Peace Keeping, Island Style

Jesus wept! Sparrow yelped and rose from the old porch rocking chair so quickly it turned over with a crash and startled the old dog within an inch of his life.  What the hell was that?

Ruthie and I, playing cards and drinking lemonade on the rickety porch, looked up just in time to see a couple of the Sullivan boys come flying around the bend of the ledge, hell bent for leather as the islanders liked to say, with Old Hat, a pack of dogs and her trusty shotgun close behind.  They were running like the wind but the dogs outpaced and outmaneuvered them easily - in a matter of seconds the pack had closed off their escape route and steered them down the length of the breakwater where it was either into the choppy, icy water or up the navigation light ladder - they chose the ladder, scrambling like monkeys with the dogs nipping and baying at their heels.   Breathless but still managing a string of unintelligible curses, Hattie stormed the wharf and positioned herself at the foot of the ladder, the shotgun resting on one heaving shoulder.  She took aim and fired and Eli Sullivan's dusty old hat went flying off his head.  Her second shot might well have taken off his head but by then Sparrow had tackled the ragged old woman - she fought like a mountain cat, hissing and clawing and spitting - and it took a half dozen of the factory men to subdue and disarm her.

Stole my cabbages, they did! she shrieked, Sumbitches stole my cabbages!

Jesus wept! How many damn guns you got, old woman, Sparrow demanded irritably and pitched it into the passage, I swear this is the third one I done taken off you!

Cabbage stealers! Hattie wailed, Sumbitch Sullivans ain't nothin' but thieves and no accounts!  Stole my cabbages, they did!


Hattie, Sparrow said with a mighty sigh, How many times I tell you, you cain't rightly shoot'em for rustlin'
vegetables!  It ain't legal!

Stealin' and trespassin' ain't legal, you old fool, Hattie snarled back, I got a right to protect what's mine!

Sparrow tilted his head back and looked up at the two boys clinging precariously to the metal ladder.  He knew as we all did, that of all the island clans, the Sullivans were the most loyal, the most stubborn, the most united and the least likely to admit to wrongdoing.  On the other hand, we could almost hear him thinking, the ladder did offer considerable leverage.

Eli! he called mildly enough, You and brother steal Hattie's cabbages?

No, Sir! came the emphatic reply, in unison, with just the right touch of injured pride.

Reckon you'd better open your jacket then, Sparrow called back and winked at Ruthie and I.  Might want to take cover, little ones, he advised us, Got me an an idea it's gonna be rainin' cabbages any minute now.

And after a slight delay, it did.  Eli opened his jacket and cabbages came tumbling down like meteors, hitting the old breakwater with dull splats!  A clump of carrots flew by, narrowly missing Ruthie and I, then what looked like sweet potatoes, and finally a half dozen or so radishes.  Beside herself at this vegetable storm, Hattie screeched like the brakes on a subway car and struggled with the fury of hell against the men holding her.  One wild kick of her boot caught Jacob Sullivan squarely in the crotch and he went down in a moaning heap - another connected with a solid crunch against his brother's knee and John gave a surprised yelp of pain.

Might oughta throw all three of 'em over and drown 'em, Sparrow, he muttered.

Not a half bad idea, Sparrow said with a glare at the old woman, Leastways we might get some peace 'round here.  But reckon one of us'd hafta fish 'em out just to keep things legal, so here's what we gonna do.....

Hattie agreed not to shoot them.  The Sullivan boys agreed to a full day's work to repair the garden.  Jacob and John Sullivan agreed to an apology.

It's that or over the side, Sparrow decreed, knowing full well that none of them could swim a lick.

Island justice - a moderate but strictly enforced blend of common sense, binding arbitration and when necessary, a gentle hint of blackmail - prevailed.  Without a jail or a court or a paid peace keeper, it fell to the elders to mediate disputes and uphold the law.  They judged and juried as fairly as possible, in simple terms and using whatever means were at hand.  There were no appeals, no long, drawn out legal battles, no moral quagmires or ethical dilemmas.  You violated a basic community principle, you paid, you moved on.

Blessed be the peacemakers and those who keep them busy.