"Well, when I become a shipper, I don't intend to go broke, I'm going to stay right up with the leaders. So I want to know all I can learn about oystering—office work as well as navigation. And as for your office work, if you had a typewriter I could answer your letters in the afternoons, after the Bertha B gets in. The skipper could put me ashore before he unloads his oysters. Why, I could have your letters pretty well cleaned up before the boat made fast for the night. I could help you quite a lot, sir."
"Um!" grunted the shipper. "I'll think it over."
But before the captain came to a decision, Alec had found another task that took every moment of his spare time. The weather turned warm, and the fleet resumed work. The usual activity again prevailed at the pier shed. In the midst of it, old Pete had a paralytic stroke. He could no longer collect shells, and many a shipper found himself with his scows still full of shells when morning came. Captain Rumford was one of them. Alec was quick to see the opportunity. If he could take care of these shells, he would help both his employer and himself, for he could sell the shells when spring came, to the oyster-planters. At once he spoke to Captain Rumford about it.
"If I could get a boat," he said, "I would guarantee to keep your scows clean."
"If there was any way you could do it," said the shipper, "I'd be mighty glad to let you. I'm tired of fooling with these old fellows. It's a real shell game they work on us."
"I can do it easily, sir," pleaded Alec. "I have lots of time after the Bertha B reaches her pier."
"Maybe you could," said the shipper, still hesitating.
"Of course I could. I might have to work after dark sometimes, but I wouldn't mind that."
"We'll try it," said the shipper suddenly, "but what are you going to do about a boat?"