Keziah Coffin

by Joseph Crosby Lincoln

try to--"

  "Trumet! I ain't. You're lyin'. Trumet! Good God! Who brought me here?Did she--Is she--"

  He struggled again. Then his strength and his reason left himsimultaneously and the delirium returned. He began to shout a name, aname that caused Ellery to stand upright and step back from the bed,scarcely believing his ears.

  All the rest of that night the man on the bed raved and muttered, but ofpeople and places and happenings which he had not mentioned before. Andthe minister, listening intently to every word, caught himself wonderingif he also was not losing his mind.

  When the morning came, Ebenezer Capen was awakened by a shake to findJohn Ellery standing over him.

  "Capen," whispered the minister, "Capen, get up. I must talk with you."

  Ebenezer was indignant.

  "Judas priest!" he exclaimed; "why don't you scare a feller to death,comin' and yankin' him out of bed by the back hair?" Then, being morewide awake, he added: "What's the row? Worse, is he? He ain't--"

  "No. But I've got to talk with you. You used to be a whaler, I know.Were you acquainted in New Bedford?"

  "Sartin. Was a time when I could have located every stick in it, prettynigh, by the smell, if you'd set me down side of 'em blindfold."

  "Did you ever know anyone named--" He finished the sentence.

  "Sure and sartin, I did. Why?"

  "Did you know him well?"

  "Well's I wanted to. Pretty decent feller one time, but a fast goer, andwent downhill like a young one's sled, when he got started. His folkshad money, that was the trouble with him. Why, 'course I knew him! Hemarried--"

  "I know. Now, listen."

  Ellery went on talking rapidly and with great earnestness. Ebenezerlistened, at first silently, then breaking in with ejaculations andgrunts of astonishment. He sat up on the edge of the bed.

  "Rubbish!" he cried at last, "why, 'tain't possible! The feller's deadas Methusalem's grandmarm. I remember how it happened and--"

  "It wasn't true. That much I know. I KNOW, I tell you."

  He went on to explain why he knew. Capen's astonishment grew.

  "Judas priest!" he exclaimed again. "That would explain why I thoughtI'd seen--There! heave ahead. I've got to see. But it's a mistake. Idon't believe it."

  The pair entered the sick room. The sailor lay in a stupor. Hisbreathing was rapid, but faint. Capen bent over him and gently moved thebandage on his face. For a full minute he gazed steadily. Then he stooderect, drew a big red hand across his forehead, and moved slowly back tothe living room.

  "Well?" asked Ellery eagerly.

  Ebenezer sat down in the rocker. "Judas priest!" he said for the thirdtime. "Don't talk to ME! When it comes my time they'll have to prove I'mdead. I won't believe it till they do. Ju-das PRIEST!"

  "Then you recognize him?"

  The old man nodded solemnly.

  "Yup," he said, "it's him. Mr. Ellery, what are you goin' to do aboutit?"

  "I don't know. I don't know. I must go somewhere by myself and think. Idon't know WHAT to do."

  The minister declined to wait for breakfast. He said he was not hungry.Leaving Ebenezer to put on the coffeepot and take up his duties as daynurse, Ellery walked off along the beach. The "dead line" prevented hisgoing very far, but he sat down in the lee of a high dune and thoughtuntil his head ached. What should he do? What was best for him to do?

  He heard the rattle of the doctor's chaise and the voices of Ebenezerand Parker in conversation. He did not move, but remained where he was,thinking, thinking. By and by he heard Capen calling his name.

  "Mr. Ellery!" shouted Ebenezer. "Mr. Ellery, where be you?"

  "Here!" replied the minister.

  The old man came scrambling over the sand. He was panting and muchexcited.

  "Mr. Ellery!" he cried, "Mr. Ellery! it's settled for us--one part ofit, anyhow. He's slipped his cable."

  "What?" The minister sprang up.

  "Yup. He must have died just a little while after you left and after Igave him his medicine. I thought he looked kind of queer then. And whenthe doctor came we went in together and he was dead. Yes, sir, dead."

  "Dead!"

  "Um--hm. No doubt of it; it's for good this time. Mr. Ellery, what shallwe do? Shall I tell Dr. Parker?"

  Ellery considered for a moment. "No," he said slowly. "No, Capen, don'ttell anyone. I can't see why they need ever know that he hasn't beendead for years, as they supposed. Promise me to keep it a secret. I'lltell--her--myself, later on. Now promise me; I trust you."

  "Land sakes, yes! I'll promise, if you want me to. I'm a widower man, sothere'll be nobody to coax it out of me. I guess you're right, cal'lateyou be. What folks don't know they can't lie about, can they? and that'sgood for your business--meanin' nothin' disreverent. I'll promise, Mr.Ellery; I'll swear to it. Now come on back to the shanty. The doctorwants you."

  The next day the body of "Murphy," foremast hand on the San Jose, wasburied in the corner of the Regular graveyard, near those who weredrowned in the wreck of that winter. There was no funeral, of course.The minister said a prayer at the shanty, and that was all. Ebenezerdrove the wagon which was used as hearse for the occasion, and filled inthe grave himself. So great was the fear of the terrible smallpox thatthe sexton would not perform even that service for its victim.

  Capen remained at the shanty another week. Then, as the minister showedno symptoms of having contracted the disease and insisted that he neededno companion, Ebenezer departed to take up his fishing once more. Theold man was provided with a new suit of clothes, those he had worn beingburned, and having been, to his huge disgust, fumigated until, as hesaid, he couldn't smell himself without thinking of a match box, wentaway. The room which the dead sailor had occupied was emptied and sealedtight. The San Jose was to stay at her anchorage a while longer. Then,when all danger was past, she was to be towed to Boston and sold atauction for the benefit of the heirs of her dead skipper and owner.

  Ellery himself was most urgent in the decision that he should not goback to the parsonage and his church just yet. Better to wait until hewas sure, he said, and Dr. Parker agreed. "I'd be willing to bet thatyou are all right," declared the latter, "but I know Trumet, and if ISHOULD let you go and you did develop even the tail end of a case ofvarioloid--well, 'twould be the everlasting climax for you and me inthis county."

  Staying alone was not unpleasant, in a way. The "dead line" stillremained, of course, and callers did not attempt to pass it, but theycame more frequently and held lengthy conversations at a respectfuldistance. Ellery did his own cooking, what little there was to do, butso many good things were pushed under the ropes that he was in a fairway to develop weight and indigestion. Captain Zeb Mayo drove down atleast twice a week and usually brought Mrs. Coffin with him. From themand from the doctor the prisoner learned the village news. Once CaptainElkanah and Annabel came, and the young lady's gushing praise of theminister's "heroism" made its recipient almost sorry he had ever heardof the San Jose.

  Dr. Parker told him of Grace Van Horne's return to the village. She hadcome back, so the doctor said, the day before, and was to live at thetavern for a while, at least. Yes, he guessed even she had given up hopeof Captain Nat now.

  "And say," went on Parker, "how are you feeling?"

  "Pretty well, thank you," replied the minister. "I seem to be rathertired and good for nothing. More so than I was during the worst of it."

  "No wonder. A chap can't go through what you did and not feel somereaction. I expected that. Don't get cold, that's all. But what I wantto know is whether you think I could leave you for a couple of days?The Ostable County Medical Society meets at Hyannis to-morrow and I hadpromised myself to take it in this year. But I don't want to leave you,if you need me."

  Ellery insisted that he did not need anyone, was getting along finely,and would not hear of his friend's missing the medical society'smeeting. So the physician went.

  "Good-by," he called as he drove off. "I guess your term is prettynearly over. I shall let you o
ut of jail inside of four or five days, ifyou behave yourself."

  This should have been cheering news, but, somehow, John Ellery did notfeel cheerful that afternoon. The tired feeling he had spoken of solightly was worse than he had described it, and he was despondent, forno particular reason. That night he slept miserably and awoke with achill to find a cold, pouring rain beating against the windows of theshanty.

  He could not eat