the two men worked steadily and cheerily over the fish, sorting and dressing and packing them in salt, only leaving off long enough to eat some bread and cheese with dry salt codfish.
"come, boys, dinner's ready. step up and help yourselves," said the captain, with his mouth full of bread and cheese, which he had made into a sandwich for convenience and speed.
"we don't feel hungry," answered ben, looking out from the blanket long enough to see that the captain was complacently munching his food as he sat astride of the board on which he had been dressing the fish.
"don't feel hungry! that's queer. i do, now. this salt air ought to make you eat like a shark," exclaimed the captain, as he set his teeth through an enormous piece of dried cod. "i'm hungry enough to eat those mackerel raw, if there was nothing else handy."
"oh, don't!" groaned ralph, crawling further under the blanket, and feeling his stomach rise up and roll over uneasily.
all the afternoon the fishermen worked over their "catch," and the boys did not venture out from their retreat until a great splashing of water told them that marcus was washing the deck. then they began to look around and breathe in the sea air, that seemed to bring a revival of spirits to the boys.
before supper-time another school of mackerel came by, and the lines were again thrown out, and lively work recommenced.
the two boys watched the sport as the men tended their lines so dexterously, going from one to another, and keeping a fish in the air continually, as ben said.
this was exciting enough to make even ralph forget his sea-sickness for the time; but when the "school" had passed, the work of dressing mackerel began again, and this was not at all soothing to disturbed stomachs.
"let's go to bed, and get out of this, ben," exclaimed ralph in disgust.
"all right."
they tiptoed by the pile of fish that were still flapping feebly, and looked down into the cabin. it was not an inviting place, and ralph hesitated.
"going to turn in, boys?" asked the captain, thrusting his knife into a fish before he looked up.
"yes, we thought of it."
"without any supper? that will never do. help yourselves in there. the biscuit-barrel's in the corner, and the codfish hangs right over it. eat a good meal, and you'll feel better. there ain't nothin' equal to dry codfish for turning sea-sickness."
"thanks; but we don't feel hungry," said ben.
"that's queer. it beats me how anybody can be out to sea and not feel hungry! well, a night's rest will make you better, like as not. you'll sleep like a couple of tops; that is, if you've got good clean consciences afore god."
the boys made no reply.
"i hope you have. it's bad work being out to sea, or anywhere else, for that matter, with anything lying heavy on your conscience. now, i don't pretend to be any guide for any one. i'm bad enough myself; but i always says every night, 'just look me over, lord, and if there is any bad in me'--and of course i know there is plenty of it--'forgive it, and help me to start better to-morrow.' it's mighty comfortin' for me to know that he sees that i mean fairer than i do."
after these remarks the captain finished dressing the fish he held on the board, and the boys disappeared down the short flight of steps leading into the cabin.
it was a close place there, and filled with odours of fish; in fact the whole vessel seemed to be stuccoed with fish-scales.
"are we first or second cabin passengers, ralph?" asked ben laughingly, "or are we steerage?"
"steerage, sure enough!"
"well, it isn't the worst place that ever was. i'd rather be here than outside there in the sea, with a shark after me," continued ben, who was far more inclined than ralph to be jolly under difficulties.
"bad as it is, i'd rather be here than on the island camping out, with joe chester left behind," said ralph.
"yes, of course you would. if i had my fiddle here i'd cheer you up; that is, if i didn't feel kind of gone about my own stomach." and ben sat down suddenly on the captain's green chest in the corner, looking very pale.
it was ralph's turn now to wait upon him, and putting his head out of the door he shouted, "captain, where shall we sleep?"
"oh, anywhere you've a mind to. take the bunks if you want to. marcus and i'll look out for ourselves."
ralph looked sharply at the rough bed, and said, "it isn't a royal couch, but tumble in, ben." ben was too sick to care where he went, and letting ralph pull off his boots and coat, he literally tumbled in, as requested.
whether it was a lack of good consciences that the old captain had spoken of, or the strangeness of their situation, or the awful sea-sickness, the boys could not sleep. they lay and tossed in their close berths, listening to the "thud" and "swish" of the waves against the sides of the little vessel, and the creak of the yards, as the canvas swung around in the wind.
it was a bright moonlight night, and the fishing was good, so the noise on deck continued nearly all night, making it still more impossible for the boys to sleep, until, their labours being over, marcus came below for a nap. rolling himself in a blanket, he dropped down in the corner of the cabin, and in less than five minutes he was snoring loud enough to drown the creak of the sails.
ralph and ben slept at last, and were only aroused in the morning by the captain's voice as he hailed another fishing-vessel. marcus was preparing breakfast, and the odour of the coffee came into the cabin to tempt the boys.
"that smells good," cried ben, throwing off his blanket. "let's get out of this pen, ralph, as quick as ever we can. i believe i'm hungry."
"good!" said the captain, looking down into the little cabin, having overheard the exclamation. "how fare ye this morning?"
the boys answered as cheerily as they could, and hastening up on deck, they washed their faces and hands in sea water, and were ready for breakfast.
the deck was scrubbed clean, and the sea air was pure and sweet. even ralph felt hungry, and the fried mackerel, with biscuits and coffee, tasted very good. the fishing was dull that day; no schools of mackerel were to be seen, and the men busied themselves with trolling for cod and hake, or anything that would bite; and before night a long row of fish was spread out on the top of the cabin to dry, much to the boys' disgust. the second night was passed much like the first, in trying to become accustomed to their close quarters; and the third was much like the second. the only excitement was in running down schools of fish; but as this was always followed by the disagreeable work of dressing them, the dainty passengers were earnestly hoping they might not see any more.
"how long before you go ashore, captain?" asked ben, as he walked the deck uneasily.
"oh, when i get my load."
"but what do you call a load?"
"now, that's a question i never could answer. i never saw the time i couldn't get on one more haul of fish. a smack is like an omnibus--it always has room for one more," said the captain laughing.
"you are pretty full now."
"bless you, no! this isn't a trifle to what we ought to do. mighty poor fishing this trip. reckon i've got a jonah aboard."
"a couple of them, perhaps," answered ben, with a wink at ralph.
"the fog is coming on," continued the captain, looking off seaward. "we shan't be able to see our hands afore our faces to-night, like as not."
"what do you do in a fog?" asked ralph eagerly.
"do? why, we make the best of it, boy. what do you suppose?"
"i thought, perhaps, you went ashore, or anchored somewhere," said ralph hesitatingly.
"oh, you did? the fog lasts two or three weeks sometimes. no; we go ahead, and catch every fish we can."
"aren't you afraid some other vessel will run you down?"
"it would be about as bad for her as it would for us," answered the captain, puffing the smoke from his pipe contentedly. "i'd rather have it pleasant; but we don't have the ordering of the weather, and i've fallen into the way of making the best of things--weather and everything else. if it's good weather, i'm glad; if it isn't, i don't fret. if the fish bite, i'm glad; if they don't, i just stay out the longer; and sooner or later i get a good load. it don't do no good to be frettin' and fussin'."
the captain's words did not cheer the boys. they felt far from contented at the prospect of a fog at sea; and when it came rolling in and closing down around them, hiding not only the strip of shore in the distance, but also the island and the other vessels that were near them, they wished themselves on shore more earnestly than ever.
"we didn't bargain for this," said ben, making a wry face at his companion.
"no, nor for anything else we have had. i'd rather be in the rocky mountains," grumbled ralph.
"so had i, or on the top of the north pole, provided it is planted in solid ground instead of water," was ben's laughing reply.
"i'm in earnest. i hate the sea. i'm afraid of it just as soon as it begins to be rough. i don't see what possessed us to come to sea," continued ralph, peering uneasily through the fog.
"we couldn't help it, if i recollect right," said ben. "there wasn't any place to run to on land, so we took to the water like musk-rats. but we are all right. captain dare knows everything about vessels and fogs. i am not going to worry myself about it at any rate, unless a big storm comes; then i suppose i would be scared enough."
