HARBOR JIM

SIGNAL HILL, HARBOUR OF ST. JOHNS.

HARBOR JIM

OF NEWFOUNDLAND

By

A. EUGENE BARTLETT, D.D.

Author of "The Joy Maker," etc.

New York     Chicago

Fleming H. Revell Company

London and Edinburgh

Copyright, 1922, by
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY

To those Newfoundlanders who, in gathering

harvests from the sea for the world's hungry,

have garnered for themselves both faith and

courage, I dedicate this book.

Contents

I.  Jim and Bob
9

II.  The Conversion of Jim
20

III.  An Engagement As Planned
30

IV.  Some Miracles
40

V.  "I Asked for Fish"
49

VI.  Livin' Along
56

VII.  The Heaven Home
61

VIII.  Christmas with Jim's Friends
68

IX.  Honey-Mooning on the Flakes
80

X.  Jim and His Book
86

XI.  Railroading with the Kid
93

XII.  Through the Valley with the Little Fellow
100

XIII.  The Queer One
107

CHAPTER I

JIM AND BOB

Bob McCartney was spreading cod on the flakes and I was watching him and estimating the chances of better weather. The sun had not succeeded in rolling back the fog and St. John's was still half asleep in blankets of mist. Signal Hill was altogether hidden and the harbor entrance could not be seen. In the water-soaked atmosphere the flakes were merged together and the tiny houses of the fishers were almost joined into one long rambling house. The air was heavy with the smell of fish and the morning was not conducive to enthusiastic conversation.

Bob McCartney was a Newfoundlander born and bred and had left with his ancestors in Ireland the gift of blarney. This morning in particular he contented himself with monosyllabic answers, that occasionally did not come even to the estate words, but ended only in an effective grunt. Finally he condescended to speak a whole sentence with some little life in his voice.

"Yes, I guess she's agoin' to lift, fer there goes Harbor Jim."

I strained my eyes to see thru the fog and could just discern a sail boat headed toward what I supposed was the harbor entrance.

"And who is Harbor Jim?" I asked.

"Why, he's my friend and he can knock spalls off'n any Lander in the Dominion," replied Bob and then lapsed into silence as he went on slowly laying out his cod on the flakes.

Just then the sun made a gain and succeeded in piercing thru the fog and I saw, suddenly, a little boat some seventy-five yards out from the shore, and standing out near the bow stood a man as erect as the mast behind him, and looking straight out to sea.

"There's Harbor Jim!" and Bob pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the boat as he spoke the words.

It gave me a thrill, as the light brought him sharply to my attention, to see him standing there, intently looking toward the harbor entrance. I looked from the shore even as he looked from his boat and the sun at that moment uncovered the rocks on both sides. He lifted his hand and the helper behind him brought the sail to the faint breeze that was springing up, and the boat headed for the harbor entrance and the open sea.

The sun seemed to lift Bob's spirit and the sight of Harbor Jim to warm the cockles of his heart, for he began in a good-natured drawl to tell me of the finding of his friend.

"It was the third week in March, eleven years ago, come next spring, that we were sealing down North. Harbor Jim and I were then on Cap'en Boynton's ship. I didn't know Jim then more'n any other fellow. It was an odd kind of a trip. For days it hung nasty and we couldn't have seen a seal if he had been within shot of us.

"Then, one day, I think it was a Friday, but that doesn't matter, it come bright and sparkling and grew cold. By noon our ship was frozen in the