No, I dont think we need to, said Henry Burns. They see us. Look, there they are pointing. Old Martel knows what he is doing. Its just a case of bullying. Weve got the right of way over a boat running free, and he knows it.
Thats right, Henry, exclaimed Harvey. We might as well show him we know our rights. Keep her on her course, and dont give way an inch.
There was plenty of water on the pinkeys starboard hand, and the course was free there; but for the Viking to head off the wind meant failure to clear the buoy, and another tack, with loss of time. It was all a mere trifle, of course, but they knew the skipper of the pinkey was trying to crowd them; and they were bound to stand on their rights.
The pinkey came up perilously close; then, just barely in time, sheered off so that its boom almost came aboard the Viking . Henry Burns, unmoved, had held the Viking close into the wind, without giving way an inch even when it had looked as though the two boats must come together.
We might as well fight it out right now with old Martel, he said, quietly. Perhaps he will let us alone if he finds were not afraid of him.
Captain Jim Martels anger at being outmanœuvred was not lessened by the figure of Jack Harvey standing up astern and grinning at him derisively. He glared back angrily at the young yachtsmen.
But Harveys blood was up, too.
Why dont you learn to sail that old tub of yours? he called out, sneeringly.
Martels answer was to put his helm hard down, bring his boat about, and stand up on the track of the Viking .
Come on, well give you a tow out to sea again, cried Harvey.
Go easy, Jack, said Henry Burns. Hes the pepperiest skipper Ive seen in all Samoset Bay. Better let him alone. Hes angry enough already.
Yes, but hes to blame, said Harvey. When anybody hits me, I hit back. And forthwith he made gestures toward the other boat, as of urging it to hurry, by beckoning; and he coiled a bit of the free end of the main-sheet and threw it back over the stern, indicating that it was for the other craft to pick up, so as to be towed by the Viking .
The effect on Skipper Martel was, indeed, amusing. He sprang up from his seat, handed the tiller to one of his boys and rushed forward, where he stood, shaking a fist at the crew of the Viking and calling out angrily.
He made a comical figure, with his black, shaggy head wagging, and with his angry sputtering and his pretence of pursuit, whereas the Viking was leaving the pinkey rapidly astern. Henry Burns joined in the laughter, but he repeated his warning: Better let him alone, Jack.
Which warning, now that the skipper of the pinkey strode aft again, Jack Harvey finally heeded.
Funny how that fellow gets furious over nothing, he said. Well have to have some fun with him.
You like an exciting sort of fun, dont you, Jack? said Henry Burns, smiling. But it was plain he took it more seriously.
They fished for four days more with varying success, and with a Sunday intervening. They were getting toughened to the work; their hands growing calloused with the hard cod-lines; their knowledge of working their boat in rough water and heavy weather increasing daily; their muscles strengthened with the exercise; and their appetites so keen that young Joe might have envied them.
One day it rained, but they went out just the same, equipped for it in oilskins, rubber boots, and tarpaulins, and made a good haul.
Well, heres our last day for a week or so, said Henry Burns, as they stood out one morning for the fishing-grounds. Its back to Southport to-morrow. We mustnt get too rich all at once.
It was a day of uncertain flaws of wind, puffy and squally, after a day of heavy clouds. They were sailing under reefed mainsail, for at one moment the squalls would descend sharp and treacherous, though there would succeed intervals when there was hardly wind enough to fill the sails. They worked down to the fishing-grounds and tried several places, but with no great success. Some of the boats put back to harbour early in the afternoon, dissatisfied with the conditions, as it was evidently an off day for cod. Others, including the Viking , held on, hoping for better luck.
Then, of a sudden, the wind fell away completely two hours before sunset, and the sea was calm, save for the ground-swell, which heaved up into waves that did not break, but in which the Viking rolled and pitched and tugged at anchor.
Perhaps we will get a sunset breeze and be able to run back, said Harvey.
But evidently the fishermen, more weather-wise, knew better; for some of the lighter, open boats furled their sails snug, got out their sweeps, and prepared to row laboriously back the three long miles. Others of the big boats made ready to lie out for the night.
Well, weve got a good anchor and a new line, said Harvey. Theres nothing rotten about the Vikings gear. Well lie as snug out here as in the harbour.
They tripped the anchor just off bottom, got out the sweeps, and worked the Viking back a dozen rods or so from the shallow water about the reef. Then they dropped anchor again, with plenty of slack to the rope, to let the yacht ride easy with less strain on the anchorage. There were a half-dozen boats within hailing distance, similarly anchored, including Skipper Martel and his pinkey.