Dialect literature, Canadian; Fishing villages -- Fiction; Newfoundland and Labrador -- Fiction; Sea stories; Short stories
“Well, now,” Tumm proceeded, “’twas three year later that Jim Tool an’
Archibald Shott an’ me was shipped from Twillingate aboard the _Billy_
_Boy_ t’ fish the Labrador below Mugford along o’ Skipper Alex Tuttle.
Jim Tool was more slow an’ solemn an’ puzzled ’n ever I knowed un t’ be
afore; an’ he was so wonderful shy o’ Archibald Shott that Arch ’lowed
he’d have the superstitious shudders if it kep’ up much longer. ‘If he’d
only talk,’ says Arch, ‘an’ not creep about this here schooner like a
deaf an’ dumb ghost!’ But Jim said nar a word; he just’ kep’ a gray eye
on Arch till Arch lost a deal more sleep ’n he got. ‘He _irks_ me!’ says
Arch. ‘’Tisn’t a thing a religious man would practise; an’ I’ll _do_
something,’ says he, ‘t’ stop it!’ Howbeit, things was easy till the
_Billy Boy_ slipped past Mother Burke in fair weather an’ run into a
dirty gale from the north off the upper French shore. The wind jus’
seemed t’ sweep up all the ice they was on the Labrador an’ jam it
again’ the coast at Black Bight. There’s where we was, sir, when things
cleaned up; gripped in the ice a hundred fathom off the Black Bight
cliffs. An’ there we stayed, lifted from the pack, lyin’ at fearsome
list, till the wind turned westerly an’ began t’ loosen up the ice.
“’Twas after noon of a gray day when the _Billy Boy_ dropped back in the
water. They was a bank o’ blue-black cloud hangin’ high beyond the
cliffs; an’ I ’lowed t’ the skipper, when I seed it, that ’twould blow
with snow afore the day was out.
“‘Ay,’ says the skipper; ‘an’ ’twon’t be long about it.’
“Jus’ then Slow Jim Tool knocked Archibald Shott flat on his back. Lord,
what a thump! Looked t’ me as if Archibald Shott might be damaged.
“‘Ecod! Jim,’ says I, ‘what you go an’ do that for?’
“‘Why,’ says Jim, ‘he said a bad word again’ the name o’ ’Lizabeth.’
“‘Never done nothin’ o’ the kind,’ says Arch. ‘I was jus’ ’bidin’ here
amidships lookin’ at the weather.’
“‘Yes, you did, Arch,’ says Jim; ‘you done it in the forecastle—las’
Wednesday. I heared you as I come down the ladder.’
“‘Don’t you knock me down again,’ says Arch. ‘That _hurt_!’
“‘Well,’ says Jim, ‘you keep your tongue off poor ’Lizabeth.’
[Illustration: “YOU KEEP YOUR TONGUE OFF POOR ’LIZABETH”]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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