“Hooray!” cried Joe Hinman, throwing up his cap. “At this rate, we’ll have the rope paid for, and the nails, and something more besides, when Jack and Henry Burns get back. We’ll come pretty near taking care of ourselves for the rest of the summer.”
Already the crew, with visions of being self-supporting, began to have an increased respect for themselves. It was an agreeable sensation.
They soon found, however, that they were handicapped by the need of a car to store their catch in; for, on some days when they had lobsters to sell, the cottagers didn’t happen to want any; and again it happened that they hadn’t any on hand when they were wanted. They began the construction of a car, therefore, out of some old packing-boxes, after they had finished a few more pots, and were hard at work on it when the yacht Viking hove in sight on an afternoon.
The Viking, following its frightful experience in the storm, had had a prosperous trip. The boys had made some heavy catches, and were returning with twenty-two hard-earned dollars.
There was a joyful celebration down on the shore that evening, in honour of the Viking’s return, and to commemorate their luck as fishermen.
“You’ve been buying the stuff for us all along,” Joe Hinman had said to Jack Harvey. “Just come down to the camp to-night, and bring Tom and Bob and the Warren boys. We’ll get the food this time.”
And they did, in generous style. There were seven of the biggest and fiercest-looking lobsters that they had caught in the last two days, broiling over a bed of red coals, when the visitors arrived. There were two tins of biscuit, baked in the sheet-iron oven. There were provisions that the crew had been able to buy with their own earnings. There were potatoes baked in the ashes, and coffee, steaming hot.
“Yes, and what’s more, Jack,” said Joe Hinman, as they sat about the fire on the shore, “there’s enough stuff left to make about seven more pots. You fellows can go ahead and make the rest, if you want to; and we’ll take turns tending them and getting the bait.”
“All right,” replied Harvey; “and if we get a bigger stock in the car than we can dispose of around here, we’ll load up the Viking, when we get a strong westerly some day, and run down to the big hotel at Stoneland. They’ll pay bigger prices than we can get at the market.”
“My! but this lobster is good,” said young Joe Warren. “Henry, pass over that melted butter and vinegar.”