Doctor Luke of the Labrador by Norman Duncan (i want to read a book .TXT) 📕

books in the intervals of healing the sick: which, with a medicine chest they had brought ashore from the wreck, he had already begun to practice.

It seemed, then, to my sister and me, that the current of our life once more ran smooth.

* * * * *


And Jagger of Wayfarer's Tickle--the same who sat at cards with the mail-boat doctor and beat his dog with the butt of a whip--having got news of my father's death, came presently to our harbour, with that in mind which jumped ill with our plans. We had dispiriting weather: a raw wind bowled in from the northeast, whipping the fog apace; and the sea, as though worried out of patience, broke in a short, white-capped lop, running at cross purposes with the ground swell. 'Twas evil sailing for small craft: so whence came this man's courage for the passage 'tis past me even now to fathom; for he had no liking to be at sea, but, rather, cursed the need of putting out, without fail, and lay prone below at such unhappy times as the sloop chanced to toss in rough waters, praying all the time with amazing ferocity. Howbeit, across the bay he came, his lee rail smothered; and when he had landed, he shook his gigantic fist at the sea and burst into a triumphant bellow of blasphemy, most thrilling (as we were told) to hear: whereafter, with a large air (as of prospective ownership), he inspected the flakes and storehouses, heartily condemned them, wished our gaping crew to perdition, and, out of breath at last, moved up the path to our house, his great dog hanging like a shadow at his heels--having come and gone on the wharves, as Tom Tot said, like a gale o' wind.

My sister and I sat dreaming in the evening light--wherein, of soft shadows and western glory, fine futures may by any one be fashioned.

"'Tis rich," said I, "that _I'm_ wantin' t' be."

"Not I," said she.

"Not you?"

"Not rich," she answered, "but helpful t' such as do the work o' the world."

"T' me, Bessie?"

"Ay," with a smile and half a sigh, "t' you."

"An' only me? I'd not be selfish with you. Is you wishin' t' be helpful--only t' me?"

"No."

"T' him?"

"An it please you," she softly answered.

"An' we t' you, Bessie!" I cried, in a rapture, kissing her plump little hand, which lay over my shoulder, convenient to my lips. "Ay, for your loving-kindness, my sister!"

"'Tis t' you, first of all, Davy," she protested, quickly, "that I'm wishin' t' be helpful; an' then t' him, an' then t'----"

"T' who?" I demanded, frowning.

"All the world," said she.

"Very well," said I, much relieved to find that the interloper was no more to be dreaded. "I'll not mind _that_. 'Tis as you like. You'll help whomso you please--an' as many. For I'm t' be rich. Rich--look you! I'll have seven schooners t' sail the northern Labrador, as the doctor says. I'll never be content with less. Seven I'll have, my dear, t' fish from the Straits t' Chidley. I'll have the twins t' be masters o' two; but I'll sail the big one--the swift one--the hundred-tonner--ay, lass, I'll sail she, with me own hands. An', ecod! Bessie, _I'll_ crack it on!"

"You'll not be rash, dear?" said she, anxiously.

"Rash!" laughed I. "I'll cut off the reef points! Rash? There won't be a skipper can carry sail with me! I'll get the fish--an' I'll see to it that my masters does. Then I'll push our trade north an' south. Ay, I will! Oh, I knows what I'll do, Bessie, for I been talkin' with the doctor, an' we got it split an' dried. Hard work an' fair dealing, mum; that's what's t' do it. Our father's way, mum: honest scales on the wharf an' full weight at the counter. 'Twill be that or bust----"

"Why, Davy," she exclaimed, her eyes flashing, "you're talkin' like a growed man!"

"Ay, ecod!" I boasted, flattered by the inference, "'twill not be many years afore we does more trade in our harbour than they does at the big stores o' Wayfarer's Tickle."

A low growl, coming from the shadows in the hall, brought me to a full stop; and upon the heels of that a fantastic ejaculation:

"Scuttle me!"

So sudden and savage the outburst, so raucous the voice, so charged with angry chagrin--the whole so incongruous with soft dreams and evening light--that 'twas in a shiver of terror my sister and I turned to discover whose presence had disturbed us.

* * * * *


The intruder stood in the door--a stubby, grossly stout man, thin-legged, thick-necked, all body and beard: clad below in tight trousers, falling loose, however, over the boots; swathed above in an absurdly inadequate pea-jacket, short in the sleeves and buttoned tight over a monstrous paunch, which laboured (and that right sturdily) to burst the bonds of its confinement, but succeeded only in creating a vast confusion of wrinkles. His attitude was that of a man for the moment amazed beyond utterance: his head was thrown back, so that of his face nothing was to be seen but a short, ragged growth of iron-gray beard and a ridge of bushy eyebrow; his hands were plunged deep in his trousers pockets, which the fists distended; his legs, the left deformed (being bent inward at the knee), were spread wide. In the shadows beyond lurked a huge dog--a mighty, sullen beast, which came stepping up, with lowered head, to peer at us from between his master's legs.

"I'll be scuttled," said the man, bringing his head forward with a jerk, "if the little cock wouldn't cut into the trade o' Wayfarer's Tickle!"

Having thus in a measure mastered his amazement (and not waiting to be bidden), he emerged from the obscurity of the doorway, advanced, limping heavily, and sat himself in my father's chair, from which, his bandy legs comfortably hanging from the table, where he had disposed his feet, he regarded me in a way so sinister--with a glance so fixed and ill-intentioned--that his great, hairy face, malformed and mottled, is clear to me to this day, to its last pimple and wrinkle, its bulbous, flaming nose and bloodshot eyes, as though 'twere yesterday I saw it. And there he sat, puffing angrily, blowing his nose like a whale, scowling, ejaculating, until (as I've no doubt) he conceived us to have been reduced to a condition of trepidation wherein he might most easily overmaster us.

"Scuttled!" he repeated, fetching his paunch a resounding thwack. "Bored!"

Thereupon he drew from the depths of his trousers pocket a disreputable clay pipe, filled it, got it alight, noisily puffed it, darting little glances at my sister and me the while, in the way of one outraged--now of reproach, now of righteous indignation, now betraying uttermost disappointment--for all the world as though he had been pained to surprise us in the thick of a conspiracy to wrong him, but, being of a meek and most forgiving disposition, would overlook the offense, though 'twas beyond his power, however willing the spirit, to hide the wound our guilt had dealt him. Whatever the object of this display, it gave me a great itching to retreat behind my sister's skirts, for fear and shame. And, as it appeared, he was quick to conjecture my feeling: for at once he dropped the fantastic manner and proceeded to a quiet and appallingly lucid statement of his business.

"I'm Jagger o' Wayfarer's Tickle," said he, "an' I'm come t' take over this trade."

"'Tis not for sale," my sister answered.

"I wants the trade o' this harbour," said he, ignoring her, "on my books. An' I got t' have it."

"We're wantin' my father's business," my sister persisted, but faintly now, "for Davy, when he's growed."

"I'm able t' buy you out," Jagger pursued, addressing the ceiling, "or run you out. 'Tis cheaper an' quicker t' buy you out. Now," dropping his eyes suddenly to my sister's, "how much are you askin' for this here trade?"

"'Tis not for sale."

"Not for sale?" roared he, jumping up.

"No, zur," she gasped.

"If I can't buy it," he cried, in a rage, driving the threat home with an oath peculiarly unfit for the ears of women, "I'll break it!"

Which brought tears to my tender sister's eyes; whereupon, with a good round oath to match his own, I flew at him, in a red passion, and, being at all times agile and now moved to extraordinary effort, managed to inflict some damage on his shins before he was well aware of my intention--and that so painful that he yelped like a hurt cur. But he caught me by the arms, which he jammed against my ribs, lifted me high, cruelly shaking me, and sat me on the edge of the table in a fashion so sudden and violent that my teeth came together with a snap: having done which, he trapped my legs with his paunch, and thus held me in durance impotent and humiliating, so that I felt mean, indeed, to come to such a pass after an attack impetuously undertaken and executed with no little gallantry and effect. And he brought his face close to mine, his eyes flaring and winking with rage, his lips lifted from his yellow, broken teeth; and 'twas in his mind, as I perceived, to beat me as I had never been beaten before.

"Ye crab!" he began. "Ye little----"

"The dog!" my sister screamed.

'Twas timely warning: for the dog was crouched in the hall, his muscles taut for the spring, his king-hairs bristling, his fangs exposed.

"Down!" shrieks Jagger.

The diversion released me. Jagger sprang away; and I saw, in a flash, that his concern was not for me, but for himself, upon whom the dog's baleful glance was fastened. There was now no ring of mastery in his voice, as there had been on the mail-boat, but the shiver of panic; and this, it may be, the dog detected, for he settled more alertly, pawing the floor with his forefeet, as though seeking firmer foothold from which to leap. As once before, I wished the beast well in the issue; indeed, I hoped 'twould be the throat and a fair grip! But Jagger caught a billet of wood from the box, and, with a hoarse, stifled cry--frightful to hear--drew back to throw. Then the doctor's light step sounded in the hall, and in he came, brushing past the dog, which slunk away into the shadows. For a moment he regarded us curiously, and then, his brows falling in a quick frown, he laid his medicine case on my sister's sewing-machine, with never a word, and went to the window, where he stood idle, gazing out over the darkening prospect of sea and rock and upon great clouds flushed with lurid colour.

There was silence in the room--which none of us who waited found the will to break.

"Jagger"--said the doctor.

The voice was low--almost a drawl--but mightily authoritative: being without trace of feeling, but superior to passion, majestic.

"Ay, sir?"

"Go!"

The doctor still stood with