Rudyard Kipling : The Complete Novels and Stories. Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг

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      ‘What d’you make it?’ Dan whispered, and he looked at Harvey proudly. But Harvey was too proud of his own performances to be impressed just then.

      ‘Fifty!’ said the father. ‘I mistrust we’re right over the nick o’ Green Bank on old Sixty-Fifty.’

      ‘Fifty!’ roared Tom Platt. They could scarcely see him through the fog. ‘She’s bust within a yard—like the shells at Fort Maçon.’

      ‘Bait up, Harve,’ said Dan, diving for a line on the reel.

      The schooner seemed to be straying promiscuously through the smother, her headsail banging wildly. The men waited and looked at the boys who began fishing.

      ‘Heugh!’ Dan’s lines twitched on the scored and scarred rail. ‘Now haow in thunder did dad know? Help us here, Harve. It’s a big un. Poke-hooked, too.’ They hauled together, and landed a goggle-eyed twenty-pound cod. He had taken the bait right into his stomach.

      ‘Why, he’s all covered with little crabs,’ cried Harvey, turning him over.

      ‘By the great hook-block, they’re lousy already,’ said Long Jack. ‘Disko, ye kape your spare eyes under the keel.’

      Splash went the anchor, and they all heaved over the lines, each man taking his own place at the bulwarks.

      ‘Are they good to eat?’ Harvey panted, as he lugged in another crab-covered cod.

      ‘Sure. When they’re lousy it’s a sign they’ve all been herdin’ together by the thousand, and when they take the bait that way they’re hungry. Never mind how the bait sets. They’ll bite on the bare hook.’

      ‘Say, this is great!’ Harvey cried, as the fish came in gasping and splashing—nearly all poke-hooked, as Dan had said. ‘Why can’t we always fish from the boat instead of from the dories?’

      ‘Allus can, till we begin to dress daown. Efter thet, the heads and offals ’u’d scare the fish to Fundy. Boat fishin’ ain’t reckoned progressive, though, unless ye know as much as dad knows. Guess we’ll run aout aour trawl to-night. Harder on the back, this, than frum the dory, ain’t it?’

      It was rather back-breaking work, for in a dory the weight of a cod is water-borne till the last minute, and you are, so to speak, abreast of him; but the few feet of a schooner’s freeboard make so much extra dead-hauling, and stooping over the bulwarks cramps the stomach. But it was wild and furious sport so long as it lasted; and a big pile lay aboard when the fish ceased biting.

      ‘Where’s Penn and Uncle Salters?’ Harvey asked, slapping the slime off his oilskins, and reeling up the line in careful imitation of the others.

      ‘Git’s coffee and see.’

      Under the yellow glare of the lamp on the pawl-post, the foc’sle table down and opened, utterly unconscious of fish or weather, sat the two men, a checker-board between them, Uncle Salters snarling at Penn’s every move.

      ‘What’s the matter naow?’ said the former, as Harvey, one hand in the leather loop at the head of the ladder, hung shouting to the cook.

      ‘Big fish and lousy—heaps and heaps,’ Harvey replied, quoting Long Jack. ‘How’s the game?’

      Little Penn’s jaw dropped. ‘’Tweren’t none o’ his fault,’ snapped Uncle Salters. ‘Penn’s deef.’

      ‘Checkers, weren’t it?’ said Dan, as Harvey staggered aft with the steaming coffee in a tin pail. ‘That lets us out o’ cleanin’ up to-night. Dad’s a jest man. They’ll have to do it.’

      ‘An’ two young fellers I know’ll bait up a tub or so o’ trawl, while they’re cleanin’,’ said Disko, lashing the wheel to his taste.

      ‘Um! Guess I’d ruther clean up, dad.’

      ‘Don’t doubt it. Ye wun’t, though. Dress daown! Dress daown! Penn’ll pitch while you two bait up.’

      ‘Why in thunder didn’t them blame boys tell us you’d struck on?’ said Uncle Salters, shuffling to his place at the table. ‘This knife’s gum-blunt, Dan.’

      ‘Ef stickin’ out cable don’t wake ye, guess you’d better hire a boy o’ your own,’ said Dan, muddling about in the dusk over the tubs full of trawl-line lashed to windward of the house. ‘Oh, Harve, don’t ye want to slip down an’ git’s bait?’

      ‘Bait ez we are,’ said Disko. ‘I mistrust shag-fishin’ will pay better, ez things go.’

      That meant the boys would bait with selected offal of the cod as the fish were cleaned—an improvement on paddling bare-handed in the little bait-barrels below. The tubs were full of neatly coiled line, carrying a big hook each few feet; and the testing and baiting of every single hook, with the stowage of the baited line so that it should run clear when shot from the dory, was a scientific business. Dan managed it in the dark, without looking, while Harvey caught his fingers on the barbs and bewailed his fate. But the hooks flew through Dan’s fingers like tatting on an old maid’s lap. ‘I helped bait up trawl ashore ’fore I could well walk,’ he said. ‘But it’s a putterin’ job all the same. Oh, dad!’ This shouted towards the hatch, where Disko and Tom Platt were salting. ‘How many skates you reckon we’ll need?’

      ‘’Baout three. Hurry!’

      ‘There’s three-hundred fathom to each tub,’ Dan explained; ‘more’n enough to lay out to-night. Ouch! Slipped up there, I did.’ He stuck his finger in his mouth. ‘I tell you, Harve, there ain’t money in Gloucester ’u’d hire me to ship on a reg’lar trawler. It may be progressive, but, barrin’ that, it’s the putterin’est, slimjammest business top of earth.’

      ‘I don’t know what this is, if ’tisn’t regular trawling,’ said Harvey sulkily. ‘My fingers are all cut to frazzles.’

      ‘Pshaw! This is jest one o’ dad’s blame experiments. He don’t trawl ’less there’s mighty good reason fer it. Dad knows. Thet’s why he’s baitin’ ez he is. We’ll hev her saggin’ full when we take her up er we won’t see a fin.’

      Penn and Uncle Salters cleaned up as Disko had ordained, but the boys profited little. No sooner were the tubs furnished than Tom Platt and Long Jack, who had been exploring the inside of a dory with a lantern, snatched them away, loaded up the tubs and some small painted trawl-buoys, and hove the boat overboard into what Harvey regarded as an exceedingly rough sea. ‘They’ll be drowned. Why, the dory’s loaded like a freight-car,’ he cried.

      ‘We’ll be back,’ said Long Jack, ‘an’ in case you’ll not be lookin’ for us we’ll lay into you both if the trawl’s snarled.’

      The dory surged up on the crest of a wave, and just when it seemed impossible that she could avoid smashing against the schooner’s side, slid over the ridge, and was swallowed up in the damp dusk.

      ‘Take a-hold here, an’ keep ringin’ steady,’ said Dan, passing Harvey the lanyard of a bell that hung just behind the windlass.

      Harvey rang lustily, for he felt two lives depended on him. But Disko in the cabin, scrawling in the log-book, СКАЧАТЬ