_From Miss Helen Jelliffe to Miss Jane Van Zandt_
_Dearest Aunt Jennie_:
I did try so hard to get you to come on this cruise with us. You said you
preferred remaining in Newport to sharing in a wild journey to places one
has never heard of, and now I am compelled to recognize your superior
wisdom. I wish we had never heard of this dreadful hole. I am now reduced
to the condition of a weepful Niobe, utterly helpless to contend against
the sad trend of events. I know how much you disapprove of lingering,
being such an active little body, and so I will tell you the worst at
once. Poor dear Daddy has just broken his leg, and, of all places, in the
most forsaken hole and corner of this dreary island of Newfoundland.
Daddy has always boasted of his perseverance in the pursuit of the
unusual in sport. This time he found it with a vengeance. Our mate, who
hails from these parts, once told him of this place, and implied that the
salmon in the little river running down into this cove would take a fly
whether awake or asleep, and jostled one another for the privilege. While
Daddy is rather fond of a gun, you and I know that there are only two
weapons he is really absorbed in. I suppose that the first is the
instrument he uses to cut off coupons with, and the next is his salmon
rod, which I would like to break into little pieces, for it has been the
cause of turning our long bowsprit towards this horrid jumble of rock and
sea. I considered that we were lucky to have found our way into
Sweetapple Cove without any particular disaster, but of course such luck
could not last long.
We ought never to have come any way, for our skipper, the descendant of
Vikings, had implied that our schooner was in need of all sorts of
repairs, and that sensible people did not start off on long cruises just
after months in Florida which had converted the ship's bottom into a sort
of vegetable garden. Daddy consoled him by telling him he could leave us
there and go off to St. John's to the dry-dock.
You know how pleasantly Daddy speaks to people, and how they detect under
his words a firmness which effectively prevents long discussion.
Stefansson is really a racing skipper, but he likes his berth on the
_Snowbird_ and said nothing more. We reached this place where, for lack
of level ground, the few houses use all sorts of stilts and crutches, and
invaded the village to the intense amazement of the populace and its
dogs.
Then came Daddy's genius for organization. Within two hours we had rented
a little house for next to nothing a week, furnished it in sixty minutes
with odds and ends from the yacht, including our little brass bedsteads,
which the people here firmly believe to be pure gold, A wild daughter of
the Cove, a descendant of the family that gave it its extraordinary name,
was engaged as a general servant. Daddy's valet and the cook had wept
when they saw the place, and Father informed them that they were rubbish
and might go back with the _Snowbird_, which presently sailed off for the
scraping it appears to be entitled to.
Daddy at once selected a rod with all the care such affairs of state
require, and set forth across the cove with two natives, in a dory. They
went ashore on the banks of the little river and began to clamber over a
terrific jumble of rocks. A salmon was caught so quickly that Father grew
boyish with enthusiasm and capered over more rocks.
And then came the accident, Aunt Jennie, and I am still shaky, and
tearful, and though I try to write like a normal human being I am
desirous of shrieking. There was just a slip and a fall, and a foot
caught between two boulders. Poor Daddy was dragged from the swift water
into which he had been wading and placed in the bottom of the dory, a
most damp and smelly ambulance.
Of course I dashed down to the shore as soon as people came to tell me
what had happened, and naturally I got into everybody's way. It was
strange to see how these very rough-looking men took hold of poor Daddy.
They were just as gentle as could be, and made an arrangement of
fish-carrying barrows upon which they lifted him up and brought him to
the house.
I was weeping all this time and Daddy consoled me by telling me not to be
a fool. Susie, our new handmaiden, simply howled. We were bundled out,
chiefly by Daddy's language, and clamored for a doctor. It actually
transpired that there was one in the place, to my infinite relief. The
fact that he was gone to a little island away out at sea appeared to be
but an insignificant detail. An ancient mariner whom Coleridge must have
been acquainted with promised to go and bring him back. If the weather
did not turn out too badly he would return in three or four hours. He
informed me that it was beginning to look very nasty outside. It always
does, in such cases, I believe.
I spent the afternoon trying to do all I could for Daddy, and
occasionally climbed up on the cliff nearly adjoining our house, to watch
for the boat. An abominable fog began to come up, rolling before a
dreadful wind, and I moistened more handkerchiefs, since it was perfectly
evident to me that no small boat would ever return to land in such a
blow. Susie told me that I must not despair, and that people did really
manage to work fishing boats in such weather, sometimes. I considered her
to be a cheerful prevaricator, and told her she didn't know what she was
talking about. At this she curtsied humbly and assented with the "Yis,
ma'am" of the lowly, and all I could do was to keep on despairing.
It was really the most dismal afternoon I ever spent, and when it began
to get dark I gave up all hope. After I had become thoroughly saturated
with misery Susie came to me, grinning.
"I's heerd men a comin'," she told me. "Like as not it's th' doctor."
I dashed out of the front door and met two dreadful looking creatures in
oilskins. As one of them was the ancient mariner I made up my mind he had
failed in his mission. But the other stared at me for an instant, quietly
stepped on the few planks we call the porch, and began to shed his outer
skin, which fell with a flop.
"Are you the doctor?" I finally asked him.
He bowed, very civilly, followed me into the house, and the other man
placidly sat down on the porch, while the slanting rain rattled on his
armour. I need hardly tell you that these people are as amphibious as
manatees.
Once within doors I scrutinized the doctor. He was a rather nice tall
chap with hair showing slightly the dearth of barbers in Sweetapple Cove,
a fact Daddy had informed himself of, for I had seen him looking
disconsolately at a safety razor. This man was also rather badly
unshaven, and a blue flannel shirt with a sodden string of a necktie
formed part of his apparel. I have seen healthy longshoremen rather more
neatly garbed. I'm afraid that at first I was badly disappointed.
I stood at the door of father's room, which is also the parlor and dining
room, hesitating foolishly. At last I asked the man to come in.
"Daddy dear, here is the doctor," I said.
You know that father does not consider himself merely as a tax-payer, and
a connoisseur in split bamboos. He prides himself upon his knowledge of
men and, before trusting himself to this one, had to study him carefully.
I could see that he was taken a little by surprise.
"Er--er," he hesitated, "are you a physician, sir?"
"Appearances are deceptive in these jumping-off places," answered the
young man. "I possess a diploma or two, and such knowledge as I have is
entirely at your service."
He didn't really seem to be at all embarrassed. His look was rather a
pleasant one, after all, and suddenly I became inspired with confidence.
I think Daddy was impressed in the same way.
"I'm in an awful fix," he announced. "I am quite sure that my leg is
broken, and of course it requires the very best attention. I can afford
to take no chances with it and need a first-class man. Are you quite
sure...?"
The doctor sat down by the bed, quietly, and appeared to look at Daddy
understandingly. He doubtless realized that he was in the presence of
one of those men whose success in life, together with the possession of
grand-parents, causes them to regard themselves as endowed with the
combined wisdom of the law and the prophets. I am quite sure that he also
detected the big fund of common sense which lurks in the keen grey eyes
under Daddy's bushy eye-brows.
"You have my deepest sympathy, Mr. Jelliffe," he began. "I need hardly
point out the fact that I am the only doctor available. I am going to do
my very best for you. They have some very good men in St. John's, and we
may be able to get one of them to come down here, in a few days, to look
over my work. In the meanwhile your leg must be attended to so that no
further harm will be done. Let us have a look at it."
"I'll have to trust you," said Daddy, very soberly.
"Of course you will have to, Daddy," I put in. "You must be very good.
When you move your poor leg hurts you dreadfully, and the doctor will fix
it so that it won't be so painful."
I stood at the head of the bed and poor Daddy allowed me to stroke his
hand, a thing he usually resents. I know that he was in great pain and
feared other unknown tortures. The poor man looked at the tall doctor's
big hands as if he deemed them instruments of potential torture. One
really couldn't blame him for having scant confidence in a man whose
business appears to be the care of this poverty-stricken population.
The doctor was pulling off his heavy pea-jacket and appeared in dark blue
flannel which revealed very capable shoulders. They reminded me of Harry
Lawrence. The ancient mariner came in with a bag he had been sent for. He
had also deposited his oilskins on the porch and respected other
conventionalities by removing his great muddy boots and entering the room
in huge flaming scarlet socks, neatly darned with white yarn. He smiled
blandly at Daddy.
"Hope you is feelin' some better, sir," he said. "Don't you be talkin',
for if you isn't t'won't be no time afore you is. You're sure in luck as
how I could bring him, an' I'll jist lay yer a quintal as how he's goin'
to fix yer shipshape."
Then there was a knock at the door and a dripping woman entered. There
was not the slightest trace of timidity in her manner. Really, Aunt
Jennie, I thought at first that she was the most awful frump I had ever
seen. Her head was wrapped in a soaking little shawl, and her dress was a
remnant of grand-mother's days. Yet the poise of her head, the pleasant
smile upon her face and, more than all, her delightful voice, gave an
immediate hint of infinitely good breeding.
"Can't I help?" she asked. "I'd be awfully glad to. I should have been in
before but I was detained at the Burtons'. Had to look after the woman
during your absence, Dr. Grant."
"I beg to introduce the providence of Sweetapple Cove," said the doctor.
"Mrs. Barnett is the one person who proves the vulgar error that none of
us is indispensable."
She threw off her shawl, laughing.
"The doctor and I often hunt in couples," she explained.
Her voice was really the most delightful thing you ever heard. I forgot
her clothes, and her big boots, and went up to her, holding out my hand.
"Won't you let me take your shawl?" I asked. "It is sopping wet."
"I had an umbrella when I first came here," she said, "but it blew over
the cliffs long ago. Thanks, ever so much. And now what can I do?"
"You are always on hand when help is needed, Mrs. Barnett," said the
doctor. "Thank you for coming. I shall need you in a minute."
She gave him a quick little friendly nod and went to the bed.
"I hope that you are not suffering too much," she told Daddy. "Dr. Grant
will have you all right in a jiffy."
"Thank you, madam," said Daddy, staring at her.
The doctor had been pulling endless things out of his bag. For all of
their size his hands showed a quality of gentle firmness that was quite
surprising and Daddy, under his ministrations, appeared to become less
apprehensive.
"Now, Mrs. Barnett," directed Dr. Grant. "One hand under the knee, if you
please, and the other should hold the heel. That's the way."
Rapidly he wound some cotton batting about the injured limb. Daddy had
given one awful groan when his leg was pulled straight, but now he
watched the winding of bandages and the application of plaster of Paris
without saying a word. The doctor finally rubbed the whole thing smooth.
"That's all right now," he said. "We will let the leg down again."
Between them they gently lowered the limb upon a hollowed pillow, and
Daddy looked much relieved.
"That is all for the present," said the doctor. "I hope we didn't hurt
you too much, Mr. Jelliffe."
"I think it will be easier now," admitted Daddy. "I can't say that you
made me suffer very much. I am obliged to you, and also to you, madam."
She treated him to a gentle, motherly smile, and grabbed her old wet
shawl again.
"I'd be ever so glad to stay with you all night," she said, "but
unfortunately one of my kiddies is teething and wants me rather badly.
May I call in the morning?"
By this time father was utterly captured.
"You would be ever so kind," he said. "I can hardly thank you
sufficiently."
She refused proffers of umbrellas and water-proofs, laughingly saying
that she could not reach home much wetter than she was, and disappeared.
"Our parson's wife, Miss Jelliffe," explained Dr. Grant, "and the nearest
thing to a blessing that Sweetapple Cove has ever known, I should say."
"She must be," I assented. "She is perfectly charming."
Then he went in the next room, where the mariner was waiting, sitting in
a chair and contemplating his red socks.
"We're off again to-morrow morning to Will's Island," said the doctor.
"Just let Frenchy know, will you? We shall start as soon as possible
after I have found out how Mr. Jelliffe has passed the night."
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the old man, lifting a gnarled hand to his
tousled locks.
The doctor looked around him. His big frame seemed to relax, and a
compelling yawn forced him to lift his hand to his mouth. Then he came in
again.
"Good night, Mr. Jelliffe," he said. "I'll be here the first thing in the
morning. You may take this little tablet if the pain is severe, but don't
touch it unless you are really compelled to."
Daddy stretched out his hand, in a very friendly way, and he certainly
looked approvingly at the young man. Then I accompanied the latter to the
outer door. It was still raining and the wind blew hard.
"Good night, Miss Jelliffe," he bade me. "Your father's injury is quite a
simple one and I have no doubt we shall obtain a good result."
He picked up his oilskins and put them on again.
"Thank you," was all I could find to say. His long steps rapidly carried
him away and he disappeared in the misty blackness.
When I returned the old fisherman, whose name is Sammy, was standing by
father's bed.
"It seems to me," complained Daddy, "that he might have offered to stay
with me all night. I call it rather inconsiderate of him."
"We is fixed fer that, sir," asserted Captain Sammy. "I be goin' ter stay
wid' yer. I'll jist set down by the stove and, case I should git ter
sleep, jist bawl out or heave somethin' at me. First I'll go an' git a
bite er grub, jist a spud er two an' a dish o' tea; likely th' old woman
has some brooze fer me, waitin'. I'll be back so soon ye'll hardly know I
been gone."
He looked at us, his kindly old face lighting up into a smile. Then he
pointed with a stubby thumb in the direction the doctor had taken.
"He've been up three nights a-savin' Dick Will's arm, as means the livin'
o' he and the woman an' seven young 'uns. I mistrust he'll maybe fall
asleep a-walkin' less he hurries. 'Tis a feelin' I knows, keepin' long
watches on deck when things goes hard."
"But I can watch my father," I protested.
"So yer could, fer a fact," he admitted, "but yer couldn't run out handy
an' fetch doctor, so I might as well stay here an' ye kin do a job of
sleepin'."
As he hurried out Susie came in from the kitchen, buxom and rosy of
cheek.
"Th' kittle's biled ef you is ready," she announced. "Yer must be
a-perishin' fer a sup an' a bite."
I shall have to stop now, Aunt Jennie dear, and goodness knows when this
will reach you, as mails are very movable feasts.
But it has been a comfort to write, and I was too nervous and excited to
go to sleep, for a long time. I really think I ought to go to bed now.
That doctor is really a very nice young man, and I just love Mrs.
Barnett. Any one would.
Please write as often as possible, for now we are prisoners for goodness
knows how long in this place, and your letters will be worth their weight
in precious stones. Tell me all that is happening. Have you heard from
Harry Lawrence lately?
Your loving
HELEN.