Doctor Luke of the Labrador. Duncan Norman

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ had never seen death come.

      In three weeks my rations were exhausted, and, since it would have been ungenerous in me to consume Skipper Tommy’s food, I had the old man harness the dogs and take me home. My only regret was that my food did not last until Skipper Tommy had managed to make Tom Tot laugh. Many a night the old man had tried to no purpose, for Tom Tot would stare him stolidly in the eye, however preposterous the tale to be told. The twins and I had waited in vain—ready to explode at the right moment: but never having the opportunity. The last assault on Tom Tot’s composure had been disastrous to the skipper. When, with highly elaborate detail, he had once more described his plan for training whales, disclosing, at last, his intention of having a wheel-house on what he called the forward deck——

      “What about the fo’c’s’le?” Tom Tot solemnly asked.

      “Eh?” gasped the skipper. “Fo‘c’s’le?”

      “Ay,” said Tom Tot, in a melancholy drawl. “Isn’t you give a thought t’ the crew?”

      Skipper Tommy was nonplussed.

      “Well,” sighed Tom, “I s’pose you’ll be havin’ t’ fit up Jonah’s quarters for them poor men!”

      At home, in the evening, while my mother and father and sister and I were together in the glow of the fire, we delighted to plan the entertainment of the doctor who was coming to cure my mother. He must have the armchair from the best room below, my mother said, that he might sit in comfort, as all doctors should, while he felt her pulse; he must have a refreshing nip from the famous bottle of Jamaica rum, which had lain in untroubled seclusion since before I was born, waiting some occasion of vast importance; and he must surely not take her unaware in a slatternly moment, but must find her lying on the pillows, wearing her prettiest nightgown, which was thereupon newly washed and ironed and stowed away in the bottom drawer of the bureau against his unexpected coming. But while the snow melted from the hills, and the folk returned to the coast for the seal fishing, and the west winds carried the ice to sea, and we waited day by day for the mail-boat, our spirits fell, for my mother was then fast failing. And I discovered this strange circumstance: that while her strength withered, her hope grew large, and she loved to dwell upon the things she would do when the doctor had made her well; and I wondered why that was, but puzzled to no purpose.

VI

       Table of Contents

The MAN on The MAIL-BOAT

       Table of Contents

      It was in the dusk of a wet night of early June, with the sea in a tumble and the wind blowing fretfully from the west of north, that the mail-boat made our harbour. For three weeks we had kept watch for her, but in the end we were caught unready—the lookouts in from the Watchman, my father’s crew gone home, ourselves at evening prayer in the room where my mother lay abed. My father stopped dead in his petition when the first hoarse, muffled blast of the whistle came uncertain from the sea, and my own heart fluttered and stood still, until, rising above the rush of the wind and the noise of the rain upon the panes, the second blast broke the silence within. Then with a shaking cry of “Lord God, ’tis she!” my father leaped from his knees, ran for his sea-boots and oilskins, and shouted from below for my sister to make ready his lantern. But, indeed, he had to get his lantern for himself; for my mother, who was now in a flush of excitement, speaking high and incoherently, would have my sister stay with her to make ready for the coming of the doctor—to dress her hair, and tidy the room, and lay out the best coverlet, and help on with the dainty nightgown.

      “Ay, mother,” my sister said, laughing, to quiet her, “I’ll not leave you. Sure, my father’s old enough t’ get his own lantern ready.”

      “The doctor’s come!” I shouted, contributing a lad’s share to the excitement. “He’ve come! Hooray! He’ve come!”

      “Quick, Bessie!” cried my mother. “He’ll be here before we know it. And my hair is in a fearful tangle. The looking-glass, lassie——”

      I left them in the thick of this housewifely agitation. Donning my small oilskins, as best as I could without my kind sister’s help—and I shed impatient tears over the stiff button-holes, which my fingers would not manage—I stumbled down the path to the wharf, my exuberant joy escaping, the while, in loud halloos. There I learned that the mail-boat lay at anchor off the Gate, and, as it appeared, would not come in from the sea, but would presently be off to Wayfarer’s Tickle, to the north, where she would harbour for the night. The lanterns were shining cheerily in the dark of the wharf; and my father was speeding the men who were to take the great skiff out for the spring freight—barrels of flour and pork and the like—and roundly berating them, every one, in a way which surprised them into unwonted activity. Perceiving that my father’s temper and this mad bustle were to be kept clear of by wise lads, I slipped into my father’s punt, which lay waiting by the wharf-stairs; and there, when the skiff was at last got underway, I was found by my father and Skipper Tommy Lovejoy.

      “Ashore with you, Davy, lad!” said my father. “There’ll be no room for the doctor. He’ll be wantin’ the stern seat for hisself.”

      “Leave the boy bide where he is,” Skipper Tommy put in. “Sure, he’ll do no harm, an’—an’—why, zur,” as if that were sufficient, “he’s wantin’ t’ go!”

      I kept silent—knowing well enough that Skipper Tommy was the man to help a lad to his desire.

      “Ay,” said my father, “but I’m wantin’ the doctor t’ be comfortable when he comes ashore.”

      “He’ll be comfortable enough, zur. The lad’ll sit in the bow an’ trim the boat. Pass the lantern t’ Davy, zur, an’ come aboard.”

      My father continued to grumble his concern for the doctor’s comfort; but he leaned over to pat my shoulder while Skipper Tommy pushed off: for he loved his little son, did my big father—oh, ay, indeed, he did! We were soon past the lumbering skiff—and beyond Frothy Point—and out of the Gate—and in the open sea, where the wind was blowing smartly and the rain was flying in gusts. My father hailed the steamer’s small-boat, inbound with the mail, to know if the doctor was in verity aboard; and the answer, though but half caught, was such that they bent heartily to the oars, and the punt gave a great leap and went staggering through the big waves in a way to delight one’s very soul. Thus, in haste, we drew near the steamer, which lay tossing ponderously in the ground-swell, her engines panting, her lamps bright, her many lights shining from port-hole and deck—all so cozy and secure in the dirty night: so strange to our bleak coast!

      At the head of the ladder the purser stood waiting to know about landing the freight.

      “Is you goin’ on?” my father asked.

      “Ay—t’ Wayfarer’s Tickle, when we load your skiff.”

      “ ’Twill be alongside in a trice. But my wife’s sick. I’m wantin’ t’ take the doctor ashore.”

      “He’s aft in the smokin’-room. You’d best speak t’ the captain first. Hold her? Oh, sure, he’ll hold her all night, for sickness!”

      They moved off forward. Then Skipper Tommy СКАЧАТЬ