The Monmouth inquirer., 1925-03-05
A Hard Pull

Captain Holcombe, Nate Ryder, Peter
Simpson and Little Abner. The
wharf, gray and shaky with age
stretched out from the grassy bank,
over the pebble beach out into the
blue tide. like long arm Of the small
town. ready to grasp from the broad
waterway whatever OF life and Indus
try came within its reach. 1t caught
but little nowadays. Now and then
an occasional coaster took on load
OF Ice or fish or lumber. Between
times Beachport went to sleep and
dreamed Of her former prosperity.
Captain Holcombe's weather-beat-
en- face had smiled through long life
voyage. 1t was crossed and recrossed
by bad-weather marks OF contrary
gales. but certain humorous lines
spoke of northwest breezes and fair
winds. Nate and Pete We're big,
bronzed young men, mates on coast
ing schooners, taking an idle day or
two between trips As for Little Abb
ner. he was little only in name. Fills
appellation had stuck to him in spite
Of increasing inches, and only strang-
ers saw any humor in the situation.
It was a still afternoon. The only
sounds which broke the quiet were
the swash of the lazy waves against
the rotting wharf, and now and then
the insistent call of the August in
sect.
'The Byron p Thorne will have a
good chance out tonight" remarked
Peter, languidly letting his eyes wan
der over the bay to the horizonline.
Captain Holcombe remarked. Dir
ty to the suth'rd."
"Guess it's only loom"
SWELL" returned the captain. "meb-
be It is and mebbe 1t amt If 1t was
anything else in question you might
calculate. But fog! Scott! There
ain,t anything uncertainer in this
world OF uncertainties. A cyclones
steady-going compared to fog. You
think you are in for 1t, and whit the
sky's clear as "a bell. Again, and you
won't see the bowsprit from midships
for a week OF days.
That's so. asserted Nate.
speaking Of fog. went on the old
man, makes me think OF the summer
OF co. l never see anything like
that before or since,
Where was your" asked Peter
Little Ahner; who was fishing, edged
nearer and kept one ear turned to-
ward the captain.
"Off East Point. whaling. ship
ped that year as mate in the Ellen
Mary, but before | was through the
voyage II be blowed If wasn't every
thing, from eabin-boy to captain. What
with being sick and getting hurt, we
had so many laid up that we all had
to turn to and get the days work done
somehow. First the captain he sailed
IN with a spell OF ailing. then Big jim
broke his leg falling off the foreyards
was ships doetorl" and Captain Hol-
connie cAuckled.
Know anything about doctoring?"
j asked Peter. The captains blue eyes
twinkled beneath their shaggy brows.
We'll perhaps not just according
to the medical idea My sister she
married a man who was studying to
be doctor. He give it up before the
first year was out, and went into the
canning business, but It kind of gave
us feeling of belonging to the pro
fession. That's why they hit on me to
fix Big Jims leg. i must say I was
staggered for bit. I'd never seen a
broken leg, much less meddled with
one. But common sense helps you
along all right If only you don't hinder
1t, and / argued 1t out In my mind
that what that leg wanted was a
chance to mend itself, made it fast
to a bit Of broken oar, dashed it well
with rope yarn, and wrapped 1t up In
a piece OF old sail, and nature did the
rest of the business"
Want he lame?s asked Pete
well. not to speak of 1t put his
steering-tackle bit out OF gear and
he couldn't point according to COM
pass. But nothing to hurt The boys
called me Doc after that, and my
work was cut out for me the rest Of
the voyage. never see anything
like 1t. Seemed as If we had a Jonah
on board Bad luck with whales, too.
They was as scarce as barnacles on
the topmast.
Then the fog shut down, and for
three mortal weeks we much as ever
knew where we was. Fog 1t was
soupi We ate 1t and drank it. and it
got into our heads until we couldn't
think clear. We was soaked from
stem to stern. and the men was fair
crazy. There amt nothing lonesomer
than a fog. Mon. says Angus McDon
aid. He was big, red-haired Scotty.
Mon, I'd gle a good bit o. siller to
haze ane O ma gran'feyther's sermons
aIang! Why?' says / They're the
driest things ken says he
Then Galley Joe's finger had TO
come off, and was the one to do 1t
He'd got It poisoned with q ash
hook
Il don't believe I'd have nerve to
do that" commented Maize
you can always do a thing you
| have to do" returned the captain.
syTtx,,s, =, ~ = x bad-fhaf fs-nrf FIR M a