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Updated: May 14, 2025
"Dad sez he wouldn't trust a ferryboat within five mile o' you," Dan howled cheerfully. "Why don't he git out, then? Who's hinderin'?" said the other. "'Cause you've jest the same ez lee-bowed him, an' he don't take that from any boat, not to speak o' sech a driftin' gurry-butt as you be."
Every twenty-four hours they did crowd another day's work into her, so that she carried nearly a hundred and fifty tons and the dripping brine had to be pumped out of the hold. It was the night of the day that opened this chapter. The lanterns by which the men had dressed down had been lifted from their supports, the cod livers dumped into the gurry-butt, and the tables removed from the rails.
"But I think it is my duty to help clean." "'Wouldn't hev your conscience fer a thousand quintal," said Dan. "Turn in, Penn. You've no call to do boy's work. Draw a bucket, Harvey. Oh, Penn, dump these in the gurry-butt 'fore you sleep. Kin you keep awake that long?"
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