That was the story from all of them when they came in. And they were sights coming in, too. Ice? You had to look half-way to the mast-head to see anything but ice. Anchors, bows, dories in the waist, cable on deck—all was solid as could be—all on deck from rail to rail and clear aft to the wheel—ice, ice, ice.
The crew of the Delia Corrigan were putting her stores aboard. Her skipper, Patsie Oddie, was standing on the dock and looking her over. He hummed a song as he looked. This was just after he had painted her black. She had come to him black, but in a run of bad luck he had painted her blue; and having worked off the bad luck, he had painted her black again. Now she looked beautiful—black and beautiful—and able! Let no man cast eye on the Delia and not praise her ableness while Patsie Oddie was by.
All at once he called out to one of his men: “Martin, let’s take a walk up the street.” And Martin went gladly enough.
First they had a drink, and then Patsie stepped into the shop of what all fishermen rated the best tailor in Gloucester. “Measure me for a suit of sails,” was his word of greeting there. “Give me a Crump Taylor vest, a Wesley Marrs jacket, and a Tom O’Donnell pair of pants, and all of the best. And mind the mains’l.”
“The overcoat, Captain?”
“The overcoat? What else? Isn’t she the biggest sail of all? Mind when you come to that—put plenty of duck to it, the best and finest of duck. And good stout duck, double-ought, like what gen’rally goes into a fores’l. And the best and finest of selvin’ and trimmin’s along the leach and the luff and in the belly of it. And let it hang low—the latest fashion, same’s you made Crump Taylor. Crump steps ashore a while ago with one down to the rail. He tells me he has to sway it up every now and then to keep it off the deck. Five weeks to-day I’ll want it. Mind now, the best.”
“And which way do you go now, Captain?” said the tailor when he had taken the big skipper’s measure.
“To the east’ard,” said Patsie.
“But not to-day?” said the tailor. “Too blowy, ain’t it?”
“Maybe,” said Patsie, “you’d like to go skipper o’ the Delia Corrigan? S’pose now you go on with that suit, and let me go to the east’ard. And you tell me what’ll be and I’ll pay you now. How much?”