V
FROM OUT OF CROW’S NEST
“What’ll I do with this?” asked Johnnie, in the middle of the cleaning up, holding up a pan of sweepings.
“Oh, that”––Clancy naturally took charge––“heave it overboard. Ebb tide’ll carry it away. Heave it into the slip. Wait––maybe you’ll have to hoist the hatches. ’Tisn’t raining much now, anyway, and it will soon stop altogether. Might as well go aloft and make a good job of the hatches, hadn’t he, Peter?”
“Wait a minute.” Peter was squinting through the porthole. “I shouldn’t wonder but this is one of our fellows coming in. I know she’s a banker. The Enchantress, I think. Look, Tommie, and see what you make of her.”
Clancy looked. “That’s who it is, Peter. Hi, Johnnie, here’ll be a chance for you to hoist the flag. Hurry aloft and tend to the hatches, as Peter says, and you can hoist the flag for the Enchantress home from the Banks.”
In bad weather, like it was that day, the little 36 balcony of Crow’s Nest was shut in by little hatches, arranged so that they could be run up and down, the same as hatches are slid over the companionway of a fisherman’s cabin or forec’s’le. Johnnie was a pretty active boy, and he was up the rope ladder and onto the roof in a few seconds. We could hear him walking above, and soon the hatches slid away and we all could look freely out to sea again.
“All right below?” called out Johnnie.
“Not yet,” answered Peter. He was standing by the rail of the balcony and untwisting the halyards that served to hoist the signal-flags to the mast-head. Peter seemed slow at it, and Clancy called out again, “Wait a bit, and we’ll overhaul the halyards.” Then, looking up and noticing that Johnnie was standing on the edge of the roof, he added, “And be careful and not slip on those wet planks.”