A couple of East Side loafers standing on the wharf cap-log were nearly swept away by the end of our bowsprit, we came on so fast. Four or five of us leaped ashore, and with lines out and made fast in no time, we had her docked without so much 151 as cracking a single shingle of the house across the head of the dock.
We sold our mackerel for nineteen cents apiece. Fifty-seven hundred and odd dollars was our stock, and about a hundred and forty dollars each man’s share. We felt a little bit chesty after that. We were not the first to market that year, but we were the first since the early flurry, and the biggest stock so far that spring was to our credit.
We stood on the deck and watched the porgy steamer come in and tie up, too late for that day’s market. Some of our fellows had to ask them where they got their fish––to the s’uth’ard or where?––and two or three fights came out of it, but no harm done. Then nearly everybody drew some money off the skipper, and we smoked fifteen-cent cigars and threw our chests out. We all went uptown, too, and took in the theatres that night, and afterwards treated each other and pretty nearly everybody else that we met along the East Side on the way back, until the policemen began to notice us and ask if we didn’t think we’d better be getting back to our ships. One or two of the crew had to get into fights with the toughs along the water front, but we were all safely aboard by three o’clock in the morning.
All but Clancy. Some of us were trying to get some sleep along towards morning when Clancy 152 came aboard with a fine shore list. The cook, who was up and stirring about for breakfast, noticed him first. “It’s a fine list you’ve got, Tommie.”
“And why not?––and a fine beam wind coming down the street. I’m like a lot of other deep-draught craft of good model, George––I sail best with the wind abeam. A bit of a list gets you down to your lines.” And until we turned out for breakfast, after which it was time to be off and away to the fleet again, he kept us all in a roar with the story of his adventures.
XVIII
A BRUSH WITH THE YACHTING FLEET
Through all of that month and through most of the month of May we chased the mackerel up the coast. By the middle of May we were well up front with the killers, and our skipper’s reputation was gaining. The vessel, too, was getting quite a name as a sailer. Along the Maryland, Delaware, and Jersey coasts we chased them––on up to off Sandy Hook and then along the Long Island shore, running them fresh into New York. There were nights and days that spring when we saw some driving on the Johnnie Duncan.