with the completion of the aerial cableway and the clearing of the surface of the rock the hood island construction camp became a very busy place. a score or more of men were to be seen on the big rock whenever the waves were not piling up on top of it (as always happened when a storm came in) and the donkey engine that operated the cableway was puffing and snorting from daylight until darkness settled down.
jack and ray found that their duties increased with the rush of work also, for besides their tasks in mr. warner’s office there were numerous other small jobs about the camp that they could accomplish. but for all that they had plenty of time on their hands to roam about the rocky shores of the island, or take short trips in the dory that belonged to captain eli and was moored down off the sandy beach near the whaleboats. the boys made[108] frequent trips to cobra head, also traveling by way of the aerial cable of course. indeed, jack and big o’brien were the first to ride down to the rock, on a section of stone that was conveyed to the lighthouse site. this was more or less of a perilous trip and big o’brien insisted on accompanying the lad when he heard that he was going.
but with all these possibilities for a good time ray seemed to become less interested in the construction work as the days went on. in truth, he developed a certain melancholy air which, after a time, became very noticeable. this, of course, puzzled jack, as it did the engineer and the others of the camp who had become friendly with him. more than once jack sought to gain his confidence and have him tell his troubles, but the boy always appeared to cheer up for the time and assure the youth from vermont that he had not a single trouble in the world. jack knew well that this was not true, however, and to add to the mystery of it all, ray frequently strayed away from the camp in the evening or when he had no work to do and went wandering down along the rocky shore of the island until he came to a[109] secluded spot where he would sit and brood over his troubles for hours at a time.
it was after one of these mysterious disappearances one afternoon that jack went in search of his companion, quite determined to get at the bottom of all that was upsetting his peace of mind. the lad from drueryville had seen ray steal away and go down the path that led to the little beach near where the whaleboats were moored. he watched him as long as he could, but when he saw ray walk the entire length of the sandy strip and start climbing along the rock-strewn shore beyond, he decided to follow.
but jack soon discovered that his chum had not gone far. just on the other side of the beach he saw the lonesome figure perched upon a smooth chunk of granite, his back resting against a large boulder just behind him. ray’s hat was off and the wind was playing with his hair. he was staring off into space in a most preoccupied manner, and the expression on his face was that of a lad who was greatly disappointed over something.
so absorbed was he with his troubles that jack managed to come up very close to him[110] before the young swordfisherman was aware of his presence. when he did notice the vermonter, he seemed very much chagrined at being discovered and a sheepish smile wrinkled the corners of his mouth.
“hello, ray,” said jack, sitting down upon the rock beside him. “i hope you’ll excuse me for following you, but—well, hang it all, you looked so glum that i just naturally worry over you. something is on your mind, old chap, and i do wish that you would spit it out. tell me all about it. maybe i can help you or at least give you some advice.”
“pshaw, jack, don’t mind me. my troubles don’t amount to a row o’ pins to any one except myself. shucks, let’s forget about it.”
“no, siree, now, ray, i want to know. look here; we’ve been pretty good friends since you came to the island in that whirlwind fashion, a couple of weeks ago, and i think that i should know all about your difficulties.”
“aw, i haven’t any real troubles. i’m just disappointed, that’s all. you see—aw—er—let’s forget about it, will you?”
“no, no, ray, come on, shout it out,” insisted jack.
[111]
“i tell you it’s just disappointment, that’s all. you see i had laid so much store by it that i—”
“by what?” demanded jack.
“why, by my model—my non-sinkable lifeboat, you know. the one that uncle vance threw overboard.”
“oh, i see, now i understand. i’d forgotten all about it. well, why don’t you build a new model, old chap?”
“why—er—well you see, jack, i’ve been trying to, but, hang it all, i haven’t the material, for one thing, and—and—well, i’ve—you see there are a lot of figures about it that i’ve forgotten. i don’t know just how i did build the first one. it was made of sheet metal all soldered together and i can’t get a bit of tin or sheet iron here. i tried to make one of wood but that don’t go either. gee, i am up against it. and i wanted to see if i couldn’t earn enough money with it—aw, shucks, let’s quit talkin’ about it. there’s no use in worrying you about it too, jack.”
“well, i’m mighty interested, ray,” said jack encouragingly. “what was the principle of the thing?”
[112]
“why, just this, jack. you remember when the titanic was wrecked about a year ago? sure you do. well, when that happened there was a lot of talk about not enough lifeboats, and about the general unsafe condition of the boats that were being used on board the various steamers. that set me a-thinking and i decided to try and build a boat that wouldn’t sink and could not turn over, no matter how hard a wave hit it. then after months of pottering around i worked out my model which looked like a big pumpkin seed roofed over. it was all fitted up, airtight compartments in the bow and stern, and the keel was so balanced, and the roof so well made, that even if the boat should be launched upside down, it would right itself and not ship a drop of water. there was a little place for a motor which, of course, could not be put in the model, but could be put in a big boat of regulation lifeboat size. it could also be propelled by oars and it had a number of advantages over the old-fashioned open lifeboat.”
“my, but that’s interesting,” said jack; “i sure would like to see it.”
“well, i guess it’ll be a long time before i[113] can build another and, by george, i’m getting older all the time. i’m nearly seventeen now.”
“what of that?” said jack.
“what of it? why, i want to go to high school some time, and college too. i sort of hoped that i might make money enough out of my invention to pay my way through school. i can’t wait until i am a full-grown man to go to ‘prep’ school, can i? and now that i’ve quit uncle vance i haven’t a single person in the world to help me. not that i could ever expect any real help from him. but then a fellow needs a grown-up friend or two, no matter how cussed mean they are to him at times. but uncle vance was dead set against my ever going to school again—said it would make me even lazier than i am. i’m not lazy, am i, jack?”
“indeed, you’re not,” said jack, and then he fell to thinking, for ray’s remarks about school brought jack’s mind back to drueryville academy, and, of course, the first thing that he thought of in connection with the school was the football situation for the next fall.
“jiminy, i certainly wish that you had[114] made money out of your invention,” he said after a moment.
“why?” queried ray in surprise.
“well, we need a full-back out at drueryville academy and if you were going to go to ‘prep’ school i surely would see that you found your way over to vermont. you’d make a corking full-back, ray. got the right build and all, and you’re strong as a bull, too. ever play football?”
“ever play? no, but i’d like to. hang it, jack, i haven’t ever been able to play at anything. never had the chance that other boys get. all my life has been work and darned hard work, too. and when i haven’t been working, i’ve been quarreling with uncle vance or trying to keep out of his way, either one,” said ray bitterly.
“never mind,” said jack solicitously, for he saw how unhappy ray really was. “your time will come, just you wait and see. i’m going to speak to mr. warner about your schooling, anyway. perhaps he can help you out with some good advice at least. pshaw, come on, let’s forget about your troubles. i’ll tell you what we’ll do. let’s go for a row in[115] captain eli’s dory. we’ve never been down near the lower end of the island. i’d like to explore. are you game for a row, ray? mr. warner says that he will not have anything for us to do until some time to-morrow. how about it?”
“sure enough,” said the unhappy youngster and presently the two boys were climbing over the rocks back toward the little strip of beach where the boats waited, gently tugging at their mooring lines.
it was a wonderful july afternoon, with scarcely a cloud in the warm blue sky. out beyond the reef the broad atlantic rolled on lazily under the summer sun, while inside even the currents that usually raced between the ledge of rocks and the island seemed to have become sluggish.
“let me take the oars,” said ray, after the two lads had waded out and climbed aboard the dory, “i have the blues and there’s nothing like some good husky exercise to work them out of a fellow’s system.”
jack consented and shortly the little craft was slipping along through the water under the young swordfisherman’s steady stroke. in[116] half an hour they had passed the southern end of the reef and gone beyond the reach of the currents into the open sea. ray kept the boat about half a mile off the shore of the island and rowed steadily southward, apparently taking a great deal of pleasure in working the stiffness out of his muscular arms and back. as for jack, he lay off in the stern of the boat thinking of nothing in particular.
presently, however, ray stopped rowing and appeared to listen. then turning, he looked ahead and announced.
“jack, there’s a school of mackerel ahead of us. look in the locker there under the stern thwart, and see if captain eli has any fishing tackle. perhaps we can find a couple of jigs in there.”
“eh, how’s that? how do you know there’s a school of mackerel ahead? i see some gulls out there feeding on something but—”
“that’s just it. i heard ’em squealing like a whole flock of cats. if you’d been around salt water as long as i have you’d know they are feeding on little menhaden and wherever there’s a school of them you’ll be sure to find mackerel—or pollock. if it’s a school of pollock[117] then we can have some fun, providing, of course, we can find some fish lines. pollock are the gamiest fish in the sea.”
jack became enthusiastic immediately and quickly began a search under the stern seat. in a moment he resurrected a dilapidated market basket half full of coils of line, fish hooks, jigs, and a double handful of clams.
“fine!” exclaimed ray, surveying the outfit. “we’ll have fresh fish for supper all right. here, jack, break open one of those clams and cut out a chunk of the tough part. there, that’s it. now hook it onto that jig; just double it over the hook so, it doesn’t make any difference whether you have the point covered or not. now throw it over the stern, and let out about sixty feet of line while i row. you’ll feel ’em take hold in a minute; they’re coming this way.”
ray bent to the oars again and started the boat toward the flock of gulls that were flying close to the surface and diving in and out of the water, squeaking and calling at a furious rate. jack had hardly got the jig overboard before the dory was among the fish. they were big fellows, according to jack’s way of thinking,[118] but ray said that they were only young pollock. but jack had no time to argue the matter, for the next second something struck his jig savagely and the heavy line shot through his fingers and scorched a blister on the flesh before the fish let go.
“oh—wow,” howled jack, shaking his hand.
“ho, ho, that was funny,” laughed ray. “loop the line around your hand next time jack, and snub him good. then keep hauling in as hard as you can, or you’ll lose him.”
jack hooked another piece of clam onto the jig and tossed it astern, and the moment he had the line looped about his hand came another savage jerk— zipp-pp hissed the line through the water, but jack snubbed back and started to haul away hand over hand, the fish thrashing from side to side and even jumping clear of the water in his mad effort to tear free.
“wow, what a corker,” cried jack, as he swung the struggling thing into the dory.
“oh, he isn’t so big,” said ray. “pollock grow sixty and seventy pounds and i’ve seen ’em even bigger than that. that’s only a young one you caught. weighs about five[119] pounds, i guess. this is a school of little ones, i tell you. try again.”
jack hove the jig again and for the next fifteen minutes he was busy as could be hauling in the big silvery fish. they bit ravenously and before he knew it he had caught at least a score. finally his fingers became so blistered and chafed that he simply had to quit.
“here,” he said, “you take the line, ray. i’m through.”
“all right,” said ray. “keep rowing around in a big figure eight. keep right in the school. follow the birds. i’ll see if i can’t yank out a couple of big ones just for luck. i wish i had a pair of nippers, though—those are woolen gloves with the fingers cut. they protect your hands. all fishermen use ’em up here on the maine coast.”
but before ray had caught more than a couple of fish, the surface of the water became suddenly quiet again and the troop of gulls, after a few farewell squeaks, dispersed and flew off in different directions.
“hang it, just when i started to get interested the bloomin’ things disappear. that’s my luck. too bad. they’ll come to the surface[120] again somewhere else, but there’s no use of our trying to follow them. they may come up a mile or so out to sea. guess we’re through fishing for to-day. i don’t care though, do you?”
“no, only for your sake,” said jack. “i was selfish to keep the line so long.”
“oh, pshaw, don’t mind me. i’ve had more fishing than a little. when a fellow has to do it for a living it ceases to be fun,” said ray with a smile, as he sat down in the stern and surveyed the catch.
“jiminy,” he added, “we’ve enough fish to feed the camp.”
“i guess we have, but say, i’ll bet that net over there is filled with ’em,” answered jack.
“net? what net? where?” asked ray.
“why, that net over there. see those buoys in toward the island? they are fastened to a net, aren’t they?”
ray looked in the direction in which jack was pointing and saw a line of half a dozen black and white buoys dancing on the surface.
“no, jack, those aren’t net buoys. those are lobster pots. some one has a line of traps[121] set along here. looks like he’d picked out a good place too. all rock bottom.”
“are those lobster traps?” asked jack, becoming interested immediately.
“sure they are. net buoys are entirely different looking affairs.”
“i never saw a lobster pot. what do they look like?” queried the vermonter.
“pshaw, don’t you know what they are like. let’s row over and we’ll haul one. i don’t believe it would make any difference so long as we don’t take any of the lobsters. i know it’s considered a terrible thing among lobstermen for one man to haul another man’s trap, but we won’t steal anything.”
“oh, i have an idea what they look like. never mind about pulling it up,” said jack.
“no, no, come on, we’ll row over. i’ll haul it. ’twon’t make a particle of difference. and besides there’s no one around to see us. i wonder who owns it?”
“why, perhaps that old fellow captain eli says lives on this end of the island. he’s a lobsterman,” said jack as he headed the boat in the direction of the buoys.
[122]
“that’s right, perhaps they are his,” said ray.
it was only a matter of a hundred yards or more to the buoy and soon jack pulled the dory around close to the bobbing thing. then ray stood up and reaching the line attached to it began to pull it in hand over hand. presently he reached a section of the line to which two tightly corked bottles were attached. he held them up for jack to see, explaining in the meantime that they were fastened to the warping, which is the fisherman’s term for the line, to keep it off the bottom so that it would not foul with the rocks. the bottles, he said, acted as floats which kept the warping midway between the rocky bottom and the surface.
ray pulled some more and soon the big lobster pot came dripping from the water. it was a peculiar crate-like affair, shaped like half of a cylinder, and at either end was a pocket-like net with a hole in the very bottom through which the lobsters crawled to get at the bait suspended in a bag in the middle of the trap. there were four big green lobsters in the trap and innumerable brown rock crabs which[123] clicked their horny claws maliciously as jack and ray took hold of the trap.
“say, but they look ugly, don’t they?” exclaimed ray as he looked between the slats.
“ugly? you bet they are. if that big green fellow should get hold of your finger you’d lose it (i mean your finger) mighty quick.”
“what do they use for bait?” asked jack.
“dead fish—flounders mostly, although—”
“’i there, throw that air trap hoverboard! quick now! look lively there, you bloomin’ lobster piruts. hoverboard wi’ hit an’ put hup yer ’ands er hi’ll blow yer bloody ’eds hoff,” shouted some one. and turning, the two lads found themselves facing a bewhiskered old fisherman with a wooden leg, who stood in the stern of a trim little sloop, the tiller in one hand and a tremendously big but old-fashioned revolver in the other.
“by george, it’s the owner of the lobster traps,” said ray, shoving the contrivance overboard and putting his hands above his head. jack looked at the blunderbuss, then having made up his mind that perhaps it would go off if urged, he too held up his hands.
[124]
“i got ’e now, i ’ave. i been a layin’ fer t’ two o’ ye fer a week past. says i t’ myself says i, mitch, hole topper, they’ll show hup agin an’ you can slip hout hin yer hole betsy hanne an’ poak yer hole barker hunder their noses and there you ’ave ’em. an’ hup you showed, an’ ’ere i are wi’ me betsy hanne and me hole barker, an’ ’ere you are jest es neat en’ snug wi’ yer ’ands above yer ’ed and lookin’ t’ bloomin’ crookedest crooks as ever was. an’ now me an’ me betsy hanne is goin’ t’ take both o’ ye t’ th’ warden at haustin’s pool an’ ’e’ll jug ye as tight as ever was. honely which one o’ you is th’ lad as has t’ ’nitials j. s.?”
the little sloop had come up in the wind in the meantime and the fisherman, still keeping the lads covered with the old revolver, had by means of a short boathook pulled the dory alongside.
“come,” he said impatiently, “which o’ ye is hit ’as ’is ’nitials j. s.?”
“why—er—ah—why those are my initials,” stuttered the amazed jack straw, “but—but—how did you come to know them?”
“o-ho-ho-ho, mister innercent, ’ow did i[125] come t’ know? why i got yer watch as you so kindly left hin my traps, i did.”
“my watch?—in your traps?” exclaimed jack.
“i says a ’ow i found hit in my traps, ye pirut. yes.”
“why—why—but how did it get there? it wasn’t my watch you found. i’m sure of it.”
“o-ho-ho-ho, hit wasn’t ’is watch. o-ho-ho, blow me ef ’e ain’t tryin’ t’ joke me. looke ’er, young feller, you jest says a ’ow yer ’nitials is j. s. an’ bein’s i found ’e a-’aulin’ o’ my lobster traps hit ain’t no doubt as you’r t’ guilty party, ’specially as ’ow i found t’ watch hin my trap. oh, i figgered hit hall hout. you ’ad t’ trap hup on t’ side o’ t’ dory an’ arter you ’ad got finished a-pinchin’ t’ lobsters as belongs t’ me overboard you shoves t’ trap wi’ t’ chain o’ yer watch caught hin t’ net. hout slips yer watch an’ you bein’ hexcited an’ hin a ’urry never misses hit till you gets ’ome. then you sez, ‘where about ’ave i left my watch?’ an’ you don’t know, see?”
“why, that’s all wrong,” said jack. “i never stole any of your lobsters and besides my watch hasn’t disappeared.”
[126]
“looke ’ere, you young pirut, hif this ain’t your watch then show me your watch.” the old lobsterman held up a big silver timepiece attached to a silver chain.
“pshaw, no; mine’s gold,” said jack, feeling in his watch pocket. then suddenly the expression on the lad’s face changed. “why—why—it’s gone; where on earth—what has happened to my watch?”
“o-ho-ho. e-he-he, what’s ’appened to ’is watch. t’ blomin’ pirut. why ’ere hit his, lad; ’ere hit his.”
“no, no. i know where it is. i loaned it to captain eli and—”
“o-ho-ho, a likely story, but just t’ same i’m goin’ t’ tike ’e both t’ th’ warden at haustin’s pool. ’e’ll tike care o’ ye. come, ’op haboard t’ betsy hanne. lively now ’er i’ll blow yer bloomin’ ’eads hoff, blime me hif i don’t.”
