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Updated: May 18, 2025
But the comrade who rode alongside and congratulated him on not having any gun-shot wounds meant well, and he restrained his impatience. Only when Grady, whom he credited with more sense, went on the same tack, he said, "Thank you, Paddy; did you ever see a codfish crimped?" "No, sure, but I have seen a salmon." "Alive?" "In course; it's no use doing it after he's dead."
His absorption in his studies was intense as at one time he signs himself to his fellow-worker, W. K. Parker, "Ever yours amphibially," so Jeffery Parker, his demonstrator, who tells the story, came to him with a question about the brain of the codfish at a time when he was deep in the investigation of some invertebrate group. "Codfish?" he replied; "that's a vertebrate, isn't it?
Rob McIntyre had been angling for codfish at the top of Valdez dock for the past half-hour. Now, hearing the hoarse boom of the ocean vessel's whistle out in the fog-bank which covered the mouth of the harbor, he pulled in his fishing-line, hurriedly threw together his heap of flapping fish, and, turning, sent shoreward the cry always welcome to dwellers in Alaska coast towns. "Steamboat!
Gee, I never knew chocolate and bacon went so good together." "To-morrow for breakfast I'll give you a boiled egg stuffed with caraway seeds," said Roy. "Give him a Dan Beard omelet," said Tom. "What's that?" asked Pee-wee, his two hands and his mouth running with greasy chocolate. "Salt codfish with whipped cream," answered Roy. "Think you'd like it?" Pee-wee felt sure he would.
It didn't matter any more that she had once chased me through the Glen with a codfish; it didn't matter that she had smeared goose-grease all over my dream of romance the night of the lighthouse dance; it didn't matter that she thought she knew more than anybody else and always rubbed it in I would never dislike Mary Vance again. I went over to her and kissed her. "'What's up now? she said.
There is a famous fishery there now called the Davidson Banks, and the codfishing fleet has its headquarters on Popoff Island. Millions of codfish are caught here every year. These islands are also a favourite haunt of the sea otter, Belofsky, at the foot of Mt. Pavloff, is the centre of the trade."
"I am having more dinners to-day than my share," she observed over the pumpkin pie and cheese. "We have ours at twelve, you know." "What did you have?" "Codfish balls and pickles and stale bread and butter." "No dessert?" "No," she laughed; "that was cut out months ago." He shook his head gravely. "I didn't suppose it was as bad as that." "This makes up," she said gayly.
"Now I would wager a quintal of codfish, Master Coffin," said Barnstable, "against the best cask of porter that was ever brewed in England, that fellow believes a Yankee schooner can fly in the wind's eye! If he wishes to speak to us, why don't he give his cutter a little sheet, and come down?"
Wragge, becoming violently excited in a moment. "Boiled pork and greens and pease-pudding, for Number One. Stewed beef and carrots and gooseberry tart, for Number Two. Cut of mutton, and quick about it, well done, and plenty of fat, for Number Three. Codfish and parsnips, two chops to follow, hot-and-hot, or I'll be the death of you, for Number Four. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
"Anyway, I caught a codfish once," Monnie said, to comfort herself. In two hours everything was as settled about the camp as if they had lived there a week, and every one was hungry again. Hungriness and sleepiness came just as regularly as if they had had nights and clocks both, to measure time by.
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