Sweetapple Cove Page 13

  CHAPTER XIII

  _From John Grant's Diary_

  During the years that I spent abroad, in study, there were times when atremendous longing would come over me, so great that I was sorely temptedto run away, even if for a few weeks only, and revel in the satisfactionof my desire. It would seize upon me during long evenings, when I wassometimes a little wearied with hard work. I hungered at such times forthe smoke of a camp-fire, for its resinous smells, for the distant callsof night birds, for the crackling flames that cast strange lights uponfriendly faces.

  All this was ours on the evening we spent after our little caribou hunt.Miss Jelliffe, who had had some slight experience with small targetrifles, made a good shot at a fine stag, and we were all very cheerful.The fire burned brightly before the tent she shared with Susie, and thedry dead pine with logs of long-burning birch crackled merrily. Over thelittle lake, behind the dark conifers and the distant hills, the sun hadgone down in a glory of incandescent gold and crimson.

  After we had finished our supper we all sat around the blaze and thetales began, of big caribou and mighty salmon. Yet after a time, asone always must in this country, we drifted off to stories of thenever-ending fight against mighty powers.

  Very simply, in brief sentences, with short intervals to permit of moreaccurate recollection, good old Sammy opened to us vistas of unendingfields of ice whereupon men slew the harp-seals, and pictured to us themanner in which the toll of death sometimes turns against the slayers. Healso spoke of fishing schooners tossed by fierce gales, drifting by theside of mountainous bergs of ice rimmed with foam from the billows lashedin fury, and of seams that had opened as the ship spewed off its creepingoakum. I am sure we could all see the men at the pumps, working untiltheir stiffened arms and frozen hands refused the bidding of brainsbenumbed by cold and hunger.

  "Yes, ma'am, it's hard, mighty hard, times and times, but when yer getsthrough wid it ye'll still be there, if yer has luck, and them as doesn'tget ketched gets back ter th' wife an' young, 'uns, an' is thankful theykin start all over again."

  I saw how interested Miss Jelliffe was, and did my best to draw the manout. Like most real fighters he was little inclined to live his owncombats over again, yet when he was once started it took little effort tokeep him going. After this I questioned Frenchy, very carefully, for heis even less inclined than the other fishermen to talk about himself. Ihave never known the secret, if there be one, in the life of this man,alone of his people on this shore, with that child of his. He is alwaysever so friendly, and looks at one with big, dog-like, trusting eyes, butI have never sought to obtain a confidence he does not seem to be willingto bestow on any one. For this reason I merely asked him whether he hadtraveled much in foreign lands, as a sailor.

  Then, as he puffed quietly at his pipe, the man gradually expanded just alittle, though never speaking of anything he had personally accomplished.His tales, contrasting with Sammy's, took us to hot countries, with namesthat were rather vague to us.

  He led us up some rivers tenanted by strange beasts wallowing in fetidmud which, when disturbed, sent forth bubbles that burst with foul odors,and made more unbearable the tepid moisture one had to breathe. Hostile,yellow people in strange garb slunk along the banks, hiding behindbamboos and watching the boats rowed by white men nearly succumbing tothe torpor of the misty heat, while pulling with arms enfeebled by thefevers of what he called _La Riviere Rouge_. There had been fighting,nights and days of it, and once he had forgotten everything and awakenedon board a ship that was out of sight of land. Now the trade winds wereblowing, and many of the sick and wounded felt better, yet the greatsharks kept on following because of the long bundles that were dailydropped overboard, done up in sail cloth and weighted at the feet. Andwhen one arrived in port there were poor old women who called forJean-Marie and for Joseph, and who sank fainting on the docks. But otherswere happy.

  I could see that Miss Jelliffe was deeply interested in these tales ofthings related very simply, very naturally, as if the sailor had spokenof catching squid or under-running trawls. She wondered, as I did, whythis man who had sailed so many seas should have drifted here and takenup his life in a strange land with the little yellow-haired boy in whichhis heart was enwrapped.

  Sammy and Susie listened open-mouthed to those tales of things they couldnot realize or understand, for they could make little out of them, sincethe man was often hard pushed for words, using a good many from his owntongue.

  "Why don't you go back to your own country?" asked Miss Jelliffe, verysoftly.

  But he made no answer, pretending not to have heard her question. For aninstant she looked at him, then turned her head away. I also saw that astrange moisture had gathered in the big man's eyes, lighted as they wereby the flames into which he peered, as if seeking in them lost thingsthat were past redeeming.

  For some time we all remained very silent, as if oppressed by the awe ofthese tales, and I had to take a desperate measure to change the trend ofthought. In a low voice I began to sing a lilting Irish melody with asweet refrain in which Miss Jelliffe joined, soon followed by Sammy'sdeep tones and Susie's shrill ones, while Frenchy began to keep time witha blackened pot-stick.

  So it was only a few minutes before cheerful thoughts returned to us, asthe darkness deepened and the stars glittered, clear and close at hand.Then we finally said good-night and Miss Jelliffe sought her tent,attended by Susie.

  We men went away to our lean-to, and talked a little longer beforestretching out for a sound night's sleep. And it seemed but a fewinstants before we were up again, with the sunlight beginning to streamover the distant hillocks towards the sea that was now hidden from us. Itook my rod to the outlet, where trout were rising, and returned soon tofind that coffee was being made while the men were cutting bacon andchopping more wood.

  Then Susie came to us, wanting some hot water and hurriedly returning tothe tent. Finally the flaps were turned aside and the young woman cameout, rosy of cheek and bright-eyed. Susie had a small fire before hertent, and Miss Jelliffe held her hands before it for a moment. When shecame towards us I was kneeling on a small rock at the water's edge,cleaning trout, while Frenchy was scraping away at the caribou head, thescalp of which hung over a pole, to dry a little after a good salting.Sammy was smiting away at an old pine log for more firewood.

  "Good morning," she cried. "It is a perfect shame that you allowed me tosleep so long. Oh! The beautiful trout! Where did you get them?"

  I explained my capture, and told her that a few moments had been enoughto secure all that were needed for all hands. The two men grinned at herdelightedly, as she went up to them, happy and smiling, and she had toinform them that she had spent a wonderful night of such sleep as no onecould possibly get outside of the wilderness.

  "Isn't it all lovely and cheerful!" she exclaimed. "Now I insist on beinguseful too. Won't you let me fry the trout?"

  She knelt by the fire, holding a frying pan whose hollow handle had beenfitted with a long stick. The big dab of butter soon melted, and in amoment the trout were crepitating and curling up in the pan, sendingforth heavenly odors.

  "We can take our time," I told her, "for we will not look for anotherstag to-day. All that meat is going to make a heavy load to take back."

  "But it is a shame," she said, contritely. "You were going for a hunt,and now that I have killed the stag you won't have any sport at all."

  "I have had as good sport as any man has the right to expect," I said."Please don't believe that it all lies in pulling a trigger. It is justthis sort of thing that makes hunting glorious; the cheery fire and theflapping tent doors, the breeze ruffling the lake, the sitting at nightby the fire and the tales we heard there. I will agree never to kill acaribou again if you will only furnish me with such sport as this fromtime to time."

  "I was just thinking," she said, "that I am a law-breaker. I have nolicense to kill caribou."

  "I have no doubt that you may be forgiven if you will send the money toSt. John's and apply f
or a license. Then you can shoot two more, with aneasy conscience."

  "I will certainly send it," she replied, "but you ought to keep thathead, you know."

  "No indeed, it is yours, and you must take it back with you to bemounted. If I should ever return to New York I will ask you to allow meto have a look at it."

  "I shall never forgive you if you don't call," she answered, charmingly."But don't speak just now of going back to New York. I don't think Ishall ever leave a place with such regret. I simply refuse to think ofit."

  It was really delightful to see this splendid girl, brought up in themost refined surroundings and yet so influenced by the glamour of theoutdoor life. To the strong and healthful there can be no attraction ingreat towns that may not be dwarfed by the great pulsing of the landssought by the lovers of rod and gun. Here she had gathered new ideas andunwonted thoughts. She is the best example I have ever seen of thesturdy, beautiful girlhood of modern life, and is an utter pleasure tolook upon.

  After a time we started towards Sweetapple Cove. The meat, or as much ofit as we could carry, had all been tied up in packs. I was able to take agood load of it and Susie trudged along, bearing the big caribou headupon her shoulders.

  "'Tain't much the weight on it," she said, "but it's clumsy. Them men hasall they kin lug an' I'm a goin' ter hoof it erlong wid this, jest tershow willing."

  Walking back seemed quite a different thing. After leaving the littlelake we had climbed up, but now we were again on the great marshy barrenswhich inclined down towards the sea.

  "Now," said Miss Jelliffe, during a spell of resting, "I should beutterly lost if I were alone. Nothing seems at all familiar and it is alla great jumble of little green islands of vegetation, of grey moss thatis endless, of twisted junipers and lonely boulders. I don't know where Iam, but I am perfectly happy, since some one knows the way."

  Of course I was only acquainted with the general lie of the land,but the direction was quite clear to me. I wish everything was asstraight-forward and clear as the way to the Cove.

  "I am quite ashamed of myself," she continued. "I am the only one who iscarrying nothing and is perfectly useless. I wonder your backs are notbroken with those tremendous loads."

  But the two men only grinned.

  "It is nothing when you get used to it," I said, "providing one everreally gets used to a hard grind. But there are people to whom strongphysical effort is a punishment while others simply accept it, grit theirteeth, and carry the thing out."

  "I suppose one has to learn how to accept things cheerfully," said MissJelliffe. "My life has been such an easy one that I have never had to tryto bear heavy burdens."

  "I am sure you will do it courageously, if ever the time comes," Ianswered.

  Then we took up our packs and went on, making rather slow progress, as wewere not pressed for time and the loads were heavy. In the middle of theday we took our lunch near a little brook, and, after starting again, wesoon saw, from the summit of a little hill, the bright and glitteringsea. Before us descended the valley of Sweetapple River, looking like asilvery ribbon winding in and out among the trees. To one side of usthere was a rocky hill, once swept by a storm of flames and now tenantedonly by the gaunt skeletons of charred firs and tamaracks. In themistiness ahead of us the coast line, with its grim outlines softened,lost itself and melted away as if nature, in a kindly spirit, had soughtto throw a veil over brutal features and covered them with a mantle oftender hues.

  "This is ideally beautiful," said Miss Jelliffe. "I can understand thatyou may hesitate to leave all this to return to the grime of greatcities."

  Thus we returned to the Cove, and the girl hastened to her father, eagerto tell him of our hunt and to show him the great head. I went with herto the house, and took pleasure in seeing the interest shown by the oldgentleman. He certainly is a good sportsman.

  "If Helen hasn't thanked you enough," he said, "I want to put in my oar.I am really extremely obliged to you for giving her such a good time."

  I left in a short time and Miss Jelliffe put out her hand in her frankand friendly way. I must say she is a girl in many thousands.

  And now I wonder why I am writing all this. My diary, begun inself-defence at a time when I expected to spend so dreary a time that anaddled and rusted brain would result unless I sought hard to keep itemployed, scarcely has an excuse for being, now. The Jelliffes and theBarnetts, with the good people of the Cove, are surely enough to keep aman interested in the world about him. It has simply become a sillyhabit, this jotting down of idle words.