Jagger turned on his heel—and went wearily away. And I have never forgiven the doctor his light manner upon this wretched occasion: for it seems to me (but I am not sure of it) that rascals, also, are entitled to the usual courtesy. At any rate, in uttermost despair we paid for the lack of it.
I copy, now, from the deposition of Allworthy Grubb, master of the schooner Jessie Dodd, Falmouth, England, as taken that night at our harbour: “The ‘Jessie Dodd’ was chartered by Thomas Jagger, doing business at Wayfarer’s Tickle, to load fish for across.... I do hereby make a voluntary statement, with my own free will, and without any inducement whatever.... Thomas Jagger offered me, if I would put the ‘Jessie Dodd’ ashore, he would give me half the profits realized on ship and cargo. This he promised me on a Sunday morning in his fish stage opposite to where the ship was put ashore. After the ship was put ashore he no longer discussed about the money I was to receive.... Two days before the ‘Jessie Dodd’ was put ashore I broke the wheel chain and tied the links with spunyarn. I showed the broken links to Mr. Jagger. The day we were starting there was rum served out to the crew. Mr. Jagger supplied it. When the vessel started, nearly all the crew were drunk. I had the wheel. About five minutes after she started I cut the spunyarn. The vessel began to go on the rocks. One of the crew shouted, ‘Hard-a-starboard!’ I shouted that the port wheel chain was broken. Then the vessel went ashore.... Mr. Jagger sent a kettle of rum aboard, which I had served to the crew. No attempt was made to get the vessel off.... When I saw Mr. Jagger he told me I was a seven kinds of a fool for putting her ashore where I did. He said it would be all right, anyhow. He said they were all afraid of him. He said no one would give it away.... I am guilty of putting the ‘Jessie Dodd’ ashore, for which I am extremely sorry of being prompted to do so by Thomas Jagger, and to be so sadly led away into such depravity. Had it not been for such an irreproachable character, which I have held previous to this dreadful act, ten minutes after the occurrence I would have given myself up. Not one hour since but what I have repented bitterly....” I present this that the doctor may not appear unfairly to have initiated a prosecution against his enemy: though that were a blessing to our coast.
“Davy,” said the doctor, briskily, when the writing was done, “I must leave Captain Grubb to your hospitality for a time. It will be necessary for me to go south to the cable station at Chateau. The support of Lloyds—since Jagger has influence at St. Johns—will be invaluable in this case.”
He set sail in the sloop next day.
It was now late in the fall of the year. Young slob ice was forming by night in the quiet places of the harbour. The shiver of winter was everywhere abroad.... For a week the weather continued ominous—with never a glint of sunshine to gladden us. Drear weather, treacherous—promising grief and pain. Off shore, the schooners of the great fleet crept by day to the s‘uth’ard, harbouring by night: taking quick advantage of the variable winds, as chance offered. ’Twas thus that the doctor returned to our harbour; and there he was held, from day to day, by vicious winds, which the little sloop could not carry, by great, black seas, which she could not ride.... One day, being ill at ease, we went to the Watchman, that we might descry the first favourable sign. In the open, the wind was still to the north of east—but wildly capricious: blowing hither and thither; falling, too, to a sigh, rising, all at once, to a roaring gust, which tore at the whisps of grass and fairly sucked the breath from one’s body. Overhead, the sky was low and tumultuous; great banks of black cloud, flecked with gray and white—ragged masses—went flying inland, as in a panic. There was no quiet light in the east, no clean air between; ’twas everywhere thick—everywhere sullen.... We left the Watchman downcast—each, too, preoccupied. In my heart was the heavy feeling that some sad thing was about to befall us....
I must tell, now, that, before the smallpox came to Poor Luck Harbour, the doctor had chartered the thirty-ton Trap and Seine for our business: with which Skipper Tommy Lovejoy and the twins, with four men of our harbour, had subsequently gone north to Kidalik, where the fishing was reported good beyond dreams. ’Twas time for the schooner to be home. She was long overdue; and in great anxiety we awaited her return or news of her misfortune: the like of which often happens on our coast, where news proceeds only by word of mouth. ’Twas in part in hope of catching sight of her barked topsail that we had gone to the Watchman. But at that moment the Trap and Seine lay snug at anchor in Wayfarer’s Tickle: there delayed for more civil weather in which to attempt the passage of the Bay, for she was low in the water with her weight of fish, and Skipper Tommy had a mind to preserve his good fortune against misadventure. And, next day, the wind being still unfavourable, he had Timmie row him ashore, that he might pass an hour in talk with the men on Jagger’s wharf: for there was nothing better to do, and the wreck of the Jessie Dodd was food of the choicest for water-side gossip. To him, by and by, came Jagger’s clerk: begging that the Trap and Seine might be got under weigh for our harbour within the hour, for Jagger lay near death (having been taken in the night) and sorely needed the doctor, lest he die.
“Die!” cried Skipper Tommy, much distressed. “That’s fair awful. Poor man! So sick as that?”
“Ay,” the clerk replied, with a sharp little look into Skipper Tommy’s mild eyes, “he’ll die.”