Island off the Labrador coast, 1816.
“Samuel Brown. You killed me.”
Samuel Brown woke up from a dead sleep and banged his head on the overturned rowboat he was sleeping under. As he rubbed his head, he heard the rain tapping on the boat. He gave a slight smile and lay back.
“It’s raining.”
Samuel’s back ached as he lay on the rocks. He reached out from under the boat and grabbed the small mug. It was half full of water. He swallowed the sweet rain and placed the mug back out to collect more. His mind went back to the dream. He could see old Pierce pointing at him.
“You killed me.”
“Yes, I did,” Samuel said out loud. “Yes, I did.”
He scratched his wrist under the cuff of the chain attached to the boat. Two months he’d been like this. It was all a misunderstanding.
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Samuel was washing the deck on the ship when Pierce, a tall man and expert fisher, was losing at a card game. Hushed accusations became louder and soon Pierce and a man named Crocket were at each other’s throats. A melee broke out and Samuel grabbed the bucket he was using.
He swung the bucket wildly, trying to break up the fisticuffs. On one downward swing, he struck Pierce on the head. It was an accident. Pierce not only lost his money but also his life as he fell to the deck. Pierce was dead and Samuel was in irons.
Samuel reflected on this as he listened to the rain. He reached out for the mug. After a long drink, he replaced the mug and thought of his first days on the island.
The captain was a right hard bastard. He was also greedy as hell. The last thing he wanted was to go back to Scotland for a trial and waste the summer with no fishing. Samuel didn’t know who came up with the idea of abandoning him on this island, but it struck the captain as sound. Samuel swore to himself that if he found out who the bastard was, he'd spend a whole summer waiting just to kill him.
When they arrived at the island, the sailors pulled the rowboat over the beach and onto the hard sand. Happy that Samuel couldn’t move the boat down to the water, they chained him to the rowboat and put the meager amount of food and water they were leaving him just out of reach. The sailors laughed as Samuel tried to pull the heavy rowboat towards the food. Just as he got close, the sailors would grab the food and water and place it further away. The game went on for hours until a gunshot from the ship signaled the sailors to return. They moved the food once more and returned to the ship, laughing all the way back.
“We will see you in a couple of months,” they yelled. Samuel didn’t bother watching them go. He pulled the rowboat towards the food one last time. He was so exhausted he could hardly eat. He flipped the boat over and brought the food inside. It rained hard and a lot of water ran under the boat. Samuel was in misery.
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The rain was heavier now, and Samuel grabbed the mug. He drank all of the water in one gulp and replaced the mug. He may have been starving but at least the water was keeping him alive. The rain was also a relief from the flies, although he knew they would be back in droves in the morning.
He wondered if Pierce was out there in the rain. He first saw the dead man a month after he was imprisoned. Pierce just stared at him. It was also the first time he saw the silver wolf. No doubt hanging around for an easy meal.
Samuel gazed out from under the boat and saw the dead man again. He was standing by the big rocks just on shore. The spectre just stared at him. Samuel rolled onto his back. He kept telling himself it was the starvation that caused him to see Pierce. He grabbed the mug once more and swallowed its contents. He lay back and let sleep overwhelm him.
Samuel was awoken by voices. He shook his head. Suddenly the boat flipped over, and Samuel was looking at three faces. They were laughing.
“The bastard’s still alive.”
Samuel was grabbed and lifted to his feet. The three sailors punched him in the gut. Samuel dropped to his knees.
“Get his boots,” one of the sailors yelled. Samuel was kicked over onto his back as two of his attackers wrenched the boots off. Samuel was too weak to fight them.
“Captain says we have to leave you some food,” the lead sailor said as he walked a good hundred yards away. He put the meager supplies down on a rock and returned.
“Captain says if you’re still alive in another month, you’re coming back to Scotland and you’re going on trial.”
“Murderer,” another sailor said.
A gunshot from the ship got the sailors' attention. They each kicked Samuel one last time and returned to their rowboat. They were back on board the ship before Samuel had recovered enough to take in his predicament.
“Christ almighty.”
Samuel stared at the supplies. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself up and steadied himself against the rowboat. He pulled at the cuff on his wrist. Two months of starving with the occasional raw rat or seabird that came close to staving it off was not enough for him to slip his wrist out.
He resigned himself to his fate and stumbled to the bow of the boat. He grabbed the boat, took a deep breath, and pulled. The boat barely moved and inch. After a second attempt, Samuel collapsed. He turned to see Pierce standing on the other side of the food, dressed as he was on the day he died, shirt and pants and decent boots. His shaggy beard was as clean as his bald head. The dead man was staring at him, mocking him, almost laughing at his situation.
“Why don’t you go away? Haven’t I been punished enough?”
Pierce was unmoved. Samuel got up and pulled the boat again. It moved half a foot.
“See? See? I still got some strength left.”
Emboldened, he pulled again at the boat. The food was coming closer. His feet started to blister against the rocks as Samuel pulled. The flies bit at his ravaged skin as he pulled harder. When he felt he was close enough, Samuel let go of the boat and walked the length of his chain. He was two feet short.
He went back to the boat. As he pulled, he stopped short. Gazing down, Samuel found the boat was caught up against a large rock in the sand. Samuel moaned and cursed. Losing his temper, he turned toward his silent visitor and yelled, “Help me you bastard!”
Pierce stood perfectly still. Samuel looked down at the stone. He knew he wouldn’t be able to move it so he would have to go around it. With an effort, he pulled the boat toward the side of the stone. It was hard going as the rowboat would rock back and forth before moving. After several minutes of effort, he finally succeeded in freeing the boat.
Samuel cried out in triumph. He cursed Pierce and started to pull the boat again. The hard sand helped slide the boat and soon he was close enough. He needed to rest and sat down, closing his eyes. After several minutes, Samuel opened his eyes. To his horror, he spied the wolf trotting toward him up the beach. Pierce smiled.
Samuel got to his feet and stumbled toward the food. The chain brought up just inches away. Samuel screamed in frustration, his hoarse voice sounding through the wilderness. With both hands he grabbed the chain and pulled. He only needed a couple of inches. His back roared in pain as did his legs as they started to cramp.
The boat jerked forward. Samuel turned to reach for the food but was met with the jaws of the wolf who bit down on his hand. Samuel screamed as he pulled his hand back. The wolf grabbed the small sack of food and turned away. Samuel yelled at the animal as it trotted off.
“The hell with you!”
He reached for the small flask of water. As he grabbed it, his hand was shaking so hard from the wolf’s bite that he dropped it out of reach, and it spilled all the water. Samuel stood and watched the water sink into the sand. He started to laugh. He pointed at the water and turned to Pierce. The ghost was smiling.
Hours later, it rained, and Samuel sat in the rowboat. He was too weak to flip it over. Pierce stood next to him. As he lay drenched, Samuel said to his spectral visitor, “I didn’t mean to kill you.”
Pierce stared at him. He was now covered in blood with a vicious head wound.
“I was just trying to break up the fight. I’m sorry I hit you.”
Pierce continued to stare at him.
“Is this punishment enough for you?” Pierce answered by pointing at the cuff on his wrist. Samuel looked at the cuff and then pulled at it. His skin was soaked, and the cuff started to slide down his wrist. Samuel moved the cuff back and forth, cutting into his skin but getting a little further with it. Pierce watched.
The bitten hand throbbed as Samuel pulled. The chain cut more skin and with an effort, his hand finally slid through the cuff. Samuel looked at his free hand and started to laugh. With his remaining strength, he pulled himself up and fell out of the boat and onto the sand. He stood up and yelled at Pierce.
“Pierce! I’m free. The hell with you and the captain and his bastard sailors.”
He turned and ran up the beach, forgetting the ghost. As he ran, Samuel screamed at the sky and the sea. Eventually he stopped and gazed at the sea and the pouring rain. He heard the padding of feet. He turned to see several wolves staring at him.
“The silver’s pack.”
He noticed they were different colours. White, black and a mixture of both. He started running and they trotted along with him, knowing the easy meal that was to come. Samuel laughed out loud as he continued to run.
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A month later when the captain and his ship returned to the island, his sailors found the empty rowboat and the bloody chain. They found blood further up the beach but no other sign of Samuel.
After reporting this to the captain, he and the first mate chose one of the other men, a simple man from St. Mirren’s, to take Samuel’s place in the murder of Pierce. The crew made no effort to resist the decision.
As the ship pulled away, Pierce stood on the beach along side the silver wolf. They both showed signs of contentment.
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