第8章 CHAPTER II SUPPLY AND DEMAND(2)

Issy hesitated, seemed about to speak, thought better of it, took up package and cap, and "got."

"Let's see," said the Captain, sitting down in one of the station chairs and lighting a fresh cigar; "where was Williams and I in that yarn of mine? Oh, yes, I could see land and cal'lated we was goin' to bump. Well, we did. Steerin' anyways but dead ahead was out of the question, and all I could do was set my teeth and trust in my bein' a member of the church. The Shootin' Star hit that beach like she was the real article. Overboard went oar and canvas and grub pails, and everything else that wa'n't nailed down, includin' Fatty and me. I grabbed him by the collar and wallowed ashore.

"'Awk! hawk!' he gasps, chokin', 'I'm drownded.'

"I let him BE drownded, for the minute. I had the launch to think of, and somehow or 'nother I got hold of her rodin' and hauled the anchor up above tide mark. Then I attended to my passenger.

"'Where are we?' he asks.

"I looked around. Close by was nothin' but beach-grass and seaweed and sand. A little ways off was a clump of scrub pines and bayberry bushes that looked sort of familiar. And back of them was a little board shanty that looked more familiar still. I rubbed the salt out of my eyes.

"'WELL!' says I. 'I swan to man!'

"'What is it?' he says. 'Do you know where we are? Whose house is that?'

I looked hard at the shanty.

"'Humph!' I grunted. 'I do declare! Talk about a feller's comin' back to his own. Whose shanty is that? Well, it's mine, if you want to know. The power that looks out for the lame and the lazy has hove us ashore on Woodchuck Island, and that's a piece of real estate I own.'

"It sounds crazy enough, that's a fact; but it was true. Woodchuck Island is a little mite of a sand heap off in the bay, two mile from shore and ten from the nighest town. I'd bought it and put up a shanty for a gunnin' shack; took city gunners down there, once in a while, the fall before. That summer I'd leased it to a friend of mine, name of Darius Baker, who used it while he was lobsterin'.

The gale had driven us straight in from sea, 'way past Sandy P'int and on to the island. 'Twas like hittin' a nail head in a board fence, but we'd done it. Shows what Providence can do when it sets out.

"I explained some of this to Williams as we waded through the sand to the shanty.

"'But is this Baker chap here now?' he asks.

"'I'm afraid not,' says I. 'The lobster season's about over, and he was goin' South on a yacht this week. Still, he wa'n't to go till Saturday and perhaps--'

"But the shanty was empty when we got there. I fumbled around in the tin matchbox and lit the kerosene lamp in the bracket on the wall. Then I turned to Williams.

"'Well,' says I, 'we're lucky for once in--'

"Then I stopped. When he went overboard the water had washed off his hat. Likewise it had washed off his long black hair--which was a wig--and his head was all round and shiny and bald, like a gull's egg out in a rain storm."

"I knew he wore a wig," interrupted Phinney.

"Of course you do. Everybody does now. But he wa'n't such a prophet in Israel then as he's come to be since, and folks wa'n't acquainted with his personal beauties.

"'What are you starin' at?' he asks.

"I fetched a long breath. 'Nothin',' says I. 'Nothin'.'

"But for the rest of that next ha'f hour I went around in a kind of daze, as if MY wig had gone and part of my head with it. When a feller has been doin' a puzzle it kind of satisfies him to find out the answer. And I'd done my puzzle.

"I knew where I'd met Mr. Williams afore."

"You did?" cried Simeon.

"Um-hm. Wait a while. Well, Fatty went to bed, in one of the hay bunks, pretty soon after that. He stripped to his underclothes and turned in under the patchwork comforters. He was too beat out to want any supper, even if there'd been any in sight. I built a fire in the rusty cook stove and dried his duds and mine. Then I set down in the busted chair and begun to think. After a spell I got up and took account of stock, as you might say, of the eatables in the shanty. Darius had carted off his own grub and what there was on hand was mine, left over from the gunnin' season--a hunk of salt pork in the pickle tub, some corn meal in a tin pail, some musty white flour in another pail, a little coffee, a little sugar and salt, and a can of condensed milk. I took these things out of the locker they was in, looked 'em over, put 'em back again and sprung the padlock. Then I put the key into my pocket and went back to my chair to do some more thinkin'.

"Next mornin' I was up early and when the banker turned out I was fryin' a couple of slices of the pork and had some coffee b'ilin'.

Likewise there was a pan of johnnycake in the oven. The wind had gone down consider'ble, but 'twas foggy and thick again, which was a pleasin' state of things for yours truly.

"Williams smelt the cookin' almost afore he got his eyes open.

"'Hurry up with that breakfast,' he says to me. 'I'm hungry as a wolf.'

"I didn't say nothin' then; just went ahead with my cookin'. He got into his clothes and went outdoor. Pretty soon he comes back, cussin' the weather.

"'See here, Mr. Williams,' says I, 'how about them orders to your housekeeper? Are they straight? Won't she have you hunted up for a week?'

"He colored pretty red, but from what he said I made out that she wouldn't. I gathered that him and the old lady wa'n't real chummy.

She give him his grub and her services, and he give her the Old Harry and her wages. She wouldn't hunt for him, not until she was ordered to. She'd be only too glad to have him out of the way.

"'Humph!' says I. 'Then I cal'late we'll enjoy the scenery on this garden spot of creation until the week's up.'

"'What do you mean?' says he.

"'Well,' I says, 'the launch is out of commission, unless it should rain gasoline, and at this time of year there ain't likely to be a boat within hailin' distance of this island; 'specially if the weather holds bad.'