[Illustration: “I SEED THE SHAPE OF A MAN LEAP FOR MY PLACE”]
“‘Now, lads,’ yells Tommy Jump, when he got all hands amidships, ‘you better quit the ship. The best time,’ says he, ‘will be when you sees _me_ go overside. But don’t get in my way. You get your own pans. God help the man that gets in my way!’
“Tommy Jump went overside when the ice opened an’ the _Second t’ None_ begun t’ go down an’ the sea was spread with small pans, floatin’ free. ’Twas near dawn then. Things was gray; an’ the shapes o’ things was strange an’ big—out o’ size, fearsome. Dawn shot over the sea, a wide, flat beam from the east, an’ the shadows was big, an’ the light dim, an’ the air full o’ whirlin’ snow; an’ men’s eyes was too wide an’ red an’ frightened t’ look with sure sight upon the world. An’ all the ice was in a tumble o’ black water.... An’ the _Second t’ None_ went down.... An’ I ’lowed they wasn’t no room on my pan for nobody but me. But I seed the shape of a man leap for my place. An’ I cursed un, an’ bade un go farther, or I’d drown un. An’ he leaped for the pan that lied next, where Jowl was afloat, with no room t’ spare. An’ Jowl hit quick an’ hard. He was waitin’, with his fists closed, when the black shape landed; an’ he hit quick an’ hard without lookin’.... An’ I seed the face in the water.... An’, oh, I knowed who ’twas!
“Jowl was now but a shape in the snow. ‘That you, Tumm?’ says he. ‘What you sayin’?’
“’ Why didn’t you take time t’ _look_?’ says I. ‘Oh, Jowl! _why_ didn’t you take time?’
“‘What you sayin’ that for, Tumm?’ says he. ‘What you mean, Tumm? ... My God!’ says he, ‘what is I gone an’ done? Who _was_ that, Tumm? My God! Tell me! What is I done?’
“‘Oh, make haste,’ says he, ‘afore I drifts away!’
“An’ he fell flat on the ice....An’ I didn’t see Jowl no more for four year. He was settled at Mad Tom’s Harbor then, where you seed un t’-day; an’ his wife was dead, an’ he didn’t go no more t’ the Labrador, nor t’ the ice, but fished the Mad Tom grounds with hook-an’-line on quiet days, an’ was turned timid, they said, with fear o’ the sea....”
The _Good Samaritan_ ran softly through the slow, sleepy sea, bound across the bay to trade the ports of the shore.
“I tells you, sir,” Tumm burst out, “’tis hell. _Life_ is! Maybe not where you hails from, sir; but ’tis on this coast. I ’low where you comes from they don’t take lives t’ save their own?”