CHAPTER XXII.
THE REAL MISSION OF THE JUG.
Ham Morris ate well, when he once got at it; but he did not linger longat the dinner-table, for his heart was in "The Swallow." Dab would havegiven more than ever for the privilege of going with him. Not that hefelt so dreadfully charitable, but that he did not care to prolong hisstay at Mrs. Foster's, as "cook" or otherwise. He had not by any meanslost his appetite,--although he seemed disposed to neglect the lobsters;and when he had taken proper care of it he hurried away "on an errandfor his mother," in the direction of the village. Nearly everybody hemet had some question or other to ask him about the wreck, and it wasnot to have been expected that Jenny Walters would let her oldacquaintance pass her without a word or so.
Dab answered as well as he could, considering the disturbed state of hismind; but he wound up with,--
"Jenny, I wish you'd come over to our house by and by."
"What for?"
"Oh! I've got something to show you--something you never saw before."
"Do you mean your new baby? the one you found on the bar?"
"Yes, but that baby, Jenny!"
"What's wonderful about it?"
"Why, it's only two years old, and it can squall in two languages.That's a good deal more than you can do."
"They say your friend, Miss. Foster, speaks French," retorted Jenny."Was she ever shipwrecked?"
"In French? May be so; but not in German."
"Well, Dabney, I don't propose to squall in any thing. Are your folksgoing to burn any more of their barns this year?"
"Not unless Samantha gets married. Jenny, do you know what's the latestfashion in lobsters?"
"Changeable green, I suppose."
"No: I mean after they're boiled. It's to have 'em come on the table incuffs and collars. Lace around their necks, you know."
"And gloves?"
"No, not any gloves. We had lobsters to-day, at Mrs. Foster's, and youought to have seen 'em."
"Dabney Kinzer, it's time you went to school again."
"I'm going, in a few days."
"Going? Do you mean you're going away somewhere?"
"Ever so far; and Dick Lee's going with me."
"I heard about him, but I didn't know he meant to take you along. That'svery kind of Dick. I s'pose you won't speak to common people when youget back."
"Now, Jenny"--
"Good-afternoon, Dabney. Perhaps I'll come over before you go, if it'sonly to take a look at that shipwrecked baby."
A good many of Mrs. Kinzer's lady friends, young and old, deemed ittheir duty to come and do that very thing within the next few days. Thenthe sewing-circle took the matter up, and both the baby and its motherwere provided for as they never had been before. It would have takenmore languages than two, to fairly express the gratitude of the poorAlsatians. As for the rest of them, out there on the bar, they werespeedily taken off, and carried to "the city," none of them beingseriously the worse for their sufferings, after all. Ham Morris declaredthat the family he had brought ashore "came just in time to help him outwith his fall work, and he didn't see any charity in it."
Good for Ham!
It was the right way to feel about it, but Dab Kinzer thought he couldsee something in it that looked like "charity" when he met his tired-outbrother-in-law on his late return from that second trip across the bay.
Real charity never cares to make an exhibition of itself.
They were pretty thoroughly worn out, both of them; but they carefullymoored "The Swallow" in her usual berth before they left her.
She had effectually "discharged her cargo," over on the sand-island; butthey Had enough of a load to carry home, in the shape of empty basketsand things of that sort.
"Is every thing out of the locker, Dab?" inquired Ham.
"All but the jug. I say, did you know it was nearly half full? Would itdo any hurt to leave it here?"
"The jug? No, not if you just pour out the rest of the apple-jack overthe side."
"Make the fish drunk."
"Well, it sha'n't do that for anybody else, if I can help it."
"Well, if it's good for water-soaked people, I guess it can't hurt thefish."
"Empty it, Dab. Empty it, and come along. The doctor wasn't so farwrong, and I was glad to have it with me. Seemed to do some of 'em apower of good. But medicine's medicine, and I only wish some people Iknow of would remember it."
"Some of 'em do a good deal of that kind of doctoring."
The condemned liquor was already gurgling from the mouth of the demijohninto the salt water, and neither fish nor eel came forward to get ashare of it. They were probably all feeling pretty well that night. Whenthe demijohn was empty and the cork replaced, it was set down again inthe "cabin;" and that was left unlocked, for there was no more danger init for anybody. Dab and Ham were altogether too tired to take any painsthere was no call for.
Dab's mind must have been tired, as well as his body; for he decided topostpone until the morrow the report he had to make about the tramp. Hewas strongly of the opinion that the latter had not seen him torecognize him; and, at all events, the matter could wait.
So it came to pass that all the shore, and the road that led away fromit, and the village the road led into, were deserted and silent, an houror so later, when a stoutly-built "cat-boat," with her one sail lowered,was quietly sculled up the inlet.
There were two men on board, a tall one and a shorter one; and they rantheir boat right alongside "The Swallow," as if that were the precisething they had come to do.
"Burgin," remarked the tall man, "wot ef we don't find any thin', arterall this sailin' and rowin' and scullin'? Most likely he's kerried it tothe house. In course he has."
The keenly watchful eyes of Burgin had noted the arrival of thatapple-jack at the island; and they had closely followed its fortunes,from first to last. He had more than half tried, indeed, to work himselfin among the crowd, as one of the "sufferers," but with no manner ofsuccess.
The officers of the ship knew every face that had any right to aspoonful, and Burgin's failed to pass him. He had not failed, however,to note that his coveted "medicine" was by no means exhausted, and tosee Ham stow the demijohn carefully away, at last, under the half-deckof "The Swallow." That information had given all the inducement requiredto get old Peter and his boat across the bay; and the ancient "wrecker"was as anxious about the result as the tramp himself could be. It washard to say, now, which of them was the first on board "The Swallow."
"It ain't locked!"
"Then the jug ain't thar."
"Wall, it is," exclaimed Burgin triumphantly, as he pulled it out; buthis under jaw dropped a little when he felt "how light it lifted."
"Reckon they helped themselves on thar way hum."
It was a good deal worse than that; and an angry and disappointed pairwere they when the cork and the truth came out.
"Thar's jest a good smell!"
That was old Peter's remark; and it sounded as if words failed him toadd to it, but Burgin's wrath exploded in a torrent of bitter abuse ofthe man or men who had emptied that demijohn. He gave old Peter acapital chance to turn upon him morosely with,--
"Look a-yer, my chap, is this 'ere your boat?"
"No: I didn't say it was, did I?"
"Is that there your jug? I don't know if I keer to sit and hear one ofmy neighbors--and he's a good feller too, he is--abused all night, jestbekase I've been and let an entire stranger make a fool of me."
"Do you mean me?"
"Well, ef I didn't I wouldn't say it. Don't you git mad, now. It won'tpay ye. Jest let's take a turn 'round the village."
"You kin go ef you want ter. I'll wait for ye. 'Pears like I didn't feelmuch like doin' any trampin' 'round."
"Stay thar, then. But mind you don't try on any runnin' away with myboat."
"If I want a boat, old man, there's plenty here that's better worthstealin' than yourn."
"That's so. I didn't know you'd been makin' any kalkilation on
it. Iwon't be gone any great while."
He was gone some time, however, whatever may have been his errand. OldPeter was not the man to be at a loss for one, of some sort, even atthat hour of the night; and his present business, perhaps, did notparticularly require company.
When he returned at last, he found his own boat safe enough, and hereally could not tell if any of the others had walked away; but helooked around in vain for any signs of his late comrade. Not that hespent much time or wasted any great pains in searching for him; and hemuttered to himself, as he gave it up,--
"Gone, has he? Well, then, it's a good riddance to bad rubbidge. I ain'tno aingil, but that feller's a long ways wuss'n I am."
Whether or not old Peter was right in his estimate of himself or ofBurgin, in a few moments more he was all alone in his "cat-boat," andwas sculling it rapidly out of the crooked inlet.
His search for Burgin had been a careless one, for he had but glancedover the gunwale of "The Swallow." A second look might have shown himthe form of the tramp, half covered by a loose flap of the sail, deeplyand heavily sleeping on the bottom of the boat. It was every bit ascomfortable a bed as he had been used to; and there he was still lying,long after the sun had looked in upon him, the next morning.
Other eyes than the sun's were to look in upon him before he awakenedfrom that untimely and imprudent nap.
It was not so very early when Ham Morris and Dabney Kinzer were stirringagain; but they had both arisen with a strong desire for a "talk," andHam made an opportunity for one by saying,--
"Come on, Dab. Let's go down and have a look at 'The Swallow.'"
Ham had meant to talk about school and kindred matters, but Dab's firstwords about the tramp cut off all other subjects.
"You ought to have told me," he said. "I'd have had him tied up in aminute."
Dab explained as well as he could; but, before he had finished, Hamsuddenly exclaimed,--
"There's Dick Lee, on board 'The Swallow!' What on earth's he therefor?"
"Dick!" shouted Dabney.
"Cap'n Dab, did yo' set this yer boat to trap somebody?"
"No. Why?"
"'Cause you's done gone an' cotched 'im. Jes' you come an' see."
The sound of Dick's voice, so near them, reached the dull ears of theslumbering tramp; and as Ham and Dabney sprang into a yawl, and pushedalong-side the yacht, his unpleasant face was slowly and sleepily liftedabove the rail.
"It's the very man!" excitedly shouted Dabney.
"The tramp?"
"Yes,--the tramp!"
No one would have suspected Ham Morris of so much agility, although hisbroad and well-knit frame promised abundant strength; but he was onboard "The Swallow" like a flash, and Burgin was "pinned" by his irongrasp before he could so much as guess what was coming.
"Le' go o' me!"
"I've got you!"
It was too late for any such thing as resistance; and the captivesettled at once into a sullen, dogged silence, after the ordinary customof his kind when they find themselves cornered. It is a species of dull,brute instinct, more than cunning, seemingly; but not a word more didHam and Dab obtain from their prisoner,--although they said a good manyto him,--until they delivered him over to the safe-keeping of the lawfulauthorities at the village. That done, they went home to breakfast,feeling that they had made a good morning's work of it, but wonderingwhat would be the end and result of it all.
"Ten years, I guess," said Ham.
"In State prison?"
"Yes. Breaking stone. He'll get his board free, but it'll be totalabstinence for him. I wonder what took him on board 'The Swallow,'"
"I know,--the jug!"
"That's it, sure's you live. I saw him over on the island. I declare! Tothink of an empty demijohn having so much good in it!"
Dab Kinzer: A Story of a Growing Boy Page 22
