2016년 8월 4일 목요일

Happy Island 3

Happy Island 3


“All you’ve done, was wipe ’em, Benjy,” said Uncle William anxiously.
 
“I know, Williamand it’s all rightand I liked it!”
 
“You ’d pay a little suthin’,” suggested Andy.
 
“Oh, anything reasonable,” responded the tall man. “Now let’s see the
map.”
 
 
 
 
III
 
THEY bent over the table, following Uncle William’s finger. The room was
filled with light smoke from Uncle William’s pipe and the cigarette
that Bodet held in his fingers and whiffed from time to time. The dusk
outside crept in and mingled with the smoke.
 
“It’s along up here somewheres....” said Uncle William, peering at
the map“Here! Here it is!” He glued his finger to a tiny spot“They
stopped here, they saidoff St. Pierre, and then run along up through
Placentia Bay and stopped off two-three times, and back to St.
Mary’skind o’ edgin’ alongThey struck a squall hereoff Lance
Pointand that kep’ ’em back a spell
 
“The boat’s all right!” said Bodet quickly.
 
“Oh, she’s all right, I guess. They didn’t say nothin’ about the boat.
They was writin’ about the scenery and about their feelings, and so on;
but I managed to make out their courseputtin’ this and that together.
Your boat’s all right, Benjy. She ’ll stand any weather they ’ll get
this time o’ year.”
 
“Yesshe ’ll stand itwith good handling
 
“Well, you’ve got a captain knows his business.... They ’ll bring her
’round to your back door some day, safe and sound.... You ain’t worryin’
to have ’em back, Benjy?”
 
The other shook his head. “Not a bitI’m contented here.” He gave a
little puff to the cigarette and wrinkled his eyes, smiling across the
map and dreaming a little.
 
Uncle William’s eyes were on his face, kindly and glad. The pipe in
his lips gave out a gentle volume of smoke and rumbled a little down
below“You can’t find a much better place ’n this is, can you?” He moved
his hand toward the window where the dusk was coming in... and across
the harbor where the lights glowed faintlylike stars.
 
Benjy’s eye rested on them. “Best place in the world,” he said.
 
“We all like it,” said Uncle William, “Andy likes it, too
 
The green in Andy’s eye retreated a little“I’d like to see some of them
other places,” he said.... “Now, that,” he shoved his finger at a point
on the map“That’s the farthest north I ever went.” Uncle William bent
to it.... “Dead Man’s Point.” He chuckled a little. “‘Tis kind o’ rough,
Andy, ain’t it!”
 
“I’ve started times enough,” said Andy“once for Labrador and once in
a whaler ’twas going way upthey said. Seem’s if we always got stuck
or got a cargoor suthin’before we’re fairly under wayand had to turn
around and come back.”
 
Uncle William nodded. “You’ve had a hard time, Andyand I do’ ’no’s I’d
risk taking you along myselfnot if I wanted to get anywhere.”
 
Andy grinned. “You’ve been,” he said. “You don’t care.”
 
Uncle William’s eye swept the map and he laid his great hand on it
affectionately, spreading the fingers wide. “It does feel good to think
you’ve seen it,” he said, “But I’d rather be right here with you and
Benjy a-traveling this wayafter them young things, that don’t know
where they’re sailing or what kind of waters they’re comin’ toand not
trusting the Lord evennot fairly trustin’ him, so to speakjust kind
o’ thinkin’ of him as suthin’ to fall back on if a storm comes upa real
hard onekind of a tornado like.”
 
“She’s a good boat,” said the tall man.
 
“She’s all right, Benjyand they’re nice children,” responded Uncle
William, “and I hope they won’t hurry a mite about getting round the
earth.... The rate they’re goin’ nowwhen they wroteI reckon it ’ll
take just about twenty-five years,” he said reflectively.... “They don’t
say how far North they plan to make, but I kind o’ reckon they ’ll cut
across from herefrom Battle Harbor to Disco, and then skirt along down
the Cape, and up,”... His finger followed the course with slow touch and
the smoke curled about his head with deep, contemplative puffs. His eye
ran back over the course and lingered on a bit of clear water to the
North. “It does seem a pity not to go up therewhen they’re so near,”
he said regretfully, “and best kind of weather, too.”... His eye grew
dreamy“It was along ’71, I sailed therealong with Captain HallYou
know that last voyage of his? We had one eye on whales and one on the
Pole, I reckon... and the Polaris, she edged and edged, up and up. Some
days I didn’t know but she would strike the Polerun smack into it....
We ’d got up here through the Strait and up Smith’s Sound... and on
beyondthe farthest of anybody’t that timeand Captain Hall, he was for
pushing onand all of ’em, except Buddingtonhe was sailing master and
that slow, cautious kindno sort o’ timber to go after the North Pole
withbut he said we ’d winter right there’twas somewheres along in
August thenand we run back a little to a good placeand that’s where
it got its name now, ’Polaris Bay’we was the ones that named it.”
Uncle William looked at it, with the pride of possession, and rubbed his
finger on it. “Well, we stayed there.... But Captain Hallyou couldn’t
hold him still, and he was all the time sledgin’ off, one way and
anotherto see what the earth was doin’ up that wayand it run along
into Octoberthe last of the monthIt all seems like yesterday,” said
Uncle William slowly.... “I was a young fellow, you seenot more ’n
twenty-two-three, and I’d left Jennie down here, and gone up thereso’s
to make money faster.”His eye traveled about the red room... and came
back to the map... “and there we was, settin’ down up therewaitin’ for
winter and not a whale in sightand then, all of a sudden, before you
could say Jack RobinsonCaptain Hall died.... There was whisperin’s
around among the crew about the way he was took and the Navy went into
it laterbut nothin’ was proved... and Captain Buddington wa’ n’t the
kind of man you could stand up tocaptain or sailin’ master, or what, he
’d have his way... and we stayed there best part of a year. Then he said
we was goin’ homeI remember,’. if it was yesterday, the day we got wind
what he was plannin’ for. I’d been out off from the boat all day.... and
when I came in George Pelman, he whispered to me we was goin’ homeand
then, all in a minute, out there in the snow, I see Jennie’s face
looking to me and smilin’, and my eyes kind o’ blurredwith the snow
and all thatand that was the last time I see her” said Uncle William
slowly. “She died that winter.... When we got home, along in the spring,
they told me she had waitedseems ’s if she kind o’ made her body wait
till I’d comeThey said it was like her spirit died out, faint, till it
just wa ’n’t there.... So that’s the way I come to be here alone...
and it seemed pretty good when Benjy come back so, one day, all out o’
nothin’and there he was standin’ in that door....”
 
The tall man went to the window and stood with his back to the room
looking out. When he turned about, his eyes were shininglike the lights
across the water. “It was like getting home,” he said.
 
“Yes,’.was home,” said Uncle William contentedly. “Of course, any place
where you happen to be is home,but if there’s somebody there waitin’
for ye and needin’ ye, it’s more homier than any of ’em.” Andy got
slowly to his feet. “Harr’et’s waitin’ for me,” he said, “and I might’s
well go” He cast a lingering look at the table. “You boys going to sit
up all night, talking and gabbling!”
 
“Why, no, Andy. I do ’no ’s we ’ll light up,” responded Uncle William.
“I was thinkin’ of going down to look after the boats a little and then
we ’ll go to bedlike enough.”
 
“Well, good night,” said Andy, “I’ve got to go,”
 
“Good night, Andy.” They sat listening to his footfalls on the rocky
path below. “He’s a good boy,” said Uncle William. “He ’ll stan’ a
lotwithout whimperingbut he don’t know itno more ’n that cat there.”
 
Juno rose and stretched her back, yawning. Then she walked indifferently
to the door and passed outas if a summons had come to her from the
night out there.
 
 
 
 
IV
 
UNCLE WILLIAM finished the last saucepan and carried it, with careful
flourish, to the stove, where the top was piled high with pots and
kettles. He found a place for the saucepan and deposited it with
cautious touch. Then he stood back and surveyed the topply pile with
hopeful eye.
 
Benjamin, seated on a rock outside, was whistling softly. “You most
ready, William,” he called.
 
Uncle William glanced hastily toward the window, then his glance
traveled about the room. “Pretty near, Benjy,” he said. “You wait a
minute whilst I chuck two-three more things out o’ sight.”
 
Benjamin rose and stretched his long legs. The sun shone brilliantly and
the salt air was alive with the freshness of summer. He strolled to the
window and looked in.... Uncle William, on his knees by the red lounge,
was poking things under with swift, efficient touch.
 
He looked up and nodded. “Don’t you wait, Benjy. I’m most done. The’s
just two-three things got strayed around” He gathered up a plate and
saucer, with the remnants of Juno’s supper, and carried them across to
the sink. He opened the cupboard door underneath and thrust them in....
“The’s a few things left,” he said apologetically, “if I raked way in
under for ’em, mebbe. But we’ve got enough to run alongquite a spell
now.” He glanced affectionately at the stove and the rows of shining
cups and plates ranged on the shelf above the sink.
 
Benjamin’s eye followed the glance with a touch of amusement and a
little impatience, “Oh, come on, William. You ’d let things run a week
and then you ’d scrub all day
 
Uncle William’s face beamed. “That’s right, Benjy. That’s just the way I
like itnow, how ’d you know!”
 
“Well, I have eyes,” said Benjamin dryly, “and I’ve been living with you
a month or so, you know.”
 
“That’s so, Benjyand don’t it seem good!” Uncle William came to the
window and patted the thin hand resting on the sill. “I’m coming right
along, now, soon’s I get my apron off” His fingers tugged at the
strings of the big oil cloth pattern that encompassed him.
 
Benjamin’s eye waited, impatient“You ’ll get rid of all that fuss when
the new girl comes,” he said.
 
Uncle William’s mouth opened and looked at him. Then it closed and Uncle
William shook his head. “I’d clean forgot her,” he said slowly, “and
if I don’t send her word today, she can’t come for two weeksnor four,
mebbe. The boats don’t run right.” He reached up to the clock for the pen and bottle of ink that stood there.

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