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Updated: June 18, 2025
Code, being the sole owner of the Charming Lass, took two thousand dollars as his share, and the rest was divided almost equally among the other nine men, a trifle extra going to Pete Ellinwood for his services as mate.
Self-consciousness and restraint were forgotten in this struggle for the common preservation, and above the buzz of general intense discussion there rose always the voice of some speaker with an idea or suggestion. Code Schofield had come to the meeting with Pete Ellinwood and Jimmie Thomas, both dory mates at different times.
Ellinwood leaped for the weather-rigging and the other two clutched the wheel as they stood waist-deep in the surge that roared over the taffrail and to leeward. "Pass the life-lines, Pete," ordered Code, and all hands passed stout ropes from rigging to house to rail, forward and astern, so that there might be something to leap for when the Lass was boarded by a Niagara.
He had only turned to the companionway when the great voice of Pete Ellinwood rumbled down to him. "Come on deck, skipper, an' look over this schooner astern of us. There's somethin' queer about her. I don't like her actions." Code took the steps at a jump, and a moment later stood beside Ellinwood. The Lass was snoring along under full sail.
If they're all like this we're done for until we can get more." Ellinwood looked at him in amazement, his jaw sagging. "Well, who in thunder would do this?" Code laughed bitterly. "There's only one man I can think of, and that is the fellow who got my motor-dory under false pretenses. You remember how he made the cook and the boy help him get it over the side?
"All right; that's all I wanted to know," said the man, and set down the megaphone. He gave some rapid orders to the crew, and his vessel swung around so as to catch the wind again. Code and Ellinwood looked at one another blankly. "Hey there!" shouted Schofield at the top of his voice. "Who are you and what do you want?"
Schofield had taken a bundle of Code's clothing and gone to Castalia in the afternoon, she having overheard the conversation that took place between her mistress and Pete Ellinwood. When he had gained this information Burns hurried from the house and toward the spot on the beach between the wharfs where his dory lay.
Hurricane warnings had been issued all along the coast, and not a vessel ventured out, but these stanch fishing vessels cared not a whit. It was evident, however, that something must give. Human ingenuity had not constructed a vessel that could stand such driving. Even Pete Ellinwood began to lose his heartiness as the Lass went down and stayed down longer with each vicious squall.
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.
"Please accept service of this paper, Captain Schofield," said the other, extending a legal-looking document, and shrugging his shoulders as though to say that Pete's denial of identity was, of course, only natural, but could hardly be indulged. "I'm not Schofield!" bellowed Pete, outraged. "My name's Ellinwood, an' anybody'll tell you so. I won't take your durned paper.
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