“_SAYS GRANNIE, ‘JOHNNIE,’ SHE SAYS, ‘YOU’RE GOIN’ HOME’_”
The very innocence of the fat boy, Johnnie Smart, had endeared him to
all. His great affection for Teenie too, for whom I believe he would
have at any time laid down his life, was quite a feature in his
character.
Then his well-pleased fat face and curious smile or laugh made everybody
feel on good terms with him. Even when he made a mistake of any kind in
his capacity of cook’s mate or Pandoo’s assistant, it only made him
laugh, and no one could be angry with him.
One morning he approached Teenie, who was sitting near the binnacle
engrossed in “Tom Cringle’s Log.” He was looking more serious than
usual.
He bobbed and bowed and blushed, and spoke at last.
“Miss Teenie,” he said, “I had a kind o’ a dream last night, which
’twere more o’ a wision like nor a dream----”
“Well, Johnnie?”
“Well, Miss Teenie, I seed my old grannie like ’s plain ’s I see you
afore me just now, and she says, ‘Johnnie,’ says she, ‘you’re goin’
home,’ and wi’ that the old lady just wanished, and I woked.”
He seemed so woe-begone, that Teenie could not help saying--
“Ah! but you know, Johnnie, dreams go by contraries.”
“Goes by contrairies, does ’ey now, missie? Well, the old lady never was
that way. No, Miss Teenie, summat’s gone to ’appen. We’ll see.”
And off walked Johnnie, sighing.
If dreams ever come true in any way, it depends, I believe, on mere
coincidence. But this is strange enough sometimes to make people put
faith in them.
Johnnie was soon after busily engaged with the rest of the squad
clearing off the weeds and shells from the ship’s sides. They were slung
overboard on the bights of ropes, in which they sat with their legs
dangling down.
They were all working away right merrily, and Johnnie was perhaps the
merriest of the lot.
He had almost forgotten his dream. He only once alluded to it, and that
was to say--
“Well, maties, this all looks as if we would soon get clear and sail
away for furrin counterees, which my grannie did say in my dream. Says
she, ‘Johnnie,’ she says, ‘you’re goin’ home, you is.’”
“La!” said one sailor, “I’ve most forgotten wot home’s like.”
“But,” said another, “if ever we does get back to Britain’s shore,
won’t we let ourselves spread, Bill, eh?”
“That will we, Jim, and not a little bit either. Ye can bet your ’at on
that. And I say, Jim, wot cher think? I----”
He never finished his sentence, for a piercing shriek from Johnnie, who
was next to him, drew attention to the poor lad. His rope had slackened,
and he swung with his feet almost touching the water.
Bill Carry seized him just in time, and shouted for help from above.
Both he and the poor fat boy were almost immediately drawn up.
The blood was flowing like a fountain from Johnnie’s leg, which a shark
had snapped off close above the knee.
Sister Leona came up, and with Antonio’s assistance quickly applied a
tourniquet, and the bleeding was partially stopped.
Johnnie had fainted, and during the time he lay thus insensible, Sister
Leona dressed the stump as neatly as a surgeon could have done.
It was not until after the unfortunate lad had been placed in a cot
beneath the awning that he recovered semi-consciousness.
But wild, hot fever set in that night, and all throughout the long dark
hours he raved and talked of home, of his sister, his mother, and
grannie.
He seemed to doze off about daybreak, and slept heavily off and on till
nearly sunset.
Poor Teenie hardly ever moved away from his side, moistening his lips
with water, and keeping wet the cloth that had been laid upon his brow.
Sister Leona had entertained but little hopes of him from the beginning,
but had not calculated upon the end being so close at hand.
It was nearing the brief gloaming that follows sunset in these latitudes
when he opened his eyes.
“Are you better, dear Johnnie?”
“Which I’ll be better prisintly, dear Teenie,” was the reply.
“Which I’se a-goin’ home fast, missie.”
Teenie began to cry.
“Don’t ee, don’t ee,” said the poor boy faintly.
“It allus did make me feel queer like to see you cry, Teenie.”
“Johnnie, Johnnie, oh say you will not die.”
“Which death--comes--to us all,” he gasped.
He lay perfectly still for a minute, and Teenie put a little cordial to
his lips.
“Say, Teenie?”
“Yes, Johnnie.”
“Ye won’t take on muchly, will ye?”
Teenie tried hard not to cry.
“There be a long letter in my ditty-box for them at ’ome. ’Taint
finished. Teenie, you’ll finish her, and if ever ye gets away home to
England’s shore, give this silver ring to Sissie.”
“Shall I run below, Johnnie, and bring Sister Leona? She may be----”
“No, no, no, Teenie. I wants nobbut you. Give me your hand like.
“I’m happy now,” he added.
Teenie spoke not.
She was awed into silence, for in the waning light she could see a
change spread over the poor boy’s face.
He just held back his head, his face to the sky, and smiled in the old
droll way, then----
When Leona came up a few minutes later she found Teenie sitting there,
her face buried in the coverlet, and sobbing as if her heart would
break.
She still held Johnnie’s hand.
But Johnnie had gone home.
* * * * *
Of all the burials that had taken place at sea, that of Johnnie Smart
was the saddest by far.
As Sister Leona read the service, I am sure there was not a dry eye in
the group abaft the binnacle, while both Teenie and Pandoo sobbed aloud.
But it was over at last.
The men were dismissed to their work, and Johnnie Smart, innocent,
unselfish lad, will be seen no more, until that day
“When the sea gives up its dead.”
* * * * *
Captain Antonio Garcia kept all hands steadily at work now, and even for
Teenie he found something to do.
In a few weeks’ time he was pleased to note that although Johnnie never
could be forgotten, the men, and even Teenie, talked about him as not
dead, but gone before, and in a far happier place now than any on board
the seemingly doomed ship _Zingara_.