A. C. Laut - "Lords of the North"

Elinor Glyn - "Man and Maid"

William Edmonstoune Aytoun - "The Bon Gaultier Ballads"

Havelock Ellis - "Essays in War Time"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Doctor Luke of the Labrador

N >> Norman Duncan >> Doctor Luke of the Labrador




"So we up an' laid a course for Broad Cove; an' they was three schooners
harboured there when we run in. We anchored well outside o' them; an',
sure, we thought the schooner was safe, for we knowed she'd ride out
what was blowin', if it took so much as a week t' blow out. But it
blowed harder--harder yet: a thick wind, squally, too, blowin' dead on
shore, where the breakers was leapin' half-way up the cliff. By midnight
the seas was smotherin' her, fore an' aft, an' she was tuggin' at her
bow anchor chain like a fish at the line. Lord! many a time I thought
she'd rip her nose off when a hill o' suddy water come atop of her with
a thud an' a hiss.

"'She'll go ashore on them boilin' rocks,' says the cook.

"We was sittin' in the cabin--the cook an' the second hand an' me.

"''Tis wonderful cold,' says the second hand.

"'I'm chillin', meself,' says the cook.

"'Chillin'!' thinks I, havin' in mind the way poor Tommy Mib was took.
'Has you a pain in your back?' says I.

"They was shiverin' a wonderful lot, an' the cook was holdin' his head
in his hands, just like Tommy Mib used t' do.

"'Ay, b'y,' says he.

"'Ay, b'y,' says the second hand.

"'Been drilled too hard o' late,' says the cook. 'We're all wore out
along o' work an' worry.'

"I didn't wait for no more. 'H-m-m!' says I, 'I thinks I'll take a look
outside.'

"It was dawn then. Lord! what a sulky dawn it was! All gray, an' drivin'
like mad. The seas was rollin' in, with a frothy wind-lop atop o' them.
They'd lift us, smother us, drop us, toss the schooners ridin' in our
lee, an' go t' smash on the big, black rocks ashore. Lord! how they
pulled at the old _Sink or Swim_! 'Twas like as if they wanted her bad
for what she done. Seems t' me the Lord God A'mighty must 'a' knowed
what He was about. Seems to me the Lord God A'mighty said t' Hisself:
'Skipper Jim,' says He, 'I'm through usin' _you_. I've done all the
damage I want done along o' you. I've sent some o' the wicked t' beds
they chose t' lie on; an' the good folk--all the good folk an' little
kids I couldn't wait no longer for, I loved un so--I've took up here.
Ay, Jim,' says the Lord God A'mighty, 'I'm through usin' you; an' I got
t' get rid o' the old _Sink or Swim_. I'm sorry for the cook an' the
second hand an' poor Tommy Mib,' says He, 'wonderful sorry; but I can't
run My world no other way. An' when you comes t' think it over,' says
He, 'you'll find 'tis the best thing that could happen t' they, for
they're took most wonderful bad.' Oh ay," said Docks, with a gentle
smile, "the Lord God A'mighty knowed what He was about.

"I went for'ard t' have a look at the chain. Skipper Jim hisself was
there, watchin' it close.

"'She's draggin',' says he. But I wouldn't 'a' knowed that voice for
Skipper Jim's--'twas so hollow and breathless. 'She's draggin',' says
he. 'Let her drag. They's a better anchorage in there a bit. She'll take
the bottom agin afore she strikes them craft.'

"We was draggin' fast--bearin' straight down on the craft inside. They
was a trader an' two Labrador fishin'-craft. The handiest was a fishin'
boat, bound home with the summer's cotch, an' crowded with men, women,
an' kids. We took the bottom an' held fast within thirty fathom of her
bow. I could see the folk on deck--see un plain as I sees you--hands an'
lips an' eyes. They was swarmin' fore an' aft like a lot o' scared
seal--wavin' their arms, shakin' their fists, jabberin', leapin' about
in the wash o' the seas that broke over the bows.

"'Docks,' says the skipper, 'what's the matter with they folk, anyhow?
We isn't draggin', is we?' says he, half cryin'. 'We isn't hurtin'
_they_, is we?'

"An old man--'tis like he was skipper o' the craft--come runnin'
for'ard, with half a dozen young fellows in his wake. 'Sheer off!' sings
the old one. He jabbered a bit more, all the while wavin' us off, but a
squall o' wind carried it all away. 'We'll shoot you like dogs an you
don't!' says one o' the young ones; an' at that I felt wonderful mean
an' wicked an' sorry. Back aft they went. There they talked an' talked;
an' as they talked they pointed--pointed t' the breakers that was
boilin' over the black rocks; pointed t' the spumey sea an' t' the low,
ragged clouds drivin' across it; pointed t' the _Sink or Swim_. Then the
skipper took the wheel, an' the crew run for'ard t' the windlass an' jib
sheets.

"'Skipper, sir,' says I, 'they're goin' t' slip anchor an' run!'

"'Ay,' says Skipper Jim, 'they knows us, b'y! They knows the _Sink or
Swim_. We lies t' win'ard, an' they're feared o' the smallpox. They'll
risk that craft--women an' kids an' all--t' get away. They isn't a craft
afloat can beat t' sea in this here gale. They'll founder, lad, or
they'll drive on the rocks an' loss themselves, all hands. 'Tis an evil
day for this poor old schooner, Docks,' says he, with a sob, 'that
men'll risk the lives o' kids an' women t' get away from her; an' 'tis
an evil day for my crew.' With that he climbed on the rail, cotched the
foremast shrouds with one hand, put the other to his mouth, an' sung
out: 'Ahoy, you! Bide where you is! Bide where you is!' Then he jumped
down; an' he says t' me, 'tween gasps, for the leap an' shout had taken
all the breath out of un, 'Docks,' says he, 'they's only one thing for a
man t' do in a case like this. Get the jib up, b'y. I'm goin' aft t' the
wheel. Let the anchor chain run out when you sees me wave my hand. See,
lad,' says he, pointin' t' leeward, 'they're waitin', aboard that
fishin' craft, t' see what we'll do. We'll show un that we're men!
Jagger be damned,' says he; 'we'll show un that we're men! Call the
hands,' says he; 'but leave Tommy Mib lie quiet in his bunk,' says he,
'for he's dead.'

"'Skipper Jim,' says I, lookin' in his blood-red eyes, an' then t' the
breakers, 'what you goin' t' do?'

"'Beach her,' says he.

"'Is you gone an' forgot,' says I, 'about Jagger?'

"'Never you mind about Jagger, Docks,' says he. 'I'll see _him_,' says
he, 'later. Call the hands,' says he, 'an' we'll wreck her like men!'"

Docks covered his face with his hands. Place was once more given to the
noises of the gale. He looked up--broken, listless; possessed again by
the mood of that time.

"An' what did _you_ say, lad?" Skipper Billy whispered.

"I hadn't no objection," sighed the lad.

The answer was sufficient.

* * * * *

"So I called the hands," Docks went on. "An' when the second hand
cotched sight o' the rocks we was bound for, he went mad, an' tumbled
over the taffrail; an' the cook was so weak a lurch o' the ship flung
him after the second hand afore we reached the breakers. I never seed
Skipper Jim no more; nor the cook, nor the second hand, nor poor Tommy
Mib. But I'm glad the Lord God A'mighty give Jim the chance t' die
right, though he'd lived wrong. Oh, ay! I'm fair glad the good Lord done
that. The Labradormen give us a cheer when the chain went rattlin' over
an' the _Sink or Swim_ gathered way--a cheer, sir, that beat its way
agin the wind--God bless them!--an' made me feel that in the end I was
a man agin. She went t' pieces when she struck," he added, as if in
afterthought; "but I'm something of a hand at swimmin', an' I got ashore
on a bit o' spar. An' then I come down the coast 'til I found you lyin'
here in the lee o' Saul's Island." After a pause, he said hoarsely, to
Skipper Billy: "They had the smallpox at Tops'l Cove, says you? They got
it yet at Smith's Arm? At Harbour Rim an' Highwater Cove they been
dyin'? How did they die at Seldom Cove? Like flies, says you? An' one
was a kid?"

"_My_ kid," said Skipper Billy, quietly still.

"My God!" cried Docks. "_His_ kid! How does that there song go? What
about they lakes o' fire? Wasn't it,

"'They's lakes o' fire in hell t' sail for such as Skipper Jim!'

you sung? Lord! sir, I'm thinkin' I'll have t' ship along o' Skipper Jim
once more!"

"No, no, lad!" cried Skipper Billy, speaking from the heart. "For you
was willin' t' die right. But God help Jagger on the mornin' o' the
Judgment Day! I'll be waitin' at the foot o' the throne o' God t' charge
un with the death o' my wee kid!"

Doctor Luke sat there frowning.




XXVI

DECOYED


Despite Skipper Billy's anxious, laughing protest that 'twas not yet fit
weather to be at sea, the doctor next day ordered the sail set: for, as
he said, he was all of a maddening itch to be about certain business, of
a professional and official turn, at our harbour and Wayfarer's Tickle,
and could no longer wait the pleasure of a damned obstinate nor'east
gale--a shocking way to put it, indeed, but vastly amusing when uttered
with a fleeting twinkle of the eye: vastly convincing, too, followed by
a snap of the teeth and the gleam of some high, heroic purpose. So we
managed to get the able little _Greased Lightning_ into the thick of
it--merrily into the howl and gray frown of that ill-minded sea--and,
though wind and sea, taking themselves seriously, conspired to smother
her, we made jolly reaches to the nor'ard, albeit under double reefs,
and came that night to Poor Luck Harbour, where the doctor's sloop was
waiting. There we bade good-bye to the mood-stricken Docks, and a short
farewell to Skipper Billy, who must return into the service of the
Government doctors from St. Johns, now, at last, active in the smallpox
ports. And next morning, the wind having somewhat abated in the night,
the doctor and I set sail for our harbour, where, two days later, with
the gale promising to renew itself, we dropped anchor: my dear sister,
who had kept watch from her window, now waiting on my father's wharf.

* * * * *

It seemed to me then--and with utmost conviction I uttered the feeling
abroad, the while perceiving no public amusement--that the powers of
doctors were fair witchlike: for no sooner had my sweet sister swallowed
the first draught our doctor mixed--nay, no sooner had it been offered
her in the silver spoon, and by the doctor, himself--than her soft cheek
turned the red of health, and her dimples, which of late had been
expressionless, invited kisses in a fashion the most compelling, so that
a man of mere human parts would swiftly take them, though he were next
moment hanged for it. I marvel, indeed, that Doctor Luke could resist
them; but resist he did: as I know, for, what with lurking and peeping
(my heart being anxiously enlisted), I took pains to discover the fact,
and was in no slight degree distressed by it. For dimples were made for
kissing--else for what?--and should never go unsatisfied; they are so
frank in pleading that 'twould be sheer outrage for the lips of men to
feel no mad desire: which, thank God! seldom happens. But, then, what
concern have I, in these days, with the identical follies of dimples and
kissing?

"'Tis a wonderful clever doctor," said I to my sister, my glance fixed
in amazement on her glowing cheeks, "that we got in Doctor Luke."

"Ah, yes!" she sighed: but so demure that 'twas not painful to hear it.

"An', ecod!" I declared, "'tis a wonderful clever medicine that he've
been givin' you."

"Ecod! Davy Roth," she mocked, a sad little laugh in her eyes, "an'
how," said she, "did you manage to find it out?"

"Bessie!" cried I, in horror. "Do you stop that swearin'! For an you
don't," I threatened, "I'll give you----"

"Hut!" she flouted. "'Tis your own word."

"Then," I retorted, "I'll never say it again. Ecod! but I won't."

She pinched my cheek.

"An' I'm wonderin'," I sighed, reverting to the original train of
thought, which was ever a bothersome puzzle, "how he can keep from
kissin' you when he puts the spoon in your mouth. Sure," said I, "he've
such a wonderful good chance t' do it!"

It may have been what I said; it may have been a familiar footfall in
the hall: at any rate, my sister fled in great confusion. And, pursuing
heartily, I caught her in her room before she closed the door, but
retreated in haste, for she was already crying on the bed. Whereupon, I
gave up the puzzle of love, once and for all; and, as I sought the windy
day, I was established in the determination by a glimpse of the doctor,
sitting vacant as an imbecile in the room where my sister and I had
been: whom I left to his own tragedy, myself being wearied out of
patience by it.

"The maid that turns _me_ mad," was my benighted reflection, as I
climbed the Watchman to take a look at the weather, "will be a wonderful
clever hand."

* * * * *

Unhappily, there had been no indictable offense in Jagger's connection
with the horrid crimes of the _Sink or Swim_ (as the doctor said with a
wry face): for Docks would be but a poor witness in a court of law at
St. Johns' knowing nothing of his own knowledge, but only by hearsay;
and the bones of Skipper Jim already lay stripped and white in the
waters of the Harbourless Shore. But, meantime, the doctor kept watch
for opportunity to send frank warning to the man of Wayfarer's Tickle;
and, soon, chance offered by way of the schooner _Bound Down_, Skipper
Immerly Swat, whom the doctor charged, with a grim little grin, to
inform the evil fellow that he was to be put in jail, out of hand, when
first he failed to walk warily: a message to which Jagger returned (by
the skipper of the _Never Say Die_) an answer of the sauciest--so saucy,
indeed, that the doctor did not repeat it, but flushed and kept silent.
And now the coast knew of the open war; and great tales came to us of
Jagger's laughter and loose-mouthed boasting--of his hate and ridicule
and defiant cursing: so that the doctor wisely conceived him to be upon
the verge of some cowardly panic. But the doctor went about his usual
work, healing the sick, quietly keeping the helm of our business, as
though nothing had occurred: and grimly waited for the inevitable hour.

Jonas Jutt, of Topmast Tickle, with whom we had passed a Christmas
Eve--the father of Martha and Jimmie and Sammy Jutt--came by stealth to
our harbour to speak a word with the doctor. "Doctor Luke," said he,
between his teeth, "I'm this year in service t' Jagger o' Wayfarer's
Tickle; an' I've heared tell o' the quarrel atween you; an'...."

"Yes?" the doctor inquired.

"I've took sides."

"I rather think," the doctor observed, "that you can tell me something
I very much want to know."

"I've no wish, God knows!" Jonas continued, with deep feeling, "t'
betray my master. But you--_you_, zur--cured my child, an' I'm wantin'
t' do you a service."

"I think you can."

"I knows I can! I know--I _knows_--that which will put Jagger t' makin'
brooms in the jail t' St. Johns."

"Ah!" the doctor drawled. "I wish," said he, "that I knew that."

"I knows," Jonas pursued, doggedly, though it went against the grain,
"that last week he wrecked the _Jessie Dodd_ on the Ragged Edge at
Wayfarer's Tickle. I knows that she was insured for her value and
fifteen hundred quintal o' Labrador fish. I knows that they wasn't a
fish aboard. I knows that every fish is safe stowed in Jagger's stores.
I knows that the schooner lies near afloat at high tide. I knows that
she'll go t' pieces in the winter gales. I knows----"

The doctor lifted his hand. He was broadly smiling. "You have told me,"
said he, "quite enough. Go back to Wayfarer's Tickle. Leave me," he
added, "to see that Jagger learns the worthy trade of broom-making. You
have done me--great service."

"Ah, but," cried Jonas, gripping the doctor's hand, "_you_ cured my
little Sammy!"

The doctor mused. "It may be difficult," he said, by and by, "to fix
this wreck upon Jagger."

"Hist!" Jonas replied, stepping near. "The skipper o' the _Jessie
Dodd_," he whispered, pointedly, solemnly closing one eye, "is wonderful
weak in the knees."

Doctor and I went then in the sloop to Wayfarer's Tickle (the wind
favouring us); and there we found the handsome _Jessie Dodd_ lying
bedraggled and disconsolate on the Ragged Edge, within the harbour:
slightly listed, but afloat aft, and swinging with the gentle lift and
fall of the water. We boarded her, sad at heart that a craft so lovely
should come to a pass like this; and 'twas at once plain to us
sailor-men that 'twas a case of ugly abandonment, if not of
barratry--plain, indeed, to such as knew the man, that in conspiracy
with the skipper Jagger had caused the wreck of the schooner, counting
upon the isolation of the place, the lateness of the season, the
simplicity of the folk, the awe in which they held him--upon all this to
conceal the crime: as often happens on our far-off coast. So we took the
skipper into custody (and this with a high hand) unknown to Jagger--got
him, soon, safe into the sloop: so cowed and undone by the doctor's
manner that he miserably whined for chance to turn Queen's evidence in
our behalf. 'Twas very sad--nauseating, too: so that one wished to stop
the white, writhing lips with a hearty buffet; for rascals should be
strong, lest their pitiful complaints distress the hearts of honest men,
who have not deserved the cruel punishment.

Jagger came waddling down to the landing, his great dog at his heels.
"What you doin'," he demanded, scowling like a thunder-storm, "with that
man?"

"I next call your attention," the doctor answered, with a smile of the
most engaging sort, like a showman once I saw in the South, "to the most
be-_witch_ing exhibit in this vast concourse of wonders. We have
here--don't crowd, _if_ you please--we have here the skipper of the
schooner _Jessie Dodd_, cast away on the Ragged Edge at Wayfarer's
Tickle. He is--and I direct your particular attention to the astounding
fact--under arrest; being taken by a magistrate duly appointed by the
authorities at St Johns. Observe, if you will, his--ah--rather abject
condition. Mark his penitent air. Conceive, if you can, the--ah--ardour
with which he will betray----"

Jagger turned on his heel--and went wearily away. And I have never
forgiven the doctor his light manner upon this wretched occasion: for
it seems to me (but I am not sure of it) that rascals, also, are
entitled to the usual courtesy. At any rate, in uttermost despair we
paid for the lack of it.

* * * * *

I copy, now, from the deposition of Allworthy Grubb, master of the
schooner _Jessie Dodd_, Falmouth, England, as taken that night at our
harbour: "The 'Jessie Dodd' was chartered by Thomas Jagger, doing
business at Wayfarer's Tickle, to load fish for across.... I do hereby
make a voluntary statement, with my own free will, and without any
inducement whatever.... Thomas Jagger offered me, if I would put the
'Jessie Dodd' ashore, he would give me half the profits realized on ship
and cargo. This he promised me on a Sunday morning in his fish stage
opposite to where the ship was put ashore. After the ship was put ashore
he no longer discussed about the money I was to receive.... Two days
before the 'Jessie Dodd' was put ashore I broke the wheel chain and tied
the links with spunyarn. I showed the broken links to Mr. Jagger. The
day we were starting there was rum served out to the crew. Mr. Jagger
supplied it. When the vessel started, nearly all the crew were drunk. I
had the wheel. About five minutes after she started I cut the spunyarn.
The vessel began to go on the rocks. One of the crew shouted,
'Hard-a-starboard!' I shouted that the port wheel chain was broken.
Then the vessel went ashore.... Mr. Jagger sent a kettle of rum
aboard, which I had served to the crew. No attempt was made to get the
vessel off.... When I saw Mr. Jagger he told me I was a seven kinds of
a fool for putting her ashore where I did. He said it would be all
right, anyhow. He said they were all afraid of him. He said no one would
give it away.... I am guilty of putting the 'Jessie Dodd' ashore, for
which I am extremely sorry of being prompted to do so by Thomas Jagger,
and to be so sadly led away into such depravity. Had it not been for
such an irreproachable character, which I have held previous to this
dreadful act, ten minutes after the occurrence I would have given myself
up. Not one hour since but what I have repented bitterly...." I present
this that the doctor may not appear unfairly to have initiated a
prosecution against his enemy: though that were a blessing to our coast.

"Davy," said the doctor, briskily, when the writing was done, "I must
leave Captain Grubb to your hospitality for a time. It will be necessary
for me to go south to the cable station at Chateau. The support of
Lloyds--since Jagger has influence at St. Johns--will be invaluable in
this case."

He set sail in the sloop next day.

It was now late in the fall of the year. Young slob ice was forming by
night in the quiet places of the harbour. The shiver of winter was
everywhere abroad.... For a week the weather continued ominous--with
never a glint of sunshine to gladden us. Drear weather,
treacherous--promising grief and pain. Off shore, the schooners of the
great fleet crept by day to the s'uth'ard, harbouring by night: taking
quick advantage of the variable winds, as chance offered. 'Twas thus
that the doctor returned to our harbour; and there he was held, from day
to day, by vicious winds, which the little sloop could not carry, by
great, black seas, which she could not ride.... One day, being ill at
ease, we went to the Watchman, that we might descry the first favourable
sign. In the open, the wind was still to the north of east--but wildly
capricious: blowing hither and thither; falling, too, to a sigh, rising,
all at once, to a roaring gust, which tore at the whisps of grass and
fairly sucked the breath from one's body. Overhead, the sky was low and
tumultuous; great banks of black cloud, flecked with gray and
white--ragged masses--went flying inland, as in a panic. There was no
quiet light in the east, no clean air between; 'twas everywhere
thick--everywhere sullen.... We left the Watchman downcast--each, too,
preoccupied. In my heart was the heavy feeling that some sad thing was
about to befall us....

* * * * *

I must tell, now, that, before the smallpox came to Poor Luck Harbour,
the doctor had chartered the thirty-ton _Trap and Seine_ for our
business: with which Skipper Tommy Lovejoy and the twins, with four men
of our harbour, had subsequently gone north to Kidalik, where the
fishing was reported good beyond dreams. 'Twas time for the schooner to
be home. She was long overdue; and in great anxiety we awaited her
return or news of her misfortune: the like of which often happens on our
coast, where news proceeds only by word of mouth. 'Twas in part in hope
of catching sight of her barked topsail that we had gone to the
Watchman. But at that moment the _Trap and Seine_ lay snug at anchor in
Wayfarer's Tickle: there delayed for more civil weather in which to
attempt the passage of the Bay, for she was low in the water with her
weight of fish, and Skipper Tommy had a mind to preserve his good
fortune against misadventure. And, next day, the wind being still
unfavourable, he had Timmie row him ashore, that he might pass an hour
in talk with the men on Jagger's wharf: for there was nothing better to
do, and the wreck of the _Jessie Dodd_ was food of the choicest for
water-side gossip. To him, by and by, came Jagger's clerk: begging that
the _Trap and Seine_ might be got under weigh for our harbour within the
hour, for Jagger lay near death (having been taken in the night) and
sorely needed the doctor, lest he die.

"Die!" cried Skipper Tommy, much distressed. "That's fair awful. Poor
man! So sick as that?"

"Ay," the clerk replied, with a sharp little look into Skipper Tommy's
mild eyes, "he'll die."

"Ecod!" the skipper declared. "'Twill make the doctor sad t' know it!"

Skipper Tommy remembers that the clerk turned away, as if, for some
strange reason, to get command of himself.

"That he will," said the clerk.

"'Tis awful!" the skipper repeated. "I'll get the schooner t' sea this
minute. She's wonderful low in the water," he mused, pulling at his
nose; "but I'm thinkin' the doctor would rather save a life than get a
cargo o' green fish t' harbour."

"Dying, tell him," the clerk urged, smoothing his mouth with a lean
hand. "Dying--and in terror of hell."

"Afeared o' hell?"

"Gone mad with fear of damnation."

Skipper Tommy raised his hands. "That's awful!" he muttered, with a sad
shake of the head. "Tell that poor man the doctor will come. Tell un,
oh, tell un," he added, wringing his hands, "_not_ t' be afeared o'
hell!"

"Yes, yes!" the clerk exclaimed, impatiently. "Don't forget the message.
Jagger lies sick, and dying, and begging for help."

Skipper Tommy made haste to the small boat, the while raising a cry for
Timmie, who had gone about his own pleasure, the Lord knew where! And
Timmie ran down the path, as fast as his sea-boots would go: but was
intercepted by Jonas Jutt, who drew him into the lower fish-stage, as
though in fear of observation, and there whispered the circumstances of
the departure of the _Trap and Seine_.

"But do you tell your father," he went on, "that Jagger's not sick."

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