Chapter 10

by Rudyard Kipling

　　But it was otherwise with the "We're Here's" silent cook, for hecame up, his kit in a handkerchief, and boarded the "Constance."Pay was no particular object, and he did not in the least carewhere he slept. His business, as revealed to him in dreams, was tofollow Harvey for the rest of his days. They tried argument and,at last, persuasion; but there is a difference between one CapeBreton and two Alabama negroes, and the matter was referred toCheyne by the cook and porter. The millionaire only laughed. Hepresumed Harvey might need a body-servant some day or other, andwas sure that one volunteer was worth five hirelings. Let the manstay, therefore; even though he called himself MacDonald and sworein Gaelic. The car could go back to Boston, where, if he werestill of the same mind, they would take him West.With the "Constance," which in his heart of hearts he loathed,departed the last remnant of Cheyne's millionairedom, and he gavehimself up to an energetic idleness. This Gloucester was a newtown in a new land, and he purposed to "take it in," as of old hehad taken in all the cities from Snohomish to San Diego of thatworld whence he hailed. They made money along the crooked streetwhich was half wharf and half ship's store: as a leadingprofessional he wished to learn how the noble game was played. Mensaid that four out of every five fish-balls served at NewEngland's Sunday breakfast came from Gloucester, and overwhelmedhim with figures in proof- statistics of boats, gear, wharf-frontage, capital invested, salting, packing, factories,insurance, wages, repairs, and profits. He talked with the ownersof the large fleets whose skippers were little more than hiredmen, and whose crews were almost all Swedes or Portuguese. Then heconferred with Disko, one of the few who owned their craft, andcompared notes in his vast head. He coiled himself away on chain-cables in marine junk-shops, asking questions with cheerful, un-slaked Western curiosity, till all the water-front wanted to know"what in thunder that man was after, anyhow." He prowled into theMutual Insurance rooms, and demanded explanations of themysterious remarks chalked up on the blackboard day by day; andthat brought down upon him secretaries of every Fisherman's Widowand Orphan Aid Society within the city limits. They beggedshamelessly, each man anxious to beat the other institution'srecord, and Cheyne tugged at his beard and handed them all over toMrs. Cheyne.She was resting in a boarding-house near Eastern Point - a strangeestablishment, managed. apparently, by the boarders, where thetable-cloths were red-and-white-checkered, and the population, whoseemed to have known one another intimately for years, rose up atmidnight to make Welsh rare-bits if it felt hungry. On the secondmorning of her stay Mrs. Cheyne put away her diamond solitairesbefore she came down to breakfast."They're most delightful people," she confided to her husband; "sofriendly and simple, too, though they are all Boston, nearly.""That isn't simpleness, mama," he said, looking across theboulders behind the apple-trees where the hammocks were slung."It's the other thing, that we - that I haven't got.""It can't be," said Mrs. Cheyne, quietly. "There isn't a womanhere owns a dress that cost a hundred dollars. Why, we -""I know it, dear. We have - of course we have. I guess it's onlythe style they wear East. Are you having a good time?""I don't see very much of Harvey; he's always with you; but Iain't near as nervous as I was.""I haven't had such a good time since Willie died. I never rightlyunderstood that I had a son before this. Harve's got to be a greatboy. 'Anything I can fetch you, dear? 'Cushion under your head?Well, we'll go down to the wharf again and look around."Harvey was his father's shadow in those days, and the two strolledalong side by side, Cheyne using the grades as an excuse forlaying his hand on the boy's square shoulder. It was then thatHarvey noticed and admired what had never struck him before - hisfather's curious power of getting at the heart of new matters aslearned from men in the street."How d'you make 'em tell you everything without opening yourhead?" demanded the son, as they came out of a rigger's loft."I've dealt with quite a few men in my time, Harve, and one sizes'em up somehow, I guess. I know something about myself, too."Then, after a pause, as they sat down on a wharf-edge: "Men can'most always tell when a man has handled things for himself, andthen they treat him as one of themselves.""Same as they treat me down at Wouverman's wharf. I'm one of thecrowd now. Disko has told every one I've earned my pay." Harveyspread out his hands and rubbed the palms together. "They're allsoft again," he said dolefully."Keep 'em that way for the next few years, while you're gettingyour education. You can harden 'em up after.""Ye-es, I suppose so," was the reply, in no delighted voice."It rests with you, Harve. You can take cover behind your mama, ofcourse, and put her on to fussing about your nerves and yourhighstrungness and all that kind of poppycock.""Have I ever done that?" said Harvey, uneasily.His father turned where he sat and thrust out a long hand. "Youknow as well as I do that I can't make anything of you if youdon't act straight by me. I can handle you alone if you'll stayalone, but I don't pretend to manage both you and mama. Life's tooshort, anyway.""Don't make me out much of a fellow, does it?""I guess it was my fault a good deal; but if you want the truth,you haven't been much of anything up to date. Now, have you?""Umm! Disko thinks . . . Say, what d'you reckon it's cost you toraise me from the start - first, last, and all over?"Cheyne smiled. "I've never kept track, but I should estimate, indollars and cents, nearer fifty than forty thousand; maybe sixty.The young generation comes high. It has to have things, and ittires of 'em, and - the old man foots the bill."Harvey whistled, but at heart he was rather pleased to think thathis upbringing had cost so much. "And all that's sunk capital,isn't it?""Invested, Harve. Invested, I hope.""Making it only thirty thousand, the thirty I've earned is aboutten cents on the hundred. That's a mighty poor catch." Harveywagged his head solemnly.Cheyne laughed till he nearly fell off the pile into the water."Disko has got a heap more than that out of Dan since he was ten;and Dan's at school half the year, too.""Oh, that's what you're after, is it?""No. I'm not after anything. I'm not stuck on myself any just now- that's all . . . . I ought to be kicked.""I can't do it, old man; or I would, I presume, if I'd been madethat way.""Then I'd have remembered it to the last day I lived - and neverforgiven you," said Harvey, his chin on his doubled fists."Exactly. That's about what I'd do. You see?""I see. The fault's with me and no one else. All the samey,something's got to be done about it."Cheyne drew a cigar from his vest-pocket, bit off the end, andfell to smoking. Father and son were very much alike; for thebeard hid Cheyne's mouth, and Harvey had his father's slightlyaquiline nose, close-set black eyes, and narrow, high cheek-bones.With a touch of brown paint he would have made up verypicturesquely as a Red Indian of the story-books."Now you can go on from here," said Cheyne, slowly, "costing mebetween six or eight thousand a year till you're a voter. Well,we'll call you a man then. You can go right on from that, livingon me to the tune of forty or fifty thousand, besides what yourmother will give you, with a valet and a yacht or a fancy-ranchwhere you can pretend to raise trotting stock and play cards withyour own crowd.""Like Lorry Tuck?" Harvey put in."Yep; or the two De Vitr boys or old man McQuade's son.California's full of 'em, and here's an Eastern sample while we'retalking."A shiny black steam-yacht, with mahogany deck-house, nickel-platedbinnacles, and pink-and-white-striped awnings, puffed up theharbour, flying the burgee of some New York club. Two young men,in what they conceived to be sea costumes, were playing cards bythe saloon skylight; and a couple of women with red and blueparasols looked on and laughed noisily."Shouldn't care to be caught out in her in any sort of a breeze.No, beam," said Harvey, critically, as the yacht slowed to pick upher mooring-buoy."They're having what stands them for a good time. I can give youthat, and twice as much as that, Harve. How'd you like it?""Caesar! That's no way to get a dinghy over-side," said Harvey,still intent on the yacht. "If I couldn't slip a tackle betterthan that I'd stay ashore. . . . What if I don't?""Stay ashore - or what?""Yacht and ranch and live on 'the old man,' and - get behind mamawhen there's trouble," said Harvey, with a twinkle in his eye."Why, in that case, you come right in with me, my son.""Ten dollars a month?" Another twinkle."Not a cent more until you're worth it, and you won't begin totouch that for a few years.""I'd sooner begin sweeping out the office -isn't that how the bigbugs start? - and touch something now than -""I know it; we all feel that way. But I guess we can hire anysweeping we need. I made the same mistake myself of starting intoo soon.""Thirty million dollars' worth o' mistake, wasn't it? I'd risk itfor that.""I lost some; and I gained some. I'll tell you."Cheyne pulled his beard and smiled as he looked over the stillwater, and spoke away from Harvey, who presently began to be awarethat his father was telling the story of his life. He talked in alow, even voice, without gesture and without expression; and itwas a history for which a dozen leading journals would cheerfullyhave paid many dollars - the story of forty years that was at thesame time the story of the New West, whose story is yet to bewritten.It began with a kinless boy turned loose in Texas, and went onfantastically through a hundred changes and chops of life, thescenes shifting from State after Western State, from cities thatsprang up in a month and in a season utterly withered away, towild ventures in wilder camps that are now laborious, pavedmunicipalities. It covered the building of three railroads and thedeliberate wreck of a fourth. It told of steamers, townships,forests, and mines, and the men of every nation under heaven,manning, creating, hewing, and digging these. It touched onchances of gigantic wealth flung before eyes that could not see,or missed by the merest accident of time and travel; and throughthe mad shift of things, sometimes on horseback, more often afoot,now rich, now poor, in and out, and back and forth, deck-hand,train-hand, contractor, boardinghouse keeper, journalist,engineer, drummer, real-estate agent, politician, dead-beat,rumseller, mine-owner, speculator, cattle-man, or tramp, movedHarvey Cheyne, alert and quiet, seeking his own ends, and, so hesaid, the glory and advancement of his country.He told of the faith that never deserted him even when he hung onthe ragged edge of despair the faith that comes of knowing men andthings. He enlarged, as though he were talking to himself, on hisvery great courage and resource at all times. The thing was soevident in the man's mind that he never even changed his tone. Hedescribed how he had bested his enemies, or forgiven them, exactlyas they had bested or forgiven him in those careless days; how hehad entreated, cajoled, and bullied towns, companies, andsyndicates, all for their enduring good; crawled round, through,or under mountains and ravines, dragging a string and hoop-ironrailroad after him, and in the end, how he had sat still whilepromiscuous communities tore the last fragments of his characterto shreds.-The tale held Harvey almost breathless, his head a little cockedto one side, his eyes fixed on his father's face, as the twilightdeepened and the red cigar-end lit up the furrowed cheeks andheavy eyebrows. It seemed to him like watching a locomotivestorming across country in the dark - a mile between each glare ofthe opened fire-door: but this locomotive could talk, and thewords shook and stirred the boy to the core of his soul. At lastCheyne pitched away the cigar-butt, and the two sat in the darkover the lapping water."I've never told that to any one before," said the father.Harvey gasped. "It's just the greatest thing that ever was!" saidhe."That's what I got. Now I'm coming to what I didn't get. It won'tsound much of anything to you, but I don't wish you to be as oldas I am before you find out. I can handle men, of course, and I'mno fool along my own lines, but - butI can't compete with the man who has been taught! I've picked upas I went along, and I guess it sticks out all over me."-"I've never seen it," said the son, indignantly."You will, though, Harve. You will - just as soon as you'rethrough college. Don't I know it? Don't I know the look on men'sfaces when they think me a - a 'mucker,' as they call it out here?I can break them to little pieces - yes - but I can't get back at'em to hurt 'em where they live. I don't say they're 'way, 'wayup, but I feel I'm 'way, 'way, 'way off, somehow. Now you've gotyour chance. You've got to soak up all the learning that's around,and you'll live with a crowd that are doing the same thing.They'll be doing it for a few thousand dollars a year at most; butremember you'll be doing it for millions. You'll learn law enoughto look after your own property when I'm out o' the light, andyou'll have to be solid with the best men in the market (they areuseful later); and above all, you'll have to stow away the plain,common, sit-down-with-your-chin-on-your-elbows book-learning.Nothing pays like that, Harve, and it's bound to pay more and moreeach year in our country - in business and in politics. You'llsee.""There's no sugar my end of the deal," said Harvey. "Four years atcollege! "Wish I'd chosen the valet and the yacht!""Never mind, my son," Cheyne insisted. "You're investing yourcapital where it'll bring in the best returns; and I guess youwon't find our property shrunk any when you're ready to take hold.Think it over, and let me know in the morning. Hurry! We'll belate for supper!"As this was a business talk, there was no need for Harvey to tellhis mother about it; and Cheyne naturally took the same point ofview. But Mrs. Cheyne saw and feared, and was a little jealous.Her boy, who rode rough-shod over her, was gone, and in his steadreigned a keen-faced youth, abnormally silent, who addressed mostof his conversation to his father. She understood it was business,and therefore a matter beyond her premises. If she had any doubts,they were resolved when Cheyne went to Boston and brought back anew diamond marquise-ring."What have you two men been doing now?" she said, with a weaklittle smile, as she turned it in the light."Talking - just talking, mama; there's nothing mean about Harvey."There was not. The boy had made a treaty on his own account.Railroads, he explained gravely, interested him as little aslumber, real estate, or mining. What his soul yearned after wascontrol of his father's newly purchased sailing-ships. If thatcould be promised him within what he conceived to be a reasonabletime, he, for his part, guaranteed diligence and sobriety atcollege for four or five years. In vacation he was to be allowedfull access to all details connected with the line, - he had askednot more than two thousand questions about it, - from his father'smost private papers in the safe to the tug in San Franciscoharbour."It's a deal," said Cheyne at the last. "You'll alter your mindtwenty times before you leave college, o' course; but if you takehold of it in proper shape, and if you don't tie it up beforeyou're twenty-three, I'll make the thing over to you. How's that,Harve?""Nope; never pays to split up a going concern There's too muchcompetition in the world anyway, and Disko says 'blood-kin hev tostick together.' His crowd never go back on him. That's onereason, he says, why they make such big fares. Say, the "We'reHere" goes off to the Georges on Monday. They don't stay longashore, do they?""Well, we ought to be going, too, I guess. I've left my businesshung up at loose ends between two oceans, and it's time to connectagain. I just hate to do it, though; haven't had a holiday likethis for twenty years.""We can't go without seeing Disko off," said Harvey; "and Monday'sMemorial Day. Let's stay over that, anyway.""What is this memorial business? They were talking about it at theboarding-house," said Cheyne, weakly. He, too, was not anxious tospoil the golden days."Well, as far as I can make out, this business is a sort of song-and-dance act, whacked up for the summer boarders. Disko don'tthink much of it, he says, because they take up a collection forthe widows and orphans. Disko's independent. Haven't you noticedthat?"Well - yes. A little. In spots. Is it a town show, then?""The summer convention is. They read out the names of the fellowsdrowned or gone astray since last time, and they make speeches,and recite, and all. Then, Disko says, the secretaries of the AidSocieties go into the back yard and fight over the catch. The realshow, he says, is in the spring. The ministers all take a handthen, and there aren't any summer boarders around.""I see," said Cheyne, with the brilliant and perfect comprehensionof one born into and bred up to city pride. "We'll stay over forMemorial Day, and get off in the afternoon.""Guess I'll go down to Disko's and make him bring his crowd upbefore they sail. I'll have to stand with them, of course.""Oh, that's it, is it," said Cheyne. "I'm only a poor summerboarder, and you're -""A Banker - full-blooded Banker," Harvey called back as he boardeda trolley, and Cheyne went on with his blissful dreams for thefuture.Disko had no use for public functions where appeals were made forcharity, but Harvey pleaded that the glory of the day would belost, so far as he was concerned, if the "We're Heres" absentedthemselves. Then Disko made conditions. He had heard - it wasastonishing how all the world knew all the world's business alongthe waterfront - he had heard that a "Philadelphia actress-woman"was going to take part in the exercises; and he mistrusted thatshe would deliver "Skipper Ireson's Ride." Personally, he had aslittle use for actresses as for summer boarders; but justice wasjustice, and though he himself (here Dan giggled) had once slippedup on a matter of judgment, this thing must not be. So Harvey cameback to East Gloucester, and spent half a day explaining to anamused actress with a royal reputation on two seaboards theinwardness of the mistake she contemplated; and she admitted thatit was justice, even as Disko had said.-Cheyne knew by old experience what would happen; but anything ofthe nature of a public palaver was meat and drink to the man'ssoul. He saw the trolleys hurrying west, in the hot, hazy morning,full of women in light summer dresses, and white-faced straw-hatted men fresh from Boston desks; the stack of bicycles outsidethe post-office; the come-and-go of busy officials, greeting oneanother; the slow flick and swash of bunting in the heavy air; andthe important man with a hose sluicing the brick sidewalk."Mother," he said suddenly, "don't you remember - after Seattlewas burned out -and they got her going again?"Mrs. Cheyne nodded, and looked critically down the crooked street.Like her husband, she understood these gatherings, all the Westover, and compared them one against another. The fishermen beganto mingle with the crowd about the town-hall doors - blue-jowledPortuguese, their women bare-headed or shawled for the most part;clear-eyed Nova Scotians, and men of the Maritime Provinces;French, Italians, Swedes, and Danes, with outside crews ofcoasting schooners; and everywhere women in black, who saluted oneanother with a gloomy pride, for this was their day of great days.And there were ministers of many creeds, - pastors of great, gilt-edged congregations, at the seaside for a rest, with shepherds ofthe regular work, - from the priests of the Church on the Hill tobush-bearded ex-sailor Lutherans, hail-fellow with the men of ascore of boats. There were owners of lines of schooners, largecontributors to the societies, and small men, their few craftpawned to the mastheads, with bankers and marine-insurance agents,captains of tugs and water-boats, riggers, fitters, lumpers,salters, boat-builders, and coopers, and all the mixed populationof the water-front.They drifted along the line of seats made gay with the dresses ofthe summer boarders, and one of the town officials patrolled andperspired till he shone all over with pure civic pride. Cheyne hadmet him for five minutes a few days before, and between the twothere was entire understanding."Well, Mr. Cheyne, and what d'you think of our city? - Yes, madam,you can sit anywhere you please. - You have this kind of thing outWest, I presume?""Yes, but we aren't as old as you.""That's so, of course. You ought to have been at the exerciseswhen we celebrated our two hundred and fiftieth birthday. I tellyou, Mr. Cheyne, the old city did herself credit.""So I heard. It pays, too. What's the matter with the town that itdon't have a first-class hotel, though?""Right over there to the left, Pedro. Heaps o' room for you andyour crowd. -Why, that's what I tell 'em all the time, Mr. Cheyne.There's big money in it, but I presume that don't affect you any.What we want is -"A heavy hand fell on his broadcloth shoulder, and the flushedskipper of a Portland coal-and-ice coaster spun him half round."What in thunder do you fellows mean by clappin' the law on thetown when all decent men are at sea this way? Heh? Town's dry's abone, an' smells a sight worse sence I quit. 'Might ha' left usone saloon for soft drinks, anyway.""Don't seem to have hindered your nourishment this morning,Carsen. I'll go into the politics of it later. Sit down by thedoor and think over your arguments till I come back.""What good's arguments to me? In Miquelon champagne's eighteendollars a case, and -" The skipper lurched into his seat as anorgan-prelude silenced him."Our new organ," said the official proudly to Cheyne. "Cost usfour thousand dollars, too. We'll have to get back to high-licencenext year to pay for it. I wasn't going to let the ministers haveall the religion at their convention. Those are some of ourorphans standing up to sing. My wife taught 'em. See you againlater, Mr. Cheyne. I'm wanted on the platform."High, clear, and true, children's voices bore down the last noiseof those settling into their places."O all ye Works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord: praise him, andmagnify him for ever!"The women throughout the hall leaned forward to look as thereiterated cadences filled the air. Mrs. Cheyne, with some others,began to breathe short; she had hardly imagined there were so manywidows in the world; and instinctively searched for Harvey. He hadfound the "We're Heres" at the back of the audience, and wasstanding, as by right, between Dan and Disko. Uncle Salters,returned the night before with Penn, from Pamlico Sound, receivedhim suspiciously."Hain't your folk gone yet?" he grunted. "What are you doin' here,young feller?""O ye Seas and Floods, bless ye the Lord: praise him, and magnifyhim for ever!""Hain't he good right?" said Dan. "He's bin there, same as therest of us.""Not in them clothes," Salters snarled."Shut your head, Salters," said Disko. "Your bile's gone back onyou. Stay right where ye are, Harve."Then up and spoke the orator of the occasion, another pillar ofthe municipality, bidding the world welcome to Gloucester, andincidentally pointing out wherein Gloucester excelled the rest ofthe world. Then he turned to the sea-wealth of the city, and spokeof the price that must be paid for the yearly harvest. They wouldhear later the names of their lost dead - one hundred andseventeen of them. (The widows stared a little, and looked at oneanother here.) Gloucester could not boast any overwhelming millsor factories. Her sons worked for such wage as the sea gave; andthey all knew that neither Georges nor the Banks were cow-pastures. The utmost that folk ashore could accomplish was to helpthe widows and the orphans; and after a few general remarks hetook this opportunity of thanking, in the name of the city, thosewho had so public-spiritedly consented to participate in theexercises of the occasion."I jest despise the beggin' pieces in it," growled Disko. "Itdon't give folk a fair notion of us.""Ef folk won't be fore-handed an' put by when they've the chance,"returned Salters, "it stands in the nature o' things they hev tobe 'shamed. You take warnin' by that, young feller. Richesendureth but for a season, ef you scatter them araound onlugsuries -""But to lose everything - everything," said Penn. "What can you dothen? Once I" - the watery blue eyes stared up and down, aslooking for something to steady them - "once I read - in a book, Ithink - of a boat where every one was run down - except some one -and he said to me -""Shucks!" said Salters, cutting in. "You read a little less an'take more int'rust in your vittles, and you'll come nearer earnin'your keep, Penn."Harvey, jammed among the fishermen, felt a creepy, crawly,tingling thrill that began in the back of his neck and ended athis boots. He was cold, too, though it was a stifling day."'That the actress from Philadelphia?" said Disko Troop, scowlingat the platform. "You've fixed it about old man Ireson, hain't ye,Harve? Ye know why naow."It was not "Ireson's Ride" that the woman delivered, but some sortof poem about a fishing-port called Brixham and a fleet oftrawlers beating in against storm by night, while the women made aguiding fire at the head of the quay with everything they couldlay hands on."They took the grandam's blanket,Who shivered and bade them go;They took the baby's cradle,Who could not say them no.""Whew!" said Dan, peering over Long Jack's shoulder. "That'sgreat! Must ha' bin expensive, though.""Ground-hog case," said the Galway man. "Badly lighted port,Danny.""And knew not all the whileIf they were lighting a bonfireOr only a funeral pile."The wonderful voice took hold of people by their heartstrings; andwhen she told how the drenched crews were flung ashore, living anddead, and they carried the bodies to the glare of the fires,asking: "Child, is this your father?" or "Wife, is this your man?"you could hear hard breathing all over the benches."And when the boats of BrixhamGo out to face the gales,Think of the love that travelsLike light upon their sails!"There was very little applause when she finished. The women werelooking for their handkerchiefs, and many of the men stared at theceiling with shiny eyes."H'm," said Salters; "that 'u'd cost ye a dollar to hear at anytheater - maybe two. Some folk, I presoom, can afford it. 'Seemsdownright waste to me. . . . Naow, how in Jerusalem did Cap BartEdwardes strike adrift here?""No keepin' him under," said an Eastport man behind. "He's a poet,an' he's baound to say his piece. 'Comes from daown aour way,too."He did not say that Captain B. Edwardes had striven for fiveconsecutive years to be allowed to recite a piece of his owncomposition on Gloucester Memorial Day. An amused and exhaustedcommittee had at last given him his desire. The simplicity andutter happiness of the old man, as he stood up in his very bestSunday clothes, won the audience ere he opened his mouth. They satunmurmuring through seven-and-thirty hatchet-made versesdescribing at fullest length the loss of the schooner Joan Haskenoff the Georges in the gale of 1867, and when he came to an endthey shouted with one kindly throat.A far-sighted Boston reporter slid away for a full copy of theepic and an interview with the author; so that earth had nothingmore to offer Captain Bart Edwardes, ex-whaler, shipwright,master-fisherman, and poet, in the seventy-third year of his age."Naow, I call that sensible," said an Eastport man. "I've bin overthat graound with his writin', jest as he read it, in my twohands, and I can testify that he's got it all in.""If Dan here couldn't do better'n that with one hand beforebreakfast, he ought to be switched," said Salters, upholding thehonour of Massachusetts on general principles. "Not but what I'mfree to own he's considerable litt'ery - fer Maine. Still -""Guess Uncle Salters's goin' to die this trip. Fust complimenthe's ever paid me," Dan sniggered. "What's wrong with you, Harve?You act all quiet and you look greenish. Feelin' sick?""Don't know what's the matter with me," Harvey replied. "Seems ifmy insides were too big for my outsides. I'm all crowded up andshivery.""Dispepsy? Pshaw-too bad. We'll wait for the readin', an' thenwe'll quit, an' catch the tide."The widows - they were nearly all of that season's making - bracedthemselves rigidly like people going to be shot in cold blood, forthey knew what was coming. The summer-boarder girls in pink andblue shirt-waists stopped tittering over Captain Edwardes'swonderful poem, and looked back to see why all was silent. Thefishermen pressed forward as that town official who had talkedwith Cheyne bobbed up on the platform and began to read the year'slist of losses, dividing them into months. Last September'scasualties were mostly single men and strangers, but his voicerang very loud in the stillness of the hall."September 9th. - Schooner "Florrie Anderson" lost, with allaboard, off the Georges."Reuben Pitman, master, 50, single, Main Street, City."Emil Olsen, 19, single, 329 Hammond Street, City; Denmark."Oscar Stanberg, single, 25, Sweden."Carl Stanberg, single, 28, Main Street, City."Pedro, supposed Madeira, single, Keene's boarding-house, City."Joseph Welsh, alias Joseph Wright, 30, St. John's, Newfoundland.""No - Augusty, Maine," a voice cried from the body of the hall."He shipped from St. John's," said the reader, looking to see."I know it. He belongs in Augusty. My nevvy."The reader made a pencilled correction on the margin of the list,and resumed:"Same schooner, Charlie Ritchie, Liverpool, Nova Scotia, 33,single."Albert May, 267 Rogers Street, City, 27, single."September 27th. - Orvin Dollard, 30, married, drowned in dory offEastern Point."That shot went home, for one of the widows flinched where she sat,clasping and unclasping her hands. Mrs. Cheyne, who had beenlistening with wide-opened eyes, threw up her head and choked.Dan's mother, a few seats to the right, saw and heard and quicklymoved to her side. The reading went on. By the time they reachedthe January and February wrecks the shots were falling thick andfast, and the widows drew breath between their teeth."February i4th. - Schooner "Harry Randolph" dismasted on the wayhome from Newfoundland; Asa Musie, married, 32, Main Street, City,lost overboard."February a 3d. - Schooner "Gilbert Hope"; went astray in dory,Robert Beavon, 29, married, native of Pubnico, Nova Scotia."But his wife was in the hall. They heard a low cry, as though alittle animal had been hit. It was stifled at once, and a girlstaggered out of the hail. She had been hoping against hope formonths, because some who have gone adrift in dories have beenmiraculously picked up by deep-sea sailing-ships. Now she had hercertainty, and Harvey could see the policeman on the sidewalkhailing a hack for her. "It's fifty cents to the depot" - thedriver began, but the policeman held up his hand - "but I'm goin'there anyway. Jump right in. Look at here, Alf; you don't pull menext time my lamps ain't lit. See?"The side-door closed on the patch of bright sunshine, and Harvey'seyes turned again to the reader and his endless list."April 19th. - Schooner "Mamie Douglas" lost on the Banks with allhands."Edward Canton, 43, master, married, City."D. Hawkins, alias Williams, 34, married, Shelbourne, Nova Scotia."G. W. Clay, coloured, 28, married, City."And so on, and so on. Great lumps were rising in Harvey's throat,and his stomach reminded him of the day when he fell from theliner."May 10th. - Schooner "We're Here" [the blood tingled all overhim]. Otto Svendson, 20, single, City, lost overboard."Once more a low, tearing cry from somewhere at the back of thehall."She shouldn't ha' come. She shouldn't ha' come," said Long Jack,with a cluck of pity."Don't scrowge, Harve," grunted Dan. Harvey heard that much, butthe rest was all darkness spotted with fiery wheels. Disko leanedforward and spoke to his wife, where she sat with one arm roundMrs. Cheyne, and the other holding down the snatching, catching,ringed hands."Lean your head daown - right daown!" she whispered. "It'll go offin a minute.""I ca-an't! I do-don't! Oh, let me -" Mrs. Cheyne did not at allknow what she said."You must," Mrs. Troop repeated. "Your boy's jest fainted deadaway. They do that some when they're gettin' their growth. 'Wishto tend to him? We can git aout this side. Quite quiet. You comeright along with me. Psha', my dear, we're both women, I guess. Wemust tend to aour men-folk. Come!"The "We're Heres" promptly went through the crowd as a body-guard,and it was a very white and shaken Harvey that they propped up ona bench in an anteroom."Favours his ma," was Mrs. Troop's only comment, as the motherbent over her boy."How d'you suppose he could ever stand it?" she cried indignantlyto Cheyne, who had said nothing at all. "It was horrible -horrible! We shouldn't have come. It's wrong and wicked! It - itisn't right! Why - why couldn't they put these things in thepapers, where they belong? Are you better, darling?"That made Harvey very properly ashamed. "Oh, I'm all right, Iguess," he said, struggling to his feet, with a broken giggle."Must ha' been something I ate for breakfast.""Coffee, perhaps," said Cheyne, whose face was all in hard lines,as though it had been cut out of bronze. "We won't go back again.""Guess 'twould be 'baout's well to git daown to the wharf," saidDisko. "It's close in along with them Dagoes, an' the fresh airwill fresh Mrs. Cheyne up."Harvey announced that he never felt better in his life; but it wasnot till he saw the "We're Here", fresh from the lumper's hands,at Wouverman's wharf, that he lost his all-overish feelings in aqueer mixture of pride and sorrowfulness. Other people - summerboarders and such-like - played about in cat-boats or looked atthe sea from pier-heads; but he understood things from the inside- more things than he could begin to think about. None the less,he could have sat down and howled because the little schooner wasgoing off. Mrs. Cheyne simply cried and cried every step of theway, and said most extraordinary things to Mrs. Troop, who"babied" her till Dan, who had not been "babied" since he was six,whistled aloud.And so the old crowd - Harvey felt like the most ancient ofmariners - dropped into the old schooner among the battereddories, while Harvey slipped the stern-fast from the pier-head,and they slid her along the wharf-side with their hands. Every onewanted to say so much that no one said anything in particular.Harvey bade Dan take care of Uncle Salters's sea-boots and Penn'sdory-anchor, and Long Jack entreated Harvey to remember hislessons in seamanship; but the jokes fell flat in the presence ofthe two women, and it is hard to be funny with green harbour-waterwidening between good friends."Up jib and fores'l! "shouted Disko, getting to the wheel, as thewind took her. "See you later, Harve. Dunno but I come nearthinkin' a heap o' you an' your folks."Then she glided beyond ear-shot, and they sat down to watch her upthe harbour. And still Mrs. Cheyne wept."Psha', my dear," said Mrs. Troop; "we're both women, I guess.Like's not it'll ease your heart to hev your cry aout. God Heknows it never done me a mite o' good; but then He knows I've hadsomething to cry fer!"Now it was a few years later, and upon the other edge of America,that a young man came through the clammy sea-fog up a windy streetwhich is flanked with most expensive houses built of wood toimitate stone. To him, as he was standing by a hammered iron gate,entered on horseback - and the horse would have been cheap at athousand dollars - another young man. And this is what they said:"Hello, Dan!""Hello, Harve!""What's the best with you?""Well, I'm so's to be that kind o' animal called second mate thistrip. Ain't you most through with that triple-invoiced college o'yours?""Getting that way. I tell you, the Leland Stanford Junior isn't acircumstance to the old "We're Here"; but I'm coming into thebusiness for keeps next fall.""Meanin' aour packets?""Nothing else. You just wait till I get my knife into you, Dan.I'm going to make the old line lie down and cry when I take hold.""I'll resk it," said Dan, with a brotherly grin, as Harveydismounted and asked whether he were coming in."That's what I took the cable fer; but, say, is the doctoranywheres araound? I'll draown that crazy nigger some day, his onecussed joke an' all."There was a low, triumphant chuckle, as the ex-cook of the "We'reHere" came out of the fog to take the horse's bridle. He allowedno one but himself to attend to any of Harvey's wants."Thick as the Banks, ain't it, doctor?" said Dan, propitiatingly.But the coal-black Celt with the second-sight did not see fit toreply till he had tapped Dan on the shoulder, and for thetwentieth time croaked the old, old prophecy in his ear:"Master - man. Man - master," said he. "You remember, Dan Troop,what I said? On the 'We're Here'?""Well, I won't go so far as to deny that it do look like it asthings stand at present," said Dan. "She was an able packet, andone way an' another I owe her a heap - her and dad.""Me too," quoth Harvey Cheyne.