|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 65
"What for, Mama? I worked like a horse and I ate like a hog and I
slept like a dead man."
That was too much for Mrs. Cheyne, who began to think of her
visions of a corpse rocking on the salty seas. She went to her
stateroom, and Harvey curled up beside his father, explaining
his indebtedness.
"You can depend upon me to do everything I can for the crowd,
Harve. They seem to be good men on your showing."
"Best in the Fleet, sir. Ask at Gloucester," said Harvey. "But Disko
believes still he's cured me of being crazy. Dan's the only one I've
let on to about you, and our private cars and all the rest of it, and
I'm not quite sure Dan believes. I want to paralyze 'em to-morrow.
Say, can't they run the 'Constance' over to Gloucester? Mama don't
look fit to be moved, anyway, and we're bound to finish cleaning
out by tomorrow. Wouverman takes our fish. You see, we're the
first off the Banks this season, and it's four twenty-five a quintal.
We held out till he paid it. They want it quick."
"You mean you'll have to work to-morrow, then?"
"I told Troop I would. I'm on the scales. I've brought the tallies
with me." He looked at the greasy notebook with an air of
importance that made his father choke. "There isn't but three--
no-two ninety-four or five quintal more by my reckoning."
"Hire a substitute," suggested Cheyne, to see what Harvey would
say.
"Can't, sir. I'm tally-man for the schooner. Troop says I've a better
head for figures than Dan. Troop's a mighty just man."
"Well, suppose I don't move the 'Constance' to-night, how'll you fix
it?"
Harvey looked at the clock, which marked twenty past eleven.
"Then I'll sleep here till three and catch the four o'clock freight.
They let us men from the Fleet ride free as a rule."
"That's a notion. But I think we can get the 'Constance' around
about as soon as your men's freight. Better go to bed now."
Harvey spread himself on the sofa, kicked off his boots, and was
asleep before his father could shade the electrics. Cheyne sat
watching the young face under the shadow of the arm thrown over
the forehead, and among many things that occurred to him was the
notion that he might perhaps have been neglectful as a father.
"One never knows when one's taking one's biggest risks," he said.
"It might have been worse than drowning; but I don't think it has--I
don't think it has. If it hasn't, I haven't enough to pay Troop, that's
all; and I don't think it has."
Morning brought a fresh sea breeze through the windows, the
"Constance" was side-tracked among freight-cars at Gloucester,
and Harvey had gone to his business.
"Then he'll fall overboard again and be drowned," the mother said
bitterly.
"We'll go and look, ready to throw him a rope in case. You've
never seen him working for his bread," said the father.
"What nonsense! As if any one expected--"
"Well, the man that hired him did. He's about right, too."
They went down between the stores full of fishermen's oilskins to
Wouverman's wharf where the 'We're Here' rode high, her Bank flag
still flying, all hands busy as beavers in the glorious morning light.
Disko stood by the main hatch superintending Manuel, Penn, and
Uncle Salters at the tackle. Dan was swinging the loaded baskets
inboard as Long Jack and Tom Platt filled them, and Harvey, with
a notebook, represented the skipper's interests before the clerk of
the scales on the salt-sprinkled wharf-edge.
"Ready!" cried the voices below. "Haul!" cried Disko. "Hi!" said
Manuel. "Here!" said Dan, swinging the basket. Then they heard
Harvey's voice, clear and fresh, checking the weights.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|