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Updated: June 18, 2025
Now, there's no tellin' how long he might have to stay away, an' I've been figgerin' that perhaps if you was to take him a bundle of clothes it wouldn't go amiss." "I'll do it," announced ma sturdily. "Just you tell Jimmie to wait a quarter of an hour and I'll be along. Now, Pete Ellinwood, listen here. What scheme have you got in your mind? I can see by your eyes that there is one."
"Mille tonnerres!" bellowed the Frenchman. "You insult me, cochon Canadien, Canadian pig! The half of sidewalk is mine, eh? You push me off, eh? You fight, eh?" Code urged Ellinwood along and interceded personally, knowing that the big man would not touch him. But the Frenchman would not be appeased.
Andrew's, or was perhaps defending his life in the murderer's pen. The night of the fight had been a wild one for Ellinwood. At the cry of "Police!" the crowd had seemed to melt away from him like the bank fog at the sweep of a breeze.
The situation had resolved itself into a race between the schooners, and Ellinwood was of no mind to come off second best. Like a jockey before a race, he watched his rivals. He knew that foxy Bijonah Tanner, who sometimes looked like an old hump-backed cod himself, was his most dangerous rival.
The Charming Lass cast her anchor shortly before six o'clock, having made the run in five and a half hours with a good breeze behind. Code and Ellinwood immediately went over the side in the brown dory of the mate and pulled for the customhouse wharf.
Big Pete Ellinwood, with the piles of buckets beside him, seized one and twitched it full. "Pass!" screamed the squire as it came up dripping. Ellinwood's great arm swung forward to meet the arm of the man a yard away. The bucket changed hands and went forward without losing a drop. Up it went swiftly from one to another, to the eaves, to the two men at the top.
Kent took the wheel, and Ellinwood lurched about with a critical eye upon the lashings, sheets, and general appearance of the deck. Schofield, remembering the schooner that had attracted his eye before, looked astern for her. She had gained rapidly upon them in the half-hour he had been below.
The two were, therefore, about equally matched, and it was evident that the contest would resolve itself into one of sail-carrying, seamanship, and nerve. "That other feller's comin' up fast!" said Pete Ellinwood, and Code looked back to see the strange schooner looming larger and larger in his wake.
"She'll get skipper's share if I have to lick every hand aboard!" growled Ellinwood. "An' you can rest easy on that." "That's fine," said Code gently; "and I don't know what I'd do without you, Pete." "You ain't supposed to do without me. What in thunder do you suppose I shipped with you fer if it wasn't to look after you, hey?" The men had finished dressing down and were cleaning up the decks.
Adelbert Bysshe, rector of the Church of England chapel, had held a secret conclave the night before at the squire's house. It was believed that the signs were the result, and intimated in certain obscure quarters that Pete Ellinwood, who had always claimed literary aspirations, had printed them. Odd Fellows' Hall was the biggest and most pretentious building in Freekirk Head.
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