Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII

To the end of his days, Harvey will never forget that sight. The
sun was just clear of the horizon they had not seen for nearly a
week, and his low red light struck into the riding-sails of three
fleets of anchored schooners - one to the north, one to the
westward, and one to the south. There must have been nearly a
hundred of them, of every possible make and build, with, far away,
a square-rigged Frenchman, all bowing and courtesying one to the
other. From every boat dories were dropping away like bees from a
crowded hive; and the clamour of voices, the rattling of ropes and
blocks, and the splash of the oars carried for miles across the
heaving water. The sails turned all colours, black, pearly-grey,
and white, as the sun mounted; and more boats swung up through the
mists to the southward.

The dories gathered in clusters, separated, reformed, and broke
again, all heading one way; while men hailed and whistled and cat-
called and sang, and the water was speckled with rubbish thrown
overboard.

"It's a town," said Harvey. "Disko was right. It is a town!"

"I've seen smaller," said Disko. "There's about a thousand men
here; an' yonder's the Virgin." He pointed to a vacant space of
greenish sea, where there were no dories.

The "We're Here" skirted round the northern squadron, Disko waving
his hand to friend after friend, and anchored as neatly as a
racing yacht at the end of the season. The Bank fleet pass good
seamanship in silence; but a bungler is jeered all along the line.

"Jest in time fer the caplin," cried the Mary Chilton.

"'Salt 'most wet?" asked the King Philip.

"Hey, Tom Platt! Come t' supper to-night?" said the Henry Clay;
and so questions and answers flew back and forth. Men had met one
another before, dory-fishing in the fog, and there is no place for
gossip like the Bank fleet. They all seemed to know about Harvey's
rescue, and asked if he were worth his salt yet. The young bloods
jested with Dan, who had a lively tongue of his own, and inquired
after their health by the town - nicknames they least liked.
Manuel's countrymen jabbered at him in their own language; and
even the silent cook was seen riding the jib-boom and shouting
Gaelic to a friend as black as himself. After they had buoyed the
cable - all around the Virgin is rocky bottom, and carelessness
means chafed ground-tackle and danger from drifting - after they
had buoyed the cable, their dories went forth to join the mob of
boats anchored about a mile away. The schooners rocked and dipped
at a safe distance, like mother ducks watching their brood, while
the dories behaved like mannerless ducklings.

As they drove into the confusion, boat banging boat, Harvey's