Anne's House of Dreams

by L. M. Montgomery

  CHAPTER 24

  THE LIFE-BOOK OF CAPTAIN JIM

  "I have a little brown cocoon of an idea that may possibly expand intoa magnificent moth of fulfilment," Anne told Gilbert when she reachedhome. He had returned earlier than she had expected, and was enjoyingSusan's cherry pie. Susan herself hovered in the background, like arather grim but beneficent guardian spirit, and found as much pleasurein watching Gilbert eat pie as he did in eating it.

  "What is your idea?" he asked.

  "I sha'n't tell you just yet--not till I see if I can bring the thingabout."

  "What sort of a chap is Ford?"

  "Oh, very nice, and quite good-looking."

  "Such beautiful ears, doctor, dear," interjected Susan with a relish.

  "He is about thirty or thirty-five, I think, and he meditates writing anovel. His voice is pleasant and his smile delightful, and he knowshow to dress. He looks as if life hadn't been altogether easy for him,somehow."

  Owen Ford came over the next evening with a note to Anne from Leslie;they spent the sunset time in the garden and then went for a moonlitsail on the harbor, in the little boat Gilbert had set up for summeroutings. They liked Owen immensely and had that feeling of havingknown him for many years which distinguishes the freemasonry of thehouse of Joseph. "He is as nice as his ears, Mrs. Doctor, dear," saidSusan, when he had gone. He had told Susan that he had never tastedanything like her strawberry shortcake and Susan's susceptible heartwas his forever.

  "He has got a way with him," she reflected, as she cleared up therelics of the supper. "It is real queer he is not married, for a manlike that could have anybody for the asking. Well, maybe he is likeme, and has not met the right one yet."

  Susan really grew quite romantic in her musings as she washed thesupper dishes.

  Two nights later Anne took Owen Ford down to Four Winds Point tointroduce him to Captain Jim. The clover fields along the harbor shorewere whitening in the western wind, and Captain Jim had one of hisfinest sunsets on exhibition. He himself had just returned from a tripover the harbor.

  "I had to go over and tell Henry Pollack he was dying. Everybody elsewas afraid to tell him. They expected he'd take on turrible, for he'sbeen dreadful determined to live, and been making no end of plans forthe fall. His wife thought he oughter be told and that I'd be the bestone to break it to him that he couldn't get better. Henry and me areold cronies--we sailed in the Gray Gull for years together. Well, Iwent over and sat down by Henry's bed and I says to him, says I, jestright out plain and simple, for if a thing's got to be told it may aswell be told first as last, says I, 'Mate, I reckon you've got yoursailing orders this time,' I was sorter quaking inside, for it's anawful thing to have to tell a man who hain't any idea he's dying thathe is. But lo and behold, Mistress Blythe, Henry looks up at me, withthose bright old black eyes of his in his wizened face and says, sayshe, 'Tell me something I don't know, Jim Boyd, if you want to give meinformation. I've known THAT for a week.' I was too astonished tospeak, and Henry, he chuckled. 'To see you coming in here,' says he,'with your face as solemn as a tombstone and sitting down there withyour hands clasped over your stomach, and passing me out a blue-mouldyold item of news like that! It'd make a cat laugh, Jim Boyd,' says he.'Who told you?' says I, stupid like. 'Nobody,' says he. 'A week agoTuesday night I was lying here awake--and I jest knew. I'd suspicionedit before, but then I KNEW. I've been keeping up for the wife's sake.And I'd LIKE to have got that barn built, for Eben'll never get itright. But anyhow, now that you've eased your mind, Jim, put on asmile and tell me something interesting,' Well, there it was. They'dbeen so scared to tell him and he knew it all the time. Strange hownature looks out for us, ain't it, and lets us know what we should knowwhen the time comes? Did I never tell you the yarn about Henry gettingthe fish hook in his nose, Mistress Blythe?"

  "No."

  "Well, him and me had a laugh over it today. It happened nigh untothirty years ago. Him and me and several more was out mackerel fishingone day. It was a great day--never saw such a school of mackerel inthe gulf--and in the general excitement Henry got quite wild andcontrived to stick a fish hook clean through one side of his nose.Well, there he was; there was barb on one end and a big piece of leadon the other, so it couldn't be pulled out. We wanted to take himashore at once, but Henry was game; he said he'd be jiggered if he'dleave a school like that for anything short of lockjaw; then he keptfishing away, hauling in hand over fist and groaning between times.Fin'lly the school passed and we come in with a load; I got a file andbegun to try to file through that hook. I tried to be as easy as Icould, but you should have heard Henry--no, you shouldn't either. Itwas well no ladies were around. Henry wasn't a swearing man, but he'dheard some few matters of that sort along shore in his time, and hefished 'em all out of his recollection and hurled 'em at me. Fin'llyhe declared he couldn't stand it and I had no bowels of compassion. Sowe hitched up and I drove him to a doctor in Charlottetown, thirty-fivemiles--there weren't none nearer in them days--with that blessed hookstill hanging from his nose. When we got there old Dr. Crabb jest tooka file and filed that hook jest the same as I'd tried to do, only heweren't a mite particular about doing it easy!"

  Captain Jim's visit to his old friend had revived many recollectionsand he was now in the full tide of reminiscences.

  "Henry was asking me today if I remembered the time old Father Chiniquyblessed Alexander MacAllister's boat. Another odd yarn--and true asgospel. I was in the boat myself. We went out, him and me, inAlexander MacAllister's boat one morning at sunrise. Besides, therewas a French boy in the boat--Catholic of course. You know old FatherChiniquy had turned Protestant, so the Catholics hadn't much use forhim. Well, we sat out in the gulf in the broiling sun till noon, andnot a bite did we get. When we went ashore old Father Chiniquy had togo, so he said in that polite way of his, 'I'm very sorry I cannot goout with you dis afternoon, Mr. MacAllister, but I leave you myblessing. You will catch a t'ousand dis afternoon. 'Well, we did notcatch a thousand, but we caught exactly nine hundred andninety-nine--the biggest catch for a small boat on the whole northshore that summer. Curious, wasn't it? Alexander MacAllister, he saysto Andrew Peters, 'Well, and what do you think of Father Chiniquy now?''Vell,' growled Andrew, 'I t'ink de old devil has got a blessing leftyet.' Laws, how Henry did laugh over that today!"

  "Do you know who Mr. Ford is, Captain Jim?" asked Anne, seeing thatCaptain Jim's fountain of reminiscence had run out for the present. "Iwant you to guess."

  Captain Jim shook his head.

  "I never was any hand at guessing, Mistress Blythe, and yet somehowwhen I come in I thought, 'Where have I seen them eyes before?'--for IHAVE seen 'em."

  "Think of a September morning many years ago," said Anne, softly."Think of a ship sailing up the harbor--a ship long waited for anddespaired of. Think of the day the Royal William came in and the firstlook you had at the schoolmaster's bride."

  Captain Jim sprang up.

  "They're Persis Selwyn's eyes," he almost shouted. "You can't be herson--you must be her--"

  "Grandson; yes, I am Alice Selwyn's son."

  Captain Jim swooped down on Owen Ford and shook his hand over again.

  "Alice Selwyn's son! Lord, but you're welcome! Many's the time I'vewondered where the descendants of the schoolmaster were living. I knewthere was none on the Island. Alice--Alice--the first baby ever bornin that little house. No baby ever brought more joy! I've dandled hera hundred times. It was from my knee she took her first steps alone.Can't I see her mother's face watching her--and it was near sixty yearsago. Is she living yet?"

  "No, she died when I was only a boy."

  "Oh, it doesn't seem right that I should be living to hear that,"sighed Captain Jim. "But I'm heart-glad to see you. It's brought backmy youth for a little while. You don't know yet what a boon THAT is.Mistress Blythe here has the trick--she does it quite often for me."

  Captain Jim was still more excited when he discovered that
Owen Fordwas what he called a "real writing man." He gazed at him as at asuperior being. Captain Jim knew that Anne wrote, but he had nevertaken that fact very seriously. Captain Jim thought women weredelightful creatures, who ought to have the vote, and everything elsethey wanted, bless their hearts; but he did not believe they couldwrite.

  "Jest look at A Mad Love," he would protest. "A woman wrote that andjest look at it--one hundred and three chapters when it could all havebeen told in ten. A writing woman never knows when to stop; that's thetrouble. The p'int of good writing is to know when to stop."

  "Mr. Ford wants to hear some of your stories, Captain Jim" said Anne."Tell him the one about the captain who went crazy and imagined he wasthe Flying Dutchman."

  This was Captain Jim's best story. It was a compound of horror andhumor, and though Anne had heard it several times she laughed asheartily and shivered as fearsomely over it as Mr. Ford did. Othertales followed, for Captain Jim had an audience after his own heart.He told how his vessel had been run down by a steamer; how he had beenboarded by Malay pirates; how his ship had caught fire; how he helped apolitical prisoner escape from a South African republic; how he hadbeen wrecked one fall on the Magdalens and stranded there for thewinter; how a tiger had broken loose on board ship; how his crew hadmutinied and marooned him on a barren island--these and many othertales, tragic or humorous or grotesque, did Captain Jim relate. Themystery of the sea, the fascination of far lands, the lure ofadventure, the laughter of the world--his hearers felt and realisedthem all. Owen Ford listened, with his head on his hand, and the FirstMate purring on his knee, his brilliant eyes fastened on Captain Jim'srugged, eloquent face.

  "Won't you let Mr. Ford see your life-book, Captain Jim?" asked Anne,when Captain Jim finally declared that yarn-spinning must end for thetime.

  "Oh, he don't want to be bothered with THAT," protested Captain Jim,who was secretly dying to show it.

  "I should like nothing better than to see it, Captain Boyd," said Owen."If it is half as wonderful as your tales it will be worth seeing."

  With pretended reluctance Captain Jim dug his life-book out of his oldchest and handed it to Owen.

  "I reckon you won't care to wrastle long with my old hand o' write. Inever had much schooling," he observed carelessly. "Just wrote thatthere to amuse my nephew Joe. He's always wanting stories. Comes hereyesterday and says to me, reproachful-like, as I was lifting atwenty-pound codfish out of my boat, 'Uncle Jim, ain't a codfish a dumbanimal?' I'd been a-telling him, you see, that he must be real kind todumb animals, and never hurt 'em in any way. I got out of the scrapeby saying a codfish was dumb enough but it wasn't an animal, but Joedidn't look satisfied, and I wasn't satisfied myself. You've got to bemighty careful what you tell them little critters. THEY can seethrough you."

  While talking, Captain Jim watched Owen Ford from the corner of his eyeas the latter examined the life-book; and presently observing that hisguest was lost in its pages, he turned smilingly to his cupboard andproceeded to make a pot of tea. Owen Ford separated himself from thelife-book, with as much reluctance as a miser wrenches himself from hisgold, long enough to drink his tea, and then returned to it hungrily.

  "Oh, you can take that thing home with you if you want to," saidCaptain Jim, as if the "thing" were not his most treasured possession."I must go down and pull my boat up a bit on the skids. There's a windcoming. Did you notice the sky tonight?

  Mackerel skies and mares' tails Make tall ships carry short sails."

  Owen Ford accepted the offer of the life-book gladly. On their wayhome Anne told him the story of lost Margaret.

  "That old captain is a wonderful old fellow," he said. "What a life hehas led! Why, the man had more adventures in one week of his life thanmost of us have in a lifetime. Do you really think his tales are alltrue?"

  "I certainly do. I am sure Captain Jim could not tell a lie; andbesides, all the people about here say that everything happened as herelates it. There used to be plenty of his old shipmates alive tocorroborate him. He's one of the last of the old type of P.E. Islandsea-captains. They are almost extinct now."