Sweetapple Cove

by George Van Schaick

  CHAPTER XV

  _From John Grant's Diary_

  Here I am writing again, just for the purpose of trying to keep awake. Afellow in my profession, in such places as this, is much like a billiardball that finds itself shot into all sorts of corners, without theslightest ordering from any consciousness of its own. I left that childat Atkins' doing fairly well, and have once more been compelled to makeone of those rather harrowing choices I dread. I had either to abandonthat child, though its mother is fairly intelligent and seems tounderstand my instructions, fortunately, or to refuse to answer thiscall, where another man with a large family is lying at the point ofdeath.

  It seems strange that I shall probably never see Miss Jelliffe again. Theyacht has been delayed for several days, and they did not start as theyexpected to. But when I return I have no doubt that the _Snowbird_ willbe gone, and with it two charming people who will be but delightfulmemories. I had thought to show Dora how willing I was to do what shecalls a man's work, and expected to accomplish it at the cost not only ofhard toil, which is an easy enough thing to get through with, but also atthe price of exile among dull people. I have had plenty of work, but forthe last two months there has not been a stupid moment. The girl's brightintelligence and fine womanliness, the old gentleman's kindly andpractical ways, have made my visits to them ever so pleasant, and thosejourneys to the barrens and the river have been delightful.

  And now the Barnetts will be left, pleasanter companions by far than Ihad any right to expect in this out-of-the-way corner of the island. Andthen I always hope that Dora will soon be coming home, as she calls it,and I will hasten away to her, and perhaps plead with her for the lasttime. I do hope she will approve of the man's work; perhaps also of theman!

  I last saw Miss Helen the day before yesterday morning, just before thesummons came for me to go to Edward's Bay, and she told me she hoped Iwould return before her departure. She said it so kindly that I am ratherproud of having won the friendship of such a splendid girl.

  Here I found a man with pneumonia, who has still a chance. His wife andchildren are sleeping on the floor, all around me. Once more I am seekingto preserve one life, that others may go on too, and I ordered the womanto take a rest, for she has been up two nights.

  When I last went to the Jellifies', after changing all my clothes, andtaking all possible precautions, I told her that the child was better,and that I was under the impression that the antitoxine was having afavorable effect. Also I informed her that I was going to start Atkinsoff to St. John's for another supply in case the malady should spread,for I only had about enough left for one bad case.

  "I hope he makes good time," I said, "but of course one can never tell,though he's a first rate man and can make his way into the cove inweather of all kinds, barring an offshore gale. Fog doesn't bother him."

  "You have had a sleepless night," she told me. "It must have been hard tokeep awake after all the work you have done in the last few days."

  I assured her that I had enjoyed some sleep, having dozed off severaltimes on my chair. I had ordered Mrs. Atkins, under dire threats, toawaken me at least every half hour, and she had obeyed fairly well.

  "You know that we may perhaps be able to leave to-morrow," she said.

  "Yes, it is best that you should," I told her. "Your father is quite wellable to stand the journey now. They can easily warp the schooner up tothe little dock so that he may walk aboard without trouble. I hope thiswind may change soon, for just now it looks rather threatening."

  We were walking away from the house, in the direction of the cliff whichforms one of the iron-bound limits of the cove and extends out into theopen sea. Miss Jelliffe was very silent. It is easy to see that sheregrets the idea of leaving, but now something seemed to be oppressingher.

  "You don't know how greatly I shall miss all this," she told me, in a lowvoice. "It has been a simple existence full of a charm that has meantmore than all the golf and autos and dancing. I have regretted none ofthe yachting or the Newport gayeties. None of those things compare atall with what one finds in poor old Sweetapple Cove, with all its smellof fish, or even its rains and fogs. These only blot out an outer worldthat seems of little interest now, and after a while the sun always comesout again."

  I walked by her side, and after going for a short distance we sat upon arock and looked out over the ocean, which extended afar, under a sky thatwas dark with mountainous masses of piled-up clouds. The great roll ofthe sea struck the foot of the cliffs rather slowly, as if performingsome solemn function, and the swash of the returning water was like somestrange dirge. The very waves had lost their blueness and were tintedwith a leaden, muddy hue.

  "It looks as if some awful storm were coming," said Miss Jelliffe.

  "It may pass away," I answered, "but I don't generally shine as a weatherprophet."

  We sat there for some time, watching the ominous stirring of the clouds,that seemed like an invading army whose might would soon be unleashed andburst out with fierce violence. Then, in the distance, we saw a smallboat. The tan-hued sails flapped idly and one could see that the men wererowing hard.

  "They are pulling for their lives," I said. "I hope they get in soon. Itlooks as if they were coming from Edward's Bay. It is likely enough thatit is another call for me. All the boats belonging to the Cove are in, asfar as I can see. They all know very well what is coming."

  "Then you will have to rush away again!" she exclaimed.

  "It is all in the game," I answered. "One has to try to play it accordingto the rules."

  "Yes, and you try very hard," she said. "Those journeys over roughwaters, those nights of watching, the toil over hopeless cases, themeager reward when devoted care has saved. It is surely a wonderful game,and you play it well."

  I have always been glad to see the enthusiasm of healthy and strong youngwomanhood. The girls of to-day like to see a man's game played, and theysurely know how to help.

  We continued to watch the small boat, which rose and fell to the swing ofthe long rollers. The wind was beginning to rise a little, striking thewater with black squalls, and we saw the little sails grow rigid as theboat careened and sped towards us like an affrighted bird.

  "They will make it all right, thank goodness," I said.

  After this we strolled back, to find Susie sitting on the little porch asshe mopped her face with her blue apron.

  "Look at this silly girl," said Miss Jelliffe. "She has been weeping offand on like a Niobe, and makes me feel like crying too. Among us poorwomen tears are dreadfully contagious things, and I'm trying hard toescape the infection."

  "I can't help it," said the girl, showing a red nose and swollen eyes."Sweetapple Cove ain't a-goin' ter be the same place after you folksgoes. 'Course I knows ye'd have no room fer a girl like me over ter yerplace in Ameriky. 'Tain't my fault if we Newfoundlanders is said ter bethat green th' devil has to put us in th' smoke-house ter dry afore we'llburn. Ye'd ought ter have hustled me hard an' said mean things ter me.Then I'd 'a' been glad when ye left. It's a sight better ter say goodriddance ter bad rubbish than ter lose people one's fond of."

  She was bravely trying to smile, and accused herself of being a sillyfool. Miss Jelliffe put her hand on the girl's shoulder.

  "You never said you would like to go with us, Susie," she said. "I'll beonly too glad to take you if you want to come."

  "Now don't be after foolin' me jest ter make me stop greetin' like asilly calf!" exclaimed Susie. "Yer sure don't mean it, does yer?"

  "Now I am determined to take you if I have to tie you up and have youcarried on board by the crew," laughed Miss Helen, whereupon a broadsmile illumined the girl's face.

  "If I doesn't allers do what yer tells me to," she declared, "ye kin takeme by the scruff of me neck an' ship me back ter work on the flakesagain. Oh, Lord! I got ter run off an' tell the folks. I'll jest be backin a minute."

  She scampered up the path, scaring two goats and sending a hen flyingover some palings into a cabbage patch, whil
e we entered the house.

  "I am afraid I have come to say good-by, Mr. Jelliffe," I said to Mr.Jelliffe. "I rather think that some one is coming for me to go to theBay, and I shall probably not be back in time to see you off. Be veryprudent about using your leg and have some one hold your arm when youmove about the yacht."

  "Hold on!" exclaimed Mr. Jelliffe. "First I want to thank you ever somuch for the excellent care you have taken of me, and for your kindnessto Helen. You have been exceedingly good and attentive to us both. And Iwant to say that I think you are doing fine work in this jumping-offplace, and it seems a pity that a man like you should be wasted here. Nowhere's a bit of paper in this envelope, and you can spend it on codfishor codfisherrnen, just as you please. Thank you again for my spliced leg,it's a fine job."

  He put out his hand, which I shook heartily. Indeed I felt very sorryover this separation. These people are friends such as I have never hadyet, and the salt of the earth.

  When I sought to open the door I was compelled to push hard against theforce of the fierce wind that had arisen during our conversation. Therocky spurs which close in the cove were now a foaming mass over whichmighty combers were hurling themselves, to the shrieking of the gale.

  I found Miss Jelliffe on the porch, with locks of her hair flying abouther pretty head.

  "You are not going," she cried. "You can't possibly go off in such astorm."

  "I can see that no boat could leave the cove now," I replied, "but if Ishould be badly wanted I might be able to make my way over there byland."

  "Oh! I hope you won't go," she said. "It is a terrible storm."

  Some men were coming towards us, their oilskins slatting in the wind thatsought to tear them from their backs.

  "'Tis a hard bit of a blow, sir," said one of them. "It's too bad, forthey is Dicky Jones, as has seven young 'uns, and they says he is mortalsick. The woman o' he she were bawlin' terrible fer us to go an' fetchyer, an' we resked it, but now 'tain't no use, for there ain't no boatcould ever get out o' th' cove an' live."

  The other man was Sammy, who nodded gravely, in confirmation.

  I looked at the raging seas that were now leaping over the little straitinto our cove.

  "I'll have to try and get there by land," I said.

  "'Tis an awful long ways around," said Sammy. "Not as I says it can't bedone."

  "We's fair done with th' long pull we's had," said the messenger. "Imistrust us men couldn't do it."

  "You will stay here and rest," I told him. "I think I will have to tryit."

  "You goin' now?" asked Sammy.

  "I'll be off in a few minutes."

  "Then I goes wid yer, in course," said the sturdy old fellow. "I might behinderin' you a bit with th' walkin', 'count o' them long legs o' yourn,but I knows th' way an' ye'll be safer from gettin' strayed."

  So I ran up to Atkins', to see once more how the child was getting on,finding everything satisfactory enough. I left some medicine and gavecareful directions, after which I returned to the Jelliffes' house. MissHelen was waiting, wrapped in a waterproof coat. Her head was bare, andshe did not appear to mind the gusts of rain which came down upon it,driven under the porch by the gale.

  "Good-by, oh! good-by!" she cried. "Thank you for everything and God bewith you!"

  She gave me a grip of the hand that was strong with a nervous force onewould hardly have deemed her capable of, and I left her regretfully, Imust say, for she had become such a comrade as a man seldom meets with.Then Sammy and I started on our long walk over the ridges and barrens,striking well inland. We had been gone but a few minutes beforeSweetapple Cove was blotted from our sight by the pelting rain thatspattered fiercely over our oilskins.

  And now I am putting in another long night.

  The storm still beats upon the roof and the wind is howling like someunmerciful beast unleashed. The _Snowbird_ surely could not sail awayto-day, for the dawning is showing its first gleams through the tinywindow panes, and there is no sign of any change.