Norman Duncan - Every Man for Himself

“‘Tumm,’ says Jowl, ‘I ’low you thinks you got some rights in that raft.’

“‘I do,’ says I.

“‘But you isn’t,’ says he. ‘You isn’t, Tumm, because I’m a sight bigger ’n you, an’ could put you off. It isn’t in my mind t’ do it – but I could . I wants company, Tumm, for it looks like a long v’y’ge, an’ I’m ’lowin’ t’ have you.’

“‘What about the crew?’ says I.

“‘They isn’t room for more’n two on that raft,’ says he.

“‘Dear God! Jowl,’ says I, ‘what you goin’ t’ do?’

“‘I’m goin’ t’ try my level best,’ says he, ‘t’ get home t’ my wife an’ kid; for they’d be wonderful disappointed if I didn’t turn up.’

“‘But the crew’s got wives an’ kids!’ says I.

“‘An’ bad stomachs,’ says he.

“‘Jowl,’ says I, ‘she’s sinkin’ fast.’

“‘Then I ’low we better make haste.’

“I started for’ard.

“‘Tumm,’ says he, ‘don’t you go another step. If them swine in the forecastle knowed they was a raft ’longside, they’d steal it. It won’t hold un, Tumm. It won’t hold more’n two, an’, ecod!’ says he, with a look at the raft, ‘I’m doubtin’ that she’s able for that !’

“It made me shiver.

“‘No, sir!’ says he. ‘I ’low she won’t hold more’n one.’

“‘Oh yes, she will, Jowl!’ says I. ‘Dear man! yes; she’s able for two.’

“‘Maybe,’ says he.

“‘Handy!’ says I. ‘Oh, handy, man!’

“‘We’ll try,’ says he, ‘whatever comes of it. An’ if she makes bad weather, why, you can – ’

“He stopped.

“‘Why don’t you say the rest?’ says I.

“‘I hates to.’

“‘What do you mean?’ says I.

“‘Why, damme! Tumm,’ says he, ‘I mean that you can get off . What else would I mean?’

“Lord! I didn’t know!

“‘Well?’ says he.

“‘It ain’t very kind,’ says I.

“‘What would you do,’ says he, ‘if you was me?’

“I give un a look that told un, an’ ’twas against my will I done it.

“‘Well,’ says he, ‘you can’t blame me, then.’

“No more I could.

“‘Now I’ll get the grub from the forecastle, lad,’ says he, ‘an’ we’ll cast off. The Wings o’ the Mornin’ isn’t good for more’n half an hour more. You bide on deck, Tumm, an’ leave the swine t’ me.’

Then he went below.

“‘All right,’ says he, when he come on deck. ‘Haul in the line.’ We lashed a water-cask an’ a grub-box t’ the raft. ‘Now, Tumm,’ says he, ‘we can take it easy. We won’t be in no haste t’ leave, for I ’low ’tis more comfortable here. Looks t’ me like more moderate weather. I feels pretty good, Tumm, with all the work done, an’ nothin’ t’ do but get aboard.’ He sung the long-metre doxology. ‘Look how the wind’s dropped!’ says he. ‘Why, lad, we might have saved the Wings o’ the Mornin’ if them pigs had done their dooty last night. But ’tis too late now – an’ it’s been too late all day long. We’ll have a spell o’ quiet,’ says he, ‘when the sea goes down. Looks t’ me like the v’y’ge might be pleasant, once we gets through the night. I ’low the stars’ll be peepin’ afore mornin’. It’ll be a comfort t’ see the little mites. I loves t’ know they’re winkin’ overhead. They makes me think o’ God. You isn’t got a top-coat, is you, lad?’ says he. ‘Well, you better get it, then. I’ll trust you in the forecastle, Tumm, for I knows you wouldn’t wrong me, an’ you’ll need that top-coat bad afore we’re picked up. An’ if you got your mother’s Bible in your nunny-bag, or anything like that you wants t’ save, you better fetch it,’ says he. ‘I ’low we’ll get out o’ this mess, an’ we don’t want t’ have anything t’ regret.’

“I got my mother’s Bible.

“‘Think we better cast off?’ says he.

“I did. The Wings o’ the Mornin’ was ridin’ too low an’ easy for me t’ rest; an’ the wind had fell to a soft breeze, an’ they wasn’t no more rain, an’ no more dusty spray, an’ no more breakin’ waves. They was a shade on the sea – the first shadow o’ the night – t’ hide what we’d leave behind.

“‘We better leave her,’ says I.

“‘Then all aboard!’ says he.

“An’ we got aboard, an’ cut the cable, an’ slipped away on a soft, black sea, far into the night… An’ no man ever seed the Wings o’ the Mornin’ again… An’ me an Jowl was picked up, half dead o’ thirst an’ starvation, twelve days later, by ol’ Cap’n Loop, o’ the Black Bay mail-boat, as she come around Toad Point, bound t’ Burnt Harbor…

“Jowl an’ me,” Tumm resumed, “fished the Holy Terror Tickles o’ the Labrador in the Got It nex’ season. He was a wonderful kind man, Jowl was – so pious, an’ soft t’ speak, an’ honest, an’ willin’ for his labor. At midsummer I got a bad hand, along of a cut with the splittin’-knife, an’ nothin’ would do Jowl but he’d lance it, an’ wash it, an’ bind it, like a woman, an’ do so much o’ my labor as he was able for, like a man. I fair got t’ like that lad o’ his – though ’twas but a young feller t’ home, at the time – for Jowl was forever talkin’ o’ Toby this an’ Toby that – not boastful gabble, but just tender an’ nice t’ hear. An’ a fine lad, by all accounts: a dutiful lad, brave an’ strong, if given overmuch t’ yieldin’ the road t’ save trouble, as Jowl said. I ’lowed, one night, when the Got It was bound home, with all the load the salt would give her, that I’d sort o’ like t’ know the lad that Jowl had.

“‘Why don’t you fetch un down the Labrador?’ says I.

“‘His schoolin’,’ says Jowl.

“‘Oh!’ says I.

“‘Ay,’ says he; ‘his mother’s wonderful particular about the schoolin’.’

“‘Anyhow,’ says I, ‘the schoolin’ won’t go on for all time.’

“‘No,’ says Jowl, ‘it won’t. An’ I’m ’lowin’ t’ harden Toby up a bit nex’ spring.’

“‘T’ the ice?’ says I.

“‘Ay,’ says he; ‘if I can overcome his mother.’

“‘’Tis a rough way t’ break a lad,’ says I.

“‘So much the better,’ says he. ‘It don’t take so long. Nothin’ like a sealin’ v’y’ge,’ says he, ‘t’ harden a lad. An’ if you comes along, Tumm,’ says he, ‘why, I won’t complain. I’m ’lowin’ t’ ship with Skipper Tommy Jump o’ the Second t’ None . She’s a tight schooner, o’ the Tiddle build, an’ I ’low Tommy Jump will get a load o’ fat, whatever comes of it. You better join, Tumm,’ says he, ‘an’ we’ll all be t’gether. I’m wantin’ you t’ get acquainted with Toby, an’ lend a hand with his education, which you can do t’ the queen’s taste, bein’ near of his age.’

“‘I’ll do it, Jowl,’ says I.

“An’ I done it; an’ afore we was through, I wisht I hadn’t.”

Tumm paused.

“An’ I done it – nex’ March – shipped along o’ Tommy Jump o’ the Second t’ None , with Jowl an’ his lad aboard,” he proceeded.

“‘You overcame the wife,’ says I, ‘didn’t you?’

“‘’Twas a tough job,’ says he. ‘She ’lowed the boy might come t’ harm, an’ wouldn’t give un up; but me an’ Toby pulled t’gether, an’ managed her, the day afore sailin’. She cried a wonderful lot; but, Lord! that’s only the way o’ women.’

“A likely lad o’ sixteen, this Toby – blue-eyed an’ fair, with curly hair an’ a face full o’ blushes. Polite as a girl, which is much too polite for safety at the ice. He’d make way for them that blustered; but he done it with such an air that we wasn’t no more’n off the Goggles afore the whole crew was all makin’ way for he. So I ’lowed he’d do – that he’d be took care of, just for love. But Jowl wasn’t o’ my mind.