Connor Magan's Luck and Other Stories Part 2

[Ill.u.s.tration: "YER PAPPY AN' GRIEF WAR BABIES, AN' GRIEF WARN'T NAMED."]

"I felt curus-like dat minit, an' I jump up an' run all over de place lookin' for dem boys. 'Rectly all de house gals an' everybody--Mas' and Mis' an' everybody--commence to hunt for dem chillun. We look everywhere--in de hay-top, in de cotton gin-house, out on de prairie--_everywhere_. Den I saw Miss May--dat's yer granma, turn white-like, an' she say, 'Oh Delphy, oh James'--dat's yer grandpa--'de ole well in de field! de ole well in de field!'

"Over in de bayou-field--it done full up now, ole Mas' had a well dug to water de hosses out in. It war kivered up wid some bodes.

"I don't 'zactly 'member 'bout goin' over to de field, but when I got dar wid dem two babies in my arms an' stood 'long side o' Miss May--"

Mammy Delphy spoke more and more slowly. She had stopped picking the chicken, and great tears were rolling down her cheeks. The boys stood stricken and silent.

--"Stood 'long side o' Miss May, fus thing I hear war Jerry sayin'

weak-like an' way down in de well: 'Don't you cry, Mas' Will! Hol' on to my neck, Mas' Will! Hol' tight, Mas' Will! I kin hol' you up. Don't you be feerd Mas' Will, I kin hol' you up! Don't you be feerd Mas' Will; I kin hol' you up!'

"Ole Mas' lean over de well an' look in. Mas' Will he warn't as high as Jerry, an' Jerry he war standin in de water up to his neck an' hol'in'

Mas' Will up out'n de water. An' dem chillun had been in dat well all day, honey, 'all day, an' my Jerry holdin Mas' Will out'n de water; an'

dat water col' as ice! Den ole Mas' let down de rope dey fotch an' tole Mas' Will to ketch hol'. An Mas' Will--dat yer pappy, honey--he say, weak-like, 'Take Jerry too, pappy, take Jerry too!'

"'We'll get Jerry next time,' says ole Mas'. An' Jerry help Mas' Will fix de rope roun' him an' dey pull him up out'n de water. He done fainted when dey got him out, an' he tuk de fever, an' dat chile war sick mos'

six months, an' all de time he had de fever, he say: 'Take Jerry too, pappy, take Jerry too!' And when he come to hisself, he say right off:

"'Where's Jerry? I want Jerry.'"

Mammy Delphy stopped.

"And where _was_ Jerry, mammy?" cried the boys, breathless.

"'Where war Jerry?' Ole Mas' let down de rope an' say right loud: 'Ketch holt, Jerry my boy!' But Jerry couldn't ketch holt, chillen. Jerry war dead."

"_Oh mammy!_"

"Yes, chillun, yes. Dey rub him an' rub him, an' do everything to fotch him to life. But, my Jerry war dead. An' when me'n de ole man come home from de funeral--dey buried him in de white folks' buryin'-groun,' long side o' Miss May's little gal what died--an' put a tombstone at de head--when we come home from de funeral dat night, de ole man look at de baby on my lap an' he say, 'Delphy, honey,' he say, 'I think disher baby mout be name _Grief_.' An' we name him Grief."

Mammy Delphy wiped her eyes and resumed her work. Then, looking up to the blue sky which shone between the vines, she began singing again:

"Call me in de mornin' Lord, Or call me in de night, I'se always ready Lord, Glory Halla_lu_!"

And the boys, subdued and silent, and for a moment forgetful of horned-frogs and crawfish, went away softly, as if leaving a grave.

SAMMY SEALSKIN'S ENEMY.

"Where going, Sammy Sealskin?".

"Down to my kayah, Tommy Fishscales."

"Is there any fish to-day?"

"A few, they say, but there is lots of seals--plenty of 'em on the rocks in the bay."

"All right; bring home something to your friend, Tommy."

Sammy pushed off his kayah from sh.o.r.e. It was a funny sort of boat, according to our notions. It was only nine inches deep, and about a foot and a half wide in the middle, tapering to a point at either end and curving upward. It was about sixteen feet long. Its frame was of very light wood, and this was covered with tanned seal-skin. Sammy's mother was a Greenlander, and she could sew on seal-skin very handily, using sinews for thread; and she had covered her little boy's boat with seal-skin, leaving a hole in the centre just large enough to receive Sammy.

When he had dropped into his place, he then laced the lower border of his jacket to the rim of the hole, and there he was all snug--not a drop of water could get in. Grasping his single oar, about six feet long, with a paddle at either end, and flouris.h.i.+ng it in the water right and left, away swept the young fisherman.

"I should think his craft would be top-heavy, and over he would go,"

says some reader.

One naturally would think his craft would be top-heavy and over he would go, as the kayah has no keel and carries no ballast, and if we should try a kayah, it would certainly be on land. But those Greenlanders learn to handle themselves so well that their kayahs will go dancing over the big billows and then fly through a ragged, dangerous surf. From their kayahs, too, they will fight the fierce white bear.

Ah! Sammy, what is the matter?

"Ugh-h-h-h!"

Sammy gives a melancholy groan. He begins to suspect that his boat is leaking.

_Could_ any one have slit the seal-skin bottom?

The kayah is really settling.

Sammy feels troubled. "I _must_ go home," he says.

He turns his back upon the bright, beautiful sea, tufted with cakes of ice that seem in the distance like the white, pure lilies on a gla.s.sy pond, and paddles off home with good-by to the fis.h.i.+ng, good-by to the black-headed seals, good-by to the low islands with their gulls and mollimucks and burgomeisters and tern and kittiwakes and eider-ducks--good-by to the long day's fun!

"It makes me feel like a mad whale," said Sammy, "to be cheated out of my fis.h.i.+ng. I wonder who cut my kayah!"

Just then he looked off to the sh.o.r.e, and there stood Billy Blubber, an ancient enemy.

"There's the fellow," said Sammy. "He slit my kayah, I know. If I had him, I'd eat him quicker than a tern's egg. Just see how he looks!"

Billy did look exasperating. He saw everything and he enjoyed everything. Plainly he was the miscreant. He was waddling round on his stout little legs, flouris.h.i.+ng a huge jack-knife, and grinning as if he were going to have a big dish of whale-fat for dinner. He looked comical enough. He was dressed in seal-skin, and was bobbing up and down in his mother's seal-skin boots. The women's boots are of tanned seal-skin, bleached white and then colored. The boots of Billy's mother were very gay. They were bright red ones. When Billy from his tent-door saw Sammy coming, he crawled into the huge big boots, and bare-headed rushed--no, waddled out, to greet the discomfited fisherman.

"Billy, I'll give it to you?"

"Will you, Sammy? Try it, old boy."

Thereupon, he put his thumb to his nose and wriggled his finger as exasperatingly as any Yankee boy here in this enlightened land. His flat face, his black little eyes, his stubby little nose, his hair black as coal and long behind, but fas.h.i.+onably "banged" in front, the seal-skin suit, mother's big red boots, and the nasal gesture made a very interesting picture, and a most provoking one also.

"Billy, you _will_ catch it!"

"I should rather think you had caught it already. Did you bring any seal-fat, Sammy?"

Sammy felt mad enough and hot enough to set the water to boiling between his kayah and the sh.o.r.e.

"You had better run, Billy."