“I’ll see you again,” said Tom Tulk. 217
Skipper George of the Black Eagle helped himself to another dram when Tom Tulk had withdrawn his great body and sly face. It was true, all that Tom Tulk had said. It was true about the clerk; he was ripe to go bad. It was true about the crew; with hands scarce, and able-bodied young fellows bound to the Sidney mines for better wages, Skipper George could ship whom he liked and Tom Tulk chose. It was true about fetching fish into St. John’s without accounting whence it came. Tom Tulk could do it; nobody would ask eccentric old Tom Tulk where he got his fish––everybody would laugh. It was true about the skipper himself; it was quite true that his reputation was none of the best as a sailing-master. But he had never lost a ship yet. They might say he had come near it, if they liked; but he had never lost a ship yet. No, sir; he had never lost a ship yet. Nor would he. He’d fetch the Black Eagle home, right enough, and show Sir Archibald Armstrong!
But the thing would be easy. It was disgustingly easy in prospect. Skipper George wished that old Tom Tulk had never come near to bother him. 218
“Hang Tom Tulk!” thought he.
But how easy, after all, the thing would be!
The first hand put his head in the hatchway to tell Skipper George that he was to report to Sir Archibald Armstrong in the office at once. Skipper George was not quite easy about the three drams he had taken; but there was nothing for it but to appear in the office without delay. As a matter of fact Sir Archibald Armstrong detected nothing out of the way. He had something to say to Skipper George about the way to sail a schooner––about timid sailing, and reckless sailing, and feeling about in fogs, and putting out to sea, and running for harbour. When he had finished––and he spoke long and earnestly, with his blue eyes flashing, his head in the air, his teeth snapping once in a while––when Sir Archibald had finished, Skipper George was standing with his cap in his hand, his face flushed, answering, “Yes, sir,” and, “No, sir,” in a way of the meekest. When he left the office he was unpleasantly aware that he was face to face with his last chance. In this new trouble he forgot all about Tom Tulk.
“Skipper George,” he thought, taking counsel 219 with himself, as he poured another dram, “you got t’ do better.”
He mused a long time.
“I will do better,” he determined. “I’ll show un that I can sail a schooner.”