The Press., 1921-03-17
John Hansen,
 Crew
By FREEMAN PUTNEY, JR.
 Copyright.

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 Stolid, pink-eyed, faxen-haired John Hansen. crew of the Mary H., had gone below to look for the shippers pOcket-knife.
 The skipper himself had stepped from the sloppy fshing-slOop to the ad- joining wharf, while the lowered gaff on which he had been working lay in a disorder of canvas on the deck.
 He walked along the wharf to the schooner in the next berth, and asked a man sitting in the shadow of the fOrecastle for bit of spun yarn.
 My fore speaks gin out on me-" he explained.
 The man on the schooner dropped his newspaper, stood up, spat over the rail, and remarked that 1t was Sum- day. From the fishing-slOOp, the crew, John Hansen, now resting on his el- bows half out of the cabin, grtnned under his thin, cOrn-silk mustache.
 The man on the schooner dropped below to look in his stores, and the skipper waited, puffing on his pipe.
 The man on the schooner came on deck again, shaking his head, and tossed the skipper a handful of tan- gled cord.
 "They got no spun yarn, John" hailed the skipper. "Will marline do?"
 "Ee-yd returned John.
 "Thank ye," gruHted the skipper to the schooner's man. Sorry ye ain't got any spun yarn."
 "All right" mumhled the other, re- suming a cOlOred supplement where he had left off.
 The skipper returned to his slOOp. John Hansen did the repairing, and the skipper assisted. Before long the iron was rewOund, the ropes strength ened, and the hayards rebent.
 "NOw," said the skipper, "ye can go ashore. We'll sail airly in the mOrnin' so ye better sleep aboard. Ye gOin' up to see Christina this after nOOn?"
 John grinned.
 "Ee-yah," he drawled. ) "1 tank I go see her"
 "She's mighty stanch gal, Chris tina" admired the skipper. You an she goin' ter git spliced sOOn?"
 The crew blushed.
 "I ain't asked her yet, but I tank
 That's right" approved the skip per. Don't ask her till we're sure, right an tight"
 "Ee-yah," corrected John. "I tank one ting can break it. Suppose the girl go away"
 What dye mean"
 "I tank Itgot promised to marry a girl once myself. went on a fishing trip, and when come back the girl ban gone away"
 "A gal at hOme?' No, a girl named Fannie, here, when I first came to Hardyport. She went away. l tank l ain't promised to her longer. eh?"
 The skipper thoIght rapidly. For two years John Hansen had served as lone hand on the shore fishing-boat. Working on shares, his portion of the proceeds had given him a good bal ance in the savings bank uptown, but the skipper knew that the balance should have been many dollars more. John had trusted the slippers arithmetic and without question taken what was given him each settling day. A watchful wife would end this. He would encourage anything that might delay this marriage.
 "Ye sartain got ter marry Fannie if ye said ye would" he began.
 John looked perpIexed.
 'T don't tank so," he considered slowly. "She ban gone to New York her cousins they told me. What make it she don't write me a letter if she want me?"
 'Oh. ye never can tell about wonI- en fOlks," generalized the skipper easily. ''She may be breakin' her lit- tie heart waitin', fur all ye know"
 With troubled face, John washed his hands and face and changed his clothes in the cabin. Then. going on deck. he cOmbed his hair before a fragment of mirror stuck in a mast hoop.
 "I tank" he announced finally, 'I 20 up an see the parsOn at the Bethel I got to be honest an if ban fool to get promised to little Fannie long time before I saw Christina, maybe I have to pay for it. Only hope" he added brOkenly-"I hope Christina she don't care-much
 That's right" approved the skip per.
 That afternoon. when the meeting at the Fishermen's Bethel was over, John Hansen did go to the parson, and the parsOn. having untangled from Johns broken English what seemed to be a straight version of the story, did tell the tall. light-haired fisherman to wait. John did not go to see Christina that evening.
 Instead, he made his way back to the wharf.
 ''I tank I don't fish any more," he announced to the astonished skipper. "Why nOt?" was the demand.
 ''I tank I go to find Fannie.
 But, ye tOw-headed sculpin' ye can't find her in New York!"
 Deaf to expOstulatiOn. John steaG- fly packed his dunnage-bag, while the skipper swore the oaths of man who had overreached himself.
 II
 Three evenings John Hansen spent under the glare of the electric lights in COney Islands RUwery before ,,t. found her.
 He recognized Fannie in spite of the bleaching of her hair. lIle rouge IFn her cheeks. and the exaggerated outlines of her silk clothes TrouNled