The sailor picked up a culling hammer, which was very much like an enlarged tack-hammer, and fell to sorting oysters. The very largest he put in a basket by themselves. These were "primes," and there were few of them. The remaining oysters, the "culls," he dropped into another basket as fast as he could sort them out. Many old oyster shells had come up with the dredge. These and the "rattlers" (oysters with cracked or broken shells), the sailor raked into a little pile by themselves with his culling hammer. The rattlers were detected by tapping the shells with the hammer. They gave forth a hollow, rattling sound.
Alec dropped on one knee, in imitation of his companion, and also began to cull the oysters. At first he was somewhat clumsy; but with a little practice, he acquired considerable dexterity. In the heap with the oysters were a few clams, a small crab, a conch shell, and an evil-looking fish, that the sailor struck in the head with his culling hammer and contemptuously called a "Cape May minister." When the sailor had filled his basket with cull oysters, he dumped it in the middle of the deck hard against the pilot-house. Then he dropped a single oyster in a basket that stood in front of the winders. Alec filled his basket and the sailor dumped it also and dropped another oyster in the basket. It was the method of keeping tally.
Meantime the other dredge had come aboard, and Dick and Joe were also hard at it. The captain, operating the dredges from the pilot-house, brought up the dredges at frequent intervals. When the starboard dredge chain began to wind up again, Alec and the sailor seized their shovels and shoveled the old shells and rattlers overboard again. But try as they would, they could hardly cull their pile of oysters before another dredgeful came aboard. Alec observed that Sailor Bishop was much the quickest of the three men at the dredges. He determined to watch him closely and try to become just as expert himself.
Also he understood why the captain had had him don water-proof clothes. The deck was adrip with water from the oysters, and every few minutes a wave splashed against the side of the boat, drenching the schooner with spray. Without the oilskins Alec would soon have been wet to the hide.
He found, too, that he needed more than oilskins to protect him. His fingers were rapidly becoming raw, and he saw that they would soon be cut to the bone by the sharp shells. His companions all wore rubber finger-stalls and Alec sighed with relief when he found that he could borrow some for his own fingers.
Presently Alec noticed that another oyster-boat was dredging in the adjoining bed. As the two boats sailed back and forth, passing and repassing each other, Alec couldn't help thinking how much like two farmers they were, plowing in adjoining fields. The other boat was one of the few ships in the fleet that still operated by wind power. Alec thought her a beautiful sight as she heeled over before the sharp wind, and sent the waves foaming from her bow and the spray dashing high. And she was far more picturesque than the Bertha B, which spread no sails at all. For this ship had all her sails set, and her steersman stood on deck in the open, vigorously twirling his steering-wheel.
The day wore on. Monotonously the Bertha B's propeller churned the yeasty waves. The winders rattled and clanked. Regularly the dredges came aboard and were dropped back again into the waves. The wind blew fresh. The sun shone bright. The waves sparkled. The pile of oysters before the pilot-house grew larger and larger. From time to time the cook slipped into the cabin, and Bishop stepped across the deck to help Joe with the other dredge. Now that he had acquired some facility in handling the oysters, and his fingers no longer smarted with the salt water, Alec enjoyed every moment. He didn't feel the least bit seasick, and the cool, fresh air was delightful to breathe. But he could see that in cold, stormy weather it would be anything but fun to work on the open deck of an oyster-boat. Time passed faster than he dreamed. For suddenly the Bertha B's whistle blew. The oystermen stopped work as though they had been shot.
"What's wrong?" asked Alec.
"Nothing," said Bishop. "It's time for dinner."
"But it can't be noon yet," insisted Alec.