The Voyage of the Hoppergrass | Page 3

river? It is about the roundest thing, and the slipperyest thing, and the hardest thing to get hold of, that you could imagine. It rolls over and over, and when you get it out--plop! it tumbles back into the water and sinks out of sight. Then it comes up again-- bobbing--at some other place. Clarence and Ed were in an argument as to which of them had dropped the melon, while Jimmy stood up in the bow and shouted directions to me.
"Gaff it! gaff it! Why don't you gaff it?"
"How can I gaff it? What can I gaff it with,--you!"
"Never mind him," said the Captain. "Now, look,--I'll lay the boat right across its bows. ... Now, wait. ... Now! Can't you get it now?"
I did get it that time, and we took it back to the "Hoppergrass."
"You ought to have gaffed it, you know," remarked Jimmy.
Captain Bannister climbed on board.
"Come on, boys," he said, "we want to get under way while this breeze holds. It don't amount to much now. Sam, you take Clarence ashore, and get back as quick as you can. Jimmy, you can help me on the sail, an' Ed--you stow all these things below. I've got to have standin' room."
When I got back from shore Ed had put the clothes, and most of the food into the cabin, and the sail was going up.
"Now, the anchor," the Captain sang out; "all of yer better take hold ... one of yer coil up that rope ... now! all together! ... now! ... now!"
And with the usual and very necessary grunts and groans from the Captain the anchor slowly came out of the water. We were already moving down river.
"Swash it round, and get that mud off,--I don't want any of it on the deck. ... That's right. Now, shove these jugs under the seats, ... that's better. What's that striking?"
He was at the wheel, listening to the North Church clock.
"Four, five, six. Fust rate, fust rate,--I like to get away on time."
All the clouds had disappeared, and it was a fine, clear morning. We were sailing almost into the sun. Perhaps you think that I have forgotten to tell you where we were going, but one of the best things about the beginning of that voyage was that we didn't know exactly where we WERE going. All we had to do was to keep on down the river, turn into Sandy Island River, and pretty soon we would come out in Broad Bay. And in Broad Bay there were any number of islands,--some people said three hundred and sixty-five, one for every day of the year. Some of these islands had people living on them, but a great many of them were uninhabited. We could sail about for a week, call at half a dozen different islands every day, and still have a lot of them left over.
"Can we get to Duck Island tonight?" asked Ed Mason.
"Not 'fore tomorrer noon. We'll put in at Little Duck, tonight."
We were slipping along now beside a big, three-masted schooner--a coal schooner--which was anchored in mid-stream. The crew must have been below at breakfast, for the decks were deserted except for one man. He wore a blue shirt, and he leaned over the rail, smoking a day pipe. As we passed he spelled out the name on the stern of our boat. He did this in such a loud voice that it was clear he wished us to hear him.
"Haitch--o--double p--e--r--HOPPER--g-r-a--double s-GRASS. HOPPER- -GRASS!"
And then he scornfully spat into the river.
Captain Bannister's face turned a darker red, and he glanced over his shoulder at the man. Then he bent forward again, peered ahead and under the sail as if sighting our course with great care, and turned the wheel a little.
"Some folks don't have nothin' to do but mind other folks's business for 'em," he remarked, looking aloft as if speaking to the mast head.
There was silence for a moment. We felt that the man in the blue shirt had somehow insulted all of us.
"Not that I care what a Pennsylvania Dutchman that aint never been anywhere 'cept between here an' Philadelphy a-shovellin' coal says, anyhow," he added.
Then he was silent again.
'"Taint as though I give her the name, myself," he observed, at last. "Seein' I just got her a week ago last Saturday. I ASKED Casper Hoyt what under the canopy possessed him to give her a name like that. Said his father named her. Well, I thought his father must be plumb foolish, or something, but I didn't like to say so to HIM. Seems too bad to waste them gilt letters, or I'd a-had another name on her 'fore this. I wanted to use as many of them letters as I could, an' I thought of callin' her