Part 7 (2/2)
”It doesn't”It doesn't ” ”What's all this hurrah's-nest for'ard?” said Dan, pointing to a wild tangle of spare oars and dory-roding, all ether by the 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 unwale to hide a s, and, behold, the anchor drew at once
”Haul up, Penn,” he said, laughing, ”er she 'll git stuck again”
They left hi, pathetic blue eyes, and thanking them profusely
”Oh, say, while I think of it, Harve,” said Dan, when they were out of ear-shot, ”Penn ain't quite all caulked He ain't nowise dangerous, but his ive out See?”
”Is that so, or is it one of your father's judgments?” Harvey asked, as he bent to his oars He felt he was learning to handle them more easily
”Dad ain't mistook this time Penn's a sure'nuff loony No, he ain'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 right you orter know He was a Moravian preacher once Jacob Boller wuz his name, dad told me, an' he lived with his wife an' four children somewheres out Pennsylvania way Well, Penn he took his folks along to a Moravian meetin',--caht in Johnstown You've heered talk o' Johnstown?”
Harvey considered ”Yes, I have But I don't knohy It sticks inaccidents--thet's why, Harve Well, that one single night Penn and his folks was to the hotel Johnstoiped 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 'fore he rightly kneas coive out from that on He mistrusted somethin' hed happened up to Johnstown, but for the poor life of him he couldn't remember what, an' he jest drifted araound smilin' an' wonderin' He didn't knohat he was, nor yit what he hed bin, an' thet way he run ag'in' Uncle Salters, as visitin' 'n Allegheny City Ha'af my mother's folks they live scattered inside o' Pennsylvania, an' Uncle Salters he visits araound winters Uncle Salters he kinder adopted Penn, well knohat his trouble wuz; an' he brought hiive hi Penn a farht when the boats bumped Is your Uncle Salters a farh 'tween here an'
Hatt'rus to wash the furrer-mould off'n his boots He's Jest everlastin' far towards sundown, an' set twiddlin' the spigot to the scuttle-butt sa He's thet much farmer Well, Penn an' he they ran the far to a jay froot a heap for it Well, the till, one day, Penn's church he'd belonged to--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 he jest 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 Moravian connection in Pennsylvania or anywheres else Then he come to dad, towin' Penn,--thet o trips back,--an' sez he an' Penn ht the Moravians wouldn't hunt the Banks fer Jacob Boller Dad was agreeable, fer Uncle Salters he'd been fishi+n' off an' on fer thirty years, when he warn't inventin'
patent manures, an' he took quarter-share in the 'We're Here'; an' the trip done Penn so ood, dad made a habit o' takin' him Some day, dad sez, he'll remember his wife an' 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 Uncle Salters he'll heave ye overboard”
”Poor Penn!” ht Uncle Salters cared for hih; we all do,” said Dan ”We ought to ha' give him a tow, but I wanted to tell ye first”
They were close to the schooner now, the other boats a little behind them
”You needn't heave in the dories till after dinner,” said Troop, froht off Fix table, boys!”
”Deeper'n the Whale-deep,” said Dan, with a wink, as he set the gear for dressing-down ”Look at theed up sence mornin'
They're all waitin' on dad See 'em, Harve?”
”They are all alike toschooners around seeh That yaller, dirty packet with her bowsprit steeved that way, she's the 'Hope of Prague' Nick Brady's her skipper, the meanest man on the Banks We'll tell hie 'Way off yander's the 'Day's Eye' The two Jeraulds own her
She's froood luck; but dad he'd find fish in a graveyard Theie Smith', 'Rose', and 'Edith S Walen', all fru' to-morrer, dad, won't we? They're all slippin'
over from the shoal o' 'Queereau”
”You won't see many boats to-n that the old man was pleased ”Boys, we're too crowded,” he went on, addressing the crew as they cla an' catch small” He looked at the catch in the pen, and it was curious to see how little and level the fish ran Save for Harvey's halibut, there was nothing over fifteen pounds on deck
”I'm waitin' on the weather,” he added
”Ye'll have to n I can see,”
said Long Jack, sweeping the clear horizon