Part 42 (2/2)
Skipper Tommy made haste to the small boat, the while raising a cry for Timmie, who had gone about his own pleasure, the Lord knew where! And Timmie ran down the path, as fast as his sea-boots would go: but was intercepted by Jonas Jutt, who drew him into the lower fish-stage, as though in fear of observation, and there whispered the circ.u.mstances of the departure of the _Trap and Seine_.
”But do you tell your father,” he went on, ”that Jagger's not sick.”
”Not sick?” cried Timmie, under his breath.
”Tell your father that I heared Jagger say he'd prove the doctor a coward or drown him.”
Timmie laughed.
”Tell un,” Jonas whispered, speaking in haste and great excitement, ”that Jagger's as hearty drunk as ever he was--loaded t' the gunwale with rum an' hate--in dread o' the trade o' broom-makin'--desperate t'
get clear o' the business o' the _Jessie Dodd_. Tell un he wants t'
drown the doctor atween your harbour an' Wayfarer's Tickle. Tell un t'
give no heed t' the message. Tell un t'----”
”Oh, Lard!” Timmie gurgled, in a spasm of delight.
”Tell un t' have the doctor stay at home 'til the weather lifts. Tell un----”
In response to an urgent call from the skipper, who was waiting at the small-boat, Timmie ran out. As he stumbled down the path, emitting guffaws and delicious chuckles, he conceived--most unhappily for us all--an infinitely humorous plan, which would still give him the delight of a rough pa.s.sage to our harbour: for Timmie loved a wet deck and a reeling beat to windward, under a low, driving sky, with the night coming down, as few lads do. Inform the skipper? Not Timmie! Nor would he tell even Jacky. He would disclose the plot at a more dramatic moment. When the beat was over--when the schooner had made harbour--when the anchor was down--when the message was delivered--in the thick of the outcry of protest against the doctor's high determination to venture upon the errand of mercy--_then_ Timmie Lovejoy, the dramatic opportunity having come, would, with proper regard for his own importance, make the astounding revelation. It would be quite thrilling (he thought); moreover, it would be a masterly joke on his father, who took vast delight in such things.
”The wind's veerin' t' the s'uth'ard,” said the skipper, anxiously, while they put a double reef in the mainsail. ”'Twill be a rough time across.”
”Hut! dad,” Timmie answered. ”Sure, _you_ can make harbour.”
”Ecod!” Jacky added, with a grin. ”You're the man t' do it, dad--_you're_ the man t' drive her!”
”Well, lads,” the flattered skipper admitted, resting from the wrestle with the obstinate sail, and giving his nose a pleased sort of tweak, ”I isn't sayin' I'm not.”
So, low as she was--sunk with the load in her hold and the gear and casks and what-not on her deck--they took the _Trap and Seine_ into the gale. And she made brave weather of it--holding her own stoutly, cheerily shaking the frothy water from her bows: though 'twas an unfair task to put her to. Skipper Tommy put the first hand at the mainsail halliards, the second hand at the foresail, with orders to cut away at the lift of his hand, lest the vessel get on her beam's ends and capsize. 'Twas thus that they drove her into the wind--stout hearts and stout timber: no wavering or weak complaint, whatever the wind and sea.
But night caught them off our harbour--deep night: with the headlands near lost in the black sky; no more than the looming, changing shadow of the hills and the intermittent flash of breakers to guide the way.
They were now beating along sh.o.r.e, close to Long Cove of the mainland, which must then have lain placid in the lee of Naked Point. At the cry of ”Hard-a-lee!”--sung out in terror when the breakers were fair under the bow--the s.h.i.+p came about and fell off towards the open sea. Then came three great waves; they broke over the bow--swept the schooner, stem to stern, the deck litter going off in a rush of white water. The first wrenched Jacky from his handhold; but Skipper Tommy, standing astern, caught him by the collar as the lad went over the taffrail.
Came, then, with the second wave, Timmie, whom, also, the skipper caught. But 'twas beyond the old man's power to lift both to the deck: nor could he cry for help, nor choose whom to drop, loving them alike; but desperately clung to both until the rush of the third wave tore one away.
It was Timmie.
Skipper Tommy Lovejoy, making into our harbour, by way of the Gate, in the depths of that wild night--poor old Skipper Tommy, blind and broken by grief--ran his loaded schooner into the Trap and wrecked her on the Seven Murderers, where she went to pieces on the unfeeling rocks. But we managed to get the crew ash.o.r.e, and no man lost his life at that time. And Skipper Tommy, sitting bowed in my father's house, told us in a dull, slow way--made tragic, from time to time, by the sweet light in his eye, by the flitting shadow of a smile--told us, thus, that Jagger of Wayfarer's Tickle lay at the point of death, in fear of h.e.l.l, crying for the help of his enemy: and then put his arm about Jacky, and went with him to the Rat Hole, there to bury his sorrow, that it might not distress us the more, who sorrowed, also.
XXVII
The DAY of The DOG
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