Page:Blackwood's Magazine volume 137.djvu/757

1885.] heavy boot was still throbbing and thrilling through all his fevered pulses; and as the green shores of the land-locked bay seemed to slip past the stationary steamer, he paid no sort of attention to the scenery. But as a sense of soothing succeeded to acute torments, a change came over the spirit of his dreams. The American's violent remedy had brought temporary relief: instead of being worse, he felt decidedly better. And in that he saw a direct interposition of the Providence which had consistently befriended him through his many wanderings. He had prided himself on always making the best of mankind as he found them, and here was an opportunity of rising to the occasion – of coming out strong, like Mr Tapley under adverse circumstances. He would make the best of the circumstances, unpromising as they were, and show himself more than civil to the uncongenial companions of his solitude. An almost miraculous lull in his pains confirmed him in his manly resolutions. And when the tinkling of a cracked bell announced the serving of an early dinner, he almost felt equal to the occasion. In fact, having merely broken his fast upon tea and toast, and being a man of active habits, and by no means, generally speaking, a gouty subject, the cravings of nature began to assert themselves.

He was pleased to find the cabin comparatively well ventilated. The active Mr Willis had persuaded the steward to open one or two of the bull's-eyes and admit a current of air. Four gentlemen had already taken their places at a table seated for a dozen: there was his American acquaintance opposite to the minister; while the skipper, who occupied the place of honour at the top, was faced by a sheep-farmer from "misty Skye," bound on a pleasure-jaunt to the western metropolis of Scotland.

There is no nobler sight for gods or men than "a great man struggling with the storms of fate." Cato-like, the Honourable Mr Winstanley had screwed himself up to a pitch of philosophy, where he was not to be lightly shaken. He scarcely flinched, so far as could be seen in the dusky twilight of the cabin, when the American welcomed him with the cordiality of an old acquaintance, whose friendly offices had given a claim on his goodwill.

"Wal, stranger," exclaimed that really good fellow, with a warmth that meant a hearty introduction to the company, – "wal, stranger, here you are, all slicked up and smoothed down. Guess, when you limped aft with the broken balance of you, after I had most crushed off that gouty foot of yourn, the bristles were up along the back like a catamount. That was human natur', and I apologise. You remembered me of old Jeb Peabody and Judge Mason's bull. You want to hear about it, you say. Wal, Jeb was ferryman at Salem Flats, on the Chickabody river, and he kept a liquor-bar, and a store for general rations to the back of that. All-fired deaf he was, ever since he had been hoisted by mistake, when the boys forgot him, over a blastin' charge in a quartz-mine down to Denver. He could take a power of drink could Jeb, but he was apt to get drowsy over it in a general way. Wal, one night he was sitting nodding behind his pipe in his shanty, when he hears somebody a-tapping at the door. 'Come in,' says Jeb, still sleepy-like. The party on the wrong side of the shingles raps again. 'Come in,' says Jeb again, 'or else, I guess, though it's well on in the fall, you'll find it kinder warm when you do come.' The