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An Idyl Of Rickity Tickle
by
“‘I’ll take care o’ my soul,’ thinks the lad, that was I, ‘lest it be cast away forever, God help me!’
“An’ that’s youth–the same everywhere an’ forever.”
Tumm sighed….
* * * * *
“‘Twas high time for me now t’ sail the Labrador,” Tumm resumed, “an’ I was in a pother o’ longin’ t’ go. Sixteen–an’ never a sight o’ Mugford! I was fair ashamed t’ look Bessie Tot in the eye. Dear heart!–she ever loved courage in a man, an’ the will t’ labor, too, an’ t’ be. An’ so–‘Ecod!’ thinks I, on the way home that night, ‘I’ll sail along o’ Davy Junk, an’ prove my spirit, withal, for the whole world t’ see. An’ I ‘low that now, knowin’ me so well as he does, Davy’ll ship me.’ But my mother said me nay–until I pestered her skirts an’ her poor heart beyond bearin’; an’ then all at once she cried, an’ kissed me, an’ cried a bit more, an’ kissed me again, an’ hugged me, an’ ‘lowed that a lad had t’ be a man some time, whatever happened, an’ bade me sail along o’ Skipper Davy an he’d take me, which he never would do, thinks she. It come about, whatever an’ all, that I found Skipper Davy on the doorstep of his spick-an’-span cottage by Blow-Me, near the close o’ that day, with night fallin’ with poor promise, an’ the wind adverse an’ soggy with fog. An’ thinks I, his humor would be bad, an’ he’d be cursin’ the world an’ the weather an’ all in the way he’d the bad habit o’ doin’. But no such thing; he was as near to a smile o’ satisfaction with hisself as Davy Junk could very well come with the bad habit o’ lips an’ brows he’d contracted. For look you!–a scowl is a twist o’ face with some men; but with Davy his smile was a twist that had t’ be kep’ twisted.
“‘Evil weather, Skipper Davy,’ says I.
“‘Oh no,’ says he. ‘It all depends on how you looks at it.’
“‘But you’re not in the habit o’ lookin’—-‘
“‘I’m learnin’ t’ peep,’ says he.
“I’d no means of accountin’ for that ! ‘Foul weather, an’ no talkin’, man,’ says I, ‘for the Labrador bound!’
“‘What’s the sense o’ naggin’ the weather ?’ says he. ‘Isn’t you able t’ leave her alone, Tumm? Give her time, lad, an’ she’ll blow fair. She’ve her humors as well as we, haven’t she? An’ she’ve her business, too. An’ how can you tell whether her business is good or evil? I tells you, Tumm, you isn’t got no right t’ question the weather.’
“‘God’s sake!’ says I. ‘What’s happened overnight?’
“‘No matter,’ says he. ‘I ‘low a man haves the right t’ try a change o’ mind an he wants to.’
“‘Parson Tree been overhaulin’ you?’
“‘Oh,’ says he, ‘a man can put his soul shipshape without the aid of a parson.’
“‘Then, Skipper Davy,’ says I, with my heart in my mouth, ‘I ‘low I’ll sail the Labrador along o’ you.’
“‘Not so, my son,’ says he. ‘By no means.’
“‘I wants to, Skipper Davy!’
“‘You got a mother ashore,’ says he.
“‘Well, but,’ says I, ‘my mother says a lad’s got t’ be a man some time.’
“‘I can’t afford t’ take you, Tumm.’
“‘Look you, Skipper Davy!’ says I, ‘I’m able-bodied for my years. None more so. Take me along o’ you–an’ I’ll work my hands t’ bloody pulp!’
“”Tis not that, Tumm,’ says he. ”Tis–well–because–I’ve growed kind o’ fond o’ you overnight. We got a bit–intimate–together–an’ you–was kind. Tis not my habit, lad, t’ be fond o’ nobody,’ says he, in a flash, ‘an’ I’ll not keep it up. I’m otherwise schooled. But, damme!’ says he, ‘a man’s got t’ go overboard once in a while, whatever comes t’ pass.’