Part 20 (1/2)

Not pray? Ver' religious man, Skip' Jim-ver', ver' religious. Pray? Oh, I know _him_. Pray? You bet he pray! You ask Skip' Jim to pray, an' he pray-oh, he pray, you bet! 'O G.o.d,' he pray, 'I am ver' much 'blige' for Tom s.h.i.+va. I am ver' much 'blige' he come to Skeleton Teekle. I am ver'

much 'blige' he have thee soft heart. I am ver' much 'blige' you fix thee heart to help poor ol' Skip' Jim. He good Jew, O G.o.d.' (Pooh! I am Syrian man-not Jew. But I am not tell, for I am ver' good business man).

'Forgive this poor Tom s.h.i.+va, O my dear G.o.d!'

”I get ver' tired with thee prayin'. I am ver' good business man. I am want thee gold.

”'Skip' Jim!' I whis-pair. 'Oh, Skip' Jim!' I say. 'Thee bargain! Fix thee bargain with thee dear G.o.d.' My heart is ver' mad with thee fear.

'Fix thee bargain with thee good G.o.d,' I say. 'Oh, Skip' Jim!' I whis-pair. 'Queek! I am offer seventy-five dollar.'

”Then he get up from thee knee. Ver' obstinate man-ver', ver' obstinate man, this ol' Skip' Jim. He get up from thee knee. What he theenk? Eh?

He theenk he ver' good business man. He theenk he beat Tom s.h.i.+va by thee sin. Want G.o.d? Oh no! Not want G.o.d to know, you bet!

”'I am want one hundred dollar,' he say, ver' cross, 'for thee heap of spoil' gold an' silver. Thee G.o.d is bus-ee. I am do this business by thee 'lone. Thee dear G.o.d is ver', ver' bus-ee jus' now. I am not bother him no more.'

”'Ver' well,' I say. 'I am geeve you eighty.'

”'Come,' he say; 'ninety will have do.'

”'Ver' well,' I say. 'You are my friend. I geeve you eighty-five.'

”'Ver' well,' he say. 'I am love you ver' much, Tom s.h.i.+va. I take it.

Ver' kind of you, Tom s.h.i.+va, to buy all thee spoil' gold an' silver. I am hope you have not lose thee money.'

”I am ver' hones' business man. Eh? What I say? I say I lose thee money?

No, no! I am thee ver' mos' hones' business man in Newf'un'lan'. I am too hones' to say thee lie.

”'I am take thee risk,' I say. 'You are my friend, Skip' Jim,' I say. 'I am take thee risk. I am geeve you eighty-five dollar for all the spoil'

gold an' silver-half cash, half trade.... I am have mos' wonderful suit clothes for ver' cheap....'”

And the fool of Skeleton Tickle was left with a suit of shoddy tweed and fifty-seven dollars in unspoiled gold and silver coin, believing that he had overreached the peddler from Damascus and New York, piously thanking G.o.d for the opportunity, ascribing glory to him for the success, content that it should be so.... And Tanous s.h.i.+va departed by the mail-boat, as he had come, with the seven lobster-tins of gold and the half-bushel of silver which three generations had labored to acc.u.mulate; and he went south to St. John's, where he converted the spoiled coin into a bank credit of ten thousand dollars, content that it should be so. And thereupon he set out again to trade....

The mail-boat was now riding at anchor within the harbor of Skeleton Tickle. Rain was falling-thin, penetrating, cold, driven by the wind. On the bleak, wet hills, the cottages, vague in the mist, cowered in dumb wretchedness, like men of sodden patience who wait without hope. A punt put out from sh.o.r.e-came listlessly toward the steamer for the mail.

”Ho! Tom Timms!” the Syrian shouted. ”That you, Tom Timms? How Skip' Jim All? How my ol', good friend Skip' Jim All?”

The boat was under the quarter. Tom Timms s.h.i.+pped his oars, wiped the rain from his whiskers, then looked up-without feeling.

”Dead,” he said.

”Dead!” The man turned to me. ”I am thank thee good G.o.d,” he whispered, reverently, ”that I am get thee gold in time.” He shuddered. ”O, my G.o.d!” he muttered. ”What if I have come thee too late!”

”Ay, dead,” Tom Timms repeated. ”He sort o' went an' jus' died.”

”Oh, dear! How have he come to die? Oh, my poor friend, ol' Skip' Jim!