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Updated: May 13, 2025
Anthony Woodward, sworn; Charles Harrison, sworn; Samuel George Glaze, sworn; William Farebrother, sworn; William Haynes, sworn; Thomas Crutch, sworn; Henry Swell, challenged; John Clarke, sworn; William Read, challenged; Harford Dobson, challenged; William Stone, challenged; William Hawkins, sworn; John Hayes, the elder, sworn; Samuel Badger, sworn; Samuel Bradley, sworn; William Brooks, challenged; Joseph Jagger, sworn.
Me an' Jagger says 'tis the chicken-pox. So the cook the skipper havin' the eyes he had says he'll sail t' the Labrador all right, but he'll see himself hanged for a mutineer afore he'll enter Poor Luck Harbour. 'Poor Luck Harbour, is it? says the skipper. 'An' is that where they've the the smallpox? says he. 'We'll lay a course for Poor Luck Harbour the morrow.
And when the wind went down, and the day dawned clear again, we put the dogs to my father's komatik and set out for Wayfarer's Tickle: whence Jagger had that morning fled, as Jonas Jutt told us. "Gone!" cried Tom Tot. "T' the s'uth'ard with the dogs. He's bound t' the Straits Shore t' get the last coastal boat t' Bay o' Islands." "Gone!" we repeated, blankly. "Ay but ten hours gone.
It seemed, then, to my sister and me, that the current of our life once more ran smooth. And Jagger of Wayfarer's Tickle the same who sat at cards with the mail-boat doctor and beat his dog with the butt of a whip having got news of my father's death, came presently to our harbour, with that in mind which jumped ill with our plans.
In mad haste alone ill provisioned fleein' in terror.... He sat on the hills sat there like an old crag in the rain an' wind waitin' for the doctor's sloop. 'There she is, Jutt! says he. 'No, says I. 'Thank God, Jagger, that's a schooner, reefed down an' runnin' for harbour! ... 'There she is! says he.
'I'll feed the dogs with me whip. 'Jagger, says I, 'don't you try it. They won't eat a whip. They can't live on it. 'Never you fear, says he. 'I'll feed them ugly brutes when they gets me t' Cape Charles Harbour. 'Jagger, says I, 'you better look out they don't feed theirselves afore they gets you there. You got a ugly leader, says I, 'in that red-eyed brute. 'Him? says he.
There we lay three days, with all anchors over the side, waiting in comfortable security for the gale to blow out; and 'twas at dusk of the third day that we were hailed from the coast rocks by that ill-starred young castaway of the name of Docks whose tale precipitated the final catastrophe in the life of Jagger of Wayfarer's Tickle.
He was there a wonderful long time; an' when he come aboard, he orders the anchor up an' all sail made. "'Where you goin'? says I. "'Tradin', says he. "'Is you? says I. "'Ay, says he. 'Jagger says 'tis a wonderful season for fish." Docks paused.
"Sick, is she?" said the doctor. "Fifteen, ten. I've got you, Jagger, sure ... 'Tis no fit night for a man to go ashore ... Fifteen, ten, did I say? and one for his nibs ... Go fetch her aboard, man ... And two for his heels " My father laid his hand over the doctor's cards. "Was you sayin'," he asked, "t' fetch her aboard?" "The doctor struck the hand away.
'Jagger's gone an' laid that word by an' forgot where he put it. 'But you, Skipper Jim, says I, 'you; what you doin' this here for? 'Well, Docks, says he, 'Jagger, says he, 'says 'tis a clever thing t' do, an' I'm thinkin', says he, 'that Jagger's near right. Anyhow, says he, 'Jagger's my owner."
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