“Well, ’tis a fine wash day, too. Come, Wesley––come, Maurice, we’ll have to be getting on.”
They left Mr. Edkins standing there. A little farther on they overtook the manager of the insurance company, which had policies on most of the fishing vessels. He was just about to enter his office when O’Donnell spied him. “Hullo, there’s the man I want to see––” and hailed, “Just heave to a minute, Mr. Brooks, if you please. Now look here, you know we’ve took a few pigs of iron out our vessels, and you know it looks like a bit of weather outside. Now, what I want to know is if I capsize the Colleen Bawn to-day––if I don’t come home with her––does my wife get the insurance? That’s what I want to know––does my wife get the insurance?”
Mr. Brooks looked at O’Donnell, rubbed his chin and scratched his head, then looked at O’Donnell again. “Why, I suppose it all comes under the usual risk of fishing vessels. I suppose so––but––h-m––it will be pretty risky, won’t it? But let me see––wait a moment now––there’s the President inside, and Mr. Emerson, too––he’s a director.”
He went inside, and we could see that they were talking it over. Pretty soon they all came out with the President of the company in front. “Good-morning, Captain O’Donnell––Captain Marrs, good-morning. How do you do, Maurice? 239 Captain O’Donnell, take it from me as official, your insurance on the Colleen Bawn is safe. For the honor and glory of old Gloucester go ahead and sink her.”
“And the Lucy Foster?” asked Wesley.
“And the Lucy Foster, Captain Marrs.”
“Of course the Johnnie Duncan, speaking for the owners?” asked Maurice.
“For every vessel that we insure that leaves the harbor to race to-day.”
“Hurroo!” said O’Donnell. “Don’t tell me, Wesley, I’m no––what’s it?––dip-lo-mat. Yes, dip-lo-mat, by the Lord!”
But it certainly was a desperate morning for a race. The streets seemed to be full of men ready to go out. There were to be only nine vessels in the race, but another half dozen vessels were going over to see it, and that meant more than three or four hundred able fishermen going out. The men that were going to stay ashore would go up to those that were going out and say, “Well, good-by, old man. If you don’t come back, why, you know your grave’ll be kept green.” And the men going out would grin and say, “That’s all right, boy, but if she goes, she’ll go with every rag on her,” in a half-joking way, too, but it was the belief that morning that there might be a whole lot of truth in that kind of joking.