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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
25
“To
hear
old
Gaffett
tell
about
it
was
something
awful,”
he
said,
going
on
with
his
story
quite
steadily
after
the
moment
of
excitement
had
passed.
“'Twas
first
a
tale
of
dogs
and
sledges,
and
cold
and
wind
and
snow.
Then
they
begun
to
find
the
ice
grow
rotten;
they
had
been
frozen
in,
and
got
into
a
current
flowing
north,
far
up
beyond
Fox
Channel,
and
they
took
to
their
boats
when
the
ship
got
crushed,
and
this
warm
current
took
them
out
of
sight
of
the
ice,
and
into
a
great
open
sea;
and
they
still
followed
it
due
north,
just
the
very
way
they
had
planned
to
go.
Then
they
struck
a
coast
that
wasn't
laid
down
or
charted,
but
the
cliffs
were
such
that
no
boat
could
land
until
they
found
a
bay
and
struck
across
under
sail
to
the
other
side
where
the
shore
looked
lower;
they
were
scant
of
provisions
and
out
of
water,
but
they
got
sight
of
something
that
looked
like
a
great
town.
'For
God's
sake,
Gaffett!'
said
I,
the
first
time
he
told
me.
'You
don't
mean
a
town
two
degrees
farther
north
than
ships
had
ever
been?'
for
he'd
got
their
course
marked
on
an
old
chart
that
he'd
pieced
out
at
the
top;
but
he
insisted
upon
it,
and
told
it
over
and
over
again,
to
be
sure
I
had
it
straight
to
carry
to
those
who
would
be
interested.
There
was
no
snow
and
ice,
he
said,
after
they
had
sailed
some
days
with
that
warm
current,
which
seemed
to
come
right
from
under
the
ice
that
they'd
been
pinched
up
in
and
had
been
crossing
on
foot
for
weeks.”
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