Harper's Round Table, June 25, 1895 Part 3

When the negative is dry, place it in an envelope, number and mark it, and place it in some place where it may be found without trouble.

BILL TYBEE AND THE BULL.

YARN OF A WHALEMAN ON Sh.o.r.e.

BY W. J. HENDERSON.

"And didn't yeou never have nothin' more to do with whalin'?" asked Farmer Joe.

"Oh, well," Handsome answered, "I never said that I gave up whaling for good and all. You know, sailors never know when they're well off."

"Waal," said Farmer Joe, "it 'pears to me that this 'ere's abaout a good time to tell us some more on 't."

"Did I ever tell you about going whaling on sh.o.r.e?"

"Git aout!" exclaimed Farmer Joe.

"You don't believe it, eh? Did you never hear of Amagansett, Long Island? That's where all good whalemen go when they get to be too old to go to sea. They have their boats there, and when a whale heaves in sight off sh.o.r.e they put right out through the surf, and generally there's one dead whale in those parts when they come back. But it isn't about that I'm going to tell you, because chasing whales in boats is all the same whether you start from sh.o.r.e or a s.h.i.+p. But down there's where I met old Bill Tybee."

"Who were he?" asked Farmer Joe.

"He was a very old sailor, who'd quit the sea, and was running a sort of express business. That is, he had a horse and wagon, and used to cart things for people. He was a great old chap, I tell you, and the yarns he used to tell would have sc.r.a.ped barnacles off the back door of the North Pole. His horse was so old he couldn't move at any pace except a sort of dog-trot, and the wagon rumbled and squeaked like a fife-and-drum corps.

One day I said to Bill that I'd like to know why he didn't get a new horse and wagon, and then he told me a regular hair-twister. I'm going to tell it to you, and I'm going to tell it just the way Bill told it to me."

Handsome s.h.i.+fted his seat a foot or two, took a round turn around his foot and tested the splice which he had been making, and then s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g his face up in imitation of "old Bill Tybee," he began.

"Git a new hoss an' waggin, hey? I ain't no dude. Nex' thing I 'spect you'll be wantin' me to run a tally-hoo coach to take beach-combers out a clam-diggin'. New hoss an' waggin! Say, I had 'em oncet, an' I don't want 'em no more. I got all the trouble I want now, without havin' a cantankerous young colt a tryin' to jump fences with me an' the waggin.

Say, I'm goin' to tell you 'bout the new hoss an' waggin I had oncet, an' then I leave it to you, if you was me an' I was you, would you try it on some more. 'Bout two year ago come Thanksgivin' I got so sot up in bizness that I bought Farmer Hiram Smoggs's brown colt, that were jes seven year old that fall, an' his one-hoss farm waggin wot Fin Dooley had jes painted redder'n a new can-buoy on the starboard side o' a s.h.i.+p channel. I gave him this 'ere hoss an' waggin wot I'm a-drivin' now to boot. Werry good. I got aboard my new waggin, and h'isted my whip, an'

whistled the 'Star-Spangled Banner,' and sez I, 'Thar, gol bust ye, you're in commission, ye wall-sided hooker,' sez I. Then I got under way fur my fust cruise. It were plain sailin' gittin' out o' the harbor, an', as the weather were fair with a stiddy wind, I let the colt go along under plain sail. Waal, I hadn't gone more'n a couple o' cable lengths w'en ole Widdy Moriarty she comes down to the sea-wall on her place, an' sings out to me. So I hove the colt to, an' I axes her, 'Wot's up, mate?' An' she says she wants me fur to take a box o' heggs down to the Fraser Bellew's grocery store. So I filled away on the colt, an' luffed up alongside o' the sea-wall, an' made him fast to a pile wot were stickin' up. I got the heggs, an' stowed 'em right forrard in the forepeak o' the waggin. I got aboard, an' filled away on my course ag'in.

"Werry good. Nex' I war hove to by Pete Maguff, a cullud man, who put a bar'l o' maple syrup aboard. Then Jim Penn he puts in a bar'l o' flour fur me to take back to ole man Bellew 'cos 'twarn't the right kind. Them two bar'ls pooty nigh filled up the whole waist o' the waggin.

Howsumever, w'en Hank Mosher axed me to take a bar'l o' apples aboard I carkilated I could git her under the break o' the tailboard, an' I did.

Pussonally, I war now usin' the box o' heggs fur a bridge, an' were a-steerin' the colt from there. Bein' loaded right down to the Plimsoll's mark, I didn't go to crackin' on sail, but let the colt go along under his lower tops'ls like. All right, sez you. But allus keep a bright lookout fur squalls, sez I. Werry good. I hadn't logged off more'n half a knot w'en Farmer Powley's ten-acre pasture were on my starboard hand, an' his black-an'-white bull, Napoleon Bonyparty, were standin' plum in the middle o' the same. Now w'en that 'ere bull seed that 'ere red waggin he knowed it warn't the ole merchant hooker wot he'd seed me a-steerin' up an' down that road so long. Nope; he med up his mind it were a foreign cruiser, an' sez he to hisself, 'This are where I shows 'em wot kind o' a coast-defense ram I are.' So he blowed one whistle, hooked on, an' come down the field under forced draught, turnin' up a mos' terrible starn wave o' dust on account o' the pasture bein' werry shallow water. I hailed him, an' told him it war me, but he couldn't hear nothin'. All he could do war to see a red waggin. So, seein' that he war a-goin' to ram, I ups an' I lets fall to'gallants an'

royals onto the colt, an' away we went dead afore the wind at a twelve-knot gait. The bull didn't stop fur to jump the fence. He jes went through it. Now it were a starn chase right up the hill.

"Werry good. But afore I'd got fur I heard a thump, an' lookin' round I seed Hank Mosher's bar'l o' apples'd bounced out over the starn, an'

were a-rollin' down the hill at a ginerally lively gait. Gos.h.!.+ You'd ort to see the bull clear that bar'l. Say, flyin'-fish would have to take lessons from him. Waal, havin' lightened s.h.i.+p by losin' some o' my cargo I reckoned I'd make better speed; but I didn't seem to gain werry much onto the bull. He follered me right slap inter town, an' then there war a sort o' grand general mixification, sich as never war seed afore or sence.

"Fust place, everybody begin fur to yell. One sez murder, an' another sez fire. Wimmen screeched an' boys hollered, an' the bull he bellered louder'n any on 'em. Jehosaphat Book, the cullud dominie, he run out an'

tried to jump inter the waggin. Jes at that minute the bar'l o' flour give a bounce up in the air. The head o' the bar'l fell out, an' the bar'l, flour, an' all came down over Jehosaphat's head. Afore he could git it off the bull war there, an' he jes picked up Jehos an' his bar'l an' fired 'em right through the winder o' the school-haouse. Jehos landed in the middle o' the floor, an' comin' out o' the bar'l he war all white. The chillen set up a yell, 'Ghost! ghost!' an' afore the teacher knowed wot'd happened school war out. Jehos picked hisself up, an' saw hisself in the lookin'-gla.s.s. Then he let out a squeal an'

started fur the street. He thort he'd turned white.

"But that warn't the wust of 't. That there bar'l o' apples a-rollin'

down-hill had fetched up ag'in the feet o' Blind Billy Bunker's team o'

mules, an' they'd started off on a dead run with bar'l hoops a flappin'

round their legs. They came into town a quarter o' a mile astarn o' me, and jes in time to meet Jehos w'en he come out in the street all white.

He scared them mules so bad that they stopped right in their tracks, an'

Billy Bunker war shot off the seat o' his waggin an' out into the road on his head. He got up an' made a grab fur the fust thing that he could feel, an' it were Jehos. Billy war so mad that he punched Jehos's head an' Jehos punched back, an' there was the cullud minister, all white, a-fightin' in the middle o' the street with a blind man. An' the sheriff he came along an' arrested 'em both, an' Jedge Sooter fined Jehos five dollars fur disturbin' o' the peace, w'en he'd ort to have fined the bull.

"But that warn't the wust of 't. All this time me an' the bull was still a-goin'. Somebody'd hollered fire, an' somebody else'd run off to the fire-engine house, an' told 'em that they'd got to come quick or the whole bloomin' town'd go. Jes then the red waggin hit a stone in the middle o' the street, an' she pitched so hard she hove her tailboard right up into the air an' overboard. That tailboard were jes as red as anythin', an' w'en the bull seed it soarin' in the air like a ole-time round sh.e.l.l with a navy time-fuse, he jes got clean crazy. He ketched it onto his horns, an' lowerin' his head sc.r.a.ped up about two tons o' dust, an' hove dust an' all right through the big front winder o' Jeremiah Boggs's book an' newspaper store. The firemen seein' all the dust, thought it war smoke, an' they comes up with their engine an' lets drive a stream o' water a foot thick right through the hole in the winder, an'

completely sp'iled the whole shop.

"But that warn't the wust of 't. Jeremiah's brindle bull-dog were asleep under the counter, an' that there stream o' water hit him ca-plum in the middle o' the back. He let out one yell, an' out o' the shop he went an'

down the street all drippin' wet an' squealin' like a pig. Everybody wot seed him hollered 'Mad dog! mad dog!' An' then ole Willum Henry Peet, the constable, he got clean rattled, an' pulled out his rewolwer an'

beginned to shoot all over the country. As me an' the bull was still a-goin' I didn't see that, but I could hear it. Waal, Willum Henry's shootin' started up some other folks, an' putty soon there war a whole rigimint o' people out in the street a-shootin', an' not hittin'

anythin' 'ceptin' winders, w'ich the same they busted forty-seven. The firemen findin' they'd made a mistake, an' there warn't no fire, said as how Jeremiah'd sent out a false alarm, an' they started to lick him.

Some o' his friends come to help him, an' in five minutes there war a reg'lar riot right out in front o' his store.

"All this time me an' the bull war still a-goin'. I didn't seem to gain much onto him, so I set the royals an' the stu'ns'ls onto the colt, although it were werry stormy weather, an' I made up my mind that if somethin' didn't carry away I'd be able to hold him right where he war.

I had to keep goin' right straight ahead. 'Cos w'y: if I'd 'a' put the helm hard over fur to turn a corner, I'd 'a' rolled the deck-house right off'n my red hooker. Waal, a leetle furder up the street we comes to Peanut Brewer, with his black horse a-standin' dead still. He'd balked, an' Peanut war sittin' on top o' a load o' hay a-sayin' bad words at him. Mrs. Mehitabel Saggs's little boy come out with a big fire-cracker to set off under the hoss an' make him start. At that werry minute Pete Maguff's bar'l o' maple syrup on my waggin' give a jounce, and went by the board over the port rail. That there bar'l rolled right under Peanut's hoss jes as the fire-cracker busted. It sot fire to the bar'l, an' she blazed right up. 'Now,' sez Peanut, 'my ole black hoss'll start,' sez he. An' so he did. He started an' went jes fur enough to pull the waggin' right over the fire, an' then he stopped. Waal, sir, Peanut had to jump fur his life, fur that load o' hay blazed up in half a second. The fire company war on the dead run fur home w'en they seed the blaze, an' down they come at their finest gait, with Jeremiah Boggs an' his gang astarn o' them, keepin' up a permiskious fire o' stones, sticks, an' termatter cans an' sich things. Jes then Jeremiah's dog come around the corner with forty boys a-chasin' him an' yellin' 'Mad dog.'

He run right under Peanut Brewer's black hoss, an' that started him.

Yaas, sir, he got right up onto his hind legs, an' away he went down the street licketty-split, pullin' a load o' hay on fire. By that time everybody in town were putty nigh crazy, an' the President o' the village had telegraphed fur the militia to come."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "ALL THE TIME THE BULL WERE ATTENDIN' STRICTLY TO BIZNESS."]

"All the time the bull were attendin' strickly to bizness. The colt war all covered with foam, an' I made up my mind that afore long he war a-goin' fur to give out, an' me an' the bull would have to settle the question atween ourselves, in w'ich case the bettin' would all 'a' bin in favor o' the bull. So I kinder considers a little, an' all on a suddint I recommembered them heggs. I yanked the top off'n the box, an'

diskivered that most o' the heggs was scrambled--raw--but still scrambled. Howsumever, there was a few that wasn't. So I took one o'

them an' hove it at the bull. It hit him smack on the middle o' the forehead. Waal, if he'd been mad afore, he war crazy now. He let out a roar that made my bones rattle, an' he opened out his last link o'

speed. Now he commenced fur to gain on me, hand over fist; so I made up my mind to do somethin' desprit. I put the helm hard a-starboard, an'

steered the colt into a narrer channel wot led right down to the bay.

The bull he tried to cut short goin' round the corner, an' he run into the lamp-post, w'ich the same he knocked clean down into Parker's bas.e.m.e.nt, where Johannes Pfeiffenschneider, the cobbler, works, an'

scared Johannes so that he sp'iled Miss Beasley's Sunday shoes, an' lost putty nigh all his trade.

"Down at the foot o' the street war Mark Rogers's oyster sloop _Betsey Jane_, lyin' alongside o' the wharf. On the wharf war about ten million oyster sh.e.l.ls, all piled up. 'Now,' sez I to myself, sez I, 'here's where I've got to stop the bull.' I steered the colt right straight at that reef o' sh.e.l.ls, trustin' to our speed an' our shaller draft to carry us right over. There war a smash, crash, biff! an' over we went.

Then I jumped up, grabbed the box o' scrambled heggs, an' hove 'em straight in the bull's face. Waal, gol bust me if that there bull didn't look like the gran'father o' all omlets. He was clean blinded fur a minute, an' he kicked out with all four legs in the middle o' the reef, till the air war white with flying oyster sh.e.l.ls. He kicked so many of 'em into the bay that Mark had to dredge out a new channel. Then he got his eyes clear a minute an' he seed me a-laffin'. He jes made one jump, an' he got under the waggin' with his head. The next thing I knowed I war in the bay. That there bull jes picked up waggin', colt, an' me, an'

he hove us straight off the dock an' into the bay."

"And what happened after that?" I asked.

"Waal, we had to swim out, o' course. It killed the colt, that cold bath arter bein' so heated, an' the waggin' was busted into kindlin' wood.

An' the bull? Oh, yaas, the bull. Waal, he was puffickly satisfied, an'

he went up along the side o' the road an' eat gra.s.s jes as if he'd never did nothin' else in all his life. Now, my son, you know w'y I don't git a new hoss an' waggin. I bin there, an' w'en I bin to a place wot's not to my likin' I knows enough not to go back. Git ep!"

SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.

BY KIRK MUNROE.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

LOST IN A MOUNTAIN BLIZZARD.