"An' if he does," asserted Cap'n Moore, addressing Cap'n Doty, who sat opposite him on a cracker barrel, "ye'd git a chance to work off them mackerel."
"I dunno what he's goin' ter do with it," asserted Jess, when a pause came, "nor care, so long's I git t'other thousand as is comin' when deeds is passed. I ain't sure I'll git that, either," he added candidly, "but if I don't the quarry's still mine 'n' a cool thousand o' that freak's good money's gone out o' circulation anyhow, which is some comfort."
Then came a lull in conversation, and in place the popping of more corks and "Here's to yer good luck, Jess," as bottles were elevated and pointed downward.
"Come, Jess," said Dave Moore, when this second libation had been indulged in, and who was in a mood for hearing yarns, "tell 'em 'bout old Bill Atlas."
Now this tale, antedating the day and generation of most of Jess Hutton's auditors, was nevertheless a favorite with him and one he always enjoyed telling.
"Wal," he said, "if ye want ter hear 'bout old Bill, I'll tell ye, though some o' ye here hez heerd 'bout him afore, I reckon. It's been a good many years since Bill took to his wings, humsoever, 'n' so his hist'ry may be divartin'. Bill used ter live all 'lone in a little shack he'd built out o' drift, half way 'tween here and Northaven. That is, he slept thar nights when he was ashore, fer he was away fishin' most o' the time. He were the worst soaker on the island, an' from the time he sot foot ashore 'n' got his pay until every cent was spent, he didn't draw a sober breath. Thar wan't no use arguin' with Bill, or doin' anything to reform him. Jist the moment he got a dollar, jist that moment he started in ter git drunk 'n' allus succeeded. Even Parson Bush, who hed jist come here then 'n' anxious ter do good, failed on Bill. No 'mount o' argufyin' 'bout the worm that never dies or the fate o' sinners hed a mite o' influence on Bill.
"'Parson,' he'd say, 'thar ain't no use a-talkin' ter me. Licker was made ter be drunk, else why was it made at all, 'n' if the Lord Almighty didn't cac'late fer me ter drink it, why did he make me hanker for't? Ye jist preach ter them as is like ter mind it an'll foller it. I ain't, an' it'll do no good.' An' then Bill'd roll away an' fill up. He wa'n't a quarrelsome cuss, jist a good-natured soaker who meant ter git drunk, 'n' done it, an' never meant ter bother nobody when he was.
"But some on us young folks in them days sot out to hev fun with Bill once upon a time, an' we did, an' more'n that, we joggled him so he quit drinkin' fer most a year. He'd had one er two fits o' tremens afore that time, 'n' had sorter got skeery 'bout seein' things, so our trick worked fust rate. One o' the smacks hed jist brought in a hogfish that day, an' it was the worst lookin' critter that ever growed in the sea. It weighed 'bout fifty poun' 'n' was 'most all mouth 'n' teeth. Bill was up in the corner o' a fish house sleepin' off a jag when the critter was h'isted onto the dock, 'n' the moment we spied it we said we'd try it on Bill. We told everybody ter keep quiet 'n' then we went at it. Fust we lugged the hogfish over ter Bill's shack, which was out on the end o' a little pint 'n' sorter shut in 'tween the rocks, 'n' then we got an old bit o' sail and went ter work. We sot the critter up on stuns, right in front o' the shack, 'n' made a tail 'bout forty feet long out o' the sail, an' stuffed it nat'ral like, 'n' then rigged lines running over the shanty to work the critter's mouth 'n' tail up 'n' down when the time come. It was 'long in the arternoon when we sot about 'n' we cac'lated Bill 'd wake up sometime arter dark 'n' come to his shack in jist the mood ter 'preciate the good thing that we hed waitin' fer him. Then to sorter liven up matters, we took a handful o' matches, an' dampenin' 'em, rubbed the ends round the eyes an' mouth o' the critter, 'n' in spots 'long the tail, where we was to hist it a little. It was clear dark afore we got the trap all sot 'n' baited, 'n' then five on us took the lines and tried the joke. It worked pretty slick, 'n' ter see that critter's mouth, more'n a foot long 'n' full o' teeth, 'n' eyes with rings of phosphorus round 'em, a-workin' up an' down, to say nothin' 'bout the tail, would a-skeered a sober man into fits arter dark, let alone one who 'spected snakes. When Bill's welcome home was all ready, we sot a watch on Bill, who was still asleep, 'n' the rest on us went home ter supper. Then we got together, 'bout two dozen on us that knew Bill best, 'n' gittin' sheets ter wrap up in, to sorter stiffen the hogfish effect, all hands hid round his shanty an' inside on't. It was purty late 'fore Bill showed up, but he came 'long finally, kind o' wobblin' some and hummin':—
"'I'm a gallant lass as ever you see,
And the roving sailor winked at me.'
"Bill was allus feelin' that way when half full 'n' now jist happy 'n' comfortable like. There was a new moon that sorter lit up the path, 'n' jist as he got to where it made a turn, 'bout ten feet from the shanty, I made a signal by squeakin' like a gull, an' the boys begun workin' the lines, 'n' 'bout two dozen white figgers rose up from behind the rocks or stepped out o' the cabin. I never knew which skeered Bill the worst, the awful critter snappin' at him thar in the path, or the ghosts, for Bill gave one screech that could a' been heard five mile, 'n' ye never seen a man run the way he did. He didn't stop ter keep in the path either, but jist went right over the rocks anywhere. He tumbled two or three times 'fore he got out o' sight, 'n' you'd a-thought he was made o' rubber, the way he got up 'n' yelled, 'Help, help, O Lord,' all the time. I'll 'low it was the fust time he'd ever called on the Lord fer help, but it wa'n't the last, fer he made straight fer the parson's house 'n' begun pummellin' on the door.