Left on the Labrador | Page 6

than sugar, and that sugar was a luxury they
could not afford.
There were no vegetables, for on the Labrador coast the summers are
too short and too cold to grow them, and not one of the Twig family
had ever so much as tasted a potato or an onion or a tomato, or, indeed,
any of the wholesome vegetables that we, in our kindlier land, have so
plentifully, and accept as a matter of course. But Charley and the Twigs,
old and young, found the stewed bear's meat, with Mrs. Twig's light,
fluffy dumplings and the good bread and molasses, both satisfying and
appetizing; and when Charley declined a third helping, urged upon him
by Skipper Zeb, he declared that he was as full as though he had eaten a
Christmas dinner.

When all were finished, Skipper Zeb bowed his head and gave thanks
for the bountiful meal; and then, with Toby's assistance, drew the
benches and chests back to the wall.
"Set down, now, and when I lights my pipe we'll talk over this fix
you're gettin' in," said Skipper Zeb. Drawing a pipe and a plug of black
tobacco and a jack-knife from his pocket, he shaved some of the plug
into the palm of his left hand, rolled it between his palms, and filled the
pipe. Then, with some deliberation, he selected a long, slender sliver
from the wood box, ignited it at the stove, lighted his pipe and carefully
extinguished the burning sliver.
"This is a fix, now! Well, now, 'tis a fix!" Skipper Zeb sat down upon a
bench by Charley's side, and for a minute or two puffed his pipe in
silence, sending up a cloud of smoke. Then, turning to Charley, he
boomed: "But 'tis not such a bad fix we can't get out of un! No, sir!
We'll see about this fix! We'll see!"
"Thank you," said Charley gratefully, and with hope that there might be
a way out of his trouble after all.
"Now, to start in the beginning, and that's where most things have to
start," said Skipper Zeb, "we won't worry about un. Worry is bad for
the insides of a man's head, and what's bad for the insides of a man's
head is bad for all of his insides, and if he worries, and keeps un up, he
gets sick. To-day is to-day and to-morrow is to-morrow. 'Tis but sense
for a man to provide for to-morrow, and do his best to do un, but if he
can't there's no use his worryin' about un. That's how I figgers. You're
feelin' well and hearty to-day?"
"Yes," admitted Charley.
"You just had a good snack of vittles?"
"Yes."
"You're warm and snug?"

"Yes."
"There you be! The worst of un's took care of to start with! Feelin' well,
a belly full of good vittles, warm and snug! Now keep feelin' contented,
and right as if this was your own home. Nothin' to worry over. No, sir,
not a thing! Now we've headed off the worst of un.
"You're in a fix, but 'twon't trouble us any. Not us! Life is full of fixes,
first and last. 'Twouldn't be much fun livin' if we didn't get in fixes now
and again! 'Tis a fine bit of sport figgerin' the way out of fixes. Fixes
gives us a change and somethin' to think about. There's a way out of
most fixes I finds, even the worst of un."
"Do you think the ship will come back for me?" asked Charley
anxiously.
"Well, now," Skipper Zeb wrinkled his forehead as though he were
pondering the question deeply, "if she comes back she'll come in
through the tickle and come to in the offing and blow her whistle, and
we'll hear un, and be ready for she. If she don't come back, she'll not
blow her whistle, and we'll not hear un. We'll be stayin' here as snug as
a bear in his den and listen for that whistle."
"But do you think she'll come back?" insisted Charley, with a suspicion
that Skipper Zeb's answer had been evasive.
"That's a question! That's a fair and square question, now," admitted
Skipper Zeb. "You asks un fair and I'll answer un fair. The folk on the
mail boat misses you. They looks up and down and don't find you.
You're not on the boat, and how can they find you? Captain Barcus of
the mail boat says, 'Well, he's gone, that's sure. If he leaves the mail
boat at Pinch-In Tickle, he's with Skipper Zeb Twig by now, and safe
enough and well took care of. If he falls overboard, that's the last of he.'
And sayin' this, and knowin' Captain Barcus the way I knows he, he
keeps right on to St. John's, and don't