went the more was Cabot charmed with the beauty of the scene and the more desirous did he become to ramble over the green slopes on which, as White assured him, delicious berries of several varieties were plentiful. At length they opened a charming valley, through which wound and tumbled a sparkling brook thickly bordered by alders and birches. At one side were several substantial log cabins, but as they were evidently uninhabited Cabot began to undress, declaring that he must have a bath in that tempting water.

"Better keep your shirt on until we have filled the cask," advised White, at the same time stepping overboard in the shallows at the mouth of the stream without removing any of his clothing. They pulled the boat up until it grounded, and then White began hurriedly to fill the water barrel, while Cabot waded a short distance up stream to see if he could discover any trout. All at once he stopped, looked bewildered, and then started back on a run. At the same time he slapped vigorously at his bare legs, brushed his face, waved his arms, and uttered exclamations of frantic dismay. The air about him had been suddenly blackened by an incredible swarm of insects that issued in dense clouds from the low growth bordering the stream, and attacked the unfortunate youth with the fury of starvation.

"What's the matter?" inquired White innocently, as his companion rushed past him towards the open.

"Matter!" retorted the other. "I'm on fire with the bites of these infernal things, and we want to get out of here in a hurry or they'll sting us to death."

"Oh, pshaw!" laughed White, though he also was suffering greatly. "You've only struck a few ordinary Labrador mosquitoes and black flies."

"Mosquitoes and black flies!" cried Cabot. "Hornets and red-hot coals, you'd better say. How can you stand them? Your skin must be thicker than sole leather."

"I can't very well," admitted White, "but this cask has got to be filled, and the sooner we do it the quicker we can get away. Break off a couple of leafy branches to fight with and then keep 'em off both of us as well as you can. It will only take a few minutes longer."

In spite of their efforts at self-defence, faces, hands, and Cabot's bare legs were covered with blood before their task was completed, and they were once more in the boat pulling furiously for the wind-swept water of the open bay.

"I never expected to find mosquitoes this far north," said Cabot, as the pests began to disappear before the freshening breeze and the rowers paused for breath.

"Strangers are apt to be unpleasantly surprised by them," replied White, "but they are here all the same, and they extend as far north as any white man has ever been. I have been told that they are as bad in Greenland as here, and I expect they flourish at the North Pole itself. They certainly are the curse of Labrador, and until ice makes in the fall they effectually prevent all travel into the interior. Even the Indians have to come to the coast in summer to escape them, while the whites who visit this country for the fishing make their settlements on the barest and most wind-swept places. The few who live here the year round have summer homes on the coast, but build their winter houses inland, at the heads of bays or the mouths of rivers, where there is timber to afford some protection from the cold. Those are winter houses back there."

"I wondered why they were abandoned," said Cabot, "but I don't any longer."

"By the way," suggested White, "you forgot to try the trout fishing. Shall we go back?"

"I wouldn't go fishing on that stream if every trout in it was of solid gold and I could scoop them out with my hands," asserted Cabot. "In fact, I don't know of anything short of starvation, or dying of thirst, that would take me back there."

After supper our lads went ashore at the island settlement, and were hospitably received by the dwellers in its half-dozen stoutly built, earthen-roofed houses. These were constructed of logs, set on end like palisades, and while they were scantily furnished, they were warm and comfortable. In them Cabot, who was regarded with great curiosity on account of having come from the far foreign city of New York, asked many questions, and acquired much information concerning the strange country to which Fate had brought him. Thus he learned that Labrador is a province of Newfoundland, and that while its prolific fisheries attract some 20,000 people to its bleak shores every summer, its entire resident white population hardly exceeds one thousand souls. He was told that from June to October news of the outside world is received by steamer from St. Johns every two or three weeks, but that during the other eight months of the year only three mails reach the country, coming by dog sledge from far-away Quebec.

While Cabot was gathering these and many other interesting bits of information, White was becoming confirmed in his belief that to make a successful trading trip he must carry his goods far to the northward.

So at daybreak of the following morning the "Sea Bee" was once more got under way, and ran up the rock-bound coast past Chateau Bay, with its superb Castle Rock, to Battle Harbour, the metropolis of Labrador, which place was reached late the same evening.

At this point, which is at the eastern end of the Belle Isle Strait, is a resident population of some two hundred souls, a hospital, a church, a schoolhouse, and a prosperous mercantile establishment. Here our lads found a large steamer loading with dried fish for Gibraltar, and here Cabot became greatly interested in the rose-tinted quartz that forms so striking a feature of Labrador scenery.

At Battle Harbour they were still advised to push farther on, and so, bidding farewell to this outpost of civilisation, the "Sea Bee" again spread her dusky wings and set forth for the mission stations of the far North, where it was hoped a profitable market might be found.



CHAPTER XVII.

IMPRISONED BY AN ICEBERG.

The brief northern summer was nearly ended. Its days were growing short and chill, its nights long and cold. The month of October was well advanced, and flurries of snow heralded the approach of winter. Most of the Labrador fishing fleet had already sailed away, and the few boats still left were preparing for a speedy departure. The last steamer of the season had come and gone, and the few permanent residents of the country were moving back from the coast into winter quarters. Great flocks of geese streamed southward, and with harsh cries gave warning of the icy terrors that had driven them from their Arctic nesting places. Night after night the wonderful beauties of the aurora borealis were flashed across the northern heavens with ever increasing brilliancy. Every one predicted a hard winter, and everything pointed to its early coming.

Nearly two months had elapsed since the little schooner "Sea Bee," manned by a couple of plucky lads, sailed out of Battle Harbour on a trading venture to the northern missions, and from that day no tidings had been received concerning her. The few who remembered her, occasionally speculated as to what success she had met and why she had not put in ah appearance on her return voyage, but generally dismissed the subject by saying that she must have been in too great a hurry to get south, as any one having a chance to leave that forsaken country naturally would be. But the "Sea Bee" had not gone to the southward, nor was there any likelihood of her doing so for many long months to come.

On one of the mildest of these October days, when the sunshine still held a trace of its summer warmth, a solitary figure stood on the crest of a bald headland, some hundreds of miles to the north of Battle Harbour, gazing wistfully out over the lead-coloured waters that came leaping and snarling towards the red rocks far beneath him. He had on great sea boots that stood sadly in need of mending, and was clad in heavy woollens, faded and worn, that showed many a rent and patch. As he leaned on the stout staff that had assisted him in climbing, his figure seemed bent as though by age, but when he lifted his, face, tanned brown by long exposure, the downy moustache on his upper lip proclaimed his youth. Altogether the change in his appearance was so great that his most intimate friend would hardly have recognised in him the youth who had been called the best dressed man in the T. I. class of '99 a few months earlier. But the voice with which he finally broke the silence of his long reverie was unmistakably that of Cabot Grant.



"Heigh ho!" he sighed, as he cast a sweeping glance over the widespread waste of waters on which nothing floated save a few belated icebergs, and then inland over weary miles of desolate upland barrens, treeless, moss-covered, and painfully rugged. "It is tough luck to be shut up here like birds in a cage, with no chance of the door being opened before next summer. It is tougher on Baldwin, though, than on me, and if he can stand it I guess I can. But I suppose I might as well be getting back or he will be worrying about me."

Thus saying, Cabot picked up a canvas bag that lay at his feet and moved slowly away.

A very serious misfortune had befallen our lads, and for more than a month the "Sea Bee," though still afloat and as sound as ever, had been unable to move from the position she now occupied. After leaving Battle Harbour her voyage to the northward had not been more than ordinarily eventful, though subject to many and irritating delays. Not only had there been adverse winds, but she had twice been stormbound for days in harbours to which she had run for shelter. Then, too, White had insisted on stopping at every settlement that promised a chance for trading, and had even run fifty miles up Hamilton Inlet with the hope of finding customers for his goods at the half-breed village of Rigoulette. But he had always been disappointed. Either his goods were not in demand, or those who desired them had nothing to offer in exchange but fish, which he did not care to take. And always he was told of a scarcity of food still farther north. So the voyage had been continued in that direction along a coast that ever grew wilder, grander, and more inhospitable.