Cap'n McGaw was pleadin' with me, then Mr. McMillan. They swore they'd take me to the wreck for nothin', they'd give their Bible oath, they'd sign agreements. McGaw had a wife and family ashore. McMillan was in love.
I turned off the bilge-valve injection, opened the fore hatch, and set them two to work. They was quite tame, and that night I slept—only to wake up screechin' at the things I seen in dreams.
Seven days we searched for the wreck before we gave up and quit, at least the captains did. Then night come down black overhead, with the swell all phosphorescent. I allus think of mother in a light sea under a black sky, like it was that night, when our tug run into the wreck by accident.
I jumped first on board. The poor hulk lay flush with the swell, lifting and falling just enough to roll the thin green water, all bright specks, across and across the deck. Mother was there, her bare arm reaching out, her left hand lifting her skirt, her face looking up, dreaming as she turned, and turned, and swayed, in a slow dance. It's what they calls a waltz, and seems, as I stood watching, I'd almost see the music swaying her as she wove circles, water of stars pouring over her bare feet. Seems though the music stopped, and she came straight to me. Speaks like a lil' small girl. "Oh, mummy," she says, "look," and draws her hands apart so, just as if she was showing a long ribbon, "watered silk," she mutters, "only nine cents a yard. Oh, mayn't I, mayn't I, mummy?"
And there was dad, with all that water of stars washing across and across him.
CHAPTER III
YOUTH
A dog sets down in his skin, tail handy for wagging—all his possessions right thar.
Same with me, setting on the beach, with a cap, jersey, overalls, sea boots, paper bag of peanuts, beached wreck of the old Pawnticket in front, and them two graves astern. Got more'n a dog has to think about, more to remember, nothin' to wag. Two days I been there, and the peanuts is getting few. Little gray mother, dad, the Happy Ship, just dead, that's all, dead. The tide makes and ebbs, the wind comes and goes, there's days, nights and the little waves beating time—time—time, just as if they cared, which they don't.