Captains Courageous by Rudyard Kipling (e manga reader .txt) đ
- Author: Rudyard Kipling
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âI know ut. Yeâd talk him dead anâ cowld. Silince, Tom Platt! Now, after all Iâve said, howâd you reef the foresail, Harve? Take your time answerinâ.â
âHaul that in,â said Harvey, pointing to leeward.
âFwhat? The North Atlantuc?â
âNo, the boom. Then run that rope you showed me back thereââ
âThatâs no way,â Tom Platt burst in.
âQuiet! Heâs larninâ, anâ has not the names good yet. Go on, Harve.â
âOh, itâs the reef-pennant. Iâd hook the tackle on to the reef-pennant, and then let downââ
âLower the sail, child! Lower!â said Tom Platt, in a professional agony.
âLower the throat and peak halyards,â Harvey went on. Those names stuck in his head.
âLay your hand on thim,â said Long Jack.
Harvey obeyed. âLower till that rope-loopâon the after-leach-krisâno, itâs cringleâtill the cringle was down on the boom. Then Iâd tie her up the way you said, and then Iâd hoist up the peak and throat halyards again.â
âYouâve forgot to pass the tack-earing, but wid time and help yeâll larn. Thereâs good and just reason for ivry rope aboard, or else âtwould be overboard. Dâye follow me? âTis dollars anâ cents Iâm puttinâ into your pocket, ye skinny little supercargo, so that fwhin yeâve filled out ye can ship from Boston to Cuba anâ tell thim Long Jack larned you. Now Iâll chase ye around a piece, callinâ the ropes, anâ youâll lay your hand on thim as I call.â
He began, and Harvey, who was feeling rather tired, walked slowly to the rope named. A ropeâs end licked round his ribs, and nearly knocked the breath out of him.
âWhen you own a boat,â said Tom Platt, with severe eyes, âyou can walk. Till then, take all orders at the run. Once moreâto make sure!â
Harvey was in a glow with the exercise, and this last cut warmed him thoroughly. Now he was a singularly smart boy, the son of a very clever man and a very sensitive woman, with a fine resolute temper that systematic spoiling had nearly turned to mulish obstinacy. He looked at the other men, and saw that even Dan did not smile. It was evidently all in the dayâs work, though it hurt abominably; so he swallowed the hint with a gulp and a gasp and a grin. The same smartness that led him to take such advantage of his mother made him very sure that no one on the boat, except, maybe, Penn, would stand the least nonsense. One learns a great deal from a mere tone. Long Jack called over half a dozen ropes, and Harvey danced over the deck like an eel at ebb-tide, one eye on Tom Platt.
âVerâ good. Verâ good don,â said Manuel. âAfter supper I show you a little schooner I make, with all her ropes. So we shall learn.â
âFust-class ferâa passenger,â said Dan. âDad heâs jest allowed youâll be wuth your salt maybe âfore youâre draownded. Thetâs a heap fer Dad. Iâll learn you more our next watch together.â
âTaller!â grunted Disko, peering through the fog as it smoked over the bows. There was nothing to be seen ten feet beyond the surging jib-boom, while alongside rolled the endless procession of solemn, pale waves whispering and lipping one to the other.
âNow Iâll learn you something Long Jack canât,â shouted Tom Platt, as from a locker by the stern he produced a battered deep-sea lead hollowed at one end, smeared the hollow from a saucer full of mutton tallow, and went forward. âIâll learn you how to fly the Blue Pigeon. Shooo!â
Disko did something to the wheel that checked the schoonerâs way, while Manuel, with Harvey to help (and a proud boy was Harvey), let down the jib in a lump on the boom. The lead sung a deep droning song as Tom Platt whirled it round and round.
âGo ahead, man,â said Long Jack, impatiently. âWeâre not drawinâ twenty-five fut off Fire Island in a fog. Thereâs no trick to ut.â
âDonât be jealous, Galway.â The released lead plopped into the sea far ahead as the schooner surged slowly forward.
âSoundinâ is a trick, though,â said Dan, âwhen your dipsey leadâs all the eye youâre like to hev for a week. What dâyou make it, Dad?â
Diskoâs face relaxed. His skill and honour were involved in the march he had stolen on the rest of the Fleet, and he had his reputation as a master artist who knew the Banks blindfold. âSixty, mebbeâef Iâm any judge,â he replied, with a glance at the tiny compass in the window of the house.
âSixty,â sung out Tom Platt, hauling in great wet coils.
The schooner gathered way once more. âHeave!â said Disko, after a quarter of an hour.
âWhat dâyou make it?â Dan whispered, and he looked at Harvey proudly. But Harvey was too proud of his own performances to be impressed just then.
âFifty,â said the father. âI mistrust weâre right over the nick oâ Green Bank on old Sixty-Fifty.â
âFifty!â roared Tom Platt. They could scarcely see him through the fog. âSheâs bust within a yardâlike the shells at Fort Macon.â
âBait up, Harve,â said Dan, diving for a line on the reel.
The schooner seemed to be straying promiscuously through the smother, her headsail banging wildly. The men waited and looked at the boys who began fishing.
âHeugh!â Danâs lines twitched on the scored and scarred rail. âNow haow in thunder did Dad know? Help us here, Harve. Itâs a big un. Poke-hooked, too.â They hauled together, and landed a goggle-eyed twenty-pound cod. He had taken the bait right into his stomach.
âWhy, heâs all covered with little crabs,â cried Harvey, turning him over.
âBy the great hook-block, theyâre lousy already,â said Long Jack. âDisko, ye kape your spare eyes under the keel.â
Splash went the anchor, and they all heaved over the lines, each man taking his own place at the bulwarks.
âAre they good to eat?â Harvey panted, as he lugged in another crab-covered cod.
âSure. When theyâre lousy itâs a sign theyâve all been herdinâ together by the thousand, and when they take the bait that way theyâre hungry. Never mind how the bait sets. Theyâll bite on the bare hook.â
âSay, this is great!â Harvey cried, as the fish came in gasping and splashingânearly all poke-hooked, as Dan had said. âWhy canât we always fish from the boat instead of from the dories?â
âAllus can, till we begin to dress daown. Efter thet, the heads and offals âuâd scare the fish to Fundy. Boatfishinâ ainât reckoned progressive, though, unless ye know as much as dad knows. Guess weâll run aout aour trawl to-night. Harder on the back, this, than frum the dory, ainât it?â
It was rather back-breaking work, for in a dory the weight of a cod is water-borne till the last minute, and you are, so to speak, abreast of him; but the few feet of a schoonerâs freeboard make so much extra dead-hauling, and stooping over the bulwarks cramps the stomach. But it was wild and furious sport so long as it lasted; and a big pile lay aboard when the fish ceased biting.
âWhereâs Penn and Uncle Salters?â Harvey asked, slapping the slime off his oilskins, and reeling up the line in careful imitation of the others.
âGit âs coffee and see.â
Under the yellow glare of the lamp on the pawl-post, the focâsle table down and opened, utterly unconscious of fish or weather, sat the two men, a checkerboard between them, Uncle Salters snarling at Pennâs every move.
âWhatâs the matter naow?â said the former, as Harvey, one hand in the leather loop at the head of the ladder, hung shouting to the cook.
âBig fish and lousyâheaps and heaps,â Harvey replied, quoting Long Jack. âHowâs the game?â
Little Pennâs jaw dropped. ââTwerenât none oâ his fault,â snapped Uncle Salters. âPennâs deef.â
âCheckers, werenât it?â said Dan, as Harvey staggered aft with the steaming coffee in a tin pail. âThat lets us out oâ cleaninâ up to-night. Dadâs a jest man. Theyâll have to do it.â
âAnâ two young fellers I knowâll bait up a tub or so oâ trawl, while theyâre cleaninâ,â said Disko, lashing the wheel to his taste.
âUm! Guess Iâd ruther clean up, Dad.â
âDonât doubt it. Ye wunât, though. Dress daown! Dress daown! Pennâll pitch while you two bait up.â
âWhy in thunder didnât them blame boys tell us youâd struck on?â said Uncle Salters, shuffling to his place at the table. âThis knifeâs gum-blunt, Dan.â
âEf stickinâ out cable donât wake ye, guess youâd better hire a boy oâ your own,â said Dan, muddling about in the dusk over the tubs full of trawl-line lashed to windward of the house. âOh, Harve, donât ye want to slip down anâ git âs bait?â
âBait ez we are,â said Disko. âI mistrust shag-fishinâ will pay better, ez things go.â
That meant the boys would bait with selected offal of the cod as the fish were cleanedâan improvement on paddling bare-handed in the little bait-barrels below. The tubs were full of neatly coiled line carrying a big hook each few feet; and the testing and baiting of every single hook, with the stowage of the baited line so that it should run clear when shot from the dory, was a scientific business. Dan managed it in the dark, without looking, while Harvey caught his fingers on the barbs and bewailed his fate. But the hooks flew through Danâs fingers like tatting on an old maidâs lap. âI helped bait up trawl ashore âfore I could well walk,â he said. âBut itâs a putterinâ job all the same. Oh, Dad!â This shouted towards the hatch, where Disko and Tom Platt were salting. âHow many skates you reckon weâll need?â
ââBaout three. Hurry!â
âThereâs three hundred fathom to each tub,â Dan explained; âmoreân enough to lay out to-night. Ouch! âSlipped up there, I did.â He stuck his finger in his mouth. âI tell you, Harve, there ainât money in Gloucester âuâd hire me to ship on a regâlar trawler. It may be progressive, but, barrinâ that, itâs the putterinâest, slimjammest business top of earth.â
âI donât know what this is, if âtisnât regular trawling,â said Harvey sulkily. âMy fingers are all cut to frazzles.â
âPshaw! This is just one oâ Dadâs blame experirnents. He donât trawl âless thereâs mighty good reason fer it. Dad knows. Thetâs why heâs baitinâ ez he is. Weâll hev her sagginâ full when we take her up er we wonât see a fin.â
Penn and Uncle Salters cleaned up as Disko had ordained, but the boys profited little. No sooner were the tubs furnished than Tom Platt and Long Jack, who had been exploring the inside of a dory with a lantern, snatched them away, loaded up the tubs and some small, painted trawl-buoys, and hove the boat overboard into what Harvey regarded as an exceedingly rough sea. âTheyâll be drowned. Why, the doryâs loaded like a freight-car,â he cried.
âWeâll be back,â said Long Jack, âanâ in case youâll not be lookinâ for us, weâll lay into you both if the trawlâs snarled.â
The dory surged up on the crest of a wave, and just when it seemed impossible that she could avoid smashing against the schoonerâs side, slid over the ridge, and was swallowed up in the damp dusk.
âTake ahold here, anâ keep ringinâ steady,â said Dan, passing Harvey the lanyard of a bell that hung just behind the windlass.
Harvey rang lustily, for he felt two lives depended on him. But Disko in the cabin, scrawling in the logbook, did not look like a murderer, and when he went to supper he even smiled dryly at the anxious Harvey.
âThis ainât no weather,â said Dan. âWhy, you anâ me
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