Speaker 1: 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