Part 5 (2/2)
Fife, ten, twenty-fife more fish than come he say there was”
”Where was that?” said Dan ”None o' aour folk”
”Frenchuille”
”Ah! Them West Shore Frenchmen don't caount, anyway Stands to reason they can't caount Ef you run acrost any of their soft hooks, Harvey, you'll knohy,” said Dan, with an awful contempt
”AlwaysJack roared down the hatch, and the ”second ha'af” scra, with the never-furled riding-sail, rolled to and fro on the heaving deck in the ht; and the pile of fish by the stern shone like a dus and ru the salt-bins Dan passed Harvey a pitchfork, and led hih table, where Uncle Salters was dru impatiently with a knife-haft A tub of salt water lay at his feet
”You pitch to dad an' Tom Platt down the hatch, an' take keer Uncle Salters don't cut yer eye out,” said Dan, swinging himself into the hold ”I'll pass salt below”
Penn and Manuel stood knee-deep a Jack, a basket at his feet and mittens on his hands, faced Uncle Salters at the table, and Harvey stared at the pitchfork and the tub
”Hi!” shouted Manuel, stooping to the fish, and bringing one up with a finger under its gill and a finger in its eye He laid it on the edge of the pen; the knife-blade gli, and the fish, slit from throat to vent, with a nick on either side of the neck, dropped at Long Jack's feet
”Hi!” said Long Jack, with a scoop of his mittened hand The cod's liver dropped in the basket Another wrench and scoop sent the head and offal flying, and the empty fish slid across to Uncle Salters, who snorted fiercely There was another sound of tearing, the backbone flew over the bulwarks, and the fish, headless, gutted, and open, splashed in the tub, sending the salt water into Harvey's astonished mouth
After the first yell, the h they were alive, and long ere Harvey had ceased wondering at the miraculous dexterity of it all, his tub was full
”Pitch!” grunted Uncle Salters, without turning his head, and Harvey pitched the fish by twos and threes down the hatch
”Hi! Pitch 'em bunchy,” shouted Dan ”Don't scatter! Uncle Salters is the best splitter in the fleet Watch hih the round uncle were cutting ainst time Manuel's body, cra ar Little Penn toiled valiantly, but it was easy to see he eak Once or twice Manuel found ti the chain of supplies, and once Manuel howled because he had caught his finger in a Frenchman's hook These hooks are made of soft et aith theain elsewhere; and that is one of the many reasons why the Gloucester boats despise the Frenchh salt rubbed on rough flesh sounded like the whirring of a grindstone--a steady undertune to the ”click-nick” of the knives in the pen; the wrench and schloop of torn heads, dropped liver, and flying offal; the ”caraaah” of Uncle Salters's knife scooping away backbones; and the flap of wet, opened bodies falling into the tub
At the end of an hour Harvey would have given the world to rest; for fresh, wet cod weigh more than you would think, and his back ached with the steady pitching But he felt for the first ti of ht, and held on sullenly
”Knife oh!” shouted Uncle Salters, at last Penn doubled up, gasping a the fish, Manuel bowed back and forth to supple hi Jack leaned over the bulwarks The cook appeared, noiseless as a black shadow, collected a mass of backbones and heads, and retreated
”Blood-ends for breakfast an' head-chowder,” said Long Jack, s his lips
”Knife oh!” repeated Uncle Salters, waving the flat, curved splitter's weapon
”Look by your foot, Harve,” cried Dan, below
Harvey saw half a dozen knives stuck in a cleat in the hatch co over the dulled ones
”Water!” said Disko Troop
”Scuttle-butt's for'ard, an' the dipper's alongside Hurry, Harve,”
said Dan