The Manxman Part 45

He put the stool in the fireplace and sat on it, shouting as he did so between a laugh and a cry, "Aw, Grannie, bogh--Grannie, bogh! to think there's been half the world between us since I was sitting here before!"

And Grannie herself, breaking down, said, "Wouldn't you like the tongs, boy? Give the boy the tongs, woman, just to say he's at home."

Pete plucked the tongs out of Nancy's hands, and began feeding the fire with the gorse. "Aw, Grannie, have I ever been away?" he cried, laughing, and his wet eyes gleaming.

"Nancy Joe, have you no nose at all?" cried Grannie. "The cake's burning to a cinder."

"Let it burn, mother," shouted Pete. "It's the way she was doing herself when she was young and forgetting. s.h.i.+llings a-piece for all that's wasted. Aw, the smell of it's sweet!"

So saying he piled the gorse on the fire, ramming it under the griddle and choking it behind the crow. And while the oatcake crackled and sparched and went black, he sniffed up the burning odour, and laughed and cried in the midst of the smoke that went swirling up the chimney.

And meanwhile, Grannie herself, with the tears rolling down her cheeks, was flapping her ap.r.o.n before her face and saying, "He'll make me die of laughing, he will, though--yes, he will!" But behind the ap.r.o.n she was blubbering to Nancy, "It's coming home, woman, that's it--it's just coming home again, poor boy!"

By this time word of Pete's return had gone round Sulby? and the bar-room was soon thronged with men and women, who looked through the gla.s.s part.i.tion into the kitchen at the bronzed and bearded man who sat smoking by the fire, with his dog curled up at his feet. "There'll be a wedding soon," said one. "The girl's in luck," said another. "Success to the fine girl she always was, and lucky they kept her from the poor toot that was beating about on her port bow."--"The young Ballawhaine, eh?"--"Who else?"

Presently the dog went out to them, and, in default of its master, became a centre of excited interest. It was an old creature, with a settled look of age, and a gravity of expression that seemed to say he had got over the follies of youth, and was now reserved and determined to keep the peace. His back was curved in as if a cart-wheel had gone over his spine, he had gigantic ears, a stump of a tail, a coat thin and p.r.i.c.kly like the bristles of a pig, but white and spotted with brown.

"Lord save us! a queer dog, though--what's his breed at all?" said one; and then a resounding voice came from the kitchen doorway, saying--

"A sort of a Manxman crossed with a bat. Got no tail to speak of, but there's plenty of ears at him. A handy sort of a dog, only a bit spoiled in his childhood. Not fit for much company anyway, and no more notion of dacent behaviour than my ould shoe. Down, Dempster, down."

It was Pete. He was greeted with loud welcomes, and soon filled the room all round with the steaming odour of spirits and water.

"You've the Manx tongue at you still, Mr. Quilliam," said Jonaique; "and you're calling the dog Dempster; what's that for at all?"

"For sake of the ould island, Mr. Jelly, and for the straight he's like Dempster Mylrea when he's a bit crooked," said Pete.

"The old man's dead, sir," said John the Clerk.

"You don't say?" said Pete.

"Yes, though; the sun went down on him a Wednesday. The drink, sir, the drink! I've been cutting a sod of his grave to-day."

"And who's to be Dempster now?" asked Pete. "Who are they putting in for it?"

"Well," said John the Clerk, "they're talking and talking, and some's saying this one and others that one; but the most is saying your ould friend Philip Christian."

"I knew it--I always said it," shouted Pete; "best man in the island, bar none. Oh, he'll not deceave me."

The wind was roaring in the chimney, and the light was beginning to fail. Pete became restless, and walked to and fro, peering out at intervals by the window that looked on to the road. At this there was some pus.h.i.+ng and nudging and indulgent whispering.

"It's the girl! Aw, be aisy with the like! Five years apart, be aisy!"

"The meadow's white with the gulls sitting together like parrots; what's that a sign of, father?" said Pete.

"Just a slant of rain maybe, and a puff of wind," said Caesar.

"But," said Pete, looking up at the sky, "the long cat tail was going off at a slant awhile ago, and now the thick skate yonder is hanging mortal low."

"Take your time, sir," said Caesar. "No need to send round the Cross Vustha (fiery cross) yet. The girl will be home immadiently."

"It'll be dark at her, though," said Pete.

The company tried to draw him into conversation about the ways of life in the countries he had visited, but he answered absently and jerkily, and kept going to the door.

"Suppose there'll be Dempsters enough where you're coming from?" said Jonaique.

"Sort of Dempsters, yes. Called one of them Ould Necessity, because it knows no law. He rigged up the statute books atop of his stool for a high sate, and when he wanted them he couldn't find them high or low.

Not the first judge that's sat on the law, though.... It's coming, Caesar, d'ye hear it? That's the rain on the street."

"Aisy, man, aisy, man," said Caesar. "New dresses isn't rigged up in no time. There'll be chapels now, eh? Chapels and conferences, and proper religious instruction?"

"Divil a chapel, sir, only a rickety barn, belonging to some-ones they're calling the Sky Pilots to. Wanted the ould miser that runs it to build them a new tabernacle, but he wouldn't part till a lump of plaster fell on his bald head at a love-feast, and then he planked down a hundred pound, and they all shouted, 'Hit him again, Lord--you might!'... D'ye hear that, then? That's the water coming down from the gill. I can't stand no more of it, Grannie."

Grannie was at the door, struggling to hold it against the wind, while she looked out into the gathering darkness. "'Deed, but I'm getting afraid of it myself," she said, "and dear heart knows where Kirry can be at this time of night." "I'm off to find her," said Pete, and, catching up his hat and whistling to the dog, in a moment he was gone.

X.

The door was hard to close behind him, for it was now blowing a gale from the north-east. Caesar slipped through the dairy to see if the outbuildings were safe, and came back with a satisfied look. The stable and cow-house were barred, the barns were shut up, the mill-wheel was on the brake, the kiln fire was burning gently, and all was snug and tight.

Grannie was wringing her hands as he returned, crying "Kate! Oh, Kate!"

and he reproved her for want of trust in Providence.

People were now coming in rapidly with terrible stories of damage done by the storm. It was reported that the Chicken Rock Lighthouse was blown down, that the tide had risen to twenty-five feet in Ramsey and torn up the streets, and that a Peel fisherman had been struck by his mainsail into the sea and drowned.

More came into the house at every minute, and among them were all the lonesome and helpless ones within a radius of a mile--Blind Jane, who charmed blood, but could not charm the wind; Shemiah, the prophet, with beard down to his waist and a staff up to his shoulder; and old Juan Vessy, who "lived on the houses" in the way of a tramp. The people who had been there already were afraid to go out, and Grannie, still wringing her hands and crying "Kate, Kate," called everybody into the kitchen to gather about the fire. There they bemoaned their boys on the sea, told stories of former storms, and quarrelled about the years of wrecks and the sources of the winds that caused them.

The gale increased to fearful violence, and sometimes the wind sounded like sheets flapping against the walls, sometimes like the deep boom of the waves that roll on themselves in mid-ocean and never know a sh.o.r.e.

It began to groan in the chimney as if it were a wild beast struggling to escape, and then the smoke came down in whorls and filled the kitchen. They had to put out the fire to keep themselves from suffocation, and to sit back from the fireplace to protect themselves from cold. The door of the porch flew open, and they barricaded it with long-handled brushes; the windows rattled in their frames, and they blocked them up with the tops of the tables. In spite of all efforts to shut out the wind, the house was like a basket, and it quaked like a s.h.i.+p at sea. "I never heard the like on the water itself, and I'm used of the sea, too," said one. The others groaned and mumbled prayers.

Kelly the Thief, who had come in unopposed by Grannie, was on his knees in one corner with his face to the wall, calling on the Lord to remember that he had seen things in letters--stamps and such--but had never touched them. John the Clerk was saying that he had to bury the Deemster; Jonaique, the barber, that he had been sent for to "cut" the Bishop; and Claudius Kewley, the farmer, that he had three fields of barley still uncut and a stack of oats unthatched. "Oh, Lord," cried Claudius, "let me not die till I've got nothing to do!"

Caesar stood like a strong man amidst their moans and groans, their bowings of the head and clappings of the hands, and, when he heard the farmer, his look was severe.

"Cloddy," said he, "how do you dare to doubt the providence of G.o.d?"

"Aisy to talk, Mr. Cregeen," the farmer whined, "but you've got your own harvest saved," and then Caesar had no resource but to punish the man in prayer. "The Lord had sent His storm to reprove some that were making too sure of His mercies; but there was grace in the gale, only they wouldn't be patient and trust to G.o.d's providence; there was milk in the breast, only the wayward child wouldn't take time to find the teat.

Lord, lead them to true stillness----"

In the midst of Caesar's prayer there was a sudden roar outside, and he leapt abruptly to his feet with a look of vexation. "I believe in my heart that's the mill-wheel broken loose," said he, "and if it is, the corn on the kiln will be going like a whirlingig."

"Trust in G.o.d's providence, Caesar," cried the farmer.

"So I will," said Caesar, catching up his hat, "but I'll put out my kiln fire first."

When Pete stepped out of the porch, he felt himself smitten as by an invisible wing, and he gasped like a fish with too much air. A quick pain in the side at that moment reminded him of his bullet-wound, but his heels had heart in them, and he set off to run. The night had fallen, but a green rent was torn in the leaden sky, and through this the full moon appeared.