The Cruise of the Shining Light

“‘You ithn’t got all your thentheth, ith you?’ says she.

“‘Well,’ says he, ‘bein’ born on Hollow-eve,’ says he, ‘I isn’t quite got all my wits. But,’ says he, ‘I wisht I had. An’ I can’t do no more.’

“‘An’ you wanth t’ wed me?’ says she. ‘Ith you sure you doth?’

“‘I got mother’s ring,’ says the cook, ‘t’ prove it.’

“‘Tumm,’ says Liz t’ me, ‘you ithn’t wantin’ t’ get married, ith you?’

“‘No, Liz,’ says I. ‘Not,’ says I, ‘t’ you.’

“‘No,’ says she. ‘Not–t’ me.’ She took me round the turn in the road. ‘Tumm,’ says she, ‘I ’low I’ll wed that man. I wanth t’ get away from here,’ says she, lookin’ over the hills. ‘I wanth t’ get t’ the thouthern outporth, where there’th life. They ithn’t no life here. An’ I’m tho wonderful tired o’ all thith! Tumm,’ says she, ‘no man ever afore athked me t’ marry un, an’ I ’low I better take thith one. He’th on’y a fool,’ says she, ‘but not even a fool ever come courtin’ me, an’ I ’low nobody but a fool would. On’y a fool, Tumm!’ says she. ‘But I ithn’t got nothin’ t’ boatht of. God made me,’ says she, ‘an’ I ithn’t mad that He done it. I ’low He meant me t’ take the firth man that come, an’ be content. I ’low I ithn’t got no right t’ thtick up my nothe at a fool. For, Tumm,’ says she, ‘God made that fool, too. An’, Tumm,’ says she, ‘I wanth thomethin’ elthe. Oh, I wanth thomethin’ elthe! I hateth t’ tell you, Tumm,’ says she, ‘what it ith. But all the other maidth hath un, Tumm, an’ I wanth one, too. I ’low they ithn’t no woman happy without one, Tumm. An’ I ithn’t never had no chanth afore. No chanth, Tumm, though God knowth they ithn’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do,’ says she, ‘t’ get what I wanth! I’ll wed the fool,’ says she. ‘It ithn’t a man I wanth tho much; no, it ithn’t a man. Ith–’

“‘What you wantin’, Liz?’ says I.

“‘It ithn’t a man, Tumm,’ says she.

“‘No?’ says I. ‘What is it, Liz?’

“‘Ith a baby,’ says she.

“God! I felt bad when she told me that…”

Tumm stopped, sighed, picked at a knot in the table. There was silence in the cabin. The Quick as Wink was still nodding to the swell–lying safe at anchor in a cove of Twist Tickle. We heard the gusts scamper over the deck and shake the rigging; we caught, in the intervals, the deep-throated roar of breakers, far off–all the noises of the gale. And Tumm picked at the knot with his clasp-knife; and we sat watching, silent, all. And I felt bad, too, because of the maid at Whooping Harbor–a rolling waste of rock, with the moonlight lying on it, stretching from the whispering mystery of the sea to the greater desolation beyond; and an uncomely maid, alone and wistful, wishing, without hope, for that which the hearts of women must ever desire…

“Ay,” Tumm drawled, “it made me feel bad t’ think o’ what she’d been wantin’ all them years; an’ then I wished I’d been kinder t’ Liz… An’, ‘Tumm,’ thinks I, ‘you went an’ come ashore t’ stop this here thing; but you better let the skipper have his little joke, for ’twill on’y s’prise him, an’ it won’t do nobody else no hurt. Here’s this fool,’ thinks I, ‘wantin’ a wife; an’ he won’t never have another chance. An’ here’s this maid,’ thinks I, ‘wantin’ a baby; an’ she won’t never have another chance. ’Tis plain t’ see,’ thinks I, ‘that God A’mighty, who made un, crossed their courses; an’ I ’low, ecod!’ thinks I, ‘that ’twasn’t a bad idea He had. If He’s got to get out of it somehow,’ thinks I, ‘why, I don’t know no better way. Tumm,’ thinks I, ‘you sheer off. Let Nature,’ thinks I, ‘have course an’ be glorified.’ So I looks Liz in the eye–an’ says nothin’.

“‘Tumm,’ says she, ‘doth you think he–’

“‘Don’t you be scared o’ nothin’,’ says I. ‘He’s a lad o’ good feelin’s,’ says I, ‘an’ he’ll treat you the best he knows how. Is you goin’ t’ take un?’

“‘I wathn’t thinkin’ o’ that,’ says she. ‘I wathn’t thinkin’ o’ not. I wath jutht,’ says she, ‘wonderin’.’

“‘They isn’t no sense in that, Liz,’ says I. ‘You just wait an’ find out.’

“‘What’th hith name?’ says she.

“‘Shoos,’ says I. ‘Moses Shoos.’

“With that she up with her pinny an’ begun t’ cry like a young swile.

“‘What you cryin’ for, Liz?’ says I.

“I ’low I couldn’t tell what ’twas all about. But she was like all the women. Lord! ’tis the little things that makes un weep when it comes t’ the weddin’.

“‘Come, Liz,’ says I, ‘what you cryin’ about?’

“‘I lithp,’ says she.

“‘I knows you does, Liz,’ says I; ‘but it ain’t nothin’ t’ cry about.’

“‘I can’t say Joneth,’ says she.

“‘No,’ says I; ‘but you’ll be changin’ your name,’ says I, ‘an’ it won’t matter no more.’

“‘An’ if I can’t say Joneth,’ says she, ‘I can’t thay–’

“‘Can’t say what?’ says I.

“‘Can’t thay Thooth!’ says she.

“Lord! No more she could. An’ t’ say Moses Shoos! An’ t’ say Mrs. Moses Shoos! Lord! It give me a pain in the tongue t’ think of it.

“‘Jutht my luck,’ says she; ‘but I’ll do my betht.’

“So we went back an’ told poor Moses Shoos that he didn’t have t’ worry no more about gettin’ a wife; an’ he said he was more glad than sorry, an’, says he, she’d better get her bonnet, t’ go aboard an’ get married right away. An’ she ’lowed she didn’t want no bonnet, but would like to change her pinny. So we said we’d as lief wait a spell, though a clean pinny wasn’t needed. An’ when she got back, the cook said he ’lowed the skipper could marry un well enough ’til we overhauled a real parson; an’ she thought so, too, for, says she, ’twouldn’t be longer than a fortnight, an’ any sort of a weddin’, says she, would do ’til then. An’ aboard we went, the cook an’ me pullin’ the punt, an’ she steerin’; an’ the cook he crowed an’ cackled all the way, like a half-witted rooster; but the maid didn’t even cluck, for she was too wonderful solemn t’ do anything but look at the moon.

“‘Skipper,’ said the cook, when we got in the fo’c’s’le, ‘here she is. I isn’t afeared,’ says he, ‘an’ she isn’t afeared; an’ now I ’lows we’ll have you marry us.’

“Up jumps the skipper; but he was too much s’prised t’ say a word.

“‘An’ I’m thinkin’,’ says the cook, with a nasty little wink, such as never I seed afore get into the eyes o’ Moses Shoos, ‘that they isn’t a man in this here fo’c’s’le,’ says he, ‘will say I’m afeared.’

“‘Cook,’ says the skipper, takin’ the cook’s hand, ‘shake! I never knowed a man like you afore,’ says he. ‘T’ my knowledge, you’re the on’y man in the Labrador fleet would do it. I’m proud,’ says he, ‘t’ take the hand o’ the man with nerve enough t’ marry Walrus Liz o’ Whoopin’ Harbor.’

“But ’twas a new Moses he had t’ deal with. The devil got in the fool’s eyes–a jumpin’ little brimstone devil, ecod! I never knowed the man could look that way.

“‘Ay, lad,’ says the skipper, ‘I’m proud t’ know the man that isn’t afeared o’ Walrus–’

“‘Don’t you call her that!’ says the cook. ‘Don’t you do it, skipper!’

“I was lookin’ at Liz. She was grinnin’ in a holy sort o’ way. Never seed nothin’ like that afore–no, lads, not in all my life.

“‘An’ why not, cook?’ says the skipper.

“‘It ain’t her name,’ says the cook.

“‘It ain’t?’ says the skipper. ‘But I been sailin’ the Labrador for twenty year,’ says he, ‘an’ I ’ain’t never heared her called nothin’ but Walrus–’

“‘Don’t you do it, skipper!’

“The devil got into the cook’s hands then. I seed his fingers clawin’ the air in a hungry sort o’ way. An’ it looked t’ me like squally weather for the skipper.

“‘Don’t you do it no more, skipper,’ says the cook. ‘I isn’t got no wits,’ says he, an’ I’m feelin’ wonderful queer!’

“The skipper took a look ahead into the cook’s eyes. ‘Well, cook,’ says he, ‘I ’low,’ says he, ‘I won’t.’

“Liz laughed–an’ got close t’ the fool from Twist Tickle. An’ I seed her touch his coat-tail, like as if she loved it, but didn’t dast do no more.