The Old Tobacco Shop

"Now you've got yer hand on the right rope!" said the Able Seaman, his face brightening. "I don't smoke. I chew. If you're goin' to offer a bit of a chew, why then, says I, I don't care if I do."

Freddie took a long plug of chewing tobacco from the shelf behind him. He knew that Mr. Toby would not mind making a little gift to the sailorman after his long journey. He put the plug under the cutter on the counter, and was about to press down the handle, to cut off a portion, when the Able Seaman hitched up his trousers and said:

"Belay there, skipper! Put the whole cargo aboard! This here craft needs ballast; hoist her over the side!" And he reached out his hand for the whole plug of tobacco and took it from Freddie, and gnawed off a corner with his teeth.

"Ah!" said he, his right cheek bulging out. "Too much ballast to starboard." And he gnawed off another corner, so that his left cheek bulged out like his right.

"All snug!" said he. "I'll just pay fer my cargo before I set sail, with a bit of a draft on the owners, in a manner of speakin'. Here y'are, sir. Stow that bit o' paper in yer sea-chest, and it'll come in handy one o' these days. Pay as you go, says I."

He placed in Freddie's hand a folded sheet of soiled paper. It was greasy with handling, and was evidently very old; it was folded small and tight, and was beginning to break with age at the creases. On the outside, it was blank; but there might have been writing inside.

"Got it in the Caribbean off a runaway sailor, fer a set of false whiskers and a tattoo needle. Will it do to pay fer the cargo with?"

"Yes, sir; thank you," said Freddie, holding the paper in his hand without unfolding it.

"Then all I got to say is, before I weighs anchor, – take good keer o' that there bit o' paper. Aloft and alow, don't ye never let go; round the yard take a bight and hold on to it tight; let the harricane blow till yer fingers is blue, but wotever you do, don't ye never let go. And skipper, mind wot I'm a-tellin' you; if you ever needs Lemuel Mizzen, A.B., fer to give him his orders, all you got to do is to smoke a couple o' whiffs of the Chinaman's 'baccy, and Lemuel Mizzen, A.B., he'll be on deck before the smoke's cleared away. That's clear?"

"Yes, sir," said Freddie, with eyes wide open.

"And now as I see there's no orders to give, I'm off to my tight little bark called The Sieve, and when I'm aboard I'll close all the shutters, and lock up the parrot that sneezes and stutters, and wake all the skippers, and put on my slippers, and get into bed while the mates overhead are swabbing the decks and heaving the lead and baling the bilge-water up with their dippers; and when they have gotten the vessel to going, and settled all down to their knitting and sewing, and the twenty-third mate, who is always so late, has learned what is meant by a third and last warning, I'll turn up the gas, take a look at the glass, and read me the Life of Old Chew until morning! – And so, sir," continued Mr. Mizzen, walking towards the street door, "I must give you a view of my little stern-light, and bid you, dear sir, a very good night."

So saying, he turned squarely towards Freddie, with one hand on the door-knob, and with the other hand touched his cap respectfully. Freddie saw that his trousers were very wide at the ankles and very tight at the hips, and that he rolled a little when he walked. Having touched his cap respectfully, he opened the door and went out, and disappeared in the darkness outside.

Freddie stood looking after him with his mouth wide open.

CHAPTER VII

THE HANDS OF THE CLOCK COME TOGETHER

It was some minutes before Freddie recovered from his astonishment. Certainly this was a strange Sailorman. And he had come all the way from the China Sea at a puff of the Chinaman's tobacco! Certainly magic tobacco, that! But it was a pity that Mr. Mizzen had been called away from the China Sea, all for nothing, while he was so busy gathering boxes to box compasses with! No wonder he had felt put out about it. And it must have been a queer sort of ship, with its shutters, and all those skippers and mates – did they really like to knit and sew after they had got the ship to going? It would be a wonderful thing to sail in a ship like that; he wished he had thought to ask Mr. Mizzen more about it. He must tell Aunt Amanda at once.

He ran to the back door and burst into the back room, crying out "Aunt Amanda!"

Aunt Amanda was sound asleep in her chair, with her head back and her mouth open; the gas was burning brightly overhead, and the clock was ticking away distinctly on the mantel-piece.

"Aunt Amanda!" cried Freddie.

She awoke with a jump, blinked her eyes, and said:

"Hah! Where's the – what's the – who said – Where's Toby? What's the matter?"

"It's me, Aunt Amanda," cried Freddie, breathlessly, "and the Sailorman's just been here and gone, and I called him with the pipe, and I can call him whenever I want him, and he gave me a piece of paper, and he talks like a singing-book, and there's a parrot that stutters, and they have to bale out the water with dippers because the ship's named The Sieve, and we mustn't lose the paper because the runaway sailor wore false whiskers, and he feeds on tacks instead of pins, and we have to hold on tight to the paper, and one of the men on the ship is always late, and we mustn't lose the paper, because – "

"Stop! Stop!" said Aunt Amanda. "What on earth is the child talking about? What's all this about a Sailorman and a paper?"

"He's the one that brought the Chinaman's tobacco from China, and he gave me a piece of paper, and here it is, and we mustn't lose it, because – "

"One minute, Freddie! Now you just stand right there, perfectly still, and tell me about it slowly. Now, then; what about this Sailorman? Slow, slow."

It was a long time before Freddie made her understand exactly what had happened, but at last she did understand, from beginning to end. She was grieved and horrified that he had smoked the tobacco, but there was no help for it now, and she was too much excited by his tale to scold him very long.

"What's the paper he give you?" said she, when he had told her everything.

Freddie put the paper in her hand, and she unfolded it carefully.

"Why," said she, "it's a map!"

"What kind of a map?" said Freddie.

"It's a map of an Island," said Aunt Amanda. "Where's Toby? I wish he would come home. It looks like an Island, and there's writing here on it. Looks like some sailorman might have drawn it, maybe; it's certainly pretty old. I wish Toby would come."

"What's the writing on it, Aunt Amanda?" said Freddie.

"Well, here at the top it says, 'Correction Island,' and under that it says, 'Spanish Main.' Bless me; that's where the pirates used to – "

"Pirates?" said Freddie, his eyes sparkling.

"Yes, pirates, of course. You've heard of the Spanish Main, haven't you?"

"Yes'm. It's a long way off. You have to go there in a ship. Have you ever been there?"

"Me? Me been to the Spanish Main? Mercy sakes, no, child! What would I be doing on the Spanish Main? I ain't been outside of this town since I was born."

"Wouldn't I like to go there! Pirates!" said Freddie. "Oh jiminy!"

"You mustn't use such dreadful language," said Aunt Amanda. "I wonder where Toby is? Just look at that clock! Why, bless me, it's twenty-seven minutes to seven."

Freddie looked, and saw that the hands of the clock were together, one on top of the other. It was the hour for Mr. Punch's father to call Mr. Punch from the church-tower.

"Toby's got to talkin' with that barber again, as sure as you live; when they once begin, they never know when to leave off. I wish he'd – "

As she said this, the door opened, and in walked Mr. Toby himself.

"Sorry I'm so late," he cried, "but the barber got to talking about – What, young feller, are you still here?" He turned and called through the open door to someone behind him in the shop. "Come in! Make you acquainted with my aunt and a young chap here – Don't be bashful, come right in! Nobody's goin' to eat you!"

Mr. Toby held the door wide open, and made way for a little gentleman who now advanced into the room. He was a hunchbacked man, of the same height as Toby, and he was holding out in one hand a bunch of black cigars; he was bareheaded and bald-headed; he had high cheek-bones and a big chin and a hooked nose; he wore blue knee breeches and black stockings and buckled shoes, and his coat was cut away in front over his stomach and had two tails behind, down to his knees. His joints creaked a little as he walked. He made a stiff bow to Aunt Amanda, and another one to Freddie.

"Come in, Mr. Punch," said Toby, "you don't need to hold them cigars any longer. Give 'em to me." And he took them from Mr. Punch and laid them on the table. He then went to Mr. Punch and linked his arm in his, and the two hunchbacks stepped forward together and stood before Aunt Amanda.

"Allow me to present my friend Mr. Punch," said Toby. "Just as I was coming in, I heard a voice sing out 'Punch!' from the church-tower, and Mr. Punch stepped down from his perch, and I invited him to come in, and here we are."

"Good hevening, marm," said Mr. Punch. His voice sounded harsh, as if his throat were rusty. "Good hevening, young sir. Hit's wery pleasant within-doors, wery pleasant indeed; Hi carn't s'y it's so blooming agreeable hout there on my box, hall d'y and hall night; the gaslight is wery welcome to me poor heyes, I assure you, marm. Hi trust I see you well, marm."

"Mercy on us!" said Aunt Amanda, who had been speechless with astonishment. "Freddie, it's Mr. Punch himself, bless me if it ain't!"

Freddie edged a little closer to Aunt Amanda, for he was afraid Mr. Punch might snatch him up and carry him off to his father in the tower. Mr. Punch noticed this.

"'Ave no fear, me good sir," said Mr. Punch, his wide mouth expanding in a smile, almost to his ears. "Hi sharn't see me father this night, hif me kind friends will permit me to enjoy their society for a brief period, together with their charmin' gaslight, which it is wery dim hall night in the street and quite hunsatisfactory, accordingly most pleased to haccept me friend Toby's kind 'ospitality, Hi assure you. One grows quite cramped in one's legs and one's harms when one 'as to remain in one position on one's box hall night, unless one's father should tyke hit into 'is 'ead to call one hup for a bit of a lark, and one can never be sure of one's father's 'aving it in 'is 'ead to call one hup, to s'y nothing of one's fingers coming stiffer and stiffer with one's parcel of cigars 'eld out in one's 'and, and no 'at on one's 'ead, and no 'air on one's 'ead to defend one against the hevening hair, with one's nose dropping hicicles in winter, so that one never knows when one will lose one's nose off of one's fyce – "