“Then, do. Belike he’ll yaw an’ jibe an’ luff a bit, but ’tis no yarn to be ashamed on.”
“Do tell us about it?” begged Tom. “You’ve told us lots of yarns about other men so tell us about yourself.”
“I’ll be derned ef I will,” declared Pem. “Ef this dod-gasted ol’ shellback farmer o’ a cousin o’ mine wants ye to know ’bout my dumb foolishness, jes’ git him to tell ye. Reckon he knows more ’bout it than I do, anyway.”
“Well won’t you tell us then, Mr. Potter?” asked Jim. “I guess Cap’n Pem’s too modest.”
“Aye, that I will,” assented the other. “But first, ye laddies’ll eat. ’Tis humble fare we offer, but fresh an’ wholesome. So sit ye down. Ah, here’s Henry!”
While they had been talking, Paul and Getty’s mother had been preparing the table and the savory odor of appetizing food filled the little room, and as Lem finished speaking a tall, stalwart man appeared in the doorway. Greeting his visitors cordially, the schoolmaster welcomed the boys to his home and the island and apologized for not being on hand before, explaining that he had been on a visit to a family on the other side of the hill and had just heard of the Hector’s arrival.
He spoke with only a slight accent and was evidently well educated. The boys now understood why Paul and Getty should use such good English with only occasional lapses into the Tristan vernacular.
Never had the boys enjoyed a meal better than that which they ate in the little stone cottage on Tristan da Cunha, for the fresh vegetables and meat, the home-made biscuits and fresh butter, the milk and gulls’ egg omelette, the crisp, fried fish and the luscious ripe berries were a marvelously welcome change from the ship’s fare. And as they ate, the boys had an opportunity to glance about at the room and its furnishings. At one side was a huge, stone fireplace. Above it was a narrow shelf bearing an American clock, a number of handsome sea shells and several carved whales’ teeth, while over it, were hung a long-barreled gun and a whale lance. On one side of the room, were shelves covered with books and magazines, with the model of a whaleship on the top shelf, and hanging on the walls were a number of pictures of ships, marine scenes and landscapes evidently taken from illustrated magazines and neatly framed in dark wood. The furniture was plain but good. Bright chintz curtains hung at the windows and everything was spotlessly clean.
Although there were no luxuries, there was every comfort and the boys could scarcely believe they were on this far-away speck of land in the middle of the Atlantic, and not in some sailor’s cottage on Cape Cod or Nantucket.
During the meal, the conversation was all of the outside world:—the war, the whaling business, gossip of old friends and acquaintances and inquiries about the prices of clothing, supplies and many other matters. Paul’s father had not been in the States for many years and he could scarcely credit the changes which Tom and Jim described to him. Both boys had visited New York a few weeks before they sailed, and the islanders listened spellbound as they told of the sky-scrapers, the subway and the countless other marvels of the metropolis. As Tom said afterwards, it was like talking to inhabitants of another planet, for the things which seemed so commonplace to the two American boys were as fascinating as fiction to the Tristan da Cunha family. Although they had seen pictures of motor cars, airplanes, tall buildings and such things, still, to listen to those who actually had seen them, was very different. The two boys had never before realized that there were civilized, white, English speaking people in the world who had never seen any of the things which were such a familiar part of their own every day lives. But when, at last, the meal was over and the talk veered to the Hector and her voyage, the boys reminded old Lem of his promise to tell them the story of Cap’n Pem’s lost leg.