CHAPTER XXIII
_In Which the Clerk of the Trader Tax Yarns of a Madman in the Cabin_
THE trading-schooner _Tax_ of Ruddy Cove had come down from theLabrador. She was riding at anchor in the home harbour, with her holdfull of salt fish and the goods in her cabin run sadly low. BillyTopsail, safely back from Feather's Folly, and doomed by the wreck ofthe _Fish Killer_ to spend the summer in the quieter pursuits of RuddyCove, had gone aboard to greet the crew. There was hot tea on theforecastle table, and the crew was yarning to a jolly, brown grinninglot of Ruddy folk, who had come aboard. It was Cook, the clerk, amerry, blue-eyed little man, who told the story of the madman in thecabin.
"We were lying in Shelter Harbour," said he, "waiting for a fair windto Point-o'-Bay. It was coming close to night when they saw him leapingalong shore and kicking a tin kettle as though 'twas a football. I wasin the cabin, putting the stock to rights after the day's trade. Iheard the hail and the skipper's answering, 'Ay ay! This is the trader_Tax_ from Ruddy Cove.' Then the skipper sung out to know if I wanted acustomer. Customer? To be sure I wanted one!
"'If he has a gallon of oil or a pound of fish,' said I, 'fetch himaboard.'
"'He looks queer,' said the skipper.
"'Queer he may look,' said I, 'and queer he may be, but his fish willbe first cousins to the ones in the hold, and I'll barter for them.'
"With that the skipper put off in the punt to fetch the customer; butwhen he drew near shore he lay on his oars, something puzzled, I'mthinking, for the customer was dancing a hornpipe on a flat rock at thewater's edge, by the first light of the moon.
"'Have you got a fish t' trade?' said the skipper.
"'Good-evenin', skipper, sir,' said the queer customer, after a lastkick and flourish. 'I've a quintal or two an' a cask o' oil that I'mwantin' bad t' trade away.'
"He was rational as you please; so the skipper was thrown off hisguard, took him aboard, and pulled out.
"'You're quite a dancer,' said he.
"'Hut!' said the man. 'That's nothin' at all. When the moon's full an'high, sir, I dances over the waves; an' when they's a gale blowin' Igoes aloft t' the clouds an' shakes a foot up there.'
"'Do you, now?' said the skipper, not knowing whether to take this injoke or earnest.
"'Believe _me_, sir,' said the man, with the gravest of faces, 'I'm awonderful dancer.'
"I was on deck when they came aboard. It was then dusk. I noticednothing out of the ordinary in my customer's appearance. He was alarge, big-boned man, well supplied with fat and muscle, and capable,as I thought at the moment, of enduring all the toil and hardship towhich the men of that coast are exposed. The skipper handed him over tome without a word of warning, and went below to the forecastle, for thewind was blowing cold and misty."
"Oh, well," the skipper broke in from his place in a bunk, "how could Itell that he was mad?"
"Whatever, Skipper Job," the clerk resumed, with a twinkle in his eye,"I took him into the cabin, and the crew and you were snug enough inthe forecastle, where no hail of mine could reach you. It was notuntil then," he resumed, "when the light of the cabin lamp fell fullupon him, that I had a proper appreciation of my customer's size andstrength--not until then that I marked the deathly pallour of his faceand the strange light in his eyes. He was frowsy, dirty, dressed inragged moleskin cloth; and he had a habit of looking to right and leftand aloft--anywhere, it appeared, but straight in my face--so that Icaught no more than a red flash from his eyes from time to time. I feltuneasy, without being able to account to myself for the feeling; so,anxious to be well rid of him, I asked, abruptly, in what I could servehim.
"'I'm thinkin' you'll not be havin' the thing I wants,' said he.
"That touched me on a tender spot. 'I'm thinking,' said I, 'that we'vea little of all that you ever thought of.'
"'I don't think you has,' said he, 'but 'twould be best for you if youhad.'
"There was a hidden meaning in that. Why should it be best for me?
"'And what is it?' said I.
"''Tis a spool o' silk thread,' said he, soberly, 't' bind the fairieswith--the wicked fairies that tells me t' do the things I don't wantt'. If you've any o' _that_, sir, I'll take all you got aboard, for Iwants it bad.'
"'Come, now, my man,' said I sharply, 'stop your joking. I'm tired, andin no humour for it. What is it you want?'
"'I'm not jokin', sir,' said he. 'I wants a spool o' green silk threadt' lash the wicked fairies t' the spruce trees.'
"I could not doubt him longer; there was too much longing, too muchhopelessness, in his voice for that. He was demented; but there aremany men of that coast whom lonely toil has driven mad, but yet wholive their lives through to the natural end, peaceable folk and goodfishermen, and I thought that this poor fellow had as good a right totrade with me as the sanest man in Shelter Harbour.
"'We've no green silk thread, sir,' said I, 'that will securely lashfairies to spruce trees. But if you want anything else, and have fishto trade, I'll take them.'
"'I wisht you had the thread,' said he.
"'Why?' said I.
"''Twould be best for you,' said he with a sigh. 'If I could tie thewicked fairies up, I wouldn't have t'--have t'--do it. But,' he wenton, 'as you haven't any thread, I'll take some calico t' make a newdress for my brother's little maid.'
"A certain look of cunning, which overspread his face at that moment,alarmed me. I thought I had better find out what the wicked fairies hadto do with me.
"'Did you meet the fairies to-night?' said I.
"'Ay,' said he. 'I met the crew o' wicked ones on my way through thebush.'
"'And what did they tell you?' said I.
"He signed to me to be silent; then he closed the cabin door and cameclose to the counter, behind which I stood, with no way of escape open.
"'Has you got a loaded gun?' he whispered hoarsely.
"His face was close to mine. In his eyes, which were now steady, twolive, red coals were glowing. I fell back from him, frightened; forI now knew what work the wicked fairies had assigned to him for thatnight. Poor fellow! Frightened though I was, I pitied him. I saw hisdistress, and pitied him! He was fighting manfully against the impulse;but it mastered him, at last, and I realized that my life was in gravedanger. I was penned in, you know, and--they call me 'little Cook'--Iwas no match for him.
"'No,' said I. 'I've no gun.'
"'Has you got a knife?' said he.
"'Sorry,' said I; 'but I'm sold out of knives.'
"'Has you got a razor?' said he.
"It was high time to mislead him. I saw an opportunity to escape.
"'Is it razors you want?' I cried. 'Sure, I've some grand ones--bigones, boy, sharp ones, bright ones. I keep them in the forecastle where'tis dry. So I'll just run up to fetch the lot to show you.'
"His eyes glistened when I spoke of the brightness and sharpness ofthose razors. With a show of confidence, I jumped on the counter andswung my legs over. But he pushed me back--so angrily, indeed, that Ifeared to precipitate the encounter if I persisted.
"'Don't trouble, sir,' said he. 'I'll find something that'll answer.Ha!' said he, taking an axe from the rack and 'hefting' it. 'This willdo.'
"'But I'm wanting to wash my hands, anyway,' said I.
"''Twill make no difference in the end,' said he quietly.
"I speak of it calmly now; but when I found myself alone in the cabinwith that poor madman--found myself behind the counter, with nodefensive weapon at hand, with my life in the care of my wits, whichare neither sharp nor ready--I was in no condition for calm thought. Tohail the skipper was out of the question; he would not hear me, and thefirst shout would doubtless excite the big man in the moleskin clothesbeyond restraint. My hope of escape lay in distracting his attentionfrom the matter in hand until the skipper should come aft of his ownnotion. But I made one effort in another direction.
"'Did you say _green_ silk thread or _blue_?' said I.
"'I said green, sir.'
"'Did you, now?' I exclaimed. 'Sure, I thought you said blue. We've noblue, but we've the green, and you'll be able to lash the fairies tothe spruce trees, after all.'
"As a matter of fact, we had a few spools of silk thread, and one ofthem was green--a bad stock, as I knew to my cost, for I had long beentrying to dispose of them.
"''Tis too late,' said he.
"'No, no!' said I. 'You'll surely not be letting the fairies drive youlike that. You can take the green thread and lash them all up on theway home.'
"'No,' he said doggedly; ''tis too late. What they told me to do I mustdo before the clock strikes.'
"'Strikes what?' said I.
"'Twelve,' said he.
"With what relief did I hear this! Twelve o'clock? It was now buteight. The skipper would come aft long before that hour.
"''Tis a long time to wait,' said I. 'I'll make up my bunk, and you maylie down a bit and rest.'
"'It lacks but twelve minutes of the hour,' said he. 'They's a clockhangin' behind you, sir.'
"He indicated a cheap American alarm clock. It was the last of a halfdozen I had kept hanging from the roof of the cabin. I had kept themwound up, for the mere pleasure of hearing their busy ticking, buthad never set them--never troubled to keep them running to the righttime. When I looked up I was dismayed to find that the clock pointed totwelve minutes to twelve o'clock!
"''Tis not the right time,' I began. ''Tis far too----'
"'Hist!' said he. 'Don't speak. You've but eleven minutes left.'
"Thus we stood, the fisherman with his back to the door and the axein his hand, and myself behind the counter, while the cheap Americanalarm clock ticked off the minutes of my life. Eleven--ten--nine! Theywere fast flying. I could think of no plan to dissuade him--no ruseto outwit him. Indeed, my mind was occupied more with putting theblame on that lying clock than with anything else. I had determined,of course, to make the best fight I could--to blow out the light atthe moment of attack, dive under the counter, catch my man by thelegs, overturn him and escape by the door or there fight it out. Nineminutes--eight--seven! At that moment I caught a long hail from theshore.
"'Schooner ahoy! Ahoy!'
"I do not think the fisherman heard it. It was too faint--too far off;and he was too intent upon the thing he was to do.
"'Six minutes, sir,' said he.
"I wondered if Job had heard. The hail was repeated. Then I heardSkipper Job answer from the deck. At that the fisherman started; buthis alarm passed in a moment.
"'Ahoy!' shouted Skipper Job.
"'Has you got a strange man aboard?' came from the shore.
"'Yes, sir,' Job called.
"'Watch him,' from the shore. 'He's mad.'
"'Oh, he's all right,' Job called. 'He's harmless.'
"Then silence. My hope of relief vanished. I should have to make thefight, after all, I thought.
"'Five minutes, sir,' said the madman.
"Had Skipper Job gone below again? Or would he come aft? For twominutes not a word was said. My customer and I were waiting for thefirst stroke of twelve. Soon I heard voices forward; then the trampof feet coming aft over the deck--treading softly. They paused by thehouse, and the whispering ceased. Was it a rescue, or was it not? Icould not tell. The men above seemed to have no concern with me. But,indeed, they had.
"'John, b'y,' a strange voice called, 'is you below?'
"''Tis me brother Timothy,' my customer whispered. 'I must be goin'home.'
"'John, b'y, is you below?'
"'Ay, Timothy!'
"'Come up, b'y. I'm goin' ashore now, an' 'tis time you was in bed.'
"My customer put up the axe, and, with a sign to me to keep silence,went on deck, with me following. He jumped in the punt, as docile as achild, gave us all good-night, and was rowed ashore. We did not see himagain; for the wind blew fresh from the nor'west in the morning, and bynight we were anchored at Point-o'-Bay. Whether or not the fairies hadcommanded the poor fellow to kill me at twelve o'clock, I do not know.He did not say so; but I think they had."