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Updated: May 20, 2025
It isn't like selling sailing-ships. Steamers do get out of date, besides getting old." "He must have laid by a good bit of money though," observed Captain Whalley quietly. The Harbor-master puffed out his purple cheeks to an amazing size. "Not a stiver, Harry. Not a single sti-ver."
I'm damned if I say another word about the harbor-master until you've been to Halyard's!" "A harbor-master," I persisted, "is an official who superintends the mooring of ships isn't he?" But he refused to be tempted into conversation, and we lounged silently on the lumber until a long, thin whistle from the locomotive and a rush of stinging salt-wind brought us to our feet.
As for the harbor-master and the blow I am now striking at the old order of things But of that I shall not speak now, or later; I shall try to tell the story simply and truthfully, and let my friends testify as to my probity and the publishers of this book corroborate them.
We must premise, at the same time, that to his honorary duties as admiral, conjoined the humbler, but not less useful, offices of lighthouse keeper, manager of the fisheries, and harbor-master. As a country grows rich, and advances in prosperity, it rarely, if ever, happens that the sum of human life becomes happier or better.
Your goods will go aboard in due season, I promise you; so ride back into the town and find such pleasure as you may, while I and my mates do our work without let or hindrance." "It is the gentle Chandos!" cried some one in the crowd. "It is the good Sir John." The rough harbor-master changed his gruffness to smiles in an instant. "Nay, Sir John, what would you?
He sought out the harbor-master, who was engaged in painting a dory behind his shop. "Wal, boy, want to get a fish-hook?" he queried, squinting toward Ken with a preoccupied eye. Ken disclaimed any desire for the fish-hook, and said he wanted to ask about a boat. "Ain't got none for sale ner hire, just now," the harbor-master replied. Ken said, so he had heard, but that wasn't it.
When I came to myself I was thrashing about knee-deep in a rocky pool, blinded by the water and half suffocated, while under my feet, like a stranded porpoise, the harbor-master made the water boil in his efforts to upset me.
And, as I passed them with a nod, turning, I saw that they also had turned to look after me, and I caught a word or two of their conversation, whirled back to me on the sea-wind. They were speaking of the harbor-master.
He got drownded in Febrerry fell outen his boat, seems so, an' we got him, but we never got the boat. Couldn't figger wher' she had got to. He was down harbor when 't happent. Cur'ous tide-racks 'round here." "Whose is she, then?" Ken asked. "Any widows or orphans?" "Nary widder," said the harbor-master, chewing tobacco reflectively. "No kin. Finders keepers. B'longs to you, I reckon.
The old lady was so surprised that it took a long time to explain, but she promised to let her daughter know all about it. Captain Fairfield is not crossing the ocean any more, having received the appointment as harbor-master in an English port. He does not want his son George, who is in College yet, to show any liking for the sea.
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