Once upon a time there was a small farmer living in Wendron parish,
not far from the church-town. 'Thaniel Teague was his name.
This Teague happened to walk into Helston on a Furry-day, when the
Mayor and townspeople dance through the streets to the Furry-tune.
In the evening there was a grand ball given at the Angel Hotel, and
the landlord very kindly allowed Teague--who had stopped too late as
it was--to look in through the door and watch the gentry dance the
Lancers.
Teague thought he had never seen anything so heavenly. What with one
hindrance and another 'twas past midnight before he reached home, and
then nothing would do for him but he must have his wife and six
children out upon the floor in their night-clothes, practising the
Grand Chain while he sang--
Out of my stony griefs
Bethel I'll raise!
The seventh child, the babby, they set down in the middle of the
floor, like a nine-pin. And the worst of it was, the poor mite
twisted his eyes so, trying to follow his mammy round and round, that
he grew up with a cast from that hour.
'Tis of this child--Joby he was called--that I am going to tell you.
Barring the cast, he grew up a very straight lad, and in due time
began to think upon marrying. His father's house faced south, and as
it came easier to him to look north-west than any other direction, he
chose a wife from Gwinear parish. His elder brothers had gone off to
sea for their living, and his sister had married a mine-captain: so
when the old people died, Joby took over the farm and worked it, and
did very well.
Joby's wife was very fond of him, though of course she didn't like
that cast in his looks: and in many ways 'twas inconvenient too.
If the poor man ever put hand on plough to draw a straight furrow,
round to the north 'twould work as sure as a compass-needle.
She consulted the doctors about it, and they did no good. Then she
thought about consulting a conjurer; but being a timorous woman as
well as not over-wise, she put it off for a while.
Now, there was a little fellow living over to Penryn in those
times, Tommy Warne by name, that gave out he knew how to conjure.
Folks believed in him more than he did himself: for, to tell truth,
he was a lazy shammick, who liked most ways of getting a living
better than hard work. Still, he was generally made pretty welcome
at the farm-houses round, for he could turn a hand to anything and
always kept the maids laughing in the kitchen. One morning he
dropped in on Farmer Joby and asked for a job to earn his dinner; and
Joby gave him some straw to spin for thatching. By dinner-time Tom
had spun two bundles of such very large size that the farmer rubbed
his chin when he looked at them.
"Why," says he, "I always thought you a liar--I did indeed. But now
I believe you can conjure, sure enough."
As for Mrs. Joby, she was so much pleased that, though she felt
certain the devil must have had a hand in it, she gave Tom an extra
helping of pudding for dinner.
Some time after this, Farmer Joby missed a pair of pack-saddles.
Search and ask as he might, he couldn't find out who had stolen them,
or what had become of them.
"Tommy Warne's a clever fellow," he said at last. "I must see if he
can tell me anything." So he walked over to Penryn on purpose.
Tommy was in his doorway smoking when Farmer Joby came down the
street. "So you'm after they pack-saddles," said he.
"Why, how ever did you know?"
"That's my business. Will it do if you find 'em after harvest?"
"To be sure 'twill. I only want to know where they be."
"Very well, then; after harvest they'll be found."
Home the farmer went. Sure enough, after harvest, he went to unwind
Tommy's two big bundles of straw-rope for thatching the mow, and in
the middle of each was one of his missing pack-saddles.
"Well, now," said Joby's wife, "that fellow must have a real gift of
conjurin'! I wonder, my dear, you don't go and consult him about that
there cross-eye of yours."
"I will, then," said Joby; and he walked over to Penryn again the
very next market-day.
"'Cure your eyes,' is it?" said Tommy Warne. "Why, to be sure I can.
Why didn't you ax me afore? I thought you _liked_ squintin'."
"I don't, then; I hate it."
"Very well; you shall see straight this very night if you do what I
tell you. Go home and tell your wife to make your bed on the roof of
the four-poster; and she must make it widdershins, turnin' bed-tie
and all against the sun, and puttin' the pillow where the feet come
as a rule. That's all."
"Fancy my never thinkin' of anything so simple as that!" said Joby.
He went home and told his wife. She made his bed on the roof of the
four-poster, and widdershins, as he ordered; and they slept that
night, the wife as usual, and Joby up close to the rafters.
But scarcely had Joby closed an eye before there came a rousing knock
at the door, and in walked Joby's eldest brother, the sea-captain,
that he hadn't seen for years.
"Get up, Joby, and come along with me if you want that eye of yours
mended."
"Thank you, Sam, it's curin' very easy and nice, and I hope you won't
disturb me."
"If 'tis Tommy Warne's cure you're trying, why then I'm part of it;
so you'd best get up quickly."
"Aw, that's another matter, though you might have said so at first.
I'd no notion you and Tommy was hand-'n-glove."
Joby rose up and followed his brother out of doors. He had nothing
on but his night-shirt, but his brother seemed in a hurry, and he
didn't like to object.
They set their faces to the road and they walked and walked, neither
saying a word, till they came to Penryn. There was a fair going on
in the town; swing-boats and shooting-galleries and lillybanger
standings, and naphtha lamps flaming, and in the middle of all, a
great whirly-go-round, with striped horses and boats, and a
steam-organ playing "Yankee Doodle." As soon as they started Joby
saw that the whole thing was going around widdershins; and his
brother stood up under the naphtha-lamp and pulled out a sextant and
began to take observations.
"What's the latitude?" asked Joby. He felt that he ought to say
something to his brother, after being parted all these years.
"Decimal nothing to speak of," answered Sam.
"Then we ought to be nearing the Line," said Joby. He hadn't noticed
the change, but now he saw that the boat they sat in was floating on
the sea, and that Sam had stuck his walking-stick out over the stern
and was steering.
"What's the longitude?" asked Joby.
"That doesn't concern us."
"'Tis west o' Grinnidge, I suppose?" Joby knew very little about
navigation, and wanted to make the most of it.
"West o' Penryn," said Sam, very sharp and short. "'Twasn' Grinnidge
Fair we started from."
But presently he sings out "Here we are!" and Joby saw a white line,
like a popping-crease, painted across the blue sea ahead of them.
First he thought 'twas paint, and then he thought 'twas catgut, for
when the keel of their boat scraped over it, it sang like a bird.
"That was the Equator," said Sam. "Now let's see if your eyes be any
better."
But when Joby tried them, what was his disappointment to find the
cast as bad as ever?--only now they were slewing right the other way,
towards the South Pole.
"I never thought well of this cure from the first," declared Sam.
"For my part, I'm sick and tired of the whole business!" And with
that he bounced up from the thwart and hailed a passing shark and
walked down its throat in a huff, leaving Joby all alone on the wide
sea.
"There's nice brotherly behaviour for you!" said Joby to himself.
"Lucky he left his walking-stick behind. The best thing I can do is
to steer along close to the Equator, and then I know where I am."
So he steered along close to the Line, and by and by he saw something
shining in the distance. When he came nearer, 'twas a great gilt
fowl stuck there with its beak to the Line and its wings sprawled
out. And when he came close, 'twas no other than the cock belonging
to the tower of his own parish church of Wendron!
"Well!" said Joby, "one has to travel to find out how small the world
is. And what might you be doin' here, naybour?"
"Is that you, Joby Teague? Then I'll thank you to do me a good turn.
I came here in a witch-ship last night, and the crew put this spell
upon me because I wouldn't pay my footing to cross the Line.
A nice lot, to try and steal the gilt off a church weather-cock!
'Tis ridiculous," said he, "but I can't get loose for the life o'
me!"
"Why, that's as easy as ABC," said Joby. "You'll find it in any book
of parlour amusements. You take a fowl, put its beak to the floor,
and draw a chalk line away from it, right and left--"
Joby wetted his thumb, smudged out a bit of the Equator on each side
of the cock's nose, and the bird stood up and shook himself.
"And now is there anything I can do for you, Joby Teague?"
"To be sure there is. I'm getting completely tired of this boat: and
if you can give me a lift, I'll take it as a favour."
"No favour at all. Where shall we go visit?--the Antipodes?"
"No, thank you," said Toby. "I've heard tell they get up an' do
their business when we honest folks be in our beds: and that kind o'
person I never could trust. Squint or no squint, Wendron's Wendron,
and that's where I'm comfortable."
"Well, it's no use loitering here, or we may get into trouble for
what we've done to the Equator. Climb on my back," said the bird,
"and home we go!"
It seemed no more than a flap of the wings, and Joby found himself on
his friend's back on one of the pinnacles of Wendron Church and
looking down on his own farm.
"Thankin' you kindly, soce, and now I think I'll be goin'," said he.
"Not till I've cured your eyesight, Joby," said the polite bird.
Joby by this time was wishing his eyesight to botheration; but before
he could say a word, a breeze came about the pinnacles, and he was
spinning around on the cock's back--spinning around widdershins--
clutching the bird's neck and holding his breath.
"And now," the cock said, as they came to a standstill again,
"I think you can see a hole in a ladder as well as any man."
Just then the bells in the tower below them began to ring merrily.