CHAPTER I HARVEY MAKES AN ACQUAINTANCE
An Atlantic Transport Line steamship lay at its pier in the city ofBaltimore, on a November day. There were indications, everywhere about,that the hour of its departure for Europe was approaching. A hum ofexcitement filled the air. Clouds of dark smoke, ascending skyward fromthe steamer, threw a thin canopy here and there over little groups ofpersons gathered upon the pier to bid farewell to friends. Clerks andbelated messengers darted to and fro among them. An occasional officer,in ship's uniform, gave greeting to some acquaintance and spoke hopefullyof the voyage.
Among all these, a big, tall, broad-shouldered man, whose face, floridand smiling, gave evidence of abundant good spirits, stood, with one handresting upon a boy's shoulder. A woman accompanied them, who now and thenraised a handkerchief to her eyes and wiped away a tear.
"There!" exclaimed the man, suddenly, "do you see that, Jack? You'dbetter come along with us. It isn't too late. Ma doesn't want to leaveyou behind. If there's anything I can't stand, it's to see a woman cry."
The boy, in return, gave a somewhat contemptuous glance toward thesteamship.
"I don't want to go," he said. "What's the fun going to sea in a thinglike that? Have to dress up and look nice all the time. If it was only aship--"
He didn't have a chance to finish the sentence.
"Jack Harvey!" exclaimed his mother, eying him with great disapprovalthrough her tears, "why did you wear that awful sweater down here, to seeus off? If you only knew how you look! I'm ashamed to have folks seeyou."
Harvey's father burst into a hearty roar of laughter.
"Isn't that just like a woman?" he chuckled. "Crying about leaving Jack,with one eye, and looking at his clothes with the other. Why, Martha, Itell you he looks fine. None of your milk-sop lads for me!" And he gavehis son a slap of approval that made even that stalwart youth wince.
"Why, when I was Jack's age," continued the elder Harvey, warming to thesubject and raising his voice accordingly, "I didn't know where the nextsuit of clothes was coming from."
Mrs. Harvey glanced apprehensively over her shoulder, to see who waslistening.
"Guess I wasn't much older than Jack," went on the speaker, thrusting hishands into his pockets and jingling the coins therein, "when I wasworking in the mines out west and wherever I could pick up a job."
"Now, William," interrupted Mrs. Harvey, "you know you've told us allabout that a hundred times--"
She, herself, was interrupted.
"You've got just a minute to go aboard, sir," said one of the pieremployees, addressing Mr. Harvey. "You'll be left, if you don't hurry."
Jack Harvey's father gave him a vigorous handshake, and another slapacross the shoulder. Mrs. Harvey took him in her arms, despised sweaterand all, and kissed him good-bye. The next moment, the boy found himselfalone on the pier, waving to his parents, as the gang-plank was hauledback.
The liner slowly glided out into the harbour, a cloud of handkerchiefsfluttering along its rail, in answer to a similar demonstration upon thepier.
Jack Harvey's father, gazing back approvingly at his son, strove tocomfort and cheer the spirits of his wife.
"Jack's all right," said he. "Hang me, if I wasn't just such another whenI was his age. I didn't want anybody mollycoddling me. He'll take care ofhimself, all right. Don't you worry. He'll be an inch taller in sixmonths. He knows what he wants, too, better than we do. He'll have morefun up in Benton this winter than he'd have travelling around Europe.There he goes. Take a last look at him, Martha. Confound the scamp! Ikind of wish he'd taken a notion to come along with us."
If Jack Harvey had any such misgiving as to his decision to spend thewinter in Maine, with his boon companions, Henry Burns and the Warrenboys, and Tom Harris and Bob White and little Tim Reardon and all theothers, in preference to touring Europe with his father and mother, heshowed no sign of it. He whistled a tune as the liner went down theharbour, watched the smoke pour in black clouds from its funnel, thenturned and walked away from the pier.
A glance at the sturdy figure, as he went along, would have satisfiedanyone of the truth of the assertion of Harvey's father, that he was ableto take care of himself. The black sweater, albeit it rested under thedisapproval and scorn of Mrs. Harvey, covered a broad, deep chest thatindicated vigorous health; his thick winter jacket hung upon shouldersthat were rounded and muscular. He swung along with the ease and carriagethat told of athletic training. And the advantage of the sweater to oneof his active temperament was apparent, in that, although the air had asomewhat icy tinge, he was unencumbered by any overcoat--an economy ofdress that afforded him freedom.
Freedom! His was, indeed, freedom now in all things. It came over himstrongly, as he walked alone in the city in which he was a totalstranger, how free he was to act as he pleased. His parents, whoexercised little restraint over him at the most, were now being borneswiftly down the bay toward the ocean, and he should not see them againfor six long months. He, himself, was due to arrive back in Benton asfast as trains would carry him; but the thought of his absolute freedomfor the time being exhilarated him strangely. He felt like challengingthe first youth he met to box, or wrestle, or race--anything in which hecould exert his utmost strength and let loose his pent-up energies.
Harvey's train was due to leave that evening. He spent the afternoonvigorously, walking miles through streets, exploring here and there,seeing the sights all new to him. He was growing just a bit weary, andvery hungry, and was thinking of returning to the hotel for supper, whenhe emerged from a side street upon a street that ran along the waterfront.
A sight that made his pulses beat faster met his eyes. Almost at hisfeet, a little more than the width of the street away, lay a fleet ofsome thirty or forty fishermen, snuggled all in together, close to alarge float that intervened between them and the wharf. Himself a goodsailor of bay craft, and fond of the water, the picturesqueness of theseboats attracted Harvey greatly.
They were of an odd type, for the most part, unlike anything he had everseen in Maine waters, or anywhere else. They were long, shallow, lightdraft fellows, with no bulwarks; so that as they lay, broadside to thefloat, one might walk across from one to another, without difficulty.Most of them were sharp at bow and stern. The masts had a mostextraordinary rake to them; and in the two-masters, the rig was more likethat of a yawl than the schooners he was accustomed to seeing. In thecase of these, the after mast, or what would correspond to the ordinarymain-mast, was the smaller and shorter of the two; and it raked aft at anangle that suggested to the eye of a stranger that it was about to giveway and go overboard by the stern.
Jack Harvey had heard in the vaguest way of the Chesapeake Bay oystermen;and he surmised at once that this was a part of that fleet. There waslittle about them at the moment, however, to indicate occupation of anysort. Their decks, which were built flush fore and aft, broken only bythe hatches, were swept clean, and their equipment for fishing, ordredging, had been carefully packed away. And, as matter of fact, thevessels Harvey now saw were probably for the most part the carriers forthe fishing fleet, that brought the oysters to market; and so carried nodredging outfits.
Moreover, there was a pleasing suggestion of indolence and coziness inthe smoke that curled out of many funnels from the cook stoves in thecabins, telling of preparations for supper. A few men were idling about,talking together, on this and that boat, in groups. There seemed to be noone working. Not such a bad sort of existence, thought Harvey.
The fishing boats made, indeed, a most attractive picture. Their lines,though not as fine as yachts, were sweeping and graceful; their rigging,simple and of few ropes, formed a network of sharp angles as they lay, ascore deep, by the float; their sloping masts, small and tapering,inclined now all in one direction, like bare trees bending in a breeze.The light that yet remained in the west brought them out in sharp reliefagainst water and sky.
As Harvey stood, watching them, interestedly, a sli
ght accident happened.A screw steamer, docked just at the head of the float, began to revolveits propeller rapidly, preparatory to moving in its berth. The swiftcurrent of water excited by the propeller bore down strongly against thebow of one of the fishermen; and, at that most inopportune moment, thebow line by which the latter was moored, frayed with much wear, parted.The bow swung with the current, and the vessel threatened to crash intoanother lying just below.
The veriest novice might almost have known what was needed; but Harveywas no novice, and certainly did know. He was, moreover, prompt to act. Acoil of rope lay at hand upon the float. Snatching up one loose end ofthis, Harvey quickly gathered a few loops in either hand, swung them andthrew the end aboard the vessel to a man that had run forward. Then hetook a few turns with the other end about a spiling, and held hard. Thevessel brought up, without harm.
"Good for you!" said a voice just behind Harvey. "You saved 'em just intime."
Harvey turned quickly.
The speaker was a thin, sallow youth, some years older, apparently, thanHarvey. His appearance, at first glance, was not wholly prepossessing.His dress, which had a pretence of smartness, was faded and somewhatshabby, but was set off with a gaudy waistcoat and a heavy gold chainadorning its front. His collar was wilted and far from immaculate; butits short-comings found possible compensation in a truly brilliantnecktie, tied sailor-fashion, with flying ends. A much worn derby hat wastilted sidewise on the back of his head.
This youth, who was perhaps eighteen or nineteen years of age, had asmart and presuming manner. He laid a hand familiarly on Harvey'sshoulder, and addressed him as though he had known him a life-time.
"You're all right," he continued. "You took a hitch there like an oldhand. Come on, we'll step aboard and look 'em over."
Almost before he knew it, Harvey was being conducted across the float tothe deck of the first fisherman. He went willingly enough, for thatmatter, for it was exactly what he had been wishing--that he mightinspect them closer. Yet he knew, without any definite reason formingitself in his mind, that his chance acquaintance was not congenial tohim.
"Will they let us go aboard?" he asked.
"Why, of course," replied the stranger. "They don't care. I know a few ofthem, anyway. I'll show you around."
From the first boat, they stepped across to the deck of another,alongside.
"Stranger about here?" inquired the youth of Harvey, casually, giving hima quick, sharp, sidelong glance, as he spoke.
"Yes," replied Harvey; "I am here only for the day. My father and motherjust went off on that liner for Europe."
"Is that so!" responded the other. At the same moment he fell behindHarvey and gave him another sharp, scrutinizing glance from head to foot.Then he added, "So that leaves you all alone, to do as you please, eh?"
Harvey assented. It was his turn to question now.
"You live about here?" he asked; and looked his companion in the face. Itwas an uncertain glance that met his. The small, dark eyes of thestranger gave him no direct, answering glance, but shifted evasively.
"Oh, yes," he responded; "lived here all my life. We're one of the oldfamilies here, but--" and he gave a slighting look at his well wornclothing--"but we've had financial embarrassments lately. The fact is,I've had to drop out of college for a year--"
The youth was interrupted for a moment at this point. He and Harvey,walking forward on the vessel, had come upon two men who were sitting onthe deck by the forecastle. One of them, looking up, burst into a laugh.Harvey turned, quickly.
Whatever it was that had amused the man was not apparent. As Harveyturned and looked at him, he stopped abruptly and pointed off across thewater. Harvey, led by his companion, started aft again.
As the two reversed their steps, the man who had laughed pointed slyly atHarvey's escort.
"He's a slick one, is Artie," he said. "Catches more of 'em, they say,than any runner along the front."
"Got him, do you think?" inquired the other man, nodding toward Harvey.
"Looks promising."
"My name is Jenkins," continued Harvey's companion; "and, as I wassaying, I'm out of college for a year, earning the money to keep on.Don't know as that interests you any--but never mind. What did you say?Queer rig, these boats have?"
"Why, yes, it strikes me so," replied Harvey. "It looks odd to me to seebig vessels like these with no gaffs and these leg-o'-mutton sails."
Again the youth gave Harvey one of those quick, shrewd glances, thatseemed to take in everything about him from cap to shoes.
"Guess you know something about boats," he remarked.
"Well, I own a sloop up in Samoset Bay, in Maine--that is, another fellowand I own it together," replied Harvey, with a touch of pride.
"I knew you were a sailor, the minute I saw you heave that line,"exclaimed the other. And Harvey felt just a bit flattered. PerhapsJenkins wasn't such a bad sort, despite his odd attire.
"Do you see that schooner?" inquired young Mr. Jenkins, suddenly,pointing to a craft with a distinctive schooner rig, the outermost of thevessels that comprised the fleet.
Harvey nodded.
"Well," continued Jenkins, "that's Captain Scroop's boat. She's the bestone of them all, and he's the most obliging and gentlemanly captain thatsails into Baltimore. Come on, we'll go over her."
They walked across the decks to the side of the schooner, and climbedaboard, over the rail. The schooner seemed deserted, save the presence ofa boy of about twelve, who was engaged in chopping a block of stove-woodinto kindlings, near the afterhouse.
"Hello, Joe," said Jenkins.
The boy looked up and nodded, sullenly. He seemed, moreover, to eye Mr.Jenkins with some disfavour.
"Captain Scroop aboard?"
The boy shook his head.
"Well, we're going to look about a bit," said Mr. Jenkins, easily.
He conducted Harvey about the deck, forward and aft, explaining one thingand another; then showed the way to the companion that led to the cabin."Step down," he said to Harvey. "Nice quarters they have aboard here."Then, as Harvey descended, he added, "Make yourself comfortable a moment.I'll be right along."
Seeing Harvey at the foot of the companion-ladder, he turned quickly,stepped to the side of the boy and cuffed him smartly over one ear.
"Here, you," he said, "brace up and say something! There's a dollar in itfor you if we land him. Come to life, now!"
Then he darted after Harvey, down into the cabin.