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Updated: June 18, 2025
Captain Code Schofield, I presume," he announced, thrusting his hand nervously into his pocket and bringing out a fistful of papers. So eager and excited was he that, unnoticed, he dropped one flimsy sheet, many times folded, into the grass. "No, I'm not Schofield," rumbled Ellinwood from the depths of his mighty chest. "Get along with you now!"
She sank down amid a profound silence. "Poor thing!" rumbled Pete Ellinwood. "She shouldn't have come. Al Green was her man." Sobbing sounded in another quarter of the hall, and the men looked at one another, disconcerted. Still no one spoke. The matter hung in the balance, for all saw instantly that could the women be provided for this was the solution of the problem.
Twenty miles from home and the two schooners were abreast, tacking together on the long leeward reaches and the short windward ones, as they made across the Bay of Fundy. "Look at her comin' like a racehorse!" cried Ellinwood again, and this time Code recognized the vessel that was pursuing them.
When I get back " But the rest was lost, for distance had overcome her voice. Ellinwood stood and grinned benignly at his goddess. Then he slapped his thigh with an eleven-inch hand and made a noise with his mouth like a man clucking to his horse. "Sprightly as a gal, she is," he allowed. "Dummed if she ain't!"
Code and Ellinwood easily found their trawl buoy by the glimmer of the light across the water. They immediately began to plant the trawl-lines in the tubs aboard the dory. The big buoy for the end of the line they first anchored to the bottom with dory roding. Then, as Ellinwood rowed slowly, Code paid the baited trawl-line out of the tubs.
An hour later, when the cook had sent out his call for the first half, Code made Ellinwood stay on deck and bring the schooner to an anchorage after sounding. The sounding lead is a long slug, something like a window-weight, at the bottom of which is a saucer-shaped hollow. The leadsman, a young fellow from Freekirk Head, took his place on the schooner's rail outside the forerigging.
The big Frenchman, who wore tremendous earrings, a bright scarlet cap with a blue tuft, and a gay sash, lurched through the crowd and against Pete Ellinwood with a malice only too plain. But his effort was attended with failure. Not only did Pete stand like a rock, but he thrust the other violently back with his shoulder, so that he recoiled upon those behind him, earning their loud-voiced curses.
"By thunder, I believe you're right, skipper!" said Ellinwood solemnly. "The dirty dog! Cookee, run that tub up to the truck again. We'll have to call the men in on this." "Oh, he was foxy, that one!" said Code bitterly. "Going out in the fog that way so all hands would think he was lost! I never remembered until this minute that the motor-dory could be run.
Feeling the responsibility to be in capable hands and secretly glad to escape events that might be too much for his years, Captain Tanner walked back to the road, secured his package of groceries at the store, and made his way home to the widow Sprague's house. For five minutes Pete Ellinwood lounged indolently against a spile, engrossed in thought.
He gained his feet and, game to the last, staggered toward Ellinwood. Pete started to run in again, but some one on the edge of the crowd thrust a foot out and the big islander stumbled. Code saw the man who interfered, and, his blood boiling, leaped for him. At the same instant there came a cry of "Police! Police!" But Code did not hesitate.
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