Chain Locker by Bob Chaulk Page B

Sure, we’re way up to Bonavista Bay—Poole’s Island. You’d never find your way home from here.”
    â€œWhen I saw we were ashore I thought for sure it was to get rid of me. Why did we come in, then? ”
    â€œWe need to do repairs to the ship. She got mauled pretty bad in that storm. We’re already fitting out a new galley. The seas made away with the other one.”
    â€œSir, I wonder if I could get—”
    â€œI ’magine you’re hungry, are you?”
    â€œOh, yes sir. Famished. Thirsty, too.”
    â€œWell, let’s find you some grub.”
    In the galley the cook, Reuben Budgell from Bareneed, was flustered with getting the new galley house in order and had little time for stowaways. He motioned with a three-fingered hand at the pot on the stove. “There’s a couple o’ leggies there if you wants ’em.”
    â€œYes sir, thank you. I’ll have them. What are leggies, sir?”
    â€œRounders.”
    â€œI never heard them called leggies before,” Jackie commented, trying to sound appreciative.
    â€œCall them what you like. The bread’s on the shelf there and there’s lots of tea in the slut.”
    The slut…the slut? Scanning the galley, he saw a large copper kettle on the stove. It looked as if somebody had attacked it with a hammer. That must be the slut.
    After consuming the two salted tomcods, three thick slices of bread with butter, and three mugs of weak tea sweetened with molasses, Jackie’s young body started to bounce back. The future had never looked brighter. When the captain ordered him to work for the cook, he had ceased to be a nonentity. As a member of the crew, he was officially going to the ice. Being a stowaway, he could not expect to share in the proceeds of the hunt, but he had come for the adventure, not the pay. As the last gulp of tea trickled down his throat, Jackie was glad to see Simeon returning to check up on him.
    â€œI see you found some tea to grease your gullet.”
    â€œYes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
    â€œWhere there’s tea, there’s hope, eh? So, where did you stow away to?” he asked. “It wasn’t where I found you or somebody would have seen you before.”
    â€œUp in the eyes of her where they keep the anchor rope,” he replied, pleased for the opportunity to show off that he knew the slang for the foremost part of the ship.
    â€œYou never stowed away in the chain locker?” the cook asked, with raised eyebrows.
    â€œYes sir. I guess I did.”
    â€œAnd was you there in that starm o’ wind we went through?”
    â€œYeah. I sure was.”
    â€œTis a wonder you’re not dead; beat to pieces. I make no wonder you ate so much.” And shaking his head he declared, “Well, heh, heh, you must be tough to stand a herricane in the chain locker. I imagine you’re some cowed out after that.”
    â€œNot anymore. He must’ve slept a day and a night,” said Simeon. “I kept checkin’ on him; thought he was never goin’ to come to.” Turning to Jackie he asked, “Now, where do you come from, there, John Gould?”
    Normally reticent, Jackie surprised himself when he started blabbing on about the details of his life in St. John’s, his family, friends, school, and how he had stowed away; and as he did so he realized that already he missed the routine of his life. He had spent almost every night of his life under the same roof, and the reality was settling upon him that it would be a long time before he was back in his own bed.
    â€œWhere should I sleep?” he asked Simeon.
    â€œAny place you can find to lie down. We’re packed in pretty tight aboard this one. The company’s share of the trip is the same no matter how many men are aboard, so the owners carry as many sealers as they can cram into her.”
    The only place Jackie could find to sleep was in the hold on top of