Chapter 3

by Rudyard Kipling

　　It was the forty-fathom slumber that clears the soul and eye andheart, and sends you to breakfast ravening. They emptied a big tindish of juicy fragments of fish - the blood-ends the cook hadcollected overnight. They cleaned up the plates and pans of theelder mess, who were out fishing, sliced pork for the midday meal,swabbed down the fo'c'sle, filled the lamps, drew coal and waterfor the cook, and investigated the fore-hold, where the boat'sstores were stacked. It was another perfect day - soft, mild, andclear; and Harvey breathed to the very bottom of his lungs.More schooners had crept up in the night, and the long blue seaswere full of sails and dories. Far away on the horizon, the smokeof some liner, her hull invisible, smudged the blue, and toeastward a big ship's topgallantsails, just lifting, made a squarenick in it. Disko Troop was smoking by the roof of the cabin - oneeye on the craft around, and the other on the little fly at themainmast-head."When dad kerflummoxes that way," said Dan, in a whisper, "he'sdoin' some high-line thinkin' fer all hands. I'll lay my wage an'share we'll make berth soon. Dad he knows the cod, an' the fleetthey know dad knows. 'See 'em comin' up one by one, lookin' fernothin' in particular, o' course, but scrowgin' on us all thetime? There's the Prince Leboa; she's a Chat-ham boat. She's crep'up sence last night. An' see that big one with a patch in herforesail an' a new jib? She's the Carrie Pitman from West Chat-ham. She won't keep her canvas long on less her luck's changedsince last season. She don't do much 'cep' drift. There ain't ananchor made'll hold her. . . . When the smoke puffs up in littlerings like that, dad's studyin' the fish. Ef we speak to him now,he'll git mad. Las' time I did, he jest took an' hove a boot atme."Disko Troop stared forward, the pipe between his teeth, with eyesthat saw nothing. As his son said, he was studying the fish -pitting his knowledge and experience on the Banks against theroving cod in his own sea. He accepted the presence of theinquisitive schooners on the horizon as a compliment to hispowers. But now that it was paid, he wished to draw away and makehis berth alone, till it was time to go up to the Virgin and fishin the streets of that roaring town upon the waters. So DiskoTroop thought of recent weather, and gales, currents, food-supplies, and other domestic arrangements, from the point of viewof a twenty-pound cod; was, in fact, for an hour a cod himself,and looked remarkably like one. Then he removed the pipe from histeeth."Dad," said Dan, "we've done our chores. Can't we go overside apiece? It's good catch-in' weather.""Not in that cherry-coloured rig ner them ha'afbaked brown shoes.Give him suthin' fit to wear.""Dad's pleased - that settles it," said Dan, delightedly, draggingHarvey into the cabin, while Troop pitched a key down the steps."Dad keeps my spare rig where he kin overhaul it, 'cause ma sezI'm keerless." He rummaged through a locker, and in less thanthree minutes Harvey was adorned with fisherman's rubber bootsthat came half up his thigh, a heavy blue jersey well darned atthe elbows, a pair of flippers, and a sou'wester."Naow ye look somethin' like," said Dan. "Hurry!""Keep nigh an' handy," said Troop, "an' don't go visitin' raoundthe fleet. Ef any one asks you what I'm cal'latin' to do, speakthe truth - ferye don't know."A little red dory, labelled Hattie S., lay astern of the schooner.Dan hauled in the painter, and dropped lightly on to the bottomboards, while Harvey tumbled clumsily after."That's no way o' gettin' into a boat," said Dan. "Ef there wasany sea you'd go to the bottom, sure. You got to learn to meether."Dan fitted the thole-pins, took the forward thwart, and watchedHarvey's work. The boy had rowed, in a ladylike fashion, on theAdirondack ponds; but there is a difference between squeaking pinsand well-balanced rowlocks - light sculls and stubby, eight-footsea-oars. They stuck in the gentle swell, and Harvey grunted."Short! Row short!" said Dan. "Ef you cramp your oar in any kindo' sea you're liable to turn her over. Ain't she a daisy? Mine,too."The little dory was specklessly clean. In her bows lay a tinyanchor, two jugs of water, and some seventy fathoms of thin, browndory-roding. A tin dinner-horn rested in cleats just underHarvey's right hand, beside an ugly-looking maul, a short gaff,and a shorter wooden stick. A couple of lines, with very heavyleads and double cod-hooks, all neatly coiled on square reels,were stuck in their place by the gunwale."Where's the sail and mast?" said Harvey, for his hands werebeginning to blister.Dan chuckled. "Ye don't sail fishin'-dories much. Ye pull; but yeneedn't pull so hard. Don't you wish you owned her?""Well, I guess my father might give me one or two if I asked 'em,"Harvey replied. He had been too busy to think much of his familytill then."That's so. I forgot your dad's a millionaire. You don't actmillionary any, naow. But a dory an' craft an' gear" - Dan spokeas though she were a whale-boat "costs a heap. Think your dad 'u'dgive you one fer - fer a pet like?""Shouldn't wonder. It would be 'most the only thing I haven'tstuck him for yet.""Must be an expensive kinder kid to home. Don't slitheroo thetway, Harve. Short's the trick, because no sea's ever dead still,an' the swells'll -"Crack! The loom of the oar kicked Harvey under the chin andknocked him backward."That was what I was goin' to say. I hed to learn too, but Iwasn't more than eight years old when I got my schoolin'."Harvey regained his seat with aching jaws and a frown."No good gettin' mad at things, dad says. It's our own fault ef wecan't handle 'em, he says. Le's try here. Manuel'll give us thewater."The " Portugee" was rocking fully a mile away, but when Dan up-ended an oar he waved his left arm three times."Thirty fathom," said Dan, stringing a salt clam on to the hook."Over with the dough-boys. Bait same's I do, Harve, an' don'tsnarl your reel."Dan's line was out long before Harvey had mastered the mystery ofbaiting and heaving out the leads. The dory drifted along easily.It was not worth while to anchor till they were sure of goodground."Here we come!" Dan shouted, and a shower of spray rattled onHarvey's shoulders as a big cod flapped and kicked alongside."Muckle, Harvey, muckle! Under your hand! Quick!"Evidently "muckle" could not be the dinner-horn, so Harvey passedover the maul, and Dan scientifically stunned the fish before hepulled it inboard, and wrenched out the hook with the short woodenstick he called a "gob-stick." Then Harvey felt a tug, and pulledup zealously."Why, these are strawberries!" he shouted. "Look!"The hook had fouled among a bunch of strawberries, red on one sideand white on the other - perfect reproductions of the land fruit,except that there were no leaves, and the stem was all pipy andslimy."Don't tech 'em! Slat 'em off. Don't -"The warning came too late. Harvey had picked them from the hook,and was admiring them."Ouch!" he cried, for his fingers throbbed as though he hadgrasped many nettles."Naow ye know what strawberry-bottom means. Nothin' 'cep' fishshould be teched with the naked fingers, dad says. Slat 'em offag'in' the gunnel, an' bait up, Harve. Lookin' won't help any.It's all in the wages."Harvey smiled at the thought of his ten and a half dollars amonth, and wondered what his mother would say if she could see himhanging over the edge of a fishing-dory in mid-ocean. She sufferedagonies whenever he went out on Saranac Lake; and, by the way,Harvey remembered distinctly that he used to laugh at heranxieties. Suddenly the line flashed through his hand, stingingeven through the "flippers," the woolen circlets supposed toprotect it."He's a logy. Give him room accordin' to his strength," cried Dan."I'll help ye.""No, you won't," Harvey snapped, as he hung on to the line. "It'smy first fish. Is - is it a whale?""Halibut, mebbe." Dan peered down into the water alongside, andflourished the big "muckle," ready for all chances. Somethingwhite and oval flickered and fluttered through the green. "I'lllay my wage an' share he's over a hundred. Are you so everlastin'anxious to land him alone?" Harvey's knuckles were raw andbleeding where they had been banged against the gunwale; his facewas purple-blue between excitement and exertion; he dripped withsweat, and was half blinded from staring at the circling sunlitripples about the swiftly moving line. The boys were tired longere the halibut, who took charge of them and the dory for the nexttwenty minutes. But the big flat fish was gaffed and hauled in atlast."Beginner's luck," said Dan, wiping his forehead. "He's all of ahundred."Harvey looked at the huge grey-and-mottled creature withunspeakable pride. He had seen halibut many times on marble slabsashore, but it had never occurred to him to ask how they cameinland. Now he knew; and every inch of his body ached withfatigue."Ef dad was along," said Dan, hauling up, "he'd read the signsplain's print. The fish arc runnin' smaller an' smaller, an'you've took baout as logy a halibut's we're apt to find this trip.Yesterday's catch - did ye notice it? - was all big fish an' nohalibut. Dad he'd read them signs right off. Dad says everythin'on the Banks is signs, an' can be read wrong er right. Dad'sdeeper'n the Whale-hole."Even as he spoke some one fired a pistol on the "We're Here", anda potato-basket was run up in the fore-rigging."What did I say, naow? That's the call fer the whole crowd. Dad'sonter something, er he'd never break fishin' this time o' day.Reel up, Harve, an' we'll pull back."They were to windward of the schooner, just ready to flirt thedory over the still sea, when sounds of woe half a mile off ledthem to Penn, who was careering around a fixed point, for all theworld like a gigantic water-bug. The little man backed away andcame down again with enormous energy, but at the end of eachmanoeuvre his dory swung round and snubbed herself on her rope."We'll hey to help him, else he'll root an' seed here," said Dan."What's the matter?" said Harvey. This was a new world, where hecould not lay down the law to his elders, but had to ask questionshumbly. And the sea was horribly big and unexcited."Anchor's fouled. Penn's always losing 'em. Lost two this tripa'ready, - on sandy bottom, too, - an' dad says next one he loses,sure's fish-in', he'll give him the kelleg. That 'u'd break Penn'sheart.""What's a 'kelleg'?" said Harvey, who had a vague idea it might besome kind of marine torture, like keel-hauling in the story-books."Big stone instid of an anchor. You kin see a kelleg ridin' in thebows fur's you can see a dory, an' all the fleet knows what itmeans. They'd guy him dreadful. Penn couldn't stand that no more'na dog with a dipper to his tail.He's so everlastin' sensitive. Hello, Penn! Stuck again? Don't tryany more o' your patents. Come up on her, and keep your rodin'straight up an' down.""It doesn't move," said the little man, panting. "It doesn't moveat all, and indeed I tried everything.""What's all this hurrah's-nest for'ard?" said Dan, pointing to awild tangle of spare oars and dory-roding, all matted together bythe hand of inexperience."Oh, that," said Penn, proudly, "is a Spanish windlass. Mr.Salters showed me how to make it; but even that doesn't move her."Dan bent low over the gunwale to hide a smile, twitched once ortwice on the roding, and, behold, the anchor drew at once."Haul up, Penn," he said, laughing, "er she 'll git stuck again."They left him regarding the weed-hung flukes of the little anchorwith big, pathetic blue eyes, and thanking them profusely."Oh, say, while I think of it, Harve," said Dan, when they wereout of ear-shot, "Penn ain't quite all caulked. He ain't nowisedangerous, but his mind's give out. See?""Is that so, or is it one of your father's judgments?" Harveyasked, as he bent to his oars. He felt he was learning to handlethem more easily."Dad ain't mistook this time. Penn's a sure'nuff loony. No, heain't thet, exactly, so much ez a harmless ijjit. It was this way(you're rowin' quite so, Harve), an' I tell you 'cause it's rightyou orter know. He was a Moravian preacher once. Jacob Boller wuzhis name, dad told me, an' he lived with his wife an' fourchildren somewheres out Pennsylvania way. Well, Penn he took hisfolks along to a Moravian meetin', - camp-meetin', most like, -an' they stayed over jest one night in Johnstown. You've heeredtalk o' Johnstown?"Harvey considered. "Yes, I have. But I don't know why. It sticksin my head same as Ashtabula.""Both was big accidents - thet's why, Harve. Well, that one singlenight Penn and his folks was to the hotel Johnstown was wiped out.'Dam bu'st an' flooded her, an' the houses struck adrift an'bumped into each other an' sunk. I've seen the pictures, an'they're dretful. Penn he saw his folk drowned all 'n a heap 'forehe rightly knew what was comin'. His mind give out from that on.He mistrusted somethin' hed happened up to Johnstown, but for thepoor life of him he couldn't remember what, an' he jest driftedaraound smilin' an' wonderin'. He didn't know what he was, nor yitwhat he hed bin, an' thet way he run ag'in' Uncle Salters, who wasvisitin' 'n Allegheny City. Ha'af my mother's folks they livescattered inside o' Pennsylvania, an' Uncle Salters he visitsaraound winters. Uncle Salters he kinder adopted Penn, wellknowin' what his trouble wuz; an' he brought him East, an' he givehim work on his farm.""Why, I heard him calling Penn a farmer last night when the boatsbumped. Is your Uncle Salters a farmer?""Farmer!" shouted Dan. "There ain't water enough 'tween here an'Hatt'rus to wash the furrer-mould off'n his boots. He's Jesteverlastin' farmer. Why, Harve, I've seen thet man hitch up abucket, long towards sundown, an' set twiddlin' the spigot to thescuttle-butt same's ef 'twuz a cow's bag. He's thet much farmer.Well, Penn an' he they ran the farm - up Exeter way, 'twuz. UncleSalters he sold it this spring to a jay from Boston as wanted tobuild a summerhaouse, an' he got a heap for it. Well, them twoloonies scratched along till, one day, Penn's church he'd belongedto - the Moravians - found out where he wuz drifted an' layin',an' wrote to Uncle Salters. 'Never heerd what they said exactly;but Uncle Salters was mad. He's a 'piscopalian mostly - but hejest let 'em hev it both sides o' the bow, 'sif he was a Baptist,an' sez he warn't goin' to give up Penn to any blame Moravianconnection in Pennsylvania or anywheres else. Then he come to dad,towin' Penn, - thet was two trips back, - an' sez he an' Penn mustfish a trip fer their health. 'Guess he thought the Moravianswouldn't hunt the Banks fer Jacob Boller. Dad was agreeable, ferUncle Salters he'd been fishin' off an' on fer thirty years, whenhe warn't inventin' patent manures, an' he took quarter-share inthe 'We're Here'; an' the trip done Penn so much good, dad made ahabit o' takin' him. Some day, dad sez, he'll remember his wifean' kids an' Johnstown, an' then, like's not, he'll die, dad sez.Don't yer talk about Johnstown ner such things to Penn, 'r UncleSalters he'll heave ye overboard.""Poor Penn!" murmured Harvey. "I shouldn't ever have thought UncleSalters cared for him by the look of 'em together.""I like Penn, though; we all do," said Dan. "We ought to ha' givehim a tow, but I wanted to tell ye first."They were close to the schooner now, the other boats a littlebehind them."You needn't heave in the dories till after dinner," said Troop,from the deck. "We'll dress-daown right off. Fix table, boys!""Deeper'n the Whale-deep," said Dan, with a wink, as he set thegear for dressing-down. "Look at them boats that hev edged upsence mornin'. They're all waitin' on dad. See 'em, Harve?""They are all alike to me." And, indeed, to a landsman the noddingschooners around seemed run from the same mould."They ain't, though. That yaller, dirty packet with her bowspritsteeved that way, she's the 'Hope of Prague'. Nick Brady's herskipper, the meanest man on the Banks. We'll tell him so when westrike the Main Ledge. 'Way off yander's the 'Day's Eye'. The twoJeraulds own her. She's from Harwich; fastish, too, an' hez goodluck; but dad he'd find fish in a graveyard. Them other three,side along, they're the 'Margie Smith', 'Rose', and 'Edith S.Walen', all frum home. 'Guess we'll see the 'Abbie M. Deering' to-morrer, dad, won't we? They're all slippin' over from the shoal o''Queereau.""You won't see many boats to-morrow, Danny." When Troop called hisson Danny, it was a sign that the old man was pleased. "Boys,we're too crowded," he went on, addressing the crew as theyclambered inboard. "We'll leave 'em to bait big an' catch small."He looked at the catch in the pen, and it was curious to see howlittle and level the fish ran. Save for Harvey's halibut, therewas nothing over fifteen pounds on deck."I'm waitin' on the weather," he added."Ye'll have to make it yourself, Disko, for there's no sign I cansee," said Long Jack, sweeping the clear horizon.And yet, half an hour later, as they were dressing-down, the Bankfog dropped on them, "between fish and fish," as they say. Itdrove steadily and in wreaths, curling and smoking along thecolourless water. The men stopped dressing-down without a word.Long Jack and Uncle Salters slipped the windlass-brakes into theirsockets, and began to heave up the anchor, the windlass jarring asthe wet hempen cable strained on the barrel. Manuel and Tom Plattgave a hand at the last. The anchor came up with a sob, and theriding-sail bellied as Troop steadied her at the wheel. "Up jiband foresail," said he."Slip 'em in the smother," shouted Long Jack, making fast the jib-sheet, while the others raised the clacking, rattling rings of theforesail; and the fore-boom creaked as the "We're Here" looked upinto the wind and dived off into blank, whirling white."There's wind behind this fog," said Troop.It was all wonderful beyond words to Harvey; and the mostwonderful part was that he heard no orders except an occasionalgrunt from Troop, ending with, "That's good, my son!""'Never seen anchor weighed before?" said Tom Platt, to Harveygaping at the damp canvas of the foresail."No. Where are we going?""Fish and make berth, as you'll find out 'fore you've bin a weekaboard. It's all new to you, but we never know what may come tous. Now, take me - Tom Platt - I'd never ha' thought -""It's better than fourteen dollars a month an' a bullet in yourbelly," said Troop, from the wheel. "Ease your jumbo a grind.""Dollars an' cents better," returned the man-o'-war's man, doingsomething to a big jib with a wooden spar tied to it. "But wedidn't think o' that when we manned the windlass-brakes on the'Miss Jim Buck',1 outside Beaufort Harbor, with Fort Macon heavin'hot shot at our stern, an' a livin' gale atop of all. Where wasyou then, Disko?""Jest here, or hereabouts," Disko replied, "earnin' my bread onthe deep waters, and dodgin' Reb privateers. 'Sorry I can'taccommodate you with red-hot shot, Tom Platt; but I guess we'llcome aout all right on wind 'fore we see Eastern Point."There was an incessant slapping and chatter at the bows now,varied by a solid thud and a little spout of spray that clattereddown on the fo'c'sle. The rigging dripped clammy drops, and themen lounged along the lee of the house - all save Uncle Salters,who sat stiffly on the main-hatch nursing his stung hands.1 The Gemsbok, U. S. N.?"'Guess she'd carry stays'l," said Disko, rolling one eye at hisbrother."Guess she wouldn't to any sorter profit. What's the sense o'wastin' canvas?" the farmer-sailor replied.The wheel twitched almost imperceptibly in Disko's hands. A fewseconds later a hissing wave-top slashed diagonally across theboat, smote Uncle Salters between the shoulders, and drenched himfrom head to foot. He rose sputtering, and went forward, only tocatch another."See dad chase him, all around the deck," said Dan. "Uncle Saltershe thinks his quarter-share's our canvas. Dad's put this duckin'act up on him two trips runnin'. Hi! That found him where hefeeds." Uncle Salters had taken refuge by the foremast, but a waveslapped him over the knees. Disko's face was as blank as thecircle of the wheel."'Guess she'd lie easier under stays'l, Salters," said Disko, asthough he had seen nothing."Set your old kite, then," roared the victim, through a cloud ofspray; "only don't lay it to me if anything happens. Penn, you gobelow right off an' git your coffee. You ought to hev more sensethan to bum araound on deck this weather.""Now they'll swill coffee an' play checkers till the cows comehome," said Dan, as Uncle Salters hustled Penn into the fore-cabin. "'Looks to me like's if we'd all be doin' so fer a spell.There's nothin' in creation deader-limpsey-idler'n a Banker whenshe ain't on fish.""I'm glad ye spoke, Danny," cried Long Jack, who had been castinground in search of amusement. "I'd clean forgot we'd a passengerunder that T-wharf hat. There's no idleness for thim that don'tknow their ropes. Pass him along, Tom Platt, an' we'll l'arn him.""'Tain't my trick this time," grinned Dan. "You've got to go italone. Dad learned me with a rope's end."For an hour Long Jack walked his prey up and down, teaching, as hesaid, "things at the sea that ivry man must know, blind, dhrunk,or asleep." There is not much gear to a seventy-ton schooner witha stump-foremast, but Long Jack had a gift of expression. When hewished to draw Harvey's attention to the peak-halyards, he dug hisknuckles into the back of the boy's neck and kept him at gaze forhalf a minute. He emphasised the difference between fore and aftgenerally by rubbing Harvey's nose along a few feet of the boom,and the lead of each rope was fixed in Harvey's mind by the end ofthe rope itself.The lesson would have been easier had the deck been at all free;but there appeared to be a place on it for everything and anythingexcept a man. Forward lay the windlass and its tackle, with thechain and hemp cables, all very unpleasant to trip over; thefo'c'sle stovepipe, and the gurry-butts by the fo'c'sle-hatch tohold the fish-livers. Aft of these the fore-boom and booby of themain-hatch took all the space that was not needed for the pumpsand dressing-pens. Then came the nests of dories lashed to ring-bolts by the quarter-deck; the house, with tubs and oddmentslashed all around it; and, last, the sixty-foot main-boom in itscrutch, splitting things lengthwise, to duck and dodge under everytime.Tom Platt, of course, could not keep his oar out of the business,but ranged alongside with enormous and unnecessary descriptions ofsails and spars on the old Ohio."Niver mind fwhat he says; attind to me, Innocince. Tom Platt,this bally-hoo's not the Ohio, an' you're mixing the bhoy bad.""He'll be ruined for life, beginnin' on a fore-an'-after thisway," Tom Platt pleaded. "Give him a chance to know a few leadin'principles. Sailin's an art, Harvey, as I'd show you if I had yein the foretop o' the -""I know ut. Ye'd talk him dead an' cowld. Silince, Tom Platt! Now,after all I've said, how'd you reef the foresail, Harve'? Takeyour time answerin'.""Haul that in," said Harvey, pointing to leeward."Fwhat? The North Atlantuc?""No, the boom. Then run that rope you showed me back there -""That's no way," Tom Platt burst in."Quiet! He's l'arnin', an' has not the names good yet. Go on,Harve.""Oh, it's the reef-pennant. I'd hook the tackle on to the reef-pennant, and then let down -""Lower the sail, child! Lower!" said Tom Platt, in a professionalagony."Lower the throat-and peak-halyards," Harvey went on. Those namesstuck in his head."Lay your hand on thim," said Long Jack.Harvey obeyed. "Lower till that rope-loop - on the after-leach -kris - no, it's cringle - till the cringle was down on the boom.Then I'd tie her up the way you said, and then I'd hoist up thepeak-and throat-halyards again.""You've forgot to pass the tack-earing, but wid time and helpye'll l'arn. There's good and just reason for ivry rope aboard, orelse 'twould be overboard. D'ye follow me? 'Tis dollars an' centsI'm puttin' into your pocket, ye skinny little supercargo, so thatfwhin ye've filled out ye can ship from Boston to Cuba an' tellthim Long Jack l'arned you. Now I'll chase ye around a piece,callin' the ropes, an' you'll lay your hand on thim as I call."He began, and Harvey, who was feeling rather tired, walked slowlyto the rope named. A rope's end licked round his ribs, and nearlyknocked the breath out of him."When you own a boat," said Tom Platt, with severe eyes, "you canwalk. Till then, take all orders at the run. Once more - to makesure!"Harvey was in a glow with the exercise, and this last cut warmedhim thoroughly. Now, he was a singularly smart boy, the son of avery clever man and a very sensitive woman, with a fine resolutetemper that systematic spoiling had nearly turned to mulishobstinacy. He looked at the other men, and saw that even Dan didnot smile. It was evidently all in the day's work, though it hurtabominably; so he swallowed the hint with a gulp and a gasp and agrin. The same smartness that led him to take such advantage ofhis mother made him very sure that no one on the boat, except,maybe, Penn, would stand the least nonsense. One learns a greatdeal from a mere tone. Long Jack called over half a dozen moreropes, and Harvey danced over the deck like an eel at ebb-tide,one eye on Tom Platt."Ver' good. Ver' good done," said Manuel. "After supper I show youa little schooner I make, with all her ropes. So we shall learn.""Fust-class fer - a passenger," said Dan. "Dad he's jest allowedyou'll be wuth your salt maybe 'fore you're draownded. Thet's aheap fer dad. I'll learn you more our next watch together.""Taller!" grunted Disko, peering through the fog as it smoked overthe bows. There was nothing to be seen ten feet beyond the surgingjib-boom, while alongside rolled the endless procession of solemn,pale waves whispering and upping one to the other."Now I'll learn you something Long Jack can't," shouted Tom Platt,as from a locker by the stern he produced a battered deep-sea leadhollowed at one end, smeared the hollow from a saucer full ofmutton tallow, and went forward. "I'll learn you how to fly theBlue Pigeon. Shooo!"Disko did something to the wheel that checked the schooner's way,while Manuel, with Harvey to help (and a proud boy was Harvey),let down the jib in a lump on the boom. The lead sung a deepdroning song as Tom Platt whirled it round and round."Go ahead, man," said Long Jack, impatiently. "We're not drawin'twenty-five fut off Fire Island in a fog. There's no trick to ut.""Don't be jealous, Galway." The released lead plopped into the seafar ahead as the schooner surged slowly forward."Soundin' is a trick, though," said Dan, "when your dipsey lead'sall the eye you're like to hev for a week. What d'you make it,dad?"Disko's face relaxed. His skill and honour were involved in themarch he had stolen on the rest of the fleet, and he had hisreputation as a master artist who knew the Banks blindfold."Sixty, mebbe - ef I'm any judge," he replied, with a glance atthe tiny compass in the window of the house."Sixty," sung out Tom Platt, hauling in great wet coils.The schooner gathered way once more. "Heave!" said Disko, after aquarter of an hour."What d'you make it?" Dan whispered, and he looked at Harveyproudly. But Harvey was too proud of his own performances to beimpressed just then."Fifty," said the father. "I mistrust we're right over the nick o'Green Bank on old Sixty-Fifty.""Fifty!" roared Tom Platt. They could scarcely see him through thefog. "She's bu'st within a yard - like the shells at Fort Macon.""Bait up, Harve," said Dan, diving for a line on the reel.The schooner seemed to be straying promiscuously through thesmother, her head-sail banging wildly. The men waited and lookedat the boys, who began fishing."Heugh!" Dan's lines twitched on the scored and scarred rail. "Nowhaow in thunder did dad know? Help us here, Harve. It's a big un.Poke-hooked, too." They hauled together, and landed a goggle-eyedtwenty-pound cod. He had taken the bait right into his stomach."Why, he's all covered with little crabs," cried Harvey, turninghim over."By the great hook-block, they're lousy already," said Long Jack."Disko, ye kape your spare eyes under the keel."Splash went the anchor, and they all heaved over the lines, eachman taking his own place at the bulwarks."Are they good to eat?" Harvey panted, as he lugged in anothercrab-covered cod."Sure. When they're lousy it's a sign they've all been herdin'together by the thousand, and when they take the bait that waythey're hungry. Never mind how the bait sets. They'll bite on thebare hook.""Say, this is great!" Harvey cried, as the fish came in gaspingand splashing -nearly all poke-hooked, as Dan had said. "Why can'twe always fish from the boat instead of from the dories?""Allus can, till we begin to dress-daown. Efter thet, the headsand offals 'u'd scare the fish to Fundy. Boat-fishin' ain'treckoned progressive, though, unless ye know as much as dad knows.Guess we'll run aout aour trawl to-night. Harder on the back,this, than frum the dory, ain't it?"It was rather back-breaking work, for in a dory the weight of acod is water-borne till the last minute, and you are, so to speak,abreast of him; but the few feet of a schooner's free-board makeso much extra dead-hauling, and stooping over the bulwarks crampsthe stomach. But it was wild and furious sport so long as itlasted; and a big pile lay aboard when the fish ceased biting."Where's Penn and Uncle Salters?" Harvey asked, slapping the slimeoff his oilskins, and reeling up the line in careful imitation ofthe others."Git's coffee and see."Under the yellow glare of the lamp on the pawl-post, the fo'c'sletable down and opened, utterly unconscious of fish or weather, satthe two men, a checker-board between them, Uncle Salters snarlingat Penn's every move."What's the matter naow?" said the former, as Harvey, one hand inthe leather loop at the head of the ladder, hung shouting to thecook."Big fish and lousy-heaps and heaps," Harvey replied, quoting LongJack. "How's the game?"Little Penn's jaw dropped. "Tweren't none o' his fault," snappedUncle Salters. "Penn's deef.""Checkers, weren't it?" said Dan, as Harvey staggered aft with thesteaming coffee in a tin pail. "That lets us out o' cleanin' upto-night. Dad's a jest man. They'll have to do it.""An' two young fellers I know'll bait up a tub or so o' trawl,while they're cleanin'," said Disko, lashing the wheel to histaste."Urn! 'Guess I'd ruther clean up, dad.""Don't doubt it. Ye wun't, though. Dress-daown! Dress-daown!Penn'll pitch while you two bait up.""Why in thunder didn't them blame boys tell us you'd struck on?"said Uncle Salters, shuffling to his place at the table. "Thisknife's gum-blunt, Dan.""Ef stickin' out cable don't wake ye, guess you'd better hire aboy o' your own," said Dan, muddling about in the dusk over thetubs full of trawl-line lashed to windward of the house. "Oh,Harve, don't ye want to slip down an' git's bait?""Bait ez we are," said Disko. "I mistrust shag-fishin' will paybetter, ez things go."That meant the boys would bait with selected offal of the cod asthe fish were cleaned - an improvement on paddling barehanded inthe little bait-barrels below. The tubs were full of neatly coiledline carrying a big hook each few feet; and the testing andbaiting of every single hook, with the stowage of the baited lineso that it should run clear when shot from the dory, was ascientific business. Dan managed it in the dark without looking,while Harvey caught his fingers on the barbs and bewailed hisfate. But the hooks flew through Dan's fingers like tatting on anold maid's lap. "I helped bait up trawl ashore 'fore I could wellwalk," he said. "But it's a putterin' job all the same. Oh, dad!"This shouted towards the hatch, where Disko and Tom Platt weresalting. "How many skates you reckon we'll need?""Baout three. Hurry!""There's three hundred fathom to each tub," Dan explained; "more'nenough to lay out tonight. Ouch! 'Slipped up there, I did." Hestuck his finger in his mouth. "I tell you, Harve, there ain'tmoney in Gloucester'u'd hire me to ship on a reg'lar trawler. Itmay be progressive, but, barrin' that, it's the putterin'est,slimjammest business top of earth.""I don't know what this is, if 'tisn't regular trawling," saidHarvey, sulkily. "My fingers are all cut to frazzles.""Pshaw! This is jest one o' dad's blame experiments. He don'ttrawl 'less there's mighty good reason fer it. Dad knows. Thet'swhy he's baitin' ez he is. We'll hev her saggin' full when we takeher up er we won't see a fin."Penn and Uncle Salters cleaned up as Disko had ordained, but theboys profited little. No sooner were the tubs furnished than TomPlatt and Long Jack, who had been exploring the inside of a dorywith a lantern, snatched them away, loaded up the tubs and somesmall, painted trawl-buoys, and hove the boat overboard into whatHarvey regarded as an exceedingly rough sea. "They'll be drowned.Why, the dory's loaded like a freight-car," he cried."We'll be back," said Long Jack, "an' in case you'll not belookin' for us, we'll lay into you both if the trawl's snarled."The dory surged up on the crest of a wave, and just when it seemedimpossible that she could avoid smashing against the schooner'sside, slid over the ridge, and was swallowed up in the damp dusk."Take a-hold here, an' keep ringin' steady," said Dan, passingHarvey the lanyard of a bell that hung just behind the windlass.Harvey rang lustily, for he felt two lives depended on him. ButDisko in the cabin, scrawling in the log-book, did not look like amurderer, and when he went to supper he even smiled drily at theanxious Harvey."This ain't no weather," said Dan. "Why, you an' me could set thettrawl! They've only gone out jest far 'nough so's not to foul ourcable. They don't need no bell reelly.""Clang! cling! clang!" Harvey kept it up, varied with occasionalrub-a-dubs, for another half-hour. There was a bellow and a bumpalongside. Manuel and Dan raced to the hooks of the dory-tackle;Long Jack and Tom Platt arrived on deck together, it seemed, onehalf the North Atlantic at their backs, and the dory followed themin the air, landing with a clatter."Nary snarl," said Tom Platt, as he dripped. "Danny, you'll doyet.""The pleasure av your comp'ny to the banquit," said Long Jack,squelching the water from his boots as he capered like an elephantand stuck an oilskinned arm into Harvey's face. "We do becondescending to honour the second half wid our presence." And offthey all four rolled to supper, where Harvey stuffed himself tothe brim on fish-chowder and fried pies, and fell fast asleep justas Manuel produced from a locker a lovely two-foot model of theLucy Holmes, his first boat, and was going to show Harvey theropes. Harvey never even twiddled his fingers as Penn pushed himinto his bunk."It must be a sad thing - a very sad thing," said Penn, watchingthe boy's face, "for his mother and his father, who think he isdead. To lose a child - to lose a man-child!""Git out o' this, Penn," said Dan. "Go aft and finish your gamewith Uncle Salters. Tell dad I'll stand Harve's watch ef he don'tkeer. He's played aout.""Ver' good boy," said Manuel, slipping out of his boots anddisappearing into the black shadows of the lower bunk. "Expec' hemake good man, Danny. I no see he is any so mad as your parpa hesays. Eh, wha-at?"Dan chuckled, but the chuckle ended in a snore.It was thick weather outside, with a rising wind, and the eldermen stretched their watches. The hours struck clear in the cabin;the nosing bows slapped and scuffled with the seas; the fo'c'slestovepipe hissed and sputtered as the spray caught it; and theboys slept on, while Disko, Long Jack, Tom Plait, and UncleSalters, each in turn, stumped aft to look at the wheel, forwardto see that the anchor held, or to veer out a little more cableagainst chafing, with a glance at the dim anchor-light betweeneach round.