_In Which Notorious Tom Tulk o' Twillingate and the
Skipper of the "Black Eagle" Put Their Heads Together Over
a Glass of Rum in the Cabin of a French Shore Trader_
There was never a more notorious rascal in Newfoundland than old Tom
Tulk of Twillingate. There was never a cleverer rascal--never a man
who could devise new villainies as fast and execute them as neatly.
The law had never laid hands on him. At any rate not for a crime of
importance. He had been clapped in jail once, but merely for debt; and
he had carried this off with flying colours by pushing past the
startled usher in church and squatting his great flabby bulk in the
governor's pew of the next Sunday morning. He was a thief, a chronic
bankrupt, a counterfeiter, an illicit liquor seller. It was all
perfectly well known; but not once had a constable brought an offense
home to him. He had once been arrested for theft, it is true, and
taken to St. John's by the constables; but on the way he had stolen a
watch from one and put it in the pocket of the other, thereby
involving both in far more trouble than they could subsequently
involve him.
Add to these evil propensities a deformed body and a crimson
countenance and you have the shadow of an idea of old Tom Tulk.
* * * * *
George Rumm and Tom Tulk boarded the _Black Eagle_ in the rain and
sought the shelter of her little cabin. The cook had made a fire for
the skipper; the cabin was warm and quiet. Tom Tulk closed the door
with caution and glanced up to see that the skylights were tight.
Skipper George produced the bottle and glasses.
"Now, Skipper George," said Tom Tulk, as he tipped the bottle, "'tis a
mint o' money an' fair easy t' make."
"I'm not likin' the job," the skipper complained. "I'm not likin' the
job at all."
"'Tis an easy one," Tom Tulk maintained, "an' 'tis well paid when 'tis
done."
Skipper George scowled in objection.
"Ye've a soft heart for man's work," said Tom, with a bit of a
sneer.
Skipper George laughed. "Is you thinkin' t' drive me by makin' fun o'
me?" he asked.
"I'm thinkin' nothin'," Tom Tulk replied, "but t' show you how it can
be done. Will you listen t' me?"
"Not me!" George Rumm declared.
Tom Tulk observed, however, that the skipper's ears were wide open.
"Not me!" Skipper George repeated, with a loud thump on the table.
"No, sir! I'll have nothin' t' do with it!"
Tom Tulk fancied that the skipper's ears were a little bit wider than
before; he was not at all deceived by this show of righteousness on
the part of a weak man.
"Well, well!" he sighed. "Say no more about it."
"I'm not denyin'," said Skipper George, "that it _could_ be done. I'm
not denyin' that it would be easy work. But I tells you, Tom Tulk,
that I'll have nothin' t' do with it. I'm an honest man, Tom Tulk, an'
I'd thank you t' remember it."
"Well, well!" Tom Tulk sighed again. "There's many a man in this
harbour would jump at the chance; but there's never another so honest
that I could trust him."
"Many a man, if you like," Skipper George growled; "but not me."
"No, no," Tom Tulk agreed, with a covert little sneer and grin; "not
you."
"'Tis a prison offense, man!"
"If you're cotched," Tom Tulk laughed. "An' tell me, George Rumm, is
_I_ ever been cotched?"
"I'm not sayin' you is."
"No; nor never will be."
It had all been talked over before, of course; and it would be talked
over again before a fortnight was past and the _Black Eagle_ had set
sail for the French Shore with a valuable cargo. Tom Tulk had begun
gingerly; he had proceeded with exquisite caution; he had ventured a
bit more; at last he had come boldly out with the plan. Manned with
care--manned as she could be and as Tom Tulk would take care to have
her--the _Black Eagle_ was the ship for the purpose; and Skipper
George, with a reputation for bad seamanship, was the man for the
purpose. And the thing _would_ be easy. Tom Tulk knew it. Skipper
George knew it. It could be successfully done. There was no doubt
about it; and Skipper George hated to think that there was no doubt
about it. The ease and safety with which he might have the money
tumble into his pocket troubled him. It was not so much a temptation
as an aggravation. He found himself thinking about it too often; he
wanted to put it out of his mind, but could not.
"Now, Tom Tulk," said he, at last, flushing angrily, "let's have no
more o' this. I'm fair tired of it. I'll have nothin' t' do with it;
an' I tells you so, once an' for all."
"Pass the bottle," said Tom Tulk.
The bottle went from hand to hand.
"We'll say no more about it," said Tom Tulk; "but I tells you, Skipper
George, that that little clerk o' yours, Tommy Bull, is just the
ticket. As for a crew, I got un handy."
"Belay, belay!"
"Ay, ay, Skipper George," Tom Tulk agreed; "but as for fetchin' a
cargo o' fish into St. John's harbour without tellin' where it came
from, if there's any man can beat me at that, why, I'd----"
Skipper George got up and pulled open the hatch.
"I'll see you again," said Tom Tulk.
Skipper George of the _Black Eagle_ helped himself to another dram
when Tom Tulk had withdrawn his great body and sly face. It was true,
all that Tom Tulk had said. It was true about the clerk; he was ripe
to go bad. It was true about the crew; with hands scarce, and
able-bodied young fellows bound to the Sidney mines for better wages,
Skipper George could ship whom he liked and Tom Tulk chose. It was
true about fetching fish into St. John's without accounting whence it
came. Tom Tulk could do it; nobody would ask eccentric old Tom Tulk
where he got his fish--everybody would laugh. It was true about the
skipper himself; it was quite true that his reputation was none of the
best as a sailing-master. But he had never lost a ship yet. They might
say he had come near it, if they liked; but he had never lost a ship
yet. No, sir; he had never lost a ship yet. Nor would he. He'd fetch
the _Black Eagle_ home, right enough, and _show_ Sir Archibald
Armstrong!
But the thing would be easy. It was disgustingly easy in prospect.
Skipper George wished that old Tom Tulk had never come near to bother
him.
"Hang Tom Tulk!" thought he.
But how easy, after all, the thing would be!
* * * * *
The first hand put his head in the hatchway to tell Skipper George
that he was to report to Sir Archibald Armstrong in the office at
once. Skipper George was not quite easy about the three drams he had
taken; but there was nothing for it but to appear in the office
without delay. As a matter of fact Sir Archibald Armstrong detected
nothing out of the way. He had something to say to Skipper George
about the way to sail a schooner--about timid sailing, and reckless
sailing, and feeling about in fogs, and putting out to sea, and
running for harbour. When he had finished--and he spoke long and
earnestly, with his blue eyes flashing, his head in the air, his teeth
snapping once in a while--when Sir Archibald had finished, Skipper
George was standing with his cap in his hand, his face flushed,
answering, "Yes, sir," and, "No, sir," in a way of the meekest. When
he left the office he was unpleasantly aware that he was face to face
with his last chance. In this new trouble he forgot all about Tom
Tulk.
"Skipper George," he thought, taking counsel with himself, as he
poured another dram, "you got t' do better."
He mused a long time.
"I _will_ do better," he determined. "I'll show un that I can sail a
schooner."
Before he stowed away for the night, a little resentment crept into
his thoughts of Sir Archibald. He had never felt this way before.
"I got t' stop this," he thought.
Tom Tulk was then dreaming over a glass of rum; and his dreams were
pleasant dreams--concerning Skipper George of the _Black Eagle_.