Presently the skipper got his shipping tags and tied them on the sacks. Then a man with a truck began to wheel the sacks away to the cars.
Dinner time came. All hands went up to the office to eat their lunches, about the warm stove.
"Here," said Zipp, seeing that Alec had nothing to eat, "have a sandwich."
"No. Thanks," said Alec, rather diffidently. "I am not very hungry." But his eyes belied his tongue.
"That won't do at all," said the skipper. "Take this and run over to the hotel and get a good square meal."
Alec protested. The oyster shipper shoved a dollar into his hand.
"Now run along, quick," he said, "for we've got to get right back to work as soon as we can. And none of us can work without food."
Alec was glad enough when Captain Rumford insisted, and taking the money, he hurried away to get his dinner. The long table fairly groaned under the array of good things, and every diner was free to eat as much as he liked. For the first time in his life, Alec ate oyster potpie; and wished he could hold more. His dinner cost him seventy-five cents, and Alec began to understand how fortunate he was to be eating aboard the Bertha B. Even if his pay should prove to be small, he could still save something, and he needed money desperately.
Alec intended to give back to Captain Rumford the twenty-five cents left from his dollar. But the men were already in the scows when he got back and Captain Rumford was up in his office. Alec went to work, and forgot about the quarter.
All the afternoon Alec worked as fast as he could make his fingers fly. He was working alongside of Zipp, one of the most expert oyster counters at Bivalve; and it provoked Alec that he could not hand up the baskets as fast as his fellow. But try as he would, he could not fill the basket as rapidly as Zipp did. The oysters were all counted and sacked before the Bertha B came chugging up to her pier. Alec went aboard her as soon as she made fast, and the cook considerately gave him his supper.