XVII
A DRIVE FOR MARKET
Her deck was pretty well filled with mackerel when “All dry,” said Long Steve, and drew the last of the seine into the boat.
“Then hurry aboard and drop that seine-boat astern. And––whose watch? Take the wheel––wait till I give you the course––there. But don’t drive her awhile yet. Some of those fish might be washed over. But it won’t be for long.”
“Ready with the ice?” he asked next.
“All ready,” and the men who had been chopping ice and making ready the pens in the hold stood by to take the mackerel as we passed them down.
As soon as we had enough of them off the vessel’s deck to make it safe to drive her, the skipper gave her a little more sheet and let her go for New York. We hustled the seine-boat aboard too. Some other vessels must have got fish, too, and there was no time to waste.
It was a good-sized school and when we had them all iced and below––more than thirty thousand count––it was time for all hands to turn in––all 145 but the two men on watch of course. I didn’t turn in myself, but after a mug-up and pipeful below came on deck again. It was a pretty good sort of a night for a dark night, with a moderate breeze that sang in your ears when you leaned against the halyards and a sea that lapped bucketfuls of spray over her rail forward and that tumbled away in a wide flat hump as our quarter slipped on and left it behind.