"Overboard," the big man explained.
"W"at!" cried Salim.
"Dropped her."
Salim trembled. "He have-drop thee-watch?" he demanded. "No, no!" he cried. "The boy have not drop thee watch!"
"Twelve fathoms o" water."
"Oh, myG.o.d! Oh, dear me!" groaned Salim Awad. He began to pace the floor, wringing his hands. They watched him in amazement. "Oh, myG.o.d!
Oh, gracious! He have drop thee watch!" he continued. "Oh, thee poor broke heart of thee boy! Oh, my! He have work three year for thee watch.
He have want thee watch so ver" much. Oh, thee great grief of thee poor boy! I am mus" go," said he, with resolution. "I am mus" go to thee Hapless at thee once. I am mus" cure thee broke heart of thee poor boy.
Oh, myG.o.d! Oh, dear!" They scorned the intention, for the recklessness of it; they bade him listen to the wind, the rain on the roof, the growl and thud of the breakers; they called him a loon for his folly. "Oh, myG.o.d!" he replied; "you have not understand. Thee broke heart of thee child! Eh? W"at you know? Oh, thee ver" awful pain of thee broke heart.
Eh? I know. I am have thee broke heart. I am have bear thee ver" awful bad pain."
Aunt Amelia put a hand on Salim"s arm.
"I am mus" go," said the Syrian, defiantly.
"Ye"ll not!" the woman declared.
"I am mus" go to thee child."
"Ye"ll not lose your life, will ye?"
The men of Catch-as-Catch-Can were incapable of a word; they were amazed beyond speech. "Twas a new thing in their experience. They had put out in a gale to fetch the doctor, all as a matter of course; but this risk to ease mere woe-and that of a child! They were astounded.
"Oh yes!" Salim answered. "For thee child."
"Ye fool!"
Salim looked helplessly about. He was nonplussed. There was no encouragement anywhere to be descried. Moreover, he was bewildered that they should not understand!
"For thee child-yes," he repeated.
They did but stare.
"Thee broke heart," he cried, "of thee li"l child!"
No response was elicited.
"Oh, dear me!" groaned the poet. "You _mus"_ see. It is a child!"
A gust was the only answer.
"Oh, myG.o.d!" cried Salim Awad, poet, who had wandered astray in the tresses of night. "Oh, dear me! Oh, gee!"
Without more persuasion, he prepared himself for this high mission in salvation of the heart of a child; and being no longer deterred, he put out upon it-having no fear of the seething water, but a great pity for the incomprehension of such as knew it best. It was a wild night; the wind was a vicious wind, the rain a blinding mist, the night thick and unkind, the sea such in turmoil as no punt could live through save by grace. Beyond Chain Tickle, Salim Awad entered the thick of that gale, but was not perturbed; for he remembered, rather than recognized the menace of the water, the words of that great lover, Antar, warrior and lover, who, from the sands of isolation, sang to Abla, his beloved: "_The sun as it sets turns toward her and says, Darkness obscures the land, do thou arise in my absence. And the brilliant moon calls out to her, Come forth, for thy face is like me when I am at the full and in all my glory._"
The hand upon the steering-oar of this punt, cast into an ill-tempered, cold, dreary, evil-intentioned northern sea, was without agitation, the hand upon the halyard was perceiving and sure, the eye of intelligence was detached from romance; but still the heart remembered: "_The tamarisk-trees complain of her in the morn and in the eve, and say, Away, thou waning beauty, thou form of the laurel! She turns away abashed, and throws aside her veil, and the roses are scattered from her soft, fresh cheeks. Graceful is every limb, slender her waist, love-beaming are her glances, waving is her form. The l.u.s.tre of day sparkles from her forehead, and by the dark shades of her curling ringlets night itself is driven away._"
The lights of Hapless Harbor dwindled; one by one they went out, a last message of wariness; but still there shone, bright and promising continuance, a lamp of Greedy Head, whereon the cottage of Skipper Jim Tuft, the father of Jamie, was builded.
"I will have come safe," thought Salim, "if thee light of Jamie have burn on."
It continued to burn.
"It is because of thee broke heart," thought Salim.
The light was not put out: Salim Awad-this child of sand and heat and poetry-made harbor in the rocky north; and he was delighted with the achievement. But how? I do not know. "Twas a marvellous thing-thus to flaunt through three miles of wind-swept, grasping sea. A gale of wind was blowing-a gale to compel schooners to reef-ay, and to double reef, and to hunt shelter like a rabbit pursued: this I have been told, and for myself know, because I was abroad, Cape Norman way. No Newfoundlander could have crossed the run from Chain Tickle to Hapless Harbor at that time; the thing is beyond dispute; "twas a feat impossible-with wind and lop and rain and pelting spray to fight. But this poet, desert born and bred, won through, despite the antagonism of all alien enemies, cold and wet and vigorous wind: this poet won through, led by Antar, who said: "_Thy bosom is created as an enchantment. Oh, may G.o.d protect it ever in that perfection_," and by his great wish to ease the pain of a child, and by his knowledge of wind and sea, gained by three years of seeking for the relief of the sorrows of love.
"Ver" good sailor," thought Salim Awad, as he tied up at Sam Swuth"s wharf.
"Twas a proper estimate. "Ver" good," he repeated. "Ver" beeg good."
Then this Salim, who had lost at love, made haste to the cottage of Skipper Jim Tuft, wherein was the child Jamie, who had lost the watch.
He entered abruptly from the gale-recognizing no ceremony of knocking, as why should he? There was discovered to him a dismal group: Skipper Jim, Jamie"s mother, Jamie-all in the uttermost depths. "I am come!"
cried he. "I-Salim Awad-I am come from thee sea! I am come from thee black night-I am come wet from thee rain-I am escape thee hands of thee sea! I am come-I, Salim Awad, broke of thee heart!" "Twas a surprising thing to the inmates of that mean, hopeless place. "I am come," Salim repeated, posing dramatically-"I, Salim-I am come!" "Twas no more than amazement he confronted. "To thee help of thee child," he repeated. "Eh?
To thee cure of thee broke heart." There was no instant response. Salim drew a new watch from his pocket. "I have come from thee ver" mos" awful sea with thee new watch. Eh? Ver" good. I am fetch thee cure of thee broke heart to thee poor child." There was no doubt about the efficacy of the cure. "Twas a thing evident and delightful. Salim was wet, cold, disheartened by the night and weather; but the response restored him.
"Thee watch an" thee li"l" chain, Jamie," said he, with a bow most polite, "it is to you."
Jamie grabbed the watch.
"Ver" much "bliged," said Salim.
"Thanks," said Jamie.
And in this cheap and simple way Salim Awad restored the soul of Jamie Tuft and brought happiness to all that household.
And now, when the news of this feat came to the ears of Khalil Khayyat, the editor, as all news must come, he sought the little back room of Nageeb Fiani, the greatest player in all the world, with the letter in his hand. Presently he got his narghile going, and a cup of perfumed coffee before him on the round, green baize table; and he was very happy-what with the narghile and the coffee and the letter from the north. There was hot weather, the sweat and complaint of the tenements; there was the intermittent roar and shriek of the Elevated trains rounding the curve to South Ferry; there was the street murmur and gasp, the noise of boisterous voices and the click of dice in the outer room; but by these Khalil Khayyat was not disturbed. Indeed not; there was a matter of the poetry of reality occupying his attention. He called Nageeb, the little Intelligent One, who came with soft feet; and he bade the little one summon to his presence Nageeb Fiani, the artist, the greatest player in all the world, who came, deferentially, wondering concerning this important message from the poet.
"Nageeb," said Khalil Khayyat, "there has come a letter from the north."
Nageeb a.s.sented.
"It concerns Salim," said Khayyat.
"What has this Salim accomplished," asked Nageeb Fiani, "in alleviation of the sorrows of love?"
Khayyat would not answer.
"Tell me," Nageeb pleaded.
"This Salim," said Khalil Khayyat, "made a song that could not be uttered. It is well," said Khalil Khayyat. "You remember?"
Nageeb remembered.