Christmas Eve at Topmast Tickle by Norman Duncan. It was Labrador weather, sure
enough, and winter weather too, a cold, windy time. There was
nothing for it, however, the doctor and I must brave our way along
myself Davy Roth, a mite of a youngster in those days, and that
good man and wise physician whom we called Doctor Luke on our grim coast.
We loved the man from Cape Chidley to the Straits, a thousand miles of
bitter coast, now his professional round. We loved him never such another,
for courage and tenderness as he he had come, a castaway from the wreck
of the Saint Lawrence to our harbor, a moody, wretched fellow, with
the imprint of evil upon him. What evil he had done I do not
to this day know. So vivid was this suggestion. I recall, however,
that I was moved one night to pray for him with all my might,
And my prayer was addressed to my mother, then recently dead, in
whose power in her new estate I had implicit faith. It seemed that she
must understand that she might procure his restoration. Dear Mamma, I prayed,
there's something wrong along with the doctor man who came the night you died.
He've managed somehow to get wonderful sick. I'm not knowing what ails him or
where he cotched it, but I sees it plain in his face, and
tis a woeful sickness. Do you make haste to the throne of God,
please, ma'am and tell him I've been asking you to have him cured.
You'd want him well too, and you was here, and the Lord ll
surely listen to you and take your word for it. Oh, do you
pray the Lord with all you might, and may and dim Mamma to heal
that man. It came about presently that the doctor made up his mind to
stay on our coast, and I did not doubt that my mother had in
some way accomplished his determination that night, the night when the doctor told me
that he was to stay, I rode him to North Tickle and let the
punt lie in the swell of the open sea, where it was very solemn
and quiet. The sky was heavy with drifting masses of cloud, a flare
with red and gold, and all the sunset colors from the black line of
coast lying in the west far into the east, where sea and sky were
turning gray. Indeed, it was very still, very solemn, lying in
the long crimson swell of the great Deep, while the dusk came creeping over
the sea. I do not wonder, the doctor muttered, with a shudder,
that the people who dwell here fear God. There was something familiar to
me in that feeling, but for the moment I could not make it out,
Sir, I said. His eyes ranged timidly over the somber waist,
the vasty, splendid heavens, the coast, dark and unfeeling, the infinite
sullen sea, which ominously darkened as he looked, and he covered his face
with his hands. No, he whispered, looking up, I do not
wonder that you believe in God and fear him. Then I knew that round
about he felt the presence of an offended God, and fear him, he
repeated. I leveled my finger at him. You've been wicked, I said,
knowing that my accusation was true. Yes, he answered, I have
been wicked. I had been wicked too in my time and understood. Is
it going to be good? Now? I'm going to stay here, he
replied, and I'm going to heal the people and try to be good.
I'll die to see it, I cried, I Cod. My friend,
old skipper Tommy Lovejoy commented, when the news was imparted to him. You'll
never tell me the doctor man is to stay in our harbor well well and
all because the Saint Lawrence was wrecked, and because your mother died the night
he come ashore, an because he might a safer had he been here in
time enough, it, Cod says the Lord. Now that I got that
doctor man there, I'll just put it in his mind to stay an do
a day's work or two for me. I'm sure he meant it. I'm
sure he meant to do just that. I'm sure twas all done a purpose.
We thinks he's hard and a bit free and careless, he cod.
There's times when we thinks he fair bungles his job. He kills us,
and he cripples us, and he starves us, and he hurts our hearts
an then Davy, we says he's a dunderhead at runnin the world, which
says we we could run a sight better if we was able to make one.
But the lard Davy does his day's work in a seaman like way usin
no more crooked backs and empty stomachs, and children's tears and broken hearts than
he can help. Tis little we knows about what he's up to, all
which was characteristic of Skipper Tommy, and the doctor was presently cured. There
is virtue for the city bread I fancy in the clean salt air and simple
living of our coast, and surely for everyone everywhere. A tonic in the
performance of good deeds. Hard practice in fair and foul weather worked a vast
change in the doctor. Toil and fresh air are eminent physicians, the wonder
of salty wind, and the hand to hand conflict with the northern sea.
They gave him health, a clear eyed, brown, deep breathed sort of
health, and restored a strength, broad shouldered and lithe and playful that was
his natural heritage. With this new power came joyous courage, indomitability of purpose,
a restless activity of body and mind. He was now in manly qualities.
The man the good God designed strong and bonny and tender hearted, betraying
no weakness in the duties of the day. And he went about with hearty
words on the tip of his tongue and a laugh in his gray eyes.
The children ran out of the cottages to greet him as he passed by,
and a multitude of surly, ill conditioned dogs which yielded the road to no
one else accepted him as a distinguished intimate. But to the story. It
was Labrador weather, as I have said, white weather, and the day
before Christmas, the Doctor and I must get along. There was nothing for
it. We must spend Christmas at home. The wind must not deny us,
nor the cold, nor the driving snow. Returning a foot from the
bedside of long John wise ad run by Guess, and from many a bedside
and wretched hearth by the way, the Doctor and I strapped our packs aback
and heartily set out from the Hudson's Bay Company's post at bread and Water Bay
in the dawn of the day before Christmas, Being then three weeks gone from
our harbor, and thinking to reach next day, we were to chance hospitality
for the night. And this must be they told us. At the cottage
of a man of the name of Jonas Jut, which is at topmast Tickle,
there was a lusty old wind scampering down the coast, with many a
sportive whirl and whoop, flinging the snow about in vast delight, a big,
rollicking winter's wind blowing straight out of the north at the pitch of half
a gale. With this abeam we made brave progress. But yet twas late
at night when we floundered down the gully called long and deep, where the
drifts were overhead. And each must rescue the other from sudden misfortune. A
warm glimmer of light in Jonas Jut's kitchen window to guide and hearken us.
The doctor beat on the door with his fist open. He cried, open.
There was no response. Open, the doctor shouted, still furiously knocking.
Not a whisper, not a creek was elicited from within. Are you
dead? Are ye deef? The doctor cried, good Lord, willya never
opened this door? So gruff was the voice, so big and commanding,
and so sudden was the outcry, And so late was the night, and
wild the wind, and far away the little cottage, that the three little
Juts who then sat expectant at the kitchen fire must all at once have huddled
close. I fancy that Sammy blinked no longer at the crack in the stove,
But slipped from his chair and limped to his sister, whose hand he
clutched. I am sure of it. I am sure that little Sammy Jutt
slipped from his chair in affright, that he limped across the floor to Martha
Jut, and that he caught hold of her hand, and that he stared
at the door with his eyes popping out while the furious knocking went on and
the big voice commanding entrance. That was little Sammy Jutt's way to limp to
his sister and catch her hand. We'll freeze, I tell you, shouted
the doctor opened up. Ah, thank you in a mollified way, as
Skipper Jonas Jutt opened the door, and then, most engagingly, may we
come in an welcome'srz, said the hearty Jonas. Whoever you be, tis
gettin' to be a wild knight. Thank you, Yes, yes, a
wild knight. Glad to catch sight of your light from the top of the
hill. We'll leave the rackets here straight ahead. Thank you. I see
the glow of a fire we entered. Hello, cried the doctor, stopping
short. What's this kids? Good? Three of them? Ah? How
are you? The manner of asking the question was most indignant, not to
say threatening, and a gasp and heavy frown accompanied it. By this,
I knew that the doctor was about to make sport for Martha and Jimmie and
Sammy Jutt, as their names turned out to be, which often he did
for chillchildren by pretending to be in a great rage, and invariably they found
it delicious entertainment. For however fiercely he blustered, his eyes twinkled most merrily
all the time, so that one was irresistibly moved to chuckle with delight at
the sight of them, no matter how suddenly or how terribly he drew down
his brows. I like kids, said he, with a smack of the
lips, I eat em. Gurgles of delight escaped from the little juts,
and each turned to the other, the eyes of all dancing. And how
are you, the doctor demanded. His fierce little glance was indubitably directed at
little Sammy, as though God save us, the lad had no right to
be anything but well, and ought to be and should be birched on the
instant if he had the temerity to admit the smallest ache or pain from the
crown of his head to the soles of his feet. But Sammy looked frankly
into the flashing eyes, grinned, chuckled audibly, and lisped that he was
better. Better. The doctor exploded. If there, said Sammy. The
doctor searched Sammy's white face and scrawny body, as though for evidence to the
contrary. Is that the best you can do? He demanded better. Ah,
Why aren't you well? Ah? Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Sammie
was not at all ashamed of himself, and he was delighted with the big
stranger. Ah, the doctor growled again, looking Sammy over from head to
foot. I'll attend to you. Thereupon, Skipper Jonas took us to the
shed, where we laid off our packs and were brushed clean of snow.
And by that time Matilda Jut, the mother of Martha and Jimmie and Sammy,
had spread the table with the best She had little enough, god knows,
being but bread and tea, and was smiling beyond Presently there was nothing
left of the bread and tea. And then we drew up to the fire,
where the little Jut still sat regarding us with great interest. And I
observed that Martha Jutt held a letter in her hand, whereupon I divined precisely
what our arrival had interrupted, for I was Labrador born and knew well enough
what went on in the kitchens of our land of a Christmas Eve. And
now my girl, said the doctor, what's what? By this extraordinary question,
delivered as it was, in a manner that called imperatively for an answer.
Martha Jutt was quite nonplussed, as the doctor had intended she should be
What's what? Repeated the doctor. Quite startled, Martha lifted the letter from
her lap. He's not coming, sir, she gasped, for lack of
something better. You're disappointed, I see, said the doctor. So he's
not coming, No, sir, not this year. Well that's too bad.
But you mustn't mind it, you know, not for an instant.
What's the matter with him? He've broke his legs? Sir? What?
Cried the doctor, restored of a sudden to his natural manner, Poor fellow,
How did he come to do that? Catch him? Wanted a wild?
Dear sir? Catching a deer, the doctor exclaimed, A most extraordinary
thing. He was a fool to try it? How long ago? Sure
can't be more than half an hour, For he've the doctor jumped up.
Where is he? He demanded with professional eagerness. It can't be far,
davy. I must get to him at once. I must attend to that
leg. Where is he? Narth Pole, Sir whispered Sammie, Oh,
cried the doctor, and he sat down again and pursed his lips and winked
at Sammy in a way most peculiar. I see is sir, Jimmy rattled
eagerly. We're fair disappointed that he's not. Hah, The doctor interrupted,
I see hum well now, And, having thus incoherently exclaimed for a little,
the light in his eyes growing merrier all the time, he most unaccountably
worked himself into a great rage, whereby I knew that the little juts were
in some way to be mightily amused. The lazy rascal, he shouted,
jumping out of his chair and beginning to stamp the room, frowning terribly,
the fat idle, blundering dunderhead. Did they send you that message? Did
they now tell me? Did they give me that letter? He snatched the
letter from Martha's lap. Sammy, he demanded, where did this letter come
from? North Pole? Sir Jonas Jutt blushed and Matilda threw her apron over
her head to hide her confusion. And how did it come out of the
stove? Sir? The Doctor opened the letter and paused to slap it angrily
from time to time as he read it. North Pole, Dear Martha,
few lines to let you know on account of having broken me leg cotchin the
deer. I'm sorry. I'm in a state o hell, not being able
so as to be out in heavy weather. Hopin you is all well as
it leaves me yours, respectful sandy claws. Fish was poor, and it
would not be much this year's anyways, Tell little Sammy, Ha, cried
the doctor, as he crushed the letter to a little ball and flung it
under the table. Ha, that's the kind of thing that happens when one's
away from home. There you have it. Discipline gone to the dogs,
system gone to the dogs. Everything gone to the dogs. Now what do
you think of that? He scowled, and gritted his teeth and puffed and
said, ha, in a fashion so threatening that one must needs have fled
the room had there not been a curiously reassuring twinkle in his eyes. What
do you think of that? He repeated fiercely, at last, a countermanded
order. I'll attend to him, he burst out. I'll fix that fellow,
the lazy dunderhead. I'll soon fix him. Give me pen and ink?
Where's the paper? Never mind, I've got some in my pack.
One moment and I'll He rushed to the shed, to the great surprise and
alarm of the little juts, and loudly called back for a candle, which
Skipper Jonas carried to him. And when he had been gone a long time,
he returned with a letter in his hand, still ejaculating in a great
rage. See that, said he to the three little jets. Well that's
for Santa Claus's clerk. That'll fix him. That'll blister the stupid fellow.
Please, sir, whispered Martha jut Well, snapped the doctor, stopping short
in a rush to the stove. Please, sir, said Martha, taking
courage and laying a timid hand on his arm. Sure, I don't know
what tis all about. I don't know what blunder he made, but aninkin'
sir, you'll be sorry if you axe in haste. Tis wise to count
a hundred. Don't be too hard on him, sir, tis like the
blunder may be mended. Tis like he'll do better next time. Don't be
hard hard on him, the doctor interrupted, Hard on him, hard on,
that is, sir, she pleaded, looking fearlessly up. Won't you
count a hundred? Count? It, said he grimly. Martha counted.
I observed that the numbers fell slower and yet more slowly from her lips,
until and she was keenly on the watch. A gentler look overspread the doctor's
face, and then she rattled them off, as though she feared he might
change his mind once more. And a hundred she concluded, breathless. Well,
the doctor drawled, rubbing his nose. I'll modify it, whereupon Martha
smiled, just oblige you. Whereupon she blushed. So he scratched a deal
of the letter out. Then he sealed it, strode to the stove,
opened the door, flung the letter into the flames, slammed the door,
and turned with a wondrously sweet smile to the amaze little juts there. He
sighed, I think that will do the trick. We'll soon know. At
any rate, we waited, all very still, all with eyes wide open,
all gazing fixedly at the door of the stove. Then, all at
once, and in the very deepest of the silence, the doctor uttered a
startling ah, leaped from his chair with such violence that he overturned it awkwardly,
upset Jimmy Jutt's stool, and sent the lad tumbling head over heels,
for which he did not stop to apologize, And there was great confusion in
the midst of which the doctor jerked the stove door open, thrust in his
arm, and snatched a blazing letter straight from the flames, all before Jimmy
and Martha and Sammy Jutt had time to recover from the daze into which the
sudden uproar had thrown them. There, cried the doctor when he had managed
to extinguish the blaze. We'll just see what's in this better news warrant.
You may be sure that the little juts were blinking amazement. There could be
no doubt about the authenticity of that communication, and the doctor seemed to know
it, for he calmly tore the envelope open, glanced the contents over,
and turned to Martha, the broadest of grins wrinkling his face. Martha Jutt
said, he will you please be good enough to read that and Martha read
North Pole December twenty fourth, ten eighteen p m. To Captain Blizzard Jonah
Jutt's cottage, topmost Tickle, Labrador Coast, Respected, Sir, regret erroneous
report, mistake of a clerk in the Bureau of Information, Santa Claus got
away at nine thirty six whend blowing due south, strong and fresh snow,
Chief Clerk. Then there was a great outburst of glee. It was the
doctor who raised the first cheer three times three and a tiger. And what
a tiger itt is? Was? What with the treble of Sammy, which
was of the thinnest description, and the treble of Martha, which was full
and sure, and the treble of Jimmy, which dangerously bordered on a cracked
base, And what with Matilda's cackle and Skipper Jonas's croak, and my own
who rays and the Doctor's guttural uproar which might have been mistaken for a very
double bass. What with all this, as you may be sure, the
shout of the wind was nowhere. Then we joined hands. It was the
doctor who began it by catching Martha and Matilda and danced the table round,
shaking our feet and tossing our arms. The glee, ever more uproarious,
danced until we were breathless, every one save little Sammy, who was not
asked to join the gambol, but sat still in his chair and seemed to
expect no invitation. Whend blown due south, strong and fresh, gasped Jimmy
when at last we sat down. He'll be down in a hurry with they
swilt deer ny, but he'll just whizz in this gale. But tis sad,
tis too late to get word to him, said Martha, the smile
gone from her face. Sad, is it, cried the doctor, sad.
What's the word you want to send? Tis something for Sammy? Sir?
Sammy gave Martha a quick dig in the ribs, and Mamma, he
lisped, reproachfully, is sir, we'll want it bad? And does ye
think us could get word to him for Sammie, sir? A Mamma Sammie
insisted we can try at any rate. The doctor answered, doubtfully. Maybe
we can catch him on the way down. Where's that pin? Here we
are now? He scribbled, rapidly, folded the letter in great haste,
and dispatched it to Santa Claus's clerk by the simple process of throwing it in
the fire. As before, he went to his pack in the shed,
taking the candle with him. The errand appeared to be really most trivial,
and stayed so long that the little juts, who now loved him very much
as I could see, wished that the need would not rise again. But
all in good time. He returned and sat to watch for the reply,
intent as any of them, and presently he snatched the stove door open,
creating great confusion in the act as before, and before the little judts could
recover from the sudden surprise, he held up a smoking letter. Then he
read aloud, try Hamilton Inlet. Touch is there? Ten forty eight?
Time of arrival of topmastickle. Uncertain, no use waiting up snow clerk by
jove, exclaimed the doctor. That's jolly touches Hamilton Inlet. At ten forty
eight, he consulted his watch. It's now ten forty three and a half.
We've just four and a half minutes. I'll get a message off at
once. Where's the confounded pin Ah? Here we are now? What is
it you want for Sammy and Mamma? The three little Juts were suddenly thrown
into a fearful state of excitement. They tried to talk all at once,
but not one of them could frame a coherent sentence. It was most distressful
to see the exterminator. Martha managed to jerk out at last. Oh Ay,
cried Jimmy, Jut, quick, sir, write and down Pine's prompt
pain exterminator warranted to cure. Please, sir, make haste. The doctor
stared at Jimmy. Oh Zurr groaned Martha. Don't be starin like that,
right, sir? Twas all in the paper. The prospector left last summer.
Pine's prompt pain Exterminator cures boils, rheumatism, pains in the back and
chest, sore throat and all they things and warts on the hands by a
simple application with brown paper. We wants it for the rheumatism, Sir oh
Zurr. None genuine without the label, Jimmy put in in an excited rattle.
Money refunded. If no cure, get a bar with the label.
The doctor laughed, laughed aloud, and laughed again. By Jove, he
roared, you'll get it. It's odd, but ah, by Jove,
he has it. In stock. The laughter and repeated assurance seemed vastly to
encourage Jimmy and Martha. The doctor wrote like mad while he talked, but
not Little Sammy. All that he lisped, all that he shouted, all
that he screamed, had gone unheeded. As though unable to put up with
the neglect any longer, he limped over the floor to Martha and tugged her
sleeve, and pulled at Jimmy's coat tail, and jogged the doctor's arm,
until at last he attracted a measure of attention. Notwithstanding his mother's protest,
notwithstanding her giggles and waving hands, notwithstanding that she blushed as red as ink,
until as I perceived, her freckles were all lost to sight. Notwithstanding
that she threw her apron over her head and rushed headlong from the room to
the imminent danger of the door post. Little Sammy insisted that his mother's gift
should be named in the letter of request. Quick cried the doctor, what
is it? We've but half a minute left. Sammy began to stutter.
Make haste by it, cried Jimmy. One bottle of the magic Egyptian beautifier,
said Sammy, quite distinctly for the first time in his life. The
doctor looked blank, but he doggedly nodded his head nevertheless, and wrote it
down. And off went the letter at precisely ten forty seven forty five,
as the doctor said later, when the excitement had all subsided and we sat
dreaming in the warmth and glow, the doctor took little Sammy in his lap
and told him he was a very good boy, and looked deep in his
eyes, and stroked his hair, and at last, very tenderly bared his
knee. Sammy flinched at that, and he said ouch once and screwed up
his face. When the doctor, his gruffness all gone, his eyes gentle
and sad, his hand as light as a mother's, worked the joint and
felt the knee cap and socket with the tips of his fingers. And is
this the room? It is? The prompt exterminator is to cure Sammy,
He asked, if there? And is that where it hurts you, right
on the point of the bone there, if there? And was there no
fall on the rocket? All? Ah, there was a fall and the
bruise was just there where it hurts so much, and it's very hard to
bear isn't it? Sammy shook his head. No, but it hurts a
great deal sometimes, does it not. That's too bad, that's very sad,
indeed. But perhaps perhaps Sammy, I can cure it for you,
if you are brave. And are you brave? No? Oh, I
think you are. And you'll try to be at any rate, won't you.
Of course, that's a good boy. And so with his sharp little
knives, the doctor cured Sammy Jutt's knee while the lad lay white and still
on the kitchen table. And twas not hard to do. But had not
the doctor chanced that way, Sammy Jutt would have been a cripple all his
life. Doctor Zirr, said Matilda Jut, when the children were put to
bed with Martha to watch by Sammy, who was still very sick. Is
you really got a bottle of Pine's pomped? The doctor laughed, an empty
bottle, said he. I picked it up a poverty cove, thought it
might come useful. I'll put Sammy's medicine in that they'll not know the difference,
and you'll treat the knee with it, as I've told you. That's
all we must turn in at once, for we must be gone before the
children wake in the morning, Oh isy, sir, And she began,
but hesitated, much embarrassed. Well, the doctor aked asked, with a
smile, would you mind putting some queer lookin stuff on one of the bottles
of yours, not in the least in surprise, and writing something on a
bit of paper. She went on, pulling at her apron and looking down
and goin' it to the bottle. Not at all. But what shall I
write? She flushed? Magic Egyptian beautifiers? Sir, she answered, for
I'm thinkin' twould please little Sammy to think that Sandy Claus left something for me
too. If you think that the three little juts found nothing but bottles of
medicine in their stockings when they got downstairs on Christmas morning, you are very
much mistaken. Indeed, there was much more than that, a great deal
more than that. I will not tell you what it was, for you
might sniff and say, huh, that's little enough. But there was more
than medicine. No man, rich man, poor man, beggar man,
thief, doctor, lawyer, or merchant chief never yet left a Hudson's Bay
Company's post. Stared in the face by the chance of having to seek hospitality
of a Christmas Eve. No right feeling man I say, ever, yet
left a Hudson's Bay Company's post under such circumstances without putting something more than medicine
in his pack. I chanced to know at any rate, that upon this
occasion Doctor Luke did not. And I know too you may be interested to
learn it that as we floundered through the deep snow homeward bound soon after dawn
the next day, he was glad enough that he hadn't No merry shouts came
over the white miles from the cottage of Jonas Jutt, though I am sure
that they rang there most heartily. But the doctor did not care. He
shouted merrily enough for himself, for he was very happy. And that's the
way you'd feel too, if you spent your days hunting good deeds to do
and of smiths Eve at topmast Tickle by Norman Duncan