"Sure, mama," said I, in surprise, "I"m sittin" right by the bed!"
"Ah, Davy!" she whispered, happily, stretching out a hand to touch me.
"My little son!"
"An" I been sittin" here all the time!" said I.
"All the time?" she said. "But I"ve been so sick, dear, I haven"t noticed much. And "tis so dark."
"No, mum; "tis not so very. "Tis thick, but "tis not so very dark. "Tis not lamp-lightin" time yet."
"How strange!" she muttered. "It seems so very dark. Ah, well! Do you go out for a run in the air, dear, while your mother sleeps. I"m thinking I"ll be better--when I"ve had a little sleep."
My sister busied herself with the pillows and coverlet; and she made all soft and neat, that my mother might rest the better for it.
"You"re so tender with me, dear," said my mother "Every day I bless G.o.d for my dear daughter."
My sister kissed my mother. "Hush!" she said. "Do you go t" sleep, now, little mother. Twill do you good."
"Yes," my mother sighed, "for I"m--so very--tired."
When she had fallen asleep, I slung my lantern over my arm and scampered off to the Rat Hole to yarn with the twins, making what speed I could in the fog and untimely dusk, and happy, for the moment, to be free of the brooding shadow in our house. The day was not yet fled; but the light abroad--a sullen greyness, splashed with angry red in the west, where the mist was thinning--was fading fast and fearfully. And there was an ominous stirring of wind in the east: at intervals, storm puffs came swirling over the hills from the sea; and they ran off inland like mad, leaving the air of a sudden once more stagnant. Fresh and cool they were--grateful enough, indeed, blowing through the thick, dead dusk--but sure warning, too, of great gusts to come. We were to have weather--a gale from the northeast, by all the lore of the coast--and it would be a wild night, with the breakers of Raven Rock and the Thirty Black Devils leaping high and merrily in the morning. As I ran down the last hill, with an eye on the light glowing in the kitchen window of Skipper Tommy Lovejoy"s cottage, I made shift to hope that the old man had made harbour from Wolf Cove, but thought it most unlikely.
He had.
"You got home, Skipper Tommy," I cried, shouldering the door shut against a gust of wind, "an" I"m glad o" that! "Tis goin" t" blow most awful, I"m thinkin"."
My welcome was of the gloomiest description. I observed that the twins, who lay feet to feet on the corner-seat, did not spring to meet me, but were cast down; and that Skipper Tommy, himself, sitting over the fire with a cup of tea on the table at his elbow, was glum as a deacon.
"Oh," said he, looking up with the ghost of a laugh, "I got in. You wasn"t frettin" about _me_, was you, Davy? Oh, don"t you ever go frettin" about me, lad, when--ah, well!--when they"s nothin" but fog t"
fear. Sure, "twasn"t no trouble for _me_ t" find North Tickle in the fog. Ah, me! If "twas only that! Sure, I b.u.mped her nose agin the point o" G.o.d"s Warning, an" rattled her bones a bit, but, lad, me an" the punt is used t" little things like that. Oh, ay," he repeated, dismally, "I got _in_."
Evidently the worst had happened. "Did you?" said I, blankly. "An" was you--was you--_cotched_?"
"Is you thinkin" o" _she_, Davy?" he answered. "Well," in a melancholy drawl, smoothing his stubble of grey beard, his forehead deeply furrowed, "I"m not admittin" I is. But, Davy," he added, "she cast a hook, an"--well, I--I nibbled. Yes, I did, lad! I went an" nibbled!"
One of the twins started up in alarm. "Hark!" he whispered.
We listened--but heard nothing. A gust of wind rattled the window, and, crying hoa.r.s.ely, swept under the house. There was nothing more than that.
"Hist!" said the twin.
We heard only the ominous mutter and sigh of the gust departing.
"Jacky," said the skipper, anxiously, "what was you thinkin" you heared, b"y?"
Jacky fidgetted in his seat. ""Twas like the mail-boat"s whistle, zur,"
he answered, "but "twas sort o" hoa.r.s.er."
"Why, lad," said the skipper, "the mail-boat"s not handy by two hundred miles! "Twas but the wind."
But he scratched his head in a puzzled way.
"Ay, maybe, zur," Jacky replied, still alert for a sound from the sea, "but "twas not _like_ the wind."
Skipper Tommy held up his hand. "Ay," said he, when we had listened a long time, ""twas but the wind."
"Ay," said we all, ""twas but the wind."
"Ah, well, Davy," the skipper resumed, "she cast a hook, as I was sayin", an" I nibbled."
The twins groaned in concert.
"But the good Lard, Davy," the skipper went on, "had sent a switch o"
wind from the sou"west. So they was a bit o" lop on the sea, an" "twas t" that I turned, when the case got desperate. An" desperate it soon got, lad. Ah, indeed! "long about Herring Head it got fair desperate.
"Skipper Thomas," says she, "we"re gettin" old, you an" me," says she.
"Sure, mum," says I, "not _you_, mum! I"ll never give in t" that," says I."
Our faces fell.
""Twas what I done," the skipper persisted, with an air of guilt and remorse. "I just, felt like doin" it, an" so I done it. "I"ll never give in to it, mum," says I, "that _you"re_ gettin" old.""
I groaned with the twins--and Skipper Tommy made a dismal quartette of it--and the wind, rising sharply at that moment, contributed a chorus of heartrending noises.
"Ay," the skipper continued, ""twas a sad mistake. "Twas floutin"
Providence t" say a word like that to a woman like she. But I just felt like it. Then, "Oh, dear," says she, ""tis barb"rous lonely t" Wolf Cove," says she. ""Tis too bad, mum," says I. An" I throwed the bow o"
the punt plump into a wave, Davy, lad, an" shipped a bucket o" water.
"An"," says she, "it must be lonely for you, Skipper Thomas," says she, "livin" there at the Rat Hole.""
Skipper Tommy paused to sigh and tweak his nose; and he tweaked so often and sighed so long that I lost patience.
"An" what did you do then?" I demanded.
"Took in more water, Davy," he groaned, "for they wasn"t nothin" else I could think of. "An"," says she, "is it not lonely, Skipper Thomas,"
says she, "at the Rat Hole?" "No, mum," says I, takin" aboard another bucket or two, "for I"ve the twins," says I. With that she put her kerchief to her eyes, Davy, an" begun t" sniffle. An" t" relieve me feelin"s, lad, for I was drove desperate, I just _had_ t" let the top of a wave fall over the bow: which I done, Davy, an" may the Lard forgive me! An" I"m not denyin" that "twas a sizable wave she took."
He stared despondently at the floor.
"She gathered up her skirts," he went on. "An", "Ah, Skipper Thomas,"
says she, "twins," says she, "is nothin". "Sure," says she, "twins is no good on a cold winter"s night." I"m not denyin", Davy," said the skipper, solemnly, looking me straight in the eye, "that she scared me with that. I"m not denyin" that me hand slipped. I"m not denyin" that I put the tiller over a _wee bit_ too far--maybe a foot--maybe a foot an"
a half, in the excitement o" the moment--I isn"t quite sure. No, no! I"m far, lad, from denyin" that I near swamped the boat. ""Tis gettin"
rough," says she. "Ay," says I, "an" we"ll be gettin" along a deal better, mum," says I, "if you bail." So I kep" her bailin", Davy," the skipper concluded, with a long sigh and a sad wag of the head, "from Herring Head t" Wolf Cove. An", well, lad, she didn"t quite cotch me, for she hadn"t no time t" waste, but, as I was sayin", she cast a hook."
"You"re well rid o" she," said I.
Timmie rose to look out of the window. "Hear the wind!" said he, turning in awe, while the cottage trembled under the rush of a gust. "My! but "twill blow, the night!"
"Ah, Timmie," sighed the skipper, "what"s a gale o" wind t" the snares o" women!"