Every Man for Himself Part 15

"'You is,' says Arch. ''Tis plain in your face. You looks low and vicious. 'Riginal sin, Jim,' says he, 'marks a man.'

"'Think so?' says Jim. 'I'm sorry I got it.'

"'An' look you!' says Arch; 'you better be wonderful careful about unshippin' wickedness on 'Lizabeth.'

"'On 'Lizabeth?' says Jim. 'What you mean? G.o.d knows,' says he, 'I'd not hurt 'Lizabeth.'

"'Then ponder,' says Arch. ''Riginal sin is made you a thief an' a jailbird. Ponder, Jim-ponder!'

"Now," cries Tumm, in an outburst of feeling, "what you think 'Lizabeth All done?"

I was confused by the question.

"Why," Tumm answered, "it didn't make no difference t' she!"

I was not surprised.

"Not s'prised!" cries Tumm. "No," he snapped, indignantly, "nor neither was Slow Jim Tool."

Of course not!

"n.o.body knows nothin' about a woman," said Tumm; "least of all, the woman. An', anyhow," he resumed, "'Lizabeth All didn't care. Why, G.o.d save you, sir!" he burst out, "she loved the shoulders an' soul o' Slow Jim Tool too much t' care. 'Tis a woman's way; an' a woman's true love so pa.s.ses the knowledge o' men that faith in G.o.d is a lesson in A B C beside it. Well," he continued, "sailin' the _Give an' Take_ that fall, I was cotched in the early freeze-up, an' us put the winter in at Jump Harbor, with a hold full o' fish an' every married man o' the crew in a righteous rage. An' as for 'Lizabeth, why, when us cleared the school-room, when ol' Bill b.u.mp fiddled up with the accordion ''Money Musk' an' '_Pop_ Goes the Weasel,' when he sung out, 'Balance!' an'

'H'ist her, lad!' when the jackets was throwed aside an' the boots was cast off, why, 'Lizabeth All jus' fair _clinged_ t' that there big, gray-eyed, pink-an'-white Slow Jim Tool! 'Twas a pretty sight t' watch her, sir, plump an' winsome an' yellow-haired, float like a sea-gull over the school-room floor-t' see her blushes an' smiles an' eyes o'

love. It done me good. I 'lowed I wished I was young again-an' big an'

slow an' kind an' curly-headed. But lookin' about, sir, it seemed t' me, as best I could understand, that a regiment o' little devils was stickin' red-hot fish-forks into the vitals o' Archibald Shott; an' then I 'lowed, somehow, that maybe I was jus' as well off as I was. I got a look in his eyes, sir, afore the night was done; an' it jus' seemed t'

me that the Lord had give me a peep into h.e.l.l.

"'Twas more'n Archibald Shott could carry. 'Tumm,' says he, nex' day, 'I 'low I'll move.'

"'Where to?' says I.

"''Low I'll jack my house down t' the ice,' says he, 'an' haul she over t' Deep Cove. I've growed tired,' says he, 'o' fishin' Jump Harbor.'

"Well, now, they wasn't no prayer-meetin' held t' keep Archibald Shott t' Jump Harbor. The lads o' the place an' the crew o' the _Give an'

Take_ turned to an' jerked that house across the bay t' Deep Cove like a gale o' wind. They wasn't nothin' left o' Archibald Shott at Jump Harbor but the bare spot on the rocks where the house used t' be. When 'twas all over with, Arch come back t' say good-bye; an' he took Slow Jim Tool t' the hills, an', 'Jim,' says he, 'you knows where my house used t' be?

Hist!' says he, 'I wants t' tell you: is you able t' hold a secret?

Well,' says he, 'I wouldn't go pokin' 'round in the dirt there. You leave that place be. They isn't nothin' there that you'd like t' have.

Understand? _Don't go pokin' 'round in the dirt where my ol' house was._ But if you does,' says he, 'an' if you finds anything you wants, why, you can keep it, and not be obliged t' me.' So Jim begun pokin' 'round; being human, he jus' couldn't help it. He poked an' poked, till they wasn't no sense in pokin' no more; an' then he 'lowed he'd give 'Lizabeth a wonderful s'prise in the spring, no matter what it cost.

'Archibald Shott,' says he, 'is a kind man. You jus' wait, 'Lizabeth, an' _see_.' And in the spring, sure enough, off he sot for Chain Tickle, where ol' Jonas Williams have a shop an' a store, t' fetch 'Lizabeth a pink ostrich feather she'd seed in Jonas's trader two year afore. She 'lowed that 'twas a wonderful sight o' money t' lay out on a feather, when he got back; but he says: 'Oh no, 'Lizabeth; the money wasn't no trouble t' get.'

"'No trouble?' says she.

"'Why, no,' says he; 'no trouble t' speak of. I jus' sort o' poked around an' picked it up.'

"About a week after 'Lizabeth All had first wore that pink feather t'

meetin' a constable come ash.o.r.e from the mail-boat an' tapped Slow Jim Tool on the shoulder.

"'What you do that for?' says Jim.

"'In the Queen's name!' says the constable.

"'My G.o.d!' says Jim. 'What is I been doin'?'

"'Counterfeitin',' says the constable.

"'Counter-fittin'!' says Jim. 'What's that?'

"They says," Tumm sighed, "that poor Jim Tool was wonderful s'prised t'

be give two year in chokee t' St. John's for pa.s.sin' lead shillin's; for look you! Jim didn't _know_ they was lead."

"And Elizabeth?" I ventured.

"Up an' died," he drawled....

"Well, now," Tumm proceeded, "'twas three year later that Jim Tool an'

Archibald Shott an' me was shipped from Twillingate aboard the _Billy_ _Boy_ t' fish the Labrador below Mugford along o' Skipper Alex Tuttle.

Jim Tool was more slow an' solemn an' puzzled 'n ever I knowed un t' be afore; an' he was so wonderful shy o' Archibald Shott that Arch 'lowed he'd have the superst.i.tious shudders if it kep' up much longer. 'If he'd only talk,' says Arch, 'an' not creep about this here schooner like a deaf an' dumb ghost!' But Jim said nar a word; he just' kep' a gray eye on Arch till Arch lost a deal more sleep 'n he got. 'He _irks_ me!' says Arch. ''Tisn't a thing a religious man would practise; an' I'll _do_ something,' says he, 't' stop it!' Howbeit, things was easy till the _Billy Boy_ slipped past Mother Burke in fair weather an' run into a dirty gale from the north off the upper French sh.o.r.e. The wind jus'

seemed t' sweep up all the ice they was on the Labrador an' jam it again' the coast at Black Bight. There's where we was, sir, when things cleaned up; gripped in the ice a hundred fathom off the Black Bight cliffs. An' there we stayed, lifted from the pack, lyin' at fearsome list, till the wind turned westerly an' began t' loosen up the ice.

"'Twas after noon of a gray day when the _Billy Boy_ dropped back in the water. They was a bank o' blue-black cloud hangin' high beyond the cliffs; an' I 'lowed t' the skipper, when I seed it, that 'twould blow with snow afore the day was out.

"'Ay,' says the skipper; 'an' 'twon't be long about it.'

"Jus' then Slow Jim Tool knocked Archibald Shott flat on his back. Lord, what a thump! Looked t' me as if Archibald Shott might be damaged.

"'Ecod! Jim,' says I, 'what you go an' do that for?'

"'Why,' says Jim, 'he said a bad word again' the name o' 'Lizabeth.'

"'Never done nothin' o' the kind,' says Arch. 'I was jus' 'bidin' here amidships lookin' at the weather.'

"'Yes, you did, Arch,' says Jim; 'you done it in the forecastle-las'

Wednesday. I heared you as I come down the ladder.'

"'Don't you knock me down again,' says Arch. 'That _hurt_!'

"'Well,' says Jim, 'you keep your tongue off poor 'Lizabeth.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: "YOU KEEP YOUR TONGUE OFF POOR 'LIZABETH"]

"By this time, sir, the lads was all come up from the forecastle. We wasn't much hands at fightin', in them days, on the Labrador craft, bein' all friends t'gether; an' a little turn up on deck sort o' scared the crew. Made un shy, too; they hanged about, backin' an' shufflin', like kids in a parlor, fair itchin' along o' awkwardness, grinnin' a deal wider'n was called for, but sayin' nothin' for fear o' drawin' more attention 'n they could well dodge. Skipper Alex he laughed; then I cackled a bit-an' then off went the crew in a big he-haw. I seed Archibald Shott turn white an' twitch-lipped, an' I minds me now, sir, that he fidgeted somewhat about his hip; but bein' all friends aboard, sir, shipped from near-by harbors, why, it jus' didn't jump into my mind that he was up t' anything more deadly than givin' a hitch to his trousers. How should it? We wasn't _used_ t' brawls aboard the _Billy Boy_. But whatever, Archibald Shott crep' for'ard a bit, till he was close 'longside, an' then bended down t' do up the lashin' of his shoe: which he kep' at, sir, fumblin' like a baby, till Jim looked off t' the clouds risin' over the Black Bight cliffs an' 'lowed 'twould snow like wool afore the hour was over. Then, 'Will she?' says Arch; an' with that he drawed his splittin'-knife an' leaped like a lynx on Slow Jim Tool. I seed the knife in the air, sir-seed un come down point foremost on Jim's big chest-an' heared a frosty tinkle when the broken blade struck the deck. It didn't seem natural, sir; not on the deck o' the _Billy Boy_, where we was all friends aboard, raised in near-by harbors.

"Anyhow, Slow Jim squealed like a pig an' clapped a hand to his heart; an' Arch jumped back t' the rail, where he stood with muscles drawed an'

arms open for a grapple, fair drillin' holes in Jim with his little green eyes.

"'Ouch!' says Jim; 'that wasn't _fair_, Arch!'