The Cruise of the Shining Light by Norman Duncan (best free e reader .txt) 📖

isn't a man in this here fo'c's'le,' says he, 'will _say_ I'm afeared.'

"'Cook,' says the skipper, takin' the cook's hand, 'shake! I never knowed a man like you afore,' says he. 'T' my knowledge, you're the on'y man in the Labrador fleet would do it. I'm proud,' says he, 't' take the hand o' the man with nerve enough t' marry Walrus Liz o' Whoopin' Harbor.'

"But 'twas a new Moses he had t' deal with. The devil got in the fool's eyes--a jumpin' little brimstone devil, ecod! I never knowed the man could look that way.

"'Ay, lad,' says the skipper, 'I'm proud t' know the man that isn't afeared o' Walrus--'

"'Don't you call her that!' says the cook. 'Don't you do it, skipper!'

"I was lookin' at Liz. She was grinnin' in a holy sort o' way. Never seed nothin' like that afore--no, lads, not in all my life.

"'An' why not, cook?' says the skipper.

"'It ain't her name,' says the cook.

"'It ain't?' says the skipper. 'But I been sailin' the Labrador for twenty year,' says he, 'an' I 'ain't never heared her called nothin' but Walrus--'

"'Don't you do it, skipper!'

"The devil got into the cook's hands then. I seed his fingers clawin' the air in a hungry sort o' way. An' it looked t' me like squally weather for the skipper.

"'Don't you do it no more, skipper,' says the cook. 'I isn't got no wits,' says he, an' I'm feelin' wonderful queer!'

"The skipper took a look ahead into the cook's eyes. 'Well, cook,' says he, 'I 'low,' says he, 'I won't.'

"Liz laughed--an' got close t' the fool from Twist Tickle. An' I seed her touch his coat-tail, like as if she loved it, but didn't dast do no more.

"'What you two goin' t' do?' says the skipper.

"'We 'lowed you'd marry us,' says the cook, ''til we come across a parson.'

"'I will,' says the skipper. 'Stand up here,' says he. 'All hands stand up!' says he. 'Tumm,' says he, 'get me the first Book you comes across.'

"I got un a Book.

"'Now, Liz,' says he, 'can you cook?'

"'Fair t' middlin',' says she. 'I won't lie.'

"'Twill do,' says he. 'An' does you want t' get married t' this here dam' fool?'

"'An it pleathe you,' says she.

"'Shoos,' says the skipper, 'will you let this woman do the cookin'?'

"'Well, skipper,' says the cook, 'I will; for I don't want nobody t' die o' my cookin' on this here v'y'ge, an' I _knows_ that mother wouldn't mind.'

"'An' will you keep out o' the galley?'

"'I 'low I'll _have_ to.'

"'An' look you! cook, is you sure--is you _sure_,' says the skipper, with a shudder, lookin' at the roof, 'that you wants t' marry this here--'

"'Don't you do it, skipper!' says the cook. 'Don't you say that no more! By the Lord!' says he, 'I'll kill you if you does!'

"'Is you sure,' says the skipper, 'that you wants t' marry this here--woman?'

"'I will.'

"'Well,' says the skipper, kissin' the Book, 'I 'low me an' the crew don't care; an' we can't help it, anyhow.'

"'What about mother's ring?' says the cook. 'She might's well have that,' says he, 'if she's careful about the wear an' tear. For joolery,' says he t' Liz, 'don't stand it.'

"'It can't do no harm,' says the skipper.

"'Ith we married, thkipper?' says Liz, when she got the ring on.

"'Well,' says the skipper, 'I 'low that knot'll hold 'til we puts into Twist Tickle, where Parson Stump can mend it, right under my eye. For,' says he, 'I got a rope's-end an' a belayin'-pin t' _make_ it hold,' says he, ''til we gets 'longside o' _some_ parson that knows more about matrimonial knots 'n me. We'll pick up your goods, Liz,' says he, 'on the s'uthard v'y'ge. An' I hopes, ol' girl,' says he, 'that you'll be able t' boil the water 'ithout burnin' it.'

"'Ay, Liz,' says the cook, 'I been makin' a awful fist o' b'ilin' the water o' late.'

"She give him one look--an' put her clean pinny to her eyes.

"'What you cryin' about?' says the cook.

"'I don't know,' says she; 'but I 'low 'tith becauthe now I knowth you _ith_ a fool!'

"'She's right, Tumm,' says the cook. 'She's got it right! Bein' born on Hollow-eve,' says he, 'I couldn't be nothin' else. But, Liz,' says he, 'I'm glad I got you, fool or no fool.'

"So she wiped her eyes, an' blowed her nose, an' give a little sniff, an' looked up an' smiled.

"'I isn't good enough for you,' says the poor cook. 'But, Liz,' says he, 'if you kissed me,' says he, 'I wouldn't mind a bit. An' they isn't a man in this here fo'c's'le,' says he, lookin' round, 'that'll say I'd mind. Not one,' says he, with the little devil jumpin' in his eyes.

"Then she stopped cryin' for good.

"'Go ahead, Liz!' says he. 'I ain't afeared. Come on!' says he. 'Give us a kiss!'

"'Motheth Thooth,' says she, 'you're the firtht man ever athked me t' give un a kith!'

"She kissed un. 'Twas like a pistol-shot. An', Lord! her poor face was shinin'...."

* * * * *


In the cabin of the _Quick as Wink_ we listened to the wind as it scampered over the deck; and my uncle and I watched Tumm pick at the knot in the table.

"He don't _need_ no sense," said Tumm, looking up, at last; "for he've _had_ a mother, an' he've _got_ a memory."

'Twas very true, I thought.


XXII

GATHERING WINDS

'Twas by advice of Sir Harry, with meet attention to the philosophy of Lord Chesterfield in respect to the particular accomplishments essential to one who would both please and rise in the world, that my uncle commanded the grand tour to further my education and to cure my twisted foot. "'Tis the last leg o' the beat, lad;" he pleaded; "ye'll be a gentleman, made t' order, accordin' t' specifications, when 'tis over with; an' I'll be wonderful glad," says he, wearily, "when 'tis done, for I'll miss ye sore, lad--ecod! but I'll miss ye sore." Abroad, then, despite the gray warning, went John Cather and I, tutor and young gentleman, the twain not to be distinguished from a company of high birth. 'Twas a ghastly thing: 'twas a thing so unfit and grotesque that I flush to think of it--a thing, of all my uncle's benefits, I wish undone and cannot to this day condone. But that implacable, most tender old ape, when he bade us God-speed on the wharf, standing with legs and staff triangularly disposed to steady him, rippled with pride and admiration to observe the genteel performance of our departure, and in the intervals of mopping his red, sweaty, tearful countenance, exhibited, in unwitting caricature, the defiant consciousness of station he had with infinite pains sought to have me master.

"Made t' order, lad," says he, at last, when he took my hand, "accordin' t' the plans an' specifications o' them that knows, an' quite regardless of expense."

I patted him on the shoulder.

"I wisht," says he, with a regretful wag, "that Tom Callaway could see ye now. You an' your tooter! If on'y Tom Callaway _could_! I bet ye 'twould perk un up a bit in the place he's to! 'Twould go a long way towards distractin' his mind," says he, "from the fire an' fumes they talks so much about in church."

You will be good enough to believe, if you please, that there were sympathetic tears in my uncle's eyes....

* * * * *


Upon this misguided mission we were gone abroad two years and a fortnight (deducting one day): and pursuing it we travelled far. And we came to magnificent cities, and beheld the places and things that are written of in books, and ate of curious foods, and observed many sorts of people and singular customs, and fell in with strange companions, and sojourned in many houses; but from the spectacle of the world I caught no delight, nor won a lesson, nor gained in anything, save, it may be, in knowledge of the book of my own heart. As we went our way in new paths, my mind dwelt continually with Judith, whom I loved; the vision of her face, wistful and most fair in the mirage of Twist Tickle, and the illusion of her voice, whispering from the vacant world, were the realities of these wanderings--the people and palaces a fantasy. Of this I said nothing to John Cather, who was himself cast down by some obscure ailment of the spirit, so that I would not add to his melancholy with my love-sickness, but rather sought by cheerful behavior to mitigate the circumstances of his sighs, which I managed not at all. And having journeyed far in this unhappy wise, we came again to the spacious sea and sky and clean air of Twist Tickle, where Judith was with my uncle on the neck of land by the Lost Soul, and the world returned to its familiar guise of coast and ocean and free winds, and the _Shining Light_, once more scraped and refitted against the contingencies of my presence, awaited the ultimate event in the placid waters of Old Wives' Cove....

* * * * *


Judith was grown to womanly age and ways and perfected in every maidenly attraction. When she came shyly from the shadows of the house into the glowing sunset and spring weather of our landing, I stopped, amazed, in the gravelled walk of our garden, because of the incredible beauty of the maid, now first revealed in bloom, and because of her modesty, which was yet slyly aglint with coquetry, and because of the tender gravity of her years, disclosed in the first poignant search of the soul I had brought back from my long journeying. I thought, I recall, at the moment of our meeting, that laboring in a mood of highest exaltation God had of the common clay fashioned a glory of person unsuspected of the eager, evil world out of which I had come: I rejoiced, I know, that He had in this bleak remoteness hidden it from the eyes of the world. I fancied as she came--'twas all in a flash--that into this rare creation He had breathed a spirit harmonious with the afflatus of its conception. And being thus overcome and preoccupied, I left the maid's coy lips escape me, but kissed her long, slender-fingered hand, which she withdrew, at once, to give to John Cather, who was most warm and voluble in greeting. I was by this hurt; but John Cather was differently affected: it seemed