CHAPTER X
_How Billy Topsail's Friend Bobby Lot Joined Fortunes With Eli Zitt and Whether or Not he Proved Worthy of the Partnership_
RUDDY COVE called Eli Zitt a "hard" man. In Newfoundland, that means"hardy"--not "bad." Eli was gruff-voiced, lowering-eyed, unkempt,big; he could swim with the dogs, outdare all the reckless spirits ofthe Cove with the punt in a gale, bare his broad breast to the winterwinds, travel the ice wet or dry, shoulder a barrel of flour; he was asturdy, fearless giant, was Eli Zitt, of Ruddy Cove. And for this theCove very properly called him a "hard" man.
When Josiah Lot, his partner, put out to sea and never came back--anoffshore gale had the guilt of that deed--Eli scowled more than everand said a deal less.
"He'll be feelin' bad about Josiah," said the Cove.
Which may have been true. However, Eli took care of Josiah's widow andson. The son was Bobby Lot, with whom, subsequently, Billy Topsailshared the adventure of the giant squid of Chain Tickle. The Covelaughed with delight to observe Eli Zitt's attachment to the lad. Thebig fellow seemed to be quite unable to pass the child without pattinghim on the back; and sometimes, so exuberant was his affection, thepats were of such a character that Bobby lost his breath. Whereupon,Eli would chuckle the harder, mutter odd endearments, and stride off onhis way.
"He'll be likin' that lad pretty well," said the Cove. "Nar a doubt,they'll be partners."
And it came to pass as the Cove surmised; but much sooner than theCove expected. Josiah Lot's widow died when Bobby was eleven yearsold. When the little gathering at the graveyard in the shelter ofGreat Hill dispersed, Eli took the lad out in the punt--far out to thequiet fishing grounds, where they could be alone. It was a glowingevening--red and gold in the western sky. The sea was heaving gently,and the face of the waters was unruffled.
"Bobby, b'y!" Eli whispered. "Bobby, lad! Does you hear me? Don't cryno more!"
"Ay, Eli," sobbed Bobby. "I'll cry no more."
But he kept on crying, just the same, for he could not stop; and Elilooked away--very quickly--to the glowing sunset clouds. Can't _you_tell why?
"Bobby," he said, turning, at last, to the lad, "us'll be partners--youan' me."
Bobby sobbed harder than ever.
"Won't us, lad?"
Eli laid his great hand on Bobby's shoulder. Then Bobby took his fistsout of his eyes and looked up into Eli's compassionate face.
"Ay, Eli," he said, "us'll be partners--jus' you an' me."
From that out, they _were_ partners; and Bobby Lot was known in theCove as the foster son of Eli Zitt. They lived together in Eli'scottage by the tickle cove, where Eli had lived alone, since, manyyears before, _his_ mother had left _him_ to face the world forhimself. The salmon net, the herring seine, the punt, the flake,the stage--these they held in common; and they went to the groundstogether, where they fished the long days through, good friends, goodpartners. The Cove said that they were very happy; and, as always, theCove was right.
One night Eli came ashore from a trading schooner that had put in inthe morning, smiling broadly as he entered the kitchen. He laid hishand on the table, palm down.
"They's a gift for you under that paw, lad," he said.
"For me, Eli!" cried Bobby.
"Ay, lad--for my partner!"
Bobby stared curiously at the big hand. He wondered what it covered."What is it, Eli?" he asked. "Come, show me!"
Eli lifted the hand, and gazed at Bobby, grinning, the while,with delight. It was a jack-knife--a stout knife, three-bladed,horn-handled, big, serviceable; just the knife for a fisher lad. Bobbypicked it up, but said never a word, for his delight overcame him.
"You're wonderful good t' me, Eli," he said, at last looking up withglistening eyes. "You're _wonderful_ good t' me!"
Eli put his arm around the boy. "You're a good partner, lad," he said."You're a wonderful good partner!"
Bobby was proud of that.
* * * * *
They put the salmon net out in the spring. The ice was still lingeringoffshore. The west wind carried it out; the east wind swept it in:variable winds kept pans and bergs drifting hither and thither, and noman could tell where next the ice would go. Now, the sea was clear,from the shore to the jagged, glistening white line, off near thehorizon; next day--the day after--and the pack was grinding against thecoast rocks. Men had to keep watch to save the nets from destruction.
The partners' net was moored off Break-heart Point. It was a goodberth, but a rough one; when the wind was in the northeast, the watersoff the point were choppy and covered with sheets of foam from thebreakers.
"'Tis too rough t' haul the salmon net," said Eli, one day. "I'll begoin' over the hills for a sack o' flour. An' you'll be a good b'y 'tilI gets back?"
"Oh, ay, sir!" said Bobby Lot.
It was a rough day: the wind was blowing from the north, a freshening,gusty breeze, cold and misty; off to sea, the sky was leaden,threatening, and overhead dark clouds were driving low and swift withthe wind; the water was choppy--rippling black under the squalls. Theice was drifting alongshore, well out from the coast; there was a bergand the wreck of a berg of Arctic ice and many a pan from the bays andharbours of the coast.
With the wind continuing in the north, the ice would drift harmlesslypast. But the wind changed. In the afternoon it freshened and veered tothe east. At four o'clock it was half a gale, blowing inshore.
"I'll just be goin' out the tickle t' have a look at that ice," thoughtBobby. "'Tis like it'll come ashore."
He looked the punt over very carefully before setting out. It was wise,he thought, to prepare to take her out into the gale, whether or nothe must go. He saw to it that the thole-pins were tight and strong,that the bail-bucket was in its place, that the running gear was fitfor heavy strain. The wind was then fluttering the harbour water andscreaming on the hilltops; and he could hear the sea breaking on thetickle rocks. He rowed down the harbour to the mouth of the tickle,whence he commanded a view of the coast, north and south.
The ice was drifting towards Break-heart Point. It would destroy thesalmon net within the hour, he perceived--sweep over it, tear itfrom its moorings, bruise it against the rocks. Bobby knew, in amoment, that his duty was to put out from the sheltered harbour to thewind-swept, breaking open, where the spume was flying and the heave andfret of the sea threatened destruction to the little punt. Were he trueman and good partner he would save the net!
"He've been good t' me," he thought. "Ay, Eli 've been wonderful goodt' me. I'll be true partner t' him!"