The Cruise of the Shining Light Part 52

"An' you're a true man?" she demanded.

"'Tis a word," says I, "that's between a man an' a maid. 'Tis nothing more."

She held me off. "An' you're true," she demanded, "to them that have loved you?"

"As may or may not appear," I answered.

"Ah, Dannie," she whispered, "I cannot doubt you!"

I remember the scent of the lilacs--I remember the dusk--the starlit sky.

"I have a word," I repeated, "to say to you."

"An' what's that?" says she.

"'Tis that I wish a kiss," says I.

She put up her dear red lips.

"Ay," says I, "but 'tis a case of no G.o.d between us. You know what I am and have been. I ask a kiss."

Her lips still invited me.

"I love you, Judith," says I, "and always have."

Her lips came closer.

"I would be your husband," I declared.

"Kiss me, Dannie," she whispered.

"And there is no G.o.d," says I, "between us?"

"There is no G.o.d," she answered, "against us."

I kissed her.

"You'll do it again, will you not?" says she.

"I'll kiss your sweet tears," says I. "I'll kiss un away."

"Then kiss my tears."

I kissed them away.

"That's good," says she; "that's very good. An' now?"

"I'll speak with my uncle," says I, "as you knowed I would."

I sought my uncle.

"Sir," says I, "where's the writing?"

"'Tis in your father's Bible," he answered.

I got it from the Book and touched a flaring match to it. "'Tis the end of _that_, sir," says I. "You an' me, sir," says I, "will be s.h.i.+pmates to the end of the voyage."

He rose.

"You're not able, sir," says I.

"I is!" he declared.

'Twas with difficulty he got to his feet, but he managed it; and then he turned to me, though I could see him ill enough in the dark.

"Dannie, lad," says he, "I 'low I've fetched ye up very well. Ye is,"

says he, "a--"

"Hus.h.!.+" says I; "don't say it."

"I will!" says he.

"Don't!" I pleaded.

"You _is_," he declared, "a gentleman!"

The night and the abominable revelations of it were ended for my uncle and me in this way....

And so it came about that the Honorable was troubled no more by our demands, whatever the political necessities that might a.s.sail him, whatever the sins of other days, the black youth of him, that might fairly beset and hara.s.s him. He was left in peace, to follow his career, restored to the possessions my uncle had wrested from him, in so far as we were able to make rest.i.tution. There was no more of it: we met him afterwards, in genial intercourse, but made no call upon his moneybags, as you may well believe. My uncle and I made a new partners.h.i.+p: that of Top & Callaway, of which you may have heard, for the honesty of our trade and the worth of the schooners we build. He is used to taking my hand, upon the little finger of which I still wear the seal-ring he was doubtful of in the days when Tom Bull inspected it. "A D for Dannie," says he, "an' a C for Callaway, an'

betwixt the two," says he, "lyin' snug as you like, is a T for Top!

An' that's the way I lies," says he, "ol' Top betwixt the Dannie an'

the Callaway. An' as for the business in trade an' schooners that there little ol' d.a.m.ned Chesterfieldian young Dannie haves builded from a paddle-punt, with Judy t' help un," says he, "why don't ye be askin' me!" And the business I have builded is good, and the wife I have is good, and the children are good. I have no more to wish for than my uncle and wife and children. 'Tis a delight, when the day's work is done, to sit at table, as we used to do when I was a child, with the geometrical gentleman framed in their tempestuous sea beyond, and to watch my uncle, overcome by Judith's persuasion, in his old age, sip his dram o' hot rum. The fire glows, and the maid approves, and my uncle, with his ailing timber comfortably bestowed, beams largely upon us.

"Jus' a nip," says he. "Jus' a wee nip o' the best Jamaica afore I goes t' bed."

I pour the dram.

"For the stomach's sake, Dannie," says he, with a gravity that twinkles against his will, "accordin' t' the Apostle."

And we are glad that he has that wee nip o' rum t' comfort him....

'Twas blowing high to-day. Tumm, of the _Quick as Wink_, beat into harbor for shelter. 'Twas good to know that the genial fellow had come into Twist Tickle. I boarded him. 'Twas very dark and bl.u.s.tering and dismally cold at that time. The schooner was bound down to the French sh.o.r.e and the ports of the Labrador. I had watched the clouds gather and join and forewarn us of wind. 'Twas an evil time for craft to be abroad, and I was glad that Tumm was in harbor. "Ecod!" says he, "I been up t' see the fool. They've seven," says he. "Ecod! think o'

that! I 'low Walrus Liz o' Whoopin' Harbor got all she wanted. Seven!"

cries he. "Seven kids! Enough t' stock a harbor! An' they's talk o'

one o' them," says he, "bein' trained for a parson." I think the man was proud of his instrumentality. "I've jus' come from the place,"