Part 40 (2/2)

”We was sittin' in the cabin--the cook an' the second hand an' me.

”''Tis wonderful cold,' says the second hand.

”'I'm chillin', meself,' says the cook.

”'Chillin'!' thinks I, havin' in mind the way poor Tommy Mib was took.

'Has you a pain in your back?' says I.

”They was s.h.i.+verin' a wonderful lot, an' the cook was holdin' his head in his hands, just like Tommy Mib used t' do.

”'Ay, b'y,' says he.

”'Ay, b'y,' says the second hand.

”'Been drilled too hard o' late,' says the cook. 'We're all wore out along o' work an' worry.'

”I didn't wait for no more. 'H-m-m!' says I, 'I thinks I'll take a look outside.'

”It was dawn then. Lord! what a sulky dawn it was! All gray, an' drivin'

like mad. The seas was rollin' in, with a frothy wind-lop atop o' them.

They'd lift us, smother us, drop us, toss the schooners ridin' in our lee, an' go t' smash on the big, black rocks ash.o.r.e. Lord! how they pulled at the old _Sink or Swim_! 'Twas like as if they wanted her bad for what she done. Seems t' me the Lord G.o.d A'mighty must 'a' knowed what He was about. Seems to me the Lord G.o.d A'mighty said t' Hisself: 'Skipper Jim,' says He, 'I'm through usin' _you_. I've done all the damage I want done along o' you. I've sent some o' the wicked t' beds they chose t' lie on; an' the good folk--all the good folk an' little kids I couldn't wait no longer for, I loved un so--I've took up here.

Ay, Jim,' says the Lord G.o.d A'mighty, 'I'm through usin' you; an' I got t' get rid o' the old _Sink or Swim_. I'm sorry for the cook an' the second hand an' poor Tommy Mib,' says He, 'wonderful sorry; but I can't run My world no other way. An' when you comes t' think it over,' says He, 'you'll find 'tis the best thing that could happen t' they, for they're took most wonderful bad.' Oh ay,” said Docks, with a gentle smile, ”the Lord G.o.d A'mighty knowed what He was about.

”I went for'ard t' have a look at the chain. Skipper Jim hisself was there, watchin' it close.

”'She's draggin',' says he. But I wouldn't 'a' knowed that voice for Skipper Jim's--'twas so hollow and breathless. 'She's draggin',' says he. 'Let her drag. They's a better anchorage in there a bit. She'll take the bottom agin afore she strikes them craft.'

”We was draggin' fast--bearin' straight down on the craft inside. They was a trader an' two Labrador fis.h.i.+n'-craft. The handiest was a fis.h.i.+n'

boat, bound home with the summer's cotch, an' crowded with men, women, an' kids. We took the bottom an' held fast within thirty fathom of her bow. I could see the folk on deck--see un plain as I sees you--hands an'

lips an' eyes. They was swarmin' fore an' aft like a lot o' scared seal--wavin' their arms, shakin' their fists, jabberin', leapin' about in the wash o' the seas that broke over the bows.

”'Docks,' says the skipper, 'what's the matter with they folk, anyhow?

We isn't draggin', is we?' says he, half cryin'. 'We isn't hurtin'

_they_, is we?'

”An old man--'tis like he was skipper o' the craft--come runnin'

for'ard, with half a dozen young fellows in his wake. 'Sheer off!' sings the old one. He jabbered a bit more, all the while wavin' us off, but a squall o' wind carried it all away. 'We'll shoot you like dogs an you don't!' says one o' the young ones; an' at that I felt wonderful mean an' wicked an' sorry. Back aft they went. There they talked an' talked; an' as they talked they pointed--pointed t' the breakers that was boilin' over the black rocks; pointed t' the spumey sea an' t' the low, ragged clouds drivin' across it; pointed t' the _Sink or Swim_. Then the skipper took the wheel, an' the crew run for'ard t' the windla.s.s an' jib sheets.

”'Skipper, sir,' says I, 'they're goin' t' slip anchor an' run!'

”'Ay,' says Skipper Jim, 'they knows us, b'y! They knows the _Sink or Swim_. We lies t' win'ard, an' they're feared o' the smallpox. They'll risk that craft--women an' kids an' all--t' get away. They isn't a craft afloat can beat t' sea in this here gale. They'll founder, lad, or they'll drive on the rocks an' loss themselves, all hands. 'Tis an evil day for this poor old schooner, Docks,' says he, with a sob, 'that men'll risk the lives o' kids an' women t' get away from her; an' 'tis an evil day for my crew.' With that he climbed on the rail, cotched the foremast shrouds with one hand, put the other to his mouth, an' sung out: 'Ahoy, you! Bide where you is! Bide where you is!' Then he jumped down; an' he says t' me, 'tween gasps, for the leap an' shout had taken all the breath out of un, 'Docks,' says he, 'they's only one thing for a man t' do in a case like this. Get the jib up, b'y. I'm goin' aft t' the wheel. Let the anchor chain run out when you sees me wave my hand. See, lad,' says he, pointin' t' leeward, 'they're waitin', aboard that fis.h.i.+n' craft, t' see what we'll do. We'll show un that we're men!

Jagger be d.a.m.ned,' says he; 'we'll show un that we're men! Call the hands,' says he; 'but leave Tommy Mib lie quiet in his bunk,' says he, 'for he's dead.'

”'Skipper Jim,' says I, lookin' in his blood-red eyes, an' then t' the breakers, 'what you goin' t' do?'

”'Beach her,' says he.

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