CHAPTER V
_From John Grant's Diary_
When I awoke this morning, I was inclined to pinch myself, wonderingwhether I was still dreaming. In a moment, however, my recollections wereperfectly clear. Yesterday evening I met people such as I should no morehave expected to find in Sweetapple Cove than in the mountains of themoon. I am glad that my idea in coming here was not to convert myselfinto a hermit; I am afraid I should have been sadly disappointed. Mr.Jelliffe is a man just beyond middle age, shrewd and inclined to goodnature. His daughter, like the rest of her sex, is probably a problem,but so far I can only discover in her an exceedingly nice young lady whodotes on her father and takes rather a sensible view of things.
It appears that they have been all over the world and, like experiencedtravelers, understand exceedingly well the art of adapting oneself to allmanners of surroundings. In no time at all they had transformed theirugly little house into quite a decent dwelling.
Miss Jelliffe is a decidedly attractive young woman. Of course I canonly compare her with Dora Maclennon. They belong to two differenttypes. The one is a bustling little woman, very earnest, determined andhard-working, who looks to the world for something which must as yet berather indefinitely shaped in her mind, and who is going to find it. Theother, I should say, has no cut and dried aim or ambition. Her father orgrandfather achieved everything for her, and she is as free as air tofollow her every inclination. Both are unquestionably good to look upon,and, at least for the present, I hope it may not be treasonable to saythat Miss Jelliffe is the more restful of the two. We men are apt tothink that the privilege of striving and pushing forward should beexclusively ours, and when we see a woman occupied with something of thatsort we are somewhat apt to resent it as an unjustifiable poaching in ourpreserves. For a long time I considered Dora's efforts to be something inthe nature of growing pains, which would disappear in the course of time.Now I am not so sure of this. Yet when I think of the dear little girl myheart beats faster, and somehow I persist in believing that a day willcome when she will drift towards me, and we will tackle the furtherproblems of life together.
I must confess I am glad to have met the Jelliffes. Barnett and his wifehave been the only people with whom one could exchange ideas unconnectedwith codfish. The parson is a splendid little chap, utterly cocksure of alot of things I take good care not to discuss too deeply with him.Moreover he is away a good part of the time, and composes his sermonswith a painstaking care which must be somewhat wasted on Sweetapple Cove.I don't believe the people are really interested in the meaning of Greektexts. When he is in the throes of inspiration none dare go near him andMrs. Barnett, the good soul, walks on tiptoe and hushes her brood. I onlymeet her at various sick-beds. In her own home she is so tremendouslybusy that I feel I have no right to trespass too often. The baby requiresa lot of care, and there are lessons to the others, and family sewing,and keeping an eye upon the little servant. Worshipping her husband takesup the rest of her time.
After I had my breakfast I left Sammy's house, where I have an officewhich would astonish some of my New York friends. I had scraped my faceand put on fairly decent clothing in deference not only to my ownpreferences but also to the feelings of the newcomers.
I was hardly out of the house before Sammy's wife came running after me.
"You's forgot your mitts," she cried. "Here they is. I hung 'em up backo' th' stove ter dry. It's like ter be cold at sea an' ye'll be wantin'them."
I thanked the good woman, telling her that I could afford to be carelesssince I had her to look after me.
"Oh! Don't be talkin'," she answered, highly pleased.
I stopped for a moment to light my pipe. Mrs. Sammy was now calling uponher offspring to hasten, for it was a fair drying day. The sun was outand the ripples glimmered brightly over the cove. The people wereclimbing up on their flakes, tall scaffolds built on a foundation oflender poles, and were spreading out the split, flattened codfish, thatwould have to dry many days before it would be fit to trade or sell.Everywhere in the settlement women and children, and a few old men unfitfor harder labor, were engaged in the same back-breaking occupation. Thespreading out always seems easy enough, for they deal out the fishy slabsas cards are thrown upon a table, but the picking and turning are arduousfor ancient spines stiffened by years of toil.
I also looked out upon the cove, where a few men in dories were engagedin jigging for squid, pulling in the wriggling things which had beenattracted by a piece of red rag, their tentacles caught upon the upturnedneedles of the jig. They were dropped with a sharp, jerky motion on theslimy mass of their fellows, all blotched with the inky discharge. Outbeyond the rocky headlands, in the open sea, the little two-masted smackswere hurrying to anchor or already bobbing up and down with furledcanvas, rising, falling and yawing to the pull of the sea. At times, bylooking sharply, one could catch the gleam of a fish being pulled in, andsometimes one could hear the muffled thump of the muckle, when the fishwas a big one.
The air was good indeed to breathe. The dull griminess of the village, soutterly dismal in the rain and fog of yesterday, had given place tosomething akin to cheerfulness. On the tops of the cliffs the scantyherbage, closely cropped by the goats, was very green, of the deepbeautiful hue one only finds in lands drenched by frequent downpours. Thesea was restless with long gentle swells which now only broke when theyreached the bottoms of the rocks which they pounded, intermittently, withgreat puffs of white spray.
The goats were briskly clambering among the boulders; the dogs lookedcheerful; the few chickens, no longer sad and bedraggled, scratched withrenewed energy. At the entrance of the cove a few gannets wheeled,heavily, while further away a troop of black-headed terns screamed anddarted about, gracefully, on long, slender, swallow-like pinions.
Even the houses, bathed in rejuvenating sunlight, looked more attractive.A few poor flowers in rare window-boxes perked up their heads. Thepuddles in the road were draining off into rocky crannies, and the veryair seemed to have been washed of some of its all-pervading reek offish.
I was thoroughly refreshed after a night during which I had slept sosoundly that Mrs. Sammy, obeying instructions, had been compelled toenter my room and regretfully shake me into consciousness. Then I hadpoured much cold water over myself and used my best razor. Coffee andpancakes, with large rashers of bacon, were awaiting me, and I soondeparted for the home of my new patient. Children called good morning,and a few ancient dames too old even for work upon the flakes noddedtheir palsied heads at me.
The house tenanted by the Jelliffes belongs to a man who is off to theLabrador, trapping cod with a crew of sons and neighbors. His wife hasbeen only too glad to rent it to these very grand people from thatamazing yacht, who have come all the way from New York, to the wondermentof the whole population, for the mere purpose of catching salmon. Hereldest daughter has been engaged as maid of all work by the tenants, andwill doubtless compensate, in cheerful willingness, for her utterlyprimitive idea of the duties incumbent upon her.
Miss Jelliffe was sitting upon the porch. Wisps of her rich chestnut hairwere being blown about by the pleasant breeze, and there is no doubt thather white shirtwaist with the rather mannish collar and tie, the tweedskirt with wide leather belt, and the serviceable low tanned shoes made avision such as I had not expected to behold in Sweetapple Cove.
She smiled brightly as I came up and bade me good morning. Her prettyface had lost the worried, tearful look of the day before. I expressedthe hope that her father had been able to obtain some rest.
"I am under the impression that Daddy slept rather better than I could,"she answered, cheerfully. "Such a concert as I was treated to! I hadalways had an idea that my father was rather appalling, but your ancientsea-faring friend was positively extraordinary. After you left I readjust a little to Daddy, and the hypnotic quality of my voice had rapideffect. After this Captain Sammy curled up on the floor, just like one ofthe local dogs, and spurned my offer of rugs and pillows with thespecious excuse tha
t if he made himself too comfortable and chanced tofall asleep he would never wake up. I went to my room to write a letterand presently the walls began to shake. You never heard such a duet."
"Is Mr. Jelliffe still asleep?" I asked.
"No, indeed! He has already clamored for his breakfast and is at presentoccupied with a bowl of oatmeal and some coffee."
Just then Frenchy came up, lifting his cap to the young lady. In one ofhis big paws he held his little boy's hand.
"Tak aff you cap to ze yong lady lak I tole you," he said, gravely. "Heemtink you a leetle sauvage."
The wide-eyed little chap obeyed the big sailor, his yellow curls fallingover his eyes. He continued to stare at her, with a fat thumb tucked in acorner of his mouth.
"Me come say heem Beel Atkins heem go aff to St. Jean to-day. Heem gotload of feesh."
"That is important news, Miss Jelliffe. Civilization is opening its armsto you," I told her. "Atkins can take letters and messages for you, andmay be trusted to bring back anything you need, providing you write itall down carefully. This is also an opportunity of obtaining othersurgical advice for your father."
"I need a lot of things," she exclaimed, "and there will be a message toour captain to hurry matters at that dry-dock. But I will have to consultmy father."
"We go to-day?" Yves asked me, pointing towards Will's Island.
"Yes, Dick needs a lot of care yet," I answered. "But you will wait hereand take some orders to Atkins first."
"Oui, orright, me wait," he said.
Miss Jelliffe had gone indoors and the man sat down on the porch, withthe little chap beside him, and they gravely watched the gulls circlingover the water. Yves is very big and rough looking, and his black beardis impressive. He gives one rather the idea of what the men must havebeen, who manned the ships of William the Conqueror, than the notion of aconventional Frenchman. Yet there is in him something very soft andtender, which appears when he looks at that child, with deep dark eyesthat always seem to behold things beyond the ordinary ranges of vision.
"Ah! Glad to see you!" exclaimed Mr. Jelliffe as I entered the room. "Abroken leg is no fun, but I can say that I got on rather better than Iexpected to. The pain has been no more than I can stand. I'll be throughwith this in a minute."
He swallowed his last mouthful of coffee, and Susie Sweetapple, theimprovised domestic, took away a flat board with which she had made atray.
"Is you real sure you got enough?" she enquired solicitously. "Themporridges doesn't stick long to folks' ribs, but if yer stummick gits terteasin' yer afore dinner time jist bawl out. 'Tain't never no trouble terbile th' kittle again."
"Thank you," said Mr. Jelliffe, as the girl left the room. "I have notyet decided, Doctor, whether that young female is an unmitigated nuisanceor a pearl of great price. At any rate we couldn't get along withouther."
In a few minutes I was allowed to inspect the broken leg, which wasresting properly on the pillow. The swelling was not too great, and thepatient declared that the confounded thing was doubtless as comfortableas such a beastly affair could be. Mr. Jelliffe possesses some notions ofphilosophy.
"A schooner is leaving to-day for St. John's, Mr. Jelliffe," I told him."It will return in a few days, depending on the weather, and we couldprobably prevail upon one of the best surgeons there to come back withit."
My patient's eyes narrowed a little and he wrinkled his brow. He waslooking at me keenly, like one long accustomed to gauging men with theutmost care.
"What is your own advice?" he finally asked.
I could not help smiling a little.
"Your fracture is not at all a complicated affair, and it looks to me asif the ends could easily be maintained in proper position. On the otherhand I am still a young man, and desire to make no special claim toeminence in my profession."
"At any rate you are the local doctor."
"I suppose I represent all that this community can afford," I replied."If I were you I would send for a consultant."
"The community doesn't seem to me to be so very badly off, as far as itsdoctor is concerned," said Mr. Jelliffe, slowly. "The other chap willcome and undo this thing, and hurt me a lot more. I'm inclined to letthings slide. This practice of yours ought to be a great thing for astout man needing a reducing diet. How the deuce do you keep fromstarving to death?"
"Mrs. Sammy feeds me rather well," I replied.
My patient smiled.
"You're a smart boy," he said. "I'll admit you don't look very hungry.But how about the appetite for other things, for success in life, for theappreciation of intelligent men and for their companionship? Is there nodanger of what you fellows call atrophy? Men's intellects can onlymaintain a proper level by rubbing up against others."
For a moment he stopped, and then went on again.
"I beg your pardon, Doctor. I'm afraid that all this is none of mybusiness. I am sure you will take excellent care of me, and I don't seethe need of sending for any one else."
"I will do my best for you, Mr. Jelliffe," I answered.
He held his hand out to me, in the friendliest way. I think we are goingto get on together very well. It is pleasant to meet people who are sosecure in their position that they do not feel the slightest need forsnobbishness.
I soon left for Will's Island, where I remained for some hours. Frenchy'sboy came with us. He's a lovable little fellow, and manifested hisadmiration for "_la belle dame_" as he calls Miss Jelliffe. He is aninfant of discriminating taste.
It was very encouraging to note a real improvement in the fisherman'scondition, and I returned in a cheerful state of mind. In the afternoon Iagain called on the Jelliffes, and was chatting with the old gentlemanwhen Mrs. Barnett, with her two oldest clinging to her skirts, put herhead in at the door and cheerfully asked how the invalid was getting on.
"I won't come in," she said, "my little chaps would soon turn the placeupside down."
"Do bring them in," urged Miss Jelliffe. "Daddy is ever so fond ofchildren."
The parson's wife accepted the invitation.
"I daresay I will be able to hold them in for a few minutes," she said.
Miss Jelliffe is certainly a bright girl. I am positive that sherecognized at once in Mrs. Barnett a woman who would adorn any gatheringof refined people. The homemade dress mattered nothing, nor the garb ofthe little ones, which showed infinite toil combined with scanty meansfor accomplishment. It was delightful to observe the positive deferenceand admiration that were mingled with the perfect ease of the youngwoman's manner.
At their mother's bidding the little fellows said their greeting verypolitely. Miss Jelliffe kissed them and at once insured their furtherbehavior by sitting on the floor with them, armed with chocolates andmagazine pictures.
"You are exceedingly kind to visit us, Mrs. Barnett," Mr. Jelliffeassured her. "I hope I may have the pleasure of meeting your husbandsoon."
"I expect him back to-morrow," she answered. "He's away on a short trip.Sometimes he goes quite a distance up and down the coast, andoccasionally it is--it is rather hard at home, when the weather gets verybad."
She looked out of the window, with a movement that was nearly mechanical,and which had become habitual during long hours of waiting.
"But he likes it," she continued. "He says it is a good work and makesone feel that one is worth one's bread and salt. And so, of course, weare very happy."
I noticed that Miss Jelliffe was studying her. A look of wonder seemed tobe rising on the girl's face, as if it surprised her to find that thiscultured, refined woman could be contented in such a place.
"Yes, I think I am getting along very well," said Mr. Jelliffe, in answerto a question. "This young man seems to know his business. I was justhinting to him, this morning, that such a village as this can offer but apoor scope for his ability."
"Gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Barnett, laughingly. "Please don't let himhear you. I have no doubt that what you say is perfectly true, but wecould never do without him now. He has only been
here a short time, andit has made such a difference. Before that we had no doctor, and--and itwas awful, sometimes. You can't realize how often Mr. Barnett and I havestood helplessly by some bedside, wringing our hands and wishing so hard,so dreadfully hard, for a man like Dr. Grant to help us. Once we sent fora doctor, far away, and he came as soon as he could, but my little Lottiewas already..."
A spasm of pain passed over her face, and there was a quickly indrawnbreath. Then she was quiet again.
"I hope he will never leave us," she said. "He may miss many things here,but it is a man's work."
"I don't feel like leaving," I told her, and she rewarded me by one ofthose charming smiles of hers.
Presently she took leave, and Miss Jelliffe looked at her father.
"Isn't she wonderful!" she exclaimed. "I can hardly understand it atall."
"It isn't only in the big places that people do big things," he answered."What about that child she referred to, Doctor?"
I told him how the little one had been taken ill, and how they had beenobliged to take her to the head of the cove, over the ice, until theywere able to find a place where a pick could bite into the ground. MissJelliffe stared at me, as I spoke, and I could see her beautiful eyesbecoming shiny with gathering tears.
On the next day, as I was doing something to the plaster dressing, shecame into the room, hurriedly.
"I've been out there," she said. "What a poor desolate place in which toleave one's loved ones. Won't you let me help? I think I am getting onvery well with my untrained nursing. I want as much practice as I canget."
"I am bound hand and foot," complained the patient. "These women aretaking all sorts of unfair advantages of me. And, by the way, Helen, Iwant you to go out more. You are remaining indoors so much that you arebeginning to lose all your fine color."
"I look like an Indian," she protested laughing.
"Then I don't want you to get bleached out. You must go out walking more,or try some fishing, but be careful about those slippery rocks. I canplay no other part now than that of a dreadful example."
"I am not going to budge from this room," declared Miss Jelliffe. "Youknow that you can't get along without me. Besides, there are no placesthat one can walk to."
"I insist that you must get plenty of fresh air," persisted her father.
"There is no fresh air here," she objected. "It is a compound of oxygen,nitrogen and fish, mostly very ripe fish. One has to breathe cod, and eatit, and quintals are the only subjects of conversation. Codfish ofassorted sizes flop up in one's dreams. Last night one of them, about thelength of a whale, apparently mistook me for a squid, or some such horridthing, and was in the very act of swallowing me when I awoke. I'm afraid,Daddy dear, that the fresh air of Sweetapple Cove is a dreadful fiction.But it must be lovely outside."
She was looking through the door, which stood widely opened, towards theplaces where the long smooth rollers broke upon the rocks, and beyondthem at brown sails and screaming birds darting about in quest of prey.
"You are hungering for a breath of the sea, Miss Jelliffe," I told her."Sammy and Frenchy are waiting for me to go to Will's Island again. Withthis wind it will be only a matter of three or four hours there and back.Could you stand a trip in a fishing boat?"
"Just the thing for her. No danger, is there, Doctor?" asked Mr.Jelliffe.
"Not on a day like this," I replied. Miss Jelliffe made a few furtherobjections, which were quickly overruled. Finally she gave Susie allsorts of directions, kissed her father affectionately, and was ready togo.
"We'll be back soon, Daddy. You are a dear to be always thinking aboutme. I know I am very mean to leave you."
"The young lady'll be well took care of, sir," declared Captain Sammy,who had come in to say that the boat was ready.
So we went down to the cove where Frenchy, already apprised that such adistinguished passenger was coming, was feverishly scrubbing the craftand soaking the footboards, endeavoring, with scant success, to removeall traces of fish and bait.
"It's dreadful, isn't it?" said Miss Jelliffe as we passed by thefishhouses. "I know that when I get back home I shall never eat anotherfish-cake. And just look at the awful swarms of flies and blue-bottles.And the smell of it all! It is all undoubtedly picturesque, but it isunspeakably smelly."
The men were busily working, and girls and boys of all sizes, and oneheard the sound of sharp knives ripping the fish, and the whirring ofgrindstones, and the flopping of offal in the water. These people wereclad in ancient oilskins, stiff and evil with blood and slime, but theylifted gruesome hands to their forelocks as Miss Jelliffe went by and shedid her best to smile in answer.
"Couldn't they be taught to be a little cleaner?" she asked me. "Isn'tit awfully unhealthy for them?"
"It is rather bad," I admitted, "and they are always cutting their handsand fingers and getting abominably infected sores. They only come to mewhen they are in a more or less desperate condition. Yet one can hardlyblame them for following the ways of their fathers, when you consider thelack of facilities. They can't clean the fish on board their littleboats, as the bankers do on the larger schooners, and there is no placein which they can dispose of the refuse save in the waters of the cove.They don't even have any cultivable land where they could spread it tofertilize the ground. It must drift here and there, to go out with theebb of the tide or be devoured by other fishes, or else it gets cast upon the shingle. The smell is a part of their lives, and I am nearly surethat they are usually quite unconscious of it. Moreover, they are alwaysharassed for time. If the fishing is good the men at work in thefish-houses ought to be out fishing, and the girls should be out upon theflakes. They often work at night till they are ready to drop. And thenperhaps comes a spell of rain, days and weeks of it, during which thefish spoils and all their work goes for nothing. Then they have to tryagain and again, with hunger and debt spurring them on. And the finestpart of it is that they never seem to lose courage."
"I wonder they don't go elsewhere and try some other kind of work,"suggested Miss Jelliffe.
"I dare say they are fitted for little else," I replied. "And besides,like so many other people all over the face of the earth they areattached to their own land, and many get homesick who are transplanted toother places. They seem to have taken root in the cracks between thesebarren rocks, and the tearing them away is hard. So they keep on, inspite of all the hardships. They get lost in storms and fogs; they getdrowned or are frozen to death on the ice-pans, nearly every spring, atthe sealing, for which they are paid in shares. This naturally means thatif the ship is unsuccessful they get nothing for all their terrible toiland exposure. Indeed, Miss Jelliffe, they are brave people and hardworkers, who never get more than the scantiest rewards. I think I ambecoming very fond of them. I'm a Newfoundlander, you know."
"Was it home-sickness that brought you back?" she asked.
"It may have been sickness of some sort," I answered.
She looked at me, without saying anything more, and we stepped on boardthe boat, after I had guided her over the precarious footing of a looseplank which, however, she tackled bravely.