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Updated: May 27, 2025
Two or three times Jim tried to open a conversation, but Percy responded only in monosyllables. He was tired and sleepy, and felt generally out-of-sorts. So Jim gave it up and let him alone. They reached Sprowl's Cove at noon. Budge and Throppy had returned some time before from pulling the lobster-traps; Jim inspected their catch. "About forty pounds," was his estimate.
"No blisters for us this morning!" he shouted. "Here comes Captain Ben in the Calista! He'll tow us in." Presently the lobster-smack was alongside, and soon the Calista, with sloop and dory in tow, was heading for Sprowl's Cove. Jim and Percy had left their boat and come on board the smack. They noticed that Higgins seemed unusually serious. "What's the matter, Cap?" inquired Spurling.
"Perce," said he, "you certainly put up a great fight and saved your fish. Nobody could have done any better." Those few words, Percy felt, amply repaid him for what he had gone through that morning. He had won his spurs and was at last a full-fledged member of Spurling & Company. Half past twelve found the Barracouta again at her mooring in Sprowl's Cove.
He made thirteen in each. Most of them sat like graven images, neither speaking nor stirring. They had not even turned their heads to look at the perishing schooner. He could not understand such indifference to the fate of the craft that had been their home. Sprowl's Cove was right ahead.
The dory, made sound and tight by the ship's carpenter, was dropped overboard, and the boys rowed into Sprowl's Cove. Their appearance transformed the gloom that overhung Camp Spurling into the wildest joy. Budge, Throppy, and Filippo burst out of the cabin and raced headlong down the beach, waking the echoes with their shouts of welcome.
Many's the time he's beat her black an' blue, when she jist went out to get a bit o' somethink for his tea at night, 'cos he would 'ave it she'd been a-doin' what she 'adn't ought " "Where is she?" Ida asked, thinking she had now gathered enough of the features of the case. "I said at the Clock 'Ouse, mem. Mrs. Sprowl's took her in' mem, and is be'avin' to her like a mother. She knew her, did Mrs.
Her husband Miss Hurst was told had deserted her, leaving her entirely without means, and now, but for Mrs. Sprowl's charity, she would have been in the workhouse. This story sounded very strangely to Ida. It might mean that Julian was dead. She wrote a few lines to Waymark, at the old address, and had a speedy reply. Yes, Julian Casti was dead, but the grave had not yet closed over him.
Now let's take these tubs of trawl aboard the sloop." At six the Barracouta, carrying the five boys and towing the dory, started from Sprowl's Cove for Matinicus. It was so calm that the sails were of little assistance, and they had to depend almost entirely on the engine. Rounding Brimstone Point, they headed slightly north of west for Seal Island, about six miles away.
The next morning they landed once more in Sprowl's Cove, and a few hours later they had fallen back into their customary routine, as if smugglers were a thing unknown. The leak in the Barracouta's bow was calked, making her as tight as before. The following day dawned fiery red and it was evident that a fall storm was brewing.
A dory with two men in it came rowing toward the buoy. "How long've you fellows been hanging on here?" shouted a red-sweatered, gray-haired man in the stern. "Since six last night. We blew down from Tarpaulin Island in the norther. Don't you know me, Captain Greenlaw?" "Why, it's Jim Spurling, Tom Sprowl's nephew!" exclaimed the astonished captain. "So the gale blew you down from Tarpaulin, eh?
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