“Whee-ew!” whistled Code. “When he gets through he won’t have much money left, I guess.”
“No, I guess he won’t,” agreed the judge, “and it serves him right. He’ll probably have to sell his schooner and start life over again somewhere else. I hope he starts honestly this time. Then you won’t take any action against him, Code?”
“Me? Oh, no!” said Schofield. “I’ve nothing 297 against him now. Let him go. But I’ll tell you one thing, squire––he had better be smuggled away to-night quietly, because, if the crowd gets hold of him, it might not be good for his health.”
The squire agreed and Code went back to his work. Late that afternoon Pete Ellinwood swung the last basket of the catch to the scales and Code completed his tally.
“Sixteen hundred and seventy quintal,” he announced, “and forty-three pounds. At a hundred pounds a quintal that makes 167,078 pounds, and at three cents a pound totals to $5,012.34. Not bad for a two months’ cruise, but my soul and body, Bill Boughton, how the fish did run!”
“It’s a good catch, Code, and fine fish,” answered Boughton, who had been writing. “How will you have the money––in a lump or individual checks?”
“Separate checks.” Boughton went back to his glass-surrounded desk to write them.
Code, being the sole owner of the Charming Lass, took two thousand dollars as his share, and the rest was divided almost equally among the other nine men, a trifle extra going to Pete Ellinwood for his services as mate.
“It was a toppin’ haul,” declared Pete jovially, slapping his well-filled pocket after a visit to the bank, “an’ the rest of them poor devils won’t get over two and a half a pound––some of ’em only 298 two, when there’s lots of fish. Half a cent a pound is a pretty good bonus!”
Code had dinner with his mother that night, and appeared for it carefully dressed. What was his surprise to see his mother in her one silk dress.