You know old Father Chiniquy had turned Protestant, so the Catholics hadn't much use for him. Well, we sat out in the gulf in the broiling sun till noon, and not a bite did we get. When we went ashore old Father Chiniquy had to go, so he said in that polite way of his, `I'm very sorry I cannot go out with you dis afternoon, Mr. MacAllister, but I leave you my blessing. You will catch a t'ousand dis afternoon.
`Well, we did not catch a thousand, but we caught exactly nine hundred and ninety-nine--the biggest catch for a small boat on the whole north shore that summer.
Curious, wasn't it? Alexander MacAllister, he says to Andrew Peters, `Well, and what do you think of Father Chiniquy now?' `Vell,' growled Andrew, `I t'ink de old devil has got a blessing left yet.' Laws, how Henry did laugh over that today!""Do you know who Mr. Ford is, Captain Jim?" asked Anne, seeing that Captain Jim's fountain of reminiscence had run out for the present. "I want you to guess."Captain Jim shook his head.
"I never was any hand at guessing, Mistress Blythe, and yet somehow when I come in I thought, `Where have Iseen them eyes before?'--for I HAVE seen 'em.""Think of a September morning many years ago," said Anne, softly. "Think of a ship sailing up the harbor--a ship long waited for and despaired of. Think of the day the Royal William came in and the first look you had at the schoolmaster's bride."Captain Jim sprang up.
"They're Persis Selwyn's eyes," he almost shouted.
"You can't be her son--you must be her--""Grandson; yes, I am Alice Selwyn's son."Captain Jim swooped down on Owen Ford and shook his hand over again.
"Alice Selwyn's son! Lord, but you're welcome! Many's the time I've wondered where the descendants of the schoolmaster were living. I knew there was none on the Island. Alice--Alice--the first baby ever born in that little house. No baby ever brought more joy! I've dandled her a hundred times. It was from my knee she took her first steps alone. Can't I see her mother's face watching her--and it was near sixty years ago. Is she living yet?""No, she died when I was only a boy."
"Oh, it doesn't seem right that I should be living to hear that," sighed Captain Jim. "But I'm heart-glad to see you. It's brought back my youth for a little while. You don't know yet what a boon THAT is.
Mistress Blythe here has the trick--she does it quite often for me."Captain Jim was still more excited when he discovered that Owen Ford was what he called a "real writing man." He gazed at him as at a superior being.
Captain Jim knew that Anne wrote, but he had never taken that fact very seriously. Captain Jim thought women were delightful creatures, who ought to have the vote, and everything else they wanted, bless their hearts; but he did not believe they could write.
"Jest look at A Mad Love," he would protest. "A woman wrote that and jest look at it--one hundred and three chapters when it could all have been told in ten. Awriting woman never knows when to stop; that's the trouble. The p'int of good writing is to know when to stop.""Mr. Ford wants to hear some of your stories, Captain Jim" said Anne. "Tell him the one about the captain who went crazy and imagined he was the Flying Dutchman."This was Captain Jim's best story. It was a compound of horror and humor, and though Anne had heard it several times she laughed as heartily and shivered as fearsomely over it as Mr. Ford did. Other tales followed, for Captain Jim had an audience after his own heart. He told how his vessel had been run down by a steamer; how he had been boarded by Malay pirates; how his ship had caught fire; how he helped a political prisoner escape from a South African republic; how he had been wrecked one fall on the Magdalens and stranded there for the winter; how a tiger had broken loose on board ship; how his crew had mutinied and marooned him on a barren island--these and many other tales, tragic or humorous or grotesque, did Captain Jim relate. The mystery of the sea, the fascination of far lands, the lure of adventure, the laughter of the world--his hearers felt and realised them all. Owen Ford listened, with his head on his hand, and the First Mate purring on his knee, his brilliant eyes fastened on Captain Jim's rugged, eloquent face.
"Won't you let Mr. Ford see your life-book, Captain Jim?" asked Anne, when Captain Jim finally declared that yarn-spinning must end for the time.
"Oh, he don't want to be bothered with THAT,"protested Captain Jim, who was secretly dying to show it.
"I should like nothing better than to see it, Captain Boyd," said Owen. "If it is half as wonderful as your tales it will be worth seeing."With pretended reluctance Captain Jim dug his life-book out of his old chest and handed it to Owen.
"I reckon you won't care to wrastle long with my old hand o' write. I never had much schooling," he observed carelessly. "Just wrote that there to amuse my nephew Joe. He's always wanting stories. Comes here yesterday and says to me, reproachful-like, as Iwas lifting a twenty-pound codfish out of my boat, `Uncle Jim, ain't a codfish a dumb animal?' I'd been a-telling him, you see, that he must be real kind to dumb animals, and never hurt 'em in any way. I got out of the scrape by saying a codfish was dumb enough but it wasn't an animal, but Joe didn't look satisfied, and I wasn't satisfied myself. You've got to be mighty careful what you tell them little critters. THEY can see through you."While talking, Captain Jim watched Owen Ford from the corner of his eye as the latter examined the life-book;and presently observing that his guest was lost in its pages, he turned smilingly to his cupboard and proceeded to make a pot of tea. Owen Ford separated himself from the life-book, with as much reluctance as a miser wrenches himself from his gold, long enough to drink his tea, and then returned to it hungrily.
"Oh, you can take that thing home with you if you want to," said Captain Jim, as if the "thing" were not his most treasured possession. "I must go down and pull my boat up a bit on the skids. There's a wind coming.
