The sailor looked at Alec and laughed. "So it is," he said. "But he's merely the cap'n of this boat. Cap'n Rumford's the owner of the outfit. We're just workin' for him."
"Do you dredge all the oysters from those thousand acres?"
"Lord bless you!" laughed the sailor. "It takes a whole fleet to do that. Cap'n Rumford has three or four boats going all the time."
"Isn't that an awful lot of oysters—a thousand acres?"
"I reckon it's just about the biggest oyster-bed down here. You're dead lucky to start oystering with the Rumford outfit, lad. As long as you do the right thing by the cap'n, he'll sure treat you white."
Just then the cook and the engineer came on deck. "Now me and you will handle this dredge," said Sailor Bishop, "and Dick and Joe'll take care of the other. Just git over on that side of the dredge. And watch them chains. We're almost ready."
The Bertha B passed one of the clumps of stakes that Sailor Bishop had pointed out.
And at once, "Let go your dredges!" came the order from the pilot-house.
Alec and the sailor seized the starboard dredge by which they stood, and Dick and Joe grasped the other; and both dredges shot overboard at the same instant. The chains paid out against the vertical rollers with a loud rattle. Alec stood silent, eagerly awaiting the first haul. He wondered what would be in the dredge. The engine continued to churn up the water, and the Bertha B forged ahead, dragging her heavy, clumsy dredges behind her.
"How deep is this bed?" asked Alec.
"About eighteen or twenty feet, I reckon."
"Are they all as deep as that?"
"No. Some of them ain't more than ten feet deep. It all depends upon——"
Suddenly there was a loud, clanking sound in the hold. The chain of the starboard dredge began to grow taut.
"Look out for that chain," warned the sailor again, as it began to reel up.
Suddenly the dredge shot out of water and followed the chain over the roller. Alec and the sailor grabbed it and shoved it to the deck. In another second they had thrust the dredge back over the side.
The sailor picked up a culling hammer, which was very much like an enlarged tack-hammer, and fell to sorting oysters. The very largest he put in a basket by themselves. These were "primes," and there were few of them. The remaining oysters, the "culls," he dropped into another basket as fast as he could sort them out. Many old oyster shells had come up with the dredge. These and the "rattlers" (oysters with cracked or broken shells), the sailor raked into a little pile by themselves with his culling hammer. The rattlers were detected by tapping the shells with the hammer. They gave forth a hollow, rattling sound.
Alec dropped on one knee, in imitation of his companion, and also began to cull the oysters. At first he was somewhat clumsy; but with a little practice, he acquired considerable dexterity. In the heap with the oysters were a few clams, a small crab, a conch shell, and an evil-looking fish, that the sailor struck in the head with his culling hammer and contemptuously called a "Cape May minister." When the sailor had filled his basket with cull oysters, he dumped it in the middle of the deck hard against the pilot-house. Then he dropped a single oyster in a basket that stood in front of the winders. Alec filled his basket and the sailor dumped it also and dropped another oyster in the basket. It was the method of keeping tally.
Meantime the other dredge had come aboard, and Dick and Joe were also hard at it. The captain, operating the dredges from the pilot-house, brought up the dredges at frequent intervals. When the starboard dredge chain began to wind up again, Alec and the sailor seized their shovels and shoveled the old shells and rattlers overboard again. But try as they would, they could hardly cull their pile of oysters before another dredgeful came aboard. Alec observed that Sailor Bishop was much the quickest of the three men at the dredges. He determined to watch him closely and try to become just as expert himself.
Also he understood why the captain had had him don water-proof clothes. The deck was adrip with water from the oysters, and every few minutes a wave splashed against the side of the boat, drenching the schooner with spray. Without the oilskins Alec would soon have been wet to the hide.
He found, too, that he needed more than oilskins to protect him. His fingers were rapidly becoming raw, and he saw that they would soon be cut to the bone by the sharp shells. His companions all wore rubber finger-stalls and Alec sighed with relief when he found that he could borrow some for his own fingers.
Presently Alec noticed that another oyster-boat was dredging in the adjoining bed. As the two boats sailed back and forth, passing and repassing each other, Alec couldn't help thinking how much like two farmers they were, plowing in adjoining fields. The other boat was one of the few ships in the fleet that still operated by wind power. Alec thought her a beautiful sight as she heeled over before the sharp wind, and sent the waves foaming from her bow and the spray dashing high. And she was far more picturesque than the Bertha B, which spread no sails at all. For this ship had all her sails set, and her steersman stood on deck in the open, vigorously twirling his steering-wheel.
The day wore on. Monotonously the Bertha B's propeller churned the yeasty waves. The winders rattled and clanked. Regularly the dredges came aboard and were dropped back again into the waves. The wind blew fresh. The sun shone bright. The waves sparkled. The pile of oysters before the pilot-house grew larger and larger. From time to time the cook slipped into the cabin, and Bishop stepped across the deck to help Joe with the other dredge. Now that he had acquired some facility in handling the oysters, and his fingers no longer smarted with the salt water, Alec enjoyed every moment. He didn't feel the least bit seasick, and the cool, fresh air was delightful to breathe. But he could see that in cold, stormy weather it would be anything but fun to work on the open deck of an oyster-boat. Time passed faster than he dreamed. For suddenly the Bertha B's whistle blew. The oystermen stopped work as though they had been shot.
"What's wrong?" asked Alec.
"Nothing," said Bishop. "It's time for dinner."
"But it can't be noon yet," insisted Alec.
"It isn't. We eat dinner at ten o'clock on an oyster-boat."
"Well, I'm not sorry to hear it," said Alec. "It can't come too early for me."
After dinner, dredging was resumed. By mid afternoon more than four hundred baskets of oysters were heaped up on deck of the Bertha B. Then the dredges were stowed aboard, and the ship headed for the mouth of the river. From every direction other boats were making for the same point. But this time there was no bar visible. There was water aplenty. Up the river raced the oyster-boats, sometimes three and even four abreast, every ship piled high with oysters. On the way up the river supper was served. Before five o'clock the Bertha B had reached the oyster piers. She pulled on past them to a huge float, on which the oysters were shoveled to allow them to lie in the brackish water to fatten. Then the deck was washed and the implements stowed in the hold. Captain Bagley headed the Bertha B down-stream once more, and in a few minutes she was moored snugly to the very pier on which Alec had sought shelter the night before.
But it was a very different world to Alec. He had a warm place to sleep on the Bertha B; he had all he could eat; he had a job; and he had found friends. He didn't know yet how much his job would pay him, for it hadn't occurred to him to ask. It was enough for the present to know that he had work and would no longer have to go hungry. About his new friends he knew almost nothing; but he felt sure they were going to be friends, for they all had treated him in a kindly fashion. Concerning his future he had as yet little idea. A few weeks previously it had never occurred to him that he would ever be an oysterman. But now that he had had a taste of oystering and had begun to get an insight into it, he saw at once that it was entirely possible that he might become an oysterman. He knew that men could rise in the oyster business as well as in any other. Like the sensible boy he was, Alec told himself that he would work as hard as he could, learn all he could, and earn and save all he could. If he got ready for an opportunity, the opportunity might come. Now that he did have to support himself, he meant to make the best job of it he knew how.
On the way across the river every man in the crew had pulled off his oilskins, and now all were ready to go ashore.
"Come along with me, Alec," said Captain Bagley as he scrambled over the rail.
The Bertha B's pier, and all the other piers, were covered for the greater part of their length by an enormous roof sloping up to the building that extended along the landward side of the piers. This building, hundreds of feet in length, was tenanted by the various oyster shippers. Each occupied a small section of it containing wareroom and storage compartments on the pier level, and office rooms on the floor above. At every pier little openings, like tiny tunnels, led through this long building to the wide shipping platform on the farther side, where the trains were loaded.
Captain Bagley entered one of these tunnel-like passages, but half-way through he stepped into a little wareroom, nearly filled with sacked oysters, and mounted some narrow wooden stairs. Alec followed close at his heels. The stairs led to the office of Captain Rumford, and that individual was sitting behind his desk, addressing shipping tags. He looked up as Captain Bagley entered, said "Hello!" and went on addressing tags. Captain Bagley sat down in a chair, by the pot-bellied stove in the centre of the room, and motioned for Alec to occupy a second chair.
On the walls were hung pictures of boats, gaudy advertising calendars of oyster shippers and ship-chandlers, with models of oyster-boats, that Alec found very interesting. Oilskins hung on pegs and long boots stood in a corner, showing that Captain Rumford was as well prepared for bad weather as any of his sailors. Alec rightly guessed that sometimes he went along with his boats to the oyster grounds.
When Captain Rumford had finished his tags, he laid down his pen, turned away from his desk, and tilted back in his chair. "Well, Bagley, how did it go to-day?" he asked.
"Not so bad, not so bad," replied Captain Bagley, "everything considered. Looked bad for a time, though. That Hawley got drunk last night and snuk off after he'd had his breakfast. But this kid turned up and took his place. Then old Hardy fouled us and broke his bowsprit, and that held us up so long we got stuck on the bar. Every boat in the fleet got hung up. Bar was clean out o' water. Made us late gettin' out. But we got more than four hundred baskets at that. Not so bad, eh? Not so bad."
"Good enough, Bagley. Who is the lad?"
"Name's Alec Cunningham," said Captain Bagley. "Alec, this is Captain Rumford."
Alec sprang to his feet, stepped to the captain's side, and shook hands with him.
He knew at once that he was going to like Captain Rumford. The captain's glance seemed to bore right through Alec. He felt as though the captain could read everything that was in his mind. But there was a kindly expression about his face that won Alec instantly.
"Where do you come from?" asked Captain Rumford. "I never saw you around here."
"He come from up in Pennsylvania," said Captain Bagley, "and he's a nephew of my old buddy, Thomas Robinson, that was drowned when the Mary Ford's anchor purchase parted last spring. His parents is dead and he come here to find his uncle. Hit here last night without a cent and slept out on our pier in them oyster sacks. Darned wonder he didn't freeze to death."
"That's a shame," exclaimed Captain Rumford, "with so many bunks around here he could have slept in. Why, there's half a dozen in this office."
"It didn't hurt me any," laughed Alec, "but it was cold." And a little shiver ran down his back at the recollection of his chilly bed.
"Wonder where Hawley got his booze," said Captain Rumford presently. "He was a pretty good man, wasn't he? What are you going to do with him?"
"Yes. He was a good worker, but I ain't got time to fool with that kind o' cattle. I'll tell him to go aboard and get his things. I've got to have men I can depend on."
Captain Rumford arose and began to pull on his overcoat. "Time to be getting home," he said. "Just a word with you, Bagley, before I go." He entered an inner room, followed by his ship captain. "Does this young chap intend to become an oysterman?" asked the shipper.
"I don't know that, Cap'n," replied the master of the Bertha B. "He was flat on his back when he struck here and would probably have taken any job he could get. Hadn't had anything to eat for twenty-four hours."
"Well, he's got a good, clean face. I like the cut of his jib. Got lots of grit, if I ain't mistaken. Looks as though he knew something, too."
"He's a wireless man. Got an outfit with him that he made himself. He's had a high school education, too."
"He has, eh? Well, I've been sizing him up, and I thought he was a clever lad. Got the making of a good man in him. How does he work?"
"Good! Mighty good. Took right hold like an old-timer. Just had to see a thing done once, and he picked it up as though he had done it all his life."
"Know anything about his habits?"
"No. But he don't use tobacco, and I'm pretty sure he never touched booze."
"Well, take care of him, but don't spoil him. Put him through the mill and see what he's got in him. If he's the lad I take him to be, we don't want him to get away from us. It's hard to find really good men nowadays. Well, I must get home. Now mind you don't spoil him."
When the two men came back into the main office Captain Rumford said rather severely, "Young man, Captain Bagley wants to take you on as a regular hand. He says he's going to fire the fellow who was drunk this morning. I don't know about it. I don't know about it. It's a risky thing to do, when we're so short handed. Jim Hawley is a good worker."
"Oh, sir, if only you will let me stay," pleaded Alec, "you'll never be sorry. It's true I don't know anything about oystering yet, but I can learn, sir. And I can and will work as hard as anybody. I need the work—need it terribly. Please, sir, give me a chance."
"Well," said the shipper, "I make it a rule not to interfere with my captains. Bagley says he wants you, and I suppose I shall have to humor him. Your uncle was a great friend of his. But mind, you can't hold a job on one of my boats just because your uncle was a friend of the skipper. I'll give you a job. But it's up to you to keep it. Understand?"
"Thank you, sir. Thank you," said Alec gratefully. "It's very good of you to give me the chance. I'll try to make good, sir. I can learn as well as anybody."
"Very well. We will see what you can do. Now I must be getting home, or I'll have to account to Mrs. Rumford for this extra half hour."
The captain's face was as stern as ever, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that belied the sternness. And the tone in which the skipper said, "Good night, Bagley," confirmed Alec's first impression that Captain Rumford had a soft heart under his somewhat rough exterior.
The three oystermen went down-stairs. Captain Rumford locked the door and went to his automobile, parked on the farther side of the railroad. Alec and Captain Bagley turned back toward the pier shed. To Alec, the interview just ended seemed momentous. He had a job. He had a start in life. But little did he dream what a part this half hour in the oyster shipper's office was destined to play in his life.
It was still daylight, though dusk was at hand. "If it's all right," said Alec, "I'd like to look around a bit."
"Look as much as you like," said Captain Bagley. "But you'd better turn in early. You know we have to be out to the oyster-beds by sunup. Hello! There's Hawley now."
Alec waited to see what would happen. The big oysterman came swinging along under the pier shed, just sufficiently unsteady on his feet to betray the fact that he had been drinking again.
"Go aboard and get your duds," called Captain Bagley sharply, as the man came up to him. "You can get what's due you on Friday when the rest are paid."
"What do you mean?"
"You know well enough what I mean. Take your clothes out of my boat and don't you set foot in her again."
The drunken oysterman leered at Captain Bagley. "You can't fire me. You've got only three men left and there ain't another hand to be had."
"There ain't, eh? Well, here's one. He did your work to-day, and he's going to do it every day. See? Now get your things out of the Bertha B and be quick about it."
Instantly a change came over the oysterman. "Take the bread from an honest man's mouth, would you?" he snarled, turning upon Alec. "Take his job away from him, would you? You young pup, I'll fix you!"
His attitude was so threatening that Alec stepped back in alarm.
Captain Bagley grasped the sailor by the arm and spun him around. "You get your clothes and get out here before you get in trouble," he said sternly.
The oysterman swore viciously, but obeyed, and went shambling down the pier to the boat.
"You'd better keep your weather-eye on him," said the captain. "I don't believe he'd really try to hurt you, but he's a bad actor when he gets drunk. So just watch him. I'll go aboard and see that he behaves himself on the Bertha B."
Alec hastened to have a look at his surroundings before darkness came. Although it was late in the day, there was still much activity on the piers, for this was the rush season. In the slips between piers were many square-ended scows, some loaded deep with oysters that were covered with burlap sacks against a sudden cold snap, while others were entirely emptied of their cargo, their sacks laid in neat piles amidships.
Still other scows were being unloaded. Mostly four scow men were at work in each scow, counting and culling the oysters. As fast as the baskets were filled, they were hoisted to the piers, where other men emptied them into sacks and tossed the empty baskets back into the scows. Six baskets filled a sack. The sacks were sewed up as fast as they were filled, and trundled off on trucks to the waiting cars. Such rattlers and empty shells as had gotten in among the good oysters were thrown in little heaps in the centres of the scows.
Presently Alec saw a rough looking old fellow sculling a flat-bottomed boat into a slip where some empty scows were floating.
"Can I have your shells, Cap'n?" asked the boatman of the shipper who stood on the pier, sewing up the last of his sacks.
"Sure," said the shipper, and the old boatman began to shovel the shells from the scows into his own boat.
"Now I wonder what he wants with those shells," thought Alec. Then, following his rule, he decided to watch and see what the old fellow did with them.
As there were six scows to clean, it was evident that it would take him some time to get all the shells; so Alec walked on. He went past pier after pier. On most of them, men were just finishing their day's work, sewing up and trundling away the last of their oysters. On some piers were great rows of barrels, such as had sheltered Alec from the wind on Captain Rumford's pier. On practically every pier baskets were stacked up like the barrels; and when Alec noticed how wet they were, he rightly guessed that they were left out in the wind to dry. On some piers seines were hung up on long poles that extended from rafter to rafter. Yawl boats, most of them equipped with gasoline engines, floated in the slips. And several had been stowed on piers. One by one the oyster craft were tying up at the ends of the piers, so that the river began to present as crowded an appearance as it had in the early morning.
At the end of the pier shed was a big blacksmith shop, with quantities of dredges, anchors, and other boat equipment to be mended.
Alec went around the end of the pier house and started back along the wide shipping platform. He was amazed to see that three lines of cars on three parallel tracks stood ready to receive the day's yield of oysters. Little, metal markers, labeled Scranton, Wilkes-Barre, Williamsport, New York, and so on, were stuck in the doors of the various cars, to help the men trucking the oysters get them in the proper cars. The strings of cars reached the full length of the oyster sheds, which must have been at least two hundred yards; and Alec saw at once that when the three strings were coupled in one train, there would be considerably more than a third of a mile of oysters going to market. When he remembered that he had seen another train at the oyster sheds across the river, he suddenly realized what an enormous industry this oyster business was, and what a lot of money there must be in it for successful oyster shippers. It made him more determined than ever to look into the situation well and see if his opportunity in life might not lie right here.
As Alec walked along the shipping platform, his wonder grew. Here were telegraph stations, butcher shops, ship-chandleries, where one could buy almost anything needed aboard ship, and so on, as well as the offices of the oystermen. Overhead swung the signs of the different shippers, and Alec was interested in reading them. On these signs he saw many of the names he had seen earlier in the day on the oyster-boats themselves; and he guessed that many of these boats, like the Bertha B and the Mary and Willie, must have been named after members of the shippers' families.
By the time Alec had completed the circuit of the oyster sheds, and gotten back to the slip where the old man was collecting shells, it was almost dark. The shell collector was just sculling his craft out of the slip into the river. Alec walked to the end of the pier and saw that the man was pointing his boat up-stream. Deciding to follow him on land, Alec hurried along under the pier shed in pursuit.
Long before this the electric lights had been lighted, and Alec did not realize how dark it really was until he had passed beyond the shed under the open sky. At first he could hardly see anything. Once he glanced back, and in the faint light from the pier shed made out the form of a man behind him. As he went on, he heard footsteps coming close, but thought nothing of it. He came to a little landing place built of a few planks, that projected well out over the water. His eyes had now grown accustomed to the dark, and he cautiously made his way out on this landing, to look for the shell collector. He was surprised to hear a tread behind him on the landing. Just as he turned to see who was coming, there was a rush of feet on the planks, a hoarse voice cursed him viciously, and in another instant powerful arms grasped him and flung him headlong into the swirling tide.
Down, down, down into the chilling water went Alec. So confused was he that he did not know which way was down and which was up. He opened his eyes but the muddy water was inky black and he could see nothing. So sudden and unexpected had been the attack that he had not had time even to catch his breath before he sank beneath the water. Immediately he began to suffer for air.
Instinctively Alec struck out, but after a few strokes he stopped swimming. He was recovering his wits rapidly, and he realized that it was worse than useless to try to swim until he knew in which direction he was going. He might swim under a scow or boat and be drowned. It was fortunate indeed that Alec ceased swimming when he did, for the tide and his own efforts were taking him directly under a big oyster-float. The instant he stopped swimming, the lifting force of the water shot him upward. It was high time he got his head above water, for his lungs seemed about to burst. He knew he could not hold his breath much longer.
With quick wit he raised his hands above his head the instant he felt himself rising. And it was well he did so. Hardly had he lifted them before he crashed into one of the great timbers of the oyster-float. The impact almost broke his fingers; and although his hands lessened the force of the blow, nevertheless he bumped his head so hard that for an instant he was dazed. His extended hands alone had saved him from being knocked senseless and drowned. For a second he lost control of himself and swallowed some water. Sudden terror clutched his heart. He realized that in another moment he might drown. Wildly, frantically, he clawed at the timber above him. One hand met solid wood wherever it moved. But the other shot upward into the free air. With his last remaining ounce of strength Alec dragged himself from under the log that formed the edge of the float and pulled himself up until his nose was above water.
Shuddering, gasping, gulping in both air and water, Alec clung to the log desperately. Panic took possession of him. He tried to cry out, but succeeded only in swallowing more water. Wildly he clutched the float and tried to draw himself up on it; but the great round log, slippery with mud and slime, gave him not the slightest finger hold. Almost exhausted and nearly paralyzed with cold, he slipped back into the water. But his hands still rested on the log.
Then he took a grip on himself and choked back the wave of fear that was chilling his heart worse than the cold water was numbing his muscles. He let his body sink in the flood until only his nose and eyes were above water; and clinging to the log, he remained perfectly still for a moment to recruit his waning strength. Meantime his mind and his eyes were both busy.
By this time his eyes were free from water and accustomed to the darkness. He could see fairly well. A hasty glance showed him a long line of floats, oyster-boats, scows, and similar craft moored parallel with the shore. He was in the smooth water between float and shore and only a few yards distant from solid ground. With that realization a wave of courage swept over Alec that seemed almost to warm him. For now he knew he should get out all right. He had only to swim the little distance between float and shore and he was safe.
Boldly he struck out, and a few strokes carried him close to the bank. His foot touched bottom. He swam another stroke or two and put his feet down to walk ashore. Then he gave a cry of terror as he felt himself sinking down, down, down into the terrible, black, clinging mud. He tried to raise his foot, but only sank the deeper. Already he was in mud above his knees, and his nose was frightfully close to the surface of the water. Through his head flashed the memory of the oyster stakes in the muddy bottom of the Bay—six feet deep in the mud, so Sailor Bishop had told him, and held so tight that they could not be pulled out. A fresh wave of fear swept over him.
But he fought desperately to keep his wits. He realized that his broad shoes would not go down into the mud like the sharpened ends of poles. He stood perfectly still to see whether or not he was still sinking deeper. When he realized that he was not, he could have shouted for joy. The tide was running out, and the water would not come up over his head, even if the mud did hold him prisoner for a time. But soon he realized that cold could kill him quite as effectively as water. For now that the fear of drowning had left him, he became conscious of the fact that he was shaking all over and that his teeth were chattering terribly. He must get out and get out at once. But how should he get out? He dared not move, lest he sink deeper into the mud. And there did not appear to be a soul anywhere around. There were no lights near. It was supper time, and everybody had gone home for the night.
Suddenly he heard the steady put-put-put of a motor-boat coming up the river. The sound drew near.
"Help! Help! Help!" cried Alec at the top of his voice.
But the boat continued to chug steadily upstream, its rhythmic put-put-put-put drowning out all sound of Alec's feeble cries. Again and again Alec called for help, but the boat went steadily on. It passed the craft moored below Alec. It came abreast of the oyster-float. Still Alec's cries were unheard. As the boat came directly opposite him, Alec gathered his remaining strength for a last effort and fairly screamed, "Help! Help! Help!"
There was a sudden commotion on the motor-boat. The steersman rose to his feet and peered into the darkness. A second man shut off the engine.
"Hello!" hailed a voice from the boat. "Where are you?"
"Back of the oyster-float near shore," cried Alec. "I'm stuck in the mud."
"Stand still and we'll get you in a minute," came the quick response.
"Put-put-put," went the little motor-boat again, and in another moment it was alongside the float. A sailor leaped from the boat, with a coil of rope in his hand. He splashed his way across the float, calling, "Where are you?"
"Right here," called Alec, raising his arms above the water and waving them in air.
"Catch this rope," answered the sailor, and a line came whizzing straight into Alec's upraised arms.
"I've got it," said Alec.
"Tie it under your arms and hold fast."
Alec's hands shook so that he could hardly knot the rope, but finally he had it fast about his chest. He grasped the rope at arms' length. "All right," he cried.
"Heave ho!" sang the voice on the float. "Here you come, my hearty." And the rope tightened.
Alec pulled on the rope as hard as he could, and worked his feet loose. The instant he was free from the mud, he went skimming through the water to the side of the float, where strong arms lifted him up.
"You didn't have much to go on," said the sailor. "It's a darned good thing for you that the tide was running out instead of in. Who are you, and how'd you come to get in the water? Been drinking?"
"My name's Alec Cunningham, and I belong on the Bertha B. Somebody threw me overboard." Alec's teeth were chattering so that he couldn't say another word.
"Drunk as a fool," said the sailor. "Bagley don't have any hand named Cunningham. Wish I knowed where he belonged."
"I'm not drunk," said Alec, shivering more violently than before, "and I do belong on the Bertha B. Just went to work this morning."
"Maybe he ain't drunk," said the steersman on the boat, as they stepped aboard. "Maybe he does belong on her. We'll go see. We got to take him somewhere darned quick or he'll freeze to death."
The motor-boat was headed down-stream and in a few minutes came alongside the Bertha B. "Hello, Bagley!" called the steersman.
"Hello!" cried the skipper on the Bertha B, coming out on deck.
"Do you know a young fellow named Cunningham? Says he belongs to your crew."
"Sure I do. What's happened to him?"
"We got him here. Just fished him out of the river."
"The deuce you did! Get him in here quick before he freezes."
Alec was helped aboard the Bertha B. He tried to thank the men who had rescued him.
"Shut up and git in there by the fire," shouted Captain Bagley.
Alec hustled into the cabin. In all his life fire had never felt so good.
"Boys," said Captain Bagley, "you saved a darned nice kid. How'd he git in the water?"
"Says somebody throwed him in. Don't look as though he was drunk, though."
"No. He ain't drunk. And if he says somebody throwed him in, why, somebody did. I'll find out about this. Good night." Captain Bagley turned toward his cabin. "The old rip!" he muttered. "I knowed he was a bad actor, but I never dreamed he'd attempt murder."
Then the captain was inside the cabin. "Strip them clothes off, quick!" he called to Alec. Then turning to the engineer, he said, "What you standing there for, Joe? Git the coffee-pot on and stir up the fire."
Captain Bagley seemed equal to any emergency. Before you could bat an eye he had pulled the wet garments from Alec's shivering form and was rubbing him with a rough towel. He rubbed until Alec's skin was aglow. Then he dived into his bunk and from his locker drew out a clean suit of heavy woolen underwear.
"Warm these," he said, handing the garments to Joe, while he himself fell to rubbing and slapping Alec with his hands.
"Now git into them duds quick," he ordered, as Joe passed Alec the underclothes, which he had been holding before the fire.
As Alec pulled on the warm clothes, the captain said, "Git this inside you," and he poured out a cup of black coffee that was smoking hot.
Alec downed the draught, though it almost burned his mouth. The captain poured another cup.
"Drink it," he said. Again he turned to the engineer. "See if Dick's got any lemons in his cupboard."
The engineer found some. "Give 'em to me," said the captain. In a second he had cut them in half and was squeezing out the juice. "Put a quart of water over the open fire, Joe," he said.
Joe got the water. Captain Bagley poured the lemon juice into it, and added some sugar. In no time the mixture was steaming.
"Drink it," said the captain.
"I'm full," said Alec. "I just had two cups of hot coffee."
"Shut up and drink it," said the captain.
As Alec took the proffered draught and began to sip it, the captain roared, "Drink it!" And Alec downed the whole quart.
"Now stand just as close to the fire as you can. Joe, put on more draft. Can't you get her any hotter?"
The stove was already cherry red, but that did not satisfy the energetic skipper. Joe poked up the fire and Alec got as close to the stove as he could. Soon he began to perspire profusely.
"Good!" said the oyster skipper, as he saw the beads of sweat gather and run down Alec's face. "Now, you young rascal, tell us how all this happened."
Briefly Alec related the story of his adventure.
"Who done it?" demanded Captain Bagley.
"I—I—I wouldn't like to say," said Alec, "because I am not absolutely certain. I'd hate to accuse any man of attempting to commit murder unless I was sure. I never really saw the man because it was so dark."
"Ain't you got any idea who it was?"
"All I've got to go on is the voice. I could hear that in the dark as well as in the light."
"Had you heard it before?"
"Yes, sir. It sounded very much like the voice of the man you discharged."
"I reckon you are right, youngster. I reckon you are right. I only wish you was a little more certain about it. He ought to go to prison. But I'd like to have sufficient evidence to make a case before I have him arrested. Maybe I can find somebody who seen him in that neighborhood. I'll scout around a bit and see what I can pick up."
"I wouldn't want him imprisoned," said Alec. "He didn't do me any harm, even if he did try to."
"We don't know yet whether he did you any harm or not, and anyhow, that's got nothing to do with it. We can't afford to have that sort of cattle running at large."
Captain Bagley sat down and pondered over the matter for some time. "How do you feel?" he asked suddenly.
"Pretty good," said Alec, "though my head aches something fierce. I reckon it's from the bump I got."
"Well, that settles it. You don't ketch no oysters to-morrow."
"What do you mean?" asked Alec.
"I mean that you are not going out to the oyster grounds."
"Indeed I am," said Alec. "I'd be a nice sort of a pill to lay off when you're so short handed, just because I got a ducking."
"Don't you give me any back talk," said the skipper, "or I'll throw you overboard again. I know a lot more about falling into cold water than you do. You may have a high fever by morning. And anyway, it's going to be a darned nasty day. There's a storm brewin', and you'd more than likely get sick. Then I would be up against it, wouldn't I, with only three hands to work two dredges. I've got to have men I can depend upon."
"You can depend upon me," protested Alec. "I'll work even if I am sick. Won't you let me go, please? I just can't afford to lose a day. I need the money so bad, sir."
"What for? You got a place to sleep and plenty to eat. Why do you need money so bad?"
Alec turned his face away from the captain. "It's some bills I owe at home," he said. There were tears in his voice, though he kept them out of his eyes, and the captain forbore to question him.
"All right, lad," he said, in a tone of wonderful tenderness, "you shall have your day's work. But you will have to do it ashore. I'll get one of Zipp's men to help me and you can help Zipp."
"Who's Zipp, and what does he do?"
"Oh! That's Frank Jordan, the foreman of the scow gang. Zipp's his nickname. He handles the oysters after we put them on the float. Now you just stay by the fire and sweat, while I go to the office and talk to the captain."
Captain Bagley let himself into the office with his key, turned up the lights, and in a moment was talking to Captain Rumford over the telephone.
"Sure," said the boss, when Captain Bagley had told him of Alec's mishap and his plan for an exchange of men. "I'll call up Zipp right away, and one of his men will be on hand in the morning. Leave the kid in the office if you get away before Zipp gets there. We'll take good care of him."
So it came about that when the Bertha B sailed for the oyster grounds next morning, Alec was not aboard of her. He passed a restless night in his bunk, and was astir the moment Dick arrived to start breakfast. He pulled on his clothes and set about helping the cook, who knew nothing whatever about Alec's adventure. He raked the fire, put on fresh coal, filled the coffee-pot with water from the cask on deck, and tried to make himself unobtrusively helpful. His head still ached, and he did not feel very well. In his secret heart he was glad enough that the captain would not allow him to go out to the oyster grounds.
When he had eaten his breakfast, Alec went ashore with the skipper, while the boats moored outside the Bertha B were casting loose. Captain Bagley opened the office and stirred the fire.
"Keep it warm in here," he said to Alec. "You can set and sleep in this easy chair, or you can lay down on a bunk in the other room. Now take care of yourself." And the captain was off.
For a time Alec sat by the fire, thinking over the events of the past few days. Then he fell to meditating on what he ought to do with himself. He had never had a consuming desire to do any one thing in life in preference to all other tasks, as some boys have. Always he had cared more for boats and the water than for any other form of sport; but it had never occurred to him that boating might in some sense become his life-work. Now the possibility seemed very real, and not at all distasteful. But if he became an oysterman, he wanted to be more than merely a deck-hand. He wanted to climb up, to be at the top of the business instead of the bottom. When he remembered what he had been told as to the difficulties of becoming an oyster-planter and of the large amount of money required, he could see no way to achieve such an end. He did not see how he could ever earn and save enough money to buy an oyster-boat. Alec was a lad of good sense, however, and after speculating about the matter for a time, he suddenly said to himself, "This is all foolishness. You don't even know yet whether or not you want to be an oysterman. If you do, the best way to succeed is to learn all about the business you can. So you had better get out and make use of your time, instead of loafing here."
He left the office and went down to the pier shed. Practically all the oyster-boats had cast off and were on their way to the Bay. Alec could see their lights twinkling in the darkness over a long stretch of river. It was still too early for those who worked about the piers to be on hand, so Alec had the pier shed pretty much to himself. He walked up and down, looking at everything that interested him.
Presently the night-watchman came along, lantern in hand, and looked at him pretty sharply. "Looking for somebody?" he asked; and Alec saw the man was suspicious of him.
"Just waiting for Captain Rumford or some of his scow men," said Alec. "I'm working for the captain. Went out on the Bertha B yesterday, but I'm going to work here to-day."
The watchman seemed satisfied. "You're working for a fine man," he said. "There ain't none better than Captain Rumford."
Together they strolled along until they came to Captain Rumford's pier. In the slip were four oyster scows, their bottoms littered with old shells. All the other scows about had been cleaned and put in order.
"The captain won't like that," said the watchman. "That's twice lately that nobody got his shells. He's the very deuce for having things orderly."
"What do you mean?" asked Alec. "Was somebody supposed to take those shells away?" And he thought of the old man he had been following when he was thrown overboard.
"Sure. There are several fellows that collect 'em, and the captain always gives 'em to the first fellow that asks for 'em, though old Pete usually gets 'em. But the captain don't care who takes 'em, so his scows are clean."
"What does anybody want old oyster shells for?" demanded Alec. "Why, I saw an old man with a whole boat load of them."
"They want 'em to sell," explained the watchman. "Guess you don't know much about the oyster business yet."
"Don't know a thing," said Alec. "Never saw an oyster-boat before yesterday. I can't imagine how anybody could sell all the shells that old fellow had in his boat."
"A fellow could sell a million bushels of 'em if he had 'em," said the watchman. "You know the oyster-planters put these shells back in the oyster-beds in spring. They buy 'em back from these fellows at five cents a bushel."
"What!" exclaimed Alec. "The planters sow oyster shells in their beds! Surely you can't grow little oysters from old shells!"
The watchman laughed heartily at Alec. "Of course you can't grow little oysters from old shells. But you can grow 'em on old shells."
"I don't understand."
"Why, the little oysters—spats we calls 'em—just floats about in the water after they are born, and if they didn't have anything to fasten to, they'd all die and be lost. There ain't nothin' they can fasten to on the mud bottoms, so the oystermen puts down old shells and the spats makes fast to 'em."
"Well, I never!" exclaimed Alec. "There's a whole lot more to oystering than I ever dreamed. I reckon what you say accounts for the way oysters grow in clusters. We dredged up lots of clusters of oysters with four or five oysters stuck together. And now that I think of it, I remember that there were usually one or two old shells in each cluster."
"I reckon Captain Rumford will be right mad when he sees them shells in the scows," said the watchman. "I heard him giving Pete—that's the old fellow you spoke of—the deuce only last week for not getting the scows clean on time. You see, it's the rush season. Help is short, and it's all the captain can do to keep up with his orders. Now these scows will have to be cleaned before any more oysters can be fetched."
"Then I'll clean them," said Alec, and getting some baskets, he dropped into the nearest scow. The watchman moved on about his work.
In no time Alec had the scow clean and her burlap sacks piled neatly in the centre. He hoisted his baskets of shells to the pier and tackled the next scow.
Captain Rumford was on hand before any of his men came. "Who put those shells there?" he demanded, noticing the baskets Alec had placed along the edge of the pier.
"I did, sir," said Alec, somewhat fearfully.
"You did! Where did you get them, and what did you do it for?"
"I got them out of the scows, sir. They hadn't been cleaned."
"The deuce they hadn't. That's twice Pete has left my scows full of shells within two weeks. We've got to have some better method of getting rid of old shells. Can't stand this. Busy as all fiddlesticks and our scows full of shells when we come to work.
"Say, boy," said Captain Rumford after a moment's pause, "who told you to clean out those scows?"
"Nobody, sir. I thought it would help along with the day's work and I did it. I didn't know what else to do with them, so I put them in the baskets I found here."
"You've got some sense, lad. Keep on that way and you'll be an oyster shipper before you can vote."
Zipp and his two scow men soon arrived. The captain lent Alec his boots, which were far too large for Alec, and one of the scow men gave him a reefing-jacket. A motor-boat lay in the slip. Zipp started the engine, while the other men made fast the scows, and soon the little party was chugging off to an oyster-float. The four scow men sat in the motor-boat and the scows were towed behind. With great oyster-forks, somewhat like enlarged spading forks, the gang shoveled the oysters from the float into the scows. It was hard work, for the forks were large and the oysters heavy. When the oysters were all taken up, the scows were towed back to the shipping pier and made fast in the slip again. Then the counting began.
Zipp showed Alec how to count his oysters, two at a cast. The four counters dropped to their knees and began work. But Alec paused for a moment to watch his companions. He saw that Zipp could count oysters faster than either of the two other scow men, just as Sailor Bishop could cull them faster than either Joe or Dick. Alec watched Zipp closely, to see how he worked. Then he set himself to the task of learning how to count fast. He still had the finger-stalls he had worn the day before and the sharp shells did not hurt his fingers in the least. In a little while he was making the oysters fairly fly.
Basket after basket, the oysters were shoved up on the pier, where other workers emptied them into sacks. Captain Rumford himself sewed the sacks up and kept a watchful eye on things. In no time, there was a long row of sacks standing ready for shipment.
"Just keep track of the number of baskets that lad hands up," whispered the shipper to an assistant. "We'll time him for an hour." Thus Alec underwent another test, though he was altogether in ignorance of the fact that his work was being watched.
At every pier men were counting oysters, while other men filled the sacks and trundled them off to the waiting freight-cars. The place was as busy as a beehive, yet there was no noise or confusion. No swearing, no loud talk, disturbed the general quiet. Only the rumble of the trucks, as men trundled the sacked oysters over the plank floor, rose above the subdued hum.
"Hour's up!" said Captain Rumford, glancing at his watch, after a time. "How many baskets did the kid count?"
"Seventy-seven."
"The deuce he did! Why, that's ten thousand oysters. Of course Zipp's crew average about 11,000 an hour, but they're the best crew here. The average counter won't handle more than 8,000 to 9,000 an hour. The kid's quick."
Presently the skipper got his shipping tags and tied them on the sacks. Then a man with a truck began to wheel the sacks away to the cars.
Dinner time came. All hands went up to the office to eat their lunches, about the warm stove.
"Here," said Zipp, seeing that Alec had nothing to eat, "have a sandwich."
"No. Thanks," said Alec, rather diffidently. "I am not very hungry." But his eyes belied his tongue.
"That won't do at all," said the skipper. "Take this and run over to the hotel and get a good square meal."
Alec protested. The oyster shipper shoved a dollar into his hand.
"Now run along, quick," he said, "for we've got to get right back to work as soon as we can. And none of us can work without food."
Alec was glad enough when Captain Rumford insisted, and taking the money, he hurried away to get his dinner. The long table fairly groaned under the array of good things, and every diner was free to eat as much as he liked. For the first time in his life, Alec ate oyster potpie; and wished he could hold more. His dinner cost him seventy-five cents, and Alec began to understand how fortunate he was to be eating aboard the Bertha B. Even if his pay should prove to be small, he could still save something, and he needed money desperately.
Alec intended to give back to Captain Rumford the twenty-five cents left from his dollar. But the men were already in the scows when he got back and Captain Rumford was up in his office. Alec went to work, and forgot about the quarter.
All the afternoon Alec worked as fast as he could make his fingers fly. He was working alongside of Zipp, one of the most expert oyster counters at Bivalve; and it provoked Alec that he could not hand up the baskets as fast as his fellow. But try as he would, he could not fill the basket as rapidly as Zipp did. The oysters were all counted and sacked before the Bertha B came chugging up to her pier. Alec went aboard her as soon as she made fast, and the cook considerately gave him his supper.
Then Dick went off to buy supplies for the next day. Alec asked if he might go along. They got a roast of meat, some sausage, canned beans, butter, bread, condensed milk, and other articles.
Captain Bagley, meantime, had gone to the office to make his daily report to Captain Rumford. That done, he started for a store to buy a cigar, when the postmaster hailed him. "Say, Cap'n," he said, "you don't know anything about a party named Cunningham, do you? I've got a letter addressed to an Alec Cunningham, care of Thomas Robinson. You and Robinson used to be such pals I thought you might know something about it."
"You've come to just the right place. That's Robinson's nephew. He's a member of my crew now. I'll just get that letter and give it to the kid."
When Captain Bagley returned to the Bertha B Alec was sitting alone in the cabin.
"Here's a letter for you, Alec," said the skipper.
Alec tore the letter open and ran his eye over it. Tears came into his eyes, and he bowed his head on his chest.
"What's wrong, lad?" asked the skipper, kindly.
Alec could not trust himself to reply. He merely thrust the letter into the skipper's hand.
Captain Bagley read the communication and frowned. "He's pretty much of a skunk," he said.
The letter was an imperative demand for the balance due on the tombstone Alec had ordered for his father. Unless this were first received, the letter said, the stone would not be set up.
"I judge you paid him something?" said the captain questioningly.
"Paid him half the price. It took every cent I had. That's why I landed here without a penny. And that's why I need money so bad. Oh! I must get it somehow. I must! I must!"
"Now, don't you worry about this," said the kindly oysterman. "We can fix it up for you somehow."
But Alec refused to be comforted.
Morning found Alec refreshed in body, but not entirely relieved in mind. He had loved his father dearly, and the thought that his father's body lay out in the cold, bleak cemetery without even a headstone to mark his resting-place, troubled Alec sorely. The very least he could do in memory of his father, it seemed to Alec, was to erect a marker above the grave.
To do this, he had gotten together all the money he could, and given it to a Central City monument dealer with the understanding that the latter was to set up the stone Alec selected and Alec was to pay the balance due on the stone as soon as he found work and could earn the money. But like many another man, this one had taken advantage of youth. He had pocketed the money without carrying out his part of the bargain. That was bad enough. But Alec now felt no certainty that the stone would be erected after he had paid for it in full; and that was worse still. So it was a very much troubled and worried lad that tumbled out of Alec's bunk when Dick arrived to start breakfast.
It was fortunate for Alec that he possessed such a helpful disposition. He found a number of things to do for the cook. He stirred up the fire, got water for the coffee, punched holes in the condensed milk can, cut the bread, and made himself generally useful; and in work he found relief from his troubles. He could not keep his mind on his work and his troubles at the same time; and he had to keep it on his work.
And when breakfast was over and he had dried the dishes, there were so many things he wanted to ask the captain about. All that he had learned about oyster-culture was so interesting it made him want to learn more. And by this time he realized that there was much, much more to know.
"Captain Bagley," said Alec, when the Bertha B was fairly under way, "the pier watchman was telling me that the oystermen spread old shells over their oyster-beds for the young oysters to attach themselves to. How can oysters move about in the water? I should think their shells would keep them on the bottom, even though they are very small. Why, a grain of sand can't float, and see how much smaller that is than an oyster."
"Yes. It's smaller than a grown oyster, but many times as large as a brand-new oyster. And besides, oysters just born don't have any shells."
Alec looked sharply at the captain, but could not detect the faintest twinkle in his eye. "Honest?" he asked. "You're not stringing me?"
"Not a bit of it, son. Why, a new-born oyster is so small you can't even see it."
"Now I know you're teasing me."
"Indeed, I am not. You have to have a microscope to see an oyster that has just been born. They have to be very small, for a single oyster gives birth to millions of little ones. These don't have no shells at all. And then the tide sweeps 'em in and out, so I reckon they get scattered pretty much everywhere in the neighborhood of the oyster-beds."
"But how do they grow fast to old shells and other oysters if they have no shells themselves?"
"Oh! They get shells quick enough. And as soon as they do, they sink to the bottom and fasten themselves to the first clean rock or shell they come to. If they don't hit a rock or shell, they sink in the mud and die. Of course, there ain't no rocks on our mud bottom, and that's why we have to put shells on the beds. And we no sooner get the bed covered with shells than we have to scrub 'em, to get the mud off of 'em."
"Scrub them!" exclaimed Alec. "What do you mean?"
"Can't you understand English? I mean just what I say—scrub 'em, to get the dirt off."
Alec still looked incredulous. "How?" he demanded.
"Oh! We drag the dredges over the beds without any bags on. It scours 'em off pretty well. They are pretty clean before we get through."
"But is it really necessary? Did anybody ever see a tiny oyster make fast to an old shell?"
"I don't know, son. But I know this: We have to make sure our shells is clean. We wait till the oysters is about ready to tie up to something and then we scrub the shells."
"My gracious! If there are so many little oysters and you put down so many shells to catch them, I should think there would be more oysters than you would know what to do with."
"Does seem that way, don't it? Fact is, though, that mighty few of them little ones ever gits to be oysters."
"Why not?"
"I reckon it's largely on account of what doctors would call 'infant mortality.' All sorts of things eats 'em. Mussels, and clams, and barnacles, and old oysters, and turtles, and worms, and sea-squirts, and drills, all eat oysters at some time or other. Down east the starfish plays hob with the oyster-beds. We don't have many of them things here, and I'm glad of it. If we did, I don't know how we'd ever raise any oysters. Why, even as it is, we don't get more than one oyster out of every six we plant."
"How do you know?"
"Why, we know how many bushels we plant and how many we ketch when they're old enough to be dredged. We plant about 500 bushels to an acre and we'd like to plant a thousand if we could get 'em. They're about the size of your thumb nail and there's about 700 to 900 seed-oysters in a bushel. By the time we dredge 'em we won't get more'n a basket for every bushel we planted. How many's that? You ought to know. You counted oysters all day yesterday."
"A basket contains 68 casts," said Alec proudly, "and that's 136 oysters."
"Correct. And if you multiply that number by six, you'll have just about the number of seed-oysters in a bushel."
"If the loss is so great, I should think you would plant the full thousand bushels per acre instead of five hundred."
"We would if we could get 'em, son. But you know we get our seed-oysters out of the natural beds, and we can't dredge there except in May and June, between sunrise and sunset each day. We get all we can, of course. And then we buy some from the bushelmen."
"What are they?"
"Oh! Fellows that have small boats but no beds. They dredge what they can get and sell the seed to planters."
"They're something like the stake stickers."
"Most of 'em are stake stickers. They ketch seed-oysters in spring and stick stakes in fall."
"I should think they'd get enough money to have their own oyster-beds after a time."
"Some of 'em do, but there ain't much money in oysters unless you have a good equipment. Why, a first-class oyster-boat, with up-to-date engine and machinery, is worth fourteen or fifteen thousand dollars. And then there's your scows and floats and motor-boats, and a lot of other things. Why, a pair of dredges alone is worth $150. And then after you do get a bed and plant it, you've got to wait three years before your oysters is big enough to ketch. Why, a fellow's got to have nearly enough money to retire on before he can make a start in the oyster business."
Alec looked very sober. "I believe there isn't any use of a fellow like me trying to become an oyster-planter," he thought. "I couldn't earn and save fifteen thousand dollars—ever."
"Think you'd like to be an oysterman?" asked Captain Bagley, looking searchingly at Alec.
"I don't know," said Alec. "I've got to do something, and I think I like oystering as much as anything I ever saw. But I want to get to the top if I become one."
"Well, the best way to get to the top is to start at the bottom—and work. The oyster shippers are always on the watch for bright young fellows that know the business and ain't afraid of work. Many a fellow has worked himself up to a partnership in an oyster firm that started just where you are—at the bottom."
By this time the Bertha B was nearing the oyster grounds. Alec got into the captain's oilskins again and was in his place on deck when the captain gave the word to let go the dredges.
This time Alec needed no instructions. He took hold like an old-timer. He was working with Sailor Bishop again, and once more he set himself to try to learn his companion's trick of culling oysters fast. He grew more and more expert as the hours passed, and was soon able to keep pace with Joe and Dick, neither of whom was very quick; but to save him, Alec could not fill his baskets as fast as Bishop filled his. One reason for Bishop's speed, Alec found, lay in the sailor's huge hands. His fingers were the longest Alec had ever seen. The sailor often picked up three or four oysters at a time. And long practice had made him so expert that he could often detect a rattler without having to tap it with his hammer.
In a little while the novelty of the work wore off, but still Alec found plenty to interest him. His work in biology had given him a keen interest in all forms of life. The marine life about him was new, and Alec found continual delight in the contents of the dredges. Now a crab was brought up. Again some curious fish like a "toady," as ugly and venomous in appearance as Shakespeare's land toad, came flopping on the deck; but apparently it had no redeeming jewel in its head, for the sailors treated it with supreme contempt. Sometimes a king-crab was caught in the dredge—a curious, brown, horseshoe-shaped creature, with a long, straight tail of shell. And often there came tumbling aboard oyster drills, which looked like tiny conchs. There were quantities of sponge-like plant growths and red moss, like scarlet seaweed. And once there was real excitement as a huge turtle came flopping aboard. It must have been two feet in diameter, with clusters of barnacles on its shell as big as one's fist, and a terrible beak that could take a finger off at a single snap.
"Now we'll have some turtle soup," said Sailor Bishop, as he turned the creature on its back and shoved it out of the way.
Before Alec knew it, the day's work was done, and the Bertha B was on her homeward way. In an old dead tree that stood by itself in the salt meadow Alec saw what looked like a mass of driftwood; but the captain said it was an osprey's nest. Alec studied the distant nest through a telescope the captain lent him. It was a huge thing, three or four feet in diameter, made of old sticks. Later still Alec saw an osprey soaring not far astern of the Bertha B. Even as he watched it, the huge bird suddenly tilted downward and fell like a plummet into the water. A moment later it rose from the waves, with a glistening fish in its talons. On every hand there seemed to be new and interesting things to see.
The next day Alec had his first touch of seasickness. The wind was blowing half a gale when the Bertha B reached the oyster grounds, and the little boat jumped about in a way that at first alarmed Alec considerably. But when he saw that the sailors regarded the movement of the ship as a matter of course, he forgot his fear. Soon he forgot almost everything else; for his head began to ache, and a feeling of nausea came over him. He had never felt worse in his life. He thought he was going to die but did not seem to care.
"What's the matter?" asked Sailor Bishop. "Getting sick? You look pretty pale."
"I won't get sick if I can help it," said Alec to himself. "I'm going to fight this thing off."
His head seemed to be in a whirl, and he was afraid to try to stand up, lest he be pitched overboard. So he knelt on the deck, braced himself against the movement of the ship, and kept working. Whenever he could, he straightened up and drew in a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air. The air made him feel better. He tried to think about his work and not about himself. And after a time he felt noticeably better. Before the day was past the feeling of nausea had left him entirely, and never thereafter did he suffer from seasickness.
Being a Friday, it was pay-day, though Alec did not know it. When the Bertha B again lay at her pier at the end of the day, the crew did not hurry ashore as they had done every other day, though the captain left the boat the instant she was fast. Presently he returned with a roll of bills in his hand. He counted out each man's pay and handed the money around. Then the sailors left fast enough. When they were gone, the captain turned to Alec.