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At the end of the table a police sergeant was sitting, with a little pile of newspapers and illustrated journals before him. He rose to his feet with alacrity at his superior's entrance. "Good morning, Saunders," John Dory said. "I see you've got it pretty snug in here." "Pretty well, thank you, sir," Saunders answered. "Is there anything stirring?"
They were cod fishers, Wyllard told her, and he added that there was a host of them at work somewhere in the sliding haze. She imagined, now and then, that the fog had a depressing effect on him, and that when the dory lay beneath the rail there had been an unusual look in his face.
Antoine would have passed on, but Dory stopped him. "There is a door there," he said. "We will try that." "It is the sick waiter who lies within," Antoine protested. "Monsieur can hear him groan." There was, indeed, something which sounded like a groan to be heard, but Dory was obstinate. "If he is so ill," he demanded, "how is he able to lock the door on the inside?
The doctor shook his head. "No!" he answered. "An inch higher up and he must have died at once. I want some of the men-servants to help me carry him to a bedroom, and plenty of hot water. Some one else must go for my instrument case." Lord Sotherst took these things in charge, and John Dory turned to the man whom they had found standing over him. "Tell us exactly what happened," he said, briefly.
"Come, Mike, zee the English sporting speerit! Voila! What a race a dory and a dry dock!" "Throw us a line!" shrieked Madden, "you blithering think this is fun?" "Ah, pardon, a thousand pardons! I hasten!" He disappeared and a few seconds later a coil of rope came hurtling down. Madden caught it and his toil was over.
A fisherman lives on luck, so for a month there was no remark upon the suddenly changed condition. But after that, as the days passed and not a full dory raced up to Bill Boughton's fish stand, muttered whispers and old tales went up and down the island.
"And watch out for your oars. Keep them in the water and be sure the wrappings fit tight in the locks." Gregory nodded and took his place in the skiff. "We'll be back in five minutes," he said. Then he shoved the dory out into the fog. From the ledge of rock which bordered the cove, the half-starved man pulled the razor-backed mussels from the sea-grass and broke them open with his pocket-knife.
He dared not go home to comfort his wife if there could be any comfort under such circumstances. Stealing down to the river in the gloom of the night, he embarked in a dory he owned, and before morning pulled twelve miles to a city on the other side of the bay, from which he made his way to Gloucester, where he obtained a lay in a fishing-vessel bound to the Georges.
And he answered: "I never could see any difference myself, Simon, between being lost carrying sail and being lost hove to." After that I said no more. And so, to what must have been the wonder of wind and sea that day, Hugh Glynn drove the little dory into the night and the lee of Sable Island. We took in our sail and let go our anchor. Hugh Glynn looked long above and about him.
"There is a burlesque on 'Pyramus and Thisbe' that we might give," chuckled Jess. "And it's all in doggerel. Let's!" "Reckless ones! Would you spoil all our chances?" demanded Laura. "Aw well " "Remember, we are working for a worthy cause," Dorothy Lockwood mouthed, in imitation of the scorned Miss Carrington. "You are right, Dory," Laura said soberly. "The Red Cross is worth suffering for."
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