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Updated: May 4, 2025
Reluctantly he backed under the raised shafts. The Captain stood off to take an admiring glance at the turnout. "She's down by the bow some, Lank, but I guess she'll lighten when we get aboard. See what you think." Lank's inspection caused him to meditate and scratch his head.
But the lines held up his head and kept his nose pointing straight for the little beach on Sculpin Point, perhaps a quarter of a mile distant. Somewhat heavy weather the deep-laden dory made of it, and in spite of Lank's vigorous bailing the water sloshed around Mrs. Bean's boot-tops, yet in time the sail and Barnacles brought them safely home.
Bastabol Buckett Bean, her plump hand resting affectionately on the sleeve of the Captain's best blue broadcloth coat, said, cooingly: "Now, Cap'n, I'm ready to drive to Sculpin Point." "All right, Stashia, Lank's waitin' for us at the front door with the craft." At first sight of the boat on wheels Mrs.
Bean climbed the step-ladder, bestowed herself unhandily on the midship thwart and, with Lank on lookout in the bow, and Captain Bean handling the reins from the stern sheets, the honeymoon chariot got under way. By the time they reached the Shell Road the gait of the dejected Barnacles had dwindled to a deliberate walk which all of Lank's urgings could not hasten.
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