There was quite a little bubble at the bows, where some irresponsible Bank current held the dory full stretch on her rope; but they could not see a boat’s length in any direction.
Harvey turned up his collar and bunched himself over his reel with the air of a wearied navigator. Fog had no special terrors for him now.
They fished a while in silence, and found the cod struck on well. Then Dan drew the sheath-knife and tested the edge of it on the gunwale.
“That’s a daisy,” said Harvey. “How did you get it so cheap?”
“On account o’ their blame Cath’lic superstitions,” said Dan, jabbing with the bright blade. “They don’t fancy takin’ iron from off a dead man, so to speak. ’See them Arichat Frenchmen step back when I bid?”
“But an auction ain’t taking anythink off a dead man. It’s business.”
“ We know it ain’t, but there’s no goin’ in the teeth o’ superstition. That’s one o’ the advantages o’ livin’ in a progressive country.” And Dan began whistling:
“Oh, Double Thatcher, how are you? Now Eastern Point comes inter view. The girls an’ boys we soon shall see, At anchor off Cape Ann!”
“Why didn’t that Eastport man bid, then? He bought his boots. Ain’t Maine progressive?”
“Maine? Pshaw! They don’t know enough, or they hain’t got money enough, to paint their haouses in Maine. I’ve seen ’em. The Eastport man he told me that the knife had been used—so the French captain told him—used up on the French coast last year.”
“Cut a man? Heave ’s the muckle.”