'Tis terrible bad
luck, sure 'nough, for never a tidier bwoy went feeshin'; but theer's worse
to tell 'e. Look at that gert, good man, Tregenza. Oh, my God, my blood do
creem when I think on't!"
The man stopped and his brother took up the story.
"'Twas arterwards, when us had weathered the worst an' was tryin' to fetch
home, Michael failed forward on's faace arter the bwoy was drownded; an' us
had to do all for the bwoat wi'out en. But he comed to bimebye an' didn't
take on much, awnly kept so dumb as a adder. Not a word did er say till
marnin' light; then a 'orrible thing fell 'pon en. You knaw that yaller dog
as sails wi' us most times? He turned 'pon en sudden an' sez: 'Praise God,
praise the Lard o' Hosts, my sons, here's Tom, here's my lad as us thot
weer drownded!' Then he kissed that beast, an' it licked his faace, an' he
cried--that iron sawl cried like a wummon! Then he thundered out as the
crew was to give God the praise, an' said the man as weern't on's knees in
a twinklin' should be thrawed out the bwoat to Jonah's whale. God's truth!
I never seed nothin' so awful as skipper's eyes 'pon airth! Then er calmed
down, an' the back of en grawed humpetty an' his head failed a bit forrard
an' he sat strokin' of the dog. Arter that, when us seed Newlyn, it 'peared
to bring en to his senses a bit, an' he knawed Tom was drownded. He rambled
in his speech a while; then went mute again, wi' a new look in his eyes as
though he'd grawed so auld as history in a single night.
Pages:
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395