"What is it?" asked the shipper in a dull, lifeless tone.
"Please come look at the Bertha B. I just wanted you to see her before we go to the float."
The shipper followed Alec down the pier. Half-way he stopped dead in his tracks, paralyzed with astonishment. The Bertha B sat so low in the water her decks were almost awash. Her cabin, her hatches, her deck, her forepeak, all were covered with oysters. The boat was fairly swamped with them.
"Oysters!" gasped the astonished shipper. "How many have you? Where did you get them? What are you going to do with them?"
"There's more than a thousand dollars' worth," said Alec. "We are going to put them on your big float up the river."
"But where did you get them?"
"In the bed I just leased—Tom Hardy's bed. Come into the office and I'll tell you all about it. I don't want to do it here."
Alec waved his hand to Skipper Hawley, then took the shipper by the arm and led him up to his office.
"Captain Rumford," he said, "there are oysters and oysters and oysters out there. I can bring you in a thousand dollars' worth a day. While we were at it, we just looked at my grounds and they're simply covered with oysters, too. There are tons and tons of them in my beds. They are a little too small to dredge yet, but they'll be all right next fall. And your own shallow beds will be ready to dredge then, too."