_In Which Doctor Luke's Flesh Creeps, Billy Topsail Acts Like a
Bob-Cat, and the Little Fiddler of Amen Island Tells a Secret_
Confronting the slush of Deep Water Cove, with the finger of the Little
Fiddler of Amen Island awaiting his ministration beyond, Doctor Luke had
misled the faithful Billy Topsail into the assumption of his
acquiescence. It was not in his mind to return to Candlestick Cove that
night. It was in his mind to gain the shore and proceed upon his
professional call. And there was reason in this. For when the group of
Arctic ice--still rhythmically swinging in and out with the great seas
from the open--drove down upon the broken base of Deep Water Cliff, it
compressed the ice between.
At the moment of greatest compression the slush was reasonably solid
ground. When the Arctic ice subsided with the wave, the slush expanded
in the wider space it was then permitted to occupy. A man could cross--a
light, agile man, daring the depth of the slush, might be able to
cross--when the slush was compressed. No man could run all the way
across. It must be in two advances. Midway he would be caught by the
subsidence of the wave. From this he must preserve himself.
And from this--from dropping through the field of slush and having it
close over his head--he might preserve himself by means of his gaff.
"Wel-ll," Doctor Luke had admitted, apparently resigned, "no doubt
you're right, Billy. I----"
Now the Arctic ice was poised.
"Ay, sir. An' you're more reasonable than ever I knowed you t'----"
A sea was rolling in.
"Wel-ll," the Doctor drawled, "as I grow older----"
Then came the moment of advantage. Doctor Luke ran out on the slush
before Billy Topsail could reach out a hand to restrain him. It was
indiscreet. Doctor Luke had been too eager to escape--he had started too
soon; the sea was not down--the slush was not squeezed tight. A foot
sank to the ankle. Doctor Luke jerked it out The other foot went down to
the calf of the leg. Doctor Luke jerked it--tugged it. It was fast. The
slush, in increasing compression, had caught it. He must wait for the
wave to subside.
His flesh crept with the horror of the thing. He was trapped--caught
fast! A moment later the sea was in retreat from the cliff and the slush
began rapidly to thin. Doctor Luke employed the stratagem that is
familiar to the coast for dealing with such ice as the slush in which he
was entrapped. He waited--alert. There would come a moment when the
consistency of the ice would be so thin that he would drop through.
Precisely before that moment--when his feet were first free--he dropped
flat on his gaff. Having in this way distributed his weight--avoided its
concentration on a small area--he was borne up. And he withdrew his feet
and waited for the sea to fall in again and compress the ice.
When the next wave fell in Billy Topsail started across the ice like a
bob-cat.
Doctor Luke lay inert through two waves. When the third fell he jumped
up and ran towards the base of Deep Water Cliff. Again the sea caught
him unaware. His flesh was creeping again. Horror of the stuff
underfoot--the treacherous insecurity of it--drove him. The shore was
close. He was too eager for the shore--he ran too far; and his foot went
down again--foot and leg to the thigh. As instinctively he tried
violently to extract the leg by stepping up on the other foot--that leg
went down to the knee.
A fall to the arm-pits impended--a drop clean through and overhead. The
drop would inevitably be the result of a flash of hesitation. Doctor
Luke cried out. And as he cried he plunged forward--a swift, conscious
effort to fall prone on his gaff. There was a blank. Nothing seemed to
happen. He was amazed to discover that the gaff upheld him. It occurred
to him, then, that his feet were trapped--that he could not withdraw his
legs from the sucking slush.
Nor could he. They were caught. And he perceived that they were sinking
deeper--that he was slowly slipping through the slush.
He was conscious of the night--the dark and snow and wind; and he
fancied that he heard a voice of warning.
"Cotch hold----"
It was a voice.
"Cotch hold o' the gaff!"
Doctor Luke seized the end of Billy Topsail's gaff and drew himself out
of the grip of the slush. When the sea came in again he jumped up and
joined Billy Topsail on the broken base of Deep Water Cliff. He was
breathing hard. He did not look back. Billy Topsail said that they had
better make haste--that somebody would "cotch a death o' cold" if they
did not make haste. And they made haste.
* * * * *
An hour or more later Doctor Luke, with Billy Topsail in his wake,
thrust into Tom Lute's agitated kitchen and interrupted the amputation
of the fiddle finger of the Little Fiddler of Amen Island with a "Well,
well, well! What in the name of----" and stood staring--all dusted with
snow and shivering and fairly gone purple with cold.
They had Terry Lute cornered, then--his back against the wall, his face
horrified, his mouth wide open in a bellow of rage; and Sandy Lands and
Black Walt Anderson were almost upon him--and Tom Lute was grimly ready
with the axe and Terry Lute's mother was standing beside the round birch
block with the pot of tar in her hands and her apron over her head.
Doctor Luke stood staring at all this--his mouth as wide open, because
of a temporary paralysis, due to his amazement, as Terry Lute's mouth
was fallen in anger and terror. And it was not long after that--the
Doctor being warm and dry, then, and the kitchen quiet and expectant,
and Tom Lute and Terry Lute's mother exhibiting relief and the keenest
sort of interest--that the Doctor took Terry Lute's fiddle finger in his
hand.
Then he began to prepare the finger for the healing thrust of a lance.
"I'm going to cure it, Terry," said he.
"That's good, sir. I'm wonderful glad t' save that finger."
"You cherish that finger, Terry?"
"I does that, sir! I've need of it, sir."
The Doctor was not attending. His attention was on the lance and its
object. "Mm-m," he ran on, absently, to make distracting conversation.
"You've need of it, eh?"
"'Tis one o' my fiddle fingers, sir."
"Mm-m? Ah! The Little Fiddler of Amen Island! Well, Terry, lad, you'll
be able to play your fiddle again in a fortnight."
Terry grinned.
"No, sir," said he. "I won't be playin' my fiddle by that time."
The Doctor looked up in astonishment.
"Yes, you will," he flashed, sharply.
"No, sir."
"But I tell you----"
"I isn't got no fiddle."
"What!"
"All I got now," said the Little Fiddler of Amen Island, "is a
jew's-harp. _But jus' you wait till I grows up!_"
* * * * *
Billy Topsail had broken into smothered laughter; and Doctor Luke,
laughing, too, had already determined that the Little Fiddler of Amen
Island should not have to wait until he grew up for his first violin
(which came to pass in due course)--this hearty mirth was in progress
when there was a loud knock on the door, a trample of feet in the entry,
a draught of cold air blowing through the open door, and Billy Topsail
had the surprise of his not uneventful career. He stared, helpless with
amazement, incredulity, delight; and for a moment he could do nothing
more worthy of his manners than keep on staring, as though he had
clapped eyes on a ghost.
Archie Armstrong had come in.
"Archie!" Doctor Luke exclaimed.
They shook hands. But Archie Armstrong's eyes were not on Doctor Luke.
Doctor Luke might be met anywhere at any time. It was not surprising to
find him on Amen Island. Archie was staring at Billy Topsail.
"Ye little lobster!" said he, at last, grinning.
"Whoop!" Billy yelled. "'Tis you!"
They flew at each other. It was like a wrestling bout. Each in the
bear-like embrace of the other, they staggered over the floor and
eventually fell down exhausted. And then they got up and shook hands in
what Archie called "the regular" way.