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Page 64
The father, well used to judging men, looked at him keenly. He did
not know what enduring harm the boy might have taken. Indeed,
he caught himself thinking that he knew very little whatever of his
son; but he distinctly remembered an unsatisfied, dough-faced
youth who took delight in "calling down the old man," and
reducing his mother to tears--such a person as adds to the gaiety of
public rooms and hotel piazzas, where the ingenuous young of the
wealthy play with or revile the bell-boys. But this well set-up
fisher-youth did not wriggle, looked at him with eyes steady, clear,
and unflinching, and spoke in a tone distinctly, even startlingly,
respectful. There was that in his voice, too, which seemed to
promise that the change might be permanent, and that the new
Harvey had come to stay.
"Some one's been coercing him," thought Cheyne. "Now
Constance would never have allowed that. Don't see as Europe
could have done it any better."
"But why didn't you tell this man, Troop, who you were?" the
mother repeated, when Harvey had expanded his story at least
twice.
"Disko Troop, dear. The best man that ever walked a deck. I don't
care who the next is."
"Why didn't you tell him to put you ashore? You know Papa would
have made it up to him ten times over."
"I know it; but he thought I was crazy. I'm afraid I called him a
thief because I couldn't find the bills in my pocket."
"A sailor found them by the flagstaff that--that night," sobbed Mrs.
Cheyne.
"That explains it, then. I don't blame Troop any. I just said I
wouldn't work--on a Banker, too--and of course he hit me on the
nose, and oh! I bled like a stuck hog."
"My poor darling! They must have abused you horribly."
"Dunno quite. Well, after that, I saw a light."
Cheyne slapped his leg and chuckled. This was going to be a boy
after his own hungry heart. He had never seen precisely that
twinkle in Harvey's eye before.
"And the old man gave me ten and a half a month; he's paid me
half now; and I took hold with Dan and pitched right in. I can't do
a man's work yet. But I can handle a dory 'most as well as Dan,
and I don't get rattled in a fog--much; and I can take my trick in
light winds--that's steering, dear--and I can 'most bait up a trawl,
and I know my ropes, of course; and I can pitch fish till the cows
come home, and I'm great on old Josephus, and I'll show you how
I can clear coffee with a piece of fish-skin, and--I think I'll have
another cup, please. Say, you've no notion what a heap of work
there is in ten and a half a month!"
"I began with eight and a half, my son," said Cheyne.
"That so? You never told me, sir."
"You never asked, Harve. I'll tell you about it some day, if you care
to listen. Try a stuffed olive."
"Troop says the most interesting thing in the world is to find out
how the next man gets his vittles. It's great to have a trimmed-up
meal again. We were well fed, though. But mug on the Banks. Disko
fed us first-class. He's a great man. And Dan--that's his son--Dan's
my partner. And there's Uncle Salters and his manures, an' he reads
Josephus. He's sure I'm crazy yet. And there's poor little Penn, and
he is crazy. You mustn't talk to him about Johnstown, because--
"And, oh, you must know Tom Platt and Long Jack and Manuel.
Manuel saved my life. I'm sorry he's a Portuguee. He can't talk
much, but he's an everlasting musician. He found me struck
adrift and drifting, and hauled me in."
"I wonder your nervous system isn't completely wrecked," said
Mrs. Cheyne.
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