My tutor laughed again; and I was glad that he did––in that kind way. I was glad––’twas a flush of warm feeling––that my tutor and Judith were at once upon terms of understanding. I was glad that Judith smiled, glad that she looked again, with favor, in interested speculation, into the dark eyes which smiled back at her again. I would have them friends––’twas according to my plan....
At mid-day the wrath of the sea began to fail. The racing lop, the eager, fuming crests––a black-and-white confusion beneath the quiet, gray fog––subsided into reasonableness. ’Twas wild enough, wind and sea, beyond the tickle rocks; but still ’twas fishing weather and water for the courageous.
The fool of Twist Tickle came to our gate. “Mother always ’lowed,” says he, “that when a man could he ought t’; an’ mother knowed.”
“You’re never bound out, Moses!”
“Well,” he drawled, “mother always ’lowed that when a man could pick up a scattered fish an’ wouldn’t, he were a mean sort o’ coward.”
“An’ you’ll be takin’ me?”
“I was ’lowin’,” he answered, “that us might get out an’ back an us tried.”
’Twas a brave prospect. Beyond the tickle in a gale o wind! ’Twas irresistible––to be accomplished with the fool of Twist Tickle and his clever punt. I left the pottering Cather to put ship-shape his cabin (as he now called it) for himself––a rainy-day occupation for aliens. In high delight I put out with Moses Shoos to the Off-and-On grounds. Man’s work, this! ’Twas hard sailing for a hook-and-line punt––the reel and rush and splash of it––but an employment the most engaging. ’Twas worse fishing in the toss and smother of the grounds; but ’twas a thrilling reward when the catch came flopping overside––the spoil of a doughty foray. We fished a clean half-quintal; then, late in the day, a rising wind caught us napping in Hell Alley. It came on to blow from the east with fury. There was no beating up to the tickle in the teeth of it; ’twas a task beyond the little punt, drive her to it as we would. When dusk came––dusk fast turning the fog black––the fool turned tail and wisely ran for Whisper Cove. ’Twas dark when we moored the punt to the stage-head: a black night come again, blowing wildly with rain––great gusts of wind threshing the trees above, screaming from cliff to cliff. There were lights at Judith’s: ’twas straightway in our minds to ask a cup of tea in her 144 kitchen; but when we came near the door ’twas to the discovery of company moving in and out.