t anchor under Lost Craft Head in Right-an'-Tight Cove of the
Labrador.

"When a man lays hold on a little strand o' human wisdom," said Tumm,
breaking a heavy muse, "an' hangs his whole weight to it," he added,
with care, "he've no cause t' agitate hisself with surprise if the
rope snaps."

"What's _this_ preachin'?" the skipper demanded.

"That ain't no preachin'," said Tumm, resentfully "'tis a _fact_."

"Well," the skipper complained, "what you want t' go an' ask a hard
question like that for?"

"Sittin' here in the forecastle o' the ol' _Quick as Wink_, in this
here black gale from the nor'west," said Tumm, "along o' four
disgruntled dummies an' a capital P passenger in the doldrums, I been
thinkin' o' Small Sam Small o' Whoopin' Harbor. 'This here world,
accordin' as she's run,' says Small Sam Small, 'is no fit place for a
decent man t' dwell. The law o' life, as I was teached it,' says he,
'is _Have_; but as I sees the needs o' men, Tumm, it ought t' be
_Give_. T' _have_--t' _take_ an' t' _keep_--breaks a good man's heart
in the end. He lies awake in the night, Tumm--in the company of his
own heart--an' he isn't able t' forget jus' how he _got_. I'm no great
admirer o' the world, an' I isn't very fond o' life,' says he; 'but I
knows the law o' life, an' lives the best I can accordin' t' the rules
I've learned. I was cast out t' make my way as a wee small lad; an' I
was teached the law o' life by harsh masters--by nights' labor, an'
kicks, an' robbery, Tumm, by wind, an' cold, an' great big seas, by a
empty belly, an' the fear o' death in my small heart. So I'm a mean
man. I'm the meanest man in Newf'un'land. They says my twin sister
died o' starvation at the age o' two months along o' my greed. May be:
I don't know--but I hopes I never was born the mean man I is. Anyhow,'
says he, 'Small Sam Small--that's me--an' I stands by! I'm a damned
mean man, an' I isn't unaware; but they isn't a man on the St. John's
waterside--an' they isn't a big-bug o' Water Street--can say t' _me_,
"Do this, ye bay-noddie!" or, "Do that, ye bankrupt out-porter!" or,
"Sign this, ye coast's whelp!" Still an' all, Tumm,' says he, 'I don't
like myself very much, an' I isn't very fond o' the company o' the
soul my soul's become.'

"'Never you mind, Sam Small,' says I; 'we've all done dirty tricks in
our time.'

"'All?'

"'Never a mother's son in all the world past fourteen years,' says I,
'hasn't a ghost o' wicked conduct t' haun