Part 10 (1/2)
”This ain't no weather,” said Dan ”Why, you an' h so's not to foul our cable They don't need no bell reelly”
”Clang! cling! clang!” Harvey kept it up, varied with occasional rub-a-dubs, for another half-hour There was a bellow and a buside Manuel and Dan raced to the hooks of the dory-tackle; Long Jack and Toether, it seemed, one half the North Atlantic at their backs, and the dory followed the with a clatter
”Nary snarl,” said Tom Platt, as he dripped ”Danny, you'll do yet”
”The pleasure av your co the water from his boots as he capered like an elephant and stuck an oilskinned ar to honour the second half wid our presence” And off they all four rolled to supper, where Harvey stuffed himself to the brim on fish-chowder and fried pies, and fell fast asleep just as Manuel produced from a locker a lovely two-footto show Harvey the ropes Harvey never even twiddled his fingers as Penn pushed hi--a very sad thing,” said Penn, watching the boy's face, ”for his mother and his father, who think he is dead To lose a child--to lose a man-child!”
”Git out o' this, Penn,” said Dan ”Go aft and finish your game with Uncle Salters Tell dad I'll stand Harve's watch ef he don't keer He's played aout”
”Ver' good boy,” said Manuel, slipping out of his boots and disappearing into the black shadows of the lower bunk ”Expec' he ood man, Danny I no see he is any so mad as your parpa he says Eh, wha-at?”
Dan chuckled, but the chuckle ended in a snore
It was thick weather outside, with a rising wind, and the elder men stretched their watches The hours struck clear in the cabin; the nosing bows slapped and scuffled with the seas; the fo'c'sle stovepipe hissed and sputtered as the spray caught it; and the boys slept on, while Disko, Long Jack, Tom Plait, and Uncle Salters, each in turn, stumped aft to look at the wheel, forward to see that the anchor held, or to veer out a little lance at the diht between each round
CHAPTER IV
Harvey waked to find the ”first half” at 'breakfast, the fo'c'sle door drawn to a crack, and every square inch of the schooner singing its own tune The black bulk of the cook balanced behind the tiny galley over the glare of the stove, and the pots and pans in the pierced wooden board before it jarred and racketed to each plunge Up and up the fo'c'sle cli, and then, with a clear, sickle-like swoop, ca bows cut and squelch, and there was a pause ere the divided waters came down on the deck above, like a volley of buck-shot
Followed the woolly sound of the cable in the hawse-hole; a grunt and squeal of the windlass; a yaw, a punt, and a kick, and the ”We're Here”
gathered herself together to repeat the , ”ye've chores, an' ye must do thim in any weather Here we're well clear of the fleet, an' we've no chores--an' that's a blessin' Good night, all” He passed like a big snake froan to smoke Toht his way up the ladder to stand his watch, and the cook set for the ”second half”
It came out of its bunks as the others had entered theirs, with a shake and a yawn It ate till it could eat no more; and then Manuel filled his pipe with some terrible tobacco, crotched himself between the pawl-post and a forward bunk, cocked his feet up on the table, and sth in his bunk, wrestling with a gaudy, gilt-stopped accordion, whose tunes went up and doith the pitching of the ”We're Here” The cook, his shoulders against the locker where he kept the fried pies (Dan was fond of fried pies), peeled potatoes, with one eye on the stove in event of too eneral smell and smother were past all description
Harvey considered affairs, wondered that he was not deathly sick, and crawled into his bunk again, as the softest and safest place, while Dan struck up, ”I don't want to play in your yard,” as accurately as the wild jerks allowed
”How long is this for?” Harvey asked of Manuel
”Till she get a little quiet, and we can row to trawl Perhaps to-night Perhaps two days more You do not like? Eh, wha-at?”
”I should have been crazy sick a week ago, but it doesn't seem to upset me now--much”
”That is because we make you fisherman, these days If I was you, when I coood luck”
”Give who?”
”To be sure--the Virgin of our Church on the Hill She is very good to fisheree men ever are drowned”
”You're a Roman Catholic, then?”
”I am a Madeira man I am not a Porto Pico boy Shall I be Baptist, then? Eh, wha-at? I always give candles--two, three ets me, Manuel”
”I don't sense it that way,” Tolare of a match as he sucked at his pipe
”It stands to reason the sea's the sea; and you'll git jest about what's goin', candles or kerosene, fer thatJack, ”to have a fri'nd at coort, though I'm o' Manuel's way o' thinkin' About tin years back I was crew to a Sou' Boston e wid a northeaster, butt first, atop of us, thicker'n burgoo The ould in' on the tiller, an' I sez to ain, I'll show the saints fwhat manner o' craft they saved me out av' Now, I'm here, as ye can well see, an'
the model of the dhirty ould Kathleen, that tookUt up forninst the altar There's ivin' a model that's by way o' bein' a work av art than any candle Ye can buy candles at store, but a rateful”