Capn Abe, Storekeeper | Page 7

an' spume, with the waves
picklin' 'em ev'ry few minutes. And five raw potaters was all they had
to eat in all that endurin' time!"
"Five potatoes?" Lawford Tapp cried. "For three men? And for fourteen
days? Good-night!"
Cap'n Abe stared at him for a moment, his eyes holding sparks of
indignation. "Young man," he said tartly, "you should hear Cap'n
Am'zon himself tell it. You wouldn't cast no doubts upon his
statement."
Cap'n Joab snorted and turned his back again. Young Tapp felt
somewhat abashed.
"Yes, sir!" proceeded Cap'n Abe who seldom lost the thread of one of
his stories, "they was lashed to that stump of a mast and they lived on
them potaters--scraping 'em fine with their sheath-knives, and
husbandin' 'em like they was jewels. One of 'em went mad."
"One o' the potaters?" gasped Amiel Perdue.
"Who went crazy--your brother, Cap'n Abe?" Milt asked cheerfully. He
had squandered a nickel in trying to head off the flow of the
storekeeper's story, and felt that he was entitled to something besides
the Brown Mule.
Cap'n Abe kept to his course apparently unruffled: "Cap'n Am'zon an'
the other feller lashed the poor chap--han's an' feet--and so kep' him
from goin' overboard. But mebbe 'twarn't a marciful act after all. When

they was rescued from the Posy Lass, her decks awash and her slowly
breakin' up, there warn't nothing could be done for the feller that had
lost his mind. He was put straightaway into a crazy-house when they
got to port.
"Now, them fellers saved from the Gilbert Gaunt didn't go through
nothin' like that, it stands to reason. Cap'n Am'zon----"
Lawford Tapp was gazing out of the door beside Cap'n Joab, whose
deeply tanned, whisker-fringed countenance wore an expression of
disgust.
"I declare! I'd love to see this wonderful brother of his. He must have
Baron Munchausen lashed to the post," the young man whispered.
"Never heard tell of that Munchausen feller," Cap'n Joab reflected.
"Reckon he didn't sail from any of the Cape ports. But you let Abe tell
it, Cap'n Am'zon Silt is the greatest navigator an' has the rip-snortin'est
adventoors of airy deep-bottom sailor that ever chawed salt hoss."
"Did you ever see him?" Lawford asked.
"See who?"
"Cap'n Amazon?"
"No. I didn't never see him. But I've heard Cap'n Abe talk about
him--standin' off an' on as ye might say--for twenty year and more."
"Odd you never met him, isn't it?"
"No. I never happened on Cap'n Am'zon when I was sea-farin'. And he
ain't never been to Cardhaven to my knowledge."
"Never been here?" murmured Lawford Tapp more than a little
surprised. "Wasn't he born and brought up here?"
"No. Neither was Cap'n Abe. The Silts flourish, as ye might say--or,
useter 'fore the fam'ly sort o' petered out--down New Bedford way.

Cap'n Abe come here twenty-odd year back and opened this store. He's
as salt as though he'd been a haddocker since he was weaned. But he's
always stuck mighty close inshore. Nobody ever seen him in a
boat--'ceptin' out in a dory fishin' for tomcod in the bay, and on a
mighty ca'm day at that."
"How does it come that he is called captain, then?" Lawford asked,
impressed by Cap'n Beecher's scorn of the storekeeper.
The captain reflected, his jaws working spasmodically. "It's easy 'nough
to pick up skipper's title longshore. 'Most ev'ry man owns some kind of
a boat; and o' course a man's cap'n of his own craft--or 'doughter be.
But I reckon Abe Silt aimed his title honest 'nough."
"How?" urged Lawford.
"When Abe fust come here to Cardhaven there was still two-three
wrecking comp'nies left on the Cape. Why, 'tain't been ten years since
the Paulmouth Comp'ny wrecked the Mary Benson that went onto
Sanders Reef all standin'. They made a good speck out o' the job, too.
"Wal, Abe bought into one o' the comp'nies--was the heaviest
stockholder, in fac', so nat'rally was cap'n. He never headed no
crew--not as I ever heard on. But the title kinder stuck; and I don't
dispute Abe likes it."
"But about his brother--this Captain Amazon?" The line of Cap'n Joab
Beecher's jaw, clean shaven above his whisker, looked very grim
indeed, and he wagged his head slowly. "I don't know what to make of
all this talk o' Cap'n Abe's," was his enigmatical reply.
Lawford turned to gaze curiously at the storekeeper. He certainly
looked to be of a salt flavor, did Cap'n Abe Silt, though so many of his
years had been spent behind the counter of this gloomy and cluttered
shop. He was not a large man, nor commanding to look upon. His eyes
were too mild for that--save when, perhaps, he grew excited in relating
one of his interminable stories about Cap'n Amazon.

Cap'n Amazon Silt, it