The salty spray increased to a gentle rain, buffeting her cheeks. The steady boom of the breakers was in her ears like the familiar voice of a friend. Judith tramped on resolutely.
The lights were two lanterns, sheltered from the wind, beside the old black dory. Judith came upon them and cried out in astonishment. For she had come upon something else—a boy, dressing fish as if his life depended on it!
“Jemmy Three!” she ejaculated shrilly.
The boy neither turned about nor stopped.
“Hullo! That you, Jude? Got a lantern? Take that knife there an’ go to work like chain lightnin’. I’ve filled two barrels—there isn’t any time to lose, now, I tell you! Steamer’s due at seven.”
“But—but—I don’t understand—” faltered Judith.
“Well, you needn’t, till you get plenty o’ time. Understandin’ don’t dress no fish.” Jemmy Three, like Jem One, had missed his rightful share of schooling. “What we got to do now is dress fish.”
Judith went to work obediently, but the wonder went on in her mind. What did it all mean? How had Jemmy Three found out about the mackerel? Why was he down here in the dead of night dressing and packing them?
By and by the boy saw fit to explain in little jerks over his shoulder. Judith pieced them together into a strange, beautiful story that made her throat throb.
“Saw you had a load here—saw ’twas mackerel—knew they’d got to be ’tended to—’tended to ’em,” Jemmy Three slung over his shoulder, as he worked.