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Updated: April 30, 2025
Withrow could not see her the first evening, and he talked long and deeply with the nurse. She had no hope to give him: she was mystified. It was her opinion that Kathleen Somers's lack of will was killing her, speedily and surely. "Is there anything for her to die of?" he asked. "There's nothing, you might say, for her to live of," was her reply.
No more came of it until this particular morning, some days after Maurice and Withrow had quarrelled. Wesley Marrs and Tommie Clancy, two men that I never tired of listening to, were on the dock and sizing up the new vessel. Wesley Marrs was himself a great fisherman, and master at this time of the wonderful Lucy Foster. When she swings the main boom over And she feels the wind abaft,
I am not sure that the skipper and Clancy, who were to the wheel, did not try to give Hollis a poke with the end of our long bowsprit; but if they did, the Johnnie was not quite fast enough for that. The Withrow beat us around. Looking back we could see the others coming like wild horses.
"I mustn't miss anyone; Miss Withrow, our president, is so particular. Let me see. You are Miss Gordon," she put a mark opposite the name, "one call; Miss Mills two calls. I shall leave her a card. Then there are Miss Brownlee and Miss Chester they are out, I understand, but I shall leave cards so I can count them too. Now, do you know of any others in this house who should attend St. Stephen's?"
I knew one of the ship-carpenters in Elwell's yard, Levi Woodbury, and he was telling me about some of the vessels that had been launched lately. "Of course," he said, "you saw the one launched a few days ago from here that one built for Mr. Withrow?" I said I had, and that she was a wonder to look at and that I wished Maurice Blake, and not Sam Hollis, was to have her.
Well, sir, I asked a question or two, and they tried to face me out, but out they went first Hollis, and then Withrow, one after the other, and both good and lively. And then Minnie Arkell popped in from her own house by way of the backyard. She didn't expect to see me I know she didn't. Had gone over to her house when the men began to drink, she said, and had just come over to see granny.
"You needn't telegraph just yet," the nurse replied dryly. She looked another woman from the nervous, sobbing creature on the chopping-block. The end was that Miss Willis stayed and Arnold Withrow went. Late that afternoon he left Kathleen Somers staring passionately at the sunset. It was not his moment, and he had the grace to know it.
Fred Withrow and old Duncan are ready to go broke over the race to-morrow. Whichever loses, he'll remember this race, I'm thinking. Here's hoping it won't be Duncan. So to the devil with the betting, Tom. Some of us have bet all we could afford some of us more than we could afford, I callate. Let's have a song instead, Tom." "Anything to please you, Wesley," and O'Donnell began to sing.
And Sam Hollis was not the man to carry the sail, or at least the fishermen of Gloucester generally did not think so. But Withrow and Hollis's gang kept on bragging and they backed their bragging up, too.
I'm just wise to it that it wasn't old Duncan alone that wanted Maurice for skipper. Lord, Lord, down at the Delaware Breakwater do you remember that when we heard that the Foster girl owned a part of this one, I said, like the wise guy I thought I was, 'Ha, ha, I said, 'so Miss Foster owns a third? That's it, eh? And now it's Minnie Arkell a third. Where does Withrow come in?
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