Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1903-12-02
ANDREW HANSEN'S DEBT.
EsE EEs Fl q E HE e
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sons wages in sullen drinking.
But when he quietly put his net In
No. 345 on the 10th, and started out
"fall fishing" the mods Of head
changed to open-mouthed astonish-
ment. For Andrew was forehanded in
his way, and enjoyed the reputation OF
making enough, even in poor sum-
mer, to avoid the necessity for drift
ing for the Shiny salmon that enter
the Columbia in the later months.
Instead Of six cents, fish now COM
manded only one cent at the cannery
scales, and Andrew grew gaunt and
haggard before September was out.
One day he brought in two hundred
and fifty pounds, his biggest catch.
His balance at the Astoria Crescent
was bettered some nine dollars by two
weeks work. And Andrew had no
boat-puller to share his profits, but
toiled alone, he and his alarm clock
that warned him to wake and work
when sleep was heavy upon him.
One Sundayl~at noon Andrew came
down from the little house under the
hill, shambiing sullenly out on the
wharf to where his boat lay nosing a
fender pile. His pipe was gripped in
his teeth, and he ragged that the day
should be so fine when he must go out
and spend it in a dirty boat alone,
while his wife sat in white anger at
his parting silence.
al Noyv hn how h
jolted down the ladder, pulled his boat
in sharply and dropped on the net.
heaped amidships. Then with quick
jerks he stepped the mast, threw off
the riding line, and with a thrust Of
an oar was out in the stream. Five
minutes later No. 345 was speeding
across toward the deep calm in the lee
Of the Washington hills. Bowed in the
stern was Andrew Hansen, clutching
his tiller in one hairy hand and hold
ing the sheet in the other. Only once
did he glance back, to see if the fish
warden's launch was still tied up by
her dock. For Sunday, until six
o'clock in the evening, is CLOSED"
Sunset found him below Sand Is
land slowing the last fathoms of his
reeking net. A dozen poor fish slid
back and forth in the well to the tum-
BILE of the boat. Andrew flung in the
last armful Of net, and stood up to
ease his aching back. His eye caught
solitary pink cloud riding high in
the evening sky, and his gaze fastened
ON it trrucu,ently.
Gradually the ocean wind chilled,
and the dusk came on like puffs Of
smoke before it. The crystal Of the
lee shores dimmmed, and the bar
leaped higher against the blackened
embers Of the west. The clear CLEAN
from a lighthouse threaded the twi-
light, and No. 345 plunged wildly over
gray combers. Still Andrew poised
his bulk over the boat, and as the
seas, rising with the tide, tossed it an
grily, his grim face hardened. Before
his mind rose the image Of the man
ager who had cheated him, Of the fell
low fisherfolk who had looked at him
quizzically, or hostilely, or pityingly.
His big fists clenched because were
it not for one thing, he was strong
enough to fend against them all. That
one thing had ridden his heart till the
very thought Of it made his teeth
fasten in his lips and the blood swell
his veins to bursting.
With sudden access of rage, he
pulled out Of his jacket pocket his fish
book and held it's almost Obliterated
pages up before him. The grabbed
scrawls Of many weighers were jum-
bled in it's rude columns. But hate
knew the false entries, and his finger,
shriveled by the cold brine, shook as
it traced them out. Then the vision
of the little home under the hill, a
pale-faced wife, and babe with tiny
fists. blurred his sight and effaced the
sordid characters. And then a sand
laden wave fell on No. 345, and flooded
it till Andrew was knee-deep in water
With leap he seized an oar. swung
the boat round till it met the next
roller head on. and with a few swift
jerks raised the sail. The wind was
getting up fast, but in pure defiance
he put in the spirit, and, before No.
345 could yield dangerously to it's pres
sure, drove the boat into the eye OF the
gale with another sweep Of the oar,
and then fell upon the tiller. The
fish book foated in the water among
the Shiny chums.
1t was black night. and Andrew set
to scanning the lights before running
up the bay. The roar OF the surf was
growing shriller and the foam that
blew past him was alive, not dead
from long drifting. In his wide sweep
of the rivers mouth he caught sight
Of strange light off the south end Of
the bar. He looked again and again
He forgot his wrath in this new mat
ter, and peered under the foot of lis
shaking sail, careless Of the fact that
his boat was half waterlogged and
that his catch was stopping about in
the bottom. For Andrew knew that