For those of you who haven’t had the experience, and I expect that’s most,  perhaps I should explain a little about this business of non-living. When I last left you I had just decided that since Eric was doing much better, I would go visit my other sons in St. John’s.  Now you have to remember that I was very new to the business at the time and didn’t understand much about how we ghosts, as you ‘living’ like to call us, get around and consequently ran into a wee bit of trouble. I’d first thought of my eldest son John and in an instant, I should have been standing next to him in St. John’s but since I hadn’t yet learned to ‘box’ my spirit compass, I found myself standing next to a John Riley in St. Jones Without! Now it’s been said, that it’s an ill wind that blows no one any good and it proved to be true that day. John it’s seems, had been checking his rabbit snares, when he’d been captured by three Beothuck Indians, as the natives of the island were called. Since there was constant fighting between the fishermen and the Indians at the time, John appeared to be in very hot water – that is until I turned up. The Indians took one look at me and took off like a scalded cat! John, who hadn’t seen me, must  have been quite bewildered by it all. I expect  the story circulated for years both in St. Jones without and the neighboring community of St. Jones Within.

 
My next attempt was more successful and I found not only John, but his two brothers, Sam and Tom all in the process of “putting away” the day’s catch. I was pleased to find them all working together and admired their skill. I watched with pride as Sam headed and gutted the Cod, while John split the fish like a master craftsman. It was then Tom’s turn to wash and later salt, codfish bigger than any I’d ever imagined.  It was obvious that neither of them could see me and at first I looked around for someway to help. I soon realized the impossibility of such a thing and decided to take a look around. The wharf was well built with a fine stage and storage shed, besides the big dory, there was a smaller one and a punt. I decided to look further and entered the big house on the hill where I found a cheerful and robust young woman humming to herself, as she took several pans of freshly baked bread from  the oven of an old wood stove.  I had moved to a chair by the table when she suddenly looked up and I knew at once that she could see me. Her face paled and with a shrill scream she ran out the door and down the hill,  collapsing in John’s arms.  As she described who she had seen, all three men looked at each other.  “It be the old man sure enough”, muttered Sam, “he must be dead or dying I reckon, but why did Rebekah see him and not one of us”?