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

this to conceal the crime: as often happens on our far-off coast. So we took the skipper into custody (and this with a high hand) unknown to Jagger--got him, soon, safe into the sloop: so cowed and undone by the doctor's manner that he miserably whined for chance to turn Queen's evidence in our behalf. 'Twas very sad--nauseating, too: so that one wished to stop the white, writhing lips with a hearty buffet; for rascals should be strong, lest their pitiful complaints distress the hearts of honest men, who have not deserved the cruel punishment.

Jagger came waddling down to the landing, his great dog at his heels. "What you doin'," he demanded, scowling like a thunder-storm, "with that man?"

"I next call your attention," the doctor answered, with a smile of the most engaging sort, like a showman once I saw in the South, "to the most be-_witch_ing exhibit in this vast concourse of wonders. We have here--don't crowd, _if_ you please--we have here the skipper of the schooner _Jessie Dodd_, cast away on the Ragged Edge at Wayfarer's Tickle. He is--and I direct your particular attention to the astounding fact--under arrest; being taken by a magistrate duly appointed by the authorities at St Johns. Observe, if you will, his--ah--rather abject condition. Mark his penitent air. Conceive, if you can, the--ah--ardour with which he will betray----"

Jagger turned on his heel--and went wearily away. And I have never forgiven the doctor his light manner upon this wretched occasion: for it seems to me (but I am not sure of it) that rascals, also, are entitled to the usual courtesy. At any rate, in uttermost despair we paid for the lack of it.

* * * * *


I copy, now, from the deposition of Allworthy Grubb, master of the schooner _Jessie Dodd_, Falmouth, England, as taken that night at our harbour: "The 'Jessie Dodd' was chartered by Thomas Jagger, doing business at Wayfarer's Tickle, to load fish for across.... I do hereby make a voluntary statement, with my own free will, and without any inducement whatever.... Thomas Jagger offered me, if I would put the 'Jessie Dodd' ashore, he would give me half the profits realized on ship and cargo. This he promised me on a Sunday morning in his fish stage opposite to where the ship was put ashore. After the ship was put ashore he no longer discussed about the money I was to receive.... Two days before the 'Jessie Dodd' was put ashore I broke the wheel chain and tied the links with spunyarn. I showed the broken links to Mr. Jagger. The day we were starting there was rum served out to the crew. Mr. Jagger supplied it. When the vessel started, nearly all the crew were drunk. I had the wheel. About five minutes after she started I cut the spunyarn. The vessel began to go on the rocks. One of the crew shouted, 'Hard-a-starboard!' I shouted that the port wheel chain was broken. Then the vessel went ashore.... Mr. Jagger sent a kettle of rum aboard, which I had served to the crew. No attempt was made to get the vessel off.... When I saw Mr. Jagger he told me I was a seven kinds of a fool for putting her ashore where I did. He said it would be all right, anyhow. He said they were all afraid of him. He said no one would give it away.... I am guilty of putting the 'Jessie Dodd' ashore, for which I am extremely sorry of being prompted to do so by Thomas Jagger, and to be so sadly led away into such depravity. Had it not been for such an irreproachable character, which I have held previous to this dreadful act, ten minutes after the occurrence I would have given myself up. Not one hour since but what I have repented bitterly...." I present this that the doctor may not appear unfairly to have initiated a prosecution against his enemy: though that were a blessing to our coast.

"Davy," said the doctor, briskily, when the writing was done, "I must leave Captain Grubb to your hospitality for a time. It will be necessary for me to go south to the cable station at Chateau. The support of Lloyds--since Jagger has influence at St. Johns--will be invaluable in this case."

He set sail in the sloop next day.

It was now late in the fall of the year. Young slob ice was forming by night in the quiet places of the harbour. The shiver of winter was everywhere abroad.... For a week the weather continued ominous--with never a glint of sunshine to gladden us. Drear weather, treacherous--promising grief and pain. Off shore, the schooners of the great fleet crept by day to the s'uth'ard, harbouring by night: taking quick advantage of the variable winds, as chance offered. 'Twas thus that the doctor returned to our harbour; and there he was held, from day to day, by vicious winds, which the little sloop could not carry, by great, black seas, which she could not ride.... One day, being ill at ease, we went to the Watchman, that we might descry the first favourable sign. In the open, the wind was still to the north of east--but wildly capricious: blowing hither and thither; falling, too, to a sigh, rising, all at once, to a roaring gust, which tore at the whisps of grass and fairly sucked the breath from one's body. Overhead, the sky was low and tumultuous; great banks of black cloud, flecked with gray and white--ragged masses--went flying inland, as in a panic. There was no quiet light in the east, no clean air between; 'twas everywhere thick--everywhere sullen.... We left the Watchman downcast--each, too, preoccupied. In my heart was the heavy feeling that some sad thing was about to befall us....

* * * * *


I must tell, now, that, before the smallpox came to Poor Luck Harbour, the doctor had chartered the thirty-ton _Trap and Seine_ for our business: with which Skipper Tommy Lovejoy and the twins, with four men of our harbour, had subsequently gone north to Kidalik, where the fishing was reported good beyond dreams. 'Twas time for the schooner to be home. She was long overdue; and in great anxiety we awaited her return or news of her misfortune: the like of which often happens on our coast, where news proceeds only by word of mouth. 'Twas in part in hope of catching sight of her barked topsail that we had gone to the Watchman. But at that moment the _Trap and Seine_ lay snug at anchor in Wayfarer's Tickle: there delayed for more civil weather in which to attempt the passage of the Bay, for she was low in the water with her weight of fish, and Skipper Tommy had a mind to preserve his good fortune against misadventure. And, next day, the wind being still unfavourable, he had Timmie row him ashore, that he might pass an hour in talk with the men on Jagger's wharf: for there was nothing better to do, and the wreck of the _Jessie Dodd_ was food of the choicest for water-side gossip. To him, by and by, came Jagger's clerk: begging that the _Trap and Seine_ might be got under weigh for our harbour within the hour, for Jagger lay near death (having been taken in the night) and sorely needed the doctor, lest he die.

"Die!" cried Skipper Tommy, much distressed. "That's fair awful. Poor man! So sick as that?"

"Ay," the clerk replied, with a sharp little look into Skipper Tommy's mild eyes, "he'll die."

"Ecod!" the skipper declared. "'Twill make the doctor sad t' know it!"

Skipper Tommy remembers that the clerk turned away, as if, for some strange reason, to get command of himself.

"That he will," said the clerk.

"'Tis awful!" the skipper repeated. "I'll get the schooner t' sea this minute. She's wonderful low in the water," he mused, pulling at his nose; "but I'm thinkin' the doctor would rather save a life than get a cargo o' green fish t' harbour."

"Dying, tell him," the clerk urged, smoothing his mouth with a lean hand. "Dying--and in terror of hell."

"Afeared o' hell?"

"Gone mad with fear of damnation."

Skipper Tommy raised his hands. "That's awful!" he muttered, with a sad shake of the head. "Tell that poor man the doctor will come. Tell un, oh, tell un," he added, wringing his hands, "_not_ t' be afeared o' hell!"

"Yes, yes!" the clerk exclaimed, impatiently. "Don't forget the message. Jagger lies sick, and dying, and begging for help."

Skipper Tommy made haste to the small boat, the while raising a cry for Timmie, who had gone about his own pleasure, the Lord knew where! And Timmie ran down the path, as fast as his sea-boots would go: but was intercepted by Jonas Jutt, who drew him into the lower fish-stage, as though in fear of observation, and there whispered the circumstances of the departure of the _Trap and Seine_.

"But do you tell your father," he went on, "that Jagger's not sick."

"Not sick?" cried Timmie, under his breath.

"Tell your father that I heared Jagger say he'd prove the doctor a coward or drown him."

Timmie laughed.

"Tell un," Jonas whispered, speaking in haste and great excitement, "that Jagger's as hearty drunk as ever he was--loaded t' the gunwale with rum an' hate--in dread o' the trade o' broom-makin'--desperate t' get clear o' the business o' the _Jessie Dodd_. Tell un he wants t' drown the doctor atween your harbour an' Wayfarer's Tickle. Tell un t' give no heed t' the message. Tell un t'----"

"Oh, Lard!" Timmie gurgled, in a spasm of delight.

"Tell un t' have the doctor stay at home 'til the weather lifts. Tell un----"

In response to an urgent call from the skipper, who was waiting at the small-boat, Timmie ran out. As he stumbled down the path, emitting guffaws and delicious chuckles, he conceived--most unhappily for us all--an infinitely humorous plan, which would still give him the delight of a rough passage to our harbour: for Timmie loved a wet deck and a reeling beat to windward, under a low, driving sky, with the night coming down, as few lads do. Inform the skipper? Not Timmie! Nor would he tell even Jacky. He would disclose the plot at a more dramatic moment. When the beat was over--when the schooner had made harbour--when the anchor was down--when the message was delivered--in the thick of the outcry of protest against the doctor's high determination to venture upon the errand of mercy--_then_ Timmie Lovejoy, the dramatic opportunity having come, would, with proper regard for his own importance, make the astounding revelation. It would be quite thrilling (he thought); moreover, it would be a masterly joke on his father, who took vast delight in such things.

"The wind's veerin' t' the s'uth'ard," said the skipper, anxiously, while they put a double reef in the mainsail. "'Twill be a rough time across."

"Hut! dad," Timmie answered. "Sure, _you_ can make harbour."

"Ecod!" Jacky added, with a grin. "You're the man t' do it, dad--_you're_ the man t' drive her!"

"Well, lads," the flattered skipper admitted, resting from the wrestle with the obstinate sail, and giving his nose a pleased sort of tweak, "I isn't