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Updated: May 16, 2025
She had been tied up just ten minutes at the Mallaby wharf. As the sorry procession passed the Schofield cottage, Code's mother ran out sobbing and threw herself upon him.
Life aboard the Nettie B. had been a dead monotony. On the foremast above Code's prison hung the bell that rang the watches, so that the passage of every half hour was dinged into his ears. Three times a day he was given food, and twice a day he was allowed to pace up and down the deck, a man holding tightly to each arm.
With a fisherman's skill he had catalogued her every point. He looked at the trail-board along her bows, and where the name should have been there was a blank, painted-out space. It was the mystery schooner! Once more all the fears that had assailed Code's mind at her first appearance returned. He was certain that there was mischief in this.
The money she had mailed to him had only been an excuse to write a letter; the favors to Ma Schofield were, in great part, to help further her plan; the whole business of helping support Freekirk Head was a flash of dramatic display, calculated to bring her ineradicably before Code's eyes and every one else's.
And she did at this moment. But Nat Burns had seen a great deal of her in the last three months, he remembered, taking advantage of Code's desperate search for fish. Once in this train his thoughts bore him on and on. Memories, speculations, and desires crowded his mind, and he forgot that beneath him the roof of Boughton's store was burning more and more briskly.
Old Jasper Schofield, Code's father, and Michael Burns had become enemies over the same girl a quarter of a century before, and the breach had never been healed. Old Captain Jasper had won, but he had never forgotten, and Michael had never forgiven. When they became young men they matched their season's catches and raced their father's schooners.
"Code's in a pile of trouble," said the old man, and went on briefly to narrate the whole circumstance of the insurance company's possible move. "That feller came on the steamer this afternoon, an' if he serves Code with the summons or attachment or whatever it is, it's my idea that the Lass will never round the Swallowtail for the Banks. Where is the boy?"
These huge gray-skinned humanoids were aggressive as hell they were nicknamed Sharks as much for that as for the facial resemblance and this one looked even less well-intentioned toward him than his guards did. "My ident code's TERHE6-2063-4121. What're you doing with my wounded?" "They are medical treatment receiving," Joste said.
When the officer of the law laid his hand on Code's arm and spoke the words that meant imprisonment and disgrace in the very heart of the village festival, a groan went up that caused the officer to look sharply about him.
Ellinwood got out two stout lines and made one fast around Code's waist, leading it to the starboard bitt. The other fastened Jimmie to the port bitt, so that if they were washed overboard they might be hauled back to safety and life again. "Looks like she was blowin' up a little!" remarked Pete later in the day as the Lass rolled down to her sheerpoles in a sudden rain squall.
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