The Coming Wave Part 5

Connected with Joel Wormbury, the father of Stumpy, there was a sad leaf of family history. At the age of twenty-three he had married a poor girl, who became a most excellent woman. Before this event he had been to sea, and had made several fis.h.i.+ng trips to the Banks. After his marriage, he worked at "coopering" when he could obtain this employment, and went a fis.h.i.+ng when he could not. When his first boy was born, he named him after the master of a bark with whom he had made a voyage up the Mediterranean, and who had been very kind to him during a severe illness at Palermo. Joel's father, uncles, and brother had all received Scripture names; and perhaps it would have been better if Joel himself had been equally scriptural in choosing names for his offspring, for the master of the bark was Captain Stumpfield, and the boy, Stumpfield Wormbury, was doomed to be called _Stumpy_ from the day he first went to school till he lost it in the dignity of manhood, though, even then, the unfortunate cognomen was applied to him by his old cronies.

Joel Wormbury was an industrious and prudent man, but his usual earnings were no more than sufficient to enable him to support his family; for, prudent as he was, it was impossible for him to be as mean as his father, who always insisted that Joel was extravagant.

Seven years before we introduce his son to the reader, the father made a trip to George's Bank. The vessel was lucky, and the "high liner's"

share--eight hundred and fifty odd dollars--came to Joel. But he had been out of work for some time, and was in debt; yet he honestly paid off every dollar he owed, and had over six hundred dollars left. With this he felt rich, and his wife thought their home ought to be more comfortably furnished. It was a hired house; and when two hundred dollars had been expended in furniture, Squire Moses declared that Joel had "lost his senses." But the tenement was made very comfortable and pleasant; and still Joel had four hundred dollars in cash. While he was thinking what he should do with this money, his father reproached him for his extravagance, and told him he ought to have built a house, instead of fooling away his money on "fancy tables and chairs," as he insisted upon calling the plain articles which his son had purchased.

The idea made a strong impression upon Joel, and he immediately paid a hundred dollars for half an acre of land in what was then an outskirt of the village. He wanted to build at once, and his father was finally induced to lend him seven hundred dollars, taking a mortgage on the land and buildings for security. The house was built, and the new furniture appeared to advantage in it. Joel was happy now, and did his best to earn money to pay off the mortgage. He made two more trips to the Georges, with only moderate success. All he could do for the next two years was to pay his interest and support his family.

Unfortunately, about this time, Joel "took to drinking;" not in a beastly way, though he was often "excited by liquor." He was not regarded as a drunkard, for he attended to his work and took good care of his family. There were, unhappily, several rum-shops in Rockhaven; and in one of these, one night, after Joel had been imbibing rather more freely than usual, he got into a dispute with Mike Manahan, an Irish quarryman, who was also warmed up with whiskey. Mike was full of Donnybrook pluck, and insisted upon settling the dispute with a fight, and struck his opponent a heavy blow in the face. Joel was a peaceable man, and perhaps, if he had been entirely sober, he would have been killed by his belligerent foe. As it was, he defended himself with a bottle from the counter of the saloon, which he smashed on the head of his furious a.s.sailant.

The blow with the bottle, which was a long and heavy one, felled Mike to the floor. He dropped senseless with the blood oozing from his head upon the sanded boards. Joel was appalled at what he had done; but he was sobered as well, and when some of the wounded man's friends attacked him in revenge, he fled from the saloon. But he went for the doctor, and sent him to Mike's aid. He was terribly alarmed as he considered the probable consequences of his rash deed. He dared not go home, lest the constable should be there to arrest him. Later in the evening he crept cautiously to the doctor's office, to ascertain the condition of his victim. The physician had caused Mike to be conveyed to his boarding-place, and had done all he could for him. In reply to Joel's anxious inquiries, he shook his head, and feared the patient would die.

He could not speak with confidence till the next day, but the worst was to be antic.i.p.ated. Joel was stunned by this intelligence. A charge for murder or manslaughter would be preferred against him, and the penalty for either was fearful to contemplate. He dared not go home to comfort his wife--if there could be any comfort under such circ.u.mstances.

Stealing down to the river in the gloom of the night, he embarked in a dory he owned, and before morning pulled twelve miles to a city on the other side of the bay, from which he made his way to Gloucester, where he obtained a lay in a fis.h.i.+ng-vessel bound to the Georges. When he was ready to sail, he wrote a long letter to his wife, explaining his situation. She had money enough to supply the needs of the family for a time for the purse had always been in her keeping. He asked her to write him in regard to the fate of Mike Manahan, and to inform him of what people said about the quarrel, so that he could get her letters on his return from the Georges, if there should be no opportunity of forwarding them to him.

Mrs. Wormbury was very much distressed at this unfortunate event; but it appeared in a few days that Mike was not fatally injured; and in a week he returned to his work. Mike was a good-hearted fellow, and as soon as he was able he called upon the wife of his late opponent, declaring that it was a fair fight, and that no harm should come to her husband when he returned.

Squire Moses declared that people who were extravagant often "took to drinking," and that he was not much surprised at what had happened.

Joel's wife was happy at the turn the affair had taken; and her husband's absence was no more than she had been called upon to endure before. She wrote several letters to him, with "all the news," and confidently expected her husband's return in a few weeks.

Instead of his return came a letter from the captain of the vessel in which he had sailed--a sad letter which shut out all hope for the future. Joel had gone off in a dory to attend to the trawls; a sudden fog had come up, so that he could not find the vessel, and his companions, after a day's search, had been unable to discover him. A storm had followed, and they had given him up for lost. The loss of a man in this way on the Banks was not a very uncommon occurrence.

Months and years pa.s.sed away, but nothing more was heard of Joel Wormbury. His wife and children believed that he was buried in the depths of the sea.

Mrs. Wormbury knew better than to apply to her hard father-in-law when her money was exhausted; indeed, she used the very last dollar of it to pay him the interest on the mortgage note. She went to work, taking in was.h.i.+ng for the rich people of the place and for the summer visitors.

Stumpy was old enough by this time to plant and take care of the garden, and to earn a little in other ways. Though the times were always hard at the cottage, the family had enough to eat and to wear, and the widow contrived to save enough to pay the interest on the place, which she dared to hope might one day belong to her children. Squire Moses never did anything for her, declaring that, if she wanted any money, she could sell her "fancy tables and chairs," for the house was better furnished than his own; which was true.

The squire's wealth continued to increase, for he was so mean that he spent only a small fraction of his interest money. He was hard and unfeeling, and not only refused to help his son's fatherless family, but had been heard to say that Joel by his drunken brawl, had disgraced his name and his relations. Ethan, the keeper of the Island Hotel, seemed to be his favorite; and people who knew him declared that he was as mean as his father. Somebody pretended to know that the old man had made a will, giving nearly all his property to Ethan. However this may have been, it was certain that Squire Moses had several times threatened to take possession of the cottage occupied by Joel's family, for the princ.i.p.al of the mortgage note was now due. He had said this to Joel's widow, causing the poor woman the deepest distress, and rousing in Stumpy the strongest indignation. This was why Stumpy "took no stock" in his grandfather.

But while we have been telling all this long story about Leopold's companion, the old boat had reached the vicinity of the wreck. Stumpy had eaten his fill of cold roast beef, biscuit, and apple pie, and was entirely satisfied with himself, and especially with his friend. Leopold threw overboard the ground bait, and soon, with a shout of exultation, he announced the presence of a school of mackerel. The lines were immediately in the water, and the fish bit very sharply. Leopold and Stumpy had nothing to do but pull them in and "slat" them off as fast as they could. The boat was filling up very rapidly; but suddenly, the school, as though called in after recess, sank down and disappeared. Not another bite could be obtained, and the old boat was headed for the river. On the way up, Stumpy counted the mackerel.

"Four hundred and sixty!" exclaimed he, when the task was finished.

"That isn't bad," added Leopold.

"I threw out all the small ones--about twenty of them."

"We will keep those to eat."

In half an hour more there was a tremendous excitement in and around the fish market, caused by the arrival of the fare of mackerel.

CHAPTER V.

HERR SCHLAGER.

Four hundred and sixty mackerel, besides about twenty "tinkers," was a big fare for that season; but when this fish bite they make a business of it and an expert in the art may catch from forty to sixty in a minute. It was exciting work, and the blood of Leopold and Stumpy had been up to fever heat. But this violent agitation had pa.s.sed away, though it was succeeded by a sensation hardly less exhilarating. Though the fish were caught and in the boat, the game was not played out--to return to the comparison with the gambler. The excitement still continues and would continue until the fish were sold. The great question now was, What would the mackerel bring in the market? Even a difference of a cent in the price of a single fish made four dollars and sixty cents on the whole fare. Leopold had received a large price the day before, and he could only hope he should do as well on the present occasion. He was almost as deeply moved in regard to the price as he had been in regard to catching the fish.

"I have made a big day's work for me, Le, whatever price they bring,"

said Stumpy, shortly after he had finished counting the fish. "If you sell them at five cents apiece, I shall have five dollars and three quarters; and that is more than I can generally earn in a week."

"I won't sell them for five cents apiece, Stumpy," replied Leopold, very decidedly.

"If they won't bring any more than that, what are you going to do about it?" laughed Stumpy.

"Mackerel are very scarce this season, and I don't believe they have had any over at Rockland. If the folks in the fish market don't give me ten cents apiece for the lot, I shall sail over there. I am almost sure I can get ten cents for mackerel as handsome as these are. Besides, about all I brought in yesterday were sold before sundown."

"Then I shall be eleven dollars and a half in," added Stumpy. "My mother wants about so much to make out her interest money. If she don't pay it we shall be turned out doors before the sun goes down on the day it is due."

"Do you think so?" asked Leopold, with a deep expression of sympathy.

"O, I know it. My grandad is an amiable man. He don't put off till to-morrow what can be done to-day, when anybody owes him any money."

"It seems to me I would rather go to jail than owe him a dollar."

"So would I; and I only wish my mother could pay off the mortgage!

Things have gone up in Rockhaven, and the place that cost my father eleven hundred dollars seven years ago, is worth eighteen hundred or two thousand now. My affectionate grandpa knows this just as well as my mother; and if he can get the place for the seven hundred we owe him, he will do it. He says it is too expensive a place for poor folks who haven't got anything."

"But if the place is worth two thousand dollars, your mother will get all over the seven hundred, when it is sold," suggested Leopold, who had considerable knowledge of business.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BIG CATCH OF MACKEREL. Page 85.]

"The house and land are worth just what I say; or, at least, they were a year ago, though the war has knocked things higher than a kite just now.

n.o.body except my loving grandpa has got the ready cash to pay down; and mother thinks the place wouldn't fetch much, if anything, over the mortgage. But in time it will be worth two thousand dollars."

The arrival of the old boat at the wharf, and the commencement of the excitement in and around the fish market, terminated the conversation on Stumpy's worldly affairs. As the dingy craft approached the pier, a crowd gathered at the head of the landing-steps, for it had been noised about the town that Leopold had brought in a fare of mackerel the day before; and people were anxious to know whether he had repeated his good luck.

A great many boats had gone out that morning after mackerel, but none of them had yet returned. Foremost in the crowd on the wharf was Bangs, the senior member of the firm that kept the fish market. He was excited and anxious, though he struggled to be calm and indifferent when Leopold fastened the painter of his boat to the steps.

"What luck to-day, Le?" shouted Bangs, who could not see the fish, for the careful Leopold had covered them in order to keep them from injury from the sun, and so that the extent of his good fortune might not at once be seen by the idlers on the wharf.

"Pretty fair," replied Leopold, striving to be as calm and indifferent as the dealer in fish on the pier.

"What have you got?" inquired Bangs.

"Mackerel," answered Leopold, as he seated himself in the stern-sheets of the boat, with affected carelessness.

"Tinkers?"

"No; the same sort that I sold you yesterday."

"What do you ask for them?" inquired Bangs, looking up at the sky as though nothing on the earth below concerned him.

"Ten cents," replied Leopold, looking up at the sky in turn, as though nothing sublunary concerned him, either.