The Beothuk Expedition Read Online Free PDF Page A

correct our shoreward drift. At dawn on the following day, I made Cape Bonavista in the circle of my glass with the wind rising steadily and veering sharply to the west. I sensed a blow approaching and was not far wrong, for soon the swell increased and dark clouds gathered on the northern horizon.
    The weather was of little concern on the quarterdeck, as we would soon be within the harbour and reasonably sheltered. Bonavista was not an ideal sanctuary for a ship of the line but it would serve if the need arose. I had been to the place several times as a boy and as we rounded Green Island, I saw the flakes that ringed the treeless plain below the cape. This was no longer the most northerly settlement on the coast but it was still the centre of the area’s prosperous fishery. I was thinking of old John Cabot, who was said to have sighted land here centuries before, when I realized that the tall masts of the Liverpool were nowhere to be seen. The rising wind quickly brought us to within half a league of shore and our sails were being reefed when I observed a boat emerging from the inner harbour. It was under a press of sail and heading for the Guernsey , and making heavy weather of it in the short swell. I summoned the gunner and conferred with him briefly before informing Mr. Cartwright of the vessel’s approach. He joined me at the rail with his tricorn hat in one hand and the remains of his breakfast in the other.
    â€œWhat do you make of it, Mister Squibb?” he asked through a mouthful of bread.
    I studied the boat through my glass. “She may have a message for us, sir. I can see no other reason to sail in the teeth of a coming gale.”
    The lieutenant grunted and watched our visitor, the wind snatching at his wig. “What the devil is it, do you think?” he asked. “I thought a sloop, but I’m damned if it doesn’t look more like a fishing shallop.”
    He was perfectly correct, as the vessel might have been taken for either. It was a peculiar little craft of some forty feet in length, with a single mast instead of the ketch-rigged short main and mizzen that would normally equip a shallop. But she did have the hull of a Newfoundland boat, with an open hold for fish, although she’d been fitted with a decked stern and forecastle in the manner of a sloop. She carried a mainsail, fore staysail and jib, and oddly enough a bare yard was slung from her mainmast, signifying the ability to carry a topsail as well. The most surprising feature of her appearance, however, was the fact that she was armed.
    When I remarked as much to the lieutenant he exclaimed, “What!” and put the glass to his eye. “I think that Captain Palliser should—”
    â€œWhat the devil is this, Mister Cartwright?” The lieutenant flinched at the sound of the captain’s voice. “Why was I not informed of this vessel’s approach?” He was standing immediately behind us, the foppish chaplain at his side.
    â€œMy apologies, sir,” the lieutenant replied. “We were just attempting to discern the vessel’s character before—”
    â€œYes, yes,” the captain said, impatiently relieving him of the glass. “Your watch is it, Mister Squibb? What do you make of her, then?”
    I avoided Mr. Cartwright’s eye and said, “Four swivel guns, sir. One pounders, I should say, and the gunwales newly cut to accommodate them.”
    â€œAnd what sort of vessel is she?”
    â€œA large fishing shallop, sir. Sloop-rigged fore and aft. In a manner of speaking.”
    Mr. Palliser snorted his disapproval that boats should be rigged so contrary to convention. “You know your duty, Mister Squibb. What measures have you taken?”
    â€œI have instructed Mister Bolger to ready a pair of eighteens, sir.”
    â€œVery good, young sir. Well done, indeed. Speak to her master and report to me, Mister Cartwright. Armed, is she? We’ll see about