Cap’n Dan’s Son BY Bernard Teevan
THE old sailor, Cap’n Dan, sat on the edge of the deck house of the sloop Agnes T., watching the fleet coming in from the day’s work at “dragraking.” The “handrakers” were already in, the contents of their baskets emptied into his, and piled up neatly in the hold, their scores tallied up in the little leather-covered notebook that was Cap’n Dan’s daybook, ledger, journal, and everything else known to the practice of accounts.
The handrakers had all brought in a good day’s catch. If the dragrakers did as well, the Agnes T. would have a heavy load to carry to the city, and the money to meet the note which would soon be due would be ready when the time came to pay it.
Cap’n Dan cast an eye aloft at the empty bushel basket which had been hoisted at the masthead to let every one know the Agnes T. was ready to buy clams. Then he looked out toward the mouth of the harbor, where the first of the fleet of dragrakers was coming in around the point. In that instant the expression of his face altered, and his troubled glance changed to one of pride and pleasure.
The cut of the head of the mainsail told him that, as usual, it was the Victorine that was leading the fleet, outpointing and outfooting the Ranger, Nautilus, and the Dashaway, to say nothing of the other sloops less famed for their speed. Parental pride shone clear in his gray eyes, for was not the Victorine his own boat, and was not his only son, Young Dan, sailing her?
Young Dan, at twenty-one, had already won the reputation of being the smartest boatman in Lockport. The way he would carry on sail was, in the words of the clammers, “a caution.” Me was the light of his father’s eye, and Cap’n Dan had begun to lean rather heavily on his son.
He was looking forward to the time when Dan’s already keen business ability would be sufficiently recognized to have the dealers up in the market place the same reliance on his word as they had for so many years placed on the father’s. Then he could step aside and take a rest, that rest so many men look forward to before the great rest comes.
When Young Dan caught sight of his father he arose from his seat on the wheel box and swung his arm in salutation. Then he gave the wheel a couple of turns, shot the Victorine up in the wind, and laid her alongside the Agnes T. as if the sloop were a fast horse, that a skillful driver had stopped at a carriage block.