Chapter 4

CHAPTER IV

Harvey waked to find the "first half" at 'breakfast, the fo'c'sle
door drawn to a crack, and every square inch of the schooner
singing its own tune. The black bulk of the cook balanced behind
the tiny galley over the glare of the stove, and the pots and pans
in the pierced wooden board before it jarred and racketed to each
plunge. Up and up the fo'c'sle climbed, yearning and surging and
quivering, and then, with a clear, sickle-like swoop, came down
into the seas. He could hear the flaring bows cut and squelch, and
there was a pause ere the divided waters came down on the deck
above, like a volley of buck-shot. Followed the woolly sound of
the cable in the hawse-hole; a grunt and squeal of the windlass; a
yaw, a punt, and a kick, and the "We're Here" gathered herself
together to repeat the motions.

"Now, ashore," he heard Long Jack saying, "ye've chores, an' ye
must do thim in any weather. Here we're well clear of the fleet,
an' we've no chores - an' that's a blessin'. Good night, all." He
passed like a big snake from the table to his bunk, and began to
smoke. Tom Platt followed his example; Uncle Salters, with Penn,
fought his way up the ladder to stand his watch, and the cook set
for the "second half."

It came out of its bunks as the others had entered theirs, with a
shake and a yawn. It ate till it could eat no more; and then
Manuel filled his pipe with some terrible tobacco, crotched
himself between the pawl-post and a forward bunk, cocked his feet
up on the table, and smiled tender and indolent smiles at the
smoke. Dan lay at length in his bunk, wrestling with a gaudy,
gilt-stopped accordion, whose tunes went up and down with the
pitching of the "We're Here". The cook, his shoulders against the
locker where he kept the fried pies (Dan was fond of fried pies),
peeled potatoes, with one eye on the stove in event of too much
water finding its way down the pipe; and the general smell and
smother were past all description.

Harvey considered affairs, wondered that he was not deathly sick,
and crawled into his bunk again, as the softest and safest place,
while Dan struck up, "I don't want to play in your yard," as
accurately as the wild jerks allowed.

"How long is this for?" Harvey asked of Manuel.

"Till she get a little quiet, and we can row to trawl. Perhaps to-
night. Perhaps two days more. You do not like? Eh, wha-at?"

"I should have been crazy sick a week ago, but it doesn't seem to
upset me now - much."

"That is because we make you fisherman, these days. If I was you,
when I come to Gloucester I would give two, three big candles for
my good luck."

"Give who?"

"To be sure - the Virgin of our Church on the Hill.