II

to know well later, and with a short-handled fork began to throw fish into the pen on deck. “Two hundred and thirty-one,” he shouted.

“Give him the hook,” said Dan, and Harvey ran it into Manuel’s hands. He slipped it through a loop of rope at the dory’s bow, caught Dan’s tackle, hooked it to the stern-becket, and clambered into the schooner.

“Pull!” shouted Dan, and Harvey pulled, astonished to find how easily the dory rose.

“Hold on, she don’t nest in the crosstrees!” Dan laughed; and Harvey held on, for the boat lay in the air above his head.

“Lower away,” Dan shouted, and as Harvey lowered, Dan swayed the light boat with one hand till it landed softly just behind the mainmast. “They don’t weigh nothin’ empty. Thet was right smart fer a passenger. There’s more trick to it in a seaway.”

“Ah ha!” said Manuel, holding out a brown hand. “You are some pretty well now? This time last night the fish they fish for you. Now you fish for fish. Eh, wha‑at?”

“I’m⁠—I’m ever so grateful,” Harvey stammered, and his unfortunate hand stole to his pocket once more, but he remembered that he had no money to offer. When he knew Manuel better the mere thought of the mistake he might have made would cover him with hot, uneasy blushes in his bunk.

“There is no to be thankful for to me!” said Manuel. “How shall I leave you dreeft, dreeft all around the Banks? Now you are a fisherman⁠—eh, wha‑at? Ouh! Auh!” He bent backward and forward stiffly from the hips to get the kinks out of himself.

“I have not cleaned boat today. Too busy. They struck on queek. Danny, my son, clean for me.”