"Captains Courageous": A Story of the Grand Banks

arned it. Pshaw! there's no sense takin' on so." Harvey's shoulders were rising and falling in spasms of dry sobbing. "I know

t man's either crazy or drunk,

all liquor, an'- well, he told me you was the madman. W

not crazy," he wound up. "Only - your father has never seen more than a five-dollar

ad must hev a pile o' money. How did he git it? Dad s

nes and thi

ith a pistol on a trick-pony, same ez the circus? They call that the Wi

e of himself. "My father hasn't any use for po

Lobst

course. You've seen a private

ows.) "But Slatin Beeman he owns 'baout every railroad on Long Island, they say, an' they say he's bought 'baout ha'af Noo Hampshire an' run a line fence aro

e, and he has two private cars. One's named for me,

ar, but I guess you can. 'Fore we go ahead, I w

se," sai

'Hope I may die if I

aid Harvey, "if every word I'v

id Dan. "I heard ye talkin' to Dad, an' I ha'

stioning convinced him that Harvey was not lying - much. Besides, he had bound himself by the most terrible oath

inventory of the car named in his honour. Then a grin of mischievous delight overspre

Harvey, who was medit

ok in his jedgments." Dan lay back and slapped his thig

ked down again. I'll get

'd knock ye down again sure. The more he was mistoo

t pistols," Harvey cut in

wo hundred dollars a month pocket-money, all knocked into the scuppers fer not workin' fer te

Harvey, who thought he

I'll catch it fer backin' you up. Dad always gives me double helps 'cause I'm his son, an' he hates favourin' folk. 'G

s, don't it?" Harvey poi

e shipped together for six years an' more. Don't you make any mistake on that! I told ye dad don't let me swear. He calls 'em vain oaths, and pounds me; but ef I could say what you said 'baout your pap an' his fixin's, I'd say that 'baout your dollars. I dunno what was i

something to do with it. "That's all right," he said. Then he looked down confusedly. "'Seems

Dan. "Anyway, there was only dad an' me a

ay," Harvey said, half to himself, "instead of call

What d' you wan

teps where the little ship's clock hung in plain sight of the wheel. Troop, in the chocolate-and-yellow pa

ight," said Harvey, surp

said the skipper. "Wa

's abou

re to l

," said Harvey very quickly. "When a m

a man yet ef yo

egin by callin

n' jest," said Troop, wit

say I'm sorry."

smothered chuckle on deck caught his ear. "I am very seldom mistook in my jedgments." The eleven-inch hand closed on Harvey's, numbing it to the elbow. "We'll put a little more gristle to tha

Harvey regained the deck, flu

feel it,"

is jedgments too. Ho! ho! Onct Dad has a jedgment, he'd sooner dip his colours to the British than change it. I'm glad it's settled right eend up. Dad's

r?" said

t your stummick tell you

olefully, looking at the tangl

mainsail's bent, an' she walks home with all her salt wet. There's some work first, t

r? It's all emp

v got to fill it," said Dan.

" said

an' salt. There's a hundred hogshead o' salt in the b

e the fis

said Dan, quoting a fisherman's proverb. "You

wooden pen just in fro

th fish waitin' to clean, an' we stood to the tables till we was splittin' ourselves instid o' them, we was so sleepy. Yes, th

a from so low down," sa

nd blue and green mackerel shades in the hollows. Each schooner in sight seemed to be pulling her dories t

alf-shut eyes. "Manuel hain't room fer another fi

t see how you can tell '

m - see how pretty they string out all along - with the humpy shoulders, is Long Jack. He's a Galway man inhabitin' South Boston, where they all live mostly, an' mostly them Galway men are good in a boat. North, away yonder - you'll hear

the northern dory. Harvey heard something about

he chart, the

them mount

e thick aroun

around t

a chuckle. "If he give us 'O

low con

to thee,

rnestly

shall ne

or clois

uncle,- Dad's own brother,- an' ef there's any bad luck loose on the Banks she'll fetch up agin Uncle Salters, sure.

m?" said Harvey,

wn. That man's luck's perfectly paralyzin'. Naow we'll take a-holt o' the tackles an' hist 'em in. Is it true what yo

nyway," Harvey replied stout

that tackle, th

omething he called a "topping-lift," as Manuel drew alongside in his loaded dory. The Portuguese smiled a brilliant smile that Harvey lea

He slipped it through a loop of rope at the dory's bow, caught Dan's t

vey pulled, astonished to fi

es!" Dan laughed; and Harvey held on, fo

ne hand till it landed softly just behind the mainmast. "They don't weigh nothin'

re some pretty well now? This time last night the fish

nce more, but he remembered that he had no money to offer. When he knew Manuel better the mere

t, dreeft all around the Banks? Now you are a fisherman eh, wha-at? Ouh! Auh!" He

Too busy. They struck on queek

re was something he could do for

reat good-will. "Hike out the foot-boards; they slide in them grooves," said Dan. "Swab 'em

fish flew into the pe

the tables. Harvey, clear Manuel's boat

abbing at the bottom of anot

es, ain't they?" said Dan, as th

-lipped Galway man, bending to and fro exactly as Manuel had done. Disko in

bolus!" said Long Jack. "I'm murderin' meself to fill your

y alongside, and more

n larger than the Galway man, and his face was made curious by a purple C

ch dory as it came down, pulled out the foot-b

g him critically. "There are two ways o' doin' everything. One's fisher-

ng into the knot of men with a long board on legs. "Ge

bulwarks, kicked out the leg, and ducked just in ti

Ohio, too, Danny. See?"

and I know who'll find his boots on the main-truck ef he

d Long Jack. "You're the hoight av impidence, an' I

be worth five of any Sou' Boston clam-digger 'fore long." He laid the knives

a roar of laughter as another voice answered, "Then my luck's turne

ive. I've lost count,

in' catch. This beats the circus an

ed Long Jack. "It's wet

said." This was

lied meekly. The two dories swung toget

water with a splash. "What possest a farmer like you to

to sea on account of nervous dy

" roared Uncle Salters, a fat and tubby little man. "You're

n, Mr. Salters

ive. I'm forty-five," said Uncle

lters, you pitch your fish in naow at

d," Dan murmured. "Them tw

Jack, as Uncle Salters got to work laboriously; the little ma

said, looking up plaintively, his

side, slipped the hook into the stern-rope as Manuel made her fast forwa

"Forty-seven. Penn, you're it!" Dan let the after-tackle run, and sl

, bobbing by the waist. "Hold o

but was hove inboard and

"Beat by a farmer, Salters.

e, stumbling out of the pen; "a

ere puffy and mot

said Dan, addressing the newly risen moon,

"eats the fat o' the land in slo

lters went forward on the word. Little Penn bent above his square deep-sea reel and the tangled cod-lines; Manuel l

'll pitch to Dad. Tom Platt an' Dad they stow together, an' you'll hear 'em arguin'. W

of that?" said Ha

ood cook ef he do suffer with his brother. It's a full catch today, Aeneid it?

ese, sleepily. "They strike on good an

elders, had finished wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Harvey followed Penn, and sat down before a tin pan of cod's tongues and sounds, mixed with scraps of pork and fried potato, a loaf of hot bread, and

here's just room f

he negroes Harvey had met, did not talk, contenting him

nnsy an' you an' Manuel - we're second ha'af, an' we eats when the first ha'af are through. They're the old fish; an' they're

ook n

?" said Harvey

m the innards of Cape Breton, he does, where the farmers speak homemade Scotch. Cape Breton's full

"Pennsylvania." "That is Ga

t he says is so -'cep' when it

say how many they've caught with

e sense of a man lyin

put in. "Lied every day. Fife, ten, twenty

" said Dan. "Non

an of An

eason they can't caount Ef you run acrost any of their soft hoo

ore and n

e we come

hatch, and the "second h

shone like a dump of fluid silver. In the hold there were tramplings and rumblings where Disko Troop and Tom Platt moved among the salt-bins. Dan passed Harvey a

e keer Uncle Salters don't cut yer eye out," said Dan,

nives. Long Jack, a basket at his feet and mittens on his hands, faced Un

r in its eyes. He laid it on the edge of the pen; the knife-blade glimmered with a sound of tearing, and

, who snorted fiercely. There was another sound of tearing, the backbone flew over the bulwarks, and the fish, headless, gutted, and open, splashed in the tub, sending the salt water into Harvey's ast

turning his head, and Harvey pitched the

t scatter! Uncle Salters is the best split

Penn toiled valiantly, but it was easy to see he was weak. Once or twice Manuel found time to help him without breaking the chain of supplies, and once Manuel howled because he had caught his finger in a Frenchman's hoo

dertune to the "click-nick" of knives in the pen; the wrench and shloop of torn heads, dropped liver, and flying offal;

you would think, and his back ached with the steady pitching. But he felt for the first time in hi

bowed back and forth to supple himself, and Long Jack leaned over the bulwarks. The cook ap

an' head-chowder," said Lo

Salters, waving the flat,

foot, Harve,"

a cleat in the hatch combing. He dealt t

said Di

n' the dipper's alongside

of stale brown water which tasted like nectar

figs, Tom Platt, nor yet silver bars. I've told you

ood stowin' all the same, an' there's a right an' a wrong way o' stowin'

ko Troop rolled aft to the cabin with his brother; Manuel and Long Jack went forward; Tom Platt only waited long enough to slide home

id Penn, whose eyelids were heavy with sleep

, Penn. You've no call to do boy's work. Draw a bucket, Harvey. Oh, Penn,

d them into a cask with a hinged top lashed by the f

e pen energetically, unshipped the table, set it up to dry in the moonlight, ran the red knife-blades through a wad of

ght from the oily water and sighed a weird whistling sig

he air as the pillar of white sank, and the water bubbled oilily. "Hain't ye never seen a grampus up-eend before? You'll see 'em by hundreds 'fore ye're through. Say, it's good to

said Harvey,

see ef our anchor-light's bright an'

o hurt us? Brigh

a liner, an' seventeen brass-bound officers, all gen'elmen, lift their hand to it that your lights was aout an' th

d jersey, staggering around the cluttered decks of a seventy-ton schooner, while behind him, waving a knott

d, and at last wept outright, while Dan, the words clotting on his tongue, spoke of the beauty of watchfulness and slashed away with the rope's end, punishing the dories as often as he hit Harvey. At last the cloc