Chapter 5

_From John Grant's Diary_

When I awoke this morning, I was inclined to pinch myself, wondering whether I was still dreaming. In a moment, however, my recollections were perfectly clear. Yesterday evening I met people such as I should no more have expected to find in Sweetapple Cove than in the mountains of the moon. I am glad that my idea in coming here was not to convert myself into a hermit; I am afraid I should have been sadly disappointed. Mr. Jelliffe is a man just beyond middle age, shrewd and inclined to good nature. His daughter, like the rest of her sex, is probably a problem, but so far I can only discover in her an exceedingly nice young lady who dotes on her father and takes rather a sensible view of things.

It appears that they have been all over the world and, like experienced travelers, understand exceedingly well the art of adapting oneself to all manners of surroundings. In no time at all they had transformed their ugly little house into quite a decent dwelling.

Miss Jelliffe is a decidedly attractive young woman. Of course I can only compare her with Dora Maclennon. They belong to two different types. The one is a bustling little woman, very earnest, determined and hard-working, who looks to the world for something which must as yet be rather indefinitely shaped in her mind, and who is going to find it. The other, I should say, has no cut and dried aim or ambition. Her father or grandfather achieved everything for her, and she is as free as air to follow her every inclination. Both are unquestionably good to look upon, and, at least for the present, I hope it may not be treasonable to say that Miss Jelliffe is the more restful of the two. We men are apt to think that the privilege of striving and pushing forward should be exclusively ours, and when we see a woman occupied with something of that sort we are somewhat apt to resent it as an unjustifiable poaching in our preserves. For a long time I considered Dora's efforts to be something in the nature of growing pains, which would disappear in the course of time. Now I am not so sure of this. Yet when I think of the dear little girl my heart beats faster, and somehow I persist in believing that a day will come when she will drift towards me, and we will tackle the further problems of life together.

I must confess I am glad to have met the Jelliffes. Barnett and his wife have been the only people with whom one could exchange ideas unconnected with codfish. The parson is a splendid little chap, utterly cocksure of a lot of things I take good care not to discuss too deeply with him. Moreover he is away a good part of the time, and composes his sermons with a painstaking care which must be somewhat wasted on Sweetapple Cove. I don't believe the people are really interested in the meaning of Greek texts. When he is in the throes of inspiration none dare go near him and Mrs. Barnett, the good soul, walks on tiptoe and hushes her brood. I only meet her at various sick-beds. In her own home she is so tremendously busy that I feel I have no right to trespass too often. The baby requires a lot of care, and there are lessons to the others, and family sewing, and keeping an eye upon the little servant. Worshipping her husband takes up the rest of her time.

After I had my breakfast I left Sammy's house, where I have an office which would astonish some of my New York friends. I had scraped my face and put on fairly decent clothing in deference not only to my own preferences but also to the feelings of the newcomers.

I was hardly out of the house before Sammy's wife came running after me.

"You's forgot your mitts," she cried. "Here they is. I hung 'em up back o' th' stove ter dry. It's like ter be cold at sea an' ye'll be wantin' them."

I thanked the good woman, telling her that I could afford to be careless since I had her to look after me.

"Oh! Don't be talkin'," she answered, highly pleased.

I stopped for a moment to light my pipe. Mrs. Sammy was now calling upon her offspring to hasten, for it was a fair drying day. The sun was out and the ripples glimmered brightly over the cove. The people were climbing up on their flakes, tall scaffolds built on a foundation of lender poles, and were spreading out the split, flattened codfish, that would have to dry many days before it would be fit to trade or sell. Everywhere in the settlement women and children, and a few old men unfit for harder labor, were engaged in the same back-breaking occupation. The spreading out always seems easy enough, for they deal out the fishy slabs as cards are thrown upon a table, but the picking and turning are arduous for ancient spines stiffened by years of toil.

I also looked out upon the cove, where a few men in dories were engaged in jigging for squid, pulling in the wriggling things which had been attracted by a piece of red rag, their tentacles caught upon the upturned needles of the jig. They were dropped with a sharp, jerky motion on the slimy mass of their fellows, all blotched with the inky discharge. Out beyond the rocky headlands, in the open sea, the little two-masted smacks were hurrying to anchor or already bobbing up and down with furled canvas, rising, falling and yawing to the pull of the sea. At times, by looking sharply, one could catch the gleam of a fish being pulled in, and sometimes one could hear the muffled thump of the muckle, when the fish was a big one.

The air was good indeed to breathe. The dull griminess of the village, so utterly dismal in the rain and fog of yesterday, had given place to something akin to cheerfulness. On the tops of the cliffs the scanty herbage, closely cropped by the goats, was very green, of the deep beautiful hue one only finds in lands drenched by frequent downpours. The sea was restless with long gentle swells which now only broke when they reached the bottoms of the rocks which they pounded, intermittently, with great puffs of white spray.

The goats were briskly clambering among the boulders; the dogs looked cheerful; the few chickens, no longer sad and bedraggled, scratched with renewed energy. At the entrance of the cove a few gannets wheeled, heavily, while further away a troop of black-headed terns screamed and darted about, gracefully, on long, slender, swallow-like pinions.

Even the houses, bathed in rejuvenating sunlight, looked more attractive. A few poor flowers in rare window-boxes perked up their heads. The puddles in the road were draining off into rocky crannies, and the very air seemed to have been washed of some of its all-pervading reek of fish.

I was thoroughly refreshed after a night during which I had slept so soundly that Mrs. Sammy, obeying instructions, had been compelled to enter my room and regretfully shake me into consciousness. Then I had poured much cold water over myself and used my best razor. Coffee and pancakes, with large rashers of bacon, were awaiting me, and I soon departed for the home of my new patient. Children called good morning, and a few ancient dames too old even for work upon the flakes nodded their palsied heads at me.

The house tenanted by the Jelliffes belongs to a man who is off to the Labrador, trapping cod with a crew of sons and neighbors. His wife has been only too glad to rent it to these very grand people from that amazing yacht, who have come all the way from New York, to the wonderment of the whole population, for the mere purpose of catching salmon. Her eldest daughter has been engaged as maid of all work by the tenants, and will doubtless compensate, in cheerful willingness, for her utterly primitive idea of the duties incumbent upon her.

Miss Jelliffe was sitting upon the porch. Wisps of her rich chestnut hair were being blown about by the pleasant breeze, and there is no doubt that her white shirtwaist with the rather mannish collar and tie, the tweed skirt with wide leather belt, and the serviceable low tanned shoes made a vision such as I had not expected to behold in Sweetapple Cove.

She smiled brightly as I came up and bade me good morning. Her pretty face had lost the worried, tearful look of the day before. I expressed the hope that her father had been able to obtain some rest.

"I am under the impression that Daddy slept rather better than I could," she answered, cheerfully. "Such a concert as I was treated to! I had always had an idea that my father was rather appalling, but your ancient sea-faring friend was positively extraordinary. After you left I read just a little to Daddy, and the hypnotic quality of my voice had rapid effect. After this Captain Sammy curled up on the floor, just like one of the local dogs, and spurned my offer of rugs and pillows with the specious excuse that if he made himself too comfortable and chanced to fall asleep he would never wake up. I went to my room to write a letter and presently the walls began to shake. You never heard such a duet."

"Is Mr. Jelliffe still asleep?" I asked.

"No, indeed! He has already clamored for his breakfast and is at present occupied with a bowl of oatmeal and some coffee."

Just then Frenchy came up, lifting his cap to the young lady. In one of his big paws he held his little boy's hand.

"Tak aff you cap to ze yong lady lak I tole you," he said, gravely. "Heem tink you a leetle sauvage."

The wide-eyed little chap obeyed the big sailor, his yellow curls falling over his eyes. He continued to stare at her, with a fat thumb tucked in a corner of his mouth.

"Me come say heem Beel Atkins heem go aff to St. Jean to-day. Heem got load of feesh."

"That is important news, Miss Jelliffe. Civilization is opening its arms to you," I told her. "Atkins can take letters and messages for you, and may be trusted to bring back anything you need, providing you write it all down carefully. This is also an opportunity of obtaining other surgical advice for your father."

"I need a lot of things," she exclaimed, "and there will be a message to our captain to hurry matters at that dry-dock. But I will have to consult my father."

"We go to-day?" Yves asked me, pointing towards Will's Island.

"Yes, Dick needs a lot of care yet," I answered. "But you will wait here and take some orders to Atkins first."

"Oui, orright, me wait," he said.

Miss Jelliffe had gone indoors and the man sat down on the porch, with the little chap beside him, and they gravely watched the gulls circling over the water. Yves is very big and rough looking, and his black beard is impressive. He gives one rather the idea of what the men must have been, who manned the ships of William the Conqueror, than the notion of a conventional Frenchman. Yet there is in him something very soft and tender, which appears when he looks at that child, with deep dark eyes that always seem to behold things beyond the ordinary ranges of vision.

"Ah! Glad to see you!" exclaimed Mr. Jelliffe as I entered the room. "A broken leg is no fun, but I can say that I got on rather better than I expected to. The pain has been no more than I can stand. I'll be through with this in a minute."

He swallowed his last mouthful of coffee, and Susie Sweetapple, the improvised domestic, took away a flat board with which she had made a tray.

"Is you real sure you got enough?" she enquired solicitously. "Them porridges doesn't stick long to folks' ribs, but if yer stummick gits ter teasin' yer afore dinner time jist bawl out. 'Tain't never no trouble ter bile th' kittle again."

"Thank you," said Mr. Jelliffe, as the girl left the room. "I have not yet decided, Doctor, whether that young female is an unmitigated nuisance or a pearl of great price. At any rate we couldn't get along without her."

In a few minutes I was allowed to inspect the broken leg, which was resting properly on the pillow. The swelling was not too great, and the patient declared that the confounded thing was doubtless as comfortable as such a beastly affair could be. Mr. Jelliffe possesses some notions of philosophy.

"A schooner is leaving to-day for St. John's, Mr. Jelliffe," I told him. "It will return in a few days, depending on the weather, and we could probably prevail upon one of the best surgeons there to come back with it."

My patient's eyes narrowed a little and he wrinkled his brow. He was looking at me keenly, like one long accustomed to gauging men with the utmost care.

"What is your own advice?" he finally asked.

I could not help smiling a little.

"Your fracture is not at all a complicated affair, and it looks to me as if the ends could easily be maintained in proper position. On the other hand I am still a young man, and desire to make no special claim to eminence in my profession."

"At any rate you are the local doctor."

"I suppose I represent all that this community can afford," I replied. "If I were you I would send for a consultant."

"The community doesn't seem to me to be so very badly off, as far as its doctor is concerned," said Mr. Jelliffe, slowly. "The other chap will come and undo this thing, and hurt me a lot more. I'm inclined to let things slide. This practice of yours ought to be a great thing for a stout man needing a reducing diet. How the deuce do you keep from starving to death?"

"Mrs. Sammy feeds me rather well," I replied.

My patient smiled.

"You're a smart boy," he said. "I'll admit you don't look very hungry. But how about the appetite for other things, for success in life, for the appreciation of intelligent men and for their companionship? Is there no danger of what you fellows call atrophy? Men's intellects can only maintain a proper level by rubbing up against others."

For a moment he stopped, and then went on again.

"I beg your pardon, Doctor. I'm afraid that all this is none of my business. I am sure you will take excellent care of me, and I don't see the need of sending for any one else."

"I will do my best for you, Mr. Jelliffe," I answered.

He held his hand out to me, in the friendliest way. I think we are going to get on together very well. It is pleasant to meet people who are so secure in their position that they do not feel the slightest need for snobbishness.

I soon left for Will's Island, where I remained for some hours. Frenchy's boy came with us. He's a lovable little fellow, and manifested his admiration for "_la belle dame_" as he calls Miss Jelliffe. He is an infant of discriminating taste.

It was very encouraging to note a real improvement in the fisherman's condition, and I returned in a cheerful state of mind. In the afternoon I again called on the Jelliffes, and was chatting with the old gentleman when Mrs. Barnett, with her two oldest clinging to her skirts, put her head in at the door and cheerfully asked how the invalid was getting on.

"I won't come in," she said, "my little chaps would soon turn the place upside down."

"Do bring them in," urged Miss Jelliffe. "Daddy is ever so fond of children."

The parson's wife accepted the invitation.

"I daresay I will be able to hold them in for a few minutes," she said.

Miss Jelliffe is certainly a bright girl. I am positive that she recognized at once in Mrs. Barnett a woman who would adorn any gathering of refined people. The homemade dress mattered nothing, nor the garb of the little ones, which showed infinite toil combined with scanty means for accomplishment. It was delightful to observe the positive deference and admiration that were mingled with the perfect ease of the young woman's manner.

At their mother's bidding the little fellows said their greeting very politely. Miss Jelliffe kissed them and at once insured their further behavior by sitting on the floor with them, armed with chocolates and magazine pictures.

"You are exceedingly kind to visit us, Mrs. Barnett," Mr. Jelliffe assured her. "I hope I may have the pleasure of meeting your husband soon."

"I expect him back to-morrow," she answered. "He's away on a short trip. Sometimes he goes quite a distance up and down the coast, and occasionally it is--it is rather hard at home, when the weather gets very bad."

She looked out of the window, with a movement that was nearly mechanical, and which had become habitual during long hours of waiting.

"But he likes it," she continued. "He says it is a good work and makes one feel that one is worth one's bread and salt. And so, of course, we are very happy."

I noticed that Miss Jelliffe was studying her. A look of wonder seemed to be rising on the girl's face, as if it surprised her to find that this cultured, refined woman could be contented in such a place.

"Yes, I think I am getting along very well," said Mr. Jelliffe, in answer to a question. "This young man seems to know his business. I was just hinting to him, this morning, that such a village as this can offer but a poor scope for his ability."

"Gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Barnett, laughingly. "Please don't let him hear you. I have no doubt that what you say is perfectly true, but we could never do without him now. He has only been here a short time, and it has made such a difference. Before that we had no doctor, and--and it was awful, sometimes. You can't realize how often Mr. Barnett and I have stood helplessly by some bedside, wringing our hands and wishing so hard, so dreadfully hard, for a man like Dr. Grant to help us. Once we sent for a doctor, far away, and he came as soon as he could, but my little Lottie was already..."

A spasm of pain passed over her face, and there was a quickly indrawn breath. Then she was quiet again.

"I hope he will never leave us," she said. "He may miss many things here, but it is a man's work."

"I don't feel like leaving," I told her, and she rewarded me by one of those charming smiles of hers.

Presently she took leave, and Miss Jelliffe looked at her father.

"Isn't she wonderful!" she exclaimed. "I can hardly understand it at all."

"It isn't only in the big places that people do big things," he answered. "What about that child she referred to, Doctor?"

I told him how the little one had been taken ill, and how they had been obliged to take her to the head of the cove, over the ice, until they were able to find a place where a pick could bite into the ground. Miss Jelliffe stared at me, as I spoke, and I could see her beautiful eyes becoming shiny with gathering tears.

On the next day, as I was doing something to the plaster dressing, she came into the room, hurriedly.

"I've been out there," she said. "What a poor desolate place in which to leave one's loved ones. Won't you let me help? I think I am getting on very well with my untrained nursing. I want as much practice as I can get."

"I am bound hand and foot," complained the patient. "These women are taking all sorts of unfair advantages of me. And, by the way, Helen, I want you to go out more. You are remaining indoors so much that you are beginning to lose all your fine color."

"I look like an Indian," she protested laughing.

"Then I don't want you to get bleached out. You must go out walking more, or try some fishing, but be careful about those slippery rocks. I can play no other part now than that of a dreadful example."

"I am not going to budge from this room," declared Miss Jelliffe. "You know that you can't get along without me. Besides, there are no places that one can walk to."

"I insist that you must get plenty of fresh air," persisted her father.

"There is no fresh air here," she objected. "It is a compound of oxygen, nitrogen and fish, mostly very ripe fish. One has to breathe cod, and eat it, and quintals are the only subjects of conversation. Codfish of assorted sizes flop up in one's dreams. Last night one of them, about the length of a whale, apparently mistook me for a squid, or some such horrid thing, and was in the very act of swallowing me when I awoke. I'm afraid, Daddy dear, that the fresh air of Sweetapple Cove is a dreadful fiction. But it must be lovely outside."

She was looking through the door, which stood widely opened, towards the places where the long smooth rollers broke upon the rocks, and beyond them at brown sails and screaming birds darting about in quest of prey.

"You are hungering for a breath of the sea, Miss Jelliffe," I told her. "Sammy and Frenchy are waiting for me to go to Will's Island again. With this wind it will be only a matter of three or four hours there and back. Could you stand a trip in a fishing boat?"

"Just the thing for her. No danger, is there, Doctor?" asked Mr. Jelliffe.

"Not on a day like this," I replied. Miss Jelliffe made a few further objections, which were quickly overruled. Finally she gave Susie all sorts of directions, kissed her father affectionately, and was ready to go.

"We'll be back soon, Daddy. You are a dear to be always thinking about me. I know I am very mean to leave you."

"The young lady'll be well took care of, sir," declared Captain Sammy, who had come in to say that the boat was ready.

So we went down to the cove where Frenchy, already apprised that such a distinguished passenger was coming, was feverishly scrubbing the craft and soaking the footboards, endeavoring, with scant success, to remove all traces of fish and bait.

"It's dreadful, isn't it?" said Miss Jelliffe as we passed by the fishhouses. "I know that when I get back home I shall never eat another fish-cake. And just look at the awful swarms of flies and blue-bottles. And the smell of it all! It is all undoubtedly picturesque, but it is unspeakably smelly."

The men were busily working, and girls and boys of all sizes, and one heard the sound of sharp knives ripping the fish, and the whirring of grindstones, and the flopping of offal in the water. These people were clad in ancient oilskins, stiff and evil with blood and slime, but they lifted gruesome hands to their forelocks as Miss Jelliffe went by and she did her best to smile in answer.

"Couldn't they be taught to be a little cleaner?" she asked me. "Isn't it awfully unhealthy for them?"

"It is rather bad," I admitted, "and they are always cutting their hands and fingers and getting abominably infected sores. They only come to me when they are in a more or less desperate condition. Yet one can hardly blame them for following the ways of their fathers, when you consider the lack of facilities. They can't clean the fish on board their little boats, as the bankers do on the larger schooners, and there is no place in which they can dispose of the refuse save in the waters of the cove. They don't even have any cultivable land where they could spread it to fertilize the ground. It must drift here and there, to go out with the ebb of the tide or be devoured by other fishes, or else it gets cast up on the shingle. The smell is a part of their lives, and I am nearly sure that they are usually quite unconscious of it. Moreover, they are always harassed for time. If the fishing is good the men at work in the fish-houses ought to be out fishing, and the girls should be out upon the flakes. They often work at night till they are ready to drop. And then perhaps comes a spell of rain, days and weeks of it, during which the fish spoils and all their work goes for nothing. Then they have to try again and again, with hunger and debt spurring them on. And the finest part of it is that they never seem to lose courage."

"I wonder they don't go elsewhere and try some other kind of work," suggested Miss Jelliffe.

"I dare say they are fitted for little else," I replied. "And besides, like so many other people all over the face of the earth they are attached to their own land, and many get homesick who are transplanted to other places. They seem to have taken root in the cracks between these barren rocks, and the tearing them away is hard. So they keep on, in spite of all the hardships. They get lost in storms and fogs; they get drowned or are frozen to death on the ice-pans, nearly every spring, at the sealing, for which they are paid in shares. This naturally means that if the ship is unsuccessful they get nothing for all their terrible toil and exposure. Indeed, Miss Jelliffe, they are brave people and hard workers, who never get more than the scantiest rewards. I think I am becoming very fond of them. I'm a Newfoundlander, you know."

"Was it home-sickness that brought you back?" she asked.

"It may have been sickness of some sort," I answered.

She looked at me, without saying anything more, and we stepped on board the boat, after I had guided her over the precarious footing of a loose plank which, however, she tackled bravely.