Chapter 8

by Rudyard Kipling

　　To the end of his days, Harvey will never forget that sight. Thesun was just clear of the horizon they had not seen for nearly aweek, and his low red light struck into the riding-sails of threefleets of anchored schooners - one to the north, one to thewestward, and one to the south. There must have been nearly ahundred of them, of every possible make and build, with, far away,a square-rigged Frenchman, all bowing and courtesying one to theother. From every boat dories were dropping away like bees from acrowded hive; and the clamour of voices, the rattling of ropes andblocks, and the splash of the oars carried for miles across theheaving water. The sails turned all colours, black, pearly-grey,and white, as the sun mounted; and more boats swung up through themists to the southward.The dories gathered in clusters, separated, reformed, and brokeagain, all heading one way; while men hailed and whistled and cat-called and sang, and the water was speckled with rubbish thrownoverboard."It's a town," said Harvey. "Disko was right. It is a town!""I've seen smaller," said Disko. "There's about a thousand menhere; an' yonder's the Virgin." He pointed to a vacant space ofgreenish sea, where there were no dories.The "We're Here" skirted round the northern squadron, Disko wavinghis hand to friend after friend, and anchored as neatly as aracing yacht at the end of the season. The Bank fleet pass goodseamanship in silence; but a bungler is jeered all along the line."Jest in time fer the caplin," cried the Mary Chilton."'Salt 'most wet?" asked the King Philip."Hey, Tom Platt! Come t' supper to-night?" said the Henry Clay;and so questions and answers flew back and forth. Men had met oneanother before, dory-fishing in the fog, and there is no place forgossip like the Bank fleet. They all seemed to know about Harvey'srescue, and asked if he were worth his salt yet. The young bloodsjested with Dan, who had a lively tongue of his own, and inquiredafter their health by the town - nicknames they least liked.Manuel's countrymen jabbered at him in their own language; andeven the silent cook was seen riding the jib-boom and shoutingGaelic to a friend as black as himself. After they had buoyed thecable - all around the Virgin is rocky bottom, and carelessnessmeans chafed ground-tackle and danger from drifting - after theyhad buoyed the cable, their dories went forth to join the mob ofboats anchored about a mile away. The schooners rocked and dippedat a safe distance, like mother ducks watching their brood, whilethe dories behaved like mannerless ducklings.As they drove into the confusion, boat banging boat, Harvey's earstingled at the comments on his rowing. Every dialect from Labradorto Long Island, with Portuguese, Neapolitan, Lingua Franca,French, and Gaelic, with songs and shoutings and new oaths,rattled round him, and he seemed to be the butt of it all. For thefirst time in his life he felt shy - perhaps that came from livingso long with only the "We're Heres" - among the scores of wildfaces that rose and fell with the reeling small craft. A gentle,breathing swell, three furlongs from trough to barrel, wouldquietly shoulder up a string of variously painted dories. Theyhung for an instant, a wonderful frieze against the sky-line, andtheir men pointed and hailed, Next moment the open mouths, wavingarms, and bare chests disappeared, while on another swell came upan entirely new line of characters like paper figures in a toytheatre. So Harvey stared. "Watch out!" said Dan, flourishing adip-net. "When I tell you dip, you dip. The caplin'll school anytime from naow on. Where'll we lay, Tom Platt?"Pushing, shoving, and hauling, greeting old friends here andwarning old enemies there, Commodore Tom Platt led his littlefleet well to leeward of the general crowd, and immediately threeor four men began to haul on their anchors with intent to lee-bowthe "We're Heres". But a yell of laughter went up as a dory shotfrom her station with exceeding speed, its occupant pulling madlyon the roding."Give her slack!" roared twenty voices. "Let him shake it out.""What's the matter?" said Harvey, as the boat flashed away to thesouthward. "He's anchored, isn't he?""Anchored, sure enough, but his graound-tackle's kinder shifty,"said Dan, laughing. "Whale's fouled it. . . . Dip, Harve! Herethey come!"The sea round them clouded and darkened, and then frizzed up inshowers of tiny silver fish, and over a space of five or six acresthe cod began to leap like trout in May; while behind the codthree or four broad grey-black backs broke the water into boils.Then everybody shouted and tried to haul up his anchor to getamong the school, and fouled his neighbour's line and said whatwas in his heart, and dipped furiously with his dip-net, andshrieked cautions and advice to his companions, while the deepfizzed like freshly opened soda-water, and cod, men, and whalestogether flung in upon the luckless bait. Harvey was nearlyknocked overboard by the handle of Dan's net. But in all the wildtumult he noticed, and never forgot, the wicked, set little eye -something like a circus elephant's eye - of a whale that drovealong almost level with the water, and, so he said, winked at him.Three boats found their rodings fouled by these reckless mid-seahunters, and were towed half a mile ere their horses shook theline free.Then the caplin moved off and five minutes later there was nosound except the splash of the sinkers overside, the flapping ofthe cod, and the whack of the muckles as the men stunned them. Itwas wonderful fishing. Harvey could see the glimmering cod below,swimming slowly in droves, biting as steadily as they swam. Banklaw strictly forbids more than one hook on one line when thedories are on the Virgin or the Eastern Shoals; but so close laythe boats that even single hooks snarled, and Harvey found himselfin hot argument with a gentle, hairy Newfoundlander on one sideand a howling Portuguese on the other.Worse than any tangle of fishing-lines was the confusion of thedory-rodings below water. Each man had anchored where it seemedgood to him, drifting and rowing round his fixed point. As thefish struck on less quickly, each man wanted to haul up and get tobetter ground; but every third man found himself intimatelyconnected with some four or five neighbours. To cut another'sroding is crime unspeakable on the Banks; yet it was done, anddone without detection, three or four times that day. Tom Plattcaught a Maine man in the black act and knocked him over thegunwale with an oar, and Manuel served a fellow-countryman in thesame way. But Harvey's anchor-line was cut, and so was Penn's, andthey were turned into relief-boats to carry fish to the "We'reHere" as the dories filled. The caplin schooled once more attwilight, when the mad clamour was repeated; and at dusk theyrowed back to dress down by the light of kerosene-lamps on theedge of the pen.It was a huge pile, and they went to sleep while they weredressing. Next day several boats fished right above the cap of theVirgin; and Harvey, with them, looked down on the very weed ofthat lonely rock, which rises to within twenty feet of thesurface. The cod were there in legions, marching solemnly over theleathery kelp. When they bit, they bit all together; and so whenthey stopped. There was a slack time at noon, and the dories beganto search for amusement. It was Dan who sighted the Hope of Praguejust coming up, and as her boats joined the company they weregreeted with the question: "Who's the meanest man in the Fleet?"Three hundred voices answered cheerily:"Nick Bra-ady." It sounded an organ chant."Who stole the lamp-wicks?" That was Dan's contribution."Nick Bra-ady," sang the boats."Who biled the salt bait fer soup?" This was an unknown backbitera quarter of a mile away.Again the joyful chorus. Now, Brady was not especially mean, buthe had that reputation, and the Fleet made the most of it. Thenthey discovered a man from a Truro boat who, six years before, hadbeen convicted of using a tackle with five or six hooks - a"scrowger," they call it - on the Shoals. Naturally, he had beenchristened "Scrowger Jim "; and though he had hidden himself onthe Georges ever since, he found his honours waiting for him fullblown. They took it up in a sort of fire-cracker chorus: "Jim! 0Jim! Jim! O Jim! Sssscrowger Jim!" That pleased everybody. Andwhen a poetical Beverly man - he had been making it up all day,and talked about it for weeks - sang, "The Carrie Pitman's anchordoesn't hold her for a cent!" the dories felt that they wereindeed fortunate. Then they had to ask that Beverly man how he wasoff for beans, because even poets must not have things all theirown way. Every schooner and nearly every man got it in turn. Wasthere a careless or dirty cook anywhere? The dories sang about himand his food. Was a schooner badly found? The Fleet was told atfull length. Had a man hooked tobacco from a messmate? He wasnamed in meeting; the name tossed from roller to roller. Disko'sinfallible judgments, Long Jack's market-boat that he had soldyears ago, Dan's sweetheart (oh, but Dan was an angry boy!),Penn's bad luck with dory-anchors, Salters's views on manure,Manuel's little slips from virtue ashore, and Harvey's ladylikehandling of the oar - all were laid before the public; and as thefog fell around them in silvery sheets beneath the sun, the voicessounded like a bench of invisible judges pronouncing sentence.The dories roved and fished and squabbled till a swell underranthe sea. Then they drew more apart to save their sides, and someone called that if the swell continued the Virgin would break. Areckless Galway man with his nephew denied this, hauled up anchor,and rowed over the very rock itself. Many voices called them tocome away, while others dared them to hold on. As the smooth-backed rollers passed to the south-ward, they hove the dory highand high into the mist, and dropped her in ugly, sucking, dimpledwater, where she spun round her anchor, within a foot or two ofthe hidden rock. It was playing with death for mere bravado; andthe boats looked on in uneasy silence till Long Jack rowed upbehind his countrymen and quietly cut their roding."Can't ye hear ut knockin'?" he cried. "Pull for your miserablelives! Pull!"The men swore and tried to argue as the boat drifted; but the nextswell checked a little, like a man tripping on a carpet. There wasa deep sob and a gathering roar, and the Virgin flung up a coupleof acres of foaming water, white, furious, and ghastly over theshoal sea. Then all the boats greatly applauded Long Jack, and theGalway men held their tongue."Ain't it elegant?" said Dan, bobbing like a young seal at home."She'll break about once every ha'af hour now, 'less the swellpiles up good. What's her reg'lar time when she's at work, TomPlatt?""Once ivry fifteen minutes, to the tick. Harve, you've seen thegreatest thing on the Banks; an' but for Long Jack you'd seen somedead men too."There came a sound of merriment where the fog lay thicker and theschooners were ringing their bells. A big bark nosed cautiouslyout of the mist, and was received with shouts and cries of, "Comealong, darlin'," from the Irishry."Another Frenchman?" said Harvey."Hain't you eyes? She's a Baltimore boat; goin' in fear an'tremblin'," said Dan. "We'll guy the very sticks out of her.'Guess it's the fust time her skipper ever met up with the Fleetthis way."She was a black, buxom, eight-hundred-ton craft. Her mainsail waslooped up, and her topsail flapped undecidedly in what little windwas moving. Now a bark is feminine beyond all other daughters ofthe sea, and this tall, hesitating creature, with her white andgilt figurehead, looked just like a bewildered woman half liftingher skirts to cross a muddy street under the jeers of bad littleboys. That was very much her situation. She knew she was somewherein the neighbourhood of the Virgin, had caught the roar of it, andwas, therefore, asking her way. This is a small part of what sheheard from the dancing dories:"The Virgin? Fwhat are you talk in' of'? This is Le Have on aSunday mornin'. Go home an' sober up.""Go home, ye tarrapin! Go home an' tell 'em we're comin'."Half a dozen voices together, in a most tuneful chorus, as herstern went down with a roll and a bubble into the troughs: "Thay-aah - she -strikes!""Hard up! Hard up fer your life! You're on top of her now.""Daown! Hard daown! Let go everything!""All hands to the pumps!""Daown jib an' pole her!"Here the skipper lost his temper and said things. Instantlyfishing was suspended to answer him, and he heard many curiousfacts about his boat and her next port of call. They asked him ifhe were insured; and whence he had stolen his anchor, because,they said, it belonged to the Carrie Pitman; they called his boata mud-scow, and accused him of dumping garbage to frighten thefish; they offered to tow him and charge it to his wife; and oneaudacious youth slipped almost under the counter, smacked it withhis open palm, and yelled: "Gid up, Buck!"The cook emptied a pan of ashes on him, and he replied with cod-heads. The bark's crew fired small coal from the galley, and thedories threatened to come aboard and "razee" her. They would havewarned her at once had she been in real peril; but, seeing herwell clear of the Virgin, they made the most of their chances. Thefun was spoilt when the rock spoke again, a half-mile to windward,and the tormented bark set everything that would draw and went herways; but the dories felt that the honours lay with them.All that night the Virgin roared hoarsely and next morning, overan angry, white-headed sea, Harvey saw the Fleet with flickeringmasts waiting for a lead. Not a dory was hove out till teno'clock, when the two Jeraulds of the Day's Eye, imagining a lullwhich did not exist, set the example. In a minute half the boatswere out and bobbing in the cockly swells, but Troop kept the"We're Heres" at work dressing-down. He saw no sense in "dares";and as the storm grew that evening they had the pleasure ofreceiving wet strangers only too glad to make any refuge in thegale. The boys stood by the dory-tackles with lanterns, the menready to haul, one eye cocked for the sweeping wave that wouldmake them drop everything and hold on for the dear life. Out ofthe dark would come a yell of "Dory, dory!" They would hook up andhaul in a drenched man and a half-sunk boat, till their decks werelittered down with nests of dories and the bunks were full. Fivetimes in their watch did Harvey, with Dan, jump at the foregaffwhere it lay lashed on the boom, and cling with arms, legs, andteeth to rope and spar and sodden canvas as a big wave filled thedecks. One dory was smashed to pieces, and the sea pitched the manhead first on to the decks, cutting his forehead open; and aboutdawn, when the racing seas glimmered white all along their coldedges, another man, blue and ghastly, crawled in with a brokenhand, asking news of his brother. Seven extra mouths sat down tobreakfast: a Swede; a Chatham skipper; a boy from Hancock, Maine;one Duxbury, and three Provincetown men.There was a general sorting out among the Fleet next day; andthough no one said anything, all ate with better appetites whenboat after boat reported full crews aboard. Only a couple ofPortuguese and an old man from Gloucester were drowned, but manywere cut or bruised; and two schooners had parted their tackle andbeen blown to the southward, three days' sail. A man died on aFrenchman - it was the same bark that had traded tobacco with the"We're Heres". She slipped away quite quietly one wet, whitemorning, moved to a patch of deep water, her sails all hanginganyhow, and Harvey saw the funeral through Disko's spy-glass. Itwas only an oblong bundle slid overside. They did not seem to haveany form of service, but in the night, at anchor, Harvey heardthem across the star-powdered black water, singing something thatsounded like a hymn. It went to a very slow tune.La brigantine

　　Qui va tourner,

　　Roule et s'incline

　　Pour m'entrainer.

　　Oh, Vierge Marie,

　　Pour moi priez Dieu!

　　Adieu, patrie;

　　Qubec, adieu!Tom Platt visited her, because, he said, the dead man was hisbrother as a Freemason. It came out that a wave had doubled thepoor fellow over the heel of the bowsprit and broken his back. Thenews spread like a flash, for, contrary to general custom, theFrenchman held an auction of the dead man's kit, - he had nofriends at St. Malo or Miquelon, - and everything was spread outon the top of the house, from his red knitted cap to the leatherbelt with the sheath-knife at the back. Dan and Harvey were out ontwenty-fathom water in the Hattie S., and naturally rowed over tojoin the crowd. It was a long pull, and they stayed some littletime while Dan bought the knife, which had a curious brass handle.When they dropped overside and pushed off into a drizzle of rainand a lop of sea, it occurred to them that they might get intotrouble for neglecting the lines."Guess 'twon't hurt us any to be warmed up," said Dan, shiveringunder his oilskins, and they rowed on into the heart of a whitefog, which, as usual, dropped on them without warning."There's too much blame tide hereabouts to trust to yourinstinks," he said. "Heave over the anchor, Harve, and we'll fisha piece till the thing lifts. Bend on your biggest lead. Threepound ain't any too much in this water. See how she's tightened onher rodin' already."There was quite a little bubble at the bows, where someirresponsible Bank current held the dory full stretch on her rope;but they could not see a boat's length in any direction. Harveyturned up his collar and bunched himself over his reel with theair of a wearied navigator. Fog had no special terrors for himnow. They fished awhile in silence, and found the cod struck onwell. Then Dan drew the sheath-knife and tested the edge of it onthe gunwale."That's a daisy," said Harvey. "How did you get it so cheap?""On account o' their blame Cath'lic superstitions," said Dan,jabbing with the bright blade. "They don't fancy takin' iron frumoff of a dead man, so to speak. 'See them Arichat Frenchmen stepback when I bid?""But an auction ain't taking anything off a dead man. It'sbusiness.""We know it ain't, but there's no goin' in the teeth o'superstition. That's one o' the advantages o' livin' in aprogressive country." And Dan began whistling:"Oh, Double Thatcher, how are you?

　　Now Eastern Point comes inter view.

　　The girls an' boys we soon shall see,

　　At anchor off Cape Ann!""Why didn't that Eastport man bid, then? He bought his boots.Ain't Maine progressive?""Maine? Pshaw! They don't know enough, or they hain't got moneyenough, to paint their haouses in Maine. I've seen 'em. TheEastport man he told me that the knife had been used - so theFrench captain told him - used up on the French coast last year.""Cut a man? Heave's the muckle." Harvey hauled in his fish,rebaited, and threw over."Killed him! 'Course, when I heard that I was keener 'n ever toget it.""Christmas! I didn't know it," said Harvey, turning round. "I'llgive you a dollar for it when I - get my wages. Say, I'll give youtwo dollars.""Honest? D'you like it as much as all that?" said Dan, flushing."Well, to tell the truth, I kinder got it for you - to give; but Ididn't let on till I saw how you'd take it. It's yours andwelcome, Harve, because we're dory-mates, and so on and so forth,an' so followin'. Catch a-holt!"He held it out, belt and all."But look at here. Dan, I don't see -""Take it. 'Tain't no use to me. I wish you to hev it."The temptation was irresistible. "Dan, you're a white man," saidHarvey. "I'll keep it as long as I live.""That's good hearin'," said Dan, with a pleasant laugh; and then,anxious to change the subject: "Look's if your line was fast tosomethin'.""Fouled, I guess," said Harve, tugging. Before he pulled up hefastened the belt round him, and with deep delight heard the tipof the sheath click on the thwart. "Concern the thing!" he cried."She acts as though she were on strawberry-bottom. It's all sandhere, ain't it'?"Dan reached over and gave a judgmatic tweak. "Holibut'll act thatway 'f he's sulky. Thet's no strawberry-bottom. Yank her once ortwice. She gives, sure. 'Guess we'd better haul up an' makecertain."They pulled together, making fast at each turn on the cleats, andthe hidden weight rose sluggishly."Prize, oh! Haul!" shouted Dan, but the shout ended in a shrill,double shriek of horror, for out of the sea came - the body of thedead Frenchman buried two days before! The hook had caught himunder the right armpit, and he swayed, erect and horrible, headand shoulders above water. His arms were tied to his side, and -he had no face. The boys fell over each other in a heap at thebottom of the dory, and there they lay while the thing bobbedalongside, held on the shortened line."The tide - the tide brought him!" said Harvey, with quiveringlips, as he fumbled at the clasp of the belt."Oh, Lord! Oh, Harve!" groaned Dan, "be quick. He's come for it.Let him have it. Take it off.""I don't want it! I don't want it!" cried Harvey. "I can't findthe bu-buckle.""Quick, Harve! He's on your line!"Harvey sat up to unfasten the belt, facing the head that had noface under its streaming hair. "He's fast still," he whispered toDan, who slipped out his knife and cut the line, as Harvey flungthe belt far overside. The body shot down with a plop, and Dancautiously rose to his knees, whiter than the fog."He come for it. He come for it. I've seen a stale one hauled upon a trawl and I didn't much care, but he come to us special.""I wish - I wish I hadn't taken the knife. Then he'd have come onyour line.""Dunno as thet would ha' made any differ. We're both scared out o'ten years' growth. Oh, Harve, did ye see his head?""Did I'? I'll never forget it. But look at here, Dan; it couldn'thave been meant. It was only the tide.""Tide! He come for it, Harve. Why, they sunk him six mile tosouth'ard o' the Fleet, an' we're two miles from where she's lyin'now. They told me he was weighted with a fathom an' a half o'chain-cable.""Wonder what he did with the knife - up on the French coast?""Something bad. 'Guess he's bound to take it with him to theJudgment, an' so - What are you doin' with the fish?""Heaving 'em overboard," said Harvey."What for? We sha'n't eat 'em.""I don't care. I had to look at his face while I was takin' thebelt off. You can keep your catch if you like. I've no use formine."Dan said nothing, but threw his fish over again."'Guess it's best to be on the safe side," he murmured at last."I'd give a month's pay if this fog 'u'd lift. Things go abaout ina fog that ye don't see in clear weather - yo-hoes an' hollerersand such like. I'm sorter relieved he come the way he did instido' walkin'. He might ha' walked.""Do-on't, Dan! We're right on top of him now. 'Wish I was safeaboard, bein' pounded by Uncle Salters.""They'll be lookin' fer us in a little. Gimme the tooter." Dantook the tin dinner-horn, but paused before he blew."Go on," said Harvey. "I don't want to stay here all night.""Question is, haow he'd take it. There was a man frum down thecoast told me once he was in a schooner where they darsen't everblow a horn to the dories, becaze the skipper - not the man he waswith, but a captain that had run her five years before - he'ddrownded a boy alongside in a drunk fit; an' ever after, that boyhe'd row alongside too and shout, 'Dory! dory!' with the rest.""Dory! dory!" a muffled voice cried through the fog. They coweredagain, and the horn dropped from Dan's hand."Hold on!" cried Harvey; "it's the cook.""Dunno what made me think o' thet fool tale, either," said Dan."It's the doctor, sure enough.""Dan! Danny! Oooh, Dan! Harve! Harvey! Oooh, Haarveee!""We're here," sung both boys together. They heard oars, but couldsee nothing till the cook, shining and dripping, rowed into them."What iss happened?" said he. "You will be beaten at home.""Thet's what we want. Thet's what we're sufferin' for," said Dan."Anything homey's good enough fer us. We've had kinder depressin'company." As the cook passed them a line, Dan told him the tale."Yess! He come for hiss knife," was all he said at the end.Never had the little rocking "We're Here" looked so deliciouslyhome - like as when the cook, born and bred in fogs, rowed themback to her. There was a warm glow of light from the cabin and asatisfying smell of food forward, and it was heavenly to hearDisko and the others, all quite alive and solid, leaning over therail and promising them a first-class pounding. But the cook was ablack master of strategy. He did not get the dories aboard till hehad given the more striking points of the tale, explaining as hebacked and bumped round the counter how Harvey was the mascot todestroy any possible bad luck. So the boys came overside as ratheruncanny heroes, and every one asked them questions instead ofpounding them for making trouble. Little Penn delivered quite aspeech on the folly of superstitions; but public opinion wasagainst him and in favour of Long Jack, who told the mostexcruciating ghost-stories to nearly midnight. Under thatinfluence no one except Salters and Penn said anything about"idolatry" when the cook put a lighted candle, a cake of flour andwater, and a pinch of salt on a shingle, and floated them outastern to keep the Frenchman quiet in case he was still restless.Dan lit the candle because he had bought the belt, and the cookgrunted and muttered charms as long as he could see the duckingpoint of flame.Said Harvey to Dan, as they turned in after watch: "How aboutprogress and Catholic superstitions?""Huh! I guess I'm as enlightened and progressive as the next man,but when it comes to a dead St. Malo deck-hand scarin' a couple o'pore boys stiff fer the sake of a thirty-cent knife, why, then,the cook can take hold fer all o' me. I mistrust furriners, livin'or dead."Next morning all, except the cook, were rather ashamed of theceremonies, and went to work double tides, speaking gruffly to oneanother.The "We're Here" was racing neck and neck for her last few loadsagainst the "Parry Norman"; and so close was the struggle that theFleet took sides and betted tobacco. All hands worked at the linesor dressing-down till they fell asleep where they stood -beginning before dawn and ending when it was too dark to see. Theyeven used the cook as pitcher, and turned Harvey into the hold topass salt, while Dan helped to dress down. Luckily a "ParryNorman" man sprained his ankle falling down the fo'c'sle, and the"We're Heres" gained. Harvey could not see how one more fish couldbe crammed into her, but Disko and Tom Platt stowed and stowed,and planked the mass down with big stones from the ballast, andthere was always "jest another day's work." Disko did not tellthem when all the salt was wetted. He rolled to the lazarette aftthe cabin and began hauling out the big mainsail. This was at tenin the morning. The riding-sail was down and the main- and topsailwere up by noon, and dories came alongside with letters for home,envying their good fortune. At last she cleared decks, hoisted herflag, - as is the right of the first boat off the Banks, - up-anchored, and began to move. Disko pretended that he wished toaccommodate folk who had not sent in their mail, and so worked hergracefully in and out among the schooners. In reality, that washis little triumphant procession, and for the fifth year runningit showed what kind of mariner he was. Dan's accordion and TomPlatt's fiddle supplied the music of the magic verse you must notsing till all the salt is wet:"Hih! Yih! Yoho!

　　Send your letters raound!

　　All our salt is wetted, an' the anchor's off the graound!

　　Bend, oh, bend your mains'l!, we're back to Yankeeland -

　　With fifteen hunder' quintal,

　　An' fifteen hunder' quintal,

　　'Teen hunder' toppin' quintal,

　　'Twix' old 'Queereau an' Grand."The last letters pitched on deck wrapped round pieces of coal, andthe Gloucester men shouted messages to their wives and womenfolkand owners, while the "We're Here" finished the musical ridethrough the Fleet, her head-sails quivering like a man's hand whenhe raises it to say good-bye.Harvey very soon discovered that the "We're Here", with herriding-sail, strolling from berth to berth, and the "We're Here"headed west by south under home canvas, were two very differentboats. There was a bite and kick to the wheel even in "boy's"weather; he could feel the dead weight in the hold flung forwardmightily across the surges, and the streaming line of bubblesoverside made his eyes dizzy.Disko kept them busy fiddling with the sails; and when those wereflattened like a racing yacht's, Dan had to wait on the bigtopsail, which was put over by hand every time she went about. Inspare moments they pumped, for the packed fish dripped brine,which does not improve a cargo. But since there was no fishing,Harvey had time to look at the sea from another point of view. Thelow-sided schooner was naturally on most intimate terms with hersurroundings. They saw little of the horizon save when she toppeda swell; and usually she was elbowing, fidgeting, and coaxing hersteadfast way through grey, grey-blue, or black hollows lacedacross and across with streaks of shivering foam; or rubbingherself caressingly along the flank of some bigger water-hill. Itwas as if she said: "You wouldn't hurt me, surely? I'm only thelittle 'We're Here'." Then she would slide away chuckling softlyto herself till she was brought up by some fresh obstacle. Thedullest of folk cannot see this kind of thing hour after hourthrough long days without noticing it; and Harvey, being anythingbut dull, began to comprehend and enjoy the dry chorus of wave-tops turning over with a sound of incessant tearing; the hurry ofthe winds working across open spaces and herding the purple-bluecloud-shadows; the splendid upheaval of the red sunrise; thefolding and packing away of the morning mists, wall after wallwithdrawn across the white floors; the salty glare and blaze ofnoon; the kiss of rain falling over thousands of dead, flat squaremiles; the chilly blackening of everything at the day's end; andthe million wrinkles of the sea under the moonlight, when the jib-boom solemnly poked at the low stars, and Harvey went down to geta doughnut from the cook.But the best fun was when the boys were put on the wheel together,Tom Platt within hail, and she cuddled her lee-rail down to thecrashing blue, and kept a little home-made rainbow archingunbroken over her windlass. Then the jaws of the booms whinedagainst the masts, and the sheets creaked, and the sails filledwith roaring; and when she slid into a hollow she trampled like awoman tripped in her own silk dress, and came out, her jib wethalf-way up, yearning and peering for the tall twin-lights ofThatcher's Island.They left the cold grey of the Bank sea, saw the lumber-shipsmaking for Quebec by the Straits of St. Lawrence, with the Jerseysalt-brigs from Spain and Sicily; found a friendly northeaster offArtimon Bank that drove them within view of the East light ofSable Island, - a sight Disko did not linger over, - and stayedwith them past Western and Le Have, to the northern fringe ofGeorge's. From there they picked up the deeper water, and let hergo merrily."Hattie's pulling on the string," Dan confided to Harvey. "Hattiean' ma. Next Sunday you'll be hirin' a boy to throw water on thewindows to make ye go to sleep. 'Guess you'll keep with us tillyour folks come. Do you know the best of gettin' ashore again?""Hot bath'?" said Harvey. His eyebrows were all white with driedspray."That's good, but a night-shirt's better. I've been dreamin' o'night-shirts ever since we bent our mainsail. Ye can wiggle yourtoes then. Ma'll hev a new one fer me, all washed soft. It's home,Harve. It's home! Ye can sense it in the air. We're runnin' intothe aidge of a hot wave naow, an' I can smell the bayberries.Wonder if we'll get in fer supper. Port a trifle."The hesitating sails flapped and lurched in the close air as thedeep smoothed out, blue and oily, round them. When they whistledfor a wind only the rain came in spiky rods, bubbling anddrumming, and behind the rain the thunder and the lightning ofmid-August. They lay on the deck with bare feet and arms, tellingone another what they would order at their first meal ashore; fornow the land was in plain sight. A Gloucester swordfish-boatdrifted alongside, a man in the little pulpit on the bowspritflourishing his harpoon, his bare head plastered down with thewet. "And all's well!" he sang cheerily, as though he were watchon a big liner. "Wouverman's waiting fer you, Disko. What's thenews o' the Fleet?"Disko shouted it and passed on, while the wild summer stormpounded overhead and the lightning flickered along the capes fromfour different quarters at once. It gave the low circle of hillsround Gloucester Harbour, Ten Pound Island, the fish-sheds, withthe broken line of house-roofs, and each spar and buoy on thewater, in blinding photographs that came and went a dozen times tothe minute as the "We're Here" crawled in on half-flood, and thewhistling-buoy moaned and mourned behind her. Then the storm diedout in long, separated, vicious dags of blue-white flame, followedby a single roar like the roar of a mortar-battery, and the shakenair tingled under the stars as it got back to silence."The flag, the flag!" said Disko, suddenly, pointing upward."What is ut?" said Long Jack."Otto! Ha'af mast. They can see us frum shore now.""I'd clean forgot. He's no folk to Gloucester, has he?""Girl he was goin' to be married to this fall.""Mary pity her!" said Long Jack, and lowered the little flag half-mast for the sake of Otto, swept overboard in a gale off Le Havethree months before.Disko wiped the wet from his eyes and led the "We're Here" toWouverman's wharf, giving his orders in whispers, while she swunground moored tugs and night-watchmen hailed her from the ends ofinky-black piers. Over and above the darkness and the mystery ofthe procession, Harvey could feel the land close round him oncemore, with all its thousands of people asleep, and the smell ofearth after rain, and the familiar noise of a switching-enginecoughing to herself in a freight-yard; and all those things madehis heart beat and his throat dry up as he stood by the foresheet.They heard the anchor-watch snoring on a lighthouse-tug, nosedinto a pocket of darkness where a lantern glimmered on eitherside; somebody waked with a grunt, threw them a rope, and theymade fast to a silent wharf flanked with great iron-roofed shedsfull of warm emptiness, and lay there without a sound.Then Harvey sat down by the wheel, and sobbed and sobbed as thoughhis heart would break, and a tall woman who had been sitting on aweigh-scale dropped down into the schooner and kissed Dan once onthe cheek; for she was his mother, and she had seen the "We'reHere" by the lightning-flashes. She took no notice of Harvey tillhe had recovered himself a little and Disko had told her hisstory. Then they went to Disko's house together as the dawn wasbreaking; and until the telegraph office was open and he couldwire to his folk, Harvey Cheyne was perhaps the loneliest boy inall America. But the curious thing was that Disko and Dan seemedto think none the worse of him for crying.Wouverman was not ready for Disko's prices till Disko, sure thatthe "We're Here" was at least a week ahead of any other Gloucesterboat, had given him a few days to swallow them; so all handsplayed about the streets, and Long Jack stopped the Rocky Necktrolley, on principle, as he said, till the conductor let him ridefree. But Dan went about with his freckled nose in the air,bungful of mystery and most haughty to his family."Dan, I'll hev to lay inter you ef you act this way," said Troop,pensively. "Sence we've come ashore this time you've bin a heaptoo fresh.""I'd lay into him naow ef he was mine," said Uncle Salters,sourly. He and Penn boarded with the Troops."Oho!" said Dan, shuffling with the accordion round the back-yard,ready to leap the fence if the enemy advanced. "Dad, you'rewelcome to your own jedgment, but remember I've warned ye. Yourown flesh an' blood ha' warned ye! 'Tain't any o' my fault efyou're mistook, but I'll be on deck to watch ye. An' ez fer yeou,Uncle Salters, Pharaoh's chief butler ain't in it 'longside o'you! You watch aout an' wait. You'll be ploughed under like yourown blamed clover; but me - Dan Troop - I'll flourish like a greenbay-tree because I warn't stuck on my own opinion."Disko was smoking in all his shore dignity and a pair of beautifulcarpet-slippers. "You're gettin' ez crazy as poor Harve. You twogo araound gigglin' an' squinchin' an' kickin' each other underthe table till there's no peace in the haouse," said he."There's goin' to be a heap less - fer some folks," Dan replied."You wait an' see."He and Harvey went out on the trolley to East Gloucester, wherethey tramped through the bayberry-bushes to the lighthouse, andlay down on the big red boulders and laughed themselves hungry.Harvey had shown Dan a telegram, and the two swore to keep silencetill the shell burst."Harve's folk?" said Dan, with an unruffled face after supper."Well, I guess they don't amount to much of anything, or we'd ha'heard frum 'em by naow. His pop keeps a kind o' store out West.Maybe he'll give you's much as five dollars, dad.""What did I tell ye?" said Salters. "Don't sputter over yourvittles, Dan."