CHAPTER V--WHEREIN TOM BUYS LOBSTERS AND DAN DISAPPROVES
Perhaps it was because Tom had slept undisturbedly through Nelson'sprowling that he was the first to awake the next morning. When he openedhis eyes the early sunlight was streaming through the ports, and fromthe other side of the planking came the gentle swish of the lappingwaves. Tom stuck one foot outside the covers tentatively, then drew itquickly back again; the air outside, since most of the ports had beenleft open all night, was decidedly chill. But the sunlight and thebreeze and the lapping water called loudly, and pretty soon Tom was outon the floor, scurrying around for his clothes. Now and then the othersstirred uneasily, but none awoke. Washed, and dressed in the white ducktrousers and jumpers with which the four had provided themselves, Tomglanced at the clock, pushed back the hatch, and opened the doors to thecockpit. It was only a little after half-past six, and the cove andharbor were deserted. From the houses on the Neck thin streamers of bluesmoke were twisting upward from the kitchen chimneys, and from theHarborside House, where they had eaten dinner the night before, came thecheerful sound of rattling tins and the thud of cleaver on block.
That reminded Tom that, as usual, he was hungry. But there was no use inthinking about breakfast yet. He sat down on the cockpit seat--whichproved on close acquaintance to be soaking wet with the dew--and lookedabout him. The sound of oars creaking in rowlocks drew his attention,and he looked across the quiet cove. From around the point came a man ina pea-green dory, rowing with the short, jerky strokes of the fisherman.Tom watched him. Presently he stopped rowing, dropped his oars, andreached over the side of the dory. When he straightened up he had a linein his hand, and now he got on his feet and began pulling it in. Tomwondered what was on the other end, and when the end appeared was morepuzzled than ever. For what the man in the dory hauled into the boatlooked for all the world like a hencoop, and Tom didn't see why the mankept his hens under water, although he remembered having read somewhereof Mother Carey's Chickens, which, in some way beyond his understanding,were connected with salt water.
The man drew something out of the hencoop and threw it back into thecove. It flashed in the sunlight as it fell, and Tom wondered if it wasan egg. Something else was taken out and thrown into the dory. Then,presently, the hencoop was lifted over the side again and sank out ofsight. The man took up his oars and started toward the _Vagabond_, buthe hadn't gone far when he again ceased rowing and prepared to produceanother hen-coop from the vasty deep. That was too much for Tom. Heseized the oars, drew the tender alongside, and tumbled in. Then heheaded for the dory. When he drew near the second hencoop was cominginto sight. Tom leaned on his oars and opened conversation.
"Good morning," he said. The man in the dory looked up and nodded.
"Mornin'," he answered.
Then the hencoop was pulled over the side of the dory and rested acrossit, and Tom saw that instead of chickens it contained fish. It wasfashioned of laths, was rounding on top, and at one end a funnel ofnetting took the place of the laths.
"What do you call that?" asked Tom.
"This? That's a lobster pot. Never see one before?"
Tom shook his head.
"No, I don't think so. I thought it was a hencoop."
The lobsterman chuckled as he undid the door of the trap and thrust inhis arm. Out came a handful of small fish, which were thrown into a pailin the dory. Then one or two larger fish were tossed overboard, and lastof all a fine big greenish-black lobster was produced. Tom paddlednearer and saw that a box in the dory was already half full of lobsterswhich were shuffling their claws about and blinking their protrudingeyes. Another pail held fish for bait, and after the pot was cleared outnew bait was placed in it and it was once more let down at the end of arope. Tom now saw that the surface end of the rope was attached to awhite wooden float.
"Not much there, was there?" said the fisherman as he took up his oars."You come over to the next one and I'll show you some lobsters."
So Tom rowed after him a hundred yards or so and awaited with interestthe appearance of the next pot. The prediction proved true, for when thepot came to the surface it looked to be swarming with lobsters. To Tom'ssurprise, the first two or three that were taken out were tossed backinto the water.
"Aren't those any good?" he questioned.
"Best eatin' there is," was the reply, "but they're 'shorts.'"
"What are 'shorts,' please?"
"Young 'uns under ten inches long. Law don't allow us to keep 'em."
There were a good many shorts in the trap, but there were also fourgood-sized lobsters, and the lobsterman seemed well pleased.
"Do you sell them?" asked Tom. The man glanced across at him shrewdly.
"'Shorts,' do you mean?"
"Oh, no; the others."
"Yes; want to buy some?"
"If you could let me have a couple, I'd like it."
The man held out two medium-sized ones.
"Fifty cents," he said.
"All right." Tom dived into his pocket, brought up the money and pulledup to the dory, where the exchange was made.
"Guess you never see no hens like them afore," chuckled the lobstermanas he rowed away. "An', say, don't pet 'em much; they might peck yer!"
The lobsters were in the bottom of the tender, and as he rowed back tothe launch Tom was careful to keep his feet out of their reach. When hehad made fast and carefully lifted the lobsters on board, he put hishead into the engine room and listened. Not a sound reached him save thepeaceful breathing of his companions. That appeared to put an idea intoTom's head. With a malicious smile, he tiptoed across to the lobsters,took one gingerly in each hand, and descended to the stateroom. There heplaced the lobsters in the middle of the space between the berths, wherethey would each show to the best advantage, kicked off his sneakers,carefully closed the hatch and the doors, and finally crept back to bed.Once under the covers, he threw his arms out and yawned loudly. That nothaving the desired effect, he called sleepily to Dan:
"Time to get up, Dan! It's most half-past seven! _Da-a-an!_"
"Huh?"
"Time to get up, you lazy chump!"
"Wha-what time is it?" asked Dan fretfully.
"Oh, it's late; most half-past seven," answered Tom.
"Is it?" There was quiet for a moment. Then Dan sat up resolutely,stared drowsily about him and tumbled out of bed. As luck would have it,one bare foot landed plump on the cold, slippery back of the nearestlobster. The lobster rolled over, and so did Dan. There was a shriek,and Dan, staring in horrified dismay at the cause of his upset, tried toretreat into Bob's berth.
That annoyed Bob, who, half awake, struck out at the invader and againsent him sprawling. This time it was the other lobster that Dan cameinto contact with, and both went rolling up against the locker underNelson's berth. But it didn't take Dan long to pick himself up, and onceon his feet he made haste to get off them by sinking into Nelson's armsand waving them wildly in air.
By that time the stateroom rang with laughter and Barry's barking. Dancurled his feet up under him and, after making certain that neither ofthe lobsters had attached themselves to him, joined his laughter withthe rest. On the floor the lobsters, justly indignant, or, as Tomremarked, "a bit peeved," were waving their claws and trying to get backon their feet again. At last Nelson stopped laughing and turned apuzzled countenance to Bob.
"Where'd they come from?" he asked.
"Eh?" asked Bob.
"By Jove!" cried Dan.
Tom only stared his bewilderment.
Nelson looked suspiciously at the others, but Dan and Bob were each inpyjamas, and so, of course, must be Tommy, although the covers stillreached to just below his wondering countenance.
"They must have come aboard last night," said Dan.
"But the doors are closed," said Bob.
"Through the ports, then?"
"Poppycock!" said Nelson. "Lobsters can't climb. Some one must----"
"Maybe there was a high tide last night," suggested Tom.
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"What's that got to do with it, I'd like to know?" Bob demanded.
"Why, maybe the water came up to the port lights and the lobsters wereswimming on the surface, and they saw Dan and mistook him for along-lost brother----"
"Tommy, if you call me a lobster, I'll hammer you! Look at the ugly,crawly things! Ugh! Some one throw 'em overboard!"
"Some smart chump must have opened the door and tossed them in here lastnight," said Nelson thoughtfully. "Or maybe this morning."
"More likely this morning," said Bob. "And probably the person, whoeverhe was, dropped them in through the ports."
"That's so," said Tom, a trifle too eagerly. "Bet you that's just whathappened!"
Bob looked at him in dawning suspicion.
"Think that's the way of it, do you, Tommy?" he asked. Tom nodded, butdidn't seem to care to look at the questioner.
"Maybe a fisherman was going by," he elaborated, "and saw us all asleepin here, and thought it would be a good joke----"
"Is that so?" cried Bob, leaning over and jerking the bedclothes fromTom. "You're a very smart little boy, aren't you?"
Dan made a leap and landed astride the culprit.
"You did it, you grinning idiot!" he cried, shaking Tom back and forth.
"Honest, Du-du-du-dan!" gurgled Tom. "I--I----"
"Honest, you what?" demanded Dan, letting up for an instant.
"Did!" squealed Tom. Then chaos reigned and blankets waved as Dan andTom rolled about the narrow berth. "You'd bu-bu-bu-better lemme up!"panted Tom, "or I won't cu-cu-cook you any bu-bu-bu-bu-bu-breakfast!"
"Apologize?" asked Dan.
But at that moment a terrific yelping drowned the question. Barry hadleft the foot of Bob's berth and proceeded to investigate the visitorson the floor. The natural thing had happened, and Barry was jumpingabout with a pound and a half of lobster attached to one of his frontpaws. Hostilities between Dan and Tom were forgotten and everyone rushedto Barry's rescue. It was Nelson who finally released the dog and tossedthe two troublesome guests up into the cockpit. Barry's paw was badlypinched, but not seriously damaged, and after he had licked it for fiveminutes steadily he was apparently willing to call the episode closed.
"What did you bring those things in here for," demanded Nelson, "andwhere did you get them?"
Tom explained the manner of acquiring the prizes, and said that he wasgoing to cook them.
"Cook them!" shrieked Dan. "Why, they aren't fit to cook; they're greenas grass! They're probably spoiled!"
This feezed Tom until Bob explained that live lobsters were always moreor less green, and that it was boiling them that made them red. But Danremained antagonistic to the plan of eating them.
"I wouldn't touch one of them for a hundred dollars," he declared. "Idon't believe they're lobsters at all."
Tom was hurt.
"They are, tu-tu-too!" he asserted indignantly. "I gu-gu-got 'em from alobster fisher, and saw him pu-pu-pu-pull 'em up."
"Oh, you get out! Who's going to believe you, Tommy? You run along andget breakfast."
"That's so," said Nelson. "You're in disgrace, Tommy, and you'll have tocook us something pretty nice if you expect to be forgiven."
"Something nice!" growled Tom. "What do you expect? Spanish omelet andsirloin steak?"
"I don't care what we have," replied Dan, "but I want mine fried on bothsides."
"Me too," added Nelson.
Tom left them to their dressing and took himself off to the corner ofthe engine room where the stove and sink and ice box were located, andwhich he had nautically dubbed the galley. Here he busied himself,chuckling now and then over the lobster episode, until Barry's franticbarking took him to the door. He looked out and then called to theothers. The lobsters, quite still now, as though wearied by their recentexperiences, were lying side by side near the after locker. In front ofthem, a safe two feet away, stood Barry. His tail--there was only a baretwo inches of it--wagged violently, the hair stood up along the middle ofhis back and neck, and he was daring the lobsters to mortal combat.Finding himself reinforced by the quartet of laughing boys at the door,he grew very brave and began a series of wild dashes at the enemy,barking hysterically.
"Anybody want to eat them?" asked Bob finally.
Nobody seemed enthusiastic, and Bob heaved them over the side. "Theregoes your fifty cents, Tommy," he said. Tom glanced at Dan and grinned.
"It was worth it," he said.
After a breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee the four wenton deck, feeling ready for anything. Nelson and Tom found seats on theedge of the cabin roof, Dan and Bob sat on the after seat, and thesubject of destination was discussed. Bob advanced the merits of theMaine coast as a cruising ground, Dan was in favor of heading southtoward New York and Long Island Sound, Tom was for staying where theywere, and Nelson remained neutral. Thus matters stood when a launch ofabout the size of the _Vagabond_ chugged around the point and picked upmoorings some fifty feet distant. The discussion died away and the boyswatched the new arrival with interest. Her name was the _Amy_, and shewas very similar to the _Vagabond_ in build, save that her cabin wasmuch longer and her whole length perhaps two feet greater. She flew theflag of the Knickerbocker Yacht Club of New York, and trailed a tenderbehind her. She had a crew of five men, and as the tender was drawnalongside one of the number called across.
"Hello, there!" he called. "Are you entered for the race?"
"No," answered Nelson. "What race do you mean?"
"To-morrow's. Marblehead to College Point. Saw you had a tender along,and thought maybe you were in it."
"No; are you?" replied Nelson.
"Yes." They seemed to lose interest in the _Vagabond_ after that, andpiled into their tender and rowed across to the hotel landing.
"Going for breakfast, I guess," mused Bob. "What race are they talkingabout, Nel?"
"I don't know for sure, but seems to me I read something in the paperabout a race for cruising launches from Marblehead to New York."
"College Point, he said," observed Tom.
"That's near New York, on the Sound," said Dan. "Let's go into it!"
"We couldn't now," said Nelson. "It's probably too late. Besides, itwouldn't do for us to try it; it would be pretty risky."
"I don't see why," spoke up Tom eagerly. "That boat isn't any biggerthan the _Vagabond_; at least, not much!"
"Hello!" said Bob. "Tommy must have got over his nervousness!"
"I tell you what we might do," said Nelson. "We might go over and seethe start. That would be fun, wouldn't it?"
"Let's do it!" cried Dan. "Then we can decide meanwhile where we'regoing."
The idea suited all hands, and it was agreed that they should spend theforenoon in cleaning up and run over to the scene of the race afterluncheon. "And," said Dan, "let's find out about the race. It ought tobe in the morning paper. If one of you fellows will put me ashore, I'llgo and buy one."
So Bob rowed him to the landing, and when he returned the three got outthe mops and metal polish and rags and set to work cleaning up thewoodwork and polishing the brass. They hadn't nearly finished by thetime Dan hailed from the landing. Tom brought him aboard. He had found apaper and was full of the race. All hands stopped work while he read theaccount of it.
The race was a handicap affair for cruising launches, and there weretwelve entries. The start was to be made the next afternoon, at sixo'clock, from Marblehead, and the boats were to race to College Point,N.Y., a distance of about three hundred miles.
"But if it isn't until to-morrow at six," asked Tom, "what's the use ofgoing over there this afternoon?"
"That's so," said Bob. "We might as well wait until to-morrow morning."
"But what shall we do this afternoon? Run up to Portland and back?"asked Nelson laughingly.
"Let's cruise around here," said Bob. "And you can show me how to runthe engine. Some one ought to know, Nel, in case anything happened toyou."
"All right. We'll finish cleaning up, and then tak
e a run around theharbor if there's time before lunch. If there isn't, we'll goafterwards. How's that?"
All were agreeable and the work went on again. Nelson got into thetender and, armed with a hand mop and a canvas bucket of fresh water,cleaned the white paint-work of the hull. Tom scrubbed the deck, cockpitfloor, and cabin roof, Dan cleaned up below, and Bob shined thebright-work. But, try as they might, there was no such thing asfinishing before noon. And so they had an early lunch, and very hungryfor it they were, too, and then weighed anchor and headed for the innerharbor on a sight-seeing cruise. They _chugged_ in and out of theshipping, read the names on the dozens of fishing schooners which linedthe wharves, and finally raced a tugboat out to the breakwater, winningeasily.
There the wheel was given to Dan, and Nelson took Bob below andinitiated him into the mysteries of the gas engine. Nelson started atthe gasoline tank, and traced the flow of the fuel until it had passedthrough the cylinders and was discharged at the exhaust. Carburetor--or,in the present case, vaporizer--pump, oil cups, spark plug, and clutchwere duly explained, and then Nelson took up the ignition, starting atthe battery and following the wires to the engine. Finally, the motorwas stopped, the gasoline shut off, and Bob was allowed to start thingsup again. Of course, he didn't succeed the first time, nor the second,but in the end he did, and was as pleased as could be. For the rest ofthe afternoon he stayed in the engine room--while Dan and Tom had abeautiful time on deck running the boat to suit themselves--and by thetime they reached their anchorage again Bob had qualified, to his ownsatisfaction at least, as a gas engineer.
"It's simple enough when you understand it, isn't it?" he askedearnestly.
"Yes," laughed Nelson; "there's nothing to it at all--until the enginestops and you can't find out why!"
They had dinner at the Harborside again, and in the evening wrote hometo their folks on the lovely stationery with the crossed flags. And athalf-past nine, everyone having personally assisted at the lighting ofthe riding light, they turned in and slept like logs until morning.