“‘Indeed, and I’m not sure he knows my ways too well,’ says the Skipper. ‘It’s so proud he should be to sail in the Colleen Bawn, the fastest, ablest vessel out of Gloucester, if I do say it myself, that— But no more talk. To the divil with him. There’s the dory—jump in and go aboard.’
“‘But what’ll I do for a dory-mate?’ says Jerry.
“‘Oh, I’ll get you a dory-mate. When we put into Boston for bait there’ll be plenty to pick up on T wharf.’
“Well, just there I nudges the little lumper, and he sets his jaws and steps up: ‘Captain, could you give me a chance? I’d like to ship with you for a trip.’
“The Skipper looks down at him. ‘And who are you?’
“And right away he begins to tell his troubles to the Skipper, and the Skipper—you know the Skipper—listens like a father. But he near spoiled it all by windin’ up, ‘Oh, I’ve been workin’ around the dock lately, but I used to be quartermaster on a harbor steamer in Boston one time,’ to let the Skipper know he wouldn’t have a passenger on his hands.
“The Skipper looks him up and looks him down. ‘Quartermaster on a harbor steamer once, was you? Think of that, now. It’s the proud man you oughter be! And about as big as a pair of good woolen mitts! But’—and he looks over at Jerry sideways—‘you’ll have a mate that’s big enough. Jerry,’ and he begins to smile sly-like, ‘Jerry, here’s the dory-mate you’ve been screechin’ for.’
“‘What!’ howls Jerry, ‘him—him! Why, I could slip him into one of my red-jacks. That little shrimp! A shrimp? No—a minim!’
“It was scandalous, of course, to speak out like that to the little man to his face, but Jerry and Bartley were great friends, you see; and Jerry’d kept on, but the Skipper puts an end to it quick, and we went aboard.
“Well, we puts into Boston for the bait, gets it up to T wharf and puts out. Coming down the harbor it was Jerry and the little man’s watch on deck. Jerry put him to the wheel. ‘Bein’ quartermaster of a harbor steamer here once, of course you know the channel,’ says Jerry, and leaves him and goes for’ard. Well, we went along till we were pretty near the little light-house on the thin iron legs that sets up like it was on stilts. Well, you know how the channel is there, Peter, and this time it was blowin’ some—wind abeam. I mind the little man askin’ Jerry afore this if it warn’t pretty bad weather to be puttin’ to sea and Jerry sayin’ maybe it would be for harbor steamers. We were crowdin’ along at this time, Jerry for’ard by the windlass, me in the waist, and the little man to the wheel. We gets near to the little light-house—like a spider on long legs it was— Bug Light is the name of it, and a good name for it, too. We were crowdin’ through, and I was thinkin’ of askin’ Jerry if he hadn’t better take the wheel himself, and then I thought I wouldn’t. It warn’t my watch, and you don’t like to be hintin’ to a man that he don’t know his business, you know, not even to a man that was green as this one might be in handlin’ a fisherman. Well, we gets nearer and I noticed the little man beginnin’ to fidget like he was nervous or something. At last he hollers out to Jerry, ‘I say, matey, what’ll I do? I don’t know’s I c’n keep her away from the light, and there’s rocks on the other side. What’ll I do, matey?’