Всего за 5.99 руб. Купить полную версию
They come in three-pound, five-pound, and ten-pound packages, chanted the pair, also in glass jars. A rubber band is placed around the top, the air is forced out by a vacuum machine, and the cover is clamped on. To remove the cover, you puncture the lid!
Whered you get that? laughed Nelson.
The fellow that showed us around the fish shop told it to us. Its the way they put up their codfish. Isnt it great? Want us to say it again?
Yes, and say it slow.
For the next ten minutes The Dirge of the Salt Codfish had things its own way, Nelson and Bob insisting on learning it by heart. When they could all four say it in unison, standing in a row like a quartet of idiots, they were satisfied. Then the berths were made up and, after Dan had satisfied himself which was the strongest one and therefore best suited to Tom, they undressed and put out the lights. Of course they didnt go to sleep very soon; things were still too novel for that. They talked and laughed, quieted down and woke up again, recited The Dirge of the Salt Codfish, and well, finally went to sleep. Some time later no one ever knew just when, since the clock refused to ring out any information Bob and Dan were awakened by the sound of some one blundering around the stateroom.
Who whos that? asked Dan in startled tones, sitting up in his berth with a jerk.
Its me, you idiot! growled a voice.
Whos me? questioned Dan sharply.
Nelson. We forgot to set the riding light, and Ive bumped into everything here. Id like to know where that doors got to!
Well, keep off of me, groaned Bob. The doors behind you, of course. Cant you find a match?
No, I cant. If I could Id light it, you silly fool!
There are some in the engine room, on top of the ice box, laughed Dan.
Then they heard the door swing back and heard Nelsons bare feet go scraping over the cold oilcloth and his teeth chattering. Presumably the riding light was fixed as the law demands, but neither Dan nor Bob could have sworn to it. They turned over in their berths, and by the time Nelson was picking his way along the side of the launch by the light of the flickering lantern they were sound asleep again.
CHAPTER V WHEREIN TOM BUYS LOBSTERS AND DAN DISAPPROVES
Perhaps it was because Tom had slept undisturbedly through Nelsons prowling that he was the first to awake the next morning. When he opened his eyes the early sunlight was streaming through the ports, and from the other side of the planking came the gentle swish of the lapping waves. Tom stuck one foot outside the covers tentatively, then drew it quickly back again; the air outside, since most of the ports had been left open all night, was decidedly chill. But the sunlight and the breeze and the lapping water called loudly, and pretty soon Tom was out on the floor, scurrying around for his clothes. Now and then the others stirred uneasily, but none awoke. Washed, and dressed in the white duck trousers and jumpers with which the four had provided themselves, Tom glanced at the clock, pushed back the hatch, and opened the doors to the cockpit. It was only a little after half-past six, and the cove and harbor were deserted. From the houses on the Neck thin streamers of blue smoke were twisting upward from the kitchen chimneys, and from the Harborside House, where they had eaten dinner the night before, came the cheerful sound of rattling tins and the thud of cleaver on block.
That reminded Tom that, as usual, he was hungry. But there was no use in thinking about breakfast yet. He sat down on the cockpit seat which proved on close acquaintance to be soaking wet with the dew and looked about him. The sound of oars creaking in rowlocks drew his attention, and he looked across the quiet cove. From around the point came a man in a pea-green dory, rowing with the short, jerky strokes of the fisherman. Tom watched him. Presently he stopped rowing, dropped his oars, and reached over the side of the dory. When he straightened up he had a line in his hand, and now he got on his feet and began pulling it in. Tom wondered what was on the other end, and when the end appeared was more puzzled than ever. For what the man in the dory hauled into the boat looked for all the world like a hencoop, and Tom didnt see why the man kept his hens under water, although he remembered having read somewhere of Mother Careys Chickens, which, in some way beyond his understanding, were connected with salt water.
The man drew something out of the hencoop and threw it back into the cove. It flashed in the sunlight as it fell, and Tom wondered if it was an egg. Something else was taken out and thrown into the dory. Then, presently, the hencoop was lifted over the side again and sank out of sight. The man took up his oars and started toward the Vagabond, but he hadnt gone far when he again ceased rowing and prepared to produce another hen-coop from the vasty deep. That was too much for Tom. He seized the oars, drew the tender alongside, and tumbled in. Then he headed for the dory. When he drew near the second hencoop was coming into sight. Tom leaned on his oars and opened conversation.
Good morning, he said. The man in the dory looked up and nodded.
Mornin, he answered.
Then the hencoop was pulled over the side of the dory and rested across it, and Tom saw that instead of chickens it contained fish. It was fashioned of laths, was rounding on top, and at one end a funnel of netting took the place of the laths.
What do you call that? asked Tom.
This? Thats a lobster pot. Never see one before?
Tom shook his head.
No, I dont think so. I thought it was a hencoop.
The lobsterman chuckled as he undid the door of the trap and thrust in his arm. Out came a handful of small fish, which were thrown into a pail in the dory. Then one or two larger fish were tossed overboard, and last of all a fine big greenish-black lobster was produced. Tom paddled nearer and saw that a box in the dory was already half full of lobsters which were shuffling their claws about and blinking their protruding eyes. Another pail held fish for bait, and after the pot was cleared out new bait was placed in it and it was once more let down at the end of a rope. Tom now saw that the surface end of the rope was attached to a white wooden float.
Not much there, was there? said the fisherman as he took up his oars. You come over to the next one and Ill show you some lobsters.
So Tom rowed after him a hundred yards or so and awaited with interest the appearance of the next pot. The prediction proved true, for when the pot came to the surface it looked to be swarming with lobsters. To Toms surprise, the first two or three that were taken out were tossed back into the water.
Arent those any good? he questioned.
Best eatin there is, was the reply, but theyre shorts.
What are shorts, please?
Young uns under ten inches long. Law dont allow us to keep em.
There were a good many shorts in the trap, but there were also four good-sized lobsters, and the lobsterman seemed well pleased.
Do you sell them? asked Tom. The man glanced across at him shrewdly.
Shorts, do you mean?
Oh, no; the others.
Yes; want to buy some?
If you could let me have a couple, Id like it.
The man held out two medium-sized ones.
Fifty cents, he said.
All right. Tom dived into his pocket, brought up the money and pulled up to the dory, where the exchange was made.