Dialect literature, Canadian; Fishing villages -- Fiction; Newfoundland and Labrador -- Fiction; Sea stories; Short stories
“‘Why,’ says ol’ Bill Hulk, ‘jus’ t’ lie alongside them poor lonely
little kids!’
“I let un fall back on the pillow.
“‘I’m through, Tumm,’ says he, ‘an’ I ’low I’ll quit.’
“Straightway he quit....”
* * * * *
Wind astern, moonlight and mist upon the sea, a serene and tender sky,
with a multitude of stars benignantly peeping from its mystery: and the
_Good Samaritan_ dawdled on, wing and wing to the breeze, bound across
from Sinners’ Tickle to Afterward Bight, there to deal for the first of
the catch. Tumm looked up to the sky. He was smiling in a gentle,
wistful way. A little psa’m from his Bible? Again I wondered concerning
the lesson. “Wink away,” said he, “you little beggars! Wink away—wink
away! You been lookin’ at this damned thing so long that no wonder you
winks. Wink away! I’m glad you’ve the heart t’ do it. I’m not troubled
by fears when you winks down, you’re so wonderful wiser’n we. Wink on,
you knowin’ little beggars!”
This, then, it seemed, was the lesson.
THE END
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Every Man for Himself, by Norman Duncan
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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