Harbor Tales Down North Part 38

livin' jollity o' the day. Hang the morrow! says he; the morrow might do very well, he'd be bound, when it come. Show _him_ the fun o' the minute. An' he had a laugh t' shame the dumps--a laugh as catchin' as smallpox. 'Ecod!' thinks I; 'it may very well be that Sam Small will smile.' A brave an' likely lad: with no fear o' the devil hisself--nor overmuch regard, I'm thinkin', for the chastis.e.m.e.nts o'

G.o.d Almighty--but on'y respect for the wish of his own little mother, who was G.o.d enough for he. 'What!' says he; 'we're never goin' t' sea with Sam Small. Small Sam Small? Sam Small, the skinflint?' But he took a wonderful fancy t' Small Sam Small; an' as for Skipper Sammy--why--Skipper Sammy loved the graceless rogue on sight. 'Why, Tumm,' says he, 'he's jus' like a gentleman's son. Why 'tis--'tis like a nip o' rum--'tis as good as a nip o' the best Jamaica--t' clap eyes on a fair, fine lad like that. Is you marked his eyes, Tumm?--saucy as blood an' riches. They fair bored me t' the soul like Sir Harry McCracken's. They's blood behind them eyes--blood an' a sense o' wealth. An' his strut! Is you marked the strut, Tumm?--the very air of a game-c.o.c.k in a barnyard. It takes a gentleman born t'

walk like that. I tells you, Tumm, with wealth t' back un--with wealth t' back body an' brain an' blue blood like that--the lad would be a lawyer at twenty-three an' Chief Justice o' Newf'un'land at thirty-seven. You mark _me_!'

"I'm thinkin', whatever, that Small Sam Small had the natural prejudice o' fatherhood.

"'Tumm,' says he, 'he's cheered me up. Is he savin'?'

"'Try for yourself,' says I.

"Skipper Sammy put the boy t' the test, next night, at the Anchor an'

Chain. 'Lad,' says he, 'here's the gift o' half a dollar.'

"'For _me_, Skipper Sammy?' says the lad. ''Tis as much as ever I had in my life. Have a drink.'

"'Have a _what_?'

"'You been wonderful good t' me, Skipper Sammy,' says the lad, 'an' I wants t' buy you a gla.s.s o' good rum.'

"'Huh!' says Small Sam Small; ''tis expensive.'

"'Ay,' says the lad; 'but what's a half-dollar _for_?'

"'Well,' says Skipper Sammy, 'a careful lad like you _might_ save it.'

"The poor lad pa.s.sed the half-dollar back over the table t' Small Sam Small. 'Skipper Sammy,' says he, '_you_ save it. It fair burns my fingers.'

"'Mary, my dear,' says Sam Small t' the barmaid, 'a couple o' nips o'

the best Jamaica you got in the house for me an' Mr. Tumm. Fetch the lad a bottle o' ginger-ale--_im_-ported. d.a.m.n the expense, anyhow! Let the lad spend his money as he has the notion.'

"An' Sam Small smiled.

"'Tumm,' says Small Sam Small, that night, when the boy was gone t'

bed, 'ecod! but the child spends like a gentleman.'

"'How's that, Skipper Sammy?'

"'Free,' says he, 'an' genial.'

"'He'll overdo it,' says I.

"'No,' says he;' 'tisn't in the blood. He'll spend what he haves--no more. An' like a gentleman, too--free an' genial as the big-bugs. A marvelous lad, Tumm,' says he; 'he've ab-se-_lute_-ly no regard for money.'

"'Not he.'

"'Ecod!'

"'He'll be a comfort, Skipper Sammy,' says I, 'on the swilin' v'yage.'

"'I 'low, Tumm,' says he, 'that I've missed a lot, in my life, these last fifteen year, through foolishness. You send the lad home,' says he; 'he's a gentleman, an' haves no place on a swilin'-s.h.i.+p. An' they isn't no sense, Tumm,' says he, 'in chancin' the life of a fair lad like that at sea. Let un go home to his mother; _she'll_ be glad t'

see un again. A man ought t' loosen up in his old age: I'll pay. An', Tumm--here's a two-dollar note. You tell the lad t' waste it _all_ on bananas. This here bein' generous,' says he, 'is an expensive diversion. I got t' save my pennies--_now_!'

"Well, well!" Tumm went on; "trust Small Sam Small t' be off for the ice on the stroke o' the hour for swilers' sailin'--an' a few minutes t' win'ward o' the law. An' the _Royal Bloodhound_ had heels, too--an'

a heart for labor. With a fair start from Seldom-Come-By, Skipper Sammy beat the fleet t' the Funks an' t' the first drift-ice beyond.

March days: nor'westerly gales, white water an' snowy weather--an' no let-up on the engines. Ice? Ay; big floes o' northerly ice, come down from the Circle with current an' wind--breedin'-grounds for swile. But there wasn't no swiles. Never the bark of a dog-hood nor the whine of a new-born white-coat. Cap'n Sammy nosed the ice into White Bay; he worked out above the Horse Islands; he took a peep at the Cape Norman light an' swatched the Labrador seas. But never a swile got we. 'The swiles,' says he, 'is t' the east an' s'uth'ard. With these here westerly gales blowin' wild an' cold as perdition they've gone down the Grand Banks way. The fleet will smell around here till they wears their noses out,' says he; 'but Cap'n Sam Small is off t' the s'uth'ard t' get his load o' fat.' An' he switched the _Royal Bloodhound_ about, an' steamed off, with all sail spread, bound down t' the Grand Banks in a nor'west gale, with a burst o' snow t' season it.

"We made the northerly limits o' the Grand Banks in fog an' ca'm weather. Black fog: thick 's mud. We lay to--b.u.t.ted a league into the pack-ice. Greasy weather: a close world an' a moody gla.s.s.

"'Cap'n Sammy,' says I, on the bridge, 'there's no tellin' where a man will strike the fat.'

"'Small chance for fat, damme!' says he, 'in fog an' broodin'

weather.'

"'Give her a show,' says I, 'an' she'll lighten.'

"'Lighten?' says he. 'Afore night, Tumm, she'll blow this fog t' the Saragossa Sea.'

"The gla.s.s was in a mean, poor temper, an' the air was still, an'

thick, an' sweaty.

"'Blow?' says he. 'Ay; she's breedin' a naughty nor'west gale o' wind down there.'

"It seemed t' me then I seed a shadow in the fog; an', 'Cap'n Sammy,'

says I, 'what's that off the port bow?'

"'What's what?' says he.

"'That patch o' black in the mist.'

"'Tumm,' says he, 'you might tweak the toot-rope.'

"The _Royal Bloodhound_ hadn't opened her mouth afore there came a howl from the mist.

"Cap'n Sammy jumped. 'What d'ye make o' that?' says he.

"'I make a s.h.i.+p,' says I.

"He lifted his hand. 'Hark!' says he.

"Whatever she was, she was yellin' for help like a bull in a bog.

"'Whoo-o-o-oo! Whoo, whoo! Whoo-o-oo-_ugh_!'

"Cap'n Sammy grinned. 'I make a tramp cotched fast in the ice,' says he.

"'Whoo-o-oo-_ugh_! Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo-o-_oop_!'