# Silver Shoal Light/Chapter 7

CHAPTER VII
PUT IN THE BRIG
THE wind had hauled suddenly and the fog was rapidly lifting as Pemberley came out to where they sat, a pair of oars over his shoulder.
"Who wants to row in for the mail and some provisions?" he asked.
"I do!" said Garth, seizing his father's hand.
"You must come, too, Miss Kirkland," said Jim. "We're all going, and a monster might come up out of the sea and eat you, if you stayed here!"
"Indeed it might!" said Joan. "I've never seen such a ghostly place as the fog made of this."
They joined Elspeth on the pier, where Jim gave a few parting directions to Caleb. The lighthouse boat easily held the four, and Jim and Elspeth rowed, while Garth steered.
"Sing, Fogger!" he commanded, when they were well out from the landing.
"Fogger's an appropriate name for me just ​now," said Jim, shaking his damp hair; "I've been feeling rather like a fogger. How do you expect me to row and sing?"
"You always do," said Garth. "Sing the one about 'It's westward, ho, for Trinidad, and eastward, ho, for Spain!' and 'Round the world if need be, and round the world again, with a lame duck a-lagging all the way.' That's rather like me," he added suddenly, "only it meant a ship, of course. She was always so far behind the rest of the fleet!"
"But she didn't give up!" said Jim. "She came in with the best of 'em, in the end."
"Yes," said Garth thoughtfully. "Please sing, Fogger."
So Pemberley settled to his stroke and sang in a fine deep voice.
"Sing the Barbary one, Jim," Elspeth suggested, when he had finished.
Garth bounced joyously in the stern-sheets.
"Oh, do!" he cried.
"Very well," agreed his father. "But please remember that you're supposed to be steering this boat. We went two points off our course then."
Garth gave heed to the yoke-lines, and Jim struck up:
Look ahead, look astarn, look the weather an' the lee— Blow high, blow low, and so sailed we— I see a wreck to windward, an' a lofty ship to lee; A-sailing down all on the coasts of High Barbary.
And when he reached, "With cutlass and with gun, oh, we fought for hours three," Garth shivered with anticipation.
The ship it was their coffin, and their grave it was the sea,— A-sailing down all on the coasts of High Bar-bar-y.
Jim's voice boomed out through an air quiet and golden after the fog. Joan wished for more songs, but there was seemly silence in the lighthouse boat as it slid up alongside the landing at Quimpaug.
"Though Regulations say nothing against it," said Jim, "the inhabitants might report me for undignified conduct."
The wharf was deserted, with the exception of a lean gray cat nosing hopefully at a lobster-pot.
"This place goes absolutely dead as soon as the Pettasantuck leaves," Jim commented, as he made the boat fast at the slippery steps. "Who's coming ashore?"
"I am," said Elspeth. "I want to pick out ​some food, myself. You do get such queer things, Jim."
"I am," said Joan; "that is, if I can get a pair of sneakers in this town."
"I am," concluded Jim, "because I must go to the post-office in person. Garth, you'd better stay here. Sit exactly where you are and you'll be all right, if you don't try any manoeuvers. We'll all be back in fifteen minutes. You're on your honor," he added from the head of the steps.
Joan bought the sneakers and also a new duck hat. Returning, she met Elspeth halfway down the hill, and Jim caught up with them before they reached the foot of it. As they walked down the pier, they perceived Garth leaning over a pile-head and intently watching the unloading of a fishing-smack.
Jim went to him in three strides and put his hand on his son's shoulder.
"How did you get here?" he asked.
"Up the steps," said Garth.
Jim glanced down at the slimy, green landing-stair and at the boat bobbing erratically beside it.
"Why?" he questioned.
"I wanted to see them unload the fish," ​Garth explained. "It looks so nice, just like a whole waterfall of moonlight, or something. I couldn't see from down there."
"Do you remember that I put you on your honor?" said Jim gravely. "Suppose that you had slipped; suppose the boat had backed away from the steps suddenly, the way she's doing now; suppose you'd caught your foot in the rope? How can I trust you, Pem?"
Garth sobbed miserably as his father carried him down and put him in the bow-sheets.
"I'll pass sentence when we get home," said Jim. "Will you steer, Miss Kirkland?"
Back at the Light, Jim summoned Garth, who stood before him with his lip quivering a little, but his eyes very steady.
"Pemberley," Jim said very seriously, "when an officer gives an order, what is a seaman expected to do?"
"Obey it, sir," said Garth.
"Yes," said Jim. "Think what would happen if an officer could not trust his men, if he never knew whether or not an order was to be carried out. Do you remember the little English midshipman who was ordered to the crow's nest as the ship went into action? When she sank, all hands took to the boats, but the middy ​had not received his orders to leave the post, and he went down with his ship. I put you on your honor this afternoon. Your orders were to stay in the boat; you were on duty. You broke your word, because you wanted to amuse yourself by watching the fishermen unload. What happens to seamen who disobey orders, Pemberley?"
"They're put in the b-brig, sir," said Garth.
"And I shall put you in the brig," Jim said. He looked at his watch. "It is an hour and a half until your bedtime," he pronounced. "Solitary confinement in the service-room till then. And bread and water for supper. 'Bout face! March!"
Garth saluted a little shakily.
"Very g-good, sir," he said.
Jim returned the salute briefly. His eyes followed Garth to the door.
"Pemberley!" he said. Garth stopped, his hand on the doorknob. "Shall I be able to trust you hereafter?"
"Yes, sir," Garth answered in a very low voice.
After the door had closed behind him, Jim opened it a tiny crack, looked in silently, and presently shut it again.
​"Crying?" asked Elspeth.
"Trying not to," said her husband. He turned to Joan. "Nautical discipline, Miss Kirkland, is the only kind we use here. And it is very efficacious."
"Poor little chap!" murmured Joan softly.
Jim looked out at the sunset and shook his head.
"We come of a long line of sea-faring men, Garth and I," he said dreamily and somewhat inconsequently.
A Letter from Elspeth Pemberly to Her Brother
Silver Shoal, June 19th.
Dearest Old Boy:
We all went clamming on the flats this morning and had a most joyful time. Of course it's not so much fun for Garth as though he could wade around on the nice sandy bottom, but Jim always perches him on his shoulder and spends half the time galloping and splashing about with him, instead of digging clams. We were all sopping, of course, before we got through, and wished, as usual, that we'd worn bathing-suits.
To our surprise, J. Kirkland paddled around and loved it and got any number of clams. She has suffered a true sea-change; she had been improving a little, to be sure, because she spent half a morning ​with her head in the sea-caverns and came back quite excited over purple starfish. But since the fog she has been a different person. It fogged tremendously yesterday afternoon for a while, and whether or not that was what did it, I don't know, but I saw no other visible cause! Garth dragged her out into the thickest of it, and when she came in there was a queer gentle look about her. She is still rather stiff with Garth, but she almost wept last night when Jim sent him to Coventry. He'd broken his word, and Jim put him in the service-room to ponder.
Quimpaug is quite excited. When we sailed in for the mail today, we found that a Russian Count—no less—had arrived and is staying with Schmidt the butcher, because the hotel is full. I don't know what his name really is, but Jim calls him Fishashki! He appears to be an artist, for he was sketching on the wharf when we came in, and stared at us over his paint-box. He is quite an interesting-looking personage; and of course Quimpaug thinks he's very romantic and runs to its windows to see him.
J. Kirkland is superintending Garth's supper. She offered to, so I slipped away to write to you. I can hear their conversation, which seems to be quite interesting. I'll take it down.
J. K.: But how do you know there were pirates anywhere near Trasket Rock?
Garth: There were pirates everywhere then. They might just as well have buried treasure on Trasket Rock as anywhere else. Some more marmalade, please.
J. K.: (That's the third time, Garth. Take ​another piece of bread with it.) Why do you think so?
Garth: Oh, I don't know. Once when Fogger and I were out by the Rip, we saw a queer sort of thing. I thought it was the ghost of a ship, but it might have been a cloud-bank, of course, or a mirage or something. It was standing in toward Trasket—hand me the milk, please—but it was too far off to tell much.
J. K.: If your father thinks that I can sail well enough, you and I might take the Ailouros and go treasure-hunting some day on Trasket Rock. (I told you she was improving, Brob!)
Inarticulate sounds of joy from Garth at the suggestion. I must go in and see that he doesn't eat all the marmalade.
Please don't work too hard. I wish I could see what you are doing. When town is too horrid, try to think of us being so happy out here and wishing for you.
Lots of love,
Elspeth.