CHAPTER VIII.
A RESCUE, AND A GRAND GOOD TIME.
Dab Kinzer and his friend were prompt enough coming to the rescue oftheir unfortunate fellow-lubber; but to get him out of the queer wreckhe had made of that punt looked like a tough task to both of them, andthey said as much.
"I isn't drownin'," exclaimed Dick heroically, as the other boat waspulled alongside of him. "Jest you take your scoop-net, and save demcrabs."
"They won't drown," said Ford.
"But they'll get away," said Dab, as he snatched up the scoop. "Dick'shead is perfectly level on that point."
The side-boards of the old punt were under water half the time, but thecrabs were pretty well penned in. Even a couple of them, that hadmistaken Dick's wool for another sheep's-head, were secured withoutdifficulty, in spite of the firmness with which they clung to theirprize.
"What luck he'd been having!" said Ford.
"He always does," said Dab. "I say, Dick, how'll I scoop you in?"
"Has you done got all de crabs?"
"Every pinner of 'em."
"Den you jest wait a minute."
Waiting was all that was left them to do, for the shining black face andwoolly head disappeared almost instantly.
"He's sunk," exclaimed Ford.
"There he comes," replied Dab: "he'd swum ashore from here, and not halftry. Why, I could swim twice as far as that myself, and he can beat me."
"Could you? I couldn't."
That was the first time Dab had heard his city acquaintance make aconfession of inability, and he could see a more than usually thoughtfulexpression on his face. The coolness and skill of Dick Lee, in his hourof disaster, had not been thrown away upon him.
"If I had my clothes off," said Ford, "I believe I'd try that on."
"Dab Kinzer, you's de bes' feller dar is. But wot'll we do wid de oldboat?" burst out Dick, on coming to the surface.
"Let the tide carry her in while we're crabbing. She isn't worthmending, but we'll tow her home."
"All right," said Dick, as he grasped the gunwale of Dab's boat, andbegan to climb over.
"Hold on, Dick."
"I is a-holdin' on."
"I mean, wait a bit. Ain't you wet?"
"Of course I's wet."
"Well, then, you stay in there till you get dry It's well you didn'thave your new clothes on."
"Ain't I glad 'bout dem!" enthusiastically ex-claimed the young African."Nebber mind dese clo'es. De water on 'em's all good, dry water, like deres' ob de bay."
And, so saying, Dick tumbled over in, with a spatter which made FordFoster tread on two of three crabs in getting away from it. It was notthe first time, by many, that Dick Lee had found himself bathing in thatbay without any time given him to undress.
And now it was discovered that the shipwrecked crabber had never for oneinstant lost his hold of the line, to the other end of which wasfastened his precious sheep's-head.
They made a regular crabbing crew now,--two to pull up, and one to scoopin; and never had the sprawling game been more plentiful on thatpasture, or more apparently in a greedy hurry to be captured.
"What on earth shall we do with them all?" asked Ford.
"Soon's we've got enough for a mess for both our folks," said Dab,"we'll quit this, and go for some fish. The clams are good bait, and wecan try some of your tackle."
Ford's face brightened a good deal at that suggestion, for he had morethan once cast a crest fallen look at his pretentious box. But hereplied,--
"A mess! How many crabs can one man eat?"
"I don't know," said Dab. "It depends a good deal on who he is. Then, ifhe eats the shells, he can't take in so many."
"Eat de shells? Yah, yah, yah! Dat beats my mudder! She's allersa-sayin' wot a waste de shells make," laughed Dick. "I jest wish wemight ketch some fish. I dasn't kerry home no crabs."
"It does look as if we'd got as many as we'll know what to do with,"remarked Dab, as he looked down on the sprawling multitude in the bottomof the boat. "We'll turn the clams out of the basket, and fill that; butwe mustn't put any crabs in the fish-car. We'll stow 'em all forward."
The basket held more than half a bushel, but there was still a "heap" ofwhat Ford Foster called "the crusties" to pen up in the bow of the boat.
That duty attended to, the grapnel was pulled up, and Dick was set atthe oars, while Dab selected from Ford's box just the hooks and linestheir owner had made least account of.
"What'll we catch, Dab?"
"'Most anything. Nobody knows till he's done it. Perch, porgies,cunners, black-fish, weak-fish, maybe a bass or a sheep's-head, but morecunners than any thing else, unless we strike some flounders at the turnof the tide."
"That's a big enough assortment to set up a fish-market on."
"If we catch 'em. We've got a good enough day, anyhow, and the tide'llbe about right by the time we get to work."
"Why not try here?"
"'Cause there's no fish to speak of, and because the crabs'll clean yourhook for you as fast as you can put the bait on. We must go out todeeper water and better bottom. Dick knows just where to go. You mighthang your line out all day and not get a bite, if you didn't strike theright spot."
Ford made no answer, but looked on very seriously while Dab skilfullyslit up a tough old Dutch clam into bait. It was beginning to dawn uponhim that he could teach the "'long-shore boys," whether black or white,very little about fishing. He even allowed Dab to pick out a line forhim, and to put on the hook and sinker; and Dick Lee showed him how tofix his bait, "so de fust cunner dat rubs agin it won't knock it off.Dem's awful mean fish. Good for nuffin but 'teal bait."
A merry party they were; and the salt water was rapidly drying from thegarments of the colored oars-man, as he pulled strongly and skilfullyout into the bay, and around toward a deep cove at the north of theinlet mouth.
Then, indeed, for the first time in his life, Ford Foster learned whatit was to catch fish.
Not but what he had spent many an hour, and even day, on and about otherwaters, with a rod or a line in his hand; but he had never before hadtwo such born fishermen at his elbow to take him to the right placeprecisely, and at the right time, and then to show him what to do whenhe got there.
It was fun enough; for the fish bit remarkably well, and some of thosewhich came into the boat were of a very encouraging size and weight.
There was one curious thing about those heavier fish.
Ford would have given half the hooks and lines in his box, if he couldhave caught from Dick or Dab the mysterious "knack" they seemed to haveof coaxing the biggest of the finny folk to their bait, and then overthe side of the boat.
"There's some kind of favoritism about it," he remarked.
"Never mind, Ford," replied Dab. "Dick and I are better acquainted withthem. They're always a little shy with strangers, at first. They don'treally mean to be impolite."
Favoritism it was, nevertheless; and there was now no danger but whatDick would be able to appease the mind of his mother without making anymention of the crabs.
At last, almost suddenly, and as if by common consent, the fish stoppedbiting, and the two "'long shore boys" began to put away their lines.
"Going to quit?" asked Ford.
"Time's up, and the tide's turned," replied Dab.
"Not another bite, most likely, till late this evening. We might as wellpull up, and start for home."
"That's a curious kind of a habit for fish to have."
"They've all got it though, 'round this bay."
"Mus' look out for wot's lef' ob de ole scow, on de way home," remarkedDick a little solemnly. "I's boun' to ketch it for dat good-for-notingole board."
"We'll find it, and tow it in," said Dab; "and perhaps we can get itmended. Anyhow, you can go with us next week. We're going to make acruise in Ham Morris's yacht. Will you go?"
"Will I go? Yoop!" almost yelled the excited boy. "Dat's jest de onet'ing I'd like to jine. Won't we hab fun! She's jest de bes' boat on di
shull bay. You ain't foolin' me, is yer?"
He was strongly assured that his young white associates were in soberearnest about both their purpose and their promise; and, after that, heinsisted on rowing all the distance home.
On the way the old punt was taken in tow; but the tide had already sweptit so far inside the mouth of the inlet, that there was less trouble inpulling it the rest of the way. It was hardly worth the labor, but Dabknew what a tempest the loss of it might bring around the ears of poorDick.
When they reached the landing, and began to over-haul their verybrilliant "catch," Dabney said,--
"Now, Dick, take your string home, leave that basket of crabs at Mr.Foster's, and then come back with the basket, and carry the rest of 'emto our house. Ford and I'll see to the rest of the fish."
"I haven't caught half as many as you have, either of you," said Ford,when he saw with what even-handed justice the fish were divided in threepiles, as they were scooped out of the fish-car.
"What of that?" replied Dab. "We follow fishermen's rules, down thisway. Share and share alike, you know. All the luck is outside the boat,they say. Once the fish are landed, your luck's as good as mine."
"Do they always follow that rule?"
"The man that broke it wouldn't find company very easily, hereabouts,next time he wanted to go a-fishing. No, nor for any thing else.Nobody'd boat with him."
"Well, if it's the regular thing," said Ford hesitatingly. "But I'lltell who really caught 'em."
"Oh, some of yours are right good ones! Your string'd look big enough,some days, just as you caught 'em."
"Would it?"
"Yes, it would. Don't you imagine we can pull 'em in every time like wedid this morning,--crabs nor fish."
"No, I s'pose not. Anyhow, I've learned some things."
"I guess likely. We'll go for some more next week. Now for a tug."
"Ain't they heavy, though!"
The boat had already been made fast; and the two boys picked up theirstrings of fish, two for each, after Dick Lee had started for home; andheavy things they were to carry under that hot sun.
"Come and show the whole lot to my mother," said Ford, "before you takeyours into the house. I'd like to have her see them all."
"All right," replied Dab, but he little dreamed what was coming; for,when he and Ford marched proudly into the sitting-room with their finnyprizes, Dabney found himself face to face with, not good, sweet-voicedMrs. Foster, but, as he thought, the most beautiful young lady he hadever seen.
Ford Foster shouted, "Annie! You here? Well, I never!"
But Dab Kinzer wished all those fish safely back again swimming in thebay.
Dab Kinzer: A Story of a Growing Boy Page 8
