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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/23181-0.txt b/23181-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..24f8398 --- /dev/null +++ b/23181-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,850 @@ +Project Gutenberg’s Thomas Jefferson Brown, By James Oliver Curwood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Thomas Jefferson Brown + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: October 24, 2007 [EBook #23181] +Last Updated: October 27, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOMAS JEFFERSON BROWN *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +THOMAS JEFFERSON BROWN + +By James Oliver Curwood + +Copyright, The Frank A. Munsey Co + + + + +I + +There are not many who will remember him as Thomas Jefferson Brown. For +ten years he had been mildly ashamed of himself, and out of respect for +people who were dead, and for a dozen or so who were living, he had the +good taste to drop his last name. The fact that it was only Brown didn’t +matter. + +“Tack Thomas Jefferson to Brown,” he said, “and you’ve got a name that +sticks!” + +It had an aristocratic sound; and Thomas Jefferson, with the Brown cut +off, was still aristocratic, when you came to count the red corpuscles +in him. In some sort of way he was related to two dead Presidents, three +dead army officers, a living college professor, and a few common people. +He was legitimately born to the purple, but fate had sent him off on a +curious ricochet in a game all of its own, and changed him from Thomas +Jefferson Brown into just plain Thomas Jefferson without the Brown. + +He was one of those specimens who, when you meet them, somehow make you +feel there are a few lost kings of the earth, as well as lost lambs. He +was what we called a “first-sighter”--that is, you liked him the instant +you looked at him. You knew without further acquaintance that he was a +man whom you could trust with your money, your friendship--anything you +had. He was big, with a wholesome brown face, blond hair, and gray +eyes that seemed always to be laughing and twinkling, even when he was +hungry. He carried about with him a load of cheerfulness so big that it +was constantly spilling over on other people. + +There was a time when Thomas Jefferson Brown had little white cards +with his name on them. That was when he went to college, and his lungs +weren’t so good. It was then that some big doctor told him that if he +wanted to live to have grandchildren, the best thing for him to do was +to “tramp it” for a time--live out of doors, sleep out of doors, do +nothing but breathe fresh air and walk. That doctor was Fate, playing +his game behind a pair of spectacles and a bumpy forehead. He saved +Thomas Jefferson Brown, all right; but he turned him into plain Thomas +Jefferson. + +For Thomas Jefferson Brown never got over taking his medicine. He kept +on tramping. He got big and broad and happy. Somewhere, perhaps in a +barn, he caught a microbe that made him dislike ordinary work. He would +set to and help a farmer saw wood all day, just for company and grub; +but you couldn’t hire him to go into an office, or settle down to +anything steady, for twenty-five dollars a day. He had a scientific name +for the thing that was in him--the _wanderlust_ bug, I think he called +it; and he said it was better than the Chinese lady-bugs that the +government imports to save California fruit. + +The nearest Thomas Jefferson ever came to going back to Thomas Jefferson +Brown was when he took a job at braking on the Southern Pacific. That +held him for three, days less than two weeks. + +“The _wanderlust_ bug wouldn’t stand for it,” he explained. + +Right after that he struck a farmer’s house where the farmer was sick, +almost dying, with three little kids and a frail little woman trying +to keep things up. He worked like ten men for more than a month on that +farm, and when he went away he wouldn’t take a cent. That’s the sort of +ne’er-do-well Thomas Jefferson was. + +He wouldn’t beg. He’d go three days without grub, and laugh all the +time. It was mostly in the country and in small villages that he made +his living. He could play seven different kinds of instruments without +any instruments at all. Did it all with his mouth. And the kids--they +went wild over him. In return for his entertainment, Thomas Jefferson +wasn’t ashamed to take whatever came to him in the way of odd nickels +and dimes. + +Once the manager of a vaudeville house heard him on a street corner, and +offered him a job at fifty a week if he’d sign a contract for a dozen +weeks. + +“Good Lord,” said Thomas Jefferson, “I wouldn’t know what to do with six +hundred dollars!” + +The next week he was cooking in a lumber-camp for his board. That’s +Thomas Jefferson--or, rather, that’s what he was. + +And now we’re coming to the girl who killed the bug in Thomas +Jefferson--and rescued the king. She was born swell. She has blue +eyes--the sort that can light up a dark day, and can make your head turn +dizzy when they smile at you. And she’s got the right sort of hair to +go with ‘em--red and gold and brown all mixed up, until you can’t tell +which is which; the sort that makes you wonder if some big artist hasn’t +been painting a picture for you, when you see it out in the sunshine. + +She comes of a titled family, but she’d want to die to-morrow if Thomas +Jefferson Brown didn’t worship her from the tips of her little toes to +the top of her pretty head. She thinks he’s a king. And he is--one of +those great, big, healthy kings that nature sometimes grows when it has +half a chance. + + + + +II + +It’s curious how the whole thing happened. Thomas Jefferson wandered up +to Portland at the time we were fitting out a ship for a whaling cruise. +We saw him imitating a banjo for a lot of kids down on the wharf, and +the minute our eyes lit on him--Tucker’s and mine--we liked him. It +isn’t necessary to go into the details of what happened after that. Just +a week later, when Thomas Jefferson and I were shaking hands for the +last time, a queer sort of look came into his eyes, and he said: + +“Bobby, you’re the first man I ever knew that makes me feel like crying +when you leave me.” + +He said it just like one of the kids he’d tickled half to death on the +wharf. There was a little jerking in his throat, and there came into his +face a look so gentle that it made me think of a girl. + +“Why don’t you come along on this cruise with me?” I said. + +Thomas Jefferson gave a sudden start, and a queer expression came into +his eyes, as if he saw something out on the sea that had startled him. +Then he laughed. You could hear that laugh of Thomas Jefferson’s three +blocks away, and sunshine in winter couldn’t bring more cheer than the +sound of it. He looked at me for a moment, and then said: + +“Bobby, I’ll go!” + +It wasn’t forty-eight hours before Thomas Jefferson had a first mortgage +on every soul aboard the “Sleeping Sealer,” from the cap’n to the oiler +down in the engine-room. He was able, all right, but you couldn’t have +made an able seaman out of him in a hundred years. For all that, he did +the work of three men. The first thing you heard when you woke up in the +morning was his whistle, and the last thing you heard at night was his +laugh or his song. He did everything, from cooking to telling us why +Germany couldn’t lick England, and how the United States could clean up +the map of the earth if Congress would spend less money on job-making +bureaus and a little more on war-ships. + +Then we discovered what was in the old alligator-skin valise he carried. +It was books. Half the time he didn’t have to read to us, but just +talked off the stuff he’d learned by heart. We got to know a lot before +the trip was half begun, just by associating with Thomas Jefferson +Brown--or Thomas Jefferson, as he was then. + +We spent three months up about the Spicer Islands, and then came down +toward Southampton Land. Thomas Jefferson was the happiest man aboard +until we caught sight of a coast, and then the change began. After that +he’d get restless whenever land hove in sight. + +Six weeks later we came down into Roes Welcome Sound, planning to get +out through Hudson Strait before winter set in. The fact that we were +almost homeward bound didn’t seem to affect Thomas Jefferson. I saw the +beginning of the end when he said to me one day: + +“Bobby, I’ve never seen this northern country. It’s a big, glorious +country, and I’d like to go ashore.” + +There wasn’t any use arguing with him. The cap’n tried it, we all tried +it, and at last Thomas Jefferson prepared to take his leave of us at +Point Fullerton, just eight hundred miles north of civilization, where +there’s an Eskimo village and a police station of the Royal Northwest +Mounted. He came to me the day before we were going to take him ashore, +and said: + +“Bobby, why don’t you come along? Let’s chum it, old man, and see what +happens.” + +When he went ashore, the next day, I went with him, and we each took +three months’ supply of grub and our pay. From that hour there began the +big change--the change which turned Thomas Jefferson back into Thomas +Jefferson Brown, and which it took a girl to finish. + +It came first in his eyes, and then in his laugh. After that he seemed +to grow an inch or two taller, and he lost that careless, shiftless way +which comes of what he called the _wanderlust_ bug. There wasn’t so +much laughter in his eyes, but something better had taken its place--a +deeper, grayer, more thoughtful look, and he didn’t play those queer +things with his mouth any more. + +The police at Point Fullerton hardly had a glimpse of him as the +big, sunny, loose-jointed giant, Thomas Jefferson. He had become a +bronze-bearded god, with the strength of five men in his splendid +shoulders, and a port to his head that made you think of a piece of +sculpture. + +“You can’t be anything but a _man_ up here, Bobby,” he said one day, and +I knew what he meant. “It’s not the air, it’s not the cold, and it’s not +the fight you make to keep life in your body,” he added, “but it’s +God! That’s what it is, Bobby. There’s not a sound or a sight up here, +outside of that little cabin, that’s human. It’s all God--there’s +nothing else--and it makes you think!” + + + + +III + +It was spring when we came down to Fort Churchill, and it was summer +when we struck York Factory. It was the middle of one of those summer +days when strawberries ripen even up there, that the last prop fell out +from under Thomas Jefferson, and he became Thomas Jefferson Brown. He +met Lady Isobel. The title did not really belong to her, for she was +only the cousin of Lord Meton; but Thomas Jefferson Brown called her +that from the first. + +It was down close to the boats, where their launch lay, and the wind had +frolicked with Lady Isobel’s hair until it rippled about her face +and shoulders like a net of spun gold. She was bareheaded, and he was +bareheaded, and they stared for a moment, her blue eyes flashing into +his gray ones; and then there came into her face a color like rose, and +he bowed, as one of the old-time Presidents might have bowed to a +hair-powdered beauty in the days when the Capitol was young. + +That was the beginning, and to his honor be it said that Thomas +Jefferson Brown never revealed that he was a gentleman born, though his +heart was stricken with love at that first sight of Lady Isobel’s lovely +face. Lord Meton wanted a man--one who could handle a canoe and shoulder +two hundred pounds of duff; and “Tom” became the man, working like a +slave for a month; but always with the pride and bearing of a king. + +It wasn’t difficult to see what was happening. Lord Meton saw, and +understood; but he knew that the proud blood in Lady Isobel was an +invulnerable armor that would protect her from indiscretion. And as for +Thomas Jefferson Brown-- + +“Bobby,” he said, standing up straight and tall, “if she can only love a +gentleman, and not a man, what’s the use of playing cards?” + +One day, when he had to carry Lady Isobel ashore from a big York boat, +something inside him got the best of his arms, and he held her tight--so +tight that her eyes came down to his with a frightened look, and he +heard a breath come from her that was almost a sob. They gazed at each +other for a moment, and it was then that Thomas Jefferson Brown told her +that he loved her--not in words, but in a way that she understood. + +When he set her down on shore she was as white as death. From that day +she treated him a little coolly--up to the last moment, out on the bay. + +It was a bright, sunshiny day when the three--Lord Meton, Lady Isobel, +and Thomas Jefferson Brown--set off in a big birchbark canoe, bound for +Harrison’s Island, a dozen miles out from the mainland. But you can’t +tell much about sunshine and calm on Hudson Bay. They’re like a jealous +woman’s smile, masking something hidden. Four miles out, the wind came +up; midway between the island and the mainland, it was a small gale. +Even at that, Thomas Jefferson Brown would have made it all right if the +beat of the sea hadn’t broken a rotten thread under the bow, letting the +birch seam part with a suddenness that sent a little spurt of water up +into Lady Isobel’s face. + +What? No, this isn’t going to have the regulation hero-act end, in +which Thomas Jefferson Brown saves the life of the lady he loves. It’s +something different--something that Thomas Jefferson Brown never guessed +at when the water spurted in, and Lady Isobel turned to him with a +little scream, her beautiful blue eyes wide and filled with horror. + +“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Here, take this jacket and hold it down +tight over the seam. We’ll reach the island, all right.” + +Lady Isobel held the jacket over the hole, and Thomas Jefferson Brown +put a strength into his paddle that threatened to crack off the handle. +After a minute or two, he saw a little trickle of water, beginning to +ooze in about the edges of the jacket. He leaned back for an instant, +and signaled Lord Meton to bend over toward him. + +“Take off your clothes,” he said, so low that Lady Isobel couldn’t hear. +“Can you swim?” + +“Not a stroke,” said Lord Meton, and his face went as white as chalk; +but it was no whiter than Thomas Jefferson Brown’s. + +When a birchbark seam begins to part there’s no power on earth that will +hold it when the canoe is heavily loaded. A few minutes later, the water +was gushing in by the quart about Lady Isobel’s feet. She fought hard +to hold it back. When at last she saw that it was hopeless, she turned +again, to see Lord Meton in his underwear, and Thomas Jefferson Brown +stripped of everything but his shirt and his buckskin trousers, which +don’t water-sog. He laughed straight into her face, as if it was all an +amusing joke; and then, suddenly, he began playing that banjo thing with +his mouth. + +It was all so strange, with the beat of the sea, the wail of the wind, +and Thomas Jefferson Brown sitting there as if nothing were happening, +that Lady Isobel just stared in astonishment, while the water gushed in +about her. At last he put down his paddle, and stretched out both hands; +and it seemed the most natural thing in the world that her two hands +should come out to meet his. + +“Listen,” he said, and his eyes were telling her again what they told +her on the day when he brought her in from the York boat. “You’ll do as +I tell you, won’t you? And you won’t be afraid?” + +For an instant Lady Isobel looked at Lord Meton, shrinking and shivering +in the stern of the canoe; and then she looked back to the other man’s +face, and blue fires seemed to leap into her eyes. + +“With _you_--no, I’m not afraid,” she said. + +She leaned toward him, nearer and nearer, as the water rose about them, +looking straight into his eyes. They both knew in that moment that it +was the man and the woman who had triumphed, and that for them the lady +and the gentleman were dead. + +“I’m not afraid--with you,” she said again. + +Her lips trembled, and her golden hair swept over his breast, and Thomas +Jefferson Brown bent down and kissed her once upon the mouth. Then he +said, as if he were speaking to a little girl: + +“Do not be afraid, and hold to the edge of the canoe when it fills. The +wind will carry us to Harrison’s Island.” + +He turned to Lord Meton, and repeated the words; and just then the +birchbark began to settle under them. With one hand gripping the side, +Thomas Jefferson Brown leaped over the sea. Lower and lower settled the +canoe with almost a scream, Lord Meton cried above the wind: + +“Good Lord, it won’t hold us up!” + +For a few moments Thomas Jefferson relieved the canoe of his weight, and +the bark rose again, slowly. Then, with a gasp, he clutched at the side +again, and into Lady Isobel’s drenched face, half hid the wet veil of +her shining hair. + +“The canoe won’t hold us all up,” he said trying to smile. “But it will +hold two--you two and the wind is taking it to the island, four miles to +the island, and I may be make it.” + +He knew that he never could make it; no man could swim so far in the +chill waters of Hudson Bay; but he spoke as if his words were “I’m going +to let go and try. Isobel, my love, will you kiss me?” + +She threw one arm about his neck. Meton, clutching with frantic terror +to the canoe saw nothing of what happened, nor did he hear the sobbing +cry of Lady Isobel’s heart as she kissed Thomas Jefferson Brown, once, +and then three times, before he dropped back into the sea again. + +“Good-by, sweetheart!” he said. + +In the eyes that looked up at her, in his eyes in the one last look of +love that he said, “Good-by.” Lady Isobel saw the truth, and stretched +out her arm to him. + +“Stop! Come back! Take me with you!” she cried. “I want to go with you!” + +And there, in the wildness of that sea, four miles from shore, Thomas +Jefferson Brown seemed to heave himself up out of the water, as if the +strength of a thousand swimmers had suddenly come to him. He let out a +cry of triumph, of love, of joy; and he came back and gripped the canoe +again, his gray eyes flashing, his face glowing with a strange flush. + +“You want to go with me?” he said. “Come!” + +He held up his arms, and with a cry that wasn’t fear Lady Isobel went +into them, while Thomas Jefferson Brown called to Lord Meton: + +“Stick to the canoe! It will take you to the island!” + + + + +IV + +The shore was a low, dark streak, four miles away--an appalling distance +away; but as she clung lightly to his shoulders, as Thomas Jefferson +Brown told her to do, the horror and the fear of the big sea went out +of Lady Isobel’s brave little heart. She put her face down against his +neck, pulled back his wet hair, and kissed him. God bless all such true +hearts, wherever they be! + +“We’ll make it, Tom--we’ll make it!” she told him a hundred times. + +He felt the warm caresses of her lips, the thrilling love of her voice, +and he knew that she was ready to die with him. + +He swam in a strange way--a wonderfully strange way--did Thomas +Jefferson Brown. He stood almost erect in the water, his head and +shoulders clear; and now and then he stopped to rest, and it seemed no +test for him at all to float with the weight of the woman he loved, his +face turned up to her in those moments, her glorious blue eyes devouring +him, her sweet lips kissing him--still kissing him. + +He was doing a thing that she knew no other man in the world could do. +She kept telling him so, while the land drew nearer and nearer, until at +last she cried out in joy that she could see the little bushes along the +shore. + +“Another mile, Tom!” she said. “Only another mile, and then--” + +“And then--” he said. + +“And then--life!” she cried. “Life for you and me!” + +He went on, seeming to grow stronger as the shore drew nearer. It was +wonderful; but at last, when they came to the beach, he dropped down +like a dead man. Lady Isobel caught his head to her dripping breast, and +rocked him back and forth, sobbing a paean of love and pride, while far +out she saw the canoe and Lord Meton drifting shoreward. + +A few minutes later, Thomas Jefferson Brown went out into the sea again, +until he was not much more than a speck, and brought in the canoe and +Lord Meton, while Lady Isobel stood to her knees in the water, praising +her God that from riches and splendor she had come out into a wilderness +to find such a man as this. + +After that, at York Factory, there was nothing left for Thomas Jefferson +Brown to do but to reveal himself, and when Lord Meton discovered that +there ran as good blood through his rescuer’s veins as through his +own, he gripped hands with the man who had saved him, and gave his +congratulations cm the spot. But it made no difference to Isobel. If +anything, she was a little disappointed. + +Thomas Jefferson Brown arranged to go back with them on their yacht. The +wedding would take place in London, a quiet affair. One day Isobel and +her lover came along hand in hand, and Thomas Jefferson Brown said to +me: + +“Bobby, you’re going to be best man.” + +“Not best man,” Lady Isobel added, “but second best, Bobby. There’s only +one best man in the world!” + +But I haven’t been able to come to the point of this story yet--the +remarkable part of it. Two weeks later, when we were up the river +and our canoe struck a snag, I discovered that Thomas Jefferson Brown +“couldn’t swim a stroke!” + +“Good Lord!” I said, but waited. + +Back at the post, Thomas Jefferson Brown took me into his little room, +and said: + +“Bobby, you’ve found that I can’t swim, and I’m going to trust you with +a great secret. Love can accomplish miracles; and love did--out there. +For when I let go of the canoe, Bobby, I knew that I was going straight +down to my death. But a wonderful thing happened.” He brought a little +map from a drawer. “Look at this map, Bobby. See all those little marks +off Harrison’s Island--figures--twos and threes and fives, and +nothing above sixes? That’s the depth of water for five miles out from +Harrison’s Island, at low tide; and it was low tide when I jumped from +the canoe. That’s all, Bobby. _I waded ashore_. But what would be the +good of saying anything about it when it brought me love like hers?” + +Yes, what would be the use? For Thomas Jefferson Brown stepped out +deliberately to go to his death, and found life. He’s a hero and a man, +is Thomas Jefferson Brown, even if fate did step in to make heroism a +little easy for him at the time! + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Thomas Jefferson Brown, By James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOMAS JEFFERSON BROWN *** + +***** This file should be named 23181-0.txt or 23181-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/1/8/23181/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Thomas Jefferson Brown + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: October 24, 2007 [EBook #23181] +Last Updated: October 27, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOMAS JEFFERSON BROWN *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THOMAS JEFFERSON BROWN + </h1> + <h2> + BY James Oliver Curwood <br /> <br /> <br /> Copyright, The Frank A. Munsey + Co + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + There are not many who will remember him as Thomas Jefferson Brown. For + ten years he had been mildly ashamed of himself, and out of respect for + people who were dead, and for a dozen or so who were living, he had the + good taste to drop his last name. The fact that it was only Brown didn’t + matter. + </p> + <p> + “Tack Thomas Jefferson to Brown,” he said, “and you’ve got a name that + sticks!” + </p> + <p> + It had an aristocratic sound; and Thomas Jefferson, with the Brown cut + off, was still aristocratic, when you came to count the red corpuscles in + him. In some sort of way he was related to two dead Presidents, three dead + army officers, a living college professor, and a few common people. He was + legitimately born to the purple, but fate had sent him off on a curious + ricochet in a game all of its own, and changed him from Thomas Jefferson + Brown into just plain Thomas Jefferson without the Brown. + </p> + <p> + He was one of those specimens who, when you meet them, somehow make you + feel there are a few lost kings of the earth, as well as lost lambs. He + was what we called a “first-sighter”—that is, you liked him the + instant you looked at him. You knew without further acquaintance that he + was a man whom you could trust with your money, your friendship—anything + you had. He was big, with a wholesome brown face, blond hair, and gray + eyes that seemed always to be laughing and twinkling, even when he was + hungry. He carried about with him a load of cheerfulness so big that it + was constantly spilling over on other people. + </p> + <p> + There was a time when Thomas Jefferson Brown had little white cards with + his name on them. That was when he went to college, and his lungs weren’t + so good. It was then that some big doctor told him that if he wanted to + live to have grandchildren, the best thing for him to do was to “tramp it” + for a time—live out of doors, sleep out of doors, do nothing but + breathe fresh air and walk. That doctor was Fate, playing his game behind + a pair of spectacles and a bumpy forehead. He saved Thomas Jefferson + Brown, all right; but he turned him into plain Thomas Jefferson. + </p> + <p> + For Thomas Jefferson Brown never got over taking his medicine. He kept on + tramping. He got big and broad and happy. Somewhere, perhaps in a barn, he + caught a microbe that made him dislike ordinary work. He would set to and + help a farmer saw wood all day, just for company and grub; but you + couldn’t hire him to go into an office, or settle down to anything steady, + for twenty-five dollars a day. He had a scientific name for the thing that + was in him—the <i>wanderlust</i> bug, I think he called it; and he + said it was better than the Chinese lady-bugs that the government imports + to save California fruit. + </p> + <p> + The nearest Thomas Jefferson ever came to going back to Thomas Jefferson + Brown was when he took a job at braking on the Southern Pacific. That held + him for three, days less than two weeks. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>wanderlust</i> bug wouldn’t stand for it,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + Right after that he struck a farmer’s house where the farmer was sick, + almost dying, with three little kids and a frail little woman trying to + keep things up. He worked like ten men for more than a month on that farm, + and when he went away he wouldn’t take a cent. That’s the sort of + ne’er-do-well Thomas Jefferson was. + </p> + <p> + He wouldn’t beg. He’d go three days without grub, and laugh all the time. + It was mostly in the country and in small villages that he made his + living. He could play seven different kinds of instruments without any + instruments at all. Did it all with his mouth. And the kids—they + went wild over him. In return for his entertainment, Thomas Jefferson + wasn’t ashamed to take whatever came to him in the way of odd nickels and + dimes. + </p> + <p> + Once the manager of a vaudeville house heard him on a street corner, and + offered him a job at fifty a week if he’d sign a contract for a dozen + weeks. + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord,” said Thomas Jefferson, “I wouldn’t know what to do with six + hundred dollars!” + </p> + <p> + The next week he was cooking in a lumber-camp for his board. That’s Thomas + Jefferson—or, rather, that’s what he was. + </p> + <p> + And now we’re coming to the girl who killed the bug in Thomas Jefferson—and + rescued the king. She was born swell. She has blue eyes—the sort + that can light up a dark day, and can make your head turn dizzy when they + smile at you. And she’s got the right sort of hair to go with ‘em—red + and gold and brown all mixed up, until you can’t tell which is which; the + sort that makes you wonder if some big artist hasn’t been painting a + picture for you, when you see it out in the sunshine. + </p> + <p> + She comes of a titled family, but she’d want to die to-morrow if Thomas + Jefferson Brown didn’t worship her from the tips of her little toes to the + top of her pretty head. She thinks he’s a king. And he is—one of + those great, big, healthy kings that nature sometimes grows when it has + half a chance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + It’s curious how the whole thing happened. Thomas Jefferson wandered up to + Portland at the time we were fitting out a ship for a whaling cruise. We + saw him imitating a banjo for a lot of kids down on the wharf, and the + minute our eyes lit on him—Tucker’s and mine—we liked him. It + isn’t necessary to go into the details of what happened after that. Just a + week later, when Thomas Jefferson and I were shaking hands for the last + time, a queer sort of look came into his eyes, and he said: + </p> + <p> + “Bobby, you’re the first man I ever knew that makes me feel like crying + when you leave me.” + </p> + <p> + He said it just like one of the kids he’d tickled half to death on the + wharf. There was a little jerking in his throat, and there came into his + face a look so gentle that it made me think of a girl. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you come along on this cruise with me?” I said. + </p> + <p> + Thomas Jefferson gave a sudden start, and a queer expression came into his + eyes, as if he saw something out on the sea that had startled him. Then he + laughed. You could hear that laugh of Thomas Jefferson’s three blocks + away, and sunshine in winter couldn’t bring more cheer than the sound of + it. He looked at me for a moment, and then said: + </p> + <p> + “Bobby, I’ll go!” + </p> + <p> + It wasn’t forty-eight hours before Thomas Jefferson had a first mortgage + on every soul aboard the “Sleeping Sealer,” from the cap’n to the oiler + down in the engine-room. He was able, all right, but you couldn’t have + made an able seaman out of him in a hundred years. For all that, he did + the work of three men. The first thing you heard when you woke up in the + morning was his whistle, and the last thing you heard at night was his + laugh or his song. He did everything, from cooking to telling us why + Germany couldn’t lick England, and how the United States could clean up + the map of the earth if Congress would spend less money on job-making + bureaus and a little more on war-ships. + </p> + <p> + Then we discovered what was in the old alligator-skin valise he carried. + It was books. Half the time he didn’t have to read to us, but just talked + off the stuff he’d learned by heart. We got to know a lot before the trip + was half begun, just by associating with Thomas Jefferson Brown—or + Thomas Jefferson, as he was then. + </p> + <p> + We spent three months up about the Spicer Islands, and then came down + toward Southampton Land. Thomas Jefferson was the happiest man aboard + until we caught sight of a coast, and then the change began. After that + he’d get restless whenever land hove in sight. + </p> + <p> + Six weeks later we came down into Roes Welcome Sound, planning to get out + through Hudson Strait before winter set in. The fact that we were almost + homeward bound didn’t seem to affect Thomas Jefferson. I saw the beginning + of the end when he said to me one day: + </p> + <p> + “Bobby, I’ve never seen this northern country. It’s a big, glorious + country, and I’d like to go ashore.” + </p> + <p> + There wasn’t any use arguing with him. The cap’n tried it, we all tried + it, and at last Thomas Jefferson prepared to take his leave of us at Point + Fullerton, just eight hundred miles north of civilization, where there’s + an Eskimo village and a police station of the Royal Northwest Mounted. He + came to me the day before we were going to take him ashore, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Bobby, why don’t you come along? Let’s chum it, old man, and see what + happens.” + </p> + <p> + When he went ashore, the next day, I went with him, and we each took three + months’ supply of grub and our pay. From that hour there began the big + change—the change which turned Thomas Jefferson back into Thomas + Jefferson Brown, and which it took a girl to finish. + </p> + <p> + It came first in his eyes, and then in his laugh. After that he seemed to + grow an inch or two taller, and he lost that careless, shiftless way which + comes of what he called the <i>wanderlust</i> bug. There wasn’t so much + laughter in his eyes, but something better had taken its place—a + deeper, grayer, more thoughtful look, and he didn’t play those queer + things with his mouth any more. + </p> + <p> + The police at Point Fullerton hardly had a glimpse of him as the big, + sunny, loose-jointed giant, Thomas Jefferson. He had become a + bronze-bearded god, with the strength of five men in his splendid + shoulders, and a port to his head that made you think of a piece of + sculpture. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t be anything but a <i>man</i> up here, Bobby,” he said one day, + and I knew what he meant. “It’s not the air, it’s not the cold, and it’s + not the fight you make to keep life in your body,” he added, “but it’s + God! That’s what it is, Bobby. There’s not a sound or a sight up here, + outside of that little cabin, that’s human. It’s all God—there’s + nothing else—and it makes you think!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + It was spring when we came down to Fort Churchill, and it was summer when + we struck York Factory. It was the middle of one of those summer days when + strawberries ripen even up there, that the last prop fell out from under + Thomas Jefferson, and he became Thomas Jefferson Brown. He met Lady + Isobel. The title did not really belong to her, for she was only the + cousin of Lord Meton; but Thomas Jefferson Brown called her that from the + first. + </p> + <p> + It was down close to the boats, where their launch lay, and the wind had + frolicked with Lady Isobel’s hair until it rippled about her face and + shoulders like a net of spun gold. She was bareheaded, and he was + bareheaded, and they stared for a moment, her blue eyes flashing into his + gray ones; and then there came into her face a color like rose, and he + bowed, as one of the old-time Presidents might have bowed to a + hair-powdered beauty in the days when the Capitol was young. + </p> + <p> + That was the beginning, and to his honor be it said that Thomas Jefferson + Brown never revealed that he was a gentleman born, though his heart was + stricken with love at that first sight of Lady Isobel’s lovely face. Lord + Meton wanted a man—one who could handle a canoe and shoulder two + hundred pounds of duff; and “Tom” became the man, working like a slave for + a month; but always with the pride and bearing of a king. + </p> + <p> + It wasn’t difficult to see what was happening. Lord Meton saw, and + understood; but he knew that the proud blood in Lady Isobel was an + invulnerable armor that would protect her from indiscretion. And as for + Thomas Jefferson Brown— + </p> + <p> + “Bobby,” he said, standing up straight and tall, “if she can only love a + gentleman, and not a man, what’s the use of playing cards?” + </p> + <p> + One day, when he had to carry Lady Isobel ashore from a big York boat, + something inside him got the best of his arms, and he held her tight—so + tight that her eyes came down to his with a frightened look, and he heard + a breath come from her that was almost a sob. They gazed at each other for + a moment, and it was then that Thomas Jefferson Brown told her that he + loved her—not in words, but in a way that she understood. + </p> + <p> + When he set her down on shore she was as white as death. From that day she + treated him a little coolly—up to the last moment, out on the bay. + </p> + <p> + It was a bright, sunshiny day when the three—Lord Meton, Lady + Isobel, and Thomas Jefferson Brown—set off in a big birchbark canoe, + bound for Harrison’s Island, a dozen miles out from the mainland. But you + can’t tell much about sunshine and calm on Hudson Bay. They’re like a + jealous woman’s smile, masking something hidden. Four miles out, the wind + came up; midway between the island and the mainland, it was a small gale. + Even at that, Thomas Jefferson Brown would have made it all right if the + beat of the sea hadn’t broken a rotten thread under the bow, letting the + birch seam part with a suddenness that sent a little spurt of water up + into Lady Isobel’s face. + </p> + <p> + What? No, this isn’t going to have the regulation hero-act end, in which + Thomas Jefferson Brown saves the life of the lady he loves. It’s something + different—something that Thomas Jefferson Brown never guessed at + when the water spurted in, and Lady Isobel turned to him with a little + scream, her beautiful blue eyes wide and filled with horror. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Here, take this jacket and hold it down tight + over the seam. We’ll reach the island, all right.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Isobel held the jacket over the hole, and Thomas Jefferson Brown put + a strength into his paddle that threatened to crack off the handle. After + a minute or two, he saw a little trickle of water, beginning to ooze in + about the edges of the jacket. He leaned back for an instant, and signaled + Lord Meton to bend over toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Take off your clothes,” he said, so low that Lady Isobel couldn’t hear. + “Can you swim?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a stroke,” said Lord Meton, and his face went as white as chalk; but + it was no whiter than Thomas Jefferson Brown’s. + </p> + <p> + When a birchbark seam begins to part there’s no power on earth that will + hold it when the canoe is heavily loaded. A few minutes later, the water + was gushing in by the quart about Lady Isobel’s feet. She fought hard to + hold it back. When at last she saw that it was hopeless, she turned again, + to see Lord Meton in his underwear, and Thomas Jefferson Brown stripped of + everything but his shirt and his buckskin trousers, which don’t water-sog. + He laughed straight into her face, as if it was all an amusing joke; and + then, suddenly, he began playing that banjo thing with his mouth. + </p> + <p> + It was all so strange, with the beat of the sea, the wail of the wind, and + Thomas Jefferson Brown sitting there as if nothing were happening, that + Lady Isobel just stared in astonishment, while the water gushed in about + her. At last he put down his paddle, and stretched out both hands; and it + seemed the most natural thing in the world that her two hands should come + out to meet his. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said, and his eyes were telling her again what they told her + on the day when he brought her in from the York boat. “You’ll do as I tell + you, won’t you? And you won’t be afraid?” + </p> + <p> + For an instant Lady Isobel looked at Lord Meton, shrinking and shivering + in the stern of the canoe; and then she looked back to the other man’s + face, and blue fires seemed to leap into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “With <i>you</i>—no, I’m not afraid,” she said. + </p> + <p> + She leaned toward him, nearer and nearer, as the water rose about them, + looking straight into his eyes. They both knew in that moment that it was + the man and the woman who had triumphed, and that for them the lady and + the gentleman were dead. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not afraid—with you,” she said again. + </p> + <p> + Her lips trembled, and her golden hair swept over his breast, and Thomas + Jefferson Brown bent down and kissed her once upon the mouth. Then he + said, as if he were speaking to a little girl: + </p> + <p> + “Do not be afraid, and hold to the edge of the canoe when it fills. The + wind will carry us to Harrison’s Island.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to Lord Meton, and repeated the words; and just then the + birchbark began to settle under them. With one hand gripping the side, + Thomas Jefferson Brown leaped over the sea. Lower and lower settled the + canoe with almost a scream, Lord Meton cried above the wind: + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord, it won’t hold us up!” + </p> + <p> + For a few moments Thomas Jefferson relieved the canoe of his weight, and + the bark rose again, slowly. Then, with a gasp, he clutched at the side + again, and into Lady Isobel’s drenched face, half hid the wet veil of her + shining hair. + </p> + <p> + “The canoe won’t hold us all up,” he said trying to smile. “But it will + hold two—you two and the wind is taking it to the island, four miles + to the island, and I may be make it.” + </p> + <p> + He knew that he never could make it; no man could swim so far in the chill + waters of Hudson Bay; but he spoke as if his words were “I’m going to let + go and try. Isobel, my love, will you kiss me?” + </p> + <p> + She threw one arm about his neck. Meton, clutching with frantic terror to + the canoe saw nothing of what happened, nor did he hear the sobbing cry of + Lady Isobel’s heart as she kissed Thomas Jefferson Brown, once, and then + three times, before he dropped back into the sea again. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, sweetheart!” he said. + </p> + <p> + In the eyes that looked up at her, in his eyes in the one last look of + love that he said, “Good-by.” Lady Isobel saw the truth, and stretched out + her arm to him. + </p> + <p> + “Stop! Come back! Take me with you!” she cried. “I want to go with you!” + </p> + <p> + And there, in the wildness of that sea, four miles from shore, Thomas + Jefferson Brown seemed to heave himself up out of the water, as if the + strength of a thousand swimmers had suddenly come to him. He let out a cry + of triumph, of love, of joy; and he came back and gripped the canoe again, + his gray eyes flashing, his face glowing with a strange flush. + </p> + <p> + “You want to go with me?” he said. “Come!” + </p> + <p> + He held up his arms, and with a cry that wasn’t fear Lady Isobel went into + them, while Thomas Jefferson Brown called to Lord Meton: + </p> + <p> + “Stick to the canoe! It will take you to the island!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + The shore was a low, dark streak, four miles away—an appalling + distance away; but as she clung lightly to his shoulders, as Thomas + Jefferson Brown told her to do, the horror and the fear of the big sea + went out of Lady Isobel’s brave little heart. She put her face down + against his neck, pulled back his wet hair, and kissed him. God bless all + such true hearts, wherever they be! + </p> + <p> + “We’ll make it, Tom—we’ll make it!” she told him a hundred times. + </p> + <p> + He felt the warm caresses of her lips, the thrilling love of her voice, + and he knew that she was ready to die with him. + </p> + <p> + He swam in a strange way—a wonderfully strange way—did Thomas + Jefferson Brown. He stood almost erect in the water, his head and + shoulders clear; and now and then he stopped to rest, and it seemed no + test for him at all to float with the weight of the woman he loved, his + face turned up to her in those moments, her glorious blue eyes devouring + him, her sweet lips kissing him—still kissing him. + </p> + <p> + He was doing a thing that she knew no other man in the world could do. She + kept telling him so, while the land drew nearer and nearer, until at last + she cried out in joy that she could see the little bushes along the shore. + </p> + <p> + “Another mile, Tom!” she said. “Only another mile, and then—” + </p> + <p> + “And then—” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And then—life!” she cried. “Life for you and me!” + </p> + <p> + He went on, seeming to grow stronger as the shore drew nearer. It was + wonderful; but at last, when they came to the beach, he dropped down like + a dead man. Lady Isobel caught his head to her dripping breast, and rocked + him back and forth, sobbing a paean of love and pride, while far out she + saw the canoe and Lord Meton drifting shoreward. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later, Thomas Jefferson Brown went out into the sea again, + until he was not much more than a speck, and brought in the canoe and Lord + Meton, while Lady Isobel stood to her knees in the water, praising her God + that from riches and splendor she had come out into a wilderness to find + such a man as this. + </p> + <p> + After that, at York Factory, there was nothing left for Thomas Jefferson + Brown to do but to reveal himself, and when Lord Meton discovered that + there ran as good blood through his rescuer’s veins as through his own, he + gripped hands with the man who had saved him, and gave his congratulations + cm the spot. But it made no difference to Isobel. If anything, she was a + little disappointed. + </p> + <p> + Thomas Jefferson Brown arranged to go back with them on their yacht. The + wedding would take place in London, a quiet affair. One day Isobel and her + lover came along hand in hand, and Thomas Jefferson Brown said to me: + </p> + <p> + “Bobby, you’re going to be best man.” + </p> + <p> + “Not best man,” Lady Isobel added, “but second best, Bobby. There’s only + one best man in the world!” + </p> + <p> + But I haven’t been able to come to the point of this story yet—the + remarkable part of it. Two weeks later, when we were up the river and our + canoe struck a snag, I discovered that Thomas Jefferson Brown “couldn’t + swim a stroke!” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord!” I said, but waited. + </p> + <p> + Back at the post, Thomas Jefferson Brown took me into his little room, and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Bobby, you’ve found that I can’t swim, and I’m going to trust you with a + great secret. Love can accomplish miracles; and love did—out there. + For when I let go of the canoe, Bobby, I knew that I was going straight + down to my death. But a wonderful thing happened.” He brought a little map + from a drawer. “Look at this map, Bobby. See all those little marks off + Harrison’s Island—figures—twos and threes and fives, and + nothing above sixes? That’s the depth of water for five miles out from + Harrison’s Island, at low tide; and it was low tide when I jumped from the + canoe. That’s all, Bobby. <i>I waded ashore</i>. But what would be the + good of saying anything about it when it brought me love like hers?” + </p> + <p> + Yes, what would be the use? For Thomas Jefferson Brown stepped out + deliberately to go to his death, and found life. He’s a hero and a man, is + Thomas Jefferson Brown, even if fate did step in to make heroism a little + easy for him at the time! + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Thomas Jefferson Brown, By James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOMAS JEFFERSON BROWN *** + +***** This file should be named 23181-h.htm or 23181-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/1/8/23181/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Thomas Jefferson Brown + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: October 24, 2007 [EBook #23181] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOMAS JEFFERSON BROWN *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +THOMAS JEFFERSON BROWN + +By James Oliver Curwood + +Copyright, The Frank A. Munsey Co + + + + +I + +There are not many who will remember him as Thomas Jefferson Brown. For +ten years he had been mildly ashamed of himself, and out of respect for +people who were dead, and for a dozen or so who were living, he had the +good taste to drop his last name. The fact that it was only Brown didn't +matter. + +"Tack Thomas Jefferson to Brown," he said, "and you've got a name that +sticks!" + +It had an aristocratic sound; and Thomas Jefferson, with the Brown cut +off, was still aristocratic, when you came to count the red corpuscles +in him. In some sort of way he was related to two dead Presidents, three +dead army officers, a living college professor, and a few common people. +He was legitimately born to the purple, but fate had sent him off on a +curious ricochet in a game all of its own, and changed him from Thomas +Jefferson Brown into just plain Thomas Jefferson without the Brown. + +He was one of those specimens who, when you meet them, somehow make you +feel there are a few lost kings of the earth, as well as lost lambs. He +was what we called a "first-sighter"--that is, you liked him the instant +you looked at him. You knew without further acquaintance that he was a +man whom you could trust with your money, your friendship--anything you +had. He was big, with a wholesome brown face, blond hair, and gray +eyes that seemed always to be laughing and twinkling, even when he was +hungry. He carried about with him a load of cheerfulness so big that it +was constantly spilling over on other people. + +There was a time when Thomas Jefferson Brown had little white cards +with his name on them. That was when he went to college, and his lungs +weren't so good. It was then that some big doctor told him that if he +wanted to live to have grandchildren, the best thing for him to do was +to "tramp it" for a time--live out of doors, sleep out of doors, do +nothing but breathe fresh air and walk. That doctor was Fate, playing +his game behind a pair of spectacles and a bumpy forehead. He saved +Thomas Jefferson Brown, all right; but he turned him into plain Thomas +Jefferson. + +For Thomas Jefferson Brown never got over taking his medicine. He kept +on tramping. He got big and broad and happy. Somewhere, perhaps in a +barn, he caught a microbe that made him dislike ordinary work. He would +set to and help a farmer saw wood all day, just for company and grub; +but you couldn't hire him to go into an office, or settle down to +anything steady, for twenty-five dollars a day. He had a scientific name +for the thing that was in him--the _wanderlust_ bug, I think he called +it; and he said it was better than the Chinese lady-bugs that the +government imports to save California fruit. + +The nearest Thomas Jefferson ever came to going back to Thomas Jefferson +Brown was when he took a job at braking on the Southern Pacific. That +held him for three, days less than two weeks. + +"The _wanderlust_ bug wouldn't stand for it," he explained. + +Right after that he struck a farmer's house where the farmer was sick, +almost dying, with three little kids and a frail little woman trying +to keep things up. He worked like ten men for more than a month on that +farm, and when he went away he wouldn't take a cent. That's the sort of +ne'er-do-well Thomas Jefferson was. + +He wouldn't beg. He'd go three days without grub, and laugh all the +time. It was mostly in the country and in small villages that he made +his living. He could play seven different kinds of instruments without +any instruments at all. Did it all with his mouth. And the kids--they +went wild over him. In return for his entertainment, Thomas Jefferson +wasn't ashamed to take whatever came to him in the way of odd nickels +and dimes. + +Once the manager of a vaudeville house heard him on a street corner, and +offered him a job at fifty a week if he'd sign a contract for a dozen +weeks. + +"Good Lord," said Thomas Jefferson, "I wouldn't know what to do with six +hundred dollars!" + +The next week he was cooking in a lumber-camp for his board. That's +Thomas Jefferson--or, rather, that's what he was. + +And now we're coming to the girl who killed the bug in Thomas +Jefferson--and rescued the king. She was born swell. She has blue +eyes--the sort that can light up a dark day, and can make your head turn +dizzy when they smile at you. And she's got the right sort of hair to +go with 'em--red and gold and brown all mixed up, until you can't tell +which is which; the sort that makes you wonder if some big artist hasn't +been painting a picture for you, when you see it out in the sunshine. + +She comes of a titled family, but she'd want to die to-morrow if Thomas +Jefferson Brown didn't worship her from the tips of her little toes to +the top of her pretty head. She thinks he's a king. And he is--one of +those great, big, healthy kings that nature sometimes grows when it has +half a chance. + + + + +II + +It's curious how the whole thing happened. Thomas Jefferson wandered up +to Portland at the time we were fitting out a ship for a whaling cruise. +We saw him imitating a banjo for a lot of kids down on the wharf, and +the minute our eyes lit on him--Tucker's and mine--we liked him. It +isn't necessary to go into the details of what happened after that. Just +a week later, when Thomas Jefferson and I were shaking hands for the +last time, a queer sort of look came into his eyes, and he said: + +"Bobby, you're the first man I ever knew that makes me feel like crying +when you leave me." + +He said it just like one of the kids he'd tickled half to death on the +wharf. There was a little jerking in his throat, and there came into his +face a look so gentle that it made me think of a girl. + +"Why don't you come along on this cruise with me?" I said. + +Thomas Jefferson gave a sudden start, and a queer expression came into +his eyes, as if he saw something out on the sea that had startled him. +Then he laughed. You could hear that laugh of Thomas Jefferson's three +blocks away, and sunshine in winter couldn't bring more cheer than the +sound of it. He looked at me for a moment, and then said: + +"Bobby, I'll go!" + +It wasn't forty-eight hours before Thomas Jefferson had a first mortgage +on every soul aboard the "Sleeping Sealer," from the cap'n to the oiler +down in the engine-room. He was able, all right, but you couldn't have +made an able seaman out of him in a hundred years. For all that, he did +the work of three men. The first thing you heard when you woke up in the +morning was his whistle, and the last thing you heard at night was his +laugh or his song. He did everything, from cooking to telling us why +Germany couldn't lick England, and how the United States could clean up +the map of the earth if Congress would spend less money on job-making +bureaus and a little more on war-ships. + +Then we discovered what was in the old alligator-skin valise he carried. +It was books. Half the time he didn't have to read to us, but just +talked off the stuff he'd learned by heart. We got to know a lot before +the trip was half begun, just by associating with Thomas Jefferson +Brown--or Thomas Jefferson, as he was then. + +We spent three months up about the Spicer Islands, and then came down +toward Southampton Land. Thomas Jefferson was the happiest man aboard +until we caught sight of a coast, and then the change began. After that +he'd get restless whenever land hove in sight. + +Six weeks later we came down into Roes Welcome Sound, planning to get +out through Hudson Strait before winter set in. The fact that we were +almost homeward bound didn't seem to affect Thomas Jefferson. I saw the +beginning of the end when he said to me one day: + +"Bobby, I've never seen this northern country. It's a big, glorious +country, and I'd like to go ashore." + +There wasn't any use arguing with him. The cap'n tried it, we all tried +it, and at last Thomas Jefferson prepared to take his leave of us at +Point Fullerton, just eight hundred miles north of civilization, where +there's an Eskimo village and a police station of the Royal Northwest +Mounted. He came to me the day before we were going to take him ashore, +and said: + +"Bobby, why don't you come along? Let's chum it, old man, and see what +happens." + +When he went ashore, the next day, I went with him, and we each took +three months' supply of grub and our pay. From that hour there began the +big change--the change which turned Thomas Jefferson back into Thomas +Jefferson Brown, and which it took a girl to finish. + +It came first in his eyes, and then in his laugh. After that he seemed +to grow an inch or two taller, and he lost that careless, shiftless way +which comes of what he called the _wanderlust_ bug. There wasn't so +much laughter in his eyes, but something better had taken its place--a +deeper, grayer, more thoughtful look, and he didn't play those queer +things with his mouth any more. + +The police at Point Fullerton hardly had a glimpse of him as the +big, sunny, loose-jointed giant, Thomas Jefferson. He had become a +bronze-bearded god, with the strength of five men in his splendid +shoulders, and a port to his head that made you think of a piece of +sculpture. + +"You can't be anything but a _man_ up here, Bobby," he said one day, and +I knew what he meant. "It's not the air, it's not the cold, and it's not +the fight you make to keep life in your body," he added, "but it's +God! That's what it is, Bobby. There's not a sound or a sight up here, +outside of that little cabin, that's human. It's all God--there's +nothing else--and it makes you think!" + + + + +III + +It was spring when we came down to Fort Churchill, and it was summer +when we struck York Factory. It was the middle of one of those summer +days when strawberries ripen even up there, that the last prop fell out +from under Thomas Jefferson, and he became Thomas Jefferson Brown. He +met Lady Isobel. The title did not really belong to her, for she was +only the cousin of Lord Meton; but Thomas Jefferson Brown called her +that from the first. + +It was down close to the boats, where their launch lay, and the wind had +frolicked with Lady Isobel's hair until it rippled about her face +and shoulders like a net of spun gold. She was bareheaded, and he was +bareheaded, and they stared for a moment, her blue eyes flashing into +his gray ones; and then there came into her face a color like rose, and +he bowed, as one of the old-time Presidents might have bowed to a +hair-powdered beauty in the days when the Capitol was young. + +That was the beginning, and to his honor be it said that Thomas +Jefferson Brown never revealed that he was a gentleman born, though his +heart was stricken with love at that first sight of Lady Isobel's lovely +face. Lord Meton wanted a man--one who could handle a canoe and shoulder +two hundred pounds of duff; and "Tom" became the man, working like a +slave for a month; but always with the pride and bearing of a king. + +It wasn't difficult to see what was happening. Lord Meton saw, and +understood; but he knew that the proud blood in Lady Isobel was an +invulnerable armor that would protect her from indiscretion. And as for +Thomas Jefferson Brown-- + +"Bobby," he said, standing up straight and tall, "if she can only love a +gentleman, and not a man, what's the use of playing cards?" + +One day, when he had to carry Lady Isobel ashore from a big York boat, +something inside him got the best of his arms, and he held her tight--so +tight that her eyes came down to his with a frightened look, and he +heard a breath come from her that was almost a sob. They gazed at each +other for a moment, and it was then that Thomas Jefferson Brown told her +that he loved her--not in words, but in a way that she understood. + +When he set her down on shore she was as white as death. From that day +she treated him a little coolly--up to the last moment, out on the bay. + +It was a bright, sunshiny day when the three--Lord Meton, Lady Isobel, +and Thomas Jefferson Brown--set off in a big birchbark canoe, bound for +Harrison's Island, a dozen miles out from the mainland. But you can't +tell much about sunshine and calm on Hudson Bay. They're like a jealous +woman's smile, masking something hidden. Four miles out, the wind came +up; midway between the island and the mainland, it was a small gale. +Even at that, Thomas Jefferson Brown would have made it all right if the +beat of the sea hadn't broken a rotten thread under the bow, letting the +birch seam part with a suddenness that sent a little spurt of water up +into Lady Isobel's face. + +What? No, this isn't going to have the regulation hero-act end, in +which Thomas Jefferson Brown saves the life of the lady he loves. It's +something different--something that Thomas Jefferson Brown never guessed +at when the water spurted in, and Lady Isobel turned to him with a +little scream, her beautiful blue eyes wide and filled with horror. + +"Don't be afraid," he said. "Here, take this jacket and hold it down +tight over the seam. We'll reach the island, all right." + +Lady Isobel held the jacket over the hole, and Thomas Jefferson Brown +put a strength into his paddle that threatened to crack off the handle. +After a minute or two, he saw a little trickle of water, beginning to +ooze in about the edges of the jacket. He leaned back for an instant, +and signaled Lord Meton to bend over toward him. + +"Take off your clothes," he said, so low that Lady Isobel couldn't hear. +"Can you swim?" + +"Not a stroke," said Lord Meton, and his face went as white as chalk; +but it was no whiter than Thomas Jefferson Brown's. + +When a birchbark seam begins to part there's no power on earth that will +hold it when the canoe is heavily loaded. A few minutes later, the water +was gushing in by the quart about Lady Isobel's feet. She fought hard +to hold it back. When at last she saw that it was hopeless, she turned +again, to see Lord Meton in his underwear, and Thomas Jefferson Brown +stripped of everything but his shirt and his buckskin trousers, which +don't water-sog. He laughed straight into her face, as if it was all an +amusing joke; and then, suddenly, he began playing that banjo thing with +his mouth. + +It was all so strange, with the beat of the sea, the wail of the wind, +and Thomas Jefferson Brown sitting there as if nothing were happening, +that Lady Isobel just stared in astonishment, while the water gushed in +about her. At last he put down his paddle, and stretched out both hands; +and it seemed the most natural thing in the world that her two hands +should come out to meet his. + +"Listen," he said, and his eyes were telling her again what they told +her on the day when he brought her in from the York boat. "You'll do as +I tell you, won't you? And you won't be afraid?" + +For an instant Lady Isobel looked at Lord Meton, shrinking and shivering +in the stern of the canoe; and then she looked back to the other man's +face, and blue fires seemed to leap into her eyes. + +"With _you_--no, I'm not afraid," she said. + +She leaned toward him, nearer and nearer, as the water rose about them, +looking straight into his eyes. They both knew in that moment that it +was the man and the woman who had triumphed, and that for them the lady +and the gentleman were dead. + +"I'm not afraid--with you," she said again. + +Her lips trembled, and her golden hair swept over his breast, and Thomas +Jefferson Brown bent down and kissed her once upon the mouth. Then he +said, as if he were speaking to a little girl: + +"Do not be afraid, and hold to the edge of the canoe when it fills. The +wind will carry us to Harrison's Island." + +He turned to Lord Meton, and repeated the words; and just then the +birchbark began to settle under them. With one hand gripping the side, +Thomas Jefferson Brown leaped over the sea. Lower and lower settled the +canoe with almost a scream, Lord Meton cried above the wind: + +"Good Lord, it won't hold us up!" + +For a few moments Thomas Jefferson relieved the canoe of his weight, and +the bark rose again, slowly. Then, with a gasp, he clutched at the side +again, and into Lady Isobel's drenched face, half hid the wet veil of +her shining hair. + +"The canoe won't hold us all up," he said trying to smile. "But it will +hold two--you two and the wind is taking it to the island, four miles to +the island, and I may be make it." + +He knew that he never could make it; no man could swim so far in the +chill waters of Hudson Bay; but he spoke as if his words were "I'm going +to let go and try. Isobel, my love, will you kiss me?" + +She threw one arm about his neck. Meton, clutching with frantic terror +to the canoe saw nothing of what happened, nor did he hear the sobbing +cry of Lady Isobel's heart as she kissed Thomas Jefferson Brown, once, +and then three times, before he dropped back into the sea again. + +"Good-by, sweetheart!" he said. + +In the eyes that looked up at her, in his eyes in the one last look of +love that he said, "Good-by." Lady Isobel saw the truth, and stretched +out her arm to him. + +"Stop! Come back! Take me with you!" she cried. "I want to go with you!" + +And there, in the wildness of that sea, four miles from shore, Thomas +Jefferson Brown seemed to heave himself up out of the water, as if the +strength of a thousand swimmers had suddenly come to him. He let out a +cry of triumph, of love, of joy; and he came back and gripped the canoe +again, his gray eyes flashing, his face glowing with a strange flush. + +"You want to go with me?" he said. "Come!" + +He held up his arms, and with a cry that wasn't fear Lady Isobel went +into them, while Thomas Jefferson Brown called to Lord Meton: + +"Stick to the canoe! It will take you to the island!" + + + + +IV + +The shore was a low, dark streak, four miles away--an appalling distance +away; but as she clung lightly to his shoulders, as Thomas Jefferson +Brown told her to do, the horror and the fear of the big sea went out +of Lady Isobel's brave little heart. She put her face down against his +neck, pulled back his wet hair, and kissed him. God bless all such true +hearts, wherever they be! + +"We'll make it, Tom--we'll make it!" she told him a hundred times. + +He felt the warm caresses of her lips, the thrilling love of her voice, +and he knew that she was ready to die with him. + +He swam in a strange way--a wonderfully strange way--did Thomas +Jefferson Brown. He stood almost erect in the water, his head and +shoulders clear; and now and then he stopped to rest, and it seemed no +test for him at all to float with the weight of the woman he loved, his +face turned up to her in those moments, her glorious blue eyes devouring +him, her sweet lips kissing him--still kissing him. + +He was doing a thing that she knew no other man in the world could do. +She kept telling him so, while the land drew nearer and nearer, until at +last she cried out in joy that she could see the little bushes along the +shore. + +"Another mile, Tom!" she said. "Only another mile, and then--" + +"And then--" he said. + +"And then--life!" she cried. "Life for you and me!" + +He went on, seeming to grow stronger as the shore drew nearer. It was +wonderful; but at last, when they came to the beach, he dropped down +like a dead man. Lady Isobel caught his head to her dripping breast, and +rocked him back and forth, sobbing a paean of love and pride, while far +out she saw the canoe and Lord Meton drifting shoreward. + +A few minutes later, Thomas Jefferson Brown went out into the sea again, +until he was not much more than a speck, and brought in the canoe and +Lord Meton, while Lady Isobel stood to her knees in the water, praising +her God that from riches and splendor she had come out into a wilderness +to find such a man as this. + +After that, at York Factory, there was nothing left for Thomas Jefferson +Brown to do but to reveal himself, and when Lord Meton discovered that +there ran as good blood through his rescuer's veins as through his +own, he gripped hands with the man who had saved him, and gave his +congratulations cm the spot. But it made no difference to Isobel. If +anything, she was a little disappointed. + +Thomas Jefferson Brown arranged to go back with them on their yacht. The +wedding would take place in London, a quiet affair. One day Isobel and +her lover came along hand in hand, and Thomas Jefferson Brown said to +me: + +"Bobby, you're going to be best man." + +"Not best man," Lady Isobel added, "but second best, Bobby. There's only +one best man in the world!" + +But I haven't been able to come to the point of this story yet--the +remarkable part of it. Two weeks later, when we were up the river +and our canoe struck a snag, I discovered that Thomas Jefferson Brown +"couldn't swim a stroke!" + +"Good Lord!" I said, but waited. + +Back at the post, Thomas Jefferson Brown took me into his little room, +and said: + +"Bobby, you've found that I can't swim, and I'm going to trust you with +a great secret. Love can accomplish miracles; and love did--out there. +For when I let go of the canoe, Bobby, I knew that I was going straight +down to my death. But a wonderful thing happened." He brought a little +map from a drawer. "Look at this map, Bobby. See all those little marks +off Harrison's Island--figures--twos and threes and fives, and +nothing above sixes? That's the depth of water for five miles out from +Harrison's Island, at low tide; and it was low tide when I jumped from +the canoe. That's all, Bobby. _I waded ashore_. But what would be the +good of saying anything about it when it brought me love like hers?" + +Yes, what would be the use? For Thomas Jefferson Brown stepped out +deliberately to go to his death, and found life. He's a hero and a man, +is Thomas Jefferson Brown, even if fate did step in to make heroism a +little easy for him at the time! + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Thomas Jefferson Brown, By James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOMAS JEFFERSON BROWN *** + +***** This file should be named 23181.txt or 23181.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/1/8/23181/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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