He collected the broken dishes and carried them into the kitchen, and when Ruth rolled her sleeves up to wash the breakfast things, he smiled and held out his hand. “Give me the dish-rag, Miss Nickerson, and I will wash up. You can dry the things.” When she demurred, he added, “Oh, I’m an old hand at this work. I used to do it for mother many a time.” And he took the dish-cloth gently away from her, while she mentally remarked on his courtesy with something of regret. “This delightful boy—a fisherman! Wasting his fragrance on the desert air ... it’s too bad.” Fishing, as an occupation did not stand very high in Ruth’s estimation. She was of a romantic turn of mind and longed to be a modern Una, but the thought of choosing her knight from among sea-roving fish-killers did not appeal to her imagination. She rather fancied this stalwart, dark-eyed, confident, cultured youth, but his profession...? It was the fly in the ointment!
The others had vanished for the time being, and together in the kitchen, Ruth and Donald washed and dried, chatting, teasing and laughing until Judson stuck his head around the door. “Oh, there you are,” he cried. “Washin’ dishes? Well, well! I cal’late, Ruthie, you’ll have to let your galley-help come along with me. We have a lot to do an’ darn small time to do it in. Come on, Don!” Donald regretfully relinquished the dish-cloth and wiped his hands, while Ruth voiced her indignation. “That’s you, Judson Nickerson!” she scolded jocularly. “Always spoiling a pleasant little party by dragging my visitor off. You may boss him, but, thank goodness, you can’t boss me!”
Her brother looked humorously at her—pulling pensively at his mustache. “No, by Jupiter, Ruthie-girl,” he said, edging towards the door as he spoke, “I could boss a whole shipload of roughnecks, but I wouldn’t attempt to boss a little spitfire like you.”
As he passed through the door after Judson, McKenzie whispered, “This is the first time I have really enjoyed dish-washing. I’ll help you to-night, if I may.” And with the sparkling glance from her laughing eyes envisioned in his memory, he strode down to the wharf with a heart as light and care-free as though trouble never existed.
Down at the wharf they tallied the fish out, and kept the score secret. Then supplies were hustled aboard, and Donald and the skipper worked until afternoon sending up the West Wind’s fore-topmast and bending the balloon jib. They dined on the vessel, and when tea-time came, she was ready for the long summer trip with salt, fresh victuals, and water aboard. “We’ll get under way at six in the morning,” said the skipper finally, and he and Don went up to the house.
Donald had been worrying considerably about his mother, and he confided his troubles to the skipper. “I want to bring her out here, captain,” he said, “but I don’t know if I can afford to keep her on my wages. I am getting thirty dollars a month as spare hand on the West Wind, and I own that is good money for a chap my age, but could I keep mother on that out here?”
The other thought for a moment. “I’m afraid not, Don,” he said. “You’d need to earn at least forty-five dollars monthly to keep a home an’ your mother anyways comfortable. However, son, you jest plug along this summer an’ get on to the fishin’ so’s you kin go in a dory—then you’ll earn more money. This fall, I’m goin’ to go master of a big schooner running fish an’ lumber to th’ West Indies, an’ I hope to take you along as second mate. You’ll get fifty a month then, an’ next spring you’ll go in the dory as a fisherman, and ef we strike it right there’s no reason why you shouldn’t make six to eight hundred dollars for the season’s work. Fishin’ summers an’ makin’ West Indie voyages in the winter ought to keep you pretty comfortable for a while. But I hope in a year or two to see you skipper of your own vessel. With your brains an’ ability, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t.”
Donald smiled. “That’s what I hope, Skipper,” he said, “but I want to write mother to-night and give her something definite. I am thinking of shipping over to Glasgow and bringing her out when we get back. Can I do it?” “No reason why you can’t,” replied the other. “It’ll only take you a month to make the trip. S’pose you leave in October, you can be back in time to sail with me in December. You should have a couple of hundred dollars to draw come September. You’ll be in good trim then. That’ll more than pay her passage out an’ yours too.” The lad laughed happily. “That’s right, Captain!” he exclaimed, “I’m just longing to bring her out here. I love this country, and the people, and I’ve never regretted going fishing. The past two months have been a revelation to me, and I’ve enjoyed every bit of it. The work is hard when it comes, but there are lots of slack spells to make up for the hard drags; the living is first class, and there is an element of hazard and gamble in this fishing game which seems to have got me in a spell—”
Judson slapped him affectionately on the shoulder. “You’ve said it there, Don! That’s it! The gamble of it all; the hard work for hard dollars, and the harder you work—the more you make. We have good times, good quarters and good grub, and, better’n all, you sail in able craft an’ with able men. That’s why I chucked up the other game. I was fed up mucking about in lime-juicers an’ tryin’ to get work done with the no-sailors an’ sojers that go in them nowadays. I rushed them, cursed them, and even banged them at times, but I didn’t do that for the fun of it. I did it—played the bucko—because I had to, that’s why! Your lazy lime-juice shell-backs give Yankee and Bluenose ships a hard name. Why? Because in aour ships a man had to be what he signed for. If he was an A.B., he had to do A.B.’s work. If he couldn’t, God help him! We wouldn’t put up with sojerin’ or slack lip in aour ships, an’ that’s why we had the smartest wooden wind-jammers in the world. Where did you find your best British seamen? In American and Canadian ships—where they were appreciated and well-fed. No Yankee or Bluenose officer ever man-handled a good seaman. It was the bums, the hoodlums, an’ the Paddy Westers who tried to run the ship, that we booted an’ belaying-pinned, for that was the only language they understood and respected. I was long enough in British ships to have been soured on them. I’ve seen sails blown away an’ gear destroyed simply because the crew shirked their duty and the officers—good enough men—couldn’t make them do it for fear of bein’ hailed afore a British Consul on the charge of misdemeanors against the Merchant Shipping Act.” He paused and spat disgustedly. Continuing, he said, “Naow, take yourself! You maybe thought I was a mite severe with you on th’ Kelvinhaugh? I never ill-used you, though I made you hustle. Why? Because I saw you had the makings of a sailor in you an’ I wanted to instill smartness in you. You’ll never forget my lessons, Don, and I’ll guarantee when you get a command of your own, you’ll want your crew to skip araound lively an’ work, and ef they don’t, you’ll know haow to handle ’em!”
They were on the verandah of the Nickerson home by now, and were greeted by Helena and Ruth. “Don’t you believe all Juddy tells you, Mr. McKenzie,” said Ruth, smiling. “He’d make one believe he was a terrible man at sea. I don’t believe he would hurt a fly!” Donald laughed heartily. His memory flashed back to Kelvinhaugh days and he recalled some incidents in “brother Juddy’s” career which rather belied his sister’s opinion. The skipper himself grinned foolishly, and glanced from Donald to Helena Stuart. “How did he treat you on that Scotch ship, Mr. McKenzie?” enquired Ruth. “Was he kind to you?”