CHAPTER VIII ALEC'S FIRST LESSON IN OYSTER-CULTURE
Morning found Alec refreshed in body, but not entirely relieved in mind. He had loved his father dearly, and the thought that his father's body lay out in the cold, bleak cemetery without even a headstone to mark his resting-place, troubled Alec sorely. The very least he could do in memory of his father, it seemed to Alec, was to erect a marker above the grave.
To do this, he had gotten together all the money he could, and given it to a Central City monument dealer with the understanding that the latter was to set up the stone Alec selected and Alec was to pay the balance due on the stone as soon as he found work and could earn the money. But like many another man, this one had taken advantage of youth. He had pocketed the money without carrying out his part of the bargain. That was bad enough. But Alec now felt no certainty that the stone would be erected after he had paid for it in full; and that was worse still. So it was a very much troubled and worried lad that tumbled out of Alec's bunk when Dick arrived to start breakfast.
It was fortunate for Alec that he possessed such a helpful disposition. He found a number of things to do for the cook. He stirred up the fire, got water for the coffee, punched holes in the condensed milk can, cut the bread, and made himself generally useful; and in work he found relief from his troubles. He could not keep his mind on his work and his troubles at the same time; and he had to keep it on his work.
And when breakfast was over and he had dried the dishes, there were so many things he wanted to ask the captain about. All that he had learned about oyster-culture was so interesting it made him want to learn more. And by this time he realized that there was much, much more to know.
"Captain Bagley," said Alec, when the Bertha B was fairly under way, "the pier watchman was telling me that the oystermen spread old shells over their oyster-beds for the young oysters to attach themselves to. How can oysters move about in the water? I should think their shells would keep them on the bottom, even though they are very small. Why, a grain of sand can't float, and see how much smaller that is than an oyster."
"Yes. It's smaller than a grown oyster, but many times as large as a brand-new oyster. And besides, oysters just born don't have any shells."
Alec looked sharply at the captain, but could not detect the faintest twinkle in his eye. "Honest?" he asked. "You're not stringing me?"
"Not a bit of it, son. Why, a new-born oyster is so small you can't even see it."
"Now I know you're teasing me."
"Indeed, I am not. You have to have a microscope to see an oyster that has just been born. They have to be very small, for a single oyster gives birth to millions of little ones. These don't have no shells at all. And then the tide sweeps 'em in and out, so I reckon they get scattered pretty much everywhere in the neighborhood of the oyster-beds."
"But how do they grow fast to old shells and other oysters if they have no shells themselves?"
"Oh! They get shells quick enough. And as soon as they do, they sink to the bottom and fasten themselves to the first clean rock or shell they come to. If they don't hit a rock or shell, they sink in the mud and die. Of course, there ain't no rocks on our mud bottom, and that's why we have to put shells on the beds. And we no sooner get the bed covered with shells than we have to scrub 'em, to get the mud off of 'em."
"Scrub them!" exclaimed Alec. "What do you mean?"
"Can't you understand English? I mean just what I say—scrub 'em, to get the dirt off."
Alec still looked incredulous. "How?" he demanded.
"Oh! We drag the dredges over the beds without any bags on. It scours 'em off pretty well. They are pretty clean before we get through."
"But is it really necessary? Did anybody ever see a tiny oyster make fast to an old shell?"
"I don't know, son. But I know this: We have to make sure our shells is clean. We wait till the oysters is about ready to tie up to something and then we scrub the shells."
"My gracious! If there are so many little oysters and you put down so many shells to catch them, I should think there would be more oysters than you would know what to do with."
"Does seem that way, don't it? Fact is, though, that mighty few of them little ones ever gits to be oysters."
"Why not?"
"I reckon it's largely on account of what doctors would call 'infant mortality.' All sorts of things eats 'em. Mussels, and clams, and barnacles, and old oysters, and turtles, and worms, and sea-squirts, and drills, all eat oysters at some time or other. Down east the starfish plays hob with the oyster-beds. We don't have many of them things here, and I'm glad of it. If we did, I don't know how we'd ever raise any oysters. Why, even as it is, we don't get more than one oyster out of every six we plant."
"How do you know?"
"Why, we know how many bushels we plant and how many we ketch when they're old enough to be dredged. We plant about 500 bushels to an acre and we'd like to plant a thousand if we could get 'em. They're about the size of your thumb nail and there's about 700 to 900 seed-oysters in a bushel. By the time we dredge 'em we won't get more'n a basket for every bushel we planted. How many's that? You ought to know. You counted oysters all day yesterday."
"A basket contains 68 casts," said Alec proudly, "and that's 136 oysters."
"Correct. And if you multiply that number by six, you'll have just about the number of seed-oysters in a bushel."
"If the loss is so great, I should think you would plant the full thousand bushels per acre instead of five hundred."
"We would if we could get 'em, son. But you know we get our seed-oysters out of the natural beds, and we can't dredge there except in May and June, between sunrise and sunset each day. We get all we can, of course. And then we buy some from the bushelmen."
"What are they?"
"Oh! Fellows that have small boats but no beds. They dredge what they can get and sell the seed to planters."
"They're something like the stake stickers."
"Most of 'em are stake stickers. They ketch seed-oysters in spring and stick stakes in fall."
"I should think they'd get enough money to have their own oyster-beds after a time."
"Some of 'em do, but there ain't much money in oysters unless you have a good equipment. Why, a first-class oyster-boat, with up-to-date engine and machinery, is worth fourteen or fifteen thousand dollars. And then there's your scows and floats and motor-boats, and a lot of other things. Why, a pair of dredges alone is worth $150. And then after you do get a bed and plant it, you've got to wait three years before your oysters is big enough to ketch. Why, a fellow's got to have nearly enough money to retire on before he can make a start in the oyster business."
Alec looked very sober. "I believe there isn't any use of a fellow like me trying to become an oyster-planter," he thought. "I couldn't earn and save fifteen thousand dollars—ever."
"Think you'd like to be an oysterman?" asked Captain Bagley, looking searchingly at Alec.
"I don't know," said Alec. "I've got to do something, and I think I like oystering as much as anything I ever saw. But I want to get to the top if I become one."
"Well, the best way to get to the top is to start at the bottom—and work. The oyster shippers are always on the watch for bright young fellows that know the business and ain't afraid of work. Many a fellow has worked himself up to a partnership in an oyster firm that started just where you are—at the bottom."
By this time the Bertha B was nearing the oyster grounds. Alec got into the captain's oilskins again and was in his place on deck when the captain gave the word to let go the dredges.
This time Alec needed no instructions. He took hold like an old-timer. He was working with Sailor Bishop again, and once more he set himself to try to learn his companion's trick of culling oysters fast. He grew more and more expert as the hours passed, and was soon able to keep pace with Joe and Dick, neither of whom was very quick; but to save him, Alec could not fill his baskets as fast as Bishop filled his. One reason for Bishop's speed, Alec found, lay in the sailor's huge hands. His fingers were the longest Alec had ever seen. The sailor often picked up three or four oysters at a time. And long practice had made him so expert that he could often detect a rattler without having to tap it with his hammer.
In a little while the novelty of the work wore off, but still Alec found plenty to interest him. His work in biology had given him a keen interest in all forms of life. The marine life about him was new, and Alec found continual delight in the contents of the dredges. Now a crab was brought up. Again some curious fish like a "toady," as ugly and venomous in appearance as Shakespeare's land toad, came flopping on the deck; but apparently it had no redeeming jewel in its head, for the sailors treated it with supreme contempt. Sometimes a king-crab was caught in the dredge—a curious, brown, horseshoe-shaped creature, with a long, straight tail of shell. And often there came tumbling aboard oyster drills, which looked like tiny conchs. There were quantities of sponge-like plant growths and red moss, like scarlet seaweed. And once there was real excitement as a huge turtle came flopping aboard. It must have been two feet in diameter, with clusters of barnacles on its shell as big as one's fist, and a terrible beak that could take a finger off at a single snap.
"Now we'll have some turtle soup," said Sailor Bishop, as he turned the creature on its back and shoved it out of the way.
Before Alec knew it, the day's work was done, and the Bertha B was on her homeward way. In an old dead tree that stood by itself in the salt meadow Alec saw what looked like a mass of driftwood; but the captain said it was an osprey's nest. Alec studied the distant nest through a telescope the captain lent him. It was a huge thing, three or four feet in diameter, made of old sticks. Later still Alec saw an osprey soaring not far astern of the Bertha B. Even as he watched it, the huge bird suddenly tilted downward and fell like a plummet into the water. A moment later it rose from the waves, with a glistening fish in its talons. On every hand there seemed to be new and interesting things to see.
The next day Alec had his first touch of seasickness. The wind was blowing half a gale when the Bertha B reached the oyster grounds, and the little boat jumped about in a way that at first alarmed Alec considerably. But when he saw that the sailors regarded the movement of the ship as a matter of course, he forgot his fear. Soon he forgot almost everything else; for his head began to ache, and a feeling of nausea came over him. He had never felt worse in his life. He thought he was going to die but did not seem to care.
"What's the matter?" asked Sailor Bishop. "Getting sick? You look pretty pale."
"I won't get sick if I can help it," said Alec to himself. "I'm going to fight this thing off."
His head seemed to be in a whirl, and he was afraid to try to stand up, lest he be pitched overboard. So he knelt on the deck, braced himself against the movement of the ship, and kept working. Whenever he could, he straightened up and drew in a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air. The air made him feel better. He tried to think about his work and not about himself. And after a time he felt noticeably better. Before the day was past the feeling of nausea had left him entirely, and never thereafter did he suffer from seasickness.
Being a Friday, it was pay-day, though Alec did not know it. When the Bertha B again lay at her pier at the end of the day, the crew did not hurry ashore as they had done every other day, though the captain left the boat the instant she was fast. Presently he returned with a roll of bills in his hand. He counted out each man's pay and handed the money around. Then the sailors left fast enough. When they were gone, the captain turned to Alec.
"How much do you think I ought to pay you?" he asked.
"I don't know," said Alec. "I didn't make any bargain with you. I don't know what I ought to get."
"I'm going to give you ten dollars," said the captain. "You worked only four days. Next week, if you put in a full week, I'll give you more. The deck-hands on this boat get $17.50 a week, but I gave them $20 this week because they did a mighty good week's work. You'll get just as much as you make yourself worth. Captain Rumford pays his men well. If you keep on as good as you've begun, you'll soon be getting as much as any of the other hands."
"Thank you," Alec replied. "I'll try. Oh! I'll do my best, for I need the money so badly. It's going to take me a good many weeks to earn all I need." And he went over to the stove and sat down on a chair, bowing his head in his hands.
"I wish that Hawley would come get this," muttered Captain Bagley to himself, as he counted out the money that was due the discharged sailor and laid it in his own bunk.
His own money he made into a little roll, including with the greenbacks a check that had come to him by mail. Then he put a little rubber band around the roll. After a second's hesitation he wrapped Hawley's money about his own, added another rubber band, and dropping the roll in his bunk, started to change from his working garb to his street clothes.
"The deuce!" he said suddenly. "I forgot to ask Captain Rumford about them dredges. I hope he ain't started for home yet."
Captain Bagley darted out of the cabin like a streak of lightning, and ran across the pier to the office. Zipp was there and he told Captain Bagley that Captain Rumford had just left. Captain Bagley could catch him before he got to his automobile. The lithe skipper flew down the stairs and raced up the shipping platform. He overtook the shipper, and a long conversation followed. On his way back to his boat, Captain Bagley was called into a ship-chandler's, and a full half hour elapsed before he got back. To his surprise there was not a soul aboard. Alec had disappeared. The money the captain had left in his bunk was also gone.