“I think Mr. Moodey and Helena Stuart are down here also,” she went on. Another time, this announcement of Moodey’s presence in Eastville would have given him a sinking feeling, but now he could afford to be generous. He didn’t mind poor Moodey. Jolly good of him to stick around and keep Ruth company. Fine chap, Moodey! The mother continued, “I heard something about them having a picnic down to Salvage Island to-day. The young people of the church have chartered the packet steamer for the trip. They’re to start about eleven.”
“A picnic?” ejaculated Donald. “Oho! I’d like to get in on that. Wonder if Jud’ll be going?” He had scarcely finished speaking before Captain Nickerson appeared in the kitchen door. After greeting Mrs. McKenzie he said to Donald, “The church folk are having a picnic cruise to Salvage Island—clam bake and all that sort of thing—and I reckon I’ll go. Will you come along? The boys’ll get the fish out and the stores aboard, and we’ll pull out day after to-morrow. You’ll be with us? Right! Meet me at our house. The packet’ll pull out at eleven.”
He had departed but a few minutes when Caleb Heneker walked up. He was evidently in a fix about something by the manner in which he hustled up to the house. “Is yer son araound, Mrs. McKenzie?” he enquired. “Want to see him particular. H’ard he got in this mornin’.” And when Donald appeared the old man got to business right away.
“I’ve got the schooner Amy Anderson loaded with dry fish for San Juan, Porty Reek, and th’ skipper I had for her has gone raound to Annapolis to take a three-master. Naow, I’m stuck. I can’t git a man I kin trust to take my vessel daown, and I’ve come to see ef you’d go in her. I’ve got to git her away right naow—she’s three weeks late already—and I got a cable this mornin’ sayin’ ef th’ cargo don’t leave within’ twenty-four hours they’ll refuse th’ shipment. Kin you go?”
Donald was rather taken back. “How about my fishing?” he enquired. “I couldn’t leave Captain Nickerson short a man, and, also, I doubt if it would pay me to leave the Windrush to go West India freighting.”
Heneker waved his handkerchief to cool himself. “That’s all right,” he answered quickly, “I saw Judson Nickerson just naow and he says he’s agreeable for you to go. It’s easier to git fishermen than skippers and in this case I’m willin’ to pay you as much as what you’d make afishin’. That’s square, ain’t it?”
McKenzie nodded. He was in a quandary and couldn’t make up his mind right away. They might make a big stock fishing and he knew that Caleb couldn’t pay on the basis of a high-line trip for a West Indian run. Then after he came back he might have to kick around idle. He wanted to think the matter over, but Caleb insisted on an answer one way or the other. Mrs. McKenzie had been saying nothing, and to her the wily Heneker turned, “Best for him to take my offer, ma’am,” he observed. “She’s a fine big hundred an’ twenty-five-ton schooner—a noo vessel—and it’s better to be a captain than a fisherman. Besides, I’m agoin’ to give him a vessel to skipper afishin’ next season.” The old pride was working in Janet’s mind and she thought of the “captain” part of it. Donald was, in her opinion, more suited for master than fisherman, and besides, hadn’t Mr. Heneker offered to make his money as much as if he were fishing?
“I think, Don, Mr. Heneker is right,” she said, “Captain Nickerson is willing for you to go and he can easily get another man to fill your place.”
Donald rose to his feet. “I’ll go, Mr. Heneker,” he said quickly. “I’ll get my gear aboard this morning—you’ll loan me a sextant—and I’ll get out with the early tide after midnight——”
“Can’t ye go out this afternoon?” queried the vessel owner.