owners, while the We’re Here finished the musical ride through the Fleet, her headsails quivering like a man’s hand when he raises it to say goodbye.
Harvey very soon discovered that the We’re Here , with her riding-sail, strolling from berth to berth, and the We’re Here headed west by south under home canvas, were two very different boats. There was a bite and kick to the wheel even in “boy’s” weather; he could feel the dead weight in the hold flung forward mightily across the surges, and the streaming line of bubbles overside made his eyes dizzy.
Disko kept them busy fiddling with the sails; and when those were flattened like a racing yacht’s, Dan had to wait on the big topsail, which was put over by hand every time she went about.
In spare moments they pumped, for the packed fish dripped brine, which does not improve a cargo. But since there was no fishing, Harvey had time to look at the sea from another point of view.
The low-sided schooner was naturally on most intimate terms with her surroundings. They saw little of the horizon save when she topped a swell; and usually she was elbowing, fidgeting, and coasting her steadfast way through gray, gray-blue, or black hollows laced across and across with streaks of shivering foam; or rubbing herself caressingly along the flank of some bigger water-hill.
It was as if she said: “You wouldn’t hurt me, surely? I’m only the little We’re Here .”
Then she would slide away chuckling softly to herself till she was brought up by some fresh obstacle.
The dullest of folk cannot see this kind of thing hour after hour through long days without noticing it; and Harvey, being anything but dull,