Every Man for Himself Part 41

"'But how much _is_ it?'

"'Tom Neverbudge,' says he, 'is holdin' it at twenty-four dollar; he've come down one in the las' seven year. But I'm on'y 'lowin' t' pay twenty-one; you sees I've come _up_ one in the las' _four_ year.'

"''Twould not be hard t' split the difference,' says I.

"'Ay,' says he; 'but they's a wonderful good reason for not payin'

more'n twenty-one for that there special bit o' land.'

"'What's that?' says I.

"'Well,' says he, ''tis second-handed.'

"'Second-handed!' says I. 'That's queer!'

"'Been used,' says he.

"'Used, Uncle Bill?'

"'Ay,' says he; 'been used-been used, now, for nigh sixty year.'

"'She's all wore out?' says I.

"'No,' says he; 'not wore out.'

"'_She'd_ grow nothin'?' says I.

"'Well,' says he, 'nothin' much is expected, Tumm,' says he, 'in that line.'

"I give a tug at my pocket, an', ecod! out jumped the bottle o' Scotch.

"'Well, well!' says he. 'Dear man! But I bet ye,' says he, 'that you isn't fetched no pain-killer.'

"'That I is!' says I.

"'Then,' says he, 'about half an' half, Tumm, with a dash o' water; that's the way I likes it when I takes it.'

"So we fell to, ol' Bill Hulk an' me, on the Scotch an' the pain-killer.

"Well, now, after that," Tumm resumed, presently, "I went deep sea for four year in the South American fish trade; an' then, my ol' berth on the _Quick as Wink_ bein' free of inc.u.mbrance-'twas a saucy young clerk o' the name o' Bullyworth-I 'lowed t' blow the fever out o' my system with the gales o' this here coast. 'A whiff or two o' real wind an' a sight o' Mother Burke,' thinks I, 'will fix _me_.' 'Twas a fine Sunday mornin' in June when I fetched Gingerbread Cove in the ol' craft-warm an' blue an' still an' sweet t' smell. 'They'll be no Bill Hulk, thank G.o.d!' thinks I, 't' be crawlin' up the hill t' meetin' _this_ day; _he've_ got through an' gone t' his berth for all time. I'd like t' yarn with un on this fine civil Sunday,' thinks I; 'but I 'low he's jus' as glad as I is that he've been stowed away nice an' comfortable at last.'

But from the deck, ecod! when I looked up from shavin', an' Skipper Jim was washin' up in the forecastle, I cotched sight o' ol' Bill Hulk, bound up the hill through the sunshine, makin' tolerable weather of it, with the wind astern, a staff in his hand, and the braw black coat on his back.

"'Skipper Jim,' sings I, t' the skipper below, 'you hear a queer noise?'

"'No,' says he.

"'Nothin' like a squeak or a rattle?'

"'No,' says he. 'What's awry?'

"'Oh, nothin' says I:' on'y ol' Bill Hulk's on the road.'

"I watched un crawl through the little door on Meetin'-house Hill long after ol' Sammy Street had knocked off pullin' the bell; an' if I didn't hear neither squeak nor rattle as he crep' along, why, I _felt_ un, anyhow, which is jus' as hard to bear. 'Well,' thinks I, 'he've kep'

them bones above ground, poor man! but he's never _at_ it yet. He've knocked off for good,' thinks I; 'he'll stumble t' meetin' of a fine Sunday mornin', an' sit in the sun for a spell; an' then,' thinks I, 'they'll stow un away where he belongs.' So I went aboard of un that evenin' for a last bit of a yarn afore his poor ol' throat rattled an'

quit.

"'So,' says I, 'you is at it yet?'

"'Ay, Tumm,' says he; 'isn't quite through-yet. But,' says he, 'I'm 'lowin' t' _be_.'

"'Hard at it, Uncle Bill?' says I.

"'Well, no, Tumm,' says he; 'not hard. Back give warnin' a couple o'

year ago,' says he, 'an' I been sort o' easin' off for fear o' accident.

I've quit the Far Away grounds,' says he, 'but I been doin' very fair on Widows' Shoal. They's on'y one o' them fishin' there nowadays, ah' she 'lowed she didn't care.'

"'An' when,' says I, 'is you 'lowin' t' knock off?'

"'Jus' as soon as I gets through, Tumm,' says he. 'I won't be a minute longer.'

"Then along come the lean-cheeked, pig-eyed, scrawny-whiskered son of a squid which owned the bit o' prope'ty that Bill Hulk had coveted for thirty year. Man o' the name o' Tom Budge; but as he seldom done it, they called un Neverbudge; an' Gingerbread Cove is full o' Never-budges t' this day. Bill 'lowed I might as well go along o' he an' Tom t'

overhaul the bit o' land they was tryin' t' trade; so out we put on the inland road-round Burnt Bight, over the crest o' Knock Hill, an' along the alder-fringed path. 'Twas in a green, still, soft-breasted little valley-a little pool o' sunshine an' gra.s.s among the hills-with Ragged Ridge t' break the winds from the sea, an' the wooded slope o' the Hog's Back t' stop the nor'westerly gales. 'Twas a lovely spot, sir, believe me, an' a gentle-hearted one, too, lyin' deep in the warmth an' glory o'

sunshine, where a man might lay his head on the young gra.s.s an' go t'

sleep, not mindin' about nothin' no more. Ol' Bill Hulk liked it wonderful well. Wasn't no square o' ground on that coast that he'd rather own, says he, than the little plot in the sou'east corner o' that graveyard.

"'Sight rather have that, Tumm,' says he, 'than a half-acre farm.'

"'Twas so soft an' snug an' sleepy an' still in that little graveyard that I couldn't blame un for wantin' t' stretch out somewheres an' stay there forever.

"'Ay,' says he, 'an' a thirty-foot potato-patch throwed in!'

"'''Tis yours at the price,' says Tom Neverbudge.

"'_If_,' says Bill Hulk, ''twasn't a second-handed plot. See them graves in the sou'west corner, Tumm?'

"Graves o' two children, sir: jus' on'y that-laid side by side, sir, where the sunlight lingered afore the shadow o' Hog's Back fell.

"'Been there nigh sixty year,' says Bill. 'Pity,' says he; 'wonderful pity.'

"'They won't do you no harm,' says Neverbudge.

"'Ay,' says Bill; 'but I'm a bachelor, Tom, used t' sleepin' alone,'

says he, 'an' I'm 'lowin' I wouldn't take so wonderful quick t' any other habit. I'm told,' says he, 'that sleepin' along o' children isn't what you might call a easy berth.'

"'You'd soon get used t' _that_,' says Neverbudge. 'Any family man'll tell you so.'

"'Ay,' says Bill; 'but they isn't kin o' mine. Why,' says he, 'they isn't even friends!'