The Cruise of the Dry Dock | Page 7

noticeable.
Caradoc was just reaching up to climb into Malone, when at that

moment something happened that drew and held everybody's attention.
The whole face of the sea around the dock broke into a sort of
sputtering. The ocean seemed to boil. To his astonishment, Madden
saw the commotion was caused by millions of small fishes leaping and
running along the surface.
Cries came from all over the dock at once: "Pilchards! Pilchards are
shoaling! Pilchards are shoaling!"
The few gulls in the sky now seemed to multiply and settled in a
fluttering cloud to strike such easily captured food. Among the press of
little fish leaped cod, hake, dog fish, all feasting on the annual
migration of the pilchards. The crew on the dock scrambled up and
over the sides, flung down boxes, buckets, anything and scooped the
fish from the sea.
The diversion saved the Englishman from any bellicose intention of the
mate, who hurried off to take a hand in the sport. Madden sat on his
platform watching the fun, for it was a remarkable sight. Caradoc
swung around on the ladder facing Leonard.
"There, Madden," he cried, "is a sight characteristic of no other sea.
Every season Cornish fisheries capture millions of these fish. They
pickle 'em, can 'em. They even sell them to you Yankees for sardines.
You are fortunate to have seen this phenomenon."
Leonard studied the novel sight. Hundreds of fishing smacks converged
on the area where the pilchards were breaking, their red sails glowing
warmly against the green of the land and the blue of the sea. Gulls
whirled about the tall dock, filling the air with thin creakings. Madden
admired the sudden picturesque activity. Some of the smacks were so
close now that he could see their long trawls stringing out behind, and
little figures running about their decks, winding in nets, bringing in a
flood of silver fishes.
The metallic noise of the gulls grew so loud as to blanket all else. In the
midst of this fluttering and shrieking, Leonard heard the shouting of

human voices. He paid little attention. Then some of the men on top of
the dock's side began yelling. At that moment, Caradoc shouted down
Madden's name. Madden looked up. On the instant the swinging
platform under him tipped violently.
Next moment, Madden saw right beneath him a smack. The vessel was
floating by, and the peak of its boom scraped the high iron wall of the
dock. This boom had struck his platform.
Madden clutched impotently at the blank iron wall, then flung an arm
for one of the supporting ropes and missed.
"Jump to me!" yelled Smith. The Englishman was still on the rope
ladder, but had climbed down rapidly when he saw his mate in distress.
The boom was tilting the platform straight up and down. The deck of
the smack below promised to mash the American into a pulp. The
fishermen were shouting. Leonard made a falling leap toward Caradoc's
extended hand. He caught it in both his own. The Englishman's other
hand gripped the rope rung. Unfortunately Madden's body flung out
with a twisting motion, and he could feel Smith's arm grow tense in an
effort to keep from being wrenched.
Madden was scrambling with his legs for a foothold on the ladder when
the boom dragged past the platform and the whole thing swung back on
the distressed boys. A flying end caught Madden in the side. The blow
sickened him. He clung desperately to Caradoc's hand, his grip
weakening, his senses swimming with the feeling of an awful void
beneath him. The strength in his fingers gave way, and he felt a chill
sensation before the coming downward plunge. But even in his twisted,
straining position, the Englishman's long fingers did not loose
Madden's wrist. A moment later, Leonard had lost consciousness
completely, swung in midair, limp as a bag.
The American had a dim impression of being drawn to the top of the
side wall, and the crew clustering about him. Someone splashed water
in his face and the world cleared up before his eyes. The young fellow
called Greer was whisking on the water, but when Madden opened his
eyes, he set the bucket down and returned silently to his work.

"There, ye're bether now," grinned Hogan stooping over the wounded
man. "That platform caught yez a little love lick in the slats--break any
of 'em?"
Leonard reached across and felt his side. "How came the smack there?"
he inquired weakly. "Why didn't I see it?"
"Ye was lookin' astern, an' th' vissil barely turned the bow of th' dock
an' her boom kissed us all th' way down. I yilled at ye, so did
Dashalong an' th' silent man. Thin I got so interested in l'arnin' he could