"The trap's tore to pieces," insisted the son with discouragement in
his voice.
"The berg's to the lee'ard of she," declared Skipper Tom finally.
"Tis too close t' shore."
"'Tis to the lee'ard!"
"Is you sure, now, Pop?"
"The trap's safe and sound! The berg _is_ t' the lee'ard!"
Tom was right. A shift of tide had come at the right moment to save
the trap.
"The Lard is good to us," breathed Skipper Tom. "He've saved our trap!
He always takes care of them that does what they feels is right. We'll
thank the Lard, lads."
In the trap was a fine haul of cod, and when they had removed the fish
the trap was transferred to a new position where it would be quite
safe until the menacing iceberg had drifted away.
There were seventeen families living in Red Bay. As settlements go,
down on The Labrador, seventeen cabins, each housing a family, is
deemed a pretty good sized place.
At Red Bay, as elsewhere on the coast, bad seasons for fishing came
now and again. These occur when the ice holds inshore so long that the
best run of cod has passed before the men can get at them; or because
for some unexplained reason the cod do not appear at all along certain
sections of the coast.
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