"Have you a plug of baccy, Skipper?"
"Have you got a plug or so of baccy you could give me, skipper? I hasn't had any for nigh a month, and it do be wonderful hard."
The captain's reply was unrepeatable, but for such short acquaintance it was an accurate résumé of the character of the applicant. De mortuis nil nisi bonum is all very well, but it depends on the mortuis; and that man's wife and children had been short of food he had "smoked away."
I have the greatest admiration for the women of this coast. They work like dogs from morning till nightfall, summer and winter, with "ne'er a spell," as one of them told me quite cheerfully. The men are out on the sea in boats, which at least is a life of variety, and in winter they can go into the woods for firewood. The women hang forever over the stove or the washtub, go into the stages to split the fish, or into the gardens to grow "'taties." Yet oddly enough, there is less illiteracy among the women than among the men.
Rhoda's Randy
Such a nice girl is here from Adlavik as maid in the hospital. Rhoda Macpherson is her name. She told me the other day that one winter the doctor of the station near her asked the men to clear a trail down a very steep hill leading to the village, as the dense trees made the descent dangerous for the dogs. Weeks went by and the men did nothing. Finally three girls, with Rhoda as leader, took their axes every Sunday afternoon and went out and worked clearing that road. In a month it was done. The doctor now calls it "Rhoda's Randy."