Now her deck was empty. To the last oyster it had been cleaned. Sharp about swung the little vessel, crowding on all sail, taking advantage of every wind, hastening back to the seed grounds.
Day after day, in rain and in shine, in fog and when the sun shone clear, with the wind whistling sharp and in days of calm, the Bertha B sailed back and forth over the breeding grounds, and to and from her planting beds. And every hand aboard of her toiled to his utmost. No more did the little vessel nightly seek her harbor. No more did the fleet sail in and out with each rising and setting of the sun. And when the planting was finished, came the shelling of the grounds, the Bertha B daily bringing huge deck loads of shells to scatter on the bottom of the beds.
During the spring planting days Alec learned what it meant to sleep in the cradle of the deep. Sometimes the moon fell soft on the sleeping waters, when he sought his bunk. And again inky clouds blotted out the stars, and the wind soughed ominously through the rigging, or storms whistled past the ship's bare poles, as she wallowed at her anchor in the rolling waves. But soon it was all one to Alec. He was doing a man's work. He was toiling like a Trojan. And neither the lure of the moonbeams nor the roar of a storm could long keep him from his bunk, once night had come.
By the end of June, when the planting season was over, and the Bertha B for the last time lifted her anchor and homeward winged her way, Alec had become a sailor as well as an oysterman. He had learned a tremendous lot, not only about oysters, but also about handling a ship. Once he had thought he was a sailor, when he manœuvred his little boat at home. Now he smiled at the memory of those earlier efforts. They seemed childish, indeed. For more than once he had been allowed to handle the Bertha B as she flew across the Bay. And he had picked up a tremendous lot of information about currents, eddies, drifts, shoals, tides, slicks, and storms. He was getting his tool-kit thoroughly stocked indeed. It was well, for he would soon have need of all the skill and knowledge he possessed.
CHAPTER XVII A SEARCH FOR TRUTH
Early July, which saw the end of both oyster planting, and the shelling of the grounds, found the pile of shells of Cunningham and Hawley entirely exhausted. Where so recently these shells had risen in a mountainous heap, there was now only bare earth, whitened with shell chips. There had been thousands of bushels in the pile. When the partners reckoned up their income and adjusted their finances, each had a nice little sum of money.
The instant their affairs were settled, Alec set about other matters. Long ago he had ordered and received the instruments that he knew would be necessary in his summer's work. These included a compound microscope, half a dozen concave watch crystals, two settling glasses, two graduated cylinders, two glass pipettes, two large rubber pipettes, four small medicine droppers, a ten-quart galvanized bucket, a simple lift pump, some rubber hose, and a salinometer with thermometer enclosed. In addition Alec had picked up some wide-mouthed bottles, for holding samples; had fastened several needles in wooden handles he had whittled out of sticks; and had bought a yard of bolting-cloth with very fine meshes, from which, with Elsa's assistance, he had made a net, conical in shape, fastened about a metal ring, with an opening at the bottom that could be closed tight with a draw string.
Even by practicing what economies he could, Alec had had to spend nearly seventy-five dollars for the outfit. More than once he had asked himself if it was really worth while; if, after all, these old practical oyster captains didn't really know more about how and where to grow oysters than any mere scientific theorist possibly could. Wasn't he really foolish to spend all this money? Wasn't he really throwing it away? He had such need for it, in the purchase of articles more commonly seen in an oyster fleet. His doubts had hurt and discouraged him. He needed some one with whom he could talk the matter over. When he looked about, he saw the same old situation. It was useless to talk to any of his three friends, Hawley, Bagley, or the shipper. He knew that not one of them would consider the matter from a serious, impartial, reasonable view-point. So he had been forced to take the matter to Elsa.