The Deep Sea's Toll. James B. Connolly

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      “And what kind of a trip did y’ have?”

      “Oh, nothing extra so far as the fish went, but good and lively every other way. Stayed out in that breeze week before last and left Georges last night with that latest spoon-bow model and I guess she’s still a-comin’. Some wind last night comin’ home, Peter.”

      “M-m—I’ll bet she came a-howlin’.”

      “Oh, maybe she didn’t. Peter boy, but if you only could’ve seen her hoppin’ over the shoals last night and comin’ up to Cape Ann this mornin’! But let’s step inside, and have a little touch.”

      “Well, I don’t mind, seein’ the kind of a day it is, Tommie. And I want to ask you about that little fellow you shipped—Jimmie Johnson.”

      “Ho, ho—‘Your oilskins are too loose,’ says the Skipper to him. Ho, ho—wait and I’ll tell you about him, Peter—‘Your oilskins too loose—’ ho, ho.”

      “What did he mean by that?”

      “Wait, till I tell you, Peter-boy. But let’s sit down and drink in comfort. There y’are. Here’s a shoot. G-g-g-h-! m-m-! but ain’t it fine to feel that soaking into your inside planking after you’ve been carryin’ a dry hold for sixteen days? Ain’t it? What? You bet! And about the little lumper-man—it was funny from the start. I was down the end of the dock the mornin’ we left, with the dory, waiting for the Skipper, when along comes this little fellow lookin’ like something sad’d happened. I kind of half knew him from seein’ him around the dock now and again. He seemed to be lookin’ for some good sympathetic party to tell his troubles to and I let him pour them into me. He talks away and I listens and before he’s through I begin to see what the trouble was. ‘What you need is a couple of drinks,’ I says—‘What d’y’ say if we step up the dock and have a litle touch?’

      “‘No, no,’ says he, ‘I ain’t drunk a drop since I got married—and I never will whilst I am married.’

      “‘Then if you don’t hurry up and get a divorce, I can see that you are goin’ to carry around an awful thirst,’ I says, but the way he took it I see he didn’t want any foolin’. And then, to soothe him, I asked why he didn’t go a haddockin’ trip, and forget it.”

      “‘Do you think I’d forget it?’ he asks, eager-like.

      “‘Well,’ I said, ‘I can’t say. Some people remember things a long time, but you go a trip with Tom O’Donnell, and you’ll stand a pretty good chance ’specially ’bout this time o’ year,’ I says. ‘And maybe it’ll teach people a lesson,’ I insinuates. And just then down the dock comes the Skipper, with big Jerry Sullivan. Ain’t he a whale though—big Jerry?”

      “Yes, and gettin’ bigger every day.”

      “Yes. Well, the Skipper was layin’ down the law to big Jerry, and you could hear him the length of the dock. He was sayin’, ‘I told him we’d leave at nine o’clock, and it’s quarter-past now, and I told him above all the others, knowin’ his failin’. He knows me, and he oughter know that when I say nine o’clock that ’tis nine o’clock I mean, and not ten, or eleven, or two in the afternoon; and we’ve been in two nights now, and he’s had plenty o’ time to loosen up since.”

      “‘That’s right enough, Skipper,’ says Jerry. ‘I heard you myself, and I said myself, “Now, mind, Bartley, what the Skipper’s tellin’ you.” But you see, Skipper, it was a weddin’ last night, and a wake the night before——’

      “‘A wake and a weddin’! And whose weddin’—his?’ roars the Skipper.

      “‘Why, no,’ says Jerry.

      “‘Was it his wake, then?’

      “‘Why, Skipper, don’t you know it couldn’t been his wake?’

      “‘Not his wake and not his weddin’? Then what the divil reason has he?’

      “‘Why,’ said Jerry, ‘I ain’t sayin’ he’s got any good reason. But you know what he thinks of you and of the vessel. He’s been in the Colleen ever since she was built, and he’s a fisherman—a fisherman, Skipper, stem to stern a fisherman—and he knows your ways and the vessel’s ways,’ says Jerry.

      “‘Indeed, and I’m not sure he knows my ways too well,’ says the Skipper. ‘It’s so proud he should be to sail in the Colleen Bawn, the fastest, ablest vessel out of Gloucester, if I do say it myself, that—But no more talk. To the divil with him. There’s the dory—jump in and go aboard.’

      “‘But what’ll I do for a dory-mate?’ says Jerry.

      “‘Oh, I’ll get you a dory-mate. When we put into Boston for bait there’ll be plenty to pick up on T wharf.’

      “Well, just there I nudges the little lumper, and he sets his jaws and steps up: ‘Captain, could you give me a chance? I’d like to ship with you for a trip.’

      “The Skipper looks down at him. ‘And who are you?’

      “And right away he begins to tell his troubles to the Skipper, and the Skipper—you know the Skipper—listens like a father. But he near spoiled it all by windin’ up, ‘Oh, I’ve been workin’ around the dock lately, but I used to be quartermaster on a harbor steamer in Boston one time,’ to let the Skipper know he wouldn’t have a passenger on his hands.

      “The Skipper looks him up and looks him down. ‘Quartermaster on a harbor steamer once, was you? Think of that, now. It’s the proud man you oughter be! And about as big as a pair of good woolen mitts! But’—and he looks over at Jerry sideways—‘you’ll have a mate that’s big enough. Jerry,’ and he begins to smile sly-like, ‘Jerry, here’s the dory-mate you’ve been screechin’ for.’

      “‘What!’ howls Jerry, ‘him—him! Why, I could slip him into one of my red-jacks. That little shrimp! A shrimp? No—a minim!’

      “It was scandalous, of course, to speak out like that to the little man to his face, but Jerry and Bartley were great friends, you see; and Jerry’d kept on, but the Skipper puts an end to it quick, and we went aboard.

      “Well, we puts into Boston for the bait, gets it up to T wharf and puts out. Coming down the harbor it was Jerry and the little man’s watch on deck. Jerry put him to the wheel. ‘Bein’ quartermaster of a harbor steamer here once, of course you know the channel,’ says Jerry, and leaves him and goes for’ard. Well, we went along till we were pretty near the little light-house on the thin iron legs that sets up like it was on stilts. Well, you know how the channel is there, Peter, and this time it was blowin’ some—wind abeam. I mind the little man askin’ Jerry afore this if it warn’t pretty bad weather to be puttin’ to sea and Jerry sayin’ maybe it would be for harbor steamers. We were crowdin’ along at this time, Jerry for’ard by the windlass, me in the waist, and the little man to the wheel. We gets near to the little light-house—like a spider on long legs it was—Bug Light is the name of it, and a good name for it, too. We were crowdin’ through, and I was thinkin’ of askin’ Jerry if he hadn’t better take the wheel himself, and then I thought I wouldn’t. It warn’t my watch, and you don’t like to be hintin’ to a man СКАЧАТЬ