X

OF RICKI

ies of the Lord, as manifest in fish and weather, spread her wings for flight to the Labrador. From Bay o' Love to Baby Cove, the hook-and-line men, lying off the Harborless Shore, had done well enough with the fish for folk of their ill condition, and were well enough disposed toward trading; whereupon Tumm resumed once more his genial patronage of the Lord God A'mighty, swearing, in vast satisfaction with the trade of those parts, that all was right with the world, whatever might seem at times. "In this here world, as Davy Junk used t' hold," he laughed,

d o' Davy Junk, o' Dirty-Face B

r taunted. "A rascal yo

r his religion,"

reli

ys 'lowed that in this here damned ol' world a man had t' bite or

!" said t

arned to h

he mists beyond the waters o' the time: he was born here at Dirty-Face Bight, but sailed the Word o' the Lord out o' Rickity Tickle, in the days of his pride, when I was a lad o' the place; an' he cotched his load, down north, lean seasons or plenty, in a way t' make the graybeards an' boasters blink in every tickle o' the Shore. A fish-killer o' parts he was: no great spectacle on the roads o' harbor, though-a mild, backward, white-livered little man ashore, yieldin' the path t' every dog o' Rickity Tickle. 'I gets my fish in season,' says he, 'an' I got a right t' mind my business between whil

in' so blithely as t' strike Davy Junk in a mean advantage! Eyes of a wolf-pup. 'Twas stand off a pace, with Davy, on first meetin', an' eye a man 'til he'd found what he wanted t' know; an' 'twas sure with the look of a Northern pup o' wolf's breedin', no less, that he'd search out a stranger's intention-ready t' run in an' bite, or t' dodge the toe of a boot, as might chance t' seem best. 'Twas a thing a man marked first of all; an' he'd marvel so hard for a bit, t' make he

ttled once an' for all-'twas p

' says I, 'what

?' says he, aft

'I'm jus' cur

u doesn't mean no harm. That's jus' Nature havin' her way. An' though I isn't very fond o' Nature, I got t'

ary as a w

in a flash, with his teeth s

y wants t' hurt a

world,' says he. 'No mercy n

t' the lad that was I. '

ys he, 'I fo

Ho

' along t' be t

s I, 'it looks t' me like

thirty-two, like me,' says h

scare me, Sk

l o' wolves,

u doesn't like t' th

t' think,' says he. 'I've gathe

t, ecod,' says I, 'an

never

the friendly stars, for such reassurance, perha

ea,' says he; 'but I isn't goin' t' die o' want ashore.' So he'd a bad name for drivin' a craft beyond her strength; an' 'twas none but stout hearts-blithe young devils, the most, with a wish t' try their spirit-would ship on the Word o' the Lord. 'Don't you blame me an we're cast away,' says Davy, in fair warnin'. 'An you got hearts in your bellies, you keep out o' this. This here coast,' says he, 'isn't got no mercy on a man that can't get his fish. An' I isn't that breed o' man!' An' so from season t'

'd only fetch sorrow t' the folk that loved me. An' so I don't want t' have nothin' t' do with nobody. I wants t' cotch my fish in season-an' then I wants t' be left alone. Hate or love: 'tis all the same-trouble for the hearts o' folk on both sides. An', anyhow, I isn't got nothin' t' do with this world. I'm only lookin' on. No favors took,' says he, 'an' none granted.' An', well-t' be sure-in the way the world has-the world o' Rickity Tickle an' the Labrador let un choose his own path. But it done Davy Junk

not been wonderful tender o' heart he'd have nursed no spite against God's world; an' whatever an' all, had he but had th

says he, one nigh

that, Ski

s wee baby has come t'

I, 'what's y

re damned ol' world,' says he. 'I'm only

s I. 'Isn't nobo

ears an' hunger,' says he,

re'n that in

eath an

in love. 'Kis

uble,' says he. 'Death in e

ys I, 'you've come

th for you an you've no teeth o' your own. Janet Luff's baby, says you? But a dollar a tooth; an'-I keeps my teeth; keeps un sharp an' ready for them that might want t' bite me in my old age. If I was a fish I'd be fond o' angle-worms; bein' born in a wolf's world, with the soul of a wolf, why, damme, I files my teeth! Still an' all, lad, I'm a genial man, an' I'll not deny that I'm unhappy. You thinks I likes t' hear the lads ashore mock me for a pinch-penny an' mean man? No, sir! It grieves me. I wants all the time t' hear the little fellers sing out: "Ahoy, th

ed t' my ma

m,' says he, '

s I, 'go wash the wi

'How's tha

t t' do a good deed,' sa

. 'I'll have no hand what

hy

t be kind t

d's

you se

his harbor. There'll be a crew o' good women an' Labrador hands at Janet's when the ne

one goo

d, Skipper Davy,' says

hakin' from head t' toe-with some queer te

haste!'

ed!' he whimpered. 'I-

a still, black harbor, an' a million stars a-twinkle." He paused-and looked up from the shadowy deck of the Quick as Wink. "What more can a man ask t' stay his soul," he demanded, "than all them little stars?" The skipper

me like a vision: the glimpse of a path, got from a hill-a path the feet o' men may tread t' hell an men perversely choose it. A wolf's world? A world as you likes it! An' in my young world was no sorrow at all-nor any sin, nor hate, nor hunger, nor tears. But love, ecod!-which, like truth, comes new t' the young, an' first glimpsed is forever glorious. I was sixteen then-a bit more, perhaps; an' I was fond o' laughter an' hope. An' Bessie Tot was in my world: a black-haired, red-lipped little rogue, with gray eyes, slow glances, an' black lashes t' veil her heart from eager looks. First love for T. Tumm, I'm bold t' say; for I'm proud o' the odd lift o' soul it give me-which I've

ks the lad, that was I, 'lest it b

-the same everywh

sighe

y mother said me nay-until I pestered her skirts an' her poor heart beyond bearin'; an' then all at once she cried, an' kissed me, an' cried a bit more, an' kissed me again, an' hugged me, an' 'lowed that a lad had t' be a man some time, whatever happened, an' bade me sail along o' Skipper Davy an he'd take me, which he never would do, thinks she. It come about, whatever an' all, that I found Skipper Davy on the doorstep of his spick-an'-span cottage by Blow-Me, near the close o' that day,

er, Skipper

'It all depends on

ot in the habi

in' t' peep

! 'Foul weather, an' no talkin', man

, an' she'll blow fair. She've her humors as well as we, haven't she? An' she've her business, too. An' how can y

ys I. 'What's hap

a man haves the right t' try a

e been overh

put his soul shipshape wi

h my heart in my mouth, 'I 'low I'

on,' says he.

to, Skip

mother ashor

y mother says a lad's go

ford t' take

odied for my years. None more so. Take me alon

together-an' you-was kind. Tis not my habit, lad, t' be fond o' nobody,' says he, in a flash, 'an' I'll not keep it u

re you'll

got t' be careful! Thinks I-why, I can't have Tumm cast away, for what would his mother do? Thinks I-I'll reef, an' I'll

' all, I g

't driven

ays I, fair desper

at?' s

s I, 'an' I wants with all m

goin' t' do

her in du

had been true. 'A maid?' says he then. 'A-maid! An' you'll wed her in due season! You, lad! Knee-high to a locust! An' you wants t' go down the Labrador t' prove your courage for the sake of a maid? For-Love! Tis not a share o' the catch you wants-'tis not altogether the sight o' strange places-'tis

ldn't

I'll further your p

hing beyond belief, an' I was bound out when the weather fell fair. An' out we put, in the Word o' the Lord, in good time; an' Skipper Davy-moved by fear of his fondness, no doubt-cuffed me from Rickity Tickle t' the Straits, an' kicked me from the Barnyards t' Thumb-an'-Finger o' Pinch-Me Head. 'I isn't able t' be partial, lad,' says he, 't' them I'm fool enough t' be fond of.' Whatever had come to un overnight at Rickity Tickle-an' however he'd learned t' peep in new ways-there was no sign o' conversion on the cruise from

he anchor was down an' the Word o' the

er, Tumm?' say

I

kicks an' cuffs,' says he; 'they

uty,'

conscience t' make a man o' your mother's son. An', moreover,' says h

y, Skipp

on't owe me nothin', I

nt t' smash with a boom-bang-swish an' hiss o' drippin' thunder. By day 'twas haul the traps-pull an oar an' fork the catch with a back on fire, cracked hands, salt-water sores t' the elbow, soggy clothes, an' an empty belly; an' by night 'twas split the fish-slash an' gut an' stow away, in the torchlight, with sticky eyelids, hands an' feet o' lead, an' a neck as limp as death. I learned a deal about life-an' about the worth of a dollar in labor. 'Take that!' says Skipper Davy, with the toe of his boot, 'an' I'm sorry t' have to do it, but you can't fall asleep on a stack o' green cod at two o'clock in t

o' northern lights abroad, an' the ol' Word o'

up. 'Tumm,' says he

y,

is you

' says I, 'cuddled

'You doesn't bear no malice for all them kicks an' cuffs, does you?' says he. 'You sees, lad, I-I

ys I, 'I've

doin' her

up at th

says he.

ful friendly little b

ooks up at

friends

r o' the world!' says he, 'I

-an' wonder, an' ponder, an' wish with all their young, eager hearts t' follow the paths an' learn. An' we that are growed forget the wonder an' the wish-an' show no scars that we can hide, an' draw the curtain upon our ways, an' make mockery o' truth, an' clothe our hearts in hypocrisy, an' offer false example, an' lie of our lives an' souls, lest we stand ashamed. 'Tis a cruel fate for lads, it may be, an' a deceitful prophecy. I k

e the good deed, an' knowed 'twas a good deed; an' I been a sight happier ever since-though I'm woebegone enough, God knows! But the windows o' my soul is cleaner. I'm awakened. I been sort o' converted-t' love. An' comin' down the coast-an' here at the fishin', with the gales ill-minded an' steeped in hate, an' the Thumb an' the Finger jus' waitin' t' le'ward t' pinch us all t' death-I been broodin' a deal upon love. An' I'm lonely. An' now, Tumm, I wants t' get married-as a lonely man will. An' they's a maid back there at Rickity Tickle that I loved in my youth. She've a kind heart and a comely face. Sh

says I, 'I'll d

om the north. I 'low we'll get underway at dawn

ys I, 'she

id,' says he,

age, 'is the man she've wa

e, 'you might mov

'I'll do what I

' I forgives you all the grief th

g lad's heart. An' sure she was sister t' all the lads o' Rickity Tickle-love in her touch, wisdom on her lips, an' faith in her eyes. A Newf'un'land maid: buxom now, an' still rosy an' fair an' blue-eyed an' tender. But not merry at all: gone too far in years, I used t' think, for folly t' flush an' dimple her-she was goin' on thirty-but as it was, as then I knowed, too much grieved for waste o' merriment. An' when she'd hugged me, her nurseling, as she used t' say-an' when she'd noted my stride an' the spread o' my feet-an' had marked my elderly talk an' praised my growth-I told her my errand. I plumped it out, without mercy, in

!' says she. 'I ju

timber in his

hat! 'Oh no,' says sh

ick for loo

'you didn't know un wh

' he've kep' you wa

it,' says she; 'for I jus' k

Skipper Dav

he. 'I'm-wond

eddin' in Rickity Tickle afore

en. 'An', ecod!' says she, 'I got

an' clammy with wet alder-leaves. Skipper Davy come with fair courage, laggin' a bit by the way, in the way o' lovers, thinks I, at such times. An' I'd my ha

t!' s

Ay

her outright-th

, su

p for it

sake!'

won't!'

eaves by the wayside-an' the world in a cold drench o' misty rain-an' the night as dark as death-an' rage an' grief beyond measure in my heart. An' at last I come t' Davy Junk's cottage by Blow-Me, an' forthwith pushed in t' the kitchen. An' there sot Davy Junk, snuggled up to his own fire, his face in his hands, woebegone an' hateful of hisself an' all the world-his soul lost, not because he'd failed in love for a maid, or worked woe in a woman's heart, but because in fear o' the world he'd lived all his years in despite o' love, an' love had left un for good a

mistake, Tu

Skippe

s he, with his teeth bared. 'An', damme,

,' says I, 'yo

te o' the thing on my lips-an' t' ease the grief in my heart-an' t' find some new store o' faith for my soul. An'

y-Face Bight; but Skipper Jim, of the Quick as W

ecome o

he Lord," Tumm replied,

e skipper observed, "an'

th a moral

per Jim agreed. "Davy Junk

ded, "'tis as much

ir own knowledge and perfect un

e United Stat