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Title: The Young Wireless Operator—With the Oyster Fleet

Author: Lewis E. Theiss

Illustrator: Frank T. Merrill

Release date: December 23, 2017 [eBook #56229]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed
        Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
        produced from images generously made available by The
        Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG WIRELESS OPERATOR—WITH THE OYSTER FLEET ***




Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)






The Young Wireless Operator--With the Oyster Fleet




_BOOKS BY_

LEWIS E. THEISS

     IN CAMP AT FORT BRADY. A Camping Story. 304 pages.

     HIS BIG BROTHER. A Story of the Struggles and Triumphs of a Little
     Son of Liberty. 320 pages.

     LUMBERJACK BOB. A Tale of the Alleghanies. 320 pages.

     THE WIRELESS PATROL AT CAMP BRADY. A Story of How the Boy Campers,
     Through Their Knowledge of Wireless, "Did Their Bit." 320 pages.

     THE SECRET WIRELESS. A Story of the Camp Brady Patrol. 320 pages.

     THE HIDDEN AERIAL. The Spy Line on the Mountain. 332 pages.

     THE YOUNG WIRELESS OPERATOR--AFLOAT. How Roy Mercer Won His Spurs
     in the Merchant Marine. 320 pages.

     THE YOUNG WIRELESS OPERATOR--AS A FIRE PATROL. The Story of a Young
     Wireless Amateur Who Made Good as a Fire Patrol. 352 pages.

     THE YOUNG WIRELESS OPERATOR--WITH THE OYSTER FLEET. How Alec
     Cunningham Won His Way to the Top in the Oyster Business. 328
     pages.

     Cloth Bound--Illustrated by Colored Plates and Photographs

[Illustration]




The Young Wireless Operator--
With the Oyster Fleet

_HOW ALEC CUNNINGHAM WON HIS
WAY TO THE TOP IN THE
OYSTER BUSINESS_

By
LEWIS E. THEISS

_ILLUSTRATED BY_
FRANK T. MERRILL

[Illustration: Logo]

W. A. WILDE COMPANY
CHICAGO      BOSTON


_Copyright_, 1922,
BY W. A. WILDE COMPANY
_All rights reserved_

THE YOUNG WIRELESS OPERATOR--WITH THE OYSTER FLEET


_This book is dedicated
to the late
DR. JULIUS NELSON,
sometime biologist for New Jersey,
and to
DR. THURLOW C. NELSON,
his son and successor, who have done and
are doing for the oyster industry, what
Liebig did for agricultural chemistry_




Foreword


The story of America's wonderful beds of oysters is the same as the
story of her matchless forests, her remarkable deposits of oil, her
countless herds of bison, and her innumerable flocks of wild pigeons;
and that story is completely told in one word of five letters--waste.
When our magnificent Pennsylvania forests were cut, millions of feet of
lumber were wantonly wasted, left to rot on the ground after the bark
had been stripped off. When that unequaled pool of oil was discovered at
Spindletop, gushers were allowed to spout for days and hours merely to
gratify the vanity of purse-proud owners, and oil was wasted by the
hundred thousand barrels. We are paying for such wastes to-day in the
high price of lumber and oil. And our children and our children's
children will go on paying the price.

I live on the banks of one of America's noblest rivers, the Susquehanna.
A hundred years ago one could throw a line overboard and draw out fish
without number. Now, one can fish half a day without getting a nibble.
Some day, perhaps, we shall have fish again in the Susquehanna. But it
will be in the same way that we are gradually reforesting our denuded
Pennsylvania mountains--at enormous cost, which means perpetually high
priced lumber. It will be the same with our oysters. The enormous beds,
which, properly conserved, would have supplied the nation with cheap
oysters for generations, are gone.

Most of us know less about oyster production than we do about lumbering
or oil drilling. Yet oystering is one of the few truly picturesque
occupations that survive in American life. This book, like its immediate
predecessor, The Young Wireless Operator--As a Fire Patrol, is written
in the hope that young readers may come to understand the real results
of such wastes--the permanent imposition of unnecessary and burdensome
costs for necessities of life which should be cheap.




Contents


    I. A FRIEND IN NEED                          9

   II. THE FLEET SETS SAIL                      18

  III. OVER THE BAR                             28

   IV. DREDGING OYSTERS                         42

    V. EVENING AT THE OYSTER PIER               56

   VI. OVERBOARD IN THE DARK                    67

  VII. A LETTER FOR ALEC                        78

 VIII. ALEC'S FIRST LESSON IN OYSTER-CULTURE    89

   IX. UNDER A CLOUD                           100

    X. ALEC'S DECISION                         108

   XI. A WIRELESS TELEPHONE                    118

  XII. ALEC GETS A NEW JOB                     133

 XIII. AN UNLOOKED-FOR FRIEND                  150

  XIV. THE CORNER-STONE THAT ALEC FOUND        161

   XV. A NEW LIGHT                             168

  XVI. THE PLANTING SEASON BEGINS              180

 XVII. A SEARCH FOR TRUTH                      193

XVIII. A LONG CHASE                            214

  XIX. HOME AGAIN                              234

   XX. THE OSPREY'S NEST                       247

  XXI. THE GREAT SECRET                        264

 XXII. THE NEW CAPTAIN OF THE _BERTHA B_       272

XXIII. ADRIFT IN THE STORM                     282

 XXIV. MISFORTUNES NEVER COME SINGLY           298

  XXV. THE CRISIS                              309

 XXVI. VICTORY                                 318




The Young Wireless Operator--With the Oyster Fleet




CHAPTER I

A FRIEND IN NEED


The oyster-boat _Bertha B_ lay off her pier at Bivalve, the great New
Jersey oyster shipping centre. On either side of her were other craft of
the oyster fleet, all packed together like cigars in a box, and all held
fast to one another by stout hawsers, for the tide in the Maurice River
was running out at a gallop, driven by a high northeast wind. Yet an
observer could hardly have told whether one boat or a dozen lay off the
pier, so dark was the November morning. Heavy clouds obscured the sky,
hiding star and moon. Not the faintest sign of daybreak was yet visible
in the east. A dense mist, that even in daylight would have made things
appear uncertain and indistinct, drove before the high wind, chilling to
the bone every one it touched.

For despite the early hour, the oystermen were astir. Lamps glowed in
the snug cabins of the oyster-boats. Here and there a lantern bobbed
mysteriously in the dark. Red and green lights were being hoisted in the
ships' riggings, and white lights fastened astern of many vessels. Harsh
voices were heard calling through the night. The heavy tramp of boots on
wooden decks sounded here and there in the darkness. Now and again there
was a sharp splash as some sailor dropped a bucket into the tide for
water, or a heavy hawser was cast off. On every side was heard the sound
of preparation; for the fleet was about to sail for the oyster grounds.

Suddenly the door of the _Bertha B's_ cabin opened. A great shaft of
yellow light shot athwart the darkness. Two figures emerged from the
cabin.

"Hello, Jim," called one of them. There was no answer. After a moment's
pause the speaker called again. This time he raised his voice to a great
bellow and repeated his cry: "Hello, Jim!" The second call, magnified by
the fog, went roaring through the fleet. Still there was no answer. "He
ain't here, Cap," said the man who had called, to the figure by his
side. "Maybe he went ashore to get some tobacco."

"Tobacco nothing!" exclaimed the other angrily. "The skunk got his
breakfast and then snuk ashore. I ain't surprised. He looked like that
kind o' cattle. Though he did work pretty darned good the three weeks we
had him!"

The speaker, Captain Christopher Bagley, paused an instant. Then,
"Scabby trick!" he exclaimed. "Leaves us deucedly short handed, and he
knowed it. Better go ashore, George, and see if you can find him. If you
can't, get anybody you can pick up. We got to have another hand."

The sailor, George Bishop, turned without a word and made his way
ashore, ducking under ropes and rigging, stumbling over chains and
dredges, and stepping carefully from boat to boat, until at last he
reached the ship at the end of the pier. The tide was near ebb, and the
sailor had to climb into the ship's rigging in order to get on the pier.

The huge shed skirting the shore was dimly lighted by electric lights;
and the illumination from these faintly lighted the pier, along which
the sailor was now making his way. A great pile of burlap sacks was
heaped up near the centre of the pier, and behind these, like a
windbreak, stood a long row of barrels, piled one above another, and at
least three tiers deep. But the sailor took no note of these things. His
glance roved hither and thither through the great shed and on the
various piers, looking for a familiar form. Half-way across the pier, he
met a fellow sailor.

"Hello, Tom!" he called. "Seen anything of Jim Hawley?"

"No. Did he give you the slip?"

"That's what he did. He come aboard and et his breakfast and then snuk
off. And we was short handed at that."

"I ain't surprised. He was drunk last night."

"Well, he won't do it again. Captain Bagley won't stand for that kind
of cattle. Don't know where we could get another hand, do you? We're
awful short of men."

"No, I don't. Everybody around here that's willin' to work was snapped
up long ago. I got to get aboard. I'm late myself. Good-bye."

The sailor hurried on down the pier and swung himself aboard the ship at
its end.

Sailor Bishop turned on his heel and started along the pier again, to
pursue his search for the missing deck-hand. But hardly had he taken a
step before the pile of burlap bags stirred strangely. The topmost rose
in air and a human figure crawled out from under them.

"Hello!" called this figure after the hurrying form of Sailor Bishop.
"Do you want another hand? I'm looking for a job."

Sailor Bishop turned sharply and stared in astonishment at the person
before him.

"Who are you? And where did you come from?" he demanded.

"My name's Alec Cunningham, and I come from Central City, in
Pennsylvania."

"Ever been oystering?"

"No, sir. I never saw an oyster-boat before."

"Don't know whether you'll do or not," said the sailor. "But come aboard
and talk to the captain. I'll be back in a minute. Wait for me here."

The sailor hurried away, to continue his quest for the missing Hawley.
Alec Cunningham returned to the pile of burlap sacks and dug out an old,
battered valise. Then he carefully piled the burlap sacks in order
again, and when Sailor Bishop returned, he was standing near the end of
the pier, stamping his feet and thrashing his arms about his sides, in
an evident effort to get warm.

"Come on," said the sailor, and the two climbed cautiously from the pier
to the ship's rigging and then dropped to her deck. Carefully they made
their way across boat after boat, until at last they reached the _Bertha
B_. Sailor Bishop led the way to the cabin and entered, followed by the
stranger.

"I couldn't find Jim nowhere, Cap," explained the sailor, "but I picked
up this fellow here. He ain't never ketched oysters, but maybe you could
use him at that."

Captain Bagley stepped forward and looked critically at the stranger. He
saw before him a tall, rangy lad of eighteen years, keen of face, with
dark hair, strong nose, mouth, and chin, and with intelligence plainly
stamped on his open, honest countenance.

"What's your name?" demanded the captain.

"Alec C-C-C-Cunningham, sir," replied the lad.

"Do you stutter always?"

"N-N-N-No, sir. I don't stutter at all. I'm just a little
ch-ch-ch-chilly." And the lad shivered violently.

"He was sleeping on the pier in a pile of oyster sacks," said Sailor
Bishop in explanation.

Captain Bagley stepped forward and laid his hand on young Cunningham's
wrist. It was like ice. The captain ran a quick, investigating finger
over the lad's shoulder. "Hell!" he exclaimed. "The kid ain't got
nothin' on."

He turned to the cook who was just cleaning up the breakfast dishes.
"Dick," he said, "give this boy some grub and a bowl of coffee, and make
it hot, too."

Again he turned to the lad before him. "Get over beside the stove," he
said. "Why in the deuce didn't you tell a fellow you were freezing to
death? Sleep out in a pile of oyster sacks! Why didn't you tell a fellow
you had no place to sleep? You could have had a bunk on the _Bertha B_."

Alec Cunningham tried to express his gratitude, but the right words were
hard to find.

"I--I--I'm much obliged to you," he said. "I didn't get here till late
last night and I didn't know anybody, and I didn't want to disturb
strangers. But it _was_ cold."

"Didn't get here till late last night," repeated the captain. "Where do
you come from, and what did you come here for, if you don't know
anything about oystering and don't know anybody here?"

"I thought maybe I could find my uncle," replied Alec.

"Then you do know somebody here," said the captain sharply, and again he
looked searchingly at the lad before him.

"No, sir, I don't," replied Alec. "You see, sir, my father died
recently. My mother has been dead since I was a little baby. I have no
one to live with. So I thought I would look up my uncle. My father used
to tell me about him, but I never saw him. He is an oysterman here at
Bivalve."

"What's his name?"

"Thomas Robinson, sir. He was my mother's brother."

Captain Bagley turned square around. "Now don't that beat the deuce," he
said to himself. After a moment he turned about and faced Alec again.

"My lad," he said in a strangely altered voice, "you just put your
things in that bunk. The _Bertha B_ is your home as long as you want to
stay on her and work--that is, it is if you don't play us any scabby
tricks like that scoundrel who left us in the lurch this morning."

"But you know I don't know anything about the oyster business," said
Alec with hesitation.

"Neither does anybody else when he's born," growled the captain. "We all
had to learn. And unless I can't read faces any longer, you can learn as
good as anybody."

"Then you'll take me as a hand?"

"You're engaged already."

"Oh, sir! I don't know how to thank you. I--I--I was awfully in need of
work. I haven't a cent left. I don't know what I would have done if I
hadn't found work pretty soon. You won't be sorry you hired me."

An idea struck the captain. "When did you eat last?" he demanded
suddenly.

"Yesterday morning, sir," replied the lad.

"Dick, you darned good-for-nothing cook," stormed the captain, "what
are you standing around looking at the kid for? Get busy, or I'll fire
you."

The cook merely smiled. The captain went blustering off to the
wheel-house. Alec looked puzzled, almost alarmed. In perplexity he
turned to the cook.

"What about my uncle?" he inquired. "Won't the captain let me try to
find him? What did I do to make the captain angry?"

"Lad," said the cook kindly, "there ain't no use trying to find your
uncle. He went overboard last spring, when they was h'isting an anchor
on the _Mary Ford_ and the anchor purchase parted. We never seen him
again. He was a buddy of the captain's. If you just behave yourself,
you've got a job with Captain Bagley for life. Now, get busy and eat
your breakfast, for we're going to cast off in a few minutes."

Alec picked up the steaming bowl of coffee that the cook had placed
before him and was about to take a swallow from it when a crashing sound
rent the air and the _Bertha B_ swayed violently at her moorings. The
captain stepped from the wheel-house and ran out on deck. The sound of
angry voices arose. A moment later Captain Bagley came back.

"That old fool, Tom Hardy, has fouled us," he said angrily. "He had too
much sail up. But he'll pay for his foolishness. His bowsprit carried
away. I don't know how we're going to get out of here now. The tide's
jammed him fast! Anyway, you'll have plenty of time to eat, lad. So go
to it. Now mind you fill him up, Dick."




CHAPTER II

THE FLEET SETS SAIL


"Come over here to the table and set down," said the cook, with a kindly
smile. So tiny was the cabin that one step took Alec to the proffered
stool. Ravenously hungry though he was, his surroundings were so new and
interesting that for a moment he almost forgot to eat, as he looked
around the cabin.

Tiny it was, indeed. And yet everything in it was so compactly arranged
that half a dozen men could live in it. In one corner stood a small,
square stove, now delightfully hot, with its top guarded by a slender
iron railing, like a miniature fence. Alec knew at once that this was to
keep the pots and pans from sliding off the stove when the ship was
pitching about. Even the dishes were suggestive of rough weather; for
the cook had given Alec his coffee in a big bowl, and the huge plate
which he was filling up with pork-chops, fried eggs, and steaming fried
potatoes, was nothing but a great soup plate. Beside the stove stood a
little cupboard, and this, with the stove, practically filled the stern
end of the cabin. A coal-oil lamp was fastened to the wall between stove
and cupboard.

There was just room enough left in this part of the cabin for the men
to pack themselves around the table. The table, however, occupied less
space than any table Alec had ever heard of, for it was nothing but two
smooth, unpainted boards, perhaps four feet long, and hinged so as to
fold together lengthwise. One end of this table now rested in a frame on
the port side of the cabin, while the other end was slung from the cabin
roof by a rope.

Alec thought he had never tasted anything so good as the pork-chops and
fried eggs. Before he knew it, the cook was filling up his plate again,
and pouring him a second bowl of coffee. Alec dumped some sugar in it
and poured out a generous supply of condensed milk from the tin can the
cook shoved toward him.

Now he noticed that the little cabin had a window and a door on each
side. The stove and the cupboard occupied the stern end of the cabin.
The forward end of the cabin contained bunks, built one above another,
along the sides, where several men could sleep. The forward end of the
cabin had been converted into a little pilot-house, with glass windows
along its entire front and a door at each side, where the captain
operated the boat.

For, like most of the oyster craft, the _Bertha B_ had been changed from
sailing ship to power boat. The four-cylindered gasoline engine that
drove the ship and operated the oyster-dredges stood immediately below
the cabin bunk room. Alec could see the engine, for a little hatchway in
the floor of the cabin led directly to the engine room. The hatch was
open and Alec could see a man oiling and adjusting the engine,
preparatory to getting under way.

When Alec had eaten his fill, the cook began to wash the dishes. Alec
picked up a dish towel and dried them. The cook seemed surprised and
pleased. Alec stacked the dishes away in a tiny cupboard behind the
bunks, at the cook's direction, while the cook folded up the table and
stowed it in a rack overhead, leaving the tiny cabin clear and orderly.

"Thanks," smiled Dick, when they had finished; and the way the cook
spoke made Alec feel that he had won a friend.

"If a little thing like drying the dishes will win friends for a
fellow," said Alec to himself, "I'll wipe them every time I get a
chance. I never realized until the last few weeks how much friends mean
to a fellow."

To the cook he said, "Will it be all right for me to go on deck?"

"Sure," said the cook. "But put this on." And from a bunk he pulled a
heavy reefing-jacket.

Gratefully Alec pulled on the coat and stepped out on deck. By this time
the eastern sky was aglow. The fog-bank had dissipated. The sun was not
yet up, but there was sufficient light for Alec to see.

The first thing to catch his attention was the ship that had fouled the
_Bertha B_ and the boats alongside of her. These craft, as close
together as the fingers of one's hand, lay with their noses pointing
up-stream. Across the bows of the outermost was jammed the offending
vessel, the rushing ebb-tide holding her fast. The end of her bowsprit
dangled helplessly and a broken jib-stay was waving about in the wind.
Jammed tight in her rigging was the bowsprit of one of the ships she had
fouled, holding her tight, like an apple spitted on a stick. But no
damage had been done excepting to the offending vessel herself. Men were
pushing against the ship with boat-hooks, while Captain Hardy's own crew
were pumping at a capstan from which a hawser, stretched tight as a
fiddle string, ran to an up-stream pier.

The master of the boat was an evil-looking fellow, as burly as he was
hard-featured. In a great, roaring voice he was cursing his crew,
blaming them for the mishap he was responsible for himself. With angry
impatience Captain Bagley watched the efforts that were making to free
the boat.

"The old fool," he muttered, and to Alec he said, "That fellow ought to
be doing time at Trenton. He's always up to something crooked. The last
time they caught him, he was dredging illegally in the natural beds. He
got off with a fine, but I reckon the next time he gets caught in any
crooked business, he'll go to prison."

For a few moments Alec watched the sailors pumping at the capstan. Then
his gaze shifted to other interesting sights about him.

Down-stream and up, rose a forest of masts; for the pier off which the
_Bertha B_ now lay was only one of a score or more parallel piers. And
off each pier were moored six or eight vessels, with still other ships
at greater distances, tied along the shore beyond the great pier shed.
There were scores and scores of boats, mostly two-masted schooners.
Across the river, which was perhaps 1,000 feet wide, was a second great
pier shed that extended along the shore for hundreds of feet, also with
piers running out from it into the river every few rods. And here, and
along the shore above and below the piers, were anchored other scores of
boats. Altogether, the oyster fleet numbered some hundreds of vessels.

On every ship were signs of activity. In every rigging red and green
lights already sparkled, or men were about to hoist them. On some ships
white lights glimmered aloft; while more and more boats were showing
white lights at their sterns.

Fascinated, Alec watched the scene. For ship after ship, on either side
of the river, now cast off her lines, swung gracefully with the current
and headed down-stream. On every hand rose the steady put-put-put of
ships' motors. For although most of the oyster craft still carried
sails, practically all of them were driven by gasoline, their sails
being used merely as auxiliaries to their engines, or to steady them
when dredging in a wind.

And now Alec saw something that made his eyes fairly pop open with
astonishment. Down-stream came a shapely schooner, sails set and
bellying in the wind. But it was neither wind nor tide that drove her so
fast. For behind her, immediately below her white stern light, was a
chugging motor-boat, nose hard against the schooner, pushing her along
at a merry pace. Alec could hardly trust his eyes. For the little
motor-boat was fastened with its nose high in air and its stern deep in
the tide, and had not a soul aboard of her. But above her, at the wheel
on the stern of the schooner, stood a silent steersman. While Alec was
debating with himself as to whether he should believe what he saw or
not, a second oyster-boat came slipping by, also driven by a little
power boat astern. Before he reached the oyster-beds, Alec saw dozens of
boats so operated; and the cook told him that when the oyster-boats
changed from sail power to motors, some ships, like the _Bertha B_, had
had engines installed in their holds, while others were driven instead
by small power boats.

Presently the ship across their bow was pulled loose, freeing the little
fleet. The outer vessel immediately cast loose, swung in the tide, and
headed down the river. Meantime, a bell rang, there was a sudden
chug-chug-chug alongside, the clank of machinery was heard below, and
the _Bertha B_ began to vibrate. The captain was warming up his motor.

Then, "Cast off!" came the order from the pilot-house. The hawsers were
hauled aboard. The _Bertha B_ moved forward, described a great arc in
the river, and headed for the sea.

Wonderful was the sight that now greeted Alec's eyes. Like a flock of
closely herded sheep, the oyster-boats were making for the dredging
grounds. Before him, beside him, and behind him, their sails showing
faintly in the dim light, Alec saw scores of moving ships. Now he
understood the purpose of all the lights he had seen hoisted. Ahead of
him dozens of stern lights shone white, showing exactly where each ship
was riding. And astern, red and green lights flashed their guiding
signals.

As the light grew stronger, the scenes around the _Bertha B_ stood out
more and more distinctly. Accustomed as Alec was to mountains and
limited views, the pictures that now unfolded before his eyes were like
visions of a new world. The view was boundless. At least, it stretched
level to the distant horizon in every direction. East, west, north,
south, look where he would, the land was as level as a floor. The river
wound about like a snake, and after the _Bertha B_ had traversed one or
two of these serpentine reaches, she seemed to be in the centre of a
vast marsh-land. Everywhere stretched limitless areas of salt meadow.
Cattails, tall rushes, reeds, salt hay, sedges, and other marshy
growths, standing dead and sere, painted the marshes a monotonous brown.
The slightest thing that rose above the general level seemed magnified
into a great bulk. Here and there distant stacks of salt hay stood up
against the sky-line; but they seemed huge, gigantic, unlike any
haystacks Alec had ever seen. And here and there, also, stood solitary
trees or groups of trees, seemingly thrusting their heads into the very
clouds.

But ever the young oysterman's roving eye came back to the moving fleet.
Two, three, and sometimes even four abreast, trailing close on one
another's heels, the white oyster-boats moved out to sea in majesty.
Overhead sailed innumerable gulls, watching for the scraps thrown from
nautical breakfast tables. And when some cook stepped to his deck and
dumped his table scrapings overboard, gulls came darting from far and
near and settled down to fight and cry over the spoils.

Suddenly Alec heard the captain's voice. "Come in here, youngster. I
want to talk with you."

Alec made his way through the cabin into the pilot-house, which was just
deep enough to allow a person to stand comfortably or to sit on a stool.
The floor of the pilot-house was considerably higher than the deck
level, and Alec could see much better here. Also, it was warm. And
although he had been so fascinated by the scene that he had momentarily
forgotten about the weather, he now realized that he had been cold out
on the deck.

A flash of light caught his eye. Then another light blinked at a much
greater distance. "What are those lights?" Alec asked the captain.

"Those are the range-lights, to show the way into the harbor. And off
there you can see East Point Light."

Alec followed the pointing finger of the captain and saw, off the port
bow, a third light gleaming.

"We seem to be catching those fellows ahead," commented Alec.

"I reckon they're stuck in the mud," said the captain. "This northeast
wind's been blowing hard for eighteen hours. It will make pretty low
water."

"How much water does the _Bertha B_ draw?" inquired Alec.

"Four or five feet," said the captain.

"Then we ought not to have any trouble," said Alec. "It looks as though
this river was pretty deep."

"Oh! There's plenty of water in the river; but there's a bar across the
mouth of it, and with this wind blowing there won't be much water over
it."

Rapidly the _Bertha B_ drew near the boats ahead of her. "They're all
fast," commented the captain, as they passed a schooner on which a
sailor was sounding with a pole. "Don't believe he's got three feet of
water," the captain added. "And look there! The bar's clear out of
water, with a flock of gulls on it. That's a sight you don't often
see--the bar out of water."

Alec looked where the captain was pointing, and there, a long distance
off the port bow, where the river entered the Delaware Bay, was a
distinct black streak in the water, roughened at one end. The rough
spots were gulls. But Alec would never have known that the black streak
was a strip of mud and the knobby end was a mass of birds, had not the
captain told him.

"Are we going to get through?" asked Alec, for the _Bertha B_ was still
slowly forging ahead.

"I don't know," said the captain. "We're in the mud now, but we've got a
good engine and if we can keep in the channel, maybe we can make it. But
she's hard to steer in the mud and most of those boats are right in the
channel."

Slowly the _Bertha B_ continued to move through the mud. A short
distance ahead of her a schooner lay directly in the path. The captain
turned his wheel and tried to swing the _Bertha B_ to one side, but she
would not turn. Nearer she came and still nearer to the stranded
schooner. But the captain could not turn her. A collision seemed
inevitable.

"Let go that starboard dredge," cried the captain to Sailor Bishop, who
was still on deck. At the same instant the captain signalled sharply to
the engineer. For a single moment the propeller ceased to turn. Then the
_Bertha B_ trembled from end to end, as the engine started again, full
speed astern. The effect was instantaneous. The _Bertha B_ almost
stopped in her tracks. Before ever the sailor could reach the dredge and
heave it overboard, the oyster-boat swung slightly to one side and lay
still.

"Never mind that dredge," called the captain. To Alec he said, "We're
done. All we can do is to lay here and wait for the tide to float us."




CHAPTER III

OVER THE BAR


The _Bertha B_ now lay as motionless as "a painted ship upon a painted
ocean." The captain released his hold of the steering-wheel and turned
toward Alec, studying his face again.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"I'll be nineteen on my next birthday."

"You are pretty big for your age."

"I'm five feet, ten inches," laughed Alec, "and I don't believe I'm done
growing yet."

"No. You'll be a six footer before you're done. Was your father a large
man?"

"No, sir. I am already two inches taller than he was."

"Where do you get your size from? Was your mother large?"

"No, sir. I've seen pictures of my mother, and she wasn't as tall as
Dad. I guess it must come from good food and exercise."

"If that's the case, you ought to keep right on growing. You'll get
plenty of both aboard an oyster-boat."

"If the breakfast I had was a fair sample, I'm sure there will be plenty
of food."

"I'll see that you get plenty of exercise, too," smiled the captain.

Again he looked Alec over, seemingly in appraisal of his physical
powers. "You don't look like a working boy," he said. "What kind of
exercise have you been used to?"

"I never had to work for my living," replied Alec, "because I was going
to school and Dad supported me. But I did all the chores at
home--chopped the wood, took care of the ashes, dug the garden, and so
on. And I was on the high school athletic teams."

"Humph!" snorted the captain. "That's hard work, that is--playing a
little baseball."

Alec flushed slightly, but made no reply. He knew well enough that the
captain had never played a hard game of football or he would not have
made that remark.

"Know anything about water or boats?" the captain asked, after an
interval.

"I've been used to little sailboats and canoes all my life, sir, and I
can swim."

Alec might have added that he was the champion swimmer of the Central
City High School, but he wisely did not.

"Well," rejoined the captain, "that may be useful to you. There are too
many sailors who cannot swim."

"Sailors who cannot swim," repeated Alec in astonishment. "Why, I
supposed all sailors could swim."

"Then you supposed wrong. Lots of 'em can't swim a stroke."

The captain thrust his head out of a window and surveyed the water.
"Tide's about run out," he said.

Alec noticed that the water below them was moving much slower than it
had been. Accustomed as he was to an inland stream, in which the current
always ran one way, the alternating flow of this tide-water stream
interested him deeply. As he looked at the banks of the river, he could
see that the water had fallen several feet.

"How much does the tide fall here?" he asked.

"About six feet, I reckon," said the captain, "but this is an unusually
low tide. In fact, we haven't had a tide as low as this in years. I
don't know when I've seen that bar out of water before. This stiff
northeast wind, coming straight down the river, has blown the water all
out into the Bay."

"Has the river fallen as much back at the pier as it has here?" asked
Alec, examining the shore carefully.

"Sure thing. There's enough water to float a boat off the ends of the
piers, but the slips between 'em, where you saw the scows, haven't an
inch of water in 'em. They're only mud-flats, now."

In the darkness Alec hadn't seen much of the scows, but he did not tell
the captain so. Instead, he said, "It's wonderful. Will it all run back
now?"

"You'll see it start to flow back in a few minutes. Of course this
won't be a very high tide, for the wind that blew the water out of the
river will keep some of it from running back."

"Suppose the wind were blowing in exactly the opposite direction," said
Alec. "Would it blow the river full of water?"

"That's exactly what it would do. When that happens the water sometimes
gets up over the pier you slept on. That's a couple of feet higher than
common."

"Whew!" whistled Alec. "That's like our spring-floods inland. Everything
gets covered with water."

"Pretty much the same thing," said the captain. "But we'd a good deal
rather have a high tide than one of your floods. High tides don't do so
much damage as your floods. And then the tides help us a great deal. But
they was more useful before the days of power boats than they are now.
In them days, if there wasn't any wind to blow your boat, all you had to
do was to wait for the tide to change, and you could go up-stream or
down without a bit of wind. But now that we use gasoline, we don't pay
much attention to the tide."

Alec glanced out of the window again. The chips and bubbles that had
been floating down-stream were now moving ever so slightly in the
opposite direction.

"Look!" he cried. "The tide's running in."

"Sure," said the captain. "I've been watching it. We'll be off pretty
soon."

Again the captain leaned out of his window and looked up-stream and
down. "Every last boat in the fleet is hung up," he said. "Never knowed
that to happen before. Some of 'em always gets through." He closed the
window and once more faced Alec. "What was you studying in school?" he
asked.

"I took the usual required work in high school," said Alec, "but I was
specializing in biology."

"What's that?"

"The study of life processes," replied Alec.

The captain looked blank. "What do you do in that study?" he asked.

"Why, you try to find out all about the life of an animal, how it is
born and how it grows and eats and multiplies. You dissect animals, and
you examine them under a microscope. In short, you try to find out all
about an animal's life, just as you oystermen probably do with oysters."

"Humph!" snorted the captain. Then he laughed aloud. "Now ain't that an
idea," he exclaimed, "watching oysters under a microscope! Young fellow,
we ketch oysters, that's what we do. We ketch 'em for people to eat."

"But I'm sure it would help you to study them, too. A man can't know too
much about the things he handles."

"If that's the kind of nonsense they teach you at high school, I'm glad
I never went to one. I can read and write, and that's enough learnin'
for any oysterman."

Alec made no reply, but the captain's remark had set him thinking. He
wondered if there were not an opportunity to apply his school training
in the oyster business. He knew that science had almost revolutionized
farming, and he wondered if the oyster business might not be somewhat
like farming was before the days of the agricultural colleges. But he
did not know, and he very wisely kept quiet. He determined that he would
look into the matter as he had opportunity.

He was silent so long that the captain suddenly remarked, "Never mind
what I said, lad. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"You didn't hurt my feelings," smiled Alec. "You just set me to
thinking."

"Tell me more about your life at Central City," the captain went on.

"Well, there isn't much to tell. My father worked for the electric light
company, and I belonged to the Camp Brady Wireless Patrol. But that
probably wouldn't interest you, any."

"You mean that you know something about wireless telegraphy?"

"Sure. I've got a little outfit with me in my valise. It isn't much of
an outfit, though, for I made it myself. But I can send and receive over
a pretty good radius, even if it is home-made."

The captain looked at Alec with evident admiration. "Do you mean you
made the set yourself?"

"Absolutely. I can install it here on the _Bertha B_ and take messages
for you, if you'll let me."

"It's a nice thing, wireless is," replied the captain, "but it wouldn't
be any use on an oyster-boat. Besides, it would be in the way. You see
how cramped we are for room. These boats was all right as long as they
stuck to sails, but they filled up the hold with engines and winders and
a lot of machinery when they turned 'em into power boats, and they ain't
big enough any longer. We can ketch twice as many oysters with power
boats as we used to with sails, and we don't have room to carry 'em when
we get a big catch. Some day they'll build oyster-boats of a new sort.
They'll make 'em bigger and higher and have room in the hold where we
can put oysters. Then we can catch 'em all winter."

"Don't you catch them in winter now?" asked Alec in astonishment, for he
distinctly recalled eating oysters all through the winter season.

"We have to carry 'em on deck," explained Captain Bagley, "and in cold
weather they freeze. Then we have to stop dredging. Your winter oysters
come from the Chesapeake, I reckon; at least in real cold weather. But
tell me some more about this Wireless Patrol. What was it?"

"Oh! Just a bunch of us fellows who had wireless outfits. We used to
talk to each other at night and listen in to all the news that's flying
about; and we used to go camping, too. When the war came, we knew enough
about wireless to be of some use. We caught the German dynamiters at Elk
City, and four of our boys helped the Secret Service in New York run
down the secret wireless of the Germans. One of our boys, Henry Harper,
is a government wireless man now, and Roy Mercer is wireless man on the
steamer _Lycoming_ running between New York and Galveston. Charley
Russell is a forest ranger back home in the state forest, and he got his
job largely because of his ability with the wireless. They're going to
install a wireless system in his section of the forest, it is so useful
in fighting forest fires."

"You don't say!"

"Sure. You see, Charley started as a fire patrol and he saved a tract of
the finest timber in Pennsylvania because he was able to call help
promptly with his wireless. He'd have had to hike twenty-four miles over
the mountains and back to get help if he hadn't had his wireless outfit
with him, and the fire would have got such a start it would have burned
up the whole tract before they could have stopped it. Oh! You can do
most anything with wireless. I'm sorry I can't use my outfit aboard the
_Bertha B_. I could string up my aerial between the masts, and I don't
believe my wires would be one bit in your way."

The captain smiled indulgently. "Wireless is all right, I know," he
said. "But we ain't got any use for it on an oyster-boat. Our business
is to ketch oysters."

"Don't you ever have accidents?" inquired Alec. "With so many ships
sailing in the same place, I should think you would have collisions
every day. Why, I should think the oystermen would almost come to
blows, like those gulls there fighting for table scraps."

"I don't quite get you," said the captain. "Why should we fight?"

"To see who shall get the oysters, of course. Suppose that ship over
there wanted to dredge in exactly the same spot you have in mind. How
are you going to prevent her from doing it? And where will you get your
oysters then?"

"Well, you are a landlubber, for sure," laughed the captain. "Why, no
other oysterman would dare come on my grounds. I'd send him to jail, if
he did."

"What!" cried Alec. "You don't mean that you own part of the oyster-bed?
I supposed the government owned all navigable waters. Our Susquehanna
River is a public stream."

"Right you be, lad. The government does own the Delaware Bay, but it
leases the oyster-beds, or at least land for oyster-beds, to private
individuals. Each oysterman has his own grounds, just as each of your
Pennsylvania farmers has his own farm."

"Are you kidding me?" asked Alec, mindful of the reputation sailors have
for spinning yarns.

"Not a bit," replied the captain. "I thought everybody knew that."

"But how could a man have an oyster-bed separate from all the other beds
in a big body of water like the Delaware Bay? Why, it must be miles and
miles in width. How could anybody tell just where his oysters were, in
such a vast expanse of water?"

"How could he tell?" snorted the captain. "How can a farmer tell where
his farm is, with so much land all around it?"

"Why, he'd fence it in, of course, or mark the boundary lines in some
way."

"Well, young fellow, oystermen have just as much brains as farmers. And
they are just as particular to fence in their own grounds, too."

Alec's face was blank for a moment. Then he smiled broadly. "Now you
_are_ kidding me," he said.

"Not for a minute," said the captain. "Do you see that boat over
there--the _Mary and Hattie_?"

"Sure!"

"Do you see those long poles she carries over her starboard rail, near
the stern? They're long saplings with all the branches trimmed off but
the top ones."

"I see them," said Alec.

"Well, those are the kind of markers we use to stake off an oyster-bed.
You see there are natural beds in the Bay, where the state won't allow
any dredging except to ketch seed-oysters for spring planting. But an
oysterman can lease as much land elsewhere as he wants and plant it with
oysters. The state surveys it and then the oysterman marks it off with
those poles. And if anybody but the owner dredges oysters in that ground
he'll get just what a fellow would get if he went into a farmer's field
and stole his crops. The oysterman owns every oyster in his bed."

"Honestly?" asked Alec, who was so much astonished that he forgot his
manners. "Why, I supposed that the oysters grew anywhere on the bottom
and that the oystermen just dredged wherever they felt like dredging."

"Humph!" said the captain. "There'd be a lot of oysters left in a few
years if we did that. The beds would be dredged clean. That's the way
they used to ketch oysters, and the state had to put a stop to it in
order to save any oysters at all. Why, the whole Atlantic coast used to
be covered with oysters, and now there's only a few beds left. This bed
in the Maurice River Cove is one of the most valuable in the whole
United States. But it wouldn't last long if the state didn't regulate
oystering."

"How does the state regulate it?" asked Alec.

"Well, there's the natural bed I told you about. That lies above what we
call the Southwest Line. Nobody dare dredge above that line except in
May and June to ketch seed-oysters. That gives the oysters in the
natural bed a chance to multiply from year to year, so as to provide the
necessary seed."

"But what's to prevent a boat from slipping in there and dredging
oysters on the sly? If the boats are scattered all over the Bay, and
each boat is busy dredging on its own ground, I don't see what's to
hinder a dishonest captain from stealing the state's oysters."

Captain Bagley lowered a window-sash and craned his neck, so he could
look up-stream. "See that long, low power boat up there?" he asked,
after running his eye over the fleet behind him. "That's one of the
guard-boats. The state has four of 'em. They're fast little craft and
they watch the fleet every minute. I think that's the _Dianthus_. She
knows just where every boat belongs, and if a fellow dredges on state
land or on some other fellow's ground, she'll nab him quick."

"Why, that's just like a police force," said Alec.

"That's exactly what it is. You see this oyster business has grown to be
a big thing. We shipped nine million dollars' worth of oysters out of
Bivalve last year, and the state ain't takin' no chances on having that
business wrecked. So the state keeps pretty close watch on us."

"Don't it make you kind of nervous, to be watched all the time?" asked
Alec.

"Lord bless you!" said the captain. "We ain't got no reason to be
nervous. We'd rather have that guard-boat there than not. It protects
our property when we're not around. Most of the oystermen in this fleet
is as honest as the day is long. They wouldn't touch another man's
grounds if you'd pay 'em. But we do have a few crooked ones, like any
other business, and they have to be watched. The guard-boats don't pay
much attention to the rest of us, but they keep pretty close tab on
skippers that are known to be dishonest. Hello! The _Dianthus_ is
moving. We'll see what we can do."

The captain leaned forward and rang his bell. The motor began to turn
and the ship once more vibrated. Slowly the _Bertha B_ moved ahead. The
captain swung her toward the channel. Around her the water was inky
black, where her propeller was churning up the mud. The water deepened
and the vessel gained headway. In a moment she was going smoothly. The
bar ahead had disappeared. The tide was rising rapidly. All about her,
other ships were starting or trying to start. Those with power forged
slowly ahead through the mud until they reached the centre of the
channel. A few that depended upon their sails alone were forced by the
wind to circle about before they could head toward the oyster grounds.
Everywhere the scene was one of animation. Ahead of the _Bertha B_ and
behind her, ships by the score were once more in motion. The water
sparkled in the light of the rising sun. And as the river widened into
the Bay, the water began to roll and billow under the strong sweep of
the rising wind.

On went the _Bertha B_. To her left stretched East Point, a long, low
finger of sand, reaching far out into the water, the square, white
lighthouse, surmounted by its round light tower, bulking huge against
the horizon. On the right stretched limitless reaches of brown
marsh-land. Behind her ran the serpentine river. And before her lay the
Bay, a waste of tossing water. As far as Alec could see, nothing else
was visible. It was his first sight of salt water, and he stood
entranced, fascinated by the picture of the tumbling waves, the darting
gulls, and the fair white ships, heading out to the oyster grounds, like
sheep on the way to pasture.




CHAPTER IV

DREDGING OYSTERS


Suddenly Sailor Bishop appeared on deck. He drew off the cover of the
forward hatch and dropped into the hold. Then broad-bladed oyster
shovels, oyster baskets, culling hammers, and other implements were
shoved up through the hatchway.

"I can help him with that," said Alec, and leaving the pilot-house, he
made his way forward. But the sailor was already out of the hold and
replacing the hatch cover. He grinned at Alec's offer of assistance and
said there was nothing to be done. Nor was there much to do. The
necessary shovels and baskets were placed amidship, where they could be
reached easily by the men at the dredges. Then the two stood side by
side on the deck, looking at the animated scene. The wind still blew
fresh and the air was cold. But with the warm coat outside of him and a
good breakfast inside, Alec was not the least bit chilled. The fresh air
was invigorating.

The members of the Wireless Patrol had always been told to keep their
eyes and ears open and their mouths closed; and Alec now tried to
practice what he had been taught. The oyster-dredges interested him
keenly. These were huge iron frames, shaped like wish-bones, with ends
that curved over like hooks, and that were connected by a straight iron
bar. This bar was armed with huge iron teeth, like those of a rake. This
toothed bar was intended to drag along the bottom and rake up the
oysters, as pebbles are raked together with a garden rake. The oysters
so caught were held in a bag or network, made of iron rings and links,
that was fastened to the frame of the dredge.

On either side of the ship lay one of these dredges, ready to be put
overboard. Immediately before each dredge, and mounted in the ship's
rail, was a horizontal iron roller, and just back of this was a vertical
roller. It was perfectly evident that the horizontal roller was intended
for use in pulling the dredge in and out of the ship, while the vertical
roller would revolve under pressure of the dredge chain as this paid out
after the dredge was tossed overboard. The chain, in each case, was
fastened to the apex of the dredge, or what might be called the top of
the wish-bone; and these chains, one from each side, led directly to the
winders amidships, which were simply revolving drums or spools of iron
that wound up the dredge chains.

Alec was more than eager to see the outfit work, but the ship went on
and on at full speed.

"How far do we have to go before we begin to dredge?" he finally asked
his companion.

"I reckon our grounds are about eight miles out," replied the sailor.

Alec opened his eyes wide, but said nothing. By this time they were far
offshore. They could still see the trees and haystacks on the meadows
but the shore-line was becoming more and more indistinct. The
oyster-boats had scattered in every direction, and now that the ships
had separated there did not seem to be nearly as many of them.

"There's Egg Island Light," said the sailor, pointing ahead to
starboard.

Alec looked, and finally made out what seemed to him a tiny, dark column
in the gray waves. With every minute the expanse of water widened and
the shore grew more indistinct. Suddenly Alec's attention was attracted
by something far ahead in the water. He saw at once that it was a little
cluster of saplings, such as he had seen lashed to the side of the _Mary
and Hattie_. Their bushy tops gave them the appearance of a tiny thicket
growing right in the water. Then he saw a second cluster of stakes, and
beyond them, at intervals, other stakes. All these little groups of
stakes were in a straight line, so that the effect was, indeed, not
unlike a long fence-row. As the _Bertha B_ drew nearer to the
oyster-beds, Alec could see stakes in every direction. Most of them, he
noticed, were just bare poles, that stuck out of water two or three
feet, like the tips of so many fishing poles. But some groups of stakes
were still bushy at the top, like the first clusters he had seen. He
asked his companion why two sorts of stakes were used.

"They was all alike when they was put down," said Sailor Bishop, "but
most of them have lost their tops. The waves and the ice and the
oyster-boats themselves break off the little branches at the tops,
leaving only the bare poles."

"Then why aren't all the tops broken and not just some?"

"Oh! Those bushy ones have just been put down. You see the oystermen
like to mark their beds well in the fall. It makes it so much easier to
find their grounds when spring comes."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, if this happens to be a cold winter, every pole in sight may be
broke off by the ice. If a skipper has put down fresh poles just before
winter, he can find his bed pretty easy when spring comes."

"How?" asked Alec in amazement. "How can he ever tell where his grounds
are if his stakes are gone?"

"Well, they won't be gone altogether. Just the tops are broke off. At
low tide there'll be some stumps sticking up. A skipper just sails out
and gets the range of his beds and then hunts for his stakes till he
finds them. Then he puts down new stakes."

"But how can he ever get his range, as you call it?"

"Oh! He knows his landmarks. You see Egg Island Light over there, and
just behind it that tall clump of trees? Well, if we had an oyster-bed
right here, that light and those trees would always be in a line when we
are over our bed. Now if he had some landmarks in this other direction,
too, a skipper could always tell when he was right on this spot, for
he'd have to have both sets of landmarks in line."

"Why, that's nothing but triangulation," said Alec. "We studied that in
school."

"I don't know what they call it in school, but that's the way a skipper
finds an oyster-bed when his stakes is gone."

"What I don't understand," questioned Alec, "is why the ice doesn't take
the stakes away altogether, instead of just breaking off the branches at
the tops of the stakes."

"Lord bless you, son! You couldn't pull them stakes up with a derrick."

"Why not?"

"Because they're down in the mud five or six feet and it holds them
tighter'n a porous plaster sticks to your back."

"How do you ever get them down so deep?"

"Oh! They go down easy as a rule. You just take a stake under your arm
and work it down into the mud. It goes down easy enough, but it won't
come out for nothing. Sometimes, though, when the mud's tough or the
bottom sandy, they won't go down nohow. Then we have to pump them down."

"Pump them down!" cried Alec in astonishment. "What do you mean?"

"Why, we fasten a hose to the sharp end of the stake, and the engine
sucks the mud or sand up through the hose as we work the stake down. I
tell you them stakes _never_ comes up!"

"Does it take long to stake out an oyster-bed?" asked Alec.

"Well, that depends upon the weather and the mud and a lot of other
things. If an oyster captain is too busy to put down his own poles, he
can get a stake sticker to do it for him."

"What's that?"

"Oh! There's lots of men with little boats, who ain't got money enough
to start oystering themselves, that make a business of putting out
stakes for men who have beds. They charge a dollar a stake, and in a
good day they can put down twenty-five or thirty stakes."

"Whew! There must be big money in that. I should think everybody would
become stake stickers instead of oystermen."

"It ain't as good as it sounds. A man has to own a boat before he can be
even a stake sticker. And he's got to hire two or three men to help him,
and pay for the poles as well. And then it's work that lasts only a
little while each year. So I reckon there ain't so much in it after
all."

"Likely not," said Alec. "It's like a lot of other things in life. The
less you know about it, the better it looks."

Just then the captain's voice was heard. "Hey! Kid! Come here."

Alec turned and saw the captain beckoning to him. He made his way back
to the pilot-house.

"We're almost to our grounds," said the captain, "and we don't want to
lose a minute. Pull on them oilskins. You can't ketch oysters in them
duds of yourn. You'd soon be soaked."

The captain pointed to a suit of oilskins hanging above his bunk. Alec
pulled the waterproof clothes, which were bright yellow in color, over
his other clothes, and exchanged his cap for the captain's sou'wester.
Then he took off his shoes and got into the captain's boots.

"Bishop will tell you what to do, young 'un," said the captain, "and be
darned careful about them winder chains. More'n one man's had his arm
took off in this fleet by winder chains."

Alec went forward. "What do you want me to do?" he asked the sailor.

"You help me handle this dredge. We pull it in this way," and he
indicated how he and Alec were to take hold of it. "And then we grab
them round rings and dump the oysters out on the deck. Then we shove the
dredge overboard again and go to culling. I'll show you how to do that
when we get some oysters. We're almost there now. See them four bunches
of stakes? They're the corners of our grounds."

"How big is this bed?" asked Alec.

"I reckon about ten acres, but Cap'n Rumford's got a good many other
beds farther out. I reckon he must have more'n a thousand acres of
oysters."

"Cap'n Rumford?" asked Alec. "Who's he? I thought our captain's name was
Bagley."

The sailor looked at Alec and laughed. "So it is," he said. "But he's
merely the cap'n of this boat. Cap'n Rumford's the owner of the outfit.
We're just workin' for him."

"Do you dredge all the oysters from those thousand acres?"

"Lord bless you!" laughed the sailor. "It takes a whole fleet to do
that. Cap'n Rumford has three or four boats going all the time."

"Isn't that an awful lot of oysters--a thousand acres?"

"I reckon it's just about the biggest oyster-bed down here. You're dead
lucky to start oystering with the Rumford outfit, lad. As long as you do
the right thing by the cap'n, he'll sure treat you white."

Just then the cook and the engineer came on deck. "Now me and you will
handle this dredge," said Sailor Bishop, "and Dick and Joe'll take care
of the other. Just git over on that side of the dredge. And watch them
chains. We're almost ready."

The _Bertha B_ passed one of the clumps of stakes that Sailor Bishop had
pointed out.

And at once, "Let go your dredges!" came the order from the pilot-house.

Alec and the sailor seized the starboard dredge by which they stood, and
Dick and Joe grasped the other; and both dredges shot overboard at the
same instant. The chains paid out against the vertical rollers with a
loud rattle. Alec stood silent, eagerly awaiting the first haul. He
wondered what would be in the dredge. The engine continued to churn up
the water, and the _Bertha B_ forged ahead, dragging her heavy, clumsy
dredges behind her.

"How deep is this bed?" asked Alec.

"About eighteen or twenty feet, I reckon."

"Are they all as deep as that?"

"No. Some of them ain't more than ten feet deep. It all depends
upon----"

Suddenly there was a loud, clanking sound in the hold. The chain of the
starboard dredge began to grow taut.

"Look out for that chain," warned the sailor again, as it began to reel
up.

Suddenly the dredge shot out of water and followed the chain over the
roller. Alec and the sailor grabbed it and shoved it to the deck. In
another second they had thrust the dredge back over the side.

The sailor picked up a culling hammer, which was very much like an
enlarged tack-hammer, and fell to sorting oysters. The very largest he
put in a basket by themselves. These were "primes," and there were few
of them. The remaining oysters, the "culls," he dropped into another
basket as fast as he could sort them out. Many old oyster shells had
come up with the dredge. These and the "rattlers" (oysters with cracked
or broken shells), the sailor raked into a little pile by themselves
with his culling hammer. The rattlers were detected by tapping the
shells with the hammer. They gave forth a hollow, rattling sound.

Alec dropped on one knee, in imitation of his companion, and also began
to cull the oysters. At first he was somewhat clumsy; but with a little
practice, he acquired considerable dexterity. In the heap with the
oysters were a few clams, a small crab, a conch shell, and an
evil-looking fish, that the sailor struck in the head with his culling
hammer and contemptuously called a "Cape May minister." When the sailor
had filled his basket with cull oysters, he dumped it in the middle of
the deck hard against the pilot-house. Then he dropped a single oyster
in a basket that stood in front of the winders. Alec filled his basket
and the sailor dumped it also and dropped another oyster in the basket.
It was the method of keeping tally.

Meantime the other dredge had come aboard, and Dick and Joe were also
hard at it. The captain, operating the dredges from the pilot-house,
brought up the dredges at frequent intervals. When the starboard dredge
chain began to wind up again, Alec and the sailor seized their shovels
and shoveled the old shells and rattlers overboard again. But try as
they would, they could hardly cull their pile of oysters before another
dredgeful came aboard. Alec observed that Sailor Bishop was much the
quickest of the three men at the dredges. He determined to watch him
closely and try to become just as expert himself.

Also he understood why the captain had had him don water-proof clothes.
The deck was adrip with water from the oysters, and every few minutes a
wave splashed against the side of the boat, drenching the schooner with
spray. Without the oilskins Alec would soon have been wet to the hide.

He found, too, that he needed more than oilskins to protect him. His
fingers were rapidly becoming raw, and he saw that they would soon be
cut to the bone by the sharp shells. His companions all wore rubber
finger-stalls and Alec sighed with relief when he found that he could
borrow some for his own fingers.

Presently Alec noticed that another oyster-boat was dredging in the
adjoining bed. As the two boats sailed back and forth, passing and
repassing each other, Alec couldn't help thinking how much like two
farmers they were, plowing in adjoining fields. The other boat was one
of the few ships in the fleet that still operated by wind power. Alec
thought her a beautiful sight as she heeled over before the sharp wind,
and sent the waves foaming from her bow and the spray dashing high. And
she was far more picturesque than the _Bertha B_, which spread no sails
at all. For this ship had all her sails set, and her steersman stood on
deck in the open, vigorously twirling his steering-wheel.

The day wore on. Monotonously the _Bertha B's_ propeller churned the
yeasty waves. The winders rattled and clanked. Regularly the dredges
came aboard and were dropped back again into the waves. The wind blew
fresh. The sun shone bright. The waves sparkled. The pile of oysters
before the pilot-house grew larger and larger. From time to time the
cook slipped into the cabin, and Bishop stepped across the deck to help
Joe with the other dredge. Now that he had acquired some facility in
handling the oysters, and his fingers no longer smarted with the salt
water, Alec enjoyed every moment. He didn't feel the least bit seasick,
and the cool, fresh air was delightful to breathe. But he could see that
in cold, stormy weather it would be anything but fun to work on the open
deck of an oyster-boat. Time passed faster than he dreamed. For suddenly
the _Bertha B's_ whistle blew. The oystermen stopped work as though they
had been shot.

"What's wrong?" asked Alec.

"Nothing," said Bishop. "It's time for dinner."

"But it _can't_ be noon yet," insisted Alec.

"It isn't. We eat dinner at ten o'clock on an oyster-boat."

"Well, I'm not sorry to hear it," said Alec. "It can't come too early
for me."

After dinner, dredging was resumed. By mid afternoon more than four
hundred baskets of oysters were heaped up on deck of the _Bertha B_.
Then the dredges were stowed aboard, and the ship headed for the mouth
of the river. From every direction other boats were making for the same
point. But this time there was no bar visible. There was water aplenty.
Up the river raced the oyster-boats, sometimes three and even four
abreast, every ship piled high with oysters. On the way up the river
supper was served. Before five o'clock the _Bertha B_ had reached the
oyster piers. She pulled on past them to a huge float, on which the
oysters were shoveled to allow them to lie in the brackish water to
fatten. Then the deck was washed and the implements stowed in the hold.
Captain Bagley headed the _Bertha B_ down-stream once more, and in a few
minutes she was moored snugly to the very pier on which Alec had sought
shelter the night before.

But it was a very different world to Alec. He had a warm place to sleep
on the _Bertha B_; he had all he could eat; he had a job; and he had
found friends. He didn't know yet how much his job would pay him, for it
hadn't occurred to him to ask. It was enough for the present to know
that he had work and would no longer have to go hungry. About his new
friends he knew almost nothing; but he felt sure they were going to be
friends, for they all had treated him in a kindly fashion. Concerning
his future he had as yet little idea. A few weeks previously it had
never occurred to him that he would ever be an oysterman. But now that
he had had a taste of oystering and had begun to get an insight into it,
he saw at once that it was entirely possible that he might become an
oysterman. He knew that men could rise in the oyster business as well as
in any other. Like the sensible boy he was, Alec told himself that he
would work as hard as he could, learn all he could, and earn and save
all he could. If he got ready for an opportunity, the opportunity might
come. Now that he did have to support himself, he meant to make the best
job of it he knew how.




CHAPTER V

EVENING AT THE OYSTER PIER


On the way across the river every man in the crew had pulled off his
oilskins, and now all were ready to go ashore.

"Come along with me, Alec," said Captain Bagley as he scrambled over the
rail.

The _Bertha B's_ pier, and all the other piers, were covered for the
greater part of their length by an enormous roof sloping up to the
building that extended along the landward side of the piers. This
building, hundreds of feet in length, was tenanted by the various oyster
shippers. Each occupied a small section of it containing wareroom and
storage compartments on the pier level, and office rooms on the floor
above. At every pier little openings, like tiny tunnels, led through
this long building to the wide shipping platform on the farther side,
where the trains were loaded.

Captain Bagley entered one of these tunnel-like passages, but half-way
through he stepped into a little wareroom, nearly filled with sacked
oysters, and mounted some narrow wooden stairs. Alec followed close at
his heels. The stairs led to the office of Captain Rumford, and that
individual was sitting behind his desk, addressing shipping tags. He
looked up as Captain Bagley entered, said "Hello!" and went on
addressing tags. Captain Bagley sat down in a chair, by the pot-bellied
stove in the centre of the room, and motioned for Alec to occupy a
second chair.

On the walls were hung pictures of boats, gaudy advertising calendars of
oyster shippers and ship-chandlers, with models of oyster-boats, that
Alec found very interesting. Oilskins hung on pegs and long boots stood
in a corner, showing that Captain Rumford was as well prepared for bad
weather as any of his sailors. Alec rightly guessed that sometimes he
went along with his boats to the oyster grounds.

When Captain Rumford had finished his tags, he laid down his pen, turned
away from his desk, and tilted back in his chair. "Well, Bagley, how did
it go to-day?" he asked.

"Not so bad, not so bad," replied Captain Bagley, "everything
considered. Looked bad for a time, though. That Hawley got drunk last
night and snuk off after he'd had his breakfast. But this kid turned up
and took his place. Then old Hardy fouled us and broke his bowsprit, and
that held us up so long we got stuck on the bar. Every boat in the fleet
got hung up. Bar was clean out o' water. Made us late gettin' out. But
we got more than four hundred baskets at that. Not so bad, eh? Not so
bad."

"Good enough, Bagley. Who is the lad?"

"Name's Alec Cunningham," said Captain Bagley. "Alec, this is Captain
Rumford."

Alec sprang to his feet, stepped to the captain's side, and shook hands
with him.

He knew at once that he was going to like Captain Rumford. The captain's
glance seemed to bore right through Alec. He felt as though the captain
could read everything that was in his mind. But there was a kindly
expression about his face that won Alec instantly.

"Where do you come from?" asked Captain Rumford. "I never saw you around
here."

"He come from up in Pennsylvania," said Captain Bagley, "and he's a
nephew of my old buddy, Thomas Robinson, that was drowned when the _Mary
Ford's_ anchor purchase parted last spring. His parents is dead and he
come here to find his uncle. Hit here last night without a cent and
slept out on our pier in them oyster sacks. Darned wonder he didn't
freeze to death."

"That's a shame," exclaimed Captain Rumford, "with so many bunks around
here he could have slept in. Why, there's half a dozen in this office."

"It didn't hurt me any," laughed Alec, "but it was cold." And a little
shiver ran down his back at the recollection of his chilly bed.

"Wonder where Hawley got his booze," said Captain Rumford presently. "He
was a pretty good man, wasn't he? What are you going to do with him?"

"Yes. He was a good worker, but I ain't got time to fool with that kind
o' cattle. I'll tell him to go aboard and get his things. I've got to
have men I can depend on."

Captain Rumford arose and began to pull on his overcoat. "Time to be
getting home," he said. "Just a word with you, Bagley, before I go." He
entered an inner room, followed by his ship captain. "Does this young
chap intend to become an oysterman?" asked the shipper.

"I don't know that, Cap'n," replied the master of the _Bertha B_. "He
was flat on his back when he struck here and would probably have taken
any job he could get. Hadn't had anything to eat for twenty-four hours."

"Well, he's got a good, clean face. I like the cut of his jib. Got lots
of grit, if I ain't mistaken. Looks as though he knew something, too."

"He's a wireless man. Got an outfit with him that he made himself. He's
had a high school education, too."

"He has, eh? Well, I've been sizing him up, and I thought he was a
clever lad. Got the making of a good man in him. How does he work?"

"Good! Mighty good. Took right hold like an old-timer. Just had to see a
thing done once, and he picked it up as though he had done it all his
life."

"Know anything about his habits?"

"No. But he don't use tobacco, and I'm pretty sure he never touched
booze."

"Well, take care of him, but don't spoil him. Put him through the mill
and see what he's got in him. If he's the lad I take him to be, we don't
want him to get away from us. It's hard to find really good men
nowadays. Well, I must get home. Now mind you don't spoil him."

When the two men came back into the main office Captain Rumford said
rather severely, "Young man, Captain Bagley wants to take you on as a
regular hand. He says he's going to fire the fellow who was drunk this
morning. I don't know about it. I don't know about it. It's a risky
thing to do, when we're so short handed. Jim Hawley is a good worker."

"Oh, sir, if only you will let me stay," pleaded Alec, "you'll never be
sorry. It's true I don't know anything about oystering yet, but I can
learn, sir. And I can and will work as hard as anybody. I need the
work--need it terribly. Please, sir, give me a chance."

"Well," said the shipper, "I make it a rule not to interfere with my
captains. Bagley says he wants you, and I suppose I shall have to humor
him. Your uncle was a great friend of his. But mind, you can't hold a
job on one of my boats just because your uncle was a friend of the
skipper. I'll give you a job. But it's up to you to keep it.
Understand?"

"Thank you, sir. Thank you," said Alec gratefully. "It's very good of
you to give me the chance. I'll try to make good, sir. I can learn as
well as anybody."

"Very well. We will see what you can do. Now I must be getting home, or
I'll have to account to Mrs. Rumford for this extra half hour."

The captain's face was as stern as ever, but there was a twinkle in his
eyes that belied the sternness. And the tone in which the skipper said,
"Good night, Bagley," confirmed Alec's first impression that Captain
Rumford had a soft heart under his somewhat rough exterior.

The three oystermen went down-stairs. Captain Rumford locked the door
and went to his automobile, parked on the farther side of the railroad.
Alec and Captain Bagley turned back toward the pier shed. To Alec, the
interview just ended seemed momentous. He had a job. He had a start in
life. But little did he dream what a part this half hour in the oyster
shipper's office was destined to play in his life.

It was still daylight, though dusk was at hand. "If it's all right,"
said Alec, "I'd like to look around a bit."

"Look as much as you like," said Captain Bagley. "But you'd better turn
in early. You know we have to be out to the oyster-beds by sunup. Hello!
There's Hawley now."

Alec waited to see what would happen. The big oysterman came swinging
along under the pier shed, just sufficiently unsteady on his feet to
betray the fact that he had been drinking again.

"Go aboard and get your duds," called Captain Bagley sharply, as the man
came up to him. "You can get what's due you on Friday when the rest are
paid."

"What do you mean?"

"You know well enough what I mean. Take your clothes out of my boat and
don't you set foot in her again."

The drunken oysterman leered at Captain Bagley. "You can't fire me.
You've got only three men left and there ain't another hand to be had."

"There ain't, eh? Well, here's one. He did your work to-day, and he's
going to do it every day. See? Now get your things out of the _Bertha B_
and be quick about it."

Instantly a change came over the oysterman. "Take the bread from an
honest man's mouth, would you?" he snarled, turning upon Alec. "Take his
job away from him, would you? You young pup, I'll fix you!"

His attitude was so threatening that Alec stepped back in alarm.

Captain Bagley grasped the sailor by the arm and spun him around. "You
get your clothes and get out here before you get in trouble," he said
sternly.

The oysterman swore viciously, but obeyed, and went shambling down the
pier to the boat.

"You'd better keep your weather-eye on him," said the captain. "I don't
believe he'd really try to hurt you, but he's a bad actor when he gets
drunk. So just watch him. I'll go aboard and see that he behaves himself
on the _Bertha B_."

Alec hastened to have a look at his surroundings before darkness came.
Although it was late in the day, there was still much activity on the
piers, for this was the rush season. In the slips between piers were
many square-ended scows, some loaded deep with oysters that were covered
with burlap sacks against a sudden cold snap, while others were entirely
emptied of their cargo, their sacks laid in neat piles amidships.

Still other scows were being unloaded. Mostly four scow men were at work
in each scow, counting and culling the oysters. As fast as the baskets
were filled, they were hoisted to the piers, where other men emptied
them into sacks and tossed the empty baskets back into the scows. Six
baskets filled a sack. The sacks were sewed up as fast as they were
filled, and trundled off on trucks to the waiting cars. Such rattlers
and empty shells as had gotten in among the good oysters were thrown in
little heaps in the centres of the scows.

Presently Alec saw a rough looking old fellow sculling a flat-bottomed
boat into a slip where some empty scows were floating.

"Can I have your shells, Cap'n?" asked the boatman of the shipper who
stood on the pier, sewing up the last of his sacks.

"Sure," said the shipper, and the old boatman began to shovel the shells
from the scows into his own boat.

"Now I wonder what he wants with those shells," thought Alec. Then,
following his rule, he decided to watch and see what the old fellow did
with them.

As there were six scows to clean, it was evident that it would take him
some time to get all the shells; so Alec walked on. He went past pier
after pier. On most of them, men were just finishing their day's work,
sewing up and trundling away the last of their oysters. On some piers
were great rows of barrels, such as had sheltered Alec from the wind on
Captain Rumford's pier. On practically every pier baskets were stacked
up like the barrels; and when Alec noticed how wet they were, he rightly
guessed that they were left out in the wind to dry. On some piers seines
were hung up on long poles that extended from rafter to rafter. Yawl
boats, most of them equipped with gasoline engines, floated in the
slips. And several had been stowed on piers. One by one the oyster craft
were tying up at the ends of the piers, so that the river began to
present as crowded an appearance as it had in the early morning.

At the end of the pier shed was a big blacksmith shop, with quantities
of dredges, anchors, and other boat equipment to be mended.

Alec went around the end of the pier house and started back along the
wide shipping platform. He was amazed to see that three lines of cars on
three parallel tracks stood ready to receive the day's yield of oysters.
Little, metal markers, labeled Scranton, Wilkes-Barre, Williamsport, New
York, and so on, were stuck in the doors of the various cars, to help
the men trucking the oysters get them in the proper cars. The strings of
cars reached the full length of the oyster sheds, which must have been
at least two hundred yards; and Alec saw at once that when the three
strings were coupled in one train, there would be considerably more than
a third of a mile of oysters going to market. When he remembered that he
had seen another train at the oyster sheds across the river, he suddenly
realized what an enormous industry this oyster business was, and what a
lot of money there must be in it for successful oyster shippers. It made
him more determined than ever to look into the situation well and see if
his opportunity in life might not lie right here.

As Alec walked along the shipping platform, his wonder grew. Here were
telegraph stations, butcher shops, ship-chandleries, where one could buy
almost anything needed aboard ship, and so on, as well as the offices of
the oystermen. Overhead swung the signs of the different shippers, and
Alec was interested in reading them. On these signs he saw many of the
names he had seen earlier in the day on the oyster-boats themselves; and
he guessed that many of these boats, like the _Bertha B_ and the _Mary
and Willie_, must have been named after members of the shippers'
families.

By the time Alec had completed the circuit of the oyster sheds, and
gotten back to the slip where the old man was collecting shells, it was
almost dark. The shell collector was just sculling his craft out of the
slip into the river. Alec walked to the end of the pier and saw that the
man was pointing his boat up-stream. Deciding to follow him on land,
Alec hurried along under the pier shed in pursuit.

Long before this the electric lights had been lighted, and Alec did not
realize how dark it really was until he had passed beyond the shed under
the open sky. At first he could hardly see anything. Once he glanced
back, and in the faint light from the pier shed made out the form of a
man behind him. As he went on, he heard footsteps coming close, but
thought nothing of it. He came to a little landing place built of a few
planks, that projected well out over the water. His eyes had now grown
accustomed to the dark, and he cautiously made his way out on this
landing, to look for the shell collector. He was surprised to hear a
tread behind him on the landing. Just as he turned to see who was
coming, there was a rush of feet on the planks, a hoarse voice cursed
him viciously, and in another instant powerful arms grasped him and
flung him headlong into the swirling tide.




CHAPTER VI

OVERBOARD IN THE DARK


Down, down, down into the chilling water went Alec. So confused was he
that he did not know which way was down and which was up. He opened his
eyes but the muddy water was inky black and he could see nothing. So
sudden and unexpected had been the attack that he had not had time even
to catch his breath before he sank beneath the water. Immediately he
began to suffer for air.

Instinctively Alec struck out, but after a few strokes he stopped
swimming. He was recovering his wits rapidly, and he realized that it
was worse than useless to try to swim until he knew in which direction
he was going. He might swim under a scow or boat and be drowned. It was
fortunate indeed that Alec ceased swimming when he did, for the tide and
his own efforts were taking him directly under a big oyster-float. The
instant he stopped swimming, the lifting force of the water shot him
upward. It was high time he got his head above water, for his lungs
seemed about to burst. He knew he could not hold his breath much longer.

With quick wit he raised his hands above his head the instant he felt
himself rising. And it was well he did so. Hardly had he lifted them
before he crashed into one of the great timbers of the oyster-float. The
impact almost broke his fingers; and although his hands lessened the
force of the blow, nevertheless he bumped his head so hard that for an
instant he was dazed. His extended hands alone had saved him from being
knocked senseless and drowned. For a second he lost control of himself
and swallowed some water. Sudden terror clutched his heart. He realized
that in another moment he might drown. Wildly, frantically, he clawed at
the timber above him. One hand met solid wood wherever it moved. But the
other shot upward into the free air. With his last remaining ounce of
strength Alec dragged himself from under the log that formed the edge of
the float and pulled himself up until his nose was above water.

Shuddering, gasping, gulping in both air and water, Alec clung to the
log desperately. Panic took possession of him. He tried to cry out, but
succeeded only in swallowing more water. Wildly he clutched the float
and tried to draw himself up on it; but the great round log, slippery
with mud and slime, gave him not the slightest finger hold. Almost
exhausted and nearly paralyzed with cold, he slipped back into the
water. But his hands still rested on the log.

Then he took a grip on himself and choked back the wave of fear that was
chilling his heart worse than the cold water was numbing his muscles.
He let his body sink in the flood until only his nose and eyes were
above water; and clinging to the log, he remained perfectly still for a
moment to recruit his waning strength. Meantime his mind and his eyes
were both busy.

By this time his eyes were free from water and accustomed to the
darkness. He could see fairly well. A hasty glance showed him a long
line of floats, oyster-boats, scows, and similar craft moored parallel
with the shore. He was in the smooth water between float and shore and
only a few yards distant from solid ground. With that realization a wave
of courage swept over Alec that seemed almost to warm him. For now he
knew he should get out all right. He had only to swim the little
distance between float and shore and he was safe.

Boldly he struck out, and a few strokes carried him close to the bank.
His foot touched bottom. He swam another stroke or two and put his feet
down to walk ashore. Then he gave a cry of terror as he felt himself
sinking down, down, down into the terrible, black, clinging mud. He
tried to raise his foot, but only sank the deeper. Already he was in mud
above his knees, and his nose was frightfully close to the surface of
the water. Through his head flashed the memory of the oyster stakes in
the muddy bottom of the Bay--six feet deep in the mud, so Sailor Bishop
had told him, and held so tight that they could not be pulled out. A
fresh wave of fear swept over him.

But he fought desperately to keep his wits. He realized that his broad
shoes would not go down into the mud like the sharpened ends of poles.
He stood perfectly still to see whether or not he was still sinking
deeper. When he realized that he was not, he could have shouted for joy.
The tide was running out, and the water would not come up over his head,
even if the mud did hold him prisoner for a time. But soon he realized
that cold could kill him quite as effectively as water. For now that the
fear of drowning had left him, he became conscious of the fact that he
was shaking all over and that his teeth were chattering terribly. He
must get out and get out at once. But how should he get out? He dared
not move, lest he sink deeper into the mud. And there did not appear to
be a soul anywhere around. There were no lights near. It was supper
time, and everybody had gone home for the night.

Suddenly he heard the steady put-put-put of a motor-boat coming up the
river. The sound drew near.

"Help! Help! Help!" cried Alec at the top of his voice.

But the boat continued to chug steadily upstream, its rhythmic
put-put-put-put drowning out all sound of Alec's feeble cries. Again and
again Alec called for help, but the boat went steadily on. It passed the
craft moored below Alec. It came abreast of the oyster-float. Still
Alec's cries were unheard. As the boat came directly opposite him, Alec
gathered his remaining strength for a last effort and fairly screamed,
"Help! Help! Help!"

There was a sudden commotion on the motor-boat. The steersman rose to
his feet and peered into the darkness. A second man shut off the engine.

"Hello!" hailed a voice from the boat. "Where are you?"

"Back of the oyster-float near shore," cried Alec. "I'm stuck in the
mud."

"Stand still and we'll get you in a minute," came the quick response.

"Put-put-put," went the little motor-boat again, and in another moment
it was alongside the float. A sailor leaped from the boat, with a coil
of rope in his hand. He splashed his way across the float, calling,
"Where are you?"

"Right here," called Alec, raising his arms above the water and waving
them in air.

"Catch this rope," answered the sailor, and a line came whizzing
straight into Alec's upraised arms.

"I've got it," said Alec.

"Tie it under your arms and hold fast."

Alec's hands shook so that he could hardly knot the rope, but finally he
had it fast about his chest. He grasped the rope at arms' length. "All
right," he cried.

"Heave ho!" sang the voice on the float. "Here you come, my hearty." And
the rope tightened.

Alec pulled on the rope as hard as he could, and worked his feet loose.
The instant he was free from the mud, he went skimming through the water
to the side of the float, where strong arms lifted him up.

"You didn't have much to go on," said the sailor. "It's a darned good
thing for you that the tide was running out instead of in. Who are you,
and how'd you come to get in the water? Been drinking?"

"My name's Alec Cunningham, and I belong on the _Bertha B_. Somebody
threw me overboard." Alec's teeth were chattering so that he couldn't
say another word.

"Drunk as a fool," said the sailor. "Bagley don't have any hand named
Cunningham. Wish I knowed where he belonged."

"I'm not drunk," said Alec, shivering more violently than before, "and I
do belong on the _Bertha B_. Just went to work this morning."

"Maybe he ain't drunk," said the steersman on the boat, as they stepped
aboard. "Maybe he does belong on her. We'll go see. We got to take him
somewhere darned quick or he'll freeze to death."

The motor-boat was headed down-stream and in a few minutes came
alongside the _Bertha B_. "Hello, Bagley!" called the steersman.

"Hello!" cried the skipper on the _Bertha B_, coming out on deck.

"Do you know a young fellow named Cunningham? Says he belongs to your
crew."

"Sure I do. What's happened to him?"

"We got him here. Just fished him out of the river."

"The deuce you did! Get him in here quick before he freezes."

Alec was helped aboard the _Bertha B_. He tried to thank the men who had
rescued him.

"Shut up and git in there by the fire," shouted Captain Bagley.

Alec hustled into the cabin. In all his life fire had never felt so
good.

"Boys," said Captain Bagley, "you saved a darned nice kid. How'd he git
in the water?"

"Says somebody throwed him in. Don't _look_ as though he was drunk,
though."

"No. He ain't drunk. And if he says somebody throwed him in, why,
somebody did. I'll find out about this. Good night." Captain Bagley
turned toward his cabin. "The old rip!" he muttered. "I knowed he was a
bad actor, but I never dreamed he'd attempt murder."

Then the captain was inside the cabin. "Strip them clothes off, quick!"
he called to Alec. Then turning to the engineer, he said, "What you
standing there for, Joe? Git the coffee-pot on and stir up the fire."

Captain Bagley seemed equal to any emergency. Before you could bat an
eye he had pulled the wet garments from Alec's shivering form and was
rubbing him with a rough towel. He rubbed until Alec's skin was aglow.
Then he dived into his bunk and from his locker drew out a clean suit
of heavy woolen underwear.

"Warm these," he said, handing the garments to Joe, while he himself
fell to rubbing and slapping Alec with his hands.

"Now git into them duds quick," he ordered, as Joe passed Alec the
underclothes, which he had been holding before the fire.

As Alec pulled on the warm clothes, the captain said, "Git this inside
you," and he poured out a cup of black coffee that was smoking hot.

Alec downed the draught, though it almost burned his mouth. The captain
poured another cup.

"Drink it," he said. Again he turned to the engineer. "See if Dick's got
any lemons in his cupboard."

The engineer found some. "Give 'em to me," said the captain. In a second
he had cut them in half and was squeezing out the juice. "Put a quart of
water over the open fire, Joe," he said.

Joe got the water. Captain Bagley poured the lemon juice into it, and
added some sugar. In no time the mixture was steaming.

"Drink it," said the captain.

"I'm full," said Alec. "I just had two cups of hot coffee."

"Shut up and drink it," said the captain.

As Alec took the proffered draught and began to sip it, the captain
roared, "Drink it!" And Alec downed the whole quart.

"Now stand just as close to the fire as you can. Joe, put on more
draft. Can't you get her any hotter?"

The stove was already cherry red, but that did not satisfy the energetic
skipper. Joe poked up the fire and Alec got as close to the stove as he
could. Soon he began to perspire profusely.

"Good!" said the oyster skipper, as he saw the beads of sweat gather and
run down Alec's face. "Now, you young rascal, tell us how all this
happened."

Briefly Alec related the story of his adventure.

"Who done it?" demanded Captain Bagley.

"I--I--I wouldn't like to say," said Alec, "because I am not absolutely
certain. I'd hate to accuse any man of attempting to commit murder
unless I was sure. I never really saw the man because it was so dark."

"Ain't you got any idea who it was?"

"All I've got to go on is the voice. I could hear that in the dark as
well as in the light."

"Had you heard it before?"

"Yes, sir. It sounded very much like the voice of the man you
discharged."

"I reckon you are right, youngster. I reckon you are right. I only wish
you was a little more certain about it. He ought to go to prison. But
I'd like to have sufficient evidence to make a case before I have him
arrested. Maybe I can find somebody who seen him in that neighborhood.
I'll scout around a bit and see what I can pick up."

"I wouldn't want him imprisoned," said Alec. "He didn't do me any harm,
even if he did try to."

"We don't know yet whether he did you any harm or not, and anyhow,
that's got nothing to do with it. We can't afford to have that sort of
cattle running at large."

Captain Bagley sat down and pondered over the matter for some time. "How
do you feel?" he asked suddenly.

"Pretty good," said Alec, "though my head aches something fierce. I
reckon it's from the bump I got."

"Well, that settles it. You don't ketch no oysters to-morrow."

"What do you mean?" asked Alec.

"I mean that you are not going out to the oyster grounds."

"Indeed I am," said Alec. "I'd be a nice sort of a pill to lay off when
you're so short handed, just because I got a ducking."

"Don't you give me any back talk," said the skipper, "or I'll throw you
overboard again. I know a lot more about falling into cold water than
you do. You may have a high fever by morning. And anyway, it's going to
be a darned nasty day. There's a storm brewin', and you'd more than
likely get sick. Then I would be up against it, wouldn't I, with only
three hands to work two dredges. I've got to have men I can depend
upon."

"You can depend upon me," protested Alec. "I'll work even if I am sick.
Won't you let me go, please? I just can't afford to lose a day. I need
the money so bad, sir."

"What for? You got a place to sleep and plenty to eat. Why do you need
money so bad?"

Alec turned his face away from the captain. "It's some bills I owe at
home," he said. There were tears in his voice, though he kept them out
of his eyes, and the captain forbore to question him.

"All right, lad," he said, in a tone of wonderful tenderness, "you shall
have your day's work. But you will have to do it ashore. I'll get one of
Zipp's men to help me and you can help Zipp."

"Who's Zipp, and what does he do?"

"Oh! That's Frank Jordan, the foreman of the scow gang. Zipp's his
nickname. He handles the oysters after we put them on the float. Now you
just stay by the fire and sweat, while I go to the office and talk to
the captain."

Captain Bagley let himself into the office with his key, turned up the
lights, and in a moment was talking to Captain Rumford over the
telephone.

"Sure," said the boss, when Captain Bagley had told him of Alec's mishap
and his plan for an exchange of men. "I'll call up Zipp right away, and
one of his men will be on hand in the morning. Leave the kid in the
office if you get away before Zipp gets there. We'll take good care of
him."




CHAPTER VII

A LETTER FOR ALEC


So it came about that when the _Bertha B_ sailed for the oyster grounds
next morning, Alec was not aboard of her. He passed a restless night in
his bunk, and was astir the moment Dick arrived to start breakfast. He
pulled on his clothes and set about helping the cook, who knew nothing
whatever about Alec's adventure. He raked the fire, put on fresh coal,
filled the coffee-pot with water from the cask on deck, and tried to
make himself unobtrusively helpful. His head still ached, and he did not
feel very well. In his secret heart he was glad enough that the captain
would not allow him to go out to the oyster grounds.

When he had eaten his breakfast, Alec went ashore with the skipper,
while the boats moored outside the _Bertha B_ were casting loose.
Captain Bagley opened the office and stirred the fire.

"Keep it warm in here," he said to Alec. "You can set and sleep in this
easy chair, or you can lay down on a bunk in the other room. Now take
care of yourself." And the captain was off.

For a time Alec sat by the fire, thinking over the events of the past
few days. Then he fell to meditating on what he ought to do with
himself. He had never had a consuming desire to do any one thing in life
in preference to all other tasks, as some boys have. Always he had cared
more for boats and the water than for any other form of sport; but it
had never occurred to him that boating might in some sense become his
life-work. Now the possibility seemed very real, and not at all
distasteful. But if he became an oysterman, he wanted to be more than
merely a deck-hand. He wanted to climb up, to be at the top of the
business instead of the bottom. When he remembered what he had been told
as to the difficulties of becoming an oyster-planter and of the large
amount of money required, he could see no way to achieve such an end. He
did not see how he could ever earn and save enough money to buy an
oyster-boat. Alec was a lad of good sense, however, and after
speculating about the matter for a time, he suddenly said to himself,
"This is all foolishness. You don't even know yet whether or not you
want to be an oysterman. If you do, the best way to succeed is to learn
all about the business you can. So you had better get out and make use
of your time, instead of loafing here."

He left the office and went down to the pier shed. Practically all the
oyster-boats had cast off and were on their way to the Bay. Alec could
see their lights twinkling in the darkness over a long stretch of river.
It was still too early for those who worked about the piers to be on
hand, so Alec had the pier shed pretty much to himself. He walked up and
down, looking at everything that interested him.

Presently the night-watchman came along, lantern in hand, and looked at
him pretty sharply. "Looking for somebody?" he asked; and Alec saw the
man was suspicious of him.

"Just waiting for Captain Rumford or some of his scow men," said Alec.
"I'm working for the captain. Went out on the _Bertha B_ yesterday, but
I'm going to work here to-day."

The watchman seemed satisfied. "You're working for a fine man," he said.
"There ain't none better than Captain Rumford."

Together they strolled along until they came to Captain Rumford's pier.
In the slip were four oyster scows, their bottoms littered with old
shells. All the other scows about had been cleaned and put in order.

"The captain won't like that," said the watchman. "That's twice lately
that nobody got his shells. He's the very deuce for having things
orderly."

"What do you mean?" asked Alec. "Was somebody supposed to take those
shells away?" And he thought of the old man he had been following when
he was thrown overboard.

"Sure. There are several fellows that collect 'em, and the captain
always gives 'em to the first fellow that asks for 'em, though old Pete
usually gets 'em. But the captain don't care who takes 'em, so his
scows are clean."

"What does anybody want old oyster shells for?" demanded Alec. "Why, I
saw an old man with a whole boat load of them."

"They want 'em to sell," explained the watchman. "Guess you don't know
much about the oyster business yet."

"Don't know a thing," said Alec. "Never saw an oyster-boat before
yesterday. I can't imagine how anybody could sell all the shells that
old fellow had in his boat."

"A fellow could sell a million bushels of 'em if he had 'em," said the
watchman. "You know the oyster-planters put these shells back in the
oyster-beds in spring. They buy 'em back from these fellows at five
cents a bushel."

"What!" exclaimed Alec. "The planters sow oyster shells in their beds!
Surely you can't grow little oysters from old shells!"

The watchman laughed heartily at Alec. "Of course you can't grow little
oysters _from_ old shells. But you can grow 'em _on_ old shells."

"I don't understand."

"Why, the little oysters--spats we calls 'em--just floats about in the
water after they are born, and if they didn't have anything to fasten
to, they'd all die and be lost. There ain't nothin' they can fasten to
on the mud bottoms, so the oystermen puts down old shells and the spats
makes fast to 'em."

"Well, I never!" exclaimed Alec. "There's a whole lot more to oystering
than I ever dreamed. I reckon what you say accounts for the way oysters
grow in clusters. We dredged up lots of clusters of oysters with four or
five oysters stuck together. And now that I think of it, I remember that
there were usually one or two old shells in each cluster."

"I reckon Captain Rumford will be right mad when he sees them shells in
the scows," said the watchman. "I heard him giving Pete--that's the old
fellow you spoke of--the deuce only last week for not getting the scows
clean on time. You see, it's the rush season. Help is short, and it's
all the captain can do to keep up with his orders. Now these scows will
have to be cleaned before any more oysters can be fetched."

"Then I'll clean them," said Alec, and getting some baskets, he dropped
into the nearest scow. The watchman moved on about his work.

In no time Alec had the scow clean and her burlap sacks piled neatly in
the centre. He hoisted his baskets of shells to the pier and tackled the
next scow.

Captain Rumford was on hand before any of his men came. "Who put those
shells there?" he demanded, noticing the baskets Alec had placed along
the edge of the pier.

"I did, sir," said Alec, somewhat fearfully.

"You did! Where did you get them, and what did you do it for?"

"I got them out of the scows, sir. They hadn't been cleaned."

"The deuce they hadn't. That's twice Pete has left my scows full of
shells within two weeks. We've got to have some better method of getting
rid of old shells. Can't stand this. Busy as all fiddlesticks and our
scows full of shells when we come to work.

"Say, boy," said Captain Rumford after a moment's pause, "who told you
to clean out those scows?"

"Nobody, sir. I thought it would help along with the day's work and I
did it. I didn't know what else to do with them, so I put them in the
baskets I found here."

"You've got some sense, lad. Keep on that way and you'll be an oyster
shipper before you can vote."

Zipp and his two scow men soon arrived. The captain lent Alec his boots,
which were far too large for Alec, and one of the scow men gave him a
reefing-jacket. A motor-boat lay in the slip. Zipp started the engine,
while the other men made fast the scows, and soon the little party was
chugging off to an oyster-float. The four scow men sat in the motor-boat
and the scows were towed behind. With great oyster-forks, somewhat like
enlarged spading forks, the gang shoveled the oysters from the float
into the scows. It was hard work, for the forks were large and the
oysters heavy. When the oysters were all taken up, the scows were towed
back to the shipping pier and made fast in the slip again. Then the
counting began.

Zipp showed Alec how to count his oysters, two at a cast. The four
counters dropped to their knees and began work. But Alec paused for a
moment to watch his companions. He saw that Zipp could count oysters
faster than either of the two other scow men, just as Sailor Bishop
could cull them faster than either Joe or Dick. Alec watched Zipp
closely, to see how he worked. Then he set himself to the task of
learning how to count fast. He still had the finger-stalls he had worn
the day before and the sharp shells did not hurt his fingers in the
least. In a little while he was making the oysters fairly fly.

Basket after basket, the oysters were shoved up on the pier, where other
workers emptied them into sacks. Captain Rumford himself sewed the sacks
up and kept a watchful eye on things. In no time, there was a long row
of sacks standing ready for shipment.

"Just keep track of the number of baskets that lad hands up," whispered
the shipper to an assistant. "We'll time him for an hour." Thus Alec
underwent another test, though he was altogether in ignorance of the
fact that his work was being watched.

At every pier men were counting oysters, while other men filled the
sacks and trundled them off to the waiting freight-cars. The place was
as busy as a beehive, yet there was no noise or confusion. No swearing,
no loud talk, disturbed the general quiet. Only the rumble of the
trucks, as men trundled the sacked oysters over the plank floor, rose
above the subdued hum.

"Hour's up!" said Captain Rumford, glancing at his watch, after a time.
"How many baskets did the kid count?"

"Seventy-seven."

"The deuce he did! Why, that's ten thousand oysters. Of course Zipp's
crew average about 11,000 an hour, but they're the best crew here. The
average counter won't handle more than 8,000 to 9,000 an hour. The kid's
quick."

Presently the skipper got his shipping tags and tied them on the sacks.
Then a man with a truck began to wheel the sacks away to the cars.

Dinner time came. All hands went up to the office to eat their lunches,
about the warm stove.

"Here," said Zipp, seeing that Alec had nothing to eat, "have a
sandwich."

"No. Thanks," said Alec, rather diffidently. "I am not very hungry." But
his eyes belied his tongue.

"That won't do at all," said the skipper. "Take this and run over to the
hotel and get a good square meal."

Alec protested. The oyster shipper shoved a dollar into his hand.

"Now run along, quick," he said, "for we've got to get right back to
work as soon as we can. And none of us can work without food."

Alec was glad enough when Captain Rumford insisted, and taking the
money, he hurried away to get his dinner. The long table fairly groaned
under the array of good things, and every diner was free to eat as much
as he liked. For the first time in his life, Alec ate oyster potpie; and
wished he could hold more. His dinner cost him seventy-five cents, and
Alec began to understand how fortunate he was to be eating aboard the
_Bertha B_. Even if his pay should prove to be small, he could still
save something, and he needed money desperately.

Alec intended to give back to Captain Rumford the twenty-five cents left
from his dollar. But the men were already in the scows when he got back
and Captain Rumford was up in his office. Alec went to work, and forgot
about the quarter.

All the afternoon Alec worked as fast as he could make his fingers fly.
He was working alongside of Zipp, one of the most expert oyster counters
at Bivalve; and it provoked Alec that he could not hand up the baskets
as fast as his fellow. But try as he would, he could not fill the basket
as rapidly as Zipp did. The oysters were all counted and sacked before
the _Bertha B_ came chugging up to her pier. Alec went aboard her as
soon as she made fast, and the cook considerately gave him his supper.

Then Dick went off to buy supplies for the next day. Alec asked if he
might go along. They got a roast of meat, some sausage, canned beans,
butter, bread, condensed milk, and other articles.

Captain Bagley, meantime, had gone to the office to make his daily
report to Captain Rumford. That done, he started for a store to buy a
cigar, when the postmaster hailed him. "Say, Cap'n," he said, "you don't
know anything about a party named Cunningham, do you? I've got a letter
addressed to an Alec Cunningham, care of Thomas Robinson. You and
Robinson used to be such pals I thought you might know something about
it."

"You've come to just the right place. That's Robinson's nephew. He's a
member of my crew now. I'll just get that letter and give it to the
kid."

When Captain Bagley returned to the _Bertha B_ Alec was sitting alone in
the cabin.

"Here's a letter for you, Alec," said the skipper.

Alec tore the letter open and ran his eye over it. Tears came into his
eyes, and he bowed his head on his chest.

"What's wrong, lad?" asked the skipper, kindly.

Alec could not trust himself to reply. He merely thrust the letter into
the skipper's hand.

Captain Bagley read the communication and frowned. "He's pretty much of
a skunk," he said.

The letter was an imperative demand for the balance due on the tombstone
Alec had ordered for his father. Unless this were first received, the
letter said, the stone would not be set up.

"I judge you paid him something?" said the captain questioningly.

"Paid him half the price. It took every cent I had. That's why I landed
here without a penny. And that's why I need money so bad. Oh! I must
get it somehow. I must! I must!"

"Now, don't you worry about this," said the kindly oysterman. "We can
fix it up for you somehow."

But Alec refused to be comforted.




CHAPTER VIII

ALEC'S FIRST LESSON IN OYSTER-CULTURE


Morning found Alec refreshed in body, but not entirely relieved in mind.
He had loved his father dearly, and the thought that his father's body
lay out in the cold, bleak cemetery without even a headstone to mark his
resting-place, troubled Alec sorely. The very least he could do in
memory of his father, it seemed to Alec, was to erect a marker above the
grave.

To do this, he had gotten together all the money he could, and given it
to a Central City monument dealer with the understanding that the latter
was to set up the stone Alec selected and Alec was to pay the balance
due on the stone as soon as he found work and could earn the money. But
like many another man, this one had taken advantage of youth. He had
pocketed the money without carrying out his part of the bargain. That
was bad enough. But Alec now felt no certainty that the stone would be
erected after he had paid for it in full; and that was worse still. So
it was a very much troubled and worried lad that tumbled out of Alec's
bunk when Dick arrived to start breakfast.

It was fortunate for Alec that he possessed such a helpful disposition.
He found a number of things to do for the cook. He stirred up the fire,
got water for the coffee, punched holes in the condensed milk can, cut
the bread, and made himself generally useful; and in work he found
relief from his troubles. He could not keep his mind on his work and his
troubles at the same time; and he had to keep it on his work.

And when breakfast was over and he had dried the dishes, there were so
many things he wanted to ask the captain about. All that he had learned
about oyster-culture was so interesting it made him want to learn more.
And by this time he realized that there was much, much more to know.

"Captain Bagley," said Alec, when the _Bertha B_ was fairly under way,
"the pier watchman was telling me that the oystermen spread old shells
over their oyster-beds for the young oysters to attach themselves to.
How can oysters move about in the water? I should think their shells
would keep them on the bottom, even though they are very small. Why, a
grain of sand can't float, and see how much smaller that is than an
oyster."

"Yes. It's smaller than a grown oyster, but many times as large as a
brand-new oyster. And besides, oysters just born don't have any shells."

Alec looked sharply at the captain, but could not detect the faintest
twinkle in his eye. "Honest?" he asked. "You're not stringing me?"

"Not a bit of it, son. Why, a new-born oyster is so small you can't even
see it."

"Now I _know_ you're teasing me."

"Indeed, I am not. You have to have a microscope to see an oyster that
has just been born. They _have_ to be very small, for a single oyster
gives birth to millions of little ones. These don't have no shells at
all. And then the tide sweeps 'em in and out, so I reckon they get
scattered pretty much everywhere in the neighborhood of the
oyster-beds."

"But how do they grow fast to old shells and other oysters if they have
no shells themselves?"

"Oh! They get shells quick enough. And as soon as they do, they sink to
the bottom and fasten themselves to the first clean rock or shell they
come to. If they don't hit a rock or shell, they sink in the mud and
die. Of course, there ain't no rocks on our mud bottom, and that's why
we have to put shells on the beds. And we no sooner get the bed covered
with shells than we have to scrub 'em, to get the mud off of 'em."

"Scrub them!" exclaimed Alec. "What do you mean?"

"Can't you understand English? I mean just what I say--scrub 'em, to get
the dirt off."

Alec still looked incredulous. "How?" he demanded.

"Oh! We drag the dredges over the beds without any bags on. It scours
'em off pretty well. They are pretty clean before we get through."

"But is it really necessary? Did anybody ever see a tiny oyster make
fast to an old shell?"

"I don't know, son. But I know this: We have to make sure our shells is
clean. We wait till the oysters is about ready to tie up to something
and then we scrub the shells."

"My gracious! If there are so many little oysters and you put down so
many shells to catch them, I should think there would be more oysters
than you would know what to do with."

"Does seem that way, don't it? Fact is, though, that mighty few of them
little ones ever gits to be oysters."

"Why not?"

"I reckon it's largely on account of what doctors would call 'infant
mortality.' All sorts of things eats 'em. Mussels, and clams, and
barnacles, and old oysters, and turtles, and worms, and sea-squirts, and
drills, all eat oysters at some time or other. Down east the starfish
plays hob with the oyster-beds. We don't have many of them things here,
and I'm glad of it. If we did, I don't know how we'd ever raise any
oysters. Why, even as it is, we don't get more than one oyster out of
every six we plant."

"How do you know?"

"Why, we know how many bushels we plant and how many we ketch when
they're old enough to be dredged. We plant about 500 bushels to an acre
and we'd like to plant a thousand if we could get 'em. They're about the
size of your thumb nail and there's about 700 to 900 seed-oysters in a
bushel. By the time we dredge 'em we won't get more'n a basket for every
bushel we planted. How many's that? You ought to know. You counted
oysters all day yesterday."

"A basket contains 68 casts," said Alec proudly, "and that's 136
oysters."

"Correct. And if you multiply that number by six, you'll have just about
the number of seed-oysters in a bushel."

"If the loss is so great, I should think you would plant the full
thousand bushels per acre instead of five hundred."

"We would if we could get 'em, son. But you know we get our seed-oysters
out of the natural beds, and we can't dredge there except in May and
June, between sunrise and sunset each day. We get all we can, of course.
And then we buy some from the bushelmen."

"What are they?"

"Oh! Fellows that have small boats but no beds. They dredge what they
can get and sell the seed to planters."

"They're something like the stake stickers."

"Most of 'em are stake stickers. They ketch seed-oysters in spring and
stick stakes in fall."

"I should think they'd get enough money to have their own oyster-beds
after a time."

"Some of 'em do, but there ain't much money in oysters unless you have a
good equipment. Why, a first-class oyster-boat, with up-to-date engine
and machinery, is worth fourteen or fifteen thousand dollars. And then
there's your scows and floats and motor-boats, and a lot of other
things. Why, a pair of dredges alone is worth $150. And then after you
do get a bed and plant it, you've got to wait three years before your
oysters is big enough to ketch. Why, a fellow's got to have nearly
enough money to retire on before he can make a start in the oyster
business."

Alec looked very sober. "I believe there isn't any use of a fellow like
me trying to become an oyster-planter," he thought. "I couldn't earn and
save fifteen thousand dollars--ever."

"Think you'd like to be an oysterman?" asked Captain Bagley, looking
searchingly at Alec.

"I don't know," said Alec. "I've got to do something, and I think I like
oystering as much as anything I ever saw. But I want to get to the top
if I become one."

"Well, the best way to get to the top is to start at the bottom--and
work. The oyster shippers are always on the watch for bright young
fellows that know the business and ain't afraid of work. Many a fellow
has worked himself up to a partnership in an oyster firm that started
just where you are--at the bottom."

By this time the _Bertha B_ was nearing the oyster grounds. Alec got
into the captain's oilskins again and was in his place on deck when the
captain gave the word to let go the dredges.

This time Alec needed no instructions. He took hold like an old-timer.
He was working with Sailor Bishop again, and once more he set himself to
try to learn his companion's trick of culling oysters fast. He grew
more and more expert as the hours passed, and was soon able to keep pace
with Joe and Dick, neither of whom was very quick; but to save him, Alec
could not fill his baskets as fast as Bishop filled his. One reason for
Bishop's speed, Alec found, lay in the sailor's huge hands. His fingers
were the longest Alec had ever seen. The sailor often picked up three or
four oysters at a time. And long practice had made him so expert that he
could often detect a rattler without having to tap it with his hammer.

In a little while the novelty of the work wore off, but still Alec found
plenty to interest him. His work in biology had given him a keen
interest in all forms of life. The marine life about him was new, and
Alec found continual delight in the contents of the dredges. Now a crab
was brought up. Again some curious fish like a "toady," as ugly and
venomous in appearance as Shakespeare's land toad, came flopping on the
deck; but apparently it had no redeeming jewel in its head, for the
sailors treated it with supreme contempt. Sometimes a king-crab was
caught in the dredge--a curious, brown, horseshoe-shaped creature, with
a long, straight tail of shell. And often there came tumbling aboard
oyster drills, which looked like tiny conchs. There were quantities of
sponge-like plant growths and red moss, like scarlet seaweed. And once
there was real excitement as a huge turtle came flopping aboard. It must
have been two feet in diameter, with clusters of barnacles on its shell
as big as one's fist, and a terrible beak that could take a finger off
at a single snap.

"Now we'll have some turtle soup," said Sailor Bishop, as he turned the
creature on its back and shoved it out of the way.

Before Alec knew it, the day's work was done, and the _Bertha B_ was on
her homeward way. In an old dead tree that stood by itself in the salt
meadow Alec saw what looked like a mass of driftwood; but the captain
said it was an osprey's nest. Alec studied the distant nest through a
telescope the captain lent him. It was a huge thing, three or four feet
in diameter, made of old sticks. Later still Alec saw an osprey soaring
not far astern of the _Bertha B_. Even as he watched it, the huge bird
suddenly tilted downward and fell like a plummet into the water. A
moment later it rose from the waves, with a glistening fish in its
talons. On every hand there seemed to be new and interesting things to
see.

The next day Alec had his first touch of seasickness. The wind was
blowing half a gale when the _Bertha B_ reached the oyster grounds, and
the little boat jumped about in a way that at first alarmed Alec
considerably. But when he saw that the sailors regarded the movement of
the ship as a matter of course, he forgot his fear. Soon he forgot
almost everything else; for his head began to ache, and a feeling of
nausea came over him. He had never felt worse in his life. He thought he
was going to die but did not seem to care.

"What's the matter?" asked Sailor Bishop. "Getting sick? You look
pretty pale."

"I won't get sick if I can help it," said Alec to himself. "I'm going to
fight this thing off."

His head seemed to be in a whirl, and he was afraid to try to stand up,
lest he be pitched overboard. So he knelt on the deck, braced himself
against the movement of the ship, and kept working. Whenever he could,
he straightened up and drew in a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air.
The air made him feel better. He tried to think about his work and not
about himself. And after a time he felt noticeably better. Before the
day was past the feeling of nausea had left him entirely, and never
thereafter did he suffer from seasickness.

Being a Friday, it was pay-day, though Alec did not know it. When the
_Bertha B_ again lay at her pier at the end of the day, the crew did not
hurry ashore as they had done every other day, though the captain left
the boat the instant she was fast. Presently he returned with a roll of
bills in his hand. He counted out each man's pay and handed the money
around. Then the sailors left fast enough. When they were gone, the
captain turned to Alec.

"How much do you think I ought to pay you?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Alec. "I didn't make any bargain with you. I don't
know what I ought to get."

"I'm going to give you ten dollars," said the captain. "You worked only
four days. Next week, if you put in a full week, I'll give you more. The
deck-hands on this boat get $17.50 a week, but I gave them $20 this week
because they did a mighty good week's work. You'll get just as much as
you make yourself worth. Captain Rumford pays his men well. If you keep
on as good as you've begun, you'll soon be getting as much as any of the
other hands."

"Thank you," Alec replied. "I'll try. Oh! I'll do my best, for I need
the money so badly. It's going to take me a good many weeks to earn all
I need." And he went over to the stove and sat down on a chair, bowing
his head in his hands.

"I wish that Hawley would come get this," muttered Captain Bagley to
himself, as he counted out the money that was due the discharged sailor
and laid it in his own bunk.

His own money he made into a little roll, including with the greenbacks
a check that had come to him by mail. Then he put a little rubber band
around the roll. After a second's hesitation he wrapped Hawley's money
about his own, added another rubber band, and dropping the roll in his
bunk, started to change from his working garb to his street clothes.

"The deuce!" he said suddenly. "I forgot to ask Captain Rumford about
them dredges. I hope he ain't started for home yet."

Captain Bagley darted out of the cabin like a streak of lightning, and
ran across the pier to the office. Zipp was there and he told Captain
Bagley that Captain Rumford had just left. Captain Bagley could catch
him before he got to his automobile. The lithe skipper flew down the
stairs and raced up the shipping platform. He overtook the shipper, and
a long conversation followed. On his way back to his boat, Captain
Bagley was called into a ship-chandler's, and a full half hour elapsed
before he got back. To his surprise there was not a soul aboard. Alec
had disappeared. The money the captain had left in his bunk was also
gone.




CHAPTER IX

UNDER A CLOUD


For a moment the captain stared blankly into his bunk. Then, "The little
rip!" he cried. "I never would have believed it of him. Seemed such a
nice, clean kid, too."

Energetic in all things, the captain began to fire up. His anger
mounted. If he could have laid his hands on Alec just then, he probably
would first have trounced him roundly and explained afterward. But not
having Alec to chastise, he began to swear at him. Presently the captain
cooled off, as he always did, and his better nature came to the top.

"Poor kid," he muttered. "He was just worried sick about his dad's
tombstone. He wouldn't do such a thing under ordinary circumstances.
Don't be too hard on him, Bagley. And remember, he's your old pal's
nephew."

Before long the captain decided he would say nothing about the matter
and pocket his loss. Then that same sense of loyalty to his friends made
him decide that he ought to tell Captain Rumford. It would never do for
the shipper to have a thief around without knowing it. Of course Alec
wouldn't be around, Captain Bagley realized, for he would discharge him
the instant he set eyes on him.

"I'll tell the captain right away," he said to himself. "He'll be home
by this time."

Captain Bagley hurried to the office and let himself in with his key. He
got the shipper on the telephone almost immediately. Despite his fiery
nature, Captain Bagley possessed great discretion. "Cap'n Rumford," he
said, "there's been some crooked work going on down here. I don't want
to talk about it over the 'phone, but I'd like to tell you about it."

"I'll be right down," telephoned the shipper. "I'm almost through
supper, and you can look for me as soon as I can get there."

Captain Bagley sat down to wait for the shipper. The latter lived in a
village only a few miles distant, and his motor-car carried him back to
the office in no time.

"What's wrong, Bagley?" he said anxiously, as he came into the office.

"Nothing to worry about, Cap'n, but something that'll disappoint you. I
notice that you took a great fancy to the new hand."

"Yes. He's a fine lad. He's going to make a good man."

"Well, I am sorry to tell you he's skipped with my week's pay and the
money that was due Hawley."

Captain Rumford's face turned black as a thunder-cloud. "Have you any
notion where he skipped to? We must catch him, even if it costs more
than he took. I try to treat my men right, but I'll be hanged if I'll
let anybody rob me." The shipper was now as angry as his oyster captain
had been a little while previously.

"I haven't any idea where he went."

"How did it happen? How did he get hold of your roll?"

"Why, him and me was the only two aboard the _Bertha B_, and I laid my
money in my bunk while I was changing my clothes. Then I happened to
think about them dredges, and I bolted out to ketch you, without a
thought about the money being there. When I got back both the kid and
the money was gone."

"Looks like a plain enough case," said the shipper. "Do you know of any
reason why he should steal? He looked as honest as sunlight."

"Yes. There was a very particular reason. He's been worrying about money
ever since he got here. Showed me a letter he got about his father's
tombstone. Seems he paid a marble man to put a stone on his father's
grave. Gave him every cent he had, but that was only half the price. The
man agreed to put the stone up and wait for the balance of his money
until the lad could earn it. But he played the kid dirt. Wrote him he
wouldn't put no stone up until he had every cent. The kid seems to have
thought everything of his dad, and it worried him sick. The last thing
I heard him say was that it would take him an awful long time to get
that money earned."

"It's a plain case, I guess. That explains why he didn't give me my
quarter," and the shipper told Captain Bagley of his giving Alec a
dollar to get a meal and of Alec's failure to return the change.

"What are you going to do about it, Cap'n?" inquired Skipper Bagley. "It
ain't fair not to----"

At that instant a footstep was heard on the stairs. The door opened, and
in walked Alec.

"So you thought better of it, did you?" said Captain Bagley.

Alec looked puzzled. "Thought better of what?" he asked.

"Now don't try any bluffs on us," said the shipper tartly. "Be honest
and admit you stole the money and we may overlook it. We understand that
you were in trouble and needed the money badly."

Alec was almost dumb with astonishment. "Admit that I stole the money!"
he cried. "I don't understand what you are talking about. I never stole
a cent from anybody."

"Come, come!" said Captain Rumford sharply. "Don't make the matter worse
by lying about it."

Alec's eyes blazed. "See here," he said angrily. "I don't care if you
are the biggest oyster shipper in Bivalve. You shall not call me a liar.
I didn't take your money or anybody else's. You've got to take that
back. I won't stand it. I'm not a thief and I'm not a liar."

Captain Rumford sat sharp up in his chair and fastened his keenest
glance on Alec's face. His look seemed to bore right through the lad.
But Alec never flinched. He looked straight into the captain's eyes
until the shipper shifted his gaze to Bagley.

"Cap'n," said the oyster shipper, "if that lad's a liar, he's the
nerviest one I ever met with. He's the first man that ever lied to me
and looked me square in the eye afterward."

"See here," said Alec, trembling with anger. "I demand an explanation. I
tell you I am neither a liar nor a thief; and you have no right to call
me one."

"Well, that's a simple matter," said the shipper. "Captain Bagley left
you alone in the cabin of his boat with his pay-roll, or what was left
of it. When he came back, you had gone and the cash had disappeared. The
captain says you had very great need of money and were worrying about
how you could get it, when he left the boat. Have you any explanation to
make?"

"I can explain everything," said Alec. "It's true I need money. Oh, sir,
you don't know how badly I need it! My father did everything in the
world for me, sir, and it will take me weeks and weeks to earn even a
little tombstone to mark his grave with."

Alec paused to try to get command of his voice. Tears were streaming
down his cheeks. "I loved my father with all my heart," he continued.
"Do you think I would disgrace him by being dishonest? He always taught
me to be honest and honorable above all things, sir. Do you think I
would do the one thing that would hurt my father if he were alive?"

Once more Alec wiped his eyes as he paused. Then, choking back a sob, he
continued: "I did not take the money, sir. I never knew until this
minute that it was in the captain's bunk. I was so troubled I couldn't
think of anything but how long it was going to take me to earn that
gravestone. When Captain Bagley ran out, he startled me. I remembered I
owed you a dollar, and I came straight here to pay you, sir. I meant to
give you your change the other day, but you were in the office here when
I got back from the hotel and I had to get right to work. Then I forgot
it until after you went home. Here is the dollar now, sir, and I'm much
obliged to you for the loan."

"Was anybody here when you came to pay me the dollar?" asked the
shipper, again eyeing Alec sharply.

"Yes, sir. Zipp was here."

"Did you say anything to him?"

"Yes, sir. I asked for you, and he said you had just left and that
Captain Bagley had run after you. I didn't want to interrupt any talk
between you and Captain Bagley, so I did not try to overtake you, sir."

The oyster shipper turned in his seat and picked up his telephone. "345
R," he said to the operator.

A moment later he said, "That you, Zipp?" Then, after a pause, "Did the
new deck-hand, Alec Cunningham, come to the office after I left?" Again
there was a pause. "He did, eh? Did he say anything to you?"

Alec held his breath while Zipp answered. "Asked for me, did he?"
repeated the captain. "And you told him I had gone and Captain Bagley
had run after me."

The shipper hung up his receiver and turned to Alec. "Well, that story
is straight enough. Where have you been the rest of the time? And what
did you do?"

"I walked up the shipping platform and looked into several cars that
were being loaded. Then I went to the post-office and asked if there was
a letter for me and got a stamped envelope and a money-order for $8.75
to send to that tombstone man. Then I started back to the _Bertha B_. I
saw the office door was still open, when I passed, and I came up to see
if I could get an old envelope or a piece of paper to write on. Here's
the envelope and the money-order, sir."

"Very good," said the shipper. "But still you have not offered any proof
that you didn't take the money. If you didn't take it, who did? You were
the only person in the boat after Captain Bagley came ashore. How can
you get around that?"

"And you have no proof that I did," replied Alec, his indignation
rising again. "You don't even try to be fair. The _Bertha B_ was at her
pier for more than half an hour without a soul on watch. A dozen men
might have gone into her cabin in that time. You've got to prove that
nobody was aboard of her before you've any right to accuse me of
stealing the money."

"Don't tell me what I've a right to do," said the shipper, a little
nettled. "Leave the room and don't say a word about this to anybody."




CHAPTER X

ALEC'S DECISION


Bitter, indeed, were Alec's thoughts as he stumbled down the office
stairs. Blinding tears stood in his eyes. His heart seemed dead within
him. He felt sick all over--sick and indignant. Ever since he was a tiny
child his father had taught him that his honor and his good name were to
be treasured above all things. Never before had anybody even suspected
him of dishonesty. Now he was worse than suspected. He was both accused
and practically condemned. For it was perfectly evident to Alec that the
oyster shipper still doubted him.

As Alec turned the situation over in his mind, his indignation grew
fiercer and fiercer. He told himself that Captain Bagley had no right to
leave the money in the ship's cabin, as he did; and Alec was right. He
told himself that Captain Bagley should have told him to guard the
money, when he rushed off after the shipper; and again Alec was right.

"I was free to come and go," said Alec to himself, "and Captain Bagley
had no right to assume that I would stay on the _Bertha B_ all the
time, when there is so much that is interesting to see and learn. Why,
anybody can walk into any of these boats at any time, and Captain Bagley
knows that as well as I do. And if somebody dishonest came aboard and
nobody was in the cabin and some money was lying loose, what could the
captain expect? It wasn't fair for him to do what he did. It wasn't
fair. He never said a word to me about his money and now he holds me
responsible for its loss. It isn't fair! It isn't fair!"

In deep distress Alec walked up and down under the pier shed. He saw
nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing, but his own distress.

"And I was trying so hard to be helpful and to show my appreciation of
Captain Bagley's kindness," said Alec to himself. "Kindness! Bah! Let
him keep his kindness for others. What I want is justice. I'll leave him
and his old boat and go where people will treat me fair. That's all the
kindness I want--just a square deal."

In his bitterness Alec was himself unjust. With the inexperience of
youth, he reasoned that because he had been questioned as to his honesty
he had necessarily been condemned. He failed to see that his employers
owed it to him as well as to themselves and all the other oystermen to
find out who was the thief. Necessarily they had to question Alec first,
for circumstances certainly did point to him.

The more he brooded over the matter, the more indignant he felt. "I
won't stay here another minute," he said. "I won't have anything to do
with men who have so little fairness." And he headed for the _Bertha B_
to get his valise and the few poor possessions in it. But half-way down
the pier he stopped abruptly. A new idea popped into his head. "If you
go aboard the _Bertha B_ and take your things, and anything else should
disappear, they'll say you stole the thing and ran away."

He pondered over the situation. "Run away!" he muttered. "That's just
what you were about to do. An honest man doesn't run away when he's
under fire. He stays and fights. Why, if I had run away, they'd never
have doubted that I was the thief. Gee! I'm glad I thought in time." And
Alec fairly shivered at the thought of what would have happened had he
foolishly gone away.

"I'll fight," he muttered. "That's what I'll do. I'll show them I'm as
honest and square and smart and able as any man that ever walked these
planks. That's what I'll do. I'll be an oysterman, too. That's settled.
I'll be a planter and shipper, too. I'll be just as big a man at Bivalve
as Captain Rumford or anybody else. I'll show them what Alec
Cunningham's got in him. I'll work and work and work and study and study
and save my money, and some day I'll have the finest oyster-boat that
sails out of this port. And I'll call her _Old Honesty_, too. And she
won't be any old-fashioned sailing boat done over. She'll be an
up-to-date oyster-boat, scientifically made. Captain Rumford will have
to scrap his whole fleet when my new boat gets to work. He'll find it
was a costly thing to call me a thief, that's what he will."

Now all faintness of heart had gone from Alec. The feeling of sickness
had left him. He was all aglow with determination and purpose. He felt
that the die was cast. He had made up his mind. He felt as strong as
Atlas, as indomitable as Jupiter. In his vision he saw the delectable
goal, but he could not see the hard and painful path that led up to it.

Nor was all this as foolish as it might seem to many an older head.
Dreams are the thing that accomplishments are made of--dreams and work.
Often the faith and enthusiasm of youth are more effective than the
coldly reasoned acts of maturity. And now, though eventual success was
no whit nearer than it had been a few moments previously, Alec felt
immensely better in mind. He had come to a decision. He had mapped his
course. He meant to keep his job, if that were at all possible, and
fight. And he meant to fight until he got to the top.

Now his footstep was no longer stumbling. He walked with a firm tread.
As he strode up and down the pier, his heart was beating the call to
arms.

Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. On the adjoining pier was Hawley.
Although it was now dark, Alec could see him plainly in the glow of the
pier shed's lights. There could be no mistake as to the man's identity.
Where he had come from, Alec had no idea; nor had he a much clearer
idea of where the man was going, for Hawley, plainly intoxicated, was
reeling about uncertainly. And he was dangerously near to the edge of
the pier. He was on the ferry pier, where the tugboat from across the
river landed its passengers; and no oyster-boat had tied up at the end
of this pier. Beyond its edge was only deep, dark, cold, swirling water.

At sight of Hawley, a feeling of hatred leaped into Alec's heart. He
wanted to rush over to the pier and attack this man who had tried to
kill him.

Suddenly Alec's heart stood still. The drunken sailor, reeling at the
very edge of the pier, stumbled over a coil of rope, and fell backward
over the string-piece, bellowing like a mad bull. Then there was a
splash and silence.

For a single instant Alec stood as though rooted to the floor. For one
second he exulted at the disaster that had overtaken his enemy. Then a
shudder ran over him as he realized that in thought, at least, he was a
murderer, and that was a million times worse than being a thief.

"Help! Help!" he cried at the top of his voice. "Man overboard at the
ferry landing!"

At the same time he rushed to the end of the pier and looked right and
left for a trace of the missing sailor. In the darkness he could see
only inky water.

Now he heard men running on the plank floor. "A light!" he cried. "Bring
a light!"

In a moment the watchman was beside Alec with his lantern. Behind him
came running the shipper and Captain Bagley. Alec seized the lantern and
threw himself prone on the wharf. He held the light over the
string-piece, while he looked right and left into the muddy water.

"Know who it was?" asked Captain Bagley, as he peered over Alec's
shoulder.

"Hawley--drunk," said Alec briefly.

"The deuce!" exclaimed the skipper. "That's the end of him. He can't
swim."

There was a swirl in the water a little way out from the pier. An arm
and a shoulder writhed into view, then sank. Like a flash Alec was on
his feet. He dropped the lantern on the pier, tore off his coat, and
plunged headlong toward the swirl in the water.

In a moment his head popped up. "A rope!" he cried, then sank beneath
the tide. The water began to foam and bubble. For an instant the
struggling men came into view. An arm was around Alec's neck and another
about his body. The men on the pier saw that he was struggling
frantically in the clutch of the drowning sailor. The fight was
terrific. Hawley clung to the lad with the strength of a giant, choking
and strangling him. Alec worked frantically to get his arms free,
treading water desperately to keep his head up. He swallowed quantities
of muddy, salt water. Under the awful pressure about his neck, his eyes
seemed to be fairly bulging from his head. Swiftly the tide swept the
struggling men toward the next pier, where a row of oyster-boats lay
fast. If the water carried them under the boats it meant the end of Alec
and Hawley.

Captain Bagley raced around to the adjoining pier and out on a boat.
Then he darted over the knighthead and lowered himself on the chains
until he was level with the water.

"Bring that light, quick!" he cried.

The aged watchman hobbled to him as fast as he was able. Captain Rumford
picked up the coil of rope, carried it swiftly aboard the boat, and made
ready for a cast.

The tide swept the struggling sailors nearer. With all his power Alec
was trying to free himself from the grip that was strangling him. His
strength was almost gone. He could no longer see anything. His head was
pounding. His brain seemed to swirl. But he tried desperately to keep
his wits. He knew that unless he got free it would all be over in
another moment. Now he wrenched his arms loose. Down under the tide sank
the struggling men again, churning the water to foam in their struggles.

"Oh God!" cried Captain Bagley. "If only I could swim."

Above him the watchman steadied the light, while the shipper stood
tense, the looped end of the hawser in his hand, ready to make his cast.

Down, down, down went the fighting sailors. But now Alec had his arms
loose. With his last ounce of strength he shoved his hand over the arm
that was strangling him and gripped the sailor by the nose. With his
other hand he dealt him as savage a blow as he could in the pit of his
stomach. The effect was magical. The sailor loosened his strangle hold
and doubled up like a jack-knife. Alec grasped the man by the hair, and
with all the strength left in him, struggled upward. His head popped out
of water not ten feet from Skipper Bagley. The sailor, now unconscious,
came to the surface. Alec could do no more. He turned on his back and
tried to float. It seemed to him that he could not even wriggle his
fingers. He was on the verge of unconsciousness himself. Yet he kept
tight hold of Hawley's hair.

Then a voice that seemed to be almost overhead put new life in him.
"Catch this rope," it said, "and slip it under your arms."

There was a splash in the water and the rope fell across his very
fingers. Mechanically he grasped it. But he could not get it around his
body. He slipped his free arm through the noose. Gently the rope
tightened and he moved ahead through the water, the unconscious sailor
trailing behind him. In a second Captain Bagley had him by the coat
collar. Then the noose was slipped under both of Alec's arms.

"Easy now," cried the skipper, as he held himself on the chains with his
legs, keeping Hawley's head above water with one hand, while he steadied
Alec with the other. Strong arms pulled on the rope, and in a moment
Alec was safe. Then the rope was made fast about Hawley, and shortly his
prostrate form lay on the deck.

Captain Bagley tore off his own coat and wrapped it around Alec. "Run to
the _Bertha B_," he said, "and get them wet things off. Stir up the fire
and get something hot inside you."

"In a m-m-m-minute," said Alec, his teeth chattering. "We've g-g-got to
save Hawley first."

"You get out of this," thundered the oyster shipper. "We'll take care of
Hawley."

He grabbed the unconscious sailor by the heels and lifted him straight
up. Captain Bagley drew down the man's tongue with his handkerchief.
Water gushed from the sailor's open mouth. The watchman squeezed the
man's ribs to try to press out more. Then they laid him on his back and
began to pump his arms up and down.

"That's too fast," cried Alec, who was making haste slowly and watching
them from the pier. "Fifteen times a minute is right, and you ought to
press in his ribs when you pull down his arms."

"You get aboard the _Bertha B_," shouted Captain Bagley, "or I'll heave
you overboard again."

"We've got to get him out of this cold air," said the shipper, for in a
few minutes Hawley began to breathe. "Let's take him into the cabin of
this boat."

The watchman led the way with his lantern, while the two captains
carried the bulky form of the sailor down the companionway.

"Get his clothes off," said Captain Rumford.

Captain Bagley began to strip off the wet garments. Somehow Hawley's
pocket-knife had worked up above his belt, taking the trousers' pocket
with it. Captain Bagley could not loosen the belt buckle. He drew his
own knife and started to cut off the offending pocket. The sailor's
knife came tumbling out. After it slipped a tiny roll of round, green
paper with a rubber band about it. For an instant Captain Bagley seemed
paralyzed. Then he grabbed the roll and tore off the band. A number of
wet greenbacks unrolled under his trembling fingers. Inside of them was
another roll of bills, also fastened with a rubber band. Inside of all
was a check. The ink on it had run, but the captain was still able to
read the name on the check. The check was payable to Captain Christopher
Bagley.




CHAPTER XI

A WIRELESS TELEPHONE


For a moment the oyster skipper was like one struck dumb. Then his usual
explosive nature asserted itself.

"That's where my money went," he burst out, holding up the severed
pocket. He leaped to his feet. "You look after this scoundrel and don't
let him get away. I'll go take care of the lad. We gave him a rough
deal."

Captain Bagley was out of the cabin and aboard the _Bertha B_ in no
time. He found Alec shivering by the fire. Without a word the skipper
helped him peel off the last of his wet garments, and once more he set
to rubbing Alec with a rough towel. As he rubbed, he talked.

"Lad," he said, "we done you wrong. The missing money was in Hawley's
pocket."

Alec was too much astonished for words. The skipper mistook his silence.
"I want you to let bygones be bygones. Will you?" He held out his hand.

Alec grasped it warmly. "It's all right," he said, "and we'll forget it.
But I was pretty much cut up for a time. I realize now how bad things
looked." Then, after a moment Alec asked, "How is Hawley? Thank God! I
went after him. Now you _know_ I'm honest."

"We know more. We know you're a mighty brave lad. There ain't many
fellows around here who would take a chance like that to save a fellow
who had tried to murder them."

"I don't seem to get warm," said Alec.

The captain rubbed him more briskly than ever. Still Alec remained
chilly.

"Guess you'd better put on warm clothes and get right into your bunk,"
said the skipper, poking up the fire and shoving the coffee-pot over the
warmest griddle.

Alec pulled on some clothes, then wrapped himself in a reefing-jacket
and lay down on his bunk, drawing some heavy quilts over him. Still he
shivered. The captain remained with him, dosing him from time to time
during the night with hot drinks that he brewed on the stove. But this
time nature was to take her toll. Morning found Alec with a high fever.

The instant Captain Bagley was satisfied that Alec was going to be ill,
he telephoned Captain Rumford. Bivalve, which was nothing but a shipping
port with practically no residences, possessed no physician. Captain
Rumford said he would bring his family doctor down with him; and before
many hours passed the physician stood by Alec's bedside.

"You'll have to take mighty good care of this lad if he is to escape
having pneumonia," said the physician, after testing Alec's pulse and
temperature. "It's a wonder the shock didn't kill him outright."

"If his condition is so serious as that," said the shipper, "he ought to
be in a good home where he can have proper care."

"He should. If you were willing to take a deck-hand into your house,
Captain, you would be doing an act of real charity."

"Not charity," said the phlegmatic shipper slowly. "Justice. We owe a
lot to that lad."

That was all Alec ever heard Captain Rumford say by way of explanation
or apology. He was a man who often found it difficult to express himself
in words; but he had other ways of expressing himself, as Alec was soon
to learn. Even the little he had said was much for him to utter. But
little as it was, Alec had heard the statement, and it made him feel a
great deal better than any of the doctor's medicines did.

For though he was speedily whisked away to the shipper's home, where he
had the best of care, his illness was severe. Chills and high fever
seized him alternately. So severe had been the shock of the two
exposures that his system could not seem to rally and throw off the
heavy cold that had seized upon him. Ten days passed before Alec was
pronounced fit by the doctor to take his place on the deck of the
_Bertha B_.

Irksome enough those ten days seemed to Alec; yet they were probably as
profitable a ten-day period as he ever spent in his life. For not a day
passed that Captain Rumford did not spend considerable time in the
sick-room. In those ten days Captain Rumford came to know Alec better
than he would ordinarily have known him in a year.

"Alec," he said one day, "did you know that the man who fell overboard
was Hawley--that is, did you know it before you went over after him?"

"Yes, sir," said Alec.

"You were morally certain he had tried to kill you, and yet you went
overboard after him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because he _had_ tried to kill me."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"I mean--I mean," stammered Alec, with burning cheeks and downcast eyes,
"that for an instant I was glad he had fallen overboard. Then the
thought came to me that in my mind, at least, I was a murderer, and that
was a million times worse than being the thief you believed me to be. I
couldn't stand it, sir. The thought drove me wild and I had only one
idea--to save Hawley at any price."

Captain Rumford stared at Alec fixedly. Here was a degree of fineness he
had never before encountered in a human being. "He's true as steel," he
thought to himself. Aloud he said merely, "I see," and paused in
thought.

"What became of Hawley?" asked Alec suddenly.

"Oh! He's all right. Bagley was for having him put in prison at first.
Then he cooled down, gave the fellow a deuce of a blowing up, and ended
by finding him a job--just like the captain. Looks as though the fellow
is trying to brace up, too. He'd be a good oysterman if he'd stay sober.
By the way, have you made up your mind what you are going to do with
yourself?"

"Yes, sir," said Alec emphatically. "I'm going to be an oysterman." But
he did not tell Captain Rumford when he had come to that decision or
why.

"Do you have any definite plan in mind?"

"No, sir. I've got to learn more about the oyster business first. But
I'm going to know everything there is to know. And I'm going to have an
up-to-date outfit. No old done-over schooners for me. I'm going to have
an oyster-boat that is an oyster-boat."

The captain smiled ever so faintly. "What is it going to be like?" he
inquired.

"Well, it will be bigger and higher and faster and have more hold room
than any oyster-boat now in the fleet. And it will be equipped with
wireless, sir."

The lurking smile vanished from the captain's face. "Where did you get
those ideas?" he demanded.

"Partly from hearing others talk and partly from my own observation."

"If you ever do," said the captain, "I reckon you'll make a lot of ship
owners scrap their boats. They can't compete with an outfit like that.
How are you expecting to get the money for a boat like that? Don't you
know it will cost a lot more than the present type of boat, and goodness
knows that costs enough."

"The minute I finish paying for my father's gravestone, sir, I'm going
to begin saving for that boat. If these ordinary workers around here
earn a thousand to twelve hundred dollars a year, working ten or twelve
hours a day, as I understand they do, I can earn a lot more working
sixteen hours, can't I? And I can save most of what I earn."

"So that's your plan," observed the shipper, without comment. Then he
thrust his hand into his breast pocket and drew forth a letter. "Your
mention of your father's gravestone reminds me that I have a letter for
you." And he handed the envelope to Alec.

"You have made a mistake," said Alec. "This letter is addressed to you."

"I know. But it is really for you."

In wonderment Alec opened and read the letter. Moisture came in his
eyes. "Oh, sir, how can I ever thank you?" he cried.

The letter was from the Central City monument dealer in reply to a sharp
note from the shipper. It said the stone had been set up and that the
dealer would be glad to have the remainder due as soon as Alec could
forward it. Alec did not know it, but the captain had practically
guaranteed the payment of that money. It was his method of making
amends.

When Alec grew a little stronger and could get about a little, but was
still far from able to go aboard ship, he began to grow very restless.
Finally he asked if he might have his wireless outfit. The shipper got
it for him. The outfit interested everybody in the household, especially
the shipper's daughter Elsa, who was one year younger than Alec.
Following his instructions, she made a single-wire aerial between a
near-by tree and the window, brought the lead-in wire into the room
through an insulating tube, and ran the wire round the edge of the room
to a table beside Alec's bed. Then she ran a ground-wire to a water pipe
and helped Alec wire up his outfit.

Necessarily this was of the simplest possible sort. There was an old
Ford spark-coil, half a dozen dry cells, a spark-gap, a transmitting
condenser, a helix, a transformer, a crystal detector, headpiece, and
key. All these were of the simplest and cheapest sort. Most of them Alec
had made himself; and though they did not look so nice as the bright,
shiny instruments to be bought of manufacturers, they answered the
purpose quite as well. As Alec and Elsa wired the spark-gap to the
transformer, the transformer to the condenser, the condenser to the
spark-coil, and added the key and the cells, Alec explained how messages
were sent in varying wave-lengths, and how it was possible to listen to
one message and tune out other messages of different wave-lengths.

"If only I had a little more powerful battery," said Alec, "I could
talk to my old chums at home. I believe I can easily talk to the big
steamers out on the Atlantic, and I'm going to try it. You know one of
my chums is Roy Mercer, wireless man of the steamer _Lycoming_. His boat
will be coming up the coast from Galveston in a few days and I'm going
to try to get into communication with him. Won't he be surprised to find
that I am down in New Jersey and in a fair way to be a sailor myself."

Elsa was fascinated by the wireless. When Alec picked up some of the
messages that were flying through the air in the evenings, and copied
them down for her, she was so excited she could hardly keep her mind on
her lessons.

"If only I could understand what it means," she said, as she sat
listening from time to time with the receivers strapped to her ears.

"That's easy," smiled Alec. "I can teach you and you'll be able to learn
in a few weeks."

"But you won't be here in a few weeks," sighed Elsa, "and besides I want
to communicate by wireless right away."

"The only way to do that," said Alec, "is to have a wireless telephone.
But I don't have the instruments. They cost more than a wireless
telegraph set, too."

"What would you use?" asked Elsa.

"If I just had a good storage battery instead of these dry cells, a V.
T. socket and bulb, some B batteries and a telephone block to add to the
instruments I already have, we could receive wireless telephone
messages O. K. And it wouldn't take very much additional equipment for
us to be able to send wireless telephone messages. Some day when I have
the time and the money, I'm going to make and buy a complete outfit.
With that, I can hold a conversation with any one else who has an outfit
within range."

"Wouldn't that be wonderful!" cried Elsa. "Just to think of it! If I had
an outfit here and you had one on the _Bertha B_ we could talk to each
other no matter where you were, whether you were tied up at your pier or
out on the Bay! It would be wonderful."

When Alec looked at the bright face before him, with the flashing, blue
eyes, pink cheeks, red lips, and curly brown hair, he, too, thought it
would be wonderful. He also thought it would be worth quite as much as
some of the dollars he might earn and save. Very quickly he decided that
he could wait a few hours longer than he had expected for his ideal
oyster-boat, and put those hours into the making of some wireless
telephone sets. Of course they wouldn't look as nice as store goods, but
they would be quite as effective; and when he and Elsa were talking to
each other through miles of space and over leagues of tumbling water, he
knew neither one would remember or care about the looks of their
instruments. What they would be concerned about would be instruments
that talked. That, he suddenly thought, was just what the shipper
wanted and the _Bertha B's_ captain wanted, and everybody else
wanted--dependability, whether in men or instruments. It wasn't the
varnish on the outside that made a man or a wireless instrument worth
while. It was the quality of performance that came out of that man or
instrument.

Alec had almost fallen into a day-dream when he was recalled by Elsa's
voice. "Dad's crazy about music, you know, and nobody in the family
knows one note from another. He promised me a fine piano on my next
birthday if I'd learn to play it, but I don't want the old piano. I'm
going to ask him to get me a wireless telephone set instead."

"If you get it," said Alec, "I'll make and buy the pieces I need to
convert this outfit into a first-class telephone set. Then we'll be
fixed. If your father won't buy you the set, then I'll make all the
pieces I can for you, and we can manage to buy what is lacking. You know
a fellow can make almost everything except the receivers and the
battery."

In one respect Elsa was like Captain Bagley. To think was to act. No
sooner had she decided to ask for a wireless telephone set than she made
her request. She came back with a long face. Her father would none of
it.

Alec became thoughtful. "If I just had those few pieces I need to add to
this set," he said, "I believe I could make your father change his mind
in regard to the matter."

"How?" cried Elsa.

"I believe if he once listened in with a wireless telephone, he'd want
one himself."

"Impossible!" cried Elsa. "He's as set as Gibraltar in his ways. Why, it
was years before we could get him to install an ordinary telephone, and
he wouldn't get a motor-car until years after everybody else here had
one. And I know he thinks this wireless set of yours is all nonsense."

"I'd bet a dollar to a doughnut he'd change his mind if I could just get
a telephone set while I'm here."

"What is it you need? Tell me again."

"A good storage battery, a V. T. socket and bulb, some B batteries and a
telephone block."

"Would a battery from a Ford car answer?"

"That's exactly what I want."

"Well, I have a Ford runabout, you know, and I take care of it myself.
Dad kicks about it every time I come in smeared up with grease. But he
can't stop me. I'll get that battery charged and uncouple it and bring
it up here. And I've got enough money to buy those other things unless
they're too awful expensive."

"They don't cost so much," said Alec. "It's the battery that's
expensive."

"Tell me again what they were. Wait. Write it down."

Elsa brought a piece of paper and a pencil. Alec wrote down his list.
Then he thought the matter over carefully. "Yes," he said, "those are
all the pieces I need, though I ought to have a second set of
receivers. They'd fix us up all right. If you get them, we can hear
well, especially if the battery is freshly charged. We'll use them while
I'm here, and after I go you can keep them as part of the set I'm going
to make for you."

Elsa left the room. Presently Alec heard the purring of her motor-car.
Then he sat in silence for a long time. Finally he heard a motor-car
drive into the yard. Not long afterward Elsa came into the room,
struggling with her Ford battery.

"Had it recharged," she panted, "and got all the things you wanted."

"Then we'll wire them right up," said Alec.

"I'm awful sorry, but I have to attend a rehearsal for our class play. I
can't stay now."

Alec wired up the instruments himself. It was early evening, and
atmospheric conditions seemed ideal for wireless communication.

"Now we'll see what the outfit will do," said Alec to himself, as he
clamped a pair of receivers on his head and threw over his switch.

For a long time he listened and worked, tuning and adjusting his
instruments. At first there was a frightful whistling and wailing in his
ears. But gradually he tuned it out, eliminating all but the sounds he
wished to hear.

"Now I guess I can handle her O. K.," muttered Alec.

Just then a voice came ringing through the air. "This is WJZ
broadcasting. We will begin our concert this evening with the sextette
from Lucia, rendered by singers from the Metropolitan Opera Company."
Then, after a moment's pause, "Stand by for three minutes."

"Captain Rumford," called Alec loudly.

"Hello! What is it?" came the response from below.

"Won't you come here at once, please?"

Captain Rumford ran up-stairs to Alec's room, thinking something was the
matter.

"Please sit down and put this on your head," said Alec.

The captain frowned. "What's this nonsense?" he said sharply. "I thought
you were in trouble."

"Please do as I ask," said Alec. "I won't keep you five minutes."

The captain sat down, the frown still on his forehead. The music
started. Clear as a bell on a frosty morning came the beautiful melody,
now rising, now falling, every word clear and distinct. Captain
Rumford's face was a study. Astonishment, incredulity, intense pleasure
were reflected on his countenance. He sat as one entranced. Skilfully
Alec shifted his tuning instruments, shutting out the occasional blurs
and keeping the tone sharp and distinct. The selection ended. Captain
Rumford turned toward Alec and started to remove his headpiece.

"Wait," said Alec. "Please sit still."

"The next number on our programme will be Humoresque, as played by
Mischa Elman," came the voice in the air.

In another moment the strains of a violin were sounding in the
captain's ears. For nearly an hour he sat in silence, listening to the
world's most beautiful music, rendered by famous musicians. He was too
amazed to speak. He sat there, drinking in the music, the very picture
of ecstasy.

"Where's that from?" he demanded, when the announcer said the concert
was ended.

"Newark," said Alec.

"Impossible! Why, Newark is more than one hundred miles distant. It
can't be."

Alec smiled. "It was Newark just the same," he said. "That was the
Newark station of the Westinghouse Manufacturing Company broadcasting."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, they send out stuff broadcast at every hour of the afternoon and
evening. It's free for everybody. All you need is a wireless telephone
set."

"Do you mean they send out music?"

"They send out everything you can think of--government weather
forecasts, marine news, happenings of the day, baseball scores, stories
for children, lectures by famous men and women, the finest kind of
music, and lots of other stuff. They give a concert every night in the
week. And they send their weekly programmes free to anybody that asks
for them. And there are many other stations that broadcast, too. There
are Pittsburgh and Chicago and Anacostia and ever so many others."

The captain was dumfounded. "Young man!" he said, "What did that outfit
cost?"

"Very little," said Alec. "I made most of it myself. Elsa got these few
things this afternoon. For a hundred or a hundred and fifty dollars you
could get as fine a receiving set as you'd want. A sending set would
cost more."

"You can! Alec, will you buy a good set for me and wire it up? I want
the best you can get. You can spend as much money as you like, within
reason."

"Certainly, sir," said Alec, trying to keep from shouting for very joy.
"I'll be only too glad to. I'll write for catalogues at once and order
the stuff. And when it comes, I'll install it and teach you and Elsa how
to operate it."

"Fine!" sighed the shipper. "At last we are going to have some music in
this house!"




CHAPTER XII

ALEC GETS A NEW JOB


Like many another wish, that for the two sets of wireless telephones was
unexpectedly slow of achievement. The oyster shipper's instruments
arrived promptly enough, and Alec installed them and taught Captain
Rumford and his family how to manipulate them. But it was a long, long
time before Alec's own set was completed. Needing to save every cent
possible, Alec bought only such materials as he could not pick up free,
and set about constructing his instruments; but it was a slow job.

For now he was once more back on the oyster-boat; and his plan to learn
all there was to learn about oystering, and to spend every minute of his
waking hours at work, was more than an idle boast. So he was up by four
in the morning or soon thereafter, helping the cook. All day he was busy
catching oysters. By the time the _Bertha B_ was scrubbed off and made
fast to her pier, darkness was at hand. Alec's evenings were necessarily
very brief, as it was absolutely necessary for him to go to bed early if
he was to get up early. The only free time he had was that consumed by
the trips to and from the oyster grounds. And even that grew steadily
less, as he took more and more burdens upon his shoulders.

Like most boys of his age, Alec knew considerable about gasoline motors.
In fact Alec was fairly skilled in their handling. Often he had helped a
neighbor at home clean and repair his motor-car. His high school physics
had taught him a great deal about the theory of gas engine operation.
And he had many times driven his neighbor's car. Altogether, he was a
handy lad to have about where there were gas engines of any sort.

Down in the hold, where the _Bertha's_ engine chugged so steadily, the
air was always tainted with the sickening fumes of exploded gasoline,
and the smell of oil. For hours every day, year in and year out, Joe had
sat beside his engine, unrelieved. Never before had the _Bertha B_
numbered among her crew any one else who was capable of tending the
engine. Now, as Alec, little by little, showed his capacity and won
Joe's confidence, he was allowed to handle the big motor. In time, he
was permitted, for limited periods, to operate it altogether, while Joe
went to deck for a breath of fresh air. Thus Alec learned a great deal
about the _Bertha B's_ motor in particular and ship motors in general.

As against his capability in some lines, was balanced Alec's utter
ignorance in others. He knew nothing whatever about navigation. But he
set himself to learn, and the captain, seeing his desire, aided him. He
explained the compass to Alec and showed him how to steer by it so that
he could keep a given course, when no landmarks were in sight. He told
him how fast the _Bertha B_ ordinarily traveled, and what her maximum
speed was. He explained the best speeds for dredging, the proper length
of chain to use on the dredges at given stages of the tide, showed him
the distant landmarks by which he could locate the Rumford oyster
grounds when the stakes were missing, taught him how to find his way
into the river at night by the range-lights, and how to distinguish East
Point Light from Egg Island Light and all the other lights along the
Bay. And the captain taught him about the tides, and how to figure them
and take advantage of their flow and allow for drift in steering the
boat. He also taught Alec how to find his way through a fog, and how to
judge the direction and distance of sounds in a fog. These and many
other things Captain Bagley explained to his new hand, delighted, as men
of accomplishment always are, to find a lad who was really eager to
learn.

Day by day Alec grew in knowledge. All that he needed to make his
knowledge wisdom was experience. And with every revolution of the sun he
was acquiring that. Occasionally the captain let Alec steer the boat
while he himself went back in the cabin for a time. Sometimes the
engineer asked Alec to run the motor for a few minutes. And often, when
they were all on deck culling oysters, and Alec and Bishop had cleaned
up their dredgeful, Dick would call across the deck to Alec and ask if
he would look at the roast in the oven, or put a little more water on
the beans or stir the potatoes. And Alec would skip inside and execute
the commission. So he came to know, not only how to prepare the foods
furnished on the _Bertha B_, but also to know which foods sailors like
and which they will not eat. In these and a hundred other ways, Alec was
daily making good his assertion that he wanted to know all there was to
know about the oyster business, and storing away a vast fund of
information that would some day be of the greatest value to him.

Necessarily, therefore, the construction of his wireless outfit was
delayed. With the ship pitching and rolling, as it usually did in the
Bay, it was difficult to do the fine, exacting work required, such as
the winding of the variometer he was making, or the fitting of the parts
of a large, loose coupler. Yet every available moment went into the
work.

Meantime, Alec had gained Captain Bagley's permission to put up his
telegraph set on the _Bertha B_. He ran a single-wire aerial from
masthead to cabin roof and brought his lead-in wire directly into his
bunk. He built a shelf at the foot of his bunk and fastened his
instruments on it. His cells he secured in a corner of the bunk itself.

In these narrow quarters where he could hardly sit upright he carried on
whatever wireless communications he held. They were brief enough. Yet he
listened to many a message speeding through the air, and he particularly
liked to "take Cape May." Never before had Alec been so near a great
wireless plant. The station there, only twenty miles from the _Bertha's_
pier, sent its powerful messages snapping into Alec's ear as distinctly
as though the sending instruments were in the _Bertha's_ very cabin.

Best of all were the brief conversations Alec had with Roy Mercer, when
the _Lycoming_ passed. Every time that steamer went up or down the
coast, Roy and Alec got into touch by wireless and told each other what
they had been doing. And sometimes Roy was able to talk to Charley
Russell, another member of the Camp Brady Wireless Patrol, who had
become first a fire patrol and then a ranger in the forests of
Pennsylvania, and had saved the state's finest stand of timber by the
help of his wireless and the powerful battery his fellows of the
Wireless Patrol had purchased for him. Often Alec caught Charley's
answers himself, without needing to have Roy relay them to him. It was
mighty good to hear from his old comrade back among the Pennsylvania
mountains.

At last, however, Alec completed his telephone set. He still lacked a
battery, but his keen sense of obligation would not let him buy one
until he had entirely wiped out his debt to Captain Rumford. For Alec
now regarded his indebtedness for the gravestone as an obligation to the
shipper rather than to the marble dealer. Every week Alec turned over to
Captain Rumford practically all of his pay. This mounted steadily from
the ten dollars earned in his first week to full pay. So the debt was
extinguished much sooner than Alec had dreamed it would be.

His next expenditure was for a battery. Once he had secured that, he
wired up his telephone set and found it worked well. That night he broke
his rule about retiring early. He was talking to Elsa. After that the
two conversed for a time in the early evening before the great
electrical companies began to broadcast their programmes, so as to be
done with the instruments before Captain Rumford appeared to listen to
the music. The dream of the captain's life was realized. He had music in
his home every night, and an amplifying horn made it audible to all.

Alec, needless to say, became a first-class deck-hand. Not a day passed
that he did not learn something new about the oyster business. As he had
practically no expenses, his savings grew fast.

Cold weather came. From time to time it was too cold to operate the
oyster-boats. Then the fleet lay in port and the shippers worried
because they could not fill their orders.

"When I get my boat," said Alec to himself, "nothing but the heaviest
ice will prevent her from operating. She will be high enough so the men
can work in the hold, and there won't be any likelihood of the oysters
freezing."

Truly it is an ill wind that blows nobody good. The cold days, though
they brought loss to shippers and sailors alike, were helpful to Alec.
When there was no work for the lad aboard the _Bertha B_, Captain
Rumford brought him into the office. The shipper still clung to the
old-fashioned business methods he had learned as a boy. He had no
clerical help, but tried to keep his accounts and carry on his
correspondence in person. Though it was more of a task than he could
handle, for a long time he obstinately refused to alter his methods.

One cold day in midwinter, when every boat in the fleet was tied up,
Alec noticed that the captain was fairly sweating under the mountain of
clerical work that had accumulated. He was writing some letters, which
he had later to copy so as to have duplicates; and there were bills to
be made out, bills to be paid, accounts to be entered in the books,
correspondence to be answered, and a dozen other tasks to be done.

"Won't you let me help you?" said Alec. "I haven't done a thing since
you brought me into the office but run errands. Any ten-year-old can do
that as well as I can. In high school I studied bookkeeping,
typewriting, commercial correspondence, and a good many other things
about business and office work. I've had the training. Won't you let me
help you?"

The captain hesitated. In all his life nobody but himself had ever
written a business letter for him, or posted an account in his books. He
looked at the pile of work heaped up on his desk. Then he looked at the
unopened mail Alec had just brought from the post-office.

"You can slit the envelopes," he said, still hesitating. "That would
save some time."

Alec had to turn sharp about to hide the smile that he couldn't prevent.
Then he whipped out his knife, and in a minute every letter was cut and
ready to open. Alec even pulled each letter part way out of its
envelope, to facilitate handling.

"Now let me copy that list, while you look over your mail," urged Alec.

"I don't know," said the shipper. "Let me see your handwriting."

Alec wrote the shipper's name and address. His penmanship was a great
deal better than the shipper's cramped and hurried chirography.

"Well, you be careful--very careful," said the shipper, reluctantly
surrendering his pen to Alec.

Alec's task was purely mechanical. He copied the list faster and more
legibly than the captain had done. When he completed it, the captain was
addressing shipping tags. "Let me do that, while you do something more
important," urged Alec.

"Be careful. Be very careful," warned the shipper.

When the tags were finished, and Captain Rumford found that not a single
mistake had been made, he gave Alec another task. So the two worked
busily all the morning long. Before either was aware of it, noon had
arrived.

"By George!" cried the shipper, with sparkling eyes. "There's a whole
day's work done and it's only dinner time. We'll be able to make a big
hole in this pile this afternoon," and he pointed to the accumulated
work awaiting attention at one end of his desk.

The cold spell continued for several days, and in that time Captain
Rumford and Alec cleaned up every one of the accumulated tasks; the
captain got his books posted, and even got a little ahead with some
routine work. The captain felt as though a mountain had been lifted from
his shoulders. Alec realized that another opportunity had come his way.
He had gained an insight into the clerical end of oystering. He didn't
know whether other offices were run like Captain Rumford's or not; but
he did understand that in this particular office, at least, there was
room for great improvement. If only the captain would change his
methods, he could still do his work single-handed. And with the cost of
clerk hire so high, that was a thing worth accomplishing. In his own
mind Alec pictured the office as he would conduct it if it were his. He
thought over all the time-saving devices he could employ. And he decided
that he could do as much work as the captain did in about half the time
it took the shipper. That was not because Alec considered himself a
superior clerk, but because he knew how to use modern clerical devices
and appreciated their value.

"Captain Rumford," he said, when he had turned the matter over well in
his mind, "I notice that you write out your shipping tags by hand day
after day, and that it takes quite a little time. Don't you have
regular customers that you ship to year after year?"

"Why, lad, I've got customers I've shipped to for twenty years," said
the captain proudly.

"And in all those twenty years I suppose you've addressed all your tags
by hand?"

"Certainly, certainly."

"Wouldn't you save time, Captain, if you had a rubber stamp made for
each old customer? Here's a tag you've addressed to Day and Moore,
Scranton, Pennsylvania. Ever since I've been here I have noticed bags of
oysters going to them almost daily. So I judge they are old customers."

"Exactly," replied the shipper. "One of my oldest customers."

"If you had a rubber stamp with their name and address on it, you could
stamp a tag much faster than you can write it, and the address would be
much easier to read. With a stamp for each old customer, hung up with
the address of each customer over his particular stamp, you could
address a good many tags in a minute. Think how much time you would
save."

"Um!" grunted the captain. "Um! I'll think it over. It might work. It
might work."

Alec tried hard to keep down the smile that wanted to come. "And,
Captain Rumford," he went on, "if only you would get a typewriter, I
could write letters for you and make carbon copies or copy them in the
copying-press. It wouldn't take one-fourth the time it takes to write
your letters by hand, let alone make copies of some of them. Then you'd
have copies of everything."

"Um!" said the captain again. "But who'd do the typewriting when you are
not here? The _Bertha B_ won't always be tied up by cold weather."

"Well," laughed Alec, "I don't suppose I'll always be a deck-hand on the
_Bertha B_, for that matter. If you wanted to make a deck-hand into an
office hand, I don't know what would prevent you. And I'm sure 'Barkis
would be willin'.'"

"Barkis," said the shipper, straightening up. "Who's he, and what's he
got to do with my business, anyway?"

"Oh! He's just a character in a book," said Alec. This time he could not
conceal the smile, and he added, "He's just a funny sort of fellow that
makes you laugh when you think of him."

"But what's this about his being 'willin''? What's the connection,
anyway?"

"Oh! That was just a phrase of his, that came into my head. What I meant
was that I would be willing to change from deck-hand to office hand any
time you wanted me to."

Captain Rumford wheeled around toward Alec as though he were about to
bite him. "Are you getting tired of catching oysters so soon?" he
demanded. "I thought you had some sand."

"Tired!" cried Alec. "I love it. But I don't want to be a deck-hand
forever, and I don't intend to be, either. There's so much to learn
about the business that I've got to keep moving, or I'll never learn
it."

"So you think you already know all there is to learn on shipboard, do
you?" said the captain with cold contempt.

"No, sir. I do not," replied Alec, his cheeks aflame at the captain's
words. "But I realize there are so many things to learn that I must be
moving on or I'll be an old man before I'm ready to start in the
business."

"So you're still determined to be an oysterman?"

"Absolutely."

"That's very good. But if I were you I'd wait a while before I tried to
teach old oystermen how to run their business."

"If you think that's the way I feel," cried Alec indignantly, "you are
very much mistaken. What I want to do now is to learn all there is to
know about oystering. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to learn some
of the things oystermen have never done. I don't know what they are,
yet, but there are some such things. You don't catch oysters to-day the
same way you did when you were young. Then you didn't have gasoline
engines, or telephones, or motor-boats, or automobiles. And to-morrow we
shall be using lots of things we don't use to-day. I'm going to find out
what they are and learn all about them, so I'll be right up-to-date when
I become an oyster shipper."

The shipper looked long and hard at Alec. "Why are you so all-fired keen
about doing things in what you call an 'up-to-date way'? Suppose a man
doesn't take up with these newfangled notions, he's still an oysterman,
isn't he, and he still has his beds and still sells oysters, doesn't
he?"

"Yes, for a time," said Alec slowly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Alec, "that no man and no business can be very much
behind the times and remain successful. If a merchant lighted his store
with candles instead of electricity, he would not keep his trade very
long in these days. Some of the oystermen are still using sails, I
notice, while the rest of you are using gasoline. Well, they will
eventually be driven out of the oyster business. They have to pay the
same wages for hands that you do, and they don't catch more than half as
many oysters in the same time. See how that cuts their margin of profit.
When they strike a poor season, a lot of them will go broke."

"I reckon you're about right."

"Well, when I become a shipper, I don't intend to go broke, I'm going to
stay right up with the leaders. So I want to know all I can learn about
oystering--office work as well as navigation. And as for your office
work, if you had a typewriter I could answer your letters in the
afternoons, after the _Bertha B_ gets in. The skipper could put me
ashore before he unloads his oysters. Why, I could have your letters
pretty well cleaned up before the boat made fast for the night. I could
help you quite a lot, sir."

"Um!" grunted the shipper. "I'll think it over."

But before the captain came to a decision, Alec had found another task
that took every moment of his spare time. The weather turned warm, and
the fleet resumed work. The usual activity again prevailed at the pier
shed. In the midst of it, old Pete had a paralytic stroke. He could no
longer collect shells, and many a shipper found himself with his scows
still full of shells when morning came. Captain Rumford was one of them.
Alec was quick to see the opportunity. If he could take care of these
shells, he would help both his employer and himself, for he could sell
the shells when spring came, to the oyster-planters. At once he spoke to
Captain Rumford about it.

"If I could get a boat," he said, "I would guarantee to keep your scows
clean."

"If there was any way you could do it," said the shipper, "I'd be mighty
glad to let you. I'm tired of fooling with these old fellows. It's a
real shell game they work on us."

"I can do it easily, sir," pleaded Alec. "I have lots of time after the
_Bertha B_ reaches her pier."

"Maybe you could," said the shipper, still hesitating.

"Of course I could. I might have to work after dark sometimes, but I
wouldn't mind that."

"We'll try it," said the shipper suddenly, "but what are you going to do
about a boat?"

"I've got enough money saved to buy a boat," said Alec, "unless it
costs too much. Would you be willing to help me buy it?"

"Certainly."

They found just the boat Alec wanted. It was long, wide, and flat
bottomed with square ends and very high sides. It would hold at least
fifty bushels of shells when full.

"What do you want such a big boat for?" demanded the shipper.

"Because I'll need it," said Alec. "While I am taking your shells away,
I might just as well get some more, too. I'm sure some of the other
shippers will give me their shells if I guarantee their removal every
day. There's one thing still puzzling me, though. Where am I to dump the
shells after I have collected them?"

"I'll fix that," said the shipper. "Old Si Newcomb owns the land along
the river below the sheds. It's just the place you want. He'll let you
put your shells there if I ask him."

"Thank you," said Alec. "Now I'll take my boat and get your shells."

"I'll ride back with you," said the shipper.

Alec took the sculling oar and shoved off. But when he tried to propel
the boat as he had seen men doing, his oar flew out of water and he
could not budge his craft.

The shipper laughed. "I thought you might find yourself in trouble. It
seems there are still some things an old-timer can teach the young fry.
Give me that oar."

He fitted it into place and the boat fairly flew over the water under
his skilful strokes. Yet he seemed to be working very little. "Watch
that oar," said the shipper. And after a moment, "Watch my wrist."

Alec soon caught the trick of twisting the oar with each stroke, and
with a little practice found himself able to propel the boat fairly
well. He sculled the craft to the captain's pier and collected his
shells. Then he asked the shippers at adjoining piers for their shells,
guaranteeing their removal each evening if he could have the shells.
Still awkward in the handling of his boat, Alec was slow in finishing
his task. When he started for his dumping-ground, the tide had turned
and was against him. It was all he could do to force the heavy boat
against the swift current.

"I see two improvements I need to make right away," said Alec to
himself. "I need lights and I need power. I can buy the lights at once.
And when I get a little more money saved, I'll get one of these portable
motors to hang over the stern. Then I can work faster and easier."

As soon as he had emptied his shells and made his boat fast, Alec walked
over to Port Norris, the nearest town, where he found an acetylene lamp
that would answer his purpose. He bought it and some carbide and walked
back to Bivalve. He went to his boat, and decided how he would mount the
light. Then he started for the _Bertha B_. But first he paused to look
at the little pile of shells he had thrown on the shore. There were
only a few bushels and the heap seemed very small indeed.

"I suppose there aren't more than thirty cents' worth altogether," said
Alec to himself, "but never mind. Great oaks from little acorns grow.
Nobody knows how big this shell pile will become, or what will come of
the venture. But one thing's sure. I started at the bottom, and I
haven't gotten far yet, but I've climbed one rung of the ladder, anyhow.
I'm more than a mere deck-hand. I'm a shell merchant, now," and Alec
laughed heartily at the joke. "How long will it be before I'm an oyster
merchant?"




CHAPTER XIII

AN UNLOOKED-FOR FRIEND


Much sooner than he had ever dreamed would be the case, Alec had an
opportunity to become an oyster merchant. But it was a sort of oyster
business very different from any he had thought of. It was no trouble at
all for Alec to secure the shells of additional shippers, for by this
time Alec was favorably known to almost everybody at Bivalve. The story
of his rescue of Hawley had drawn attention to him. And his modest
demeanor, his cheerful way, and his general spirit of helpfulness,
attracted every one who met him.

But more powerful than these influences was the fact that Captain
Rumford stood behind him. If the captain said a thing would be done,
every man at the oyster piers knew it would be done. And the captain was
glad to speak to any fellow shipper whose shells Alec wanted, and
guarantee their removal. Alec secured those from neighboring piers, so
as to lessen the amount of work he would have to do. Nor was there much
difficulty about this. The oyster shippers generally had been so
dissatisfied with the uncertain manner of collecting shells that they
were ready to adopt almost any plan which promised real improvement. So
Alec speedily found himself with more shells engaged than he really knew
how to handle.

Naturally he did not get shells away from the old collectors without
gaining their enmity, too. They cursed him when they met him, and some
even threatened him. Alec paid little attention to them; but he was too
wise to disregard their threats altogether. He had had one experience
with an enemy that nearly cost him his life, and he did not propose to
be caught napping a second time. His work after dark made it especially
easy for any one to harm him who so chose. So Alec went about with both
eyes and both ears open.

One night he had finished collecting his shells and had just pulled into
his dumping-ground, when a dark form stepped out of the marsh reeds and
leaped aboard his boat. Instinctively Alec picked up his oar and
prepared to defend himself. When he saw that the man was Hawley, he
gripped the oar tighter than ever and made ready for a struggle. His
heart began to beat like a pneumatic riveter, but he stood firm, and
tried to appear unconcerned.

"Hello, youngster," said the giant sailor, advancing a step toward him.
"You're getting a lot of trade, I see."

"Yes. More than I can handle."

"Exactly what I reckoned," replied Hawley. "Exactly what I reckoned."

Alec wondered why, if the man intended harm to him, he did not attack
him at once. "He's just waiting to take me off my guard," he said to
himself. Aloud he said, "The oyster business is pretty slack just now,
and I can just manage to handle the shells. But I don't know what I
would do if the shippers should have a rush of business. I guess I'd
have to have help or else quit the _Bertha B_."

"Exactly what I reckoned," said Hawley. "Exactly what I reckoned. And I
come to offer to help you."

Alec nearly tumbled over backward in his astonishment. "I'd like to have
your help all right," he said, still eyeing Hawley distrustfully, "but I
don't know how I'd pay you."

"Who said anything about pay?" asked Hawley.

"I don't exactly understand what you mean," said Alec. "Of course you'd
want pay if you helped me, and, of course, I would expect to pay you.
Nobody can afford to work for nothing."

"Exactly what I reckon," said Hawley. "But I've had my pay already. Now
I want to earn it."

"I don't understand you."

The big oysterman stepped forward. Alec retreated and raised his oar.
"Just stand back, will you?" he said.

"I don't blame you a bit for feelin' that way, seein' as how you never
had no reason to trust me," replied Hawley, and he went back to the very
bow of the boat. "But I don't mean you no harm, lad. I come to help
you. Jim Hawley ain't no copperhead, even if you do have reason to think
so. That wasn't Jim Hawley that chucked you into the river. It was old
John Barleycorn. Jim Hawley ain't that sort of a feller. I'm done with
John Barleycorn, and I want you to know the real Jim Hawley. I want to
help you and it won't cost you a cent."

Alec was too much astonished for words. "It's mighty kind of you," he
said, "but I couldn't accept any man's services without paying him for
them."

"Come, come, lad, don't be foolish," urged the big sailor. "You need me
a whole lot more than you think."

"I'd like to know how."

"Well, I didn't want to tell you this, lad. But I'd feel safer about you
if I was around. You know them shell collectors you been gettin' shells
away from don't love you any too much, and I don't like to think of you
out here alone in the dark. It's been worryin' me."

"Worrying you! Why should you worry about me?"

Big Hawley hung his head. "I ain't had a decent night's sleep since I
sobered up," he said. "Cap'n Bagley told me what an old villain I'd been
and how fine you was about it, not wantin' me put in jail, and I says to
myself, says I, 'If ever you touch another drop of booze, you're a worse
scoundrel than even Bagley takes you for; and he thinks you're next to
the devil.' So I quit drinkin'. Ain't touched a drop since, and ain't
never goin' to touch another. But that didn't make it right with you.
You done the finest thing I ever heard of when you went overboard after
me, and I just can't sleep for worryin' how I'm goin' to make it up to
you. So you see you've just got to let me help you with them shells."

Hawley's voice had grown husky and his eyes were actually moist before
he stopped talking. There was no doubting his sincerity.

Alec threw down his oar and sprang toward him. "Don't you bother about
that another minute," he said, holding out his hand, which the sailor
pressed warmly. "I'm glad you are no longer angry at me, and that you
want to be my friend. And if you really want to help with the shells,
I'll be more than glad. But you must let me pay you when I am able."

"Now don't you ever say another word to me about pay," said Hawley,
clearing his throat and seizing an oyster shovel. "We'll just consider
the matter settled. And I'm much obliged to you. You've done me a mighty
good turn. I won't have to worry no more about you out here in the
darkness all alone." And he fell to shoveling oysters as fast as he
could.

The winter continued open, and the fleet worked with unusual regularity.
There were not many days when the weather was too rough for dredging. So
the shells accumulated fast. In a little while Alec was able to buy his
portable motor. With the aid of that and with Hawley to assist him, he
could care for his shells in a very short time.

"It's almost too bad we don't have more shells," he said to Hawley one
day.

"Git 'em!" said the sailor. "You kin. There ain't anybody round here
won't give 'em to you if you ask, I reckon."

"I was willing to take old Pete's shells and a few more," said Alec,
"but I wouldn't want to put the other collectors out of business."

"What's that to you? They'd put you out of business in a minute if they
dared."

"Just the same, it doesn't seem fair. I can't adopt their standards.
I've got to stick to my own."

Before many days elapsed, Alec had another opportunity to decide what
standards he would follow. One of his competitors came to him and
offered to pay him twenty-five cents a basket for the rattlers in his
pile of shells.

"You'd be getting eight times as much for the rattlers as you would for
the shells, and there'd likely be a basket or two a night in such a big
pile of shells. That'd be twenty-five to fifty cents clear velvet every
night."

Alec was suspicious. "What do you want them for?" he asked.

"To eat, of course. We can't make enough collecting shells to buy good
oysters. These is all right, if we eat 'em soon."

"I'll think it over," said Alec.

When the man was gone, he saw at once the absurdity of the thing. There
were only two or three shell collectors to eat the oysters. Only one of
them had a family. With Alec's shells they would have access to all the
shells in the place. If they could get a basket or two of rattlers from
his shells, there must be a number of baskets among all the
shells--several bushels in fact. It wouldn't be possible for them to eat
all the oysters.

"There's something crooked about this," said Alec. Then he thought of
what Hawley had told him of the enmity the other shell collectors had
toward him. He decided to ask Hawley about the matter.

"Jim," he said, when he next saw his helper, "old Wallace offered to buy
all our rattlers. Said he wanted them to eat. What do you suppose he's
up to?"

"Don't know," replied Hawley, frowning, "but you can bet it ain't for no
good purpose. Why, that old rip's so crooked he can't even walk
straight. You just leave it to me. I'll find out about it."

Three nights later Hawley sought out Alec after the latter had tumbled
into his bed on the _Bertha B_. "I know what them rips is up to," he
said. "They're openin' their rattlers, treatin' 'em over-night in soda,
and sellin' 'em in cans."

"They are!" cried Alec. "Selling them as Maurice River Cove oysters?"

"Surest thing you know."

"If they do much of that, they'll knock the oyster business into a
cocked hat. Anybody that eats one of those things and sees the label
'Maurice River Cove Oysters,' will never want to taste another."

"Exactly what I reckon," said big Jim Hawley.

"I'll tell the shipper about this at once," said Alec.

He glanced at his watch. "Exactly nine-thirty," he said. "The captain
will be listening to Pittsburgh if he's at home."

He turned to his wireless telephone, threw over his switch, and began to
speak. "3ADH calling 3ARM," he called. There was no reply. Again he
called.

Then his receivers began to vibrate. "3ARM answering 3ADH," came the
message.

"Hello, Captain," he telephoned. "This is Alec. We have found something
going on here that I want to tell you about at once. Can you come down?"

"Yes. Are you in a hurry?"

"No. Any time to-night will do."

"I'll come just as soon as this music's done. Good-bye."

An hour later the shipper, the skipper, Alec, and big Hawley were in
conference in the cabin of the _Bertha B_. Next day Captain Rumford
called a meeting of all the shippers at Bivalve. The conference decided
to put an end at once to the existing system of shell collecting.

"We've had enough of this haphazard method," said one shipper. "Let us
give all our shells to one man and hold him responsible for their proper
collection and disposition. Then we shall not have to worry about our
scows any longer, and there won't be any of this crooked work going on
to ruin the oyster business. It seems to me we couldn't do better than
to turn the whole shell business over to that young chap of Cap'n
Rumford's. He's a clean, energetic boy, and he'll take care of the
shells right. With all our shells to handle, there will be enough in it
for him to give his entire time to it."

"And what do you think I'm going to do if you take away the best young
fellow I ever had in my employ?" asked Captain Rumford.

"That's your lookout," said his fellow shipper. "The oystermen's
association is just as keen to get a good man as you are to keep one."

Captain Rumford himself laid the proposition before Alec. The latter was
dumfounded. "Give me twenty-four hours to think it over," he said.

It was a crisis in Alec's life. It was an opportunity and yet it was not
the sort of opportunity he welcomed. It would take him away from the
direct line he had marked out for himself. Then, too, if he became a
shell collector only, he would have no money coming to him until the
spring planting season, and he did not see how he could get along
without some regular income. Finally, he was reluctant to leave the
employ of Captain Rumford.

He had almost decided not to accept the offer, when he thought of
Hawley. "Why, he could collect most of those shells himself, if he
worked at it all day," thought Alec. "He can get around so fast with the
little motor that he might be able to do it all himself. Now, how can we
arrange it?"

He thought over the matter a long time. Before he fell asleep he had
decided what to do. Next morning he sought Hawley on the latter's ship
the instant he was up.

"Jim," he said, "the oystermen want me to take all their shells. I'd
like to do it. There would be a nice profit in it, but I can't very well
give up my job on the _Bertha B_ and go to collecting shells on nothing
a week. Now if you would go into partnership with me----"

"On nothing a week?" laughed the big sailor.

Alec joined in the laugh. "Looks as though that's what I want, doesn't
it? But listen, Jim. Here's my plan. You stay here and handle the
shells. I will be on hand to help you every afternoon. With the motor in
our boat we can handle them all easily. I'll draw my pay on the _Bertha
B_ and give you ten dollars each week. That isn't much, but it will keep
you until we sell the shells. Then you can repay me from your share of
the proceeds. I've been figuring out how many we'll have, and there'll
be enough to bring us both a good profit for all the time and money we
put into it. What do you think of it?"

"If it will help you," said Hawley, "you just bet I'll do it."

"It'll help us both."

"Then that settles it. Here's to the new firm, 'Cunningham and Hawley,
shell merchants.'"

And turning to the table, Hawley poured out drinks for them both. But it
was only coffee.

"Shall we have a sign painted?" he laughed.




CHAPTER XIV

THE CORNER-STONE THAT ALEC FOUND


Now that Alec and Jim got all the shells from all the shippers, their
pile grew with unbelievable rapidity. Although the number of shells had
increased so greatly, yet big Jim Hawley was almost always able to
handle the entire day's harvest himself. The powerful little motor shot
his boat from point to point with great speed; and the sailor himself
was so strong and powerful that he could shovel the shells out of his
boat while most other men would have been thinking about it. Thus it
happened that Alec seldom had to help his partner, when the _Bertha B_
made fast for the day.

But Alec was not one to waste his time. Whenever Jim did not need him,
Alec hustled up to the shipper's office and helped with the clerical
work. To his delight, Captain Rumford finally procured a typewriter, the
rubber stamps, and some other office equipment suggested by Alec. With
the aid of these and the assistance Alec was able to give him, Captain
Rumford now easily performed the office work that had previously been
such a burden to him. When Sailor Hawley saw the situation, and realised
that Alec had a good chance for promotion if he could be regular with
the office work, he told Alec that the shell collections had fallen off
so much he would not need any help during the remainder of the season.
Perhaps he told the truth.

Alec, at any rate, now felt free to give Captain Rumford his time every
afternoon. Usually the skipper was able to set Alec ashore by half-past
three o'clock. In the two hours that remained before Captain Rumford
drove home, the captain dictated answers to all his letters, Alec taking
the dictation direct on his typewriter. He had to do this, as he had
never studied stenography. Often, now, he wished he had. But he had
never foreseen the need of it. His deficiency taught him a good lesson,
however.

"It just goes to show that you never can tell what will come useful,"
said Alec. "I'll worry along all right without stenography, I suppose,
but you can just bet that in this oyster game I'm going to know
everything I possibly can pick up that has the slightest bearing on the
business. I'm not going to wake up after I'm a shipper and find that
there is something about my business that I don't know."

As the winter wore on, work declined at the oyster piers and men were
laid off. Many beds had long ago been dredged clean of their oysters.
Boat after boat was made fast for the season. The fleet dwindled almost
daily in numbers. Then there came periods of very rough weather, when
all the boats remained at their piers. Those days Alec spent wholly in
the office. So his pay continued without interruption. Better still it
increased. As a deck-hand he had been getting $17.50 a week. The shipper
increased his stipend to $20 a week.

But better even than the increase in pay was the opportunity that came
to visit the captain's home. For often at the week-end Alec was now
asked to accompany the shipper home. Usually he merely spent the evening
there, returning to Bivalve by trolley. But once in a while he was asked
to spend Sunday with the Rumfords. Elsa, of course, hailed his visits
with delight. And it was not long before Mrs. Rumford was almost as glad
to see Alec as her daughter was. About the only welcome Alec ever got
from the head of the house was the statement the latter made, when he
ushered the lad in at the door, "Well, mother, here's this Alec
Cunningham again. He pestered me so to bring him along that I hadn't the
heart to refuse."

Of course, there wasn't a word of truth in it, but just the same it
always embarrassed Alec a little bit, much to the delight of Elsa.
Probably that was why the shipper teased the lad, for Elsa was the apple
of his eye. To please her, he would have done things far more foreign to
his nature than to crack a joke.

Probably the reason Elsa was so fond of Alec was because he treated her
as an absolute equal. There was no hint of condescension on his part
when he talked with her, no suggestion of superiority. He never
intimated that because she was a girl she shouldn't do this or that
thing that he did. Like the majority of American girls of to-day, Elsa
was independent, sensible, thoughtful, and able. So her tastes and
desires were remarkably like those of any other normal person of her age
and training. She liked sailing, tennis, swimming, basket-ball,
motoring, camping, and similar sports, and was quite as intelligent
about them as most boys would have been. With similar likes himself,
Alec understood her feelings exactly and treated her much as he would
have treated a boy chum of his own age. Though he was doubtless a little
more chivalrous toward her than he would have been to one of his boy
friends, he did not carry his chivalry to the point where it interfered
with their friendship. So the two became very good chums, indeed. It was
a matter of delight to them both that Alec was able to help her with
many a knotty point in her studies. In every way the two seemed
fashioned to be the best of friends.

To Alec the privilege of coming to the captain's house meant more than
he could have told. Alec and his father had lived with a very estimable
family. Here at Bivalve he missed greatly that home influence. His
companions on the _Bertha B_ and at the piers he had come to esteem
greatly; yet they were mostly rough workingmen, uncouth in speech and
manner, though pure gold at heart. Alec was at an age and in a situation
when he especially needed the refining influence of a good home. He got
it in Captain Rumford's home.

Just why Captain Rumford chose to take Alec to his home, the
inscrutable oyster shipper never said. But he never did anything without
a reason. Outsiders who knew about the matter attached far more
significance to it than Alec possibly could. Also they understood much
better than Alec did how fortunate a lad he was. With the leading oyster
shipper at Bivalve back of him, Alec's future was already secure if he
chose to become an oyster-planter himself.

Alec, fortunately, never once thought of the matter in that light. He
didn't even know that the shipper was behind him. In his own mind he was
simply an employee whom the shipper, for some reason or other, had come
to like. And he meant to do everything in his power to retain Captain
Rumford's good-will.

It pleased Alec immensely that he had been able to help his benefactor
so much with his office work. The changes that had been made seemed to
lighten the work daily. Yet the changes already made were not all that
Alec hoped to make. He wanted a better system of filing and keeping
records. Every time he looked at the dusty pigeonholes in the old rack
above the captain's desk, each stuffed full of miscellaneous contents,
his fingers itched to tear the whole thing out and install some modern
filing cases. But he knew he must bide his time for that.

Very late in the winter, or very early in the spring, when the oyster
business was getting toward its lowest ebb and the office work was
light, Alec asked permission to clean the office. The shipper looked at
him in amazement.

"What for?" he asked.

"Perhaps we could arrange things in a way that would expedite our work,"
replied Alec, watching his boss out of the corner of his eye.

"Um!" grunted the shipper. "It's likely! Why, I've done business with
this office just as it is for more than thirty years and never found it
necessary yet to change things."

But in the end, he consented. Alec moved their two desks somewhat, so as
to get better light on them and shifted a few other things. But the main
thing he wanted to do was to clear out those dusty old pigeonholes, and
get the contents arranged better. So he began to take the contents from
pigeonhole after pigeonhole, laying the things he took out in orderly
little piles and trying to rearrange and classify them. But when he
reached the second row in the rack, he suddenly lost all interest in his
work. Out of the pigeonhole came a familiar-looking pamphlet, like
dozens of government bulletins Alec had seen at the high school in
Central City. Alec was about to drop it on the desk when the title
caught his eye. It was "Aids to Successful Oyster-Culture." The bulletin
had recently been issued by the New Jersey Experiment station.

"Where did you get this?" cried Alec, all afire with interest.

"What?" said the shipper, glancing up from his work. Then, after seeing
what it was, "Oh! That! Why, that's something the state got out.
Somebody sent me a copy."

"Is it interesting?" asked Alec.

"To tell the truth, I never had time to read it. I stuck it in that
pigeonhole and there it's been ever since."

Alec looked aghast. "Never read it!" he cried. "Would you be willing to
lend it to me? I'll take good care of it and be sure to return it."

"Take it and keep it. I don't want it."

Alec folded the bulletin and placed it in his pocket as though it were
rarest treasure. Into his mind flashed the Master's words: "The stone
which the builders rejected is become the head of the corner."

"Who knows?" he said to himself, "but this may be the very corner-stone
for the structure I intend to build? It may be the very thing I have
been searching for. My entire future may depend upon what I read in this
bulletin."




CHAPTER XV

A NEW LIGHT


Even a cursory examination of the bulletin told Alec he was right in
thinking that the little pamphlet held the secrets for which he had been
searching. Here, in this unconsidered little publication that had been
consigned to the oblivion of a dusty pigeonhole by a man who was
beginning to fall behind the times, was an open sesame to the
treasure-house of the deep. Alec wondered how many more of these
bulletins were likewise resting in dusty pigeonholes. He was sure there
must be many of them similarly tucked out of sight, for the bulletin,
which was the very first of a series planned by the state to set forth
the knowledge of the oyster that had been accumulated by the scientists
of the world, plainly said that the position of the oyster-planter of
to-day was very similar to that of the land farmer of fifty years ago,
before the application of scientific methods to agriculture. If that
were true, Alec knew that little heed would be given to the publication
by many of the oyster-planters. They were too old to change. The
situation gave him the opportunity to become a pioneer and, he firmly
believed, to reap the rewards of the pioneer.

The quality that distinguished Alec's mind from the mind of the average
lad of his years was that of understanding or comprehension. At school
he had never won unusual grades; yet he had been an unusual student.
Indeed, it would have been remarkable had a lad of his wide interests
gained high marks. His participation in athletics, his accomplishments
with the wireless, his devotion to nature and out-of-door pleasures, and
his efforts along many lines not directly connected with his studies,
practically precluded the possibility of his being an honor student. Yet
no winner of high grades ever understood what he studied better than
Alec comprehended the work he covered. Very early Alec had imbibed the
idea that the purpose of schooling is understanding, not grades, ability
to accomplish, and not diplomas. So he had been more or less indifferent
to the marks he received, but very particular to grasp what he studied.
To an unusual degree he had gained the essence of education, which is
the ability to think. He saw facts as they were, he drew correct
deductions from these facts, and he consequently came to truthful
conclusions.

Nothing whatever could have meant as much to Alec, situated as he now
was, as did this double ability to understand facts and to draw right
conclusions from them. He was just starting his life-work. He was
building his career. He was erecting a structure to last a lifetime and
perhaps many generations longer. He must fight for all he got. There
would be few who cared whether he built well or poorly, and fewer still
to help him. His alone was the responsibility for the quality of the job
he was doing. What he had told Captain Rumford was true: he wanted to
know, not only about what oyster-planters had done and were doing, but
also what they would be doing in future. Alec had always been like that.
He had always wanted to know the whole truth.

As he read the bulletin in his hands, he told himself that he was a
fortunate lad, indeed. If oyster-farming is to-day just where land
farming was half a century ago, he told himself, he had become an
oysterman at exactly the right moment. He had had a great deal more
schooling than most of the men now in the business. He could learn the
truth more easily. He had the advantage of knowing nothing whatever
about the oyster business, so that he had no prejudices to hamper him,
no preconceived ideas to hold him back. He was free to learn the truth,
and when he found it, to act accordingly. He could make all his plans
upon a scientific basis. He could be a pioneer in scientific
oyster-culture. And like the farmers who sprayed their fruit-trees while
their neighbors laughed at them, and the dairymen who began raising
blooded stock while their neighbors ridiculed them, he would reap his
reward, the same as those intelligent orchardists and cattlemen had
done.

Perhaps Alec did not actually think the situation out in such detail,
but the underlying idea he felt very strongly. He had come into the
oyster business at a time when it was about to undergo a change. Not all
the oyster-shippers, he felt sure, would toss aside this valuable
compendium of information as thoughtlessly as Captain Rumford had done.
Few of them, perhaps, were as well qualified as he himself was to carry
out the suggestions made in the book; for he had studied biology. He
knew how to use the microscope. He was familiar with the work that would
be required of the scientific oysterman as suggested by the bulletin.

For this marvelous little publication told him, not only about the
life-history and habits of oysters, but also how and where they could
best be raised. An open sesame, indeed, was this book. For Alec had long
understood that the present method of oyster-culture was largely a game
of blind man's buff.

When he had asked the skipper how the oystermen knew good grounds from
poor ones, the captain had replied, "They don't. All they can do is to
shell 'em and see if they get a set."

That was the doctrine and belief of an experienced and able captain of
an oyster-boat. Yet here in his very hands Alec had proof that an
intelligent person could discover where the good grounds were, easily
and cheaply. It wasn't necessary to own a ship and buy thousands of
bushels of shells and employ expensive help to spread them in order to
find out whether a given place would make good grounds or not. With very
little equipment Alec knew he could test the matter as well as anybody.
He almost cried aloud with sheer joy. For though the planted beds
covered 30,000 acres, and doubtless included many and perhaps most of
the good grounds, Alec did not doubt that there still remained unstaked
areas that would make as good oyster-beds as any already "stuck up." His
job was to find them while he was getting together the money to buy his
equipment.

When Alec had gone hastily through the bulletin once, he again began to
read it, this time slowly and painstakingly. He found that Skipper
Bagley's assertion that one oyster produces millions of little oysters
was not only true, but was almost an understatement, so incredible was
the actual number, estimated by the scientists at sixteen to sixty
millions, depending upon the size, age, and vigor of the spawning
oyster. And it was equally true, as the skipper had said, that one could
not see newly-formed oysters with the naked eye; for, even at two weeks
of age, when they are about ready to attach to something, they were
still scarcely visible.

What fairly astounded Alec was the fact that each tiny oyster larva has
a foot, which is later absorbed into the body when there is no longer
need for it. For, contrary to what the skipper had told him, the oyster
fry not only have the power to move about in the water, but they do not
die at once if they sink to the bottom and find no suitable place of
attachment. With its tiny foot, each microscopic oyster is able to move
about on the bottom, and does move about, a few inches at a time,
seeking a place of attachment. It has other methods of locomotion as
well. Hair-like growths that act like propellers, give it the power to
move slowly through the waters. Thus it creeps and swims, searching here
and there until it finds the resting-place it is after. Then it makes
fast to the place selected, and its shell rapidly enlarges. In ten
hours' time it has become as large as a grain of pepper.

And the bulletin's suggestions as to shelling oyster-beds, Alec noted,
were directly at variance with established practices. For Alec knew that
ordinarily the shells were spread broadcast, in an effort to cover as
much of the bottom as possible, whereas the bulletin advised the
planting of shells in windrows, placed transversely to the current, and
piled to the depth of ten inches or even a foot, so as to afford more
exposed surfaces than could be offered by shells broadcasted and lying
flat in the mud. For now Alec learned, to his astonishment, that the
tiny oysters do not necessarily drop downward in their search for a
place of attachment, but also rise upward. And since sediment does not
collect to any great extent on the under surface of bodies held in the
water, the under sides will afford the cleaner places of attachment. In
proof of this, the bulletin showed several shells that had been
suspended in the water for five days during the spawning season. Though
they were clean when put into the water, enough sediment had collected
in that short time to prevent the attachment of a single spat to their
upper surfaces, while one shell alone had seventy-three spats attached
to its under surface at the end of five days.

"Why, that's just common-sense," cried Alec. "Of course an under surface
stays cleaner in the water than an upper surface. Anybody knows that.
And shells heaped in windrows will present a thousand times as many
under surfaces as shells thrown flat in the mud. You bet I won't forget
that."

There were many other things that astonished Alec. He learned that
spawning activities are controlled almost wholly by temperature, oysters
never spawning before the water reaches a temperature of at least 68
degrees and generally 70 degrees, while spawning activity increases with
the increase in the temperature of the water. Alec saw at once that
there might thus be great seasonal variation in the amount of spawn
produced, and that a cold, cloudy summer might result in little or no
oyster fry being spawned, while a hot, cloudless spring and summer,
particularly if the wind did not stir up the water too much, would
almost certainly result in a tremendous output of oyster larvæ.

"Looks to me," said Alec, with characteristic insight, "as though it
wasn't worth going to the expense of shelling a bed if it happens to be
a very cold year," and he was pleased when in reading further he found
that the bulletin confirmed his judgment.

Furthermore Alec knew that deep water would remain cold while shallow
water grew warm. And as the oyster remains practically at the
temperature of the water surrounding it, he saw that here was another
problem to be considered in the greatest of all the problems that he
believed lay before him. That was the problem of finding a good oyster
ground. For Alec had no hope of ever being able to buy a ground already
established. Within a very few days such an established bed had changed
hands, and the price paid by the purchaser was $25,000. Of course this
was a big bed, but Alec knew that any productive bed at all would
command a high price. What he must do when he became a planter was to
stake out new grounds that he could get from the state merely for the
annual rental of seventy-five cents an acre.

To procure such a bed was a simple enough matter, but to procure a bed
that would be productive, where the planting of shells would result in a
good set of spat, was quite another matter. As the skipper had told him,
it was commonly believed that all the good beds had already been "stuck
up." That fact had been the most discouraging thing Alec had had to
face, as he thought over his plans for the future. But now light was
coming to him. One of the factors he must consider in the selection of
his grounds was water temperature. Depth was an important factor, and
so, too, was the movement of the water, for turbulent water meant cold
water, while still water meant warm water.

When Alec studied that portion of his book that dealt with tides and
currents, he fairly hugged himself for joy. Now he knew how to determine
the other factors in the problem of locating his beds. For the bulletin
told him that with the ebb and flow of the tide certain main currents
are produced over an oyster-bed which are quite definite in direction
and which vary but little from year to year, while the configuration of
the shore and the bottom produces smaller currents and eddies in
conjunction with these main currents. And these currents would have very
much to do with the matter of locating an oyster-bed.

For an abrupt ridge, or raised area of the bottom, will produce one or
more eddies, thus resulting in a region of slack water. Along the margin
of every well defined channel, areas occur where the water lags behind
that in the channel itself. And these areas are often so sharply marked
off that one may follow them without difficulty for miles, owing to the
appearance of the water. "Any one who has noticed these 'slicks,'" said
the bulletin, "has noticed the foam and surface debris which collect
there."

Many a time had Alec noted these slick stretches of water and wondered
at them, seeking a reason for their smoothness. Here it was explained.
But the full connection between a slick and an oyster-bed below it was
not apparent to Alec until he read, "The oyster larvæ, though
free-swimming, move so slowly that they are carried about by the
currents much as grains of sand would be. They, therefore, tend to
collect in these regions of slicks and eddies, along with a host of
other microscopic plants and animals. In such places there occurs a
heavier set of spat than elsewhere in that neighborhood. Find the oyster
larvæ in the water, then get your shells under them."

There was the secret Alec had been searching for. Now he knew how to go
about the selection of his oyster grounds. "Find the oyster larvæ in the
water and get your shells under them."

One difficulty alone seemed to present itself. As a deck-hand he would
be busy until the end of June, and by that time he feared spawning might
be nearly ended. How could he do his duty to his employer and at the
same time study the waters in the oyster-beds as he saw he would need to
do? But he was reassured as he read further and found that in the
Delaware Bay and other deep waters in New Jersey, spawning is a more or
less continuous process, running from the first of July to the latter
part of August.

Not even on that first morning at Bivalve, when he suddenly found his
condition changed from that of a shivering, hungry, penniless lad, to a
situation where he had a warm place to sleep, plenty of good food to
eat, and a generous wage coming to him daily, did Alec feel more elated
than he felt now. He had had a very rough experience. He had gone
through an unforeseen crisis, when all the supports had been knocked
from under his young life and he had suddenly had to stand wholly on
his own feet. At first he had had to choose what he would do merely to
exist. Later he had had to decide what he meant to make of himself. Even
when chance had put him on shipboard, and circumstances had almost
seemed to drive him to choose oystering as his calling, the situation
had seemed hopelessly difficult, so much of both knowledge and capital
were necessary, and both seemed so hard to acquire. And now, here in his
very hand, he suddenly found the map that showed him his path clear and
distinct.

No wonder he cried aloud for joy. Now he knew, not only where he was
going, but also how to get there. To be sure, it would take him years to
attain his goal. But that would have been true, no matter what he
attempted. There was nothing discouraging about that. There was nothing
discouraging about any aspect of his situation. He had a steady job and
was saving money, even though half his wages went to support his partner
in the shell business. The shell venture was certain to net him a
generous return. With his father's gravestone paid for, Alec had
practically no expenses, save for clothes and incidentals, and these
were small enough. He had no time for nightly diversion at some
neighboring town, even had he desired it, and he used neither tobacco
nor strong drink. The clothes he had worn upon his arrival were of good
cut and material. He had had them cleaned and pressed when he got
rougher garments for his daily labor, and these good clothes would last
for a long time. So he could save a goodly sum each week even on half of
his wages. If he continued to work hard and take advantage of every
opportunity that offered, he knew his income was certain to increase and
his savings multiply accordingly. No wonder Alec felt jubilant. No
wonder he felt as though he were already standing at the wheel of _Old
Honesty_, the ship of his dreams. No wonder, either, that he could not
discern the rocks that rose ahead with evil portent.




CHAPTER XVI

THE PLANTING SEASON BEGINS


Weeks passed. The oyster business grew duller and duller. More and more
ships were laid up for the winter. For days at a time the _Bertha B_ lay
fast at her pier. To a lad of Alec's energetic, impatient nature, it was
a trying period. There was so little that he could do. From bowsprit to
taffrail he already knew every rope and stick and implement on an
oyster-boat, and the uses of them all. He knew the various parts of the
engine and comprehended their functions. He had already learned how to
splice a rope, reef a sail, bend on a line, cast a hawser, and do a
thousand other tasks aboard ship. Ashore, he had inquired into every
phase of the oyster business he could think of. Like Alexander, he
sighed for more worlds to conquer; for it seemed to Alec as though there
was nothing new left for him to do. He felt like a soldier marking time.
He was going through the motions, perhaps, but not advancing. And to
Alec's impatient nature, that meant that he was wasting his time,
throwing away the only capital he possessed.

In reality his time was far from wasted. Though he did not realize it,
he was continually picking up knowledge that was to be of use to him.
Always he was on the alert. Ever he was asking questions. Continually he
was weighing this and that practice in his mind. And from night to
night, as he sat in the warm cabin of the _Bertha B_, talking with the
skipper and Joe, both of whom lived aboard with him, he absorbed a vast
fund of useful and practical information.

Of this fact Alec was hardly conscious. To him it seemed as though he
were merely killing time by listening to the engaging yarns of the
skipper; for Captain Bagley, like all real sailors, could tell the most
fascinating stories of the sea. But through the medium of these stories
Alec unconsciously picked up a great deal of information about the
waters he would have to navigate as an oysterman, about the currents,
the tides, the winds, the storms, the calms--in short about the very
things he needed to know. Whenever he heard the least thing that was
likely to be of use to him, he unconsciously singled it out and put it
away in the storehouse of his memory.

For to Alec, as to every real thinker, it was given to learn through the
experiences of others quite as much as through his own experiences.
Indeed, Alec early had seen the folly of learning through his own
experience if he could possibly learn through that of another. It might
be true, he knew, that experience is the best teacher. But he quickly
saw that he is a fool who learns only through his own experience. So,
although the time seemed to drag, and he chafed under the enforced
idleness, Alec was really acquiring something worth while all the time.
Any one does who is really desirous of learning.

But on one account Alec was not sorry because things were so dull. He
saw a great deal of Elsa. Alec's bright, cheerful ways had endeared him
to the entire Rumford family. The shipper welcomed him to his home
because he felt that he would rather have Elsa associate with Alec than
with most of the lads he knew. The others might be all right or they
might not be. Alec was true as steel. In a hundred ways the shipper had
seen him tested. He _knew_ about Alec.

Had Alec realized these things he would have been both gratified and
puzzled--gratified to know that the captain really did think so well of
him, yet puzzled to know why it was so. For in some ways Alec was
singularly childlike. At the captain's home or in the captain's presence
he had not acted in any way different from the way he always acted. What
Alec did not realize was how fine at heart he really was. But though
Alec did not comprehend these things about himself, the shipper
understood them readily enough. And he knew, as well as he knew
anything, that if he himself lived his allotted time, he would see the
day when Alec stood at the very top of the oyster business. It is just
as impossible to keep down a lad like Alec, as it is to dam back
forever the waters of a stream. Either may be held back for a time. In
the end both will break through.

One thing these days of idleness did for Alec that he did not comprehend
at all. They gave him to the last measure the full coöperation and
sympathy of Elsa. In an intangible way that neither understood or
appreciated their relationship underwent a very real change.

By this time Alec's plans for the future were beginning to take tangible
form. His ideas had crystallized. They were concrete enough to talk
about in exact terms. And Alec wanted to talk about them. He wanted to
discuss them with some one who could comprehend and sympathize with his
plans, and yet criticize them in a friendly, intelligent way. Jim
Hawley, though big of heart, hadn't the kind of mind to grasp what Alec
was aiming at; Captain Bagley would have been indifferent to the matter;
and Captain Rumford would have regarded Alec's plans as the veriest
rubbish. Besides these three, there were no men in the oyster fleet with
whom Alec would have been willing to discuss his plans.

Elsa met every requirement. When Alec told her what was in his mind she
comprehended exactly what he meant, she sympathized fully with his
position, she passed judgment on his schemes with the friendliest sort
of criticism. It was exactly the sort of help Alec needed most. It gave
him increased confidence in his own plans and stiffened his courage. He
knew that Elsa understood him and sympathized with him fully and he
needed such sympathetic understanding and encouragement if he were to
win through.

As the days lengthened and winter drew near to spring, there was more
activity in the oyster fleet. Planters began to inquire for shells.
Farmers began to bring loads of stakes with which to mark the
oyster-beds afresh. Boats were overhauled. Propellers were removed from
power craft or boxed in such a way as to render them useless, for the
law prohibited any power boats from going on the natural oyster-beds.
Nothing but sails could be used in dredging seed-oysters.

Then at last came the planting season itself, the great event in the
oysterman's year. From far and wide a huge fleet assembled. Every boat
that could still carry a sail and drag a dredge joined the assembly. The
river was fairly jammed with oyster-boats. At every pier ship after ship
made fast until the rows of boats extended far out into the stream. The
piers themselves took on new life. Now they fairly hummed with activity.
Ships were freshly provisioned. New supplies of all sorts were brought
aboard. Chains and dredges were examined and stowed in the holds. Great
crews were recruited, double or triple the size of the crews ordinarily
carried. From miles around came every able-bodied man to join the fleet.
Ships were continually passing to and from oyster-beds, where new stakes
were being put down and everything possible done in advance to get
ready for the actual planting.

Then came the great day, the first of May. On the afternoon before, ship
after ship cast loose and headed for the oyster grounds. Now Alec saw a
sight that stirred his blood and made his heart beat faster. Down the
river went the fleet, ship after ship, dozens, scores, hundreds of them,
heeling in the wind, their sails shining in the sun, like a wondrous
flock of huge, white birds.

Like schoolboys on a lark were the men aboard these ships. Like Alec,
they had chafed at their enforced idleness. The feeling of spring was in
their blood. The spirit of fun was abroad among them. Laughter rose from
every deck. Across the water voice called to voice. Old friends greeted
one another across the dancing waves. Skipper hailed skipper. To right
and left challenges were flung, and boat after boat picked up her heels
to prove her master's assertion that she was faster than her neighbor. A
dozen races were staged at once.

So the fleet proceeded, like a great covey of birds, out of the
sheltering river and into the open Bay. Across the oyster-beds raced the
rolling vessels, now spread out in wide array, pressing on and on until
they joined their fellows who had come before, and dropped their anchors
at the very side of the Southwest Line, where the state had said, "Thus
far and no farther, shalt thou go."

Now Alec witnessed a sight that thrilled him as few things in all his
life had done. Nightfall found practically every ship in the fleet
anchored near the line. North, east, south, and west of the _Bertha B_
oyster-boats lay at rest. Aloft a white light glimmered on every ship.
And as the boats moved ever so slightly in the gentle swell, these lamps
aloft swayed slowly back and forth, as though signalling one to another.
The weather was balmy, the night was lighted by a radiant moon. The
gentlest of breezes sighed through the rigging. The beauty of the night
drew Alec on deck as irresistibly as a powerful magnet draws a piece of
steel. For a time he stood by the ship's rail, looking at the gently
heaving water, studying the swirls in the tide, as they shone and
sparkled in the moonlight, listening to the gentle slap! slap! slap! of
the waves against the oaken sides of the _Bertha B_.

From her cabin, and from the cabins of sister ships arose the sound of
laughter, the noise of raucous voices. In the calm and holy beauty of
the night they seemed out of place. To Alec's sensitive soul they were
as discordant as the rasping tones of a horse fiddle. He wanted to get
away from them, where he could drink in the beauty of the scene
undisturbed; where he could steep himself in the spirit of the night. So
he clambered up the rigging and perched himself on the crosstrees.

Now he was like one in a tower. He could see far and wide. Beneath him
the white ships, huddled together, made him think of a flock of sheep,
herded for the night. And afar off on the dancing water Alec saw the
laggards of the flock hastening toward the fold. Like little white
specks they seemed in the far distance. Then, as they drew nearer and
nearer, their sails seemed to grow larger and larger, until suddenly
they appeared gigantic. With majestic flight, like the sweep of darting
gulls, they bore to right or left, seeking their places of rest. Then
came the faint splash of anchors, the rattling sound of tackle blocks as
the great white wings were lowered, and presently peace.

One by one the cabin lamps were doused, until only sailing lights shone
throughout the fleet. One by one the raucous voices were stilled, and
peace enfolded the nestling ships as a hen hovers above her little ones.
Still Alec sat in the crosstrees, watching the swaying lights, studying
the swirling waters, peering along the moon's broad path of gold that
seemed to lead straight from the little fleet to the Shepherd keeping
watch above.

When or how Alec got to bed he never knew. It seemed to him as though he
had only just turned in when he heard Dick punching up the fire. In a
moment he was afoot, for this was no time for laggards. It was well
enough to dream in the moonlight, when the day's work was done; but this
was the time for action, the time to turn his dreams into something
tangible. For before them lay the prize, free for the taking the moment
the sun's rising disc should touch the horizon. He who would grasp it
must be ready.

Throughout the fleet arose the sounds of preparation. Lights glowed in
every cabin. Lanterns bobbed on every deck. From every direction came
the creak of tackle blocks as sails were hoisted. Here and there
capstans clanked, as enterprising skippers hoisted anchor, to jockey for
more advantageous positions. For the moment the sun arose, the entire
fleet would sweep over the line in the race for the coveted oyster-seed.
Some boats were heading east and some were going west in the hope of
bettering their positions.

As the light increased, the breeze freshened. The water began to dance
beneath its touch. Over all rested a slight haze, intensified here and
there, by wisps of smoke from cabin fires. And curling upward from the
surface of the Bay, rose little cloudlets of mist or fog. Streaks of
color crept into the eastern sky, growing, little by little, until the
firmament was a gorgeous, glowing tapestry of gold, shot with purple,
pink, and orange.

From every side now rose the rattling of anchor chains, the clank of
capstans, the creaking of the tackle. In increasing numbers the
oyster-boats spread their wings and slipped away. Soon not a ship lay at
anchor. Like a mammoth flock of giant gulls, the oyster-boats were
darting here and there, their fresh, white sails shining in the morning
glow, as they bellied in the wind. Rare, indeed, was the sight; rare and
wonderful. For hundreds of ships were now in motion, the waves foaming
white at their bows, the spray splashing upward on their decks, and in
their wakes yeasty patterns of swirling water. At every stern stood a
silent figure, twirling his wheel now this way, now that, watchful of
the east and the mounting color there.

Now sweeping near the line, now darting away, now weaving in and out
among her sister ships, the _Bertha B_ skimmed over the waves with the
grace of a gull, about to swoop on its prey. Her crew were on deck,
ready to spring to dredge or tackle. Her captain stood at his wheel,
silent, watchful as a hawk.

Suddenly the fiery rim of the sun peered over the edge of the world. A
thousand watchful eyes beheld it, and a great shout went up from the
fleet. Over went the rudders, around swung the ships, and the entire
fleet darted straight for the line that marked their goal.

"Let go the dredges!" thundered the skipper, as the _Bertha B_ swept
over the mark, and a splash arose on either side of the boat as the
dredges struck the waves.

From hundreds of other craft dredges were falling into the sea. With
every sail set, the speeding oyster-boats tugged at their loads as
restive dogs straining at the leash. Now there was no engine to do the
hoisting; but men stood in pairs at the winders, ready to reel up the
windlasses and lift the laden dredge. How they worked! How they turned
their reels! How the dredges came plunging over the rollers! How the
oysters poured out on the decks! How the nimble fingers flew to cull the
glistening piles! How the shovels flashed, and the shells glinted in the
sun, as strong arms heaved them back into the sea! How the piles of
tiny oysters grew!

What a sight it was! From far and near, from east and west, from north
and south, from every oyster town about the Bay, came scores of boats to
add their shining sails to the great fleet. Look where he would, Alec
could see ships sweeping along before the breeze, their decks crowded
with toiling men, bulking high with oysters. Never, as long as he lived,
would he forget that scene.

Hour after hour the work went on. Basket by basket the piles of oysters
grew. The bow was full of them. The after deck was buried under them.
The cabin was hidden by them. Still the work went on. The _Bertha B_
sank lower and lower in the water, as ton after ton was piled on her
deck.

Suddenly there was a sharp command from the skipper. The dredges went
overboard no more. The _Bertha B_ heeled far over in the wind, swung
wide to avoid her sister ships, and headed for her oyster grounds.
Heavily she rode the waves, plowing bodily through them. Through the
fleet she sailed, over the Southwest Line, and on to her planting
grounds. Near and far, other laden ships sailed with her. And now she
had reached her grounds. How the shovels flew, how the tiny oysters went
splashing into the sea, flung far and wide from either side. Back and
forth, back and forth, sailed the _Bertha B_, while skilled hands spread
the precious seed.

Now her deck was empty. To the last oyster it had been cleaned. Sharp
about swung the little vessel, crowding on all sail, taking advantage of
every wind, hastening back to the seed grounds.

Day after day, in rain and in shine, in fog and when the sun shone
clear, with the wind whistling sharp and in days of calm, the _Bertha B_
sailed back and forth over the breeding grounds, and to and from her
planting beds. And every hand aboard of her toiled to his utmost. No
more did the little vessel nightly seek her harbor. No more did the
fleet sail in and out with each rising and setting of the sun. And when
the planting was finished, came the shelling of the grounds, the _Bertha
B_ daily bringing huge deck loads of shells to scatter on the bottom of
the beds.

During the spring planting days Alec learned what it meant to sleep in
the cradle of the deep. Sometimes the moon fell soft on the sleeping
waters, when he sought his bunk. And again inky clouds blotted out the
stars, and the wind soughed ominously through the rigging, or storms
whistled past the ship's bare poles, as she wallowed at her anchor in
the rolling waves. But soon it was all one to Alec. He was doing a man's
work. He was toiling like a Trojan. And neither the lure of the
moonbeams nor the roar of a storm could long keep him from his bunk,
once night had come.

By the end of June, when the planting season was over, and the _Bertha
B_ for the last time lifted her anchor and homeward winged her way, Alec
had become a sailor as well as an oysterman. He had learned a
tremendous lot, not only about oysters, but also about handling a ship.
Once he had thought he was a sailor, when he manoeuvred his little boat
at home. Now he smiled at the memory of those earlier efforts. They
seemed childish, indeed. For more than once he had been allowed to
handle the _Bertha B_ as she flew across the Bay. And he had picked up a
tremendous lot of information about currents, eddies, drifts, shoals,
tides, slicks, and storms. He was getting his tool-kit thoroughly
stocked indeed. It was well, for he would soon have need of all the
skill and knowledge he possessed.




CHAPTER XVII

A SEARCH FOR TRUTH


Early July, which saw the end of both oyster planting, and the shelling
of the grounds, found the pile of shells of Cunningham and Hawley
entirely exhausted. Where so recently these shells had risen in a
mountainous heap, there was now only bare earth, whitened with shell
chips. There had been thousands of bushels in the pile. When the
partners reckoned up their income and adjusted their finances, each had
a nice little sum of money.

The instant their affairs were settled, Alec set about other matters.
Long ago he had ordered and received the instruments that he knew would
be necessary in his summer's work. These included a compound microscope,
half a dozen concave watch crystals, two settling glasses, two graduated
cylinders, two glass pipettes, two large rubber pipettes, four small
medicine droppers, a ten-quart galvanized bucket, a simple lift pump,
some rubber hose, and a salinometer with thermometer enclosed. In
addition Alec had picked up some wide-mouthed bottles, for holding
samples; had fastened several needles in wooden handles he had whittled
out of sticks; and had bought a yard of bolting-cloth with very fine
meshes, from which, with Elsa's assistance, he had made a net, conical
in shape, fastened about a metal ring, with an opening at the bottom
that could be closed tight with a draw string.

Even by practicing what economies he could, Alec had had to spend nearly
seventy-five dollars for the outfit. More than once he had asked himself
if it was really worth while; if, after all, these old practical oyster
captains didn't really know more about how and where to grow oysters
than any mere scientific theorist possibly could. Wasn't he really
foolish to spend all this money? Wasn't he really throwing it away? He
had such need for it, in the purchase of articles more commonly seen in
an oyster fleet. His doubts had hurt and discouraged him. He needed some
one with whom he could talk the matter over. When he looked about, he
saw the same old situation. It was useless to talk to any of his three
friends, Hawley, Bagley, or the shipper. He knew that not one of them
would consider the matter from a serious, impartial, reasonable
view-point. So he had been forced to take the matter to Elsa.

"Never mind about the expense," she had counseled, when they had
discussed the situation fully. "You won't be spending as much for your
entire outfit as most young fellows spend for tobacco and the movies.
You'll have something valuable to show for your money, and what you buy
won't harm you, even if you shouldn't find it as useful as you hope."

"But suppose there's nothing in it, after all?" Alec had said. "Suppose
I buy my outfit and it doesn't do me a bit of good. What then? I can't
afford to throw away seventy-five dollars for nothing. I need every cent
I earn if I'm ever going to get anywhere."

"You _can't_ buy this outfit and have it do you no good," Elsa had
replied.

"I just guess I could. Suppose I bought the things and then didn't find
what I am after?"

"Even so, it would do you good."

"How?"

"Alec Cunningham! Sometimes I think you're the stupidest thing I ever
met. The idea of asking a question like that, when you've been working
and studying like mad for months to find out all you can about the
oyster business. Of course it will help you. If you find what you want,
you are benefited, aren't you? And if you don't find it, you're
benefited just the same."

"How?" Alec had inquired.

"Stupid. It isn't oyster fry you're after. It's truth. You'll get it, no
matter whether it pleases you or not. Won't you? You'll know whether
that bulletin is right or whether the old oystermen are right, won't
you? And that's worth a great deal more than seventy-five dollars, isn't
it? Why, Alec, if you don't go ahead and test the thing, you'll never be
happy. You'll fret and fret about it, thinking you ought to be planning
your work differently. And if you do go ahead, no matter what you
learn, you'll be satisfied. You'll know whether to follow old practices
or try new ones. Certainly it's worth a good deal to know you're right.
Then you'll know you must succeed if you keep on in the same way."

"Elsa," Alec had said, "I guess we are all fools at times. I had this
thing all thought out in my mind and my decision made; but when it came
to paying seventy-five dollars just to find out something, I hadn't the
courage to do it. You don't know how big seventy-five dollars looks to
me."

"Silly!" Elsa had replied. "Don't talk to me about lacking courage, when
you make a practice of jumping overboard to fish drowning men out of the
water. It isn't courage you lack. It's partnership. If you had somebody
to back you up, you'd never hesitate a second about this thing."

"Where did you learn so much?" Alec had answered, with genuine
admiration in his glance. "Do you know that's exactly what I need, and I
never before knew what it was that was wrong."

"Well, don't you let it worry you any longer, Alec," Elsa had replied.
"I understand you and what you are trying to do, and I think it's just
fine. And I'll stand back of you no matter what they say. I know Dad
will think you are foolish. He thinks anything new is foolish. But never
you mind. You just go ahead with your plans."

"That settles it," Alec had replied. "I _am_ going ahead, no matter if
it costs twice seventy-five dollars. I'm going to find out the truth at
any cost. Why, if a fellow doesn't know the truth, he's like a man who
doesn't know how to get to the place he's trying to reach. He may be
walking in the wrong direction. It wouldn't do him much good if he was a
good walker, would it? And just think how near I came to being a dummy
like that myself--all for the sake of seventy-five dollars!"

So the matter had been settled for good, and Alec had ordered the
articles, even laughing when it took almost his last cent to pay for
them. Now he had them at hand, and he was almost ready to begin his
search for the truth--the truth about the oyster fry.

He lacked only a boat. At first he thought he would buy a boat, but when
he found that the kind of boat he wanted, fitted with a good motor,
roofed over forward so as to make a little cabin, would cost several
hundred dollars, and take every cent he had made in his shell business,
he decided that he would rent a boat instead.

There was just such a boat as he wanted, for hire. It was about
twenty-five feet long, with a snug yet roomy cabin forward, a single
sail, which he could easily manage, and in the cockpit was a small
motor, neatly boxed in to protect it from the weather. The boxing could
be removed if one wished to run the engine. Alec secured the craft for a
reasonable sum, put his scientific outfit aboard, brought his clothes
and some bedding, and stocked the larder with sufficient provisions. Nor
did he forget his wireless outfit. The _Bertha B_, like all other
oyster craft, was to be overhauled during the summer, and be repaired
and repainted. Of necessity, Alec's wireless would have to be taken down
and he had already dismantled it and stowed it in a box before finding
the little sloop. Now he had only to carry his box aboard, and his
little craft was ready to sail.

The process of making ready went along merrily enough, but when it came
to sailing away, a trip all by himself suddenly lost its attractiveness.
Alec turned the situation over in his mind for some time.

Then he went to his partner in the shell business. "Jim," he said, "I'm
going out to the Bay in a little sloop I've hired, to study oyster
larvæ. Don't you want to go along?"

Hawley looked at him in blank amazement. "Alec," he said, "I'd do most
anything for you, but I sure don't want to go out to no Bay and study
oysters. I know all I want to about oysters already. Why, I been
ketchin' oysters for twenty years."

Alec appealed to Captain Bagley, with no better results. Finally he went
to the shipper.

"What fool's errand is this?" he exclaimed testily, when Alec laid the
situation before him. "Why, I've been expecting to keep you busy all
summer. I've got a job for you, helping about the boats. You can pay
your board and still be saving something all summer, instead of spending
all you've earned, like most of these fellows around here do."

Alec really felt grieved to refuse the offer. "Captain Rumford," he
said, "I appreciate everything you've done for me, and I thank you for
this offer. But I can't take it. This is the only opportunity I have to
learn about oysters themselves and I must take it."

"What nonsense are you up to now?" demanded the shipper.

"I'm going out to the Bay to study oysters," said Alec, quietly but
firmly. "I have my outfit all ready and I have hired a little sloop to
sail in. I'd be mighty glad if you would go out with me."

"Study oysters!" exploded the shipper. "Didn't you learn enough about
oysters on the _Bertha B_? And what better outfit do you want than a
pair of good dredges, eh? What are you about, anyway? What does all this
nonsense mean?"

It was useless to argue or explain. "I'm sorry we don't see things
alike, Captain," said Alec. "I believe there is more to learn about
oysters than most of us know, and I'm going to try to find it out. If
you won't go with me, will you allow me to take Elsa? I'll be back
early, sir; and I'll answer for her safety."

"Oh! I ain't afraid to trust the girl with you, boy, but you'll have a
dull time trying to study oysters, as you call it, with her on board.
She ain't one mite interested in oysters. She wants fun."

"I'll take a chance on that," said Alec, "if you are willing to let her
go."

Alec's confidence in Elsa was more than justified. He called her on the
telephone and stated the situation. She did not waste a moment in
unnecessary talk, but hung up the receiver the moment she understood
that Alec wanted her to help him, picked up a sweater and a
broad-brimmed hat, and hurried to the oyster pier in her little car.
Within a few minutes of the time Alec had called her, the two were
afloat.

The little craft that Alec had rented was an excellent boat. Built
rather for pleasure than for work, it was very comfortably fitted out.
Furthermore, it was the fastest little boat in the harbor. Its lines
were excellent, and it slipped through the water as quietly and
gracefully as a swan. Being equipped both with sail and engine, the
owner was independent of wind and weather, and could go where he liked,
when he liked. Unlike most of the boats in the harbor, this craft was
painted a dull, leaden gray, that almost matched the color of the water.
Alec was glad, for there would be none of the usual glare from the
summer sun shining on white woodwork. The glare on the _Bertha B_ often
made his eyes ache. He was glad that he would not be bothered in that
way on the little boat, for he would need to have his eyesight at its
very best.

With such an efficient helper aboard, Alec determined not to lose a
moment. He started the motor, and soon the little boat was shooting down
the river at a fast clip.

"It's queer this boat has no name," said Alec.

"Oh! It has a name all right, but the name was painted over when the
owner put this gray paint on. This is the _Osprey_."

"We couldn't have named her better," said Alec, "for we are fish-hawks
ourselves, to-day. That is, we are shell-fish hawks."

Elsa had often been aboard the boat before, but again she examined the
craft carefully, for she had long wanted her father to get a similar
boat.

"Oh, good!" she exclaimed, when she caught sight of Alec's wireless
instruments, packed away in the box. "If you ever happened to be out
over-night, we could talk to each other in the evening and I could know
how the work progresses."

"I expect to be out all the time until I get my work done," replied
Alec. "There is so much to be done and so little time to do it in."

"Won't I see you all this summer?" cried Elsa, and the look of real
disappointment on her face made Alec happy.

"Yes. I shall come home at the end of each week. Perhaps it won't take
me as long to do this work as I had expected. Why, do you know, I've
found out a tremendous lot about the currents and eddies and tides, just
from talking to Captain Bagley. And I had expected to have all that to
learn by myself. And I've been studying the captain's map of the
oyster-beds, and that has made my work easier, too. So much of the
bottom is already leased, that there isn't any use fooling around to try
to find out much about the grounds already staked out. What I've got to
do is to find out the best spots in the areas not yet staked."

"I don't agree with you at all," said Elsa. "What you want to know is
the whole truth, not part of the truth."

"But I can never hope to own land that is already staked out. Why, a
good bed costs thousands and thousands of dollars."

"Alec Cunningham," protested Elsa, trying to look severe, "you make me
so mad I could beat you. For a boy with so much energy and brains, you
say and do the most foolish things I ever heard. Now think over what
you've just been saying. Here you are working like a steam-engine, day
and night, to become an oyster-planter. You ought to know that if you
keep on this way, you'll get there sure. Everybody else knows it. And
yet you turn around and say you'll have to take the leavings, instead of
planning to take your pick. And you're going to find out half the truth
instead of the whole truth, and so cripple yourself. Isn't that enough
to make anybody mad at you?"

"But," expostulated Alec, "even if I do become a planter, I've got to
take what I can get."

"Of course you do. But there are more ways than one of getting a thing
done, aren't there? You've got this boat now, haven't you? You don't own
her, but, for the time being, she's yours. It might be the same with an
oyster-bed. My father often rents other men's beds, or works them on
shares, or buys the oysters in them. Some day you may want to do the
same thing. What you need to do is to know all the truth about these
oyster grounds. It isn't worth while to do half of a job. And that isn't
the kind of work you do, either. I know something about you, Alec
Cunningham. You've got no end of brains and energy, but your judgment
isn't always good. You need a guardian."

Both Elsa and Alec laughed heartily at the idea; then Alec's face grew
sober. "I'm beginning to realize that that isn't any joke," he said. "I
think it's because I haven't had any one to talk things over with. It's
pretty hard for a fellow to decide things right all by himself every
time." Then he smiled again, as he added, "I think it will be all right
hereafter, for now I do seem to have a guardian."

Elsa's face grew scarlet. "Oh! Alec," she cried, "I don't want you to
think I meant what I said--that is, not in the way it sounded. And if
you don't take back what you just said, I'll never talk to you again."

"I'll take it all back," said Alec, "just as Galileo took back his
assertion about the earth's turning round."

"How was that?" demanded Elsa.

"That's for you to find out," laughed Alec, and he would not tell her.

Soon they were in the open Bay. "Even if I do need to study all the
oyster grounds," said Alec, "I'm going to begin on the unstaked areas."

"Of course. You may find grounds as good there as any in the Cove. Then
you could get them direct from the state, at a minimum cost."

Alec spread out the map of the oyster-beds he had borrowed from Captain
Bagley. "We'll begin here," he said, "and work straight offshore. Are
you going to help me or just watch me?"

"Help you, of course. If I couldn't be of any more use than a
phonograph, there wasn't much sense in my coming."

"Then suppose you take soundings and test with this salinometer. The
instrument will give you the density of the water, and the thermometer
in the bulb will register the temperature. I've made several copies of
this map of the oyster-beds, and we'll mark our position with a cross
and write down beside it whatever we find. While you are doing that,
I'll be testing for larvæ."

Elsa took the sounding-line and dropped the lead into the waves, the
line paying out over her finger. When the lead came to rest on the
bottom, she noted the depth on the line. Then she took Alec's fountain
pen and set down the depth beside the cross Alec had made on the map.

"Just date it, too," said Alec, "and note down the stage of both wind
and tide. It's pretty well toward ebb now, and, if the book is right, we
oughtn't to expect to find many larvæ. They seem to drop down to the
bottom and anchor themselves during the ebb-tide to avoid being swept
out to sea. They come up when the tide turns, and we ought to find more
in the flood-tide than in the ebb."

Alec, all this time, was getting ready for his part of the work. He took
a galvanized bucket that belonged on the _Osprey_ and lowered it
overboard for a few moments so it would take on the temperature of the
Bay. Then he lifted it aboard, brimming with water, and set it in the
shade. Elsa thrust the salinometer and testing tube into the bucket to
cool. Then Alec attached his hose to his lift pump, and carefully
lowering the hose to a point within a few inches of the bottom, pumped
his own bucket, which had also been cooling in the waves, full of water.
It was the sample from the bottom, in which the oysters actually lie,
that he wanted to test.

Elsa drew her tube and salinometer out of the cooling bucket, and Alec
filled the tube with water from his own bucket. Elsa lowered the
salinometer into it and put the tube in the shade. Then she held the
bolting-cloth net over a tub, while Alec slowly emptied his bucket of
water from the bottom into it. The bucket contained ten quarts and Alec
had it brimming full. Gradually the water filtered through the net into
the tub, leaving on the inside of the net whatever sediment had been in
the water. In this sediment Alec expected to find the oyster larvæ. Ten
times they did this, until they had strained one hundred quarts of water
through the net. From time to time Alec threw the filtered water
overboard. Finally the net was lifted clear of the tub and the last of
the water allowed to filter through it. While Elsa held the net up, Alec
washed the sediment from the sides down into the tip of the net, with
water dipped from the tub. When the filtering process was fully
completed, and the sediment all concentrated in the tip of the net, Alec
carefully untied the draw string, opening the end of the net, and, using
his large rubber bulb pipette, washed the sediment into one of his
wide-mouthed settling bottles.

Now Elsa turned her attention to her salinometer. It was intended to
register the density or degree of saltiness of the water. Alec could
hardly restrain his impatience, so eager was he to see what the
instrument would tell.

"You know, Elsa," he said, "that sometimes the best seed grounds are in
waters of so low a density as to be entirely unsuitable for fattening or
even growing oysters. I've been thinking about that a whole lot, for
most of the oysters we dredged on the _Bertha B_ this year were very
poor. They hadn't fattened a bit. Captain Bagley said he never had
caught any good oysters in that bed. I've just been wondering if the
water wasn't of the proper density. Why, those oysters would have been
worth a whole lot more if they had been fat."

Elsa lifted the salinometer from the tube. "The water ought not to be
very dense here," said Alec, "for we're so near the shore and it's near
the end of the ebb-tide. There's fresh water pouring in all the time
from the tributaries."

They found, as Alec had surmised, a low degree of density. The reading
of the thermometer was also low. "That's what I expected, too,"
commented Alec. "This has been the coldest spring I can remember. I
thought for a time that I was deceived because I was out in the wind so
much, but the skipper said it really had been unusually cold this
spring. I asked him the other day. It doesn't look as though we'd get
much of a set this year. Why, that water is barely warm enough for
oysters to spawn at all. And this water close to shore ought to be
warmer than that farther out."

Elsa marked down on the chart the density and temperature.

"We forgot to make a note about the weather," said Alec. "Please add
that, also."

"It's going to take a long, long time to make a complete job," sighed
Alec, as Elsa noted down the weather. "I suppose I'll have to work at it
for several summers."

"I suppose you'll have to work at it every summer," said Elsa, "if you
intend to become a scientific oysterman. Don't you suppose conditions
change from year to year in the oyster-beds? They must, for lots of
times I've heard my father say he can't understand why the oysters in
some given bed don't fatten some years. There must be changes from year
to year. Whatever the reason was, I know his oysters have been poor
enough this year. I heard him telling mother the other night that it had
cost him hundreds of dollars because the oysters in some of his beds
hadn't fattened as they usually do."

From time to time Alec carefully lifted the settling bottle and examined
it. By the time a quarter of an hour had elapsed he said, "That looks
clear enough now to begin our count."

A distinct layer of sediment had fallen to the bottom of the bottle,
while the water near the surface was quite clear. This upper layer of
water Alec now carefully drew out with a pipette. The sediment became
more and more concentrated. When Alec had removed all the water he
dared, he washed the sediment into his graduated cylinder. Then, with a
medicine dropper, he transferred a very small portion of the sediment to
a watch crystal. Very gently, at the same time, he rotated the crystal
in his hand, slightly agitating it. Gradually the sediment seemed to
divide into two parts. About the edge of the liquid the lighter
particles of mud and other impurities seemed to collect, while the
heavier particles were concentrated in the centre of the glass. It was
in this central deposit of sediment that Alec expected to find the
oyster larvæ.

No wonder he was glad there was no glare of white paint to hurt his
eyes, for the work before him was enough to try even the best of vision.
The total amount of sediment in his watch crystal was so small that its
entire surface could be seen at one glance through the microscope. And
the oyster fry were presumably gathered in the tiniest of spaces in the
very centre of this tiny bit of sediment.

The actual counting of the larvæ might have troubled one unaccustomed to
the use of the microscope; but Alec was at home with the instrument. He
placed his watch crystal under the lens, adjusted the instrument to his
own vision, and with one of his wooden-handled needles began to pick
over the central windrow of debris. One by one he found and counted the
oyster larvæ, or what he thought were larvæ. There was no question
whatever about the largest larvæ. They possessed a reddish-purple hue
that is found in the larvæ of no other bivalve. Also there was a
distinct beak or bulge in the shell next to the hinge that he had read
about in his bulletin. So he was sure of the identity of the larger
oyster fry. But when it came to those more recently spawned, Alec could
not be so sure. He knew that there was no certain way to distinguish
between very young oyster and clam larvæ except by measuring them. This
he was not equipped to do. Nor did it make any material difference
whether Alec ascertained the exact number of larvæ in the water or not.
What he was after was to find the relative quantities of larvæ in
different places and at different times.

Under the microscope Alec found the oyster larvæ were a very beautiful
sight indeed. The reddish-purple color was very similar in hue to the
color of the muscle scar on the shell of an adult oyster. After the
death of the oyster, Alec knew, this vivid color rapidly disappeared.
Elsa was as much pleased as Alec had been, when she looked through the
microscope and saw the brilliant-hued oyster fry.

Little by little, Alec transferred the contents of the bottle to his
watch crystal and counted the larvæ. He found only a few dozen in all.
That did not surprise him for he had not expected to find many. The fact
in itself meant very little until he learned whether other portions of
the oyster grounds contained relatively more or fewer larvæ under
similar conditions. That was what he most wanted to know--where the
oyster fry collected, so he could do as the book suggested, and get his
shells under them.

Now that he had started the work, Alec meant to keep at it until he
found where the very greatest number of larvæ were concentrated, and
then try to secure the ground beneath. If he found good beds unstaked,
he could get them direct from the state. If some one else already had
claim to them, he could work with a view to acquiring them at some
future time. For the friendly scolding Elsa had given him had settled
the matter in his own mind instantly. He wasn't going to do any half-way
job.

Before noon, Alec had made tests in a number of places, working straight
out from the shore as he had planned. That gave him a sort of
cross-section of the bed, as it were. He decided that he would go over
the same ground again at once to see if the flood-tide made any
difference in his count. For by this time the tide had almost finished
running out.

At dinner time Alec and Elsa headed the _Osprey_ for a little point of
land near by. A tree growing back on the point offered shade. They
managed to get ashore, though it bothered them to find a place where
they could get near to firm ground with the tide so low. Then they
fastened the _Osprey_, and made their way through the rank marsh
growths, to the tree. They made a little fire, slung a coffee-pot over
the blaze, and toasted some Wieners while the coffee was cooking.

After dinner they went back to the boat and resumed their work, making
tests in exactly the same places they had tested in the forenoon. And in
the flood-tide they found many more oyster fry than they had in the ebb.

"Looks as though there wasn't much use working on an ebb-tide," said
Alec, "though, of course, I might find out after a while what the
relative number is in the two tides. But there is a lot I can do in
ebb-tide as well as in flood. I can take soundings just as well, and I
can examine the bottles even better. I'm going to try to make a sort of
topographical map of the bottom. It'll be a poor enough thing, at best,
but it will help me to understand about the currents. Then I can examine
the currents themselves at flood-tide for larvæ."

Their supper they ate on the _Osprey_. Then Alec hoisted the sail, and
in the gentle breeze that still blew, and with the incoming tide to
carry them, they sailed silently and swiftly homeward through the sunset
and the gathering dusk. Very different was the river from the stream as
Alec had first seen it. Now hardly a boat was visible. They passed only
one, _The Shark_, anchored apparently for the night.

"Elsa," said Alec, as they neared the harbor, "it has been a wonderful
day. It has meant everything to me. It will make my whole summer
happier. I see clearly enough that this job is going to become mighty
tedious. But the remembrance of this day will help me to stick to it,
even if I do have to work alone."

"You won't be so much alone as you think," replied Elsa. "You have your
wireless, and we can call each other every noon and night. We can talk
in the early evening and after Arlington sends out the time and the
weather news. If you are going to be out on the water so much, you will
want to get the weather forecasts, sure. It makes me nervous to think of
you all alone out on the Bay. All sorts of things might happen to you."

"Nonsense," replied Alec. "I'll be as safe and snug as a bug in a rug."

"I hope so. But when I think of you all alone out on that great expanse
of water, it makes me shiver. You might be caught in a big storm, or
pirates might rob you."

"I thought you had such good judgment," taunted Alec. "Now listen to
you."

"That's the very reason I'm cautioning you. Besides, who has a better
right to do so than your guardian?"

They both laughed at the joke, then Elsa said: "When we talk to each
other, let's telegraph. It takes longer, but not so many people can
understand what we say. Since you installed our wireless telephone,
everybody in the neighborhood has been getting one."

"All right, we'll telegraph. I'll call you up as soon as Arlington is
done sending. Then you'll know that the bogey man hasn't got me yet. But
seriously, Elsa, there isn't a particle of danger. Now I must hustle
back to the _Osprey_ or I may not get my wireless rigged up in time."

Could Alec have seen ahead through the darkness that was fast enfolding
the world, he would not have felt so sure about the absence of danger.
Once before he had thought himself safe when death stalked close to his
heels.




CHAPTER XVIII

A LONG CHASE


Not until Alec said good night to Elsa and started back to the _Osprey_,
did he realize how dark it was becoming. He had ridden all the way home
with Elsa in her car, despite her protest that it wasn't necessary. But
he left her at her door and started back at top speed. He had just
missed a trolley-car, and there would not be another for an hour. If he
hurried, he could walk back as soon as the next trolley-car could get
him there. So he tramped rapidly along. He could distinguish the light,
sandy road, but that was about all he could see.

Alec had moored the _Osprey_ at a little float some distance from the
pier shed. It was much easier to get on this float from a tiny boat like
the _Osprey_ than it would have been to crawl up to the piers. The float
itself was merely a small staging made of one or two large timbers with
planks nailed across them to form a walk. This plank walk was only a few
inches above the tide. So it was perfectly easy for Elsa to step out on
the float. From the float itself, a narrow walk made of single planks
laid end to end, and supported on cross-beams fastened to pilings
driven in the mud, led upward from the river to the solid ground. A
single rope, fastened along one side of this foot-bridge, was the only
protection against falling off the planks.

Naturally Alec made his way with caution as he neared the river. The
path to the little bridge led through the marsh reeds, which were head
high. Alec could see hardly a thing and had to feel his way along with
his feet. He blamed himself for his thoughtlessness in not bringing his
bright carbide lamp, or at least slipping his flash-light into his
pocket. Now he would have to be mighty careful or he would find himself
in the water again. He had had quite enough experiences of this sort, so
he went on with the greatest caution. Ahead of him he could occasionally
hear a loud voice, that was instantly hushed. He went on until he
reached the plank bridge, which he started to cross with the utmost
care.

The instant he was fairly out of the reeds, he knew where the sounds of
voices came from. Floating on the tide, close beside the plank bridge,
was a tiny house-boat, or cabin, as the oystermen commonly called it.
Alec knew that the cabin was occupied by a rough-looking man, named
Frank Hawkins, who had a great scar across his cheek, and whom he had
seen about the oyster wharves at times. Beyond the fact that Hawkins was
a rather rough character, Alec knew little about the man. He had heard
Captain Bagley say that the fellow never did an honest day's work in his
life. But Alec would have given small heed to this, had be not now
distinctly caught the name "Cap'n Rumford."

Alec stopped as though he were shot. The sound came from within the
little cabin, which Alec could now dimly distinguish, for faint rays of
light shone through the cracks of the shuttered windows and under the
door. The subdued hum of voices told Alec that several men must be
inside the cabin. He wondered why they should have shut up the tiny
house-boat so tight, as though this were a fierce winter night instead
of a warm, July evening. And he wondered why they should be eating at
this hour, for the smell of cooking came plainly to his nose.

For some moments Alec stood motionless, straining his ears to catch what
was said within the cabin. Suddenly it occurred to him that he was
eavesdropping. He started to move on, when again the same rough voice
that had said "Cap'n Rumford," boomed out, "We can get ten thousand
bushels." The rest of the sentence was drowned in a babel of protests.
"Shut up! Don't talk so loud!" cried half a dozen voices angrily. Then
the voices sank down to a murmur again.

Instantly Alec realized that something evil was afoot. What did all this
mean? Why should these men be whispering together in a tightly closed
cabin? They could get ten thousand bushels of what? That was easy to
guess. Ten thousand bushels of oysters, of course. That was all anybody
at Bivalve ever thought about--oysters. But why should they be getting
oysters now, in July? They couldn't sell them. What would they do with
them?

Then it came to Alec like a flash. They must mean seed-oysters. There
would be a ready sale for them, even in July. Of course everybody would
know the seed had been taken illegally, as the state beds were closed at
the end of June. But there were some oystermen dishonest enough to buy
them for all that. Immediately there came into Alec's mind the thought
of his first morning on the _Bertha B_ and the remembrance of the
oyster-boat that had fouled her. Distinctly he recalled Captain Bagley's
statement about Captain Hardy: "That fellow ought to be doing time in
Trenton. He's always up to something crooked. The last time they caught
him he was dredging illegally in the natural beds. He got off with a
fine but I reckon the next time he gets caught in any crooked business,
he'll go to prison."

Once more the voices in the cabin grew loud. "I tell you I know. I've
been pumping old Flint. He planted more'n a thousand bushels to the
acre." Again the great, booming voice was stilled by warning cries
within the cabin. "Shut up! Do you want to get us all in trouble!"

Alec heard a door open. Quick as a flash he knelt on the narrow plank
and crouched as low as he could. A shaft of light shot athwart the
darkness, though fortunately it did not fall on him. A head was poked
out into the night. "Nobody round," said a voice, as the head
disappeared and the door was slammed shut again.

Alec waited to hear no more. The instant the hum of voices again arose
within the cabin, he tiptoed down the plank bridge to the _Osprey_, cast
off his lines, and picking up an oar, sculled rapidly away from the
float. He had heard all he needed to hear, and seen more than was good
for his peace of mind. The head that had been thrust out into the night
was that of Jim Wallace, the very shell collector who had tried to buy
Alec's rattlers, and who had threatened him with harm. And though he had
not seen him, Alec was no less certain that the loud-voiced man in the
cabin was Captain Tom Hardy. The voice that came booming out of the
cabin was surely the voice Alec had heard that first morning on the
_Bertha B_.

Nor could there be any greater uncertainty about the meaning of Captain
Hardy's statement concerning the oysters. Captain Flint was the skipper
of one of the Rumford boats. Alec knew that he had made a heavy planting
on a new bed. Captain Flint was a good sailor and a capable oysterman,
but he had one failing. He liked to boast. Evidently Captain Hardy had
craftily drawn him out and had discovered what a thick planting Captain
Flint had made. The temptation was too great for the crooked oysterman.
He knew for sure that he could get ten thousand bushels of good
seed-oysters in one little bed, and get them very easily. Now he was
evidently laying plans to do it.

Alec's sole thought in driving the _Osprey_ out into the river was to
get away. He knew very well that if the lawless men in the cabin should
lay hands on him in the dark, and particularly if they suspected that he
had overheard any of their conversation, it would go hard with him. They
might even murder him. So he drove his little craft through the water as
fast as he could scull her.

But when he had put some hundreds of feet between himself and the river
bank, and no longer feared immediate harm, he began to think the
situation over calmly. He had no doubt that Hardy and his pals were
planning to steal the seed-oysters from Captain Rumford's newest bed.
But whether or not they meant to dredge them at once, Alec did not know.
Now he wished that he had not come away so hastily. If only he had
remained a little longer, he might have learned all about the plans the
thieves were making. He was almost tempted to go back and listen again.
He stopped sculling. Then his better judgment told him that it would be
foolish to take a chance like that. This time the thieves _might_
discover him; and if they did, he had no doubt whatever that he would
get badly hurt. He already knew all that it was necessary to know. All
he needed to do now was to inform Captain Rumford and to keep watch on
Hardy's boat, the _Shark_. Alec smiled grimly as he thought how aptly
she was named. Now he remembered that he had passed her on the way up
the river. She lay at anchor some distance down-stream.

"Moored her there so he could get away without being observed,"
muttered Alec to himself.

Alec decided he would go ashore and telephone to the shipper, and then
try to discover what the men in the cabin meant to do. He headed the
_Osprey_ toward the oyster wharves, but before he had gone a dozen
yards, the door of the cabin was thrown open and Alec saw a number of
men pass through the doorway. Then the door closed as suddenly as it had
opened, and all was dark again. Presently splashing sounds in the water
and the rattle of an oar told him that the men were getting into a boat.
He had no doubt they would go straight to the _Shark_. He was directly
in their path. There was only one thing to do--get away as fast as he
could.

Once more Alec swung the _Osprey_ round. She was so much larger and
heavier than the ordinary yawl boat that he could not scull her very
fast. He headed straight for the farther bank of the river, his heart
beating fast as he listened for sounds of possible pursuit. But no noise
broke the stillness and Alec knew that he was undiscovered. He went on.
Occasionally he heard a low voice in the darkness, and now he was
certain that the men in the boat were heading for the _Shark_.

When Alec reached the farther bank of the river, he rested on his oar
and tried to think what he ought to do. He knew that he ought to talk
with Captain Rumford the very first thing. But now he did not want to go
to the pier lest he lose track of the men in the yawl. They might board
the _Shark_ and sail away while he was in the office telephoning. Then
he thought of his wireless. Maybe he could get into communication with
Elsa at once, and if he could not, he certainly could a little later.
Instantly his decision was taken. He would stay in the _Osprey_ and try
to watch the oyster thieves.

At once Alec began to string up his instruments. Practically they were
already wired together; for he had removed the little shelf bodily from
the _Bertha B_ and put it in the box without detaching the instruments
from it. He would have to attach the battery again and rig up an aerial.
Immediately Alec fastened the _Osprey_ to a near-by piling. Then he
covered the windows of his little cabin so no light could shine out.
Finally he entered the cabin and closed the companionway tight. Then he
lighted a lamp. In a few minutes he had the shelf with his instruments
securely mounted where it could remain. He fastened the battery under a
bunk and connected it with the instruments on the shelf. He decided that
temporarily he would run his lead-in wire through the doorway. He would
fix it permanently when daylight came. So he attached the lead-in wire
to the single strand of uninsulated wire he meant to use for his aerial.
Then tucking his flash-light and his pliers in his pocket, he
extinguished his lamp, opened the cabin door, and went on deck.
Attaching one end of his aerial to a halyard, he hoisted it nearly to
the top of his mast. Then he fastened the lower end to the tiny
bowsprit, so that the wire hung almost parallel with the jib stay. It
wasn't much of an aerial, but Alec knew it would answer perfectly well
for the work he meant to do with it.

He went inside the cabin and tested the outfit. It worked perfectly. He
flashed his light on the cabin clock. It was not yet nine o'clock. He
made ready to call the shipper on the wireless telephone, then decided
he wouldn't. There really was nothing definite that he could tell him.
He could merely communicate his suspicions. After all, Captain Hardy
might not be going to rob the oyster-bed. If he alarmed the shipper
needlessly, the shipper wouldn't think much of his judgment in future.
Alec decided he would try to learn something more before communicating
with the shipper. At least he could keep a watch on the _Shark_.

Alec cast loose from the piling and made his way down the river. He
hugged the shore, for he knew that his little boat could never be seen
if he kept close to the tall reeds that grew in dense masses along the
bank. There was enough wind blowing to drive the _Osprey_ at a good
pace, but Alec dared not hoist his sail. So he sculled the boat slowly
along, ever on the alert. He knew that the _Shark_ was anchored in the
second reach. But he was well through this reach before he could make up
his mind whether the oyster-boat still lay there or not. So dark was the
night that he could see absolutely nothing of her. Suddenly he heard a
great voice bawling profanely at some one, and he knew the _Shark_ was
still there. Quickly came the creak of tackle-blocks. The sail was going
up. Then he heard the clanking of a capstan, though evidently the sound
had been muffled in some way. But it told him all he needed to know. The
_Shark_ was lifting her anchor. She was going to sail. Was she heading
for the oyster grounds?

For a single moment Alec hesitated. Then, "I'll do it!" he muttered
between clenched teeth, and he stepped to the halyards and cautiously
hoisted his own sail. "If I can't see their big sail," he reasoned,
"they surely can't see my little one." Then he went back to the cockpit,
took the tiller in his hand and started in pursuit of the oyster
pirates.

From time to time he could hear sounds on the boat ahead of him, but
gradually these grew so faint that he knew the _Shark_ was outdistancing
him. So he drew away from the bank and stood out boldly into the middle
of the river. As yet he had caught not a single glimpse of the _Shark_,
and he knew his own presence was utterly unsuspected. But the men on the
_Shark_ were sharp-eyed and it would not take them long to discover him
if the night grew lighter. And to Alec it seemed as though it were
becoming lighter. Perhaps that was because his eyes were growing so
accustomed to the dark. He did not like to think what might happen to
him if he fell into the hands of these men, so far away from any other
human beings. If they should harm him--he did not like even to think of
the word murder--he might never be able to warn the shipper about the
intended theft of his oysters. Now Alec saw that he had been unwise in
trying to trail these desperate men without first telling the shipper.

"I'll call him at once," said Alec. And again he hesitated. "What shall
I tell him?" he asked himself. "Wouldn't the captain be angry if I got
him out here and this proved to be only a wild-goose chase? I'll just
wait until I have something definite to tell him."

On he drove down the river. Afar off winked the range-lights. Off his
port bow East Point Light was gleaming. But no other lights of any sort
shone through the darkness ahead of him. No ship of any kind was riding
the waves before him except the pirate _Shark_--unless other ships, too,
might be running illegally without lights, endangering both themselves
and all other craft, even as Alec himself was doing. But there were
worse dangers than collisions to think of now, and Alec bent his entire
attention to the problem of locating the _Shark_.

Unmistakably now he saw the cloud-rack above was becoming thinner. Once,
for a single moment, he caught the gleam of a star. Then it vanished
instantly. On went the _Osprey_. Only with the greatest difficulty could
Alec make out the bank of the stream. Yet he managed to keep in the
current and avoid running aground.

Presently Alec knew by the action of the boat that he was coming into
the broad estuary of the river. The _Osprey_ began to heave just the
slightest bit. From the position of East Point Light Alec judged he must
be about over the bar. Ahead of him now lay only leagues and leagues of
tossing water. Gone was the protection of the reedy banks. He would have
to look sharp now if he was to escape detection.

Hardly had the thought entered Alec's mind, when for a single instant he
was certain he saw the _Shark_. Something white loomed ahead of him,
then the darkness swallowed it up again. But Alec had no doubt it was
the _Shark_. Glad, indeed, was Alec now that the _Osprey_ was painted a
leaden gray. "If only my sail was gray, too," thought Alec. "Fortunately
it's so old and dirty that it's almost gray. I don't believe they'll
ever see me."

He wondered what time it was. Stepping inside the cabin, he flashed his
light for a second on the clock. "Almost ten," he muttered. "I must get
ready to talk with Elsa."

He stepped forward and dropped his little anchor. Then he let the
_Osprey_ swing round until she was headed into the wind and tugging
smartly at her anchor cable. The sail flapped gently in the breeze. Alec
looked sharply toward every quarter of the compass, and seeing nothing
alarming, went into the cabin and sat down at his instrument.

Arlington was just sending out the time when he got his receivers
adjusted. He did not waste a second but began calling Elsa.

"3ARM--3ARM--3ARM de 3ADH--3ADH--3ADH," he flashed. Almost immediately
came the answer. "3ADH--3ADH--3ADH de 3ARM--3ARM--3ARM--K."

Alec heaved a sigh that was close to a sob. Until this instant he had
not realized what a strain he was under. He had been as tense as a
fiddle string. Now it seemed as though a hand had reached out through
the darkness and grasped his own. Fresh courage came to him. With steady
fingers he ticked off his message.

"Aboard the _Osprey_--off East Point Light--tell your father I overheard
plan to steal seed from his new bed. Believe Captain Tom Hardy, Jim
Wallace, Frank Hawkins, and others unknown to me in the gang. They went
aboard the _Shark_ and are heading out toward the oyster-beds. I
followed in the _Osprey_. So dark I can't see _Shark_. Will follow and
let you know if they dredge. Will you stand by? May need you."

"Father! father!" almost shrieked Elsa in her excitement, forgetting to
answer the message. "Come quick!"

Captain Rumford came running. "Oh! Father," said Elsa, "Tom Hardy and
Jim Wallace and Frank Hawkins and some other men Alec doesn't know are
going out to your new bed in the _Shark_ to steal the seed you planted
there. Alec overheard them and followed in the _Osprey_. He's going to
watch and tell us if they dredge any oysters."

"What?" bellowed the oyster shipper. "The fool followed them! They'll
murder him. Tell him to come back this instant!" And the oyster shipper
darted out of the room.

With a gasp of fear Elsa turned to her instrument. "Alec, come back,"
she rapped out frantically.

"What does your father want me to do?" asked Alec, disregarding her
plea.

"Come back," she answered. "He's gone."

But Alec did not understand that it was the shipper who wanted him to
come back. "I can't come back now," he flashed. "But I will the minute I
get the evidence we need. Good-bye, and please stand by."

"Alec," came the answer, "please come back. Your guardian commands you
to come back."

"I've got to save your father's oysters," flashed Alec. "Please stand
by."

"I'll stand by until I know you are safe. Please, please, come back."

There was no answer, and Elsa knew that her comrade was sailing out into
the darkness, possibly to his death. With clenched hands and chalky face
she sat tense, listening, listening, listening, but no word came singing
in her ears. She could only sit and hope--and fear.

Out on the black waters of the Bay, meantime, Alec was driving his
little vessel hot on the heels of the oyster pirates. With the utmost
caution he lifted and stowed his anchor, swung his boat, and let his
sheet pay out. Then, taking his bearings from the flashing lights, he
headed straight for the new bed. Again and again he searched the
horizon, but at first no slightest glimpse of the _Shark_ rewarded his
efforts. From time to time he cast an eye upward, studying the clouds.
Now he was certain they were becoming thinner. About the water itself
there seemed to be a faintly luminous quality. Alec had no fear it would
betray the position of his little craft, however, for in color it was
hardly distinguishable from the waves. It was his sail alone that he
feared.

On he went. Mile after mile, the little _Osprey_ followed the _Shark_.
Now Alec was able to catch an occasional glimpse of the pirate ship. But
these glimpses were so fleeting, so vague and uncertain, that had he not
been straining his eyes to discover just what he saw, he would never
have guessed that he was looking at a ship. There was a whitish,
luminous patch that stood out for a second, then vanished again in the
dark. But it was enough to tell Alec all he needed to know.

On they went. Minute followed minute. And to Alec a minute seemed like
ten. For every minute took him farther from land, farther from help,
nearer to danger. He was tense as a drumhead, his nerves were strung to
the tightest notch, his senses fairly aquiver. He began to wish he had
heeded Elsa's plea to return. But now his very pride would not let him
go back. He had committed himself. He would see the thing through.

Now he felt certain the new bed must be near. He must lessen his speed
or he might run too close to the raiders and be seen. He was in a
quandary. He dared not lower his sail. He did not want to tack. He was
running straight before the wind, directly in the wake of the _Shark_.
He knew that by the yeasty track in the water. But he must do something
to lessen his speed. He hauled in his sail so that it began to flap. He
was afraid the noise might betray him or his canvas be rent by a sudden
gust. So he paid out his rope enough to keep his sail steady, and went
on.

His speed fell off. It was time it did, too, for almost immediately he
heard a splashing in the water and the rattle of chains as they paid out
over iron rollers. The _Shark_ was dredging! And she was near at hand.
Nearer than Alec had imagined, too near for safety should the night grow
any lighter. For now Alec could faintly see the big ship. If only he
knew that she was dredging in the shipper's bed, he could tack and run
for port. But he did not know. He did not want to go back until he had
his evidence complete. How to get it, he did not for the moment know.
One thing was sure: he didn't dare go any closer to the _Shark_. He
would lie to and watch. He ran forward and dropped his anchor. Then very
cautiously he lowered his sail. Now he felt safe from observation as
long as it continued dark. He would wait for an opportunity to learn
what beds the _Shark_ was dredging.

But there was one thing Alec had not reckoned on. That was the powerful
night-glass in the hands of Thomas Hardy. Again and again the wary
skipper swept the horizon with his glass. Once he had caught the faint
gleam of the _Osprey's_ sail; but the darkness instantly blotted it out
again, and he had thought nothing of it. Now it was unmistakably
lighter. As the hawk-eyed pirate manoeuvred his ship back and forth, he
kept a watchful gaze shoreward, again and again sweeping the waters with
his glass. And in one of these searches, he discovered the _Osprey_.
With a startled oath he centred his gaze on the little craft. Then he
ordered the dredges reeled in. The instant they were aboard, he swung
the ship, and bore down on the _Osprey_.

All this happened so suddenly that Alec was caught unaware. Had he known
what was coming, so that he could get his sail up, he might have run
into the wind and outdistanced the _Shark_, for the _Osprey_ was a
wonderful sailor to windward. But the _Shark_ was half-way toward him
before Alec really knew what was happening. Then it was too late. There
was nothing to do but await capture and make the best of it.

There was still time to say good-bye to Elsa, however. Alec darted into
the cabin, threw over his switch, and flashed out a call.

"3ARM de 3ADH," he signalled, trying to quiet his pounding heart and
steady his trembling hand.

"3ADH de 3ARM--K," came back the instant response.

"They have discovered me," flashed Alec. "_Shark_ is bearing down on
the _Osprey_. I hear them hailing. Tell your father to hurry.
Good-bye--guardian."

White-faced, aquiver with fear, Elsa flashed back a reply and waited.
But no answer came ringing in her ears. For out in the lawless darkness
of the Bay, the _Shark_ had swung to, a dark figure had leaped to the
deck of the _Osprey_, a light had flashed in his cabin, revealing Alec's
identity, and he had been dragged roughly to the deck of his little
ship. With furious curses he had been flung aboard the _Shark_.

"Kill him! Throw him overboard! Hang the spy!" cried the angry crew, and
the lawless Hawkins had dealt him a furious blow with his fist, felling
Alec to the deck.

He knew that he must act at once if he was to save his life. Trembling
with fear, he sprang to his feet. The shell gatherer, Wallace, leaped
toward him.

"If you lay a hand on me," cried Alec, trying his best to appear
courageous, "you'll go to prison for it."

At the word prison, the pirate captain stepped forward. "I reckon we'll
go to prison if we don't," he bawled, in his awful voice. "We've got to
put him out of the road, boys."

"Captain Rumford knows I'm here," said Alec desperately. "He'll be here
himself pretty soon with some men you won't want to see. He's on the way
now. I've been talking to him by wireless."

Alec did not know that the captain was coming to his rescue. But it was
his only chance to save his life. He must carry the bluff through.

"You're a liar," shrieked Captain Hardy.

"I tell the truth. Didn't you find me at my wireless?"

"Did you?" roared the captain, turning to the sailor who had dragged
Alec from his cabin.

"He was working at some sort of an outfit. It might have been a wireless
for all I know."

"Hell!" roared the skipper.

He leveled his glasses. Afar off a glow of light became visible. The
party on the deck of the _Shark_ watched it breathlessly. It came on and
on. Suddenly a great beam of light shot through the darkness, and moved
slowly across the water. A search-light was sweeping the night.

"It's the _Dianthus_," roared the pirate skipper. "Our goose is cooked."
With sudden fury he turned upon Alec. "It'll be state's prison for
mine," he roared, "but before I go I'll fix you. You'll never spy on
another man."

He leaped toward Alec. The lad shrank back in terror. He believed the
desperate oysterman meant to kill him instantly. Still he kept a grip
upon himself.

"If you harm me," he cried sternly, "it will be more than state's prison
for you. It'll be the electric chair."

At that instant the search-light of the _Dianthus_ was turned fairly on
the pirate ship. The little group on her deck stood out like actors in
a spot light.

"Hell!" roared the infuriated Hardy again, as he stepped back from Alec,
his features working convulsively as he gazed in impotent rage at the
oncoming guard-boat.

In a few minutes more the _Dianthus_ ran alongside, and armed men came
swarming over the side of the _Shark_. At their head were Captain
Rumford and big Jim Hawley.




CHAPTER XIX

HOME AGAIN


With a bound, big Jim Hawley was at Alec's side. "Did they hurt you,
lad?" he cried.

"Not much," replied Alec, "but I guess they would have killed me if you
hadn't come."

Alec turned partly away to watch what was doing. The light fell on his
face so that the raw, red mark from the blow, now rapidly turning black,
stood out plainly.

"Who did that?" demanded Hawley.

"Hawkins."

"Jim!" rang out Captain Rumford's voice, as Hawley leaped toward the
cowering bully. Hawley stopped in his tracks. "We've had enough violence
already. Let him alone."

The shipper turned to the commander of the _Dianthus_. "You wanted
evidence before you would make an arrest," he said. "Here's your
evidence." He pointed toward the pile of seed-oysters on the deck of the
_Shark_. Then he faced Alec. "You saw them dredged, did you not?"

"Yes, sir. They came out of the bed just to starboard, sir."

Again the shipper faced the captain of the _Dianthus_. "That's my bed
and these are my oysters. I charge these men with theft and also with
assault and battery on this lad."

"You are under arrest," said the guardsman to the crew of the _Shark_,
"and we will shoot at the slightest attempt at resistance." He turned to
his men. "Search them," he commanded.

A revolver and an ugly dirk were found on Hardy. Wallace had some brass
knuckles in his pocket. The others were not armed.

"We'll just add a charge of carrying concealed weapons when these two
are arraigned," said the captain of the _Dianthus_.

"You'll have to watch them," said Captain Rumford. "They're a desperate
lot. They won't go to prison without a struggle."

"We won't take any chances with them," said the captain of the
guard-boat. "Get your irons, men."

The guardsmen produced handcuffs and in another moment Hardy and his
band of desperadoes were securely shackled. Then they were taken aboard
the guard-ship.

"We'll bring the _Shark_ in," said the shipper. "You take care of your
passengers."

"Hoist the sailing lights," said the shipper, as the _Dianthus_ moved
away into the darkness.

Alec pulled out his flash-light and hunted about in the _Shark's_ cabin
until he found her lanterns. He lighted them. While Jim Hawley hoisted
the white light aloft, Alec was fastening the red and green lights in
the rigging.

"Now make the _Osprey_ fast astern," ordered the shipper.

Alec leaped aboard the little craft and pushed her along the side of the
_Shark_, while Hawley pulled on a rope from her bow. In a moment the
_Osprey_ floated astern and Alec was back on the _Shark_.

"Haul those sheets a bit tighter," called the shipper.

Alec and Hawley obeyed the command. The shipper twirled his wheel, the
_Shark_ slowly gathered headway, and in a moment was sailing briskly on
the starboard tack.

"Now, you young rascal," said Captain Rumford, when the _Shark_ was
fairly under way, "tell me what all this means. Whatever led you to do
such a foolhardy trick? You had us nearly scared to death. Didn't you
know that those fellows are a desperate lot? It's God's mercy alone that
prevented them from murdering you."

"I think your own arrival had a lot more to do with it," laughed Alec.
Then his face grew very sober. "I think they really meant to kill me,"
he said. "I know they would at least have beaten me badly if the
_Dianthus_ hadn't appeared when she did."

"Tell us all about it," urged the shipper. "How did you ever learn that
Hardy intended to raid my bed, and what in the world ever made you do
such a foolish thing as to follow him all alone?"

Alec explained how he had overheard the conversation in the cabin. "You
should have told me at once," said the shipper.

"I started to tell you," said Alec. "Then I was ashamed to bother you
until I had something more definite to tell you. I was afraid you would
think I was suffering from a bad imagination. So I decided to wait until
I had something really definite. I followed the _Shark_ out to the
oyster-beds, keeping far enough back of her to escape discovery. At the
mouth of the river I stopped and told Elsa where I was and what I was
doing."

"It's a mighty good thing for you, lad, that you did. If you had waited
half an hour longer, we might never have seen you again. You've had a
narrower shave than you think, lad. The _Dianthus_ just happened to be
in the harbor. Her captain came up this afternoon to see me about some
business matters. There wasn't another boat in the river that could have
got to you anywhere near as quick. The minute Elsa told me what you were
up to, I jumped in my car and raced over to Bivalve. The captain was
just boarding a trolley-car to go away for the night. He didn't want to
come. Said he could arrest the oyster thieves any time I had the
evidence ready. I told him it wasn't a question of oysters but of your
life and that he _had_ to come. And you should have seen us come, lad.
The captain crowded on everything he had. But what I don't understand is
how you prevented those ruffians from murdering you, once they had you
in their power."

"They were going to murder me," said Alec, his cheek paling at the
memory of his danger. "I don't believe there's any doubt of it. But I
bluffed them." And Alec related what had happened on the deck of the
_Shark_. "If the _Dianthus_ hadn't shown her light just when she did,"
he said soberly, "I don't believe I would be talking to you now."

"Watch that boom," cried the captain. "I'm going to come about."

Alec dodged as the boom swept across the deck. Suddenly he thought of
Elsa, standing by at the wireless. "Oh, Captain!" he cried. "I must go
aboard the _Osprey_. Elsa said she would stand by in case I needed to
call her again."

"I reckon you'll have to talk to her, Alec," replied the shipper. "She
was just scared to death when she got your message."

The captain swung the ship straight into the wind. The sails began to
flap. The boat lost headway. Big Jim Hawley laid his hand on the
_Osprey's_ line and hauled the little craft close beside the _Shark_.
Alec stepped aboard of her. Flashlight in hand, he made his way into the
cabin and sat down at his instrument.

"3ARM--3ARM--3ARM de 3ADH--3ADH--3ADH," he signalled.

Instantly came the response.

"Everything O. K.," flashed Alec. "_Dianthus_ arrived and took Hardy and
his crew ashore. No difficulty. Nobody hurt. Your father, Jim, and I are
bringing back the _Shark_. We're some distance off the bar now.
_Dianthus_ is already in the river. Don't know how to thank you for your
help. I think you saved my life. Will tell you about it when I see you."

"I want to see you to-night," flashed back Elsa.

"Impossible," telegraphed Alec. "Won't be in until very late."

"I won't take no for an answer. You must come home with Dad. Say you
will."

"Maybe he won't take me," signalled Alec.

"Tell him if he comes home without you I'll never forgive him."

Outside Alec heard the captain bawling, "Are you going to talk all
night?"

"Good-bye," flashed Alec, and stepped out on deck. Then, "Aye, aye,
sir," he called. "Be there as soon as I hoist this light." He lighted
his lantern and ran it aloft. Then he climbed aboard the _Shark_.

"Your daughter ordered me to tell you, sir," he said, "that she'll never
forgive you if you don't bring your wireless man home with you."

"Oh! She did, eh? I suppose the wireless man has no wishes in the matter
himself!"

Alec blushed. "Captain Rumford," he said, "you know I like to come to
your house whenever I properly can. It's more like home to me than any
other place in the world."

"God bless you, lad!" said the shipper, his tone instantly changing. "We
should have missed you sadly if anything had happened to you to-night.
You certainly shall go home with me and you shall spend the night there.
I don't like the idea of your sleeping alone on that little boat, after
what has happened. Remember now. You must watch like a hawk or somebody
_will_ get you. Hardy and his gang have lots of friends, and if they get
a good chance they'll harm you. So be on your guard at all times and
places."

"Thank you, sir," said Alec. "I don't think they'll catch me off my
guard. I've had enough experience since I came to Bivalve to make a
statue watchful."

Quickly the _Shark_ gathered headway, and was soon bowling along toward
her pier. "She's a nice stepper," said the shipper. "She's built for
speed. I reckon old Hardy found speed useful in his business. But I
guess he'll soon learn that slow but sure is a good motto after all. I
think he'll make a pretty long visit to Trenton. And I don't believe
he'll ever show his face around here again. He's done as an oysterman,
at least at Bivalve."

Captain Rumford fell into a brown study. He was so deep in thought that
he almost forgot what he was doing, which was something very unusual.

Presently Hawley spoke out of the darkness forward, where he was on
watch. "Hadn't we better go about, Cap'n?" he said in a deep, quiet
voice.

Captain Rumford woke up with a start, strained his eyes into the
darkness, then twirled his wheel like mad. "Look out for the boom!" he
said, then added, with a laugh, "Wouldn't they have given me the laugh
if I had laid the _Shark_ up on the bank. And she'd have been there in
about sixty seconds more."

The _Shark_ wore away on the other tack, but Captain Rumford did not
forget himself again. "Jim," he called presently.

"Aye, aye, sir," came the big sailor's response from the forepeak hatch
where he was sitting.

"Come here a moment."

As the big sailor made his way aft, the shipper said, "Hawley, it kind
of runs in my mind that you once had some sort of a claim to Hardy's
oyster-beds. Am I right?"

"I owned them once," said Hawley.

"You owned them! Why, I never knew that. How'd Hardy come to get them?"

"You see, sir, I staked out them beds years ago when everybody else was
plantin' in shallow water. You know them beds is out deep. Everybody
laughed at me. Of course I never had no outfit to work 'em, but I
figured that some day I might get a boat somehow. And then, too, I
noticed that every year planters were putting seed farther out. I
figured they'd reach my beds after a bit, and if I couldn't do anything
more, I could at least get a few loads of shells down and maybe get a
set of spat from the other beds. And I would, too, if I had kept hold of
them beds. Why, Lord bless you! Look where they are now--right in the
middle of the oyster-beds."

"Why didn't you hang on to them, Jim?"

The big sailor hung his head. "I got to drinkin', Cap'n. You know how I
used to hit it up. Hardy got me into a poker game, and when all my money
was gone, I put up my oyster-beds and he got them, too. I reckon he had
a crooked deck, too."

"I reckon you're right. Everything about that fellow seems to have been
crooked."

For a time there was silence. The _Shark_ sailed swiftly on. She was now
well up the river. Soon the solitary light at Bivalve shone close at
hand. Then the shipper laid the _Shark_ skilfully alongside the pier.
They bade good night to Hawley, and in another moment Alec and the
shipper were bowling homeward in the captain's motor-car. At least it
seemed to Alec as though he were going home.

It seemed even more like home when the shipper threw open the door and
ushered Alec into the big house. For his own mother and sister could
hardly have given Alec a more cordial welcome than Mrs. Rumford and Elsa
gave him. Despite that welcome Alec suddenly became self-conscious and
bashful. He was embarrassed by the warmth of the greeting given him.
Also he saw in Elsa's eyes a light he had never seen there before. Had
he but known it, a similar light was shining in his own eyes. His heart
beat with strange and unaccustomed irregularity. More than once he
flushed like a schoolgirl. He felt curiously awkward and at the same
time unaccountably happy. Now he realized that Elsa would never be the
same to him in future as she had been in the past. His lonely vigil in
the dark, his hour of supreme danger when only the hand of this girl
comrade thrust out through the night had saved him from death, had
revealed to him the inner meaning of the friendship that had sprung up
between them.

A question arose in his mind, a question that seemed more important to
him than anything else in the world. Yet he could not ask that question,
and he knew it would be a long, long time before he dared. Still he did
not need to ask any question to learn his answer. He could read it in
Elsa's eyes. The hour of peril, when she had sat in mute apprehension,
listening, listening, listening, breathless in her fear, had told Elsa
also that she could never again think of Alec in the old way.

So, although Alec at first was unaccountably ill at ease, he was happier
than he had ever been in his life. He was happy in what he saw in Elsa's
eyes. He was also happy in the thought that he had been true to the
shipper, that he had not betrayed the captain's confidence, that he had
really saved his friend and benefactor from great loss. And that was no
little thing for a lad still in his teens.

Of course time went by unobserved. Nobody at that Rumford household
cared a farthing that night how fast the time went or how late it was.
Once more Alec had to relate every incident in connection with his
adventure, from the moment he left the Rumford house in the early
evening to the moment he returned to it after his rescue from the
oyster pirates.

When all the story had been dragged from the reluctant lad, the shipper
once more expressed his opinion of Alec's folly in wasting his time over
the silly notion that a microscope and a thimbleful of sea water would
tell him anything about the value for oyster-culture of a piece of land
three fathoms under the waves. Instantly Elsa flew to Alec's defense.

"Now, father," she said, "Alec is doing just what he ought to do, and
you ought to be the last person in the world to discourage him. He's
going to find out the truth even if he doesn't find the oysters he hopes
to, and that's worth a lot."

"Well, all he finds out won't begin to make up for the money he'll lose
while he's finding it out," said the shipper dogmatically. "If there had
really been anything to find out, don't you suppose we would have found
it out in all these years? Why, I've been oystering thirty years and I
never heard of such nonsense before. But I suppose boys will be boys. We
all have to have our fling. Now that I know you're both so set on this
foolishness I wouldn't say another word if it wasn't for this business
to-night. Alec means to live aboard the _Osprey_ most of the summer and
I don't like the idea. Why, anybody can come aboard of her in the middle
of the night and do anything he likes. We can't always be waiting on the
wireless to get this youngster out of trouble. I tell you I don't like
it."

At the mention of danger to Alec, Elsa's face went pale. Presently she
fell into a brown study, from which she awoke only when she heard her
father say, "For goodness sake! Look at the clock! We must be getting to
bed."

He and Mrs. Rumford bustled off, after bidding Alec a hearty good night.
"Now, don't you youngsters stay up any longer," said the captain, when
Elsa lingered behind.

"We won't," said Elsa. Then she turned to Alec. "It makes me sick to
think of you alone in the _Osprey_ at night, now that you have had this
trouble with Tom Hardy. Yet you mustn't quit your investigation, either,
Alec. Won't you come home at night and sleep ashore?"

"I can't, Elsa. Think of all the time I should waste, sailing back and
forth. I can never get over all the oyster grounds as it is. But I can
do a great deal if I am right on the job all the time. And besides, I
don't really believe there's any danger at all. That gang has had a
lesson that will make them pretty careful. They have seen what wireless
will do, and they can never be sure what I might do with it."

"You mustn't trust to the wireless, Alec. You must be on your guard all
the time. If you insist upon sleeping in the _Osprey_, you must pass the
nights where nobody can find you. I know a place where you can hide
easily, where you couldn't be found in a week. To-morrow I'm going out
to the Bay with you and show you the place. I shall feel better about
you when I know you are safe there at night. I wouldn't ever run in to
the place until after dark. Then if you douse your light nobody can see
where you go, and your hiding-place will never be known."

"Bully for you!" cried Alec. "I needed help to-morrow the worst way
possible. I'm going to study old Hardy's oyster-beds, and I want to make
the best job possible."

"Whenever you need help, Alec, don't hesitate to ask me. I'll help you
whenever I can."

"Elsa," said Alec, his eyes shining, "nobody ever had a better friend
than you have been to me. I owe my life to you. I can't tell you----" He
broke off short, afraid to say any more.

Just then a great voice boomed in the hallway. "Are you youngsters going
to talk all night?"

"Good night," said Elsa. She held out her hand to Alec. And he was a
surprisingly long time letting go of it.




CHAPTER XX

THE OSPREY'S NEST


Despite the late hour of retirement, the shipper's household was astir
at the usual time next morning, and that was pretty early. The minute
breakfast was eaten the shipper hurried away to superintend the
overhauling of his boats, and Elsa and Alec drove to the oyster wharf,
laden with a generous luncheon that Mrs. Rumford had packed for them.

"We'll need a setting-pole," said Elsa, as they were about to board the
_Osprey_. "It will be necessary to push the boat into the little harbor
I'm going to show you."

Alec borrowed a setting-pole and the two were soon afloat. The day
promised to be hot. The sun had risen like a ball of fire. Hardly a
cloud flecked the wide expanse of blue sky. But there was a fair breeze
blowing, which promised to temper the heat. But neither Elsa nor Alec
cared whether it was hot or cold. They were together, and they were
engaged in a business of prime importance. Life had a zest that could
have been found in no mere idle holiday.

With business of such importance to perform, they could not wait for
the winds to carry them, but Alec started his motor and the _Osprey_
went chugging swiftly toward the oyster grounds. About them rose a very
sea of reeds and other marsh growths, now beautiful in their soft green,
summer hues, and stretching level as a floor.

In a surprisingly short time the _Osprey_ had crossed the bar and was
fairly in the Bay. The gray-green water rolled so gently before the soft
breath of the wind that the _Osprey_ rose and fell hardly at all.
Occasionally a little wave came slap! against the boat, sending a shower
of spray aboard, but the occupants of the boat merely laughed when they
were sprinkled.

Suddenly Alec bent forward and fastened his gaze on some distant object.
Then, after a moment's study, "What do you suppose those white things
are on those stakes?" he asked.

Elsa looked. "Pieces of white cloth," she said after some study.

Alec was puzzled. "You notice that all four corners of the bed are
marked with white," he said.

The _Osprey_ drew near to the marked stakes. Alec turned and faced
landward. "I know what it means," he cried. "That's your father's new
bed. It's right in line with both sets of landmarks. Those thieves must
have marked the stakes sometime during the day, so that they could see
the corners easily in the dark. It can't be very much farther to Tom
Hardy's bed. Hawley told me how to locate it. I reckon it'll be on the
market before long. I want to have a good look at it."

Alec paused to think over Hawley's directions. "There!" he cried
suddenly. "See that dead tree with the fish-hawk's nest in it? It's just
in line with those three big oaks that stand by themselves. We're all
right in that direction. Off here we ought to have a little clump of
trees directly in line with the first range-light." He turned and
studied the shore-line in the other direction. "There! Now we've got it
exactly," he cried a moment later. "This must be Hardy's bed."

"There are some corner stakes," said Elsa. And after a moment's search,
she added, "There is another corner."

Quickly they found a third corner, but the stakes that marked the fourth
corner were missing entirely. "It doesn't matter," said Alec. "Three
corners are just as good as four. This bed looks as though it were
oblong and at least twice as wide as it is long. When he staked it out,
I suppose Jim Hawley reckoned he could dredge faster if he could plow
long furrows, as the farmers back home would say. It isn't a bad idea.
I'll keep it in mind when I lay out my grounds. It's making so many
turns that wastes time, whether you're dredging or plowing."

"What shall we do first?" said Elsa. "Let's get right to work."

"We'll take soundings," said Alec. "We'll make a few turns right across
one end of the bed, then try it lengthwise. We want to make a very
thorough study of these grounds, for if Captain Hardy didn't steal his
oysters, then he's got a very good bed."

From the cabin Alec brought a big sheet of paper, which he fastened to
the cabin-top. On it he marked the positions of the four corner stakes.
"This will give us plenty of room to make notes on," he said. "Later we
can copy what we like on the map of the beds. I'll just put down the
date and the state of the tide and the weather." He wrote on the paper
and handed his pencil to Elsa. "I'll sound if you'll make the entries,"
he suggested.

"I can steer, too," said Elsa. She took the paper and sat down by the
tiller.

Alec closed the throttle of the engine. The _Osprey_ at once dropped to
very low speed. Alec got his line ready, and lowered it. "Fifteen feet,"
he called. Elsa entered the figures on the temporary chart. A few
fathoms away he cast the lead again. "Fourteen feet, nine inches," he
called. A few rods farther along the line registered fifteen feet, one
inch. So it went straight across the bed, the bottom being practically
level.

"I'll make one more cast," said Alec. "Then you swing her to port and
we'll cut right back across the bed again."

The _Osprey_ was almost at the outer boundary of the grounds. Alec
dropped his lead. "Hello!" he cried in surprise, as he watched the line.
"Got eighteen feet here! That's funny. Just keep her straight for a few
rods. I want to see how wide this hole is." The depth continued constant
at eighteen feet. "That's queer," commented Alec. "Bring her about.
We'll see how it is a few fathoms farther down-stream."

Elsa brought the _Osprey_ about as directed. "Still eighteen feet," said
Alec, sounding repeatedly. They came to the boundary of Hardy's bed.
"Eighteen feet," called Alec. Before Elsa could get it written down, he
called again, "Fifteen feet." And eighteen feet it continued all the way
across the bed.

Once more they came about and crossed the bed still farther down-stream.
Again the lead showed fifteen feet, almost to the edge of the bed, when
the line suddenly paid out an additional three feet.

"We'll just cover the entire bed this way," said Alec, "instead of
running lengthwise as we had planned. It looks to me as though there is
a regular trough in the bottom, running right along the edge of this
bed. I'd like to know how wide and how long it is. I wonder what ever
could have scooped out such a furrow in the mud."

They kept on, crossing and recrossing the oyster-bed, until they had
sounded it from end to end. And at every trip across the bed they got
practically the same figures--fifteen feet in Captain Hardy's grounds
and eighteen along the edge.

"Do you know," said Alec, when he had finished sounding and had reeled
up the line, "I once read that the Hudson River can be followed to sea
for three hundred miles. That is, there is a distinct furrow or channel
in the ocean bottom leading straight from the mouth of the Hudson, as
though something had come down that stream and gouged a great ditch in
the ocean floor. I reckon it must have been done centuries ago by
glacial ice or something of the sort. Anyway, it looks to me as though
there is something like that ditch right here in the bottom of the
Delaware Bay."

"I wonder what could have made it?" queried Elsa. "Would it make any
difference in the oyster-beds along it?"

"By George!" cried Alec, suddenly afire with an idea. "It would make a
thundering big slick, that's what it would do, and if my oyster bulletin
is correct, that ought to be a prime place for larvæ." He began to
examine the water carefully. "That's exactly what it does," he cried,
after studying the water far and wide. "We're right in the slick now.
It's so big we didn't notice it."

"I guess we were too busy talking to pay attention," suggested Elsa, "or
we should have noticed it long ago."

"Well, I can hardly wait to test the water and see what we find," said
Alec. "Conditions are just right this morning. The tide has about three
feet to rise yet. There ought to be as many oyster fry swimming about
now as there ever will be. We'll make as many tests as we can. And we
won't strain out so much water as we did the other time. It takes too
long. If we test twenty-five quarts of water, that will give us enough
to go on. Then we can make more tests."

Quickly Alec had his instruments ready and they began to strain water
from the bottom through the bolting-cloth net. Then the sediment was
washed into a bottle. While that was settling, they moved on to another
spot and strained more water. So they continued until they had several
bottles settling.

"Now you begin to count the larvæ," suggested Elsa. "The sediment has
all settled in those bottles that we filled first. I will strain out
more water while you are using the microscope."

As rapidly as he could, Alec got the sediment on his watch crystals and
counted the larvæ. As long as he could hold himself to the trying task
Alec continued with his eye to the microscope, picking over the
crystalfuls of sediment with his little needles.

"The water's full of them," he cried at last, leaving his microscope.
"It's been a mighty poor spawning season, with so much cold weather,
though it's warm enough to-day. Yet right here there is no end to the
spat. There are ten times as many larvæ here as we found in that ground
we tested the other day. Why, that twenty-five quarts yielded 3,400
larvæ," and he picked up the bottle he had just emptied. "The bed's just
swarming with spat."

He stepped to the engine and threw on more power. Then he took the
tiller. "I want to test a sample from that trough or ditch. And by the
way, I'll just sound as we go."

He got out the sounding-line again, and Elsa steered the boat while Alec
took soundings. Almost uniformly the depth continued at eighteen feet.

"We must have come five hundred yards," said Alec. "We'll try it here."
He stopped the engine, and they strained twenty-five quarts of water
from the bottom. When it had settled sufficiently, Alec worked the
sediment out on a watch crystal. Then he began to count.

"Now what do you think of that!" he cried, when he had finished his
count. "Only twenty-five larvæ I could be sure of in all that water!
It's just as the book says. The fry are all collected in that slick.
That bed of Hardy's must be one of the very best in the Bay. If only Jim
still owned it!"

By this time it was long past the dinner hour, but the two had been so
intent on their work that they had paid no attention to the time. Now,
however, Alec suddenly awoke to the fact that he was ravenous. "I could
eat a shark," he cried. "Let's go to the shore at once and have dinner."

He started the engine and they headed for the point where they had
previously eaten. With the tide so well up, they had little difficulty
in getting ashore. Alec gathered dry sticks and fixed the fireplace,
while Elsa unpacked the basket Mrs. Rumford had given them. Among other
things, there was a fine cut of beefsteak.

"Oh boy!" exclaimed Alec, when he saw it. "I'm so hungry I could eat it
raw."

His fire was already ablaze. He let it burn down to coals, then added a
few twigs at a time. Over this tiny flame Elsa cooked the steak in a
little skillet. Alec, meantime, brought water from the _Osprey_ and got
the coffee ready to cook the instant the steak was done. He also placed
a heavy blanket on the ground under the sheltering tree, and here they
spread out all the good things Mrs. Rumford had given them. There were
pickles and hard-boiled eggs, and sandwiches, and cakes, not to mention
bread and butter and jelly, the steak and the coffee.

"Gracious!" said Alec, when the basket was at last empty. "Your mother
must have thought she was packing lunch for a regiment."

"She has seen _boys_ eat before," said Elsa mischievously.

"From which I infer," retorted Alec, "that you do not wish anything to
eat yourself. It's just as well, for I think I can get away with all
that steak myself. Please pass it over."

He took the frying-pan away from her, but it was only because the steak
was cooked and he wanted to sling the coffee-pot over the fire.

Elsa looked distressed. "Aren't you going to give me any of that steak?"
she cried in pretended consternation.

"I understand from your remarks that this was all intended for me,"
teased Alec.

"It will be first-degree murder if you don't give me some," said Elsa.
"I'll surely die of starvation in a few minutes if I don't get something
to eat."

At the word murder, the fun died out of Alec's eyes. "Please don't," he
said, "not even in fun. That word murder has come to have a very ugly
sound to me in the last twenty-four hours."

They were silent a moment. Then such a soft light crept into Elsa's eyes
that Alec had to jump up and tend the fire to keep control of himself.

At last the meal was eaten. "I'm too full to do another stroke of work,"
said Alec.

"Then we'll go take a look at the little harbor I have picked out for
you."

They poured water on the fire to make sure it was completely
extinguished, then gathered up the remnants of the feast, and once more
boarded the _Osprey_. For half a mile they chugged along the shore. Then
they came abreast of a little clump of trees that rose some few hundred
feet inland, apparently in the very heart of the marsh.

"There's your harbor," said Elsa, pointing to the tree clump.

"But how are we going to get to it?" demanded Alec, searching everywhere
for an inlet.

"Wait until the largest two trees come in line," said Elsa. "Then go
straight in."

Alec slowed down the _Osprey_ and continued along the shore until the
trees indicated were in line. Then he headed directly toward them. In
the reeds that lined the shore he noted a tiny opening, like the mouth
of the merest tunnel; but it proved to be both wider and deeper than he
would have believed. The reeds that choked the little channel bent to
right and left as the _Osprey_ slowly forged ahead, then swiftly righted
themselves, forming a screen behind the boat. Had there been no mast in
the _Osprey_, she would have been completely concealed before she had
gone a hundred feet. The clump of trees stood not more than five hundred
feet from the open water of the Bay. The little channel ran almost
straight toward it. Alec shut off his engine and pushed the _Osprey_
along with the setting-pole. The little boat slipped through the reeds
as quietly as a floating duck. As they came near the trees, Alec saw
that there were really two clumps of them standing close together on two
tiny islands, with the tiniest little channel between them. Alec pushed
the _Osprey_ forward until it came to rest in this little channel,
directly between the two islands. So narrow was this passage that he
could almost have stepped ashore on either side of this boat.

"Now we are completely hidden," said Elsa. "The reeds hide the hull of
the boat and the trees conceal the mast and rigging. A person out on the
Bay could search this clump for an hour with the most powerful telescope
and I doubt if he would ever discover there is a boat moored here. It's
the finest little hiding-place I know of. It has one drawback, though.
You can't get in and out when the tide is real low."

Alec gazed about him with delight. The snug little harbor made him
think of a pirate's refuge. "It certainly is a bully hiding-place," he
said, "though I suppose most of the old-timers hereabout know of it."

"I very much doubt it," said Elsa.

"Then how did you come to know about it?"

"Found it myself," explained Elsa. "Dad left me to hunt ducks along the
shore, while he put down some stakes in an oyster-bed near by. I wounded
a duck that got away from me. It swam into this little channel and I
followed it. That's how I came to discover this place. I don't believe
many folks know about it, for I told Dad about it and he had never heard
of it."

"Well, anyway, it makes no difference," said Alec. "I have no idea
anybody is going to bother me, and if I slip in here after dark and
don't show any lights, I don't think anybody would ever find me. What do
you call the place?"

"I never named it," said Elsa.

"You didn't? It ought to have a name, sure. What shall we call it? We'll
give it a name, and that will be a secret all our own."

"I know," cried Elsa. "We'll call this the _Osprey's_ Nest."

"Fine! That's a dandy name. And it's such a good name for a secret
hiding-place. If anybody heard us talking about it they would think we
meant one of those old trees that have real fish-hawks' nests in them.
When you hear the name osprey's nest come buzzing in your receiver,
you'll know I'm as safe and snug as can be. Why, just to tell you I'm at
the osprey's nest would mean a whole lot, wouldn't it? And, by the way,
you can spare a few moments now and then to talk with me with your
wireless, can't you?"

"Alec!" said Elsa reproachfully. "When I shall hardly see you all
summer! Of course, I'll talk to you. But I mustn't keep you from your
work. You mustn't let me do that, Alec, for I want you to go on with it
and make just the great success that I know you are going to."

"Well, when shall I call you? You won't always be at home, you know."

"I'll tell you what. I'll listen in at one o'clock and at seven, and
when Arlington sends out the time, whenever I'm at home; and that will
be most always."

"Thank you," said Alec. "It will be pretty lonely out here all by
myself." He glanced at the clock in the cabin. "Whew!" he whistled.
"Look at the time. We must be getting to work at once."

"All right. What shall we do first?"

"I ought to finish this work with the microscope. These larvæ ought to
have a few drops of formaldehyde on them if they aren't counted pretty
soon; and I haven't any. So I guess I'll go on with my counting."

"Then we might just as well stay here," said Elsa. "It's a good deal
cooler here in the shade of the trees than it would be out on the
water. It's too bad there's nothing I can do to help you. Are you sure
there's nothing I can do?"

Alec looked at his comrade steadily for a moment. "Elsa," he said, "did
you ever read that beautiful poem of Milton's in which there is a line
that says something like this: 'They also serve who only stand and
wait'? You know the reserves are like that. They don't seem to be doing
much, for a fact, but the fellows in the front line fight a heap sight
better just because they know their comrades are back there, ready to
aid them when necessary. So I wouldn't say anything more about not being
of use. You know it's been pretty tough going for me these last few
months since Dad died and I had nobody to fall back on. I can't tell you
what it means to me to have your friendship and that of your father and
mother."

"Thank you, Alec," said Elsa. "That's a very fine thing to say. I never
thought of the matter in just that way before. You know I really do want
to help you, and I don't care whether I help by really assisting in your
work or merely by being with you, now that you put it in that way. The
point is to get the work done. Oh! I think so much is going to come of
all this that I am as eager as can be to get the work finished. Now you
attend to your microscope and I'll amuse myself with your wireless."

For a long time there was silence on the _Osprey_. Elsa sat with the
receivers strapped to her ears, now shifting the coupler, now moving a
condenser, now tuning to this wave-length, now to that.

"That's strange," Alec heard her mutter to herself, after a long time.

"What's strange?" he asked.

"Why, somebody has been calling and calling Cape May. And he doesn't get
any answer. I can't understand it. I haven't any idea who is talking. I
never heard his call before. He's WNA."

With a bound Alec was beside her. "That's Roy Mercer on the _Lycoming_,"
he cried. "May I have the receivers a moment, please."

Alec slipped on the headpiece and sat down at his key. "WNA--WNA--WNA de
3ADH--3ADH--3ADH," he flashed.

Almost at once came the response. "3ADH--3ADH--3ADH de
WNA--WNA--WNA--K."

"Hello, Roy!" ticked off Alec. "This is Alec Cunningham. Just happened
to hear you calling Cape May. Can't imagine why they didn't answer. How
are you?"

"Fine. How are you? What are you doing?"

"All O. K. Counting oyster larvæ with a microscope just now. Tell you
all about it some day. What are you sailing so early for?"

"New schedule. Going to touch at some West Indian ports and Yucatan on
way to Galveston. Due back here a month from to-day. That's August
twenty-two. Be sure to watch for me. May have something interesting to
tell you. How are you getting on? Heard from any of the other fellows
of the Camp Brady Wireless Patrol?"

For some time the two old comrades talked as fast as they could flash
their messages to each other. Then Alec laid down his receivers and
turned to Elsa. "It certainly is good to hear from Roy," he said. "He's
one of the fellows from the Camp Brady Wireless Patrol at home. He's a
prince, too. No end of pluck and brains. Why, he saved the _Lycoming_
from a collision in a fog, just with his wireless. And he was washed
overboard when he was helping to take a line to the disabled steamer
_Empress_ during a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico, and was swept into
Corpus Christi by the tidal wave. He got the news of the disaster there
to the outside world by wireless that he made himself and so got help
for the city. Oh! He's a wonderful chap. How I wish you knew him. He's
true as steel. They don't make any others quite so fine as Roy."

"If he's a friend of yours, Alec, I know he's all right. You wouldn't
have any other kind of friends. But as for their not making any other
boys as fine as Roy, humph! I guess I know somebody that's true as steel
myself."

"I must hustle along with my job," said Alec, and he went back to his
microscope.

Finally, his bottles examined and cleaned and all his apparatus stowed
away, Alec picked up the setting-pole. "It's time we were heading for
Bivalve," he said.

He backed the _Osprey_ out from between the islets, turned her, and
pushed his way back to the open water. Then, having a favoring wind, he
hoisted his sail, and the _Osprey_ went skimming over the waves on the
homeward track.




CHAPTER XXI

THE GREAT SECRET


So eager was Alec to return to his investigations that he slipped back
to the oyster-beds that very night, so as to be on hand at the earliest
possible moment next day. His mind was afire, his whole being was keyed
up. He was like a hound on a hot scent. He felt that he had his quarry
almost within his reach. He wanted to press on at top speed until he
grasped the prize. Neither storm nor calm, neither tide nor sickness,
could long have delayed him; for Alec possessed that unusual quality of
mind which made him rise superior to obstacles, once his interest was
thoroughly aroused. Things that to some boys would have appeared as
effective obstacles became to Alec, when he was thus aroused, only
difficulties to be overcome. One by one he had surmounted all the
barriers that he had so far encountered. Each victory made him only the
keener to win another. Of all his struggles, the effort to learn the
truth about the oyster had interested him most deeply, because he knew
that exact knowledge along that line was the very corner-stone of his
success, or, more accurately, of the success he was striving to build.

So daylight found Alec astir and already on his way to Captain Hardy's
oyster-bed. For the facts that Alec and Elsa had discovered concerning
Hardy's bed and the existence of the depression in the bottom of the
Bay, had given Alec an idea that he could hardly wait to test out. He
meant to find the entire truth about the little channel. He doubted if
any one else had discovered the little trough or furrow in the bottom of
the Bay, and if they had, he doubted whether its significance had
occurred to the discoverers.

Now he proceeded to the upper end of Hardy's bed, and, dropping his
lead, found exactly where the edge of the furrow lay. He noted its
position with relation to the corner stakes of the grounds. Then he
proceeded slowly down-stream, sounding as he went, to try to locate the
inner edge of the ditch. For several hundred feet he felt his way along.
Then he took a heavy weight, tied to it a line of the proper length, and
to that he fastened a stick a few feet long, to the upper end of which
he tied a white cloth. He lowered the weight to the bottom, dropping it,
as nearly as he was able, on the very edge of the furrow or ditch in the
mud. Then he adjusted his line so that the stick floated
perpendicularly, holding the white cloth aloft, a foot or two above the
surface of the water. Then he dropped the _Osprey_ down-stream some
hundreds of feet, and once more locating the edge of the depression in
the bottom, made and anchored a second floating marker. Examination
showed him that the three points he had located--the one near Hardy's
stakes and the two he had marked with flags,--were practically in a
straight line. Once more he headed the _Osprey_ down-stream, proceeding
as far as he could go and still see his markers. Then he sounded, and
found that he was still over the very edge of the depression. Apparently
this depression ran in an almost perfectly straight line. Alec put down
another flag. He now had marked the depression for a good many hundred
yards.

Now he went back to his starting-point and began to study the current
and the appearance of the water. The depression extended in exactly the
same direction that the tide followed, so that the water would sweep
straight through it, back and forth, back and forth ceaselessly,
scouring it clean. Alec recalled what Roy had written him about the
jetties at Galveston, and how the tide, sweeping in and out between
them, had deepened the channel. To be sure, there were no jetties here
to confine the flow of the tide to the depression, yet Alec felt sure
that the current would keep the depression clean and perhaps even deepen
it. For all time, at least for all calculable time, so far as he could
see, the depression would remain in the bottom and create a vast slick
along its side. In this slick he believed the oyster fry would be most
numerous.

Slowly Alec proceeded along the edge of the slick, passing one after
another the markers he had set up, and lifting them as he came to them.
The edge of the slick, of course, followed the line of the depression
in the bottom. Alec knew it ought to do so, and the white flags proved
that it did. On and on went Alec, studying the current, watching every
wave and swirl in the tide. At the same time, he kept before him the map
of the oyster-beds, marking down on the map as accurately as possible
the edge of the slick. How far to the side this slick extended Alec did
not know. He could determine that later. What he did know--at least he
felt sure he knew it--was that every oyster-bed lying in this slick was
a prime oyster ground. He would know for sure when he had made larvæ
tests of water from the different beds.

For two or three miles Alec proceeded. The slick was still plainly
discernible, and whenever Alec took soundings he found that the
depression continued. At last he came to the point for which he was
heading--the last lot of ground that had been staked. Beyond that was a
vast area that any man might claim. So eager to see what he should find,
so fearful and yet so hopeful was Alec, that he almost held his breath
as he bent forward and peered out over the unstaked water. Would the
slick continue through the unleased areas or would it not?

"It does! It does!" cried Alec aloud, as he sailed past the very last
oyster stake. As far as he could see, the water before him was sharply
divided into two areas--one that rippled roughly as the tide swept
onward, the other as smooth as though it had been rubbed with grease.

Into this smooth stretch of water Alec turned the _Osprey_. Then, his
hands atremble with eagerness, he brought forth his testing apparatus
and began to strain water from the bottom through his filter net. Here,
there, over yonder, Alec pumped up water, until he had samples from a
large acreage. His settling bottles were numbered, and on his chart he
marked the location from which each sample came. At the same time he
took soundings and tested the water for density and temperature. All
these things he likewise set down on his chart. So eager was he to begin
his count, that he could scarcely wait to stow away his instruments when
he had done straining water. But when he started to use his microscope,
he found that the wind had freshened so much he could not work well. It
was blowing directly against the current, throwing up sizable rollers,
and the _Osprey_ was too unsteady for the trying work in hand. There was
nothing to do but get to smooth water, and that meant to leave the Bay,
for now whitecaps were breaking everywhere.

At first Alec hardly knew where to go. He thought of running into the
mouth of the river. But that idea did not please him because passing
boatmen might annoy him or at least interrupt him. And anyway, Alec
preferred to carry on his investigations without others knowing about
them. He had learned pretty well the fact that not everybody was to be
trusted. Alec also thought of going to the point of land where he and
Elsa had eaten their dinner. That did not seem altogether suitable,
either. Finally he decided to head for the _Osprey's_ Nest. If no one
was in sight when he got there, he would go in. If any one were by to
watch him, he would pull into some neighboring inlet. As fast as his
engine would take him, Alec drove through the waves. When he reached the
shore just off the _Osprey's_ Nest, not a boat of any sort was in sight.
He shut off his power, pushed his little craft up the secret channel,
and soon lay at anchor in his snug retreat. The shade was grateful and
the _Osprey_ was as steady as a rock. He could work in comfort and in
perfect security.

Hour after hour Alec stuck to his job. At times his eyes ached so from
the strain that he had to leave his microscope and bathe them in the
salt sea water that he dipped up with a bucket. At noon he paused long
enough to cook himself a warm meal and flash a greeting to Elsa. Then he
went on with his work. As long as he could hold himself to his task he
continued to count. Bottle after bottle he emptied, picking out one by
one with his little needle thousands upon thousands of oyster larvæ.
Again and again, as the day wore on, he laid down his implements,
meaning to quit. And as often he picked them up after an interval, to do
just a little bit more. There were limits to his endurance. His eyes
would function only so long. But his soul was indomitable. So he kept on
and on and on, until dusk found him with his task completed. When he
talked to Elsa that night he was able to tell her that he had found the
great secret. At least he believed he had. He had discovered an
unstaked area that he believed to be as good a place for oysters as any
ground in the Bay.

Long after he turned away from his wireless, Alec sat on the deck of the
_Osprey_. By every rule of the game he should have been asleep in his
bunk. Physically he was worn out by the strain of his intense
concentration. But mentally he was afire. The task that had tired his
body had stimulated his brain to unusual activity. His vision was almost
prophetic. He pictured the future as he wished it to be. And though his
mental image was not an exact representation of life as it proved to be,
it was a marvelous approximation. Nor was that strange. For Alec was
learning that the more sharply he defined his ambitions, and the more
exactly he pictured his path, the more likely he was to see his dreams
become realities. He needed a map for his life, just as truly as he
needed a chart for his oyster-beds.

Now, as he sat, silent, in the _Osprey_, his mind aglow with rosy
pictures, the difficulties that once had seemed so insurmountable shrank
and shrank until they appeared but mole-hills. Though he did not put it
in so many words, Alec was coming to realize that a big accomplishment
is only a great dream backed by prodigious labor. Labor is the thing it
is made of, but without the inspiration of the dream the labor is
impossible. So he let himself dream on and on in the darkness, resting
on some soft cushions, listening to the gentle sigh of the wind as it
stirred the leaves above his head, dimly conscious of the stirrings of
birds, the faint splashings of muskrats in the marsh above him, the
quavering call of a distant owl. Overhead the stars twinkled. Light
patches of cloud floated in the sky. The waters of the Bay washed the
shores gently but audibly. The world was in repose. And at last Alec
slept with it.




CHAPTER XXII

THE NEW CAPTAIN OF THE _BERTHA B_


Day after day Alec toiled at his self-appointed task. Under the broiling
sun and when cold rains were falling, with the wind whistling through
the _Osprey's_ rigging and in periods of calm, he was daily to be seen
on the oyster grounds in his little boat. For whole days at a time he
did nothing but take soundings and record the results. Other days he
spent studying the currents, watching the tides, searching the face of
the water diligently. At other times he gathered water samples here,
there, yonder, everywhere, and followed that task by the more trying
labor at the microscope. With every sample of water he analyzed, and
every survey he made of the currents, he became more and more certain
that he had found the thing for which he was searching. He knew exactly
where he would put his oyster-beds. He would lease as much land along
the edge of the depression in the bottom and immediately adjoining the
land already staked as he could handle. By taking a long and narrow
strip, he would be certain to have his grounds in the very heart of the
slick.

No sooner had Alec made up his mind than he laid the matter before
Captain Rumford. "I want to lease one hundred acres right here," he
said, pointing to a spot he had marked on his chart of the oyster-beds.

The shipper frowned. "What do you want of oyster-beds now?" he demanded.
"You have no way to work them, and the tax on them will eat up your
savings. You'll have to pay $75 a year rental, besides the cost of
surveying and staking your bed. The sum you'll pay out, just to hold
that ground while you're earning your equipment, would go a long way
toward paying for your boat. Besides, I don't like grounds so far out.
The water's too deep. Oysters ought to be planted in shallow water."

"But you have some beds in deep water yourself, Captain," urged Alec.

"None of them is much good."

"Perhaps they aren't out far enough."

"Nonsense. Shallow water's the only good place for an oyster-bed.
There's lots of beds out in deep water, but that's because all the
grounds near shore had already been staked out and their owners had to
take deep-water grounds or none at all. But it's no place for oysters."

"There's Hardy's bed," urged Alec. "That's as far out as any of them and
it's a good bed. With proper care it would be one of the best. I've been
examining the water there, and it's full of spat."

"Nonsense, all nonsense," said the shipper impatiently. "Elsa has been
pumping me full of rubbish about what you are doing. As though you
could tell anything about an oyster ground by looking at a few drops of
water through a microscope. This foolishness is the only thing I ever
saw in you that I don't like. If only you'd drop it and go to work on my
boats as I want you to, you'd get on fast. As for your leasing one
hundred acres of oyster-land, and away out there at that, why, it's not
to be thought of. It's ridiculous."

Alec looked very sober. From the quarter where he had expected help,
came sudden opposition. It almost made him hesitate. "Captain Rumford,"
he said, "I'm mighty sorry we don't see things alike. I know it seems
foolish for a lad of my years to be telling an old oyster captain like
yourself anything about oystering. But I have to live up to my lights
just as much as you have to live up to yours. I believe I'm right. When
I'm done with this work I'll know whether I'm right or wrong. If I'm
right, then I've found one of the best locations in the entire oyster
region to start a new bed. I know it will cost me a lot to carry that
bed. But I'm so sure I'm right that I'm willing to risk the money. I'm
willing to bet on myself, if you want to put it that way. That matter is
settled. The question is, Will you help me get the land I want, or must
I ask somebody else to help me?"

"Well, I admire your pluck, anyway, youngster. If your judgment was half
as good, you'd be a winner sure. Since you're so dead set on having
those grounds, I'll have to help you get them, of course. You're not of
age, are you?"

"No, sir. I was nineteen soon after I came to Bivalve. It won't be so
long now until I am twenty."

"You have no guardian?"

"No. But I've been told I need one." Alec grinned. "Elsa says so."

"Well, she's right for once. I'll have to lease these lands in my own
name and then transfer them to you later."

"That will be all right."

"Eh? You trust the old man, do you? Haven't you learned that you can't
trust everybody? You've had experiences enough here to teach you that
lesson pretty well. Suppose your bed _should_ turn out to be worth
something, and I decided not to hand it over to you? Had you thought of
that possibility, lad?"

"Captain Rumford," said Alec, "there isn't anything I've learned better
than the lesson that there are some people I can't trust. And while I've
been learning that, I've found that there are some I can."

"Thank you, lad," said the shipper, evidently deeply touched. "Thank
you. You can put your mind at rest about your oyster grounds. I'll get
them and I'll give you a paper showing that I only hold them in trust
for you. And I'll do more. If you don't have the money to pay the
expenses, I'll lend it to you and you can pay me whenever you can. But
that's because I have confidence in you and not in your oyster grounds."

"Thank you, Captain," said Alec. "It won't be necessary. I have the
money."

The captain turned away and went to his desk to make out his application
for the desired grounds. But all the way to his chair he kept muttering,
"The little fool. He's just throwing his money away."

Having decided the question of his own grounds, Alec turned his
attention to the shipper's beds. He spent several days sounding them and
studying the water above them. Mostly the captain's beds were well in
shore. These he had inherited from his father, who had begun oystering
before the shipper was born. These beds were usually very productive. In
deep water the captain also owned considerable holdings that he had
acquired with profits derived from the beds he had inherited. But none
of these had ever proved to be very productive. There was never any very
great set of spat in them, and unless they were planted with
seed-oysters it hardly paid to dredge them. But, of course, the captain
always put seed in all his beds and so he had steadily made some money
from them. When Alec analyzed the larval content of the shipper's
various beds under the microscope, he found that the shallow water was
very rich in spat. The contour of the shore made a vast eddy where these
beds lay. The beds farther out were located in the strong current, with
not the slightest suspicion of a slick or an eddy near them.

When Alec had concluded his examination of the shipper's beds, he went
directly to their owner, though he made a wry face as he thought of what
was probably before him.

"Captain Rumford," he said, "I've been working out in your beds for
several days. Your shallow water beds are very fine grounds, but----"

"Of course they are. Of course they are. Shallow water's the only proper
place for an oyster-bed."

"Your other beds, I was going to say," went on Alec, "are not nearly so
good."

"Of course not. Of course not. What are you telling me all this for?
Think I don't know it?"

"I don't believe you'll ever get a big set of spat in those outside
beds," went on Alec. "I don't believe you'd get enough of a set to pay
for shelling the grounds."

"Well, well," said the shipper rather testily, "is this supposed to be
news to me?"

"I was going to say," went on Alec, choking down a feeling of
resentment, "that if you would sell those beds and buy Hardy's bed,
you'd make a profitable deal. I'd be willing to wager that you'd get as
many oysters from spat in Hardy's bed as you would from the seed you
planted. You'd get a tremendous catch every year."

"Fiddlesticks! I never heard of such a thing in a deep-water bed."

"But, Captain Rumford," protested Alec, "don't the other oystermen who
own beds near Hardy's get good hauls?"

"I can't deny some of them do," admitted the shipper, "but I can't
understand it. That's no place for an oyster-bed, way out in that deep
water. They can't expect to have luck always, though."

Alec gave up. It was no use to try to overcome the shipper's prejudices.

Day after day he continued his labors. He was so constantly on the water
that those who saw him became curious to know what he could be doing.
Now this oysterman, and now that, as Alec ran across him, tried to learn
what Alec was doing out on the Bay so much. Occasionally boats sailed
near him simply to watch him. At such times Alec pretended to be
fishing. Rather he did fish. So he caught many a toothsome meal. He also
made a large net of mosquito-netting, which he used for catching crabs.
Of course, all this curiosity was aroused, not about Alec himself, for
nobody cared much about a homeless lad, but because Alec was supposed to
be doing something for Captain Rumford. If the leading oyster shipper at
Bivalve found it worth while to keep a man out among the oyster-beds
week in and week out, the curious figured it might be worth their own
while to do a little examining themselves. The difficulty was that
nobody knew exactly what Alec was doing. So it came about that Alec did
exactly what he did not want to do. He called attention to his own
efforts. But his work was well along toward completion before it was
generally known that he was doing anything out of the ordinary. What
annoyed Alec most of all about the matter was his fear lest some one
track him to the _Osprey's_ Nest and so discover the secret
hiding-place. Frequently, when other boats were near at hand toward
dusk, Alec came up to the oyster wharf and tied up in the slip at
Captain Rumford's pier. He knew that even the most reckless would
hesitate to touch him there, under the glare of the pier-shed light and
with the watchman within call. So, whether any of Hardy's friends ever
wished to harm him or not, Alec came through the summer unscathed, and
his hiding-place remained undiscovered.

One day, when August was more than half gone, Elsa called him on the
wireless and announced that repairs on Captain Flint's boat, the
_Rebecca_, were completed and the paint dry, and that the Rumfords were
going to take their annual family cruise aboard of her. Alec was invited
to go along and no answer but a favorable one would be accepted. Of
course, there was nothing for Alec to do but put his work aside and say
he would go. In his heart he was more than glad to put his work aside.
Week after week he had stuck to it, holding himself with iron
determination to his task. But now the zest was gone out of it. The long
grind was wearing on his nerves. Joyously he looked forward to this
holiday.

The next morning he did not put out in his boat, but went to the
shipper's office to thank him for the invitation and to see if he could
be of assistance in preparing for the cruise. But the instant Alec saw
the shipper, he knew that something had gone wrong.

"Bagley's left us," blurted out the shipper, the moment he saw Alec. And
there were tears in his voice, if not in his eyes.

"What do you mean, sir?" asked Alec.

"He's going to the Chesapeake next fall. Got a chance to go into
partnership with a shipper there. Don't blame him a bit, but Gad! I hate
to lose him. He's been with me seventeen years. Never worked anywhere
but on the _Bertha B_. Started oystering on her as a deck-hand. Don't
know what I'll do for another captain."

"You can get plenty of them," said Alec.

"Certainly," said the shipper, "but not plenty of Bagleys. Why, I could
trust that man with my life."

"Take Hawley," said Alec.

"What!" cried the shipper. "Make a captain out of a fellow that was
fired from the _Bertha B_ less than a year ago for being drunk? You're
crazy."

"You're foolish if you don't take him," urged Alec. "Why, Captain
Rumford, that man's the very soul of honesty. I know him like a book.
I'd trust him just as far as I would you, Captain, and that's saying all
I know how to say. It's old John Barleycorn you have in mind. But Jim
cut his acquaintance long ago. And you know as well as I do that there
isn't a better sailor in the fleet."

The shipper was silent a long time. "Hanged if I don't try it," he said
at last. "I always liked Jim when he was sober. I'll take him along on
this party and see how he can handle a boat. Now don't you give him any
hint of what's coming."

"I'm mighty glad you're going to take him," cried Alec. "I haven't a
better friend in the world than Jim. By the way, when are we going to
start on our little party?"

"Just as soon as we can get ready. It will likely take most of the day
to get the boat provisioned and get the stuff aboard that they want to
bring from home. We ought to be off in the morning."

"Then I'll call up Elsa and see what I can do to help." And Alec bustled
away, joyful in the thought of the little outing ahead of him. Could he
have known exactly what was to happen to the little pleasure party, his
face would have worn a very different aspect indeed.




CHAPTER XXIII

ADRIFT IN THE STORM


Alec could not see into the future, this time at least, and he went
about the work of preparing the _Rebecca_ with a merry heart. The ship
looked very fine, indeed, as she lay at the captain's wharf, all spick
and span, and proudly displaying her new coat of paint. She was
considerably larger than the _Bertha B_. Her masts were stepped at a
rakish angle. Her rigging was neat. Her lines were good. For a boat of
her size she carried an unusual amount of sail. Her hold had been
emptied of all movable tackle and her decks cleared before she had been
hauled out for repairs. Nothing had yet been replaced. And in order that
the party might have all the room possible, nothing was to be replaced
until after the cruise. Even the anchor and the chains had been removed.
Inside, the cabin was perfectly bare. But the woodwork had all been
freshly painted or varnished, and the _Rebecca_ needed only a few
furnishings to make her very attractive, indeed.

While the shipper and Alec were making a hasty examination of the boat,
a truck load of furnishings arrived from the shipper's home, and the two
at once started to carry the things aboard. There were cushions, and
bedding, and chairs, and rugs, and blankets, and wraps, and a host of
other things to make the boat comfortable. And there were great ticks to
be filled with straw for the men to sleep on in the hold, while Elsa and
her mother occupied the cabin.

When all the things were aboard and the truck had gone away, Captain
Rumford turned his attention to the ship's gear. He was too careful a
sailor not to make sure that everything was right before he set sail. He
found everything in good condition. Only the anchor and the anchor chain
were missing. The chains had been laid away when the _Rebecca_ was
hauled out. It was neither easy nor convenient to get them now. The
captain studied the matter for a moment. "About all we'll need an anchor
for," he muttered to himself, "is to keep us from drifting at night.
I'll just take along that little light anchor in the storeroom. We can
bend an old cable on it and it will answer our purpose. If a storm
should come up, we'll run into a harbor. Now I'll go see about that
little anchor."

The captain grabbed an oyster truck and hurried to his storeroom to get
it. A moment later he returned, trundling the anchor and an old hawser
before him. Alec helped lift them aboard. Then, while the captain was
bending on the hawser, Alec busied himself in the cabin, putting the
things there in some sort of order.

Presently came a load of provisions. Alec carried to the storeroom bag
after bag. It seemed to him he had brought enough stuff aboard to feed
a ship's crew for a year. The provisions he stowed away in the cupboards
in the cabin. When Alec was done, the captain joined him and inspected
the cupboards.

"Looks to me as though we're ready to cast off the minute we get our
crew aboard," he said. "She seems fit to contend with almost
anything--especially hunger."

"I can't think of another thing we could wish for," said Alec.

"Unless it was some music," said the captain wistfully. "It never seemed
right to me to go on a party like this without some music. I'd have
given a lot if Elsa had learned to play the piano, but she just
wouldn't. Hasn't a particle of love for music. Funny, isn't it, when I
like it so much. She likes to dance, too. You'd think she'd have some
liking for music, wouldn't you?"

Alec made no response. But when the shipper drove away in his car, Alec
ran to the _Osprey_ and quickly uncoupled his wireless outfit. "It won't
be much," he said, "but it's all I can do for the captain. He can have
music at night now, anyway. I'll try to surprise him."

He fastened his instruments in the cabin of the _Rebecca_, very much as
he had had them in the _Bertha B_. With two sticks he made an aerial
which he placed flat on the roof of the cabin. The sticks were fastened
together like a Maltese cross, and around their ends Alec wrapped strand
after strand of wire, bringing the end into the cabin through the tiny
window just above his instruments. He made a ground by twisting his wire
to a little length of chain, which he fastened over the side so that its
end hung in the water. Then he tested his instruments and found they
were in order. As far as Alec could see, everything was now in readiness
for the cruise.

Doubly delightful to Alec was the little trip that began next morning
because of the weeks of hard labor that had preceded it. Just as his
work had palled on him because he had been unable to combine any
amusement with it, so amusements pall when they are not interspersed
with toil. Now Alec's appetite for pleasure was more than whetted. He
was ravenous for enjoyment. And being so, he enjoyed everything. The sun
that shone so bright seemed merry rather than hot to Alec. The winds
that circled about the mastheads seemed to Alec as playful as squirrels
frisking in a tree top. The waves seemed to laugh in glee as the wind
drove them before it, showing their white teeth in gleaming smiles as
they flashed in the sun. White teeth they were, too, that could rend as
well as gleam in the sun. Well enough Alec knew that fact. Before many
days he was to know it better still. But now he had no thought of care.
He had put work aside. He was like a small boy on a lark. Usually rather
staid and sober, now he kept the party laughing at his antics. And they
were ready enough to laugh with him. For this was a real pleasure
party. For the time being, care had been thrown to the winds.

But if the mere joy of being alive and free and with friends could make
Alec happy, the fact that he was seeing new things and learning new
things gave him added enjoyment. For never, for a single instant, did
Alec forget to pick up bits of knowledge that came his way. For well
nigh a year, now, he had lived on the waves. He had sailed the Delaware
in sunshine and in storm, when the weather was blazing hot and when ice
formed on the deck. And yet his knowledge of this great body of water
was limited wholly to what he had seen in the narrow compass of the
oyster-beds, or to what he had read. Now he was to see with his own eyes
the wonders of the deep. For as yet Alec had hardly been out of sight of
land, and he had never seen the ocean.

Alec would not have been himself had he not remembered to bring along a
map. And it was the largest map of the Bay he could lay his hands on. He
saw at a glance that in contour the Bay was roughly pear-shaped. On
either shore little excrescences, like the warts and blemishes that come
on real pears, stuck out here and there, to mar the perfect pear-shaped
outline of the Bay. The largest of these was Egg Island Point, off which
lay the light he knew so well. Miles farther up the coast the _Rebecca_
passed Ben Davis Point. And still farther along stretched a wide cove,
with the Cohansey River pouring into it, and a little, squat lighthouse
standing on a point, to guide the mariner into the stream.

Other points of interest the party visited, too--little summer resorts,
like Fortescue, and lighthouses, where they were welcomed in a way that
left no doubt of their hosts' sincerity; for callers are few at a
lighthouse, and usually they are welcomed accordingly.

In the evenings, the party ran slowly before the gentle night wind, or,
anchoring far offshore to avoid mosquitoes, gave themselves up to
friendly talk and laughter--all save the captain. For him there was but
one nocturnal diversion; that was listening to the music with Alec's
wireless.

Sometimes the men went ashore and searched in the salt holes in the
marsh for crabs. Or all hands fished for them from the deck of the
_Rebecca_ lowering great chunks of white meat on strings, well weighted,
and gently raising their catch to the surface when they felt a nibbling
at the bait. Then came the fun of scooping the crabs with long-handled
dip-nets. Astonishingly often they failed to net them, too, for the wary
creatures, despite their seeming awkwardness, vanished the instant they
came to the surface. Great, gray-green things they were, with
savage-looking pincers that could crush a finger severely if they got
hold of one. And although he had previously caught crabs, Alec could
hardly accustom himself to their color, so long had he known only the
cooked crab of inland restaurants, which had turned red in boiling.

Sometimes they fished for weakfish, using pieces of crab meat for bait.
Beautiful, big fish they caught, too. And sometimes they got sea-bass
and flounders. And as often as not, they pulled in the troublesome
toadfish, which Alec came to detest as much as the sailors on the
oyster-boats did.

Day followed day in unbroken pleasure. Now they were here, now there.
When Alec told the shipper that he had never seen the ocean, the shipper
said he would head for the sea at once. Alec could have a good look at
it, and then the party must head for home. Playtime was about ended.

But it was one thing to say they would go to the sea and another thing
to get there. The flood-tide held them back. The wind was hardly more
than stirring. So fierce was the sun, so intense the heat on deck, that
both Elsa and her mother retreated to the cabin. The captain sought what
coolness he could find in the uncertain shade of a sail. Big Jim Hawley
stood at the wheel, silent, imperturbable. Alec flung himself on the
deck near him. From time to time Hawley studied the sky. Great cumulus
clouds were forming near the horizon.

"We'll have a storm to-night," he said to Alec.

"The sooner the better," said Alec. "Anything to break this heat wave."

They rolled slowly on. The water gently heaved and the _Rebecca_ swayed
with it. There was barely wind enough to keep the sails from flapping.

"We'll never reach the Capes in daylight at this rate," said Hawley.
"The days are getting much shorter."

"That's so," said Alec. "Yesterday was the twenty-first of August. It's
just two months since the longest day and the days are shortening fast."

Slowly the _Rebecca_ forged ahead. Even the cool breath of the water
could scarcely make the sun's heat endurable. Under the fierce rays the
smell of paint became almost overpowering. The tar on ropes and rigging
almost melted and ran. The fleecy clouds along the horizon bulked larger
and larger. Slowly they rose toward the zenith. Late afternoon came. The
ship was still far from the Capes. Captain Rumford studied the clouds
carefully.

"We'll pull in behind the breakwater when we get there, Jim," he said
quietly. "I think that storm will be a rip snorter. We might as well be
on the safe side."

They went on. Gradually the sun's rays grew feebler. Gusts of vapor were
hurtling across the sky, curtaining the fiery beams. The sky turned a
peculiar greenish-copper color. The thunder-heads mounted ever higher.
Then the sun was shut from sight. It grew dusk. Darkness came, as sudden
as the dropping of a curtain. Afar off, flashes of lightning rent the
clouds. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. The wind died away.
It grew calm as midnight. The _Rebecca_ rolled idly, her sheets
flapping. The men got into their oilskins.

"Better shorten sail," said the shipper.

They ran to the halyards. Down came the great canvases. Nimbly they
fastened the reef-points and made all as snug as possible.

"Now let her blow," said the shipper. "The more wind, the faster we go.
We'll reach the breakwater and heave to. I kind of wish we had a heavier
anchor, though."

None too soon had the _Rebecca_ shortened sail. Afar off an ominous
rushing sound was heard. The wind began to come in short puffs. Flash
after flash of lightning illumined the angry clouds. The roaring sound
grew louder. It came on with the speed of an express-train. Over the
waves swept a sheet of falling rain like a very wall of water. Alec
closed the companionway and jammed on the hatch covers. In another
moment the storm was upon them.

Over the waves the falling rain came hissing like steam. It fell in a
torrent. In a second the deck of the _Rebecca_ was running with water.
The sails tightened and bellied as the wind came smack! against them.
The _Rebecca_ trembled all over, then bent to the blast and began to run
through the water like a wild thing. Big Hawley stood at his wheel, as
steady as a new mast. He handled the ship as though she were a toy.

"Some thunder-storm," he smiled at Alec. "It'll blow itself out in a
little while. Nothing to worry about. It'll get us to the breakwater in
jig time."

It did, too. Long before Alec had any idea where they were, Jim brought
the _Rebecca_ up into the wind, and with her sails close-hauled, drove
her shoreward. The rain still fell heavily, but Alec could dimly make
out the curving shore-line and across it, like the string to a bow,
stretched a black streak that Alec knew must be the breakwater. The
waves were dashing on it madly. But the wind now blew almost parallel
with the long stone pile. The breakwater gave them no protection. Rather
it was a menace. If the ship should drag her anchor and drift on it, her
hull would be battered to pieces in no time. Surely this was no place to
heave to in such a storm.

"We'll just beat up along the coast, Jim," said the shipper. "It's a
windward shore. The storm will blow itself out pretty soon."

The big sailor threw his weight against the wheel. The ship heeled over
in the wind. Something cracked like a rifle-shot. The wheel flew around,
almost dropping Hawley to the deck. The rudder had broken.

"Overboard with the anchor!" called the shipper.

Hawley and Alec ran forward to execute the order. There was a splash and
the anchor rope paid out fast. Hawley gave the ship sufficient line and
went aft again to examine the steering-gear.

"Can't do anything with it," said the shipper. "The rudder itself is
broken. We'll have to ride the storm out here, then get help."

He went forward and examined the anchor line. Then he looked long and
steadily at the breakwater, which was all too close to please him.

"She's holding all right," he said. "We might as well eat while we wait
for the storm to end."

They entered the cabin and stripped off their oilskins. "Any danger?"
asked Mrs. Rumford, with anxious eyes.

"We're perfectly safe as long as our anchor doesn't drag. It's a little
light, that's all. But it's holding well. I don't think there is any
probability of harm."

Elsa and her mother got supper. From time to time the captain peered out
of the cabin window. All seemed well. They sat down to eat. It was not a
merry meal, as some of their meals had been, but the storm had not
dulled their appetites and they ate with enjoyment. Elsa and Alec even
joked a little. Hawley was silent from habit. Mrs. Rumford was a little
apprehensive. The captain was too busy with his own thoughts to talk.

Suddenly the big sailor jumped to his feet. "Feels as though we are
movin', Cap'n," he said. He pulled on his oilskins and stepped out in
the rain. In a moment he came tearing back. "We're adrift," he bellowed
down the companionway. "The anchor line has parted."

Neither the shipper nor Alec waited to don oilskins, but rushed out on
deck at once. There could be no doubt about the situation. The _Rebecca_
had swung around broadside to the wind and was wallowing in the waves.
The anchor line dangled loosely at her bow. The situation was critical.
The breakwater was not far away, though fortunately the wind did not now
blow toward it. Plainly they were drifting abreast of it, gathering
speed with every minute. And both wind and tide were driving them toward
the open sea.

"If only we had put those dredges aboard," said the shipper, "we might
hold ourselves yet. There isn't a thing on board we can put down to hold
with. If only we don't go on that stone pile, we'll be all right. This
storm can't last long, and somebody will pick us up, sure."

Driven by the wind, the tide was running like a mill-race, and the
_Rebecca_ was swept along at an unbelievable pace.

The shipper and Alec stepped into the cabin and pulled on their
oilskins, then returned to the deck.

"We don't have even a boat-hook or a setting-pole," sighed the shipper.
"I suppose they wouldn't be much use anyway, but a fellow could at least
try to fend the ship off those rocks."

Fearful, he looked toward the breakwater. Little by little the _Rebecca_
was drawing closer to it. At the same time she was rapidly driving past
the great stone pile. Would she clear it or not? There was nothing to do
but stand and wait. And the three sailors almost held their breath as
they steadied themselves by the rigging and watched. Nearer the boat
came to the rocks and nearer, and the end of the breakwater was still
rods away.

"She's going to strike," said the shipper. "She'll crash in another
minute. We'll have to lower the life-boat."

They ran aft toward the davits, then paused a single second to watch. A
great wave was lifting the _Rebecca_. Up she rose high on the crest, and
swept straight toward the breakwater.

"Get the women on deck quick," roared the shipper. "She's going to
crash."

Alec sprang for the companionway. The ship gave a lurch, but there was
no noise, no jar. An enormous wave, rushing against the breakwater, had
rebounded and swept the ship clear. The tide hurled her forward. A
moment later, by the narrowest of margins, the vessel skimmed across the
end of the breakwater, and shot into the open water beyond. For the
moment she was safe.

Straight toward the open sea she went, fast as wind and tide could drive
her. The storm still continued. The rain had slackened, though it still
fell. The wind yet blew with violence. With every moment and with every
foot they drew offshore the waves ran higher. Now driving straight
ahead, now swinging in the wind, now wallowing in the waves, and at
times smashing stern first into the rolling sea, the _Rebecca_ drove on
before the storm.

"Make a flare," said the shipper grimly. "We've got to get help."

The big sailor set about executing his order, but Alec darted into the
cabin. Swiftly he threw over his switch. Then, steadying his hand, he
flashed the call, "SOS--SOS--SOS." Then he paused and listened.

Almost immediately came a reply. "I have your signal of distress. Who
and where are you?"

"Schooner _Rebecca_," flashed back Alec. "Drifting out to sea between
the Delaware Capes, just off Henlopen. Rudder broken, anchor lost. Who
and where are you?"

"Steamer _Lycoming_. About thirty miles south of the Delaware Capes.
Should reach you in less than two hours. Keep a flare burning."

Alec leaped from his instrument as though he were shot. "It's Roy," he
cried. "It's Roy. The _Lycoming_ is only thirty miles away. She'll reach
us in less than two hours."

Again he turned to his instrument. Now he flashed out the _Lycoming's_
call. "WNA--WNA--WNA de 3ADH--3ADH--3ADH," he flashed.

At once came the response. "3ADH--3ADH--3ADH de WNA--WNA--WNA. Have been
trying to get you, Alec. Where are you?"

"On the _Rebecca_," flashed back Alec. "Just sent the SOS you answered."

"Thank God you've got a wireless!" came back the answer from Roy. "Don't
worry. We'll find you sure. We've already shifted our course. We're
heading straight for the Capes."

"Stand by while I tell the Captain, Roy," signalled Alec. Then he threw
over his switch and darted out on deck.

"We're saved, Captain," he shouted through the storm. "The _Lycoming_
is only thirty miles away and is heading straight for us. She will reach
us in less than two hours."

Anxiously the three watchers peered into the dark. Aloft swung their
lights. In a dish-pan on the deck a flare was burning. From time to time
Hawley fed oil-soaked pieces of wood to the flames. The rain had ceased
to fall. The wind still blew fitfully, but with lessened violence. The
night was as dark as a tunnel. Up and down, up and down, the oyster-boat
now rose and fell on the great swells of the Atlantic. At last Alec was
within sight of the ocean. But it was little he saw of it or cared to
see of it.

What he was watching for was a light. Minute after minute the silent
watchers strained their eyes into the darkness. Time passed. A half hour
went by. An hour elapsed. Then far off in the dark something glowed
faintly. Minute by minute the light grew brighter. It came closer.

Alec darted into the cabin. He flashed the _Lycoming's_ call and got an
answer. "We can see the lights of a big steamer," he signalled. "Can you
see us yet? We are burning a flare on deck and our lights are burning
aloft."

"We see you plainly. Will reach you in a few minutes."

Alec shut off his power. "Come on deck," he said to Elsa.

She followed him up the companionway. Alec tore off his coat and
wrapped it around her. Then he took her hand and led her forward.

"Look," he said. "You may never see another sight like this."

"I never want to," said Elsa.

"That is the _Lycoming_," said Alec. "Didn't I tell you that Roy was a
prince? We shall owe our lives to him. He's a wonderful wireless man."

"Will you ever learn any sense?" said Elsa. "How would Roy or his
captain have known that we were here if we hadn't had a good wireless
man on board the _Rebecca?_"

Now the _Lycoming_ was close at hand. Suddenly her search-light blazed
forth and rested fairly on the little schooner. Slowly the big steamer
drew near. Then she stopped. Presently a boat shot into the circle of
light. Lusty sailors were pulling at the oars. A line trailed behind.
The boat passed slowly to leeward of the helpless oyster-boat, then drew
close. A sailor rose to his feet and cast a little line. Swiftly it came
hissing through the air. Hawley grasped it before it touched the deck.
Hand over hand he pulled the line aboard. The light line was followed by
a huge hawser. Eagerly the line was hauled aboard. Big Hawley made it
fast. The ship's boat disappeared into the darkness. The sound of
tackle-blocks soon followed. Slowly the _Lycoming_ moved ahead. The
hawser tightened. The _Rebecca_ swung gently round, then slowly moved
ahead. In another moment she was moving steadily through the water.




CHAPTER XXIV

MISFORTUNES NEVER COME SINGLY


"Well, I never thought I'd come to this in an oyster-boat," said the
shipper. "We might have been in real trouble if that steamer hadn't
happened along."

Alec thought they were in real trouble as it was. "I wonder where the
_Lycoming_ will take us," he said.

"By George! We must attend to that at once. We don't want to be towed
clear off to New York. Call up the captain, Alec, and see if he won't
tow us into the Cape May harbor."

Alec hurried to the cabin and called Roy. Then he explained the
situation. After a time he got an answer. The _Lycoming_ would tow the
_Rebecca_ to the Cape May harbor, but a tug would be needed to take the
schooner into the harbor itself. Roy said he would try to arrange for
the tug. Alec listened in while Roy was talking with Cape May. Finally
Roy called Alec again and said that a tug would meet them. In little
more than an hour's time the _Lycoming_ was nearing Cape May. The tug
came alongside and made fast to the _Rebecca_. Then the tow-line was
cast off, good-byes were called, Captain Rumford sent his thanks and
good wishes to Captain Lansford of the _Lycoming_, and finally Alec
wired a grateful message to Roy from the party on the _Rebecca_. The
big steamer moved off into the darkness, the tug began to puff busily,
and before another hour passed, the _Rebecca_ lay safe and still within
the harbor. Next day temporary repairs were made to the _Rebecca's_
rudder, and before night the oyster-boat lay snug at her own pier at
Bivalve.

The pleasure trip had been a great success--all but the very end of it;
and very little harm had come of that. Excepting for the rudder, which
was quickly replaced, not a thing was damaged on the little boat. The
greatest injury came to the captain's pocketbook. Tug hire and the cost
of repairs made the outing expensive. But so long as they had come home
in safety, the shipper did not complain.

By the time the _Rebecca_ was in commission again the oyster season was
at hand. Orders began to appear for oysters. As was usual at the
beginning of the season, there were too few oyster orders to pay the
expenses of operating. Some shippers did not start their boats promptly;
but Captain Rumford had built up his big business as much by providing
service as by selling good oysters. It was his idea that as an oyster
merchant it was up to him to provide oysters whenever they were in
season. So the _Bertha B_ started promptly.

Now it seemed as though misfortune had marked the shipper for her very
own; as though, balked of her prey on that stormy day in August, she
meant to pursue the shipper until she got him. An unbroken succession
of little accidents occurred on the _Bertha B_. Now a dredge was lost
and valuable time consumed in grappling for it. Now a propeller blade
was snapped off by something in the water--perhaps the submerged remains
of an oyster stake. Then a piston-rod in the engine broke. One mishap
followed another. And it required both time and money to repair each.
The shipper's repair bill alone made him look serious.

But bad luck did not end there. From the very start it was evident that
it was to be a poor year for oysters. The shipper's boat worked long
hours and caught relatively few oysters. As more orders came in, other
boats were put in commission. The result was the same. Day after day the
boats came in with only half loads. Nor was this situation peculiar to
Captain Rumford. Few, indeed, were the shippers who had many oysters
that year. In his shallow water beds, or such of them as contained
oysters old enough to dredge, the captain got a fair catch. But all the
profit he made from these beds, and more too, was eaten up by the
expense of working his deep water beds. So far as he could, the shipper
took his oysters from his inner beds. But these had been dredged so
close in the humming oyster seasons just past, and did not begin to
contain as many oysters as the shipper needed.

What was worse, when he had taken the present season's crop from these
inner beds, there would be no more to dredge for three years. For these
were the beds he had seeded in the spring--these and the new bed far
out that Captain Flint had seeded so heavily and that Hardy had tried to
raid. Week after week the oyster-boats continued their work, and with
every week the captain found himself a poorer man. But there was nothing
to do but go on--to borrow money, if necessary, and then borrow more and
more. If he expected to retain his customers for future years when
oysters were plentiful and profitable again, he must carry his load of
loss now. And of course the captain went on.

He was not a superstitious man, was Captain Rumford, but like all
sailors he came near to being one. It seemed to him that the loss of
Captain Bagley was directly connected with his misfortunes; as though
that loss were the first link in a chain of misfortune. Close on
Bagley's loss had come the accident to the _Rebecca_. Then had followed
a big string of accidents to Bagley's old ship. Of course, big Jim
Hawley, the new commander, was in no way responsible for these, and yet
it almost seemed as though there was a direct connection between his
coming aboard and these accidents. What Captain Rumford forgot was the
fact that the _Bertha B_, like the one-hoss shay, had reached a point
where she was almost ready to go to pieces. She was the oldest boat in
the captain's fleet. She had seen continuous service for dozens of
years. Her engine was the very oldest in use among the oyster-boats.
Nothing can wear forever, and the _Bertha B_ was reaching the point
where she would have to be laid on the shelf. It was big Jim Hawley's
misfortune that he assumed command of her at that particular moment.

Had Captain Rumford only thought of it, he could have balanced a whole
string of fortunate events against this string of unfortunate ones; and
these had begun with the coming of Alec. The largest bead in this string
was the fact of their rescue on the _Rebecca_. There were other beads
that at present Captain Rumford failed to note at all, or even to
understand that they were pieces of good fortune, as, for example,
Alec's survey of the oyster waters. In good time, however, he was to see
that matter in its true light.

As for Alec, he had never toiled so hard in his life. A year of
unremitting labor had taught him how to work. Not only was he able to
hold himself rigidly to his tasks, but he could accomplish more in a
given time than he had ever done before. Nor was that strange. He was
merely acquiring the skill that comes of practice. For now Alec felt
like an old hand in the oyster business. He had passed a full year as an
oysterman. He had seen every phase of the oyster business. He had
learned as many actual facts about oystering as almost anybody at
Bivalve knew; and he had acquired many that most of his fellow oystermen
would never understand. What he still lacked was the wisdom that comes
from long experience. Only time could give him that. Yet he was a
generation ahead of his fellow oystermen. He was the first of the oyster
pioneers of the new school.

Hard, indeed, must have been the luck that followed the _Bertha B_,
when with two men like Alec and Captain Hawley aboard her she was still
a failure. For Captain Hawley was a new Hawley, indeed. He still had all
his old strength and courage, all his innate good-nature, all his deep
knowledge of oystering as it had been practiced. And he had more. He had
been recreated. His ambition had been again aroused. He had been fired
afresh with the determination to climb up in the oyster business. His
unexpected elevation to the captaincy of a ship had stimulated and
aroused him to the utmost. His association with Alec had brought out the
best that was in him. And these two comrades, Alec and Captain Jim,
worked to make things go for the shipper, as few men ever worked for
another. They drove the ship, they drove the crew--by example rather
than compulsion--they made everything work as close to one hundred per
cent. efficiency as is humanly possible--and yet they failed. No matter
what the obstacles, they could have dredged the oysters, had there been
oysters to dredge; but they could not make oysters.

Again and again Alec went over with Jim the life-history of the oyster,
for now Captain Hawley was as eager to learn the real truth about
oysters as once he had been indifferent to that truth. In his study of
the oyster-beds in future years, Alec knew he would no longer have to
work alone. Now they tried to account for the poor yield of oysters. For
everywhere the yield was poor. Nobody had a good crop. And more than
one shipper saw bankruptcy looming in the offing. Every aspect of
oystering Alec and Captain Jim considered as they sat by the cabin fire
in the _Bertha B_ at night. The tide, the bottom, the storms, the
quantities of seed used. And here Captain Jim's memory was of wonderful
help. Apparently he knew all about the weather for years past.
Eventually they hit upon the truth. The year in which the present
season's catch was planted had been the coldest in a decade. Storm had
followed storm. And finally, seed had been scarce.

"I think we have solved it," said Alec at last. "It was too cold for
spawning, so there were few larvæ in the water. The storms must have
shifted the sand and mud in the bottom and smothered many oysters. On
top of all that there were few seed to plant. No wonder there are no
oysters this year."

"Alec," said the big sailor, "if what you say is true, and I now believe
it is, there won't be many oysters next season, either, or the year
after. For we had three cold, stormy springs running."

Alec considered the matter a while. "It will go tough with the shipper,"
he said, "for this year will clean up his inshore beds pretty well. He
can't get anything out of them for three seasons. And I don't believe
there'll be many oysters in his other beds. We must think what we can do
to help Captain Rumford."

In every way that he could, Alec was assisting the captain. Every day
when the _Bertha B_ came in from the oyster grounds, Alec dropped off at
the pier and hustled to the office to help the shipper with the office
work. And now he was permitted to do some of the bookkeeping. For, with
things going so badly on his boats, the shipper had often to be away
from his office. There were banks to be visited, merchants to be
consulted, ship-chandlers to be seen. His line of credit was worrying
the shipper quite as much as his line of boats. For he understood by
this time that he would have to operate at a loss for the entire season.

Sometimes there came a dull day when Alec could attend to his shell
business. Now that he had lost Hawley as a partner, he had had to employ
some one else to gather his shells. He had found a young lad, who was
strong and willing to work, and who had given excellent service. Work,
rather than workers, was at a premium this season, for already many
boats had stopped running, and Alec had to pay no more for his new
assistant than he had formerly paid to Hawley. And as he continued to
live on the _Bertha B_, Alec was still able to save several dollars each
week. This year he would have all the shells from all the shippers, and
he was certain of a good profit. From this he meant to give his helper a
generous bonus.

In due time Captain Hardy and his accomplices were tried. Alec had to
appear as a witness against them, but he found that he had the moral
support of every honest shipper at Bivalve. And this time, true to
prediction, Hardy did go to prison, and every one of his pals went with
him. Their assault on Alec, and their evident intent to kill him, had as
much to do with their getting a prison sentence as the actual theft of
oysters did. So it came about that Alec was relieved of the danger of
personal injury.

Slowly the winter passed. Daily Alec's admiration for the shipper grew.
Now that he was helping with the books, Alec understood how very hard
hit the shipper was. He thought he understood the very sober face and
the worried look the captain carried. But never a word escaped the
captain's lips that would lead any one to think he was in difficulty,
and even Alec never guessed the actual truth.

Spring came. This time it was a warm, balmy spring. Earth and water and
air warmed up early and stayed warm. If only the oystermen had known it,
this was the season of all seasons to put down shells. But the oystermen
were in poor condition to do much of anything. There was hardly a man
among them who had not lost money. More than one of these almost lost
his faith with his money. In consequence, grounds were shelled lighter
than they had been in years.

But Alec had not lost his faith nor his determination. Everything that
he saw and read and heard tended to increase his belief that scientific
oystering would pay as the old rule-of-thumb style of oystering had
never paid. And the more he became convinced of that fact, the readier
he was to back his judgment with his cash, to bet more and more heavily
on himself. To him that hath, the Good Book tells us, shall be given.
Alec found it was even so. He had the knowledge. He had the oyster-bed.
He had the shells. And with many boats idle, he had ships aplenty at his
command. All that he had he risked on the shelling of his beds. He put
down bushels where other planters ordinarily planted baskets. And he
piled his shells in windrows transversely to the current. Shells by the
ton he planted in his bed, stopping only when his money was entirely
exhausted. When finally he had to end his efforts, he found that he had
shelled his grounds almost to the last rod.

But it had required more courage to do so than Alec had foreseen. He had
full confidence in his own judgment, and he had the support of Hawley,
but Captain Rumford had stormed and stormed at what he termed Alec's
folly. For the shipper had Alec's welfare very much at heart, and to him
there seemed very little difference between dumping dollars and dumping
shells into that great depth of water. In his own mind he was perfectly
certain that Alec had parted with every one of his hard earned dollars
that had gone into the shelling of the new bed.

But despite the shipper's opposition, Alec had persevered. Summer found
him with an empty pocket, but full of hope. And it found him well
toward his twenty-first birthday. But what a different lad he was from
the high school boy who had landed at Bivalve only a little less than
two years previously. Hard physical labor had broadened and built him
up. He was close to the six feet Captain Bagley had predicted for him.
He was as powerful as an ox. His courage had grown. His mind had
expanded with his body. His determination to climb up had become
stronger and stronger. The friendship between Elsa and himself was as
solid as a rock. It was founded on mutual respect and confidence. Trust
was its corner-stone.

Nor was Elsa the only one who trusted Alec, nor yet the shipper and
Alec's immediate friends. Everybody at the oyster wharves had confidence
in him. They knew his ambitions. They also knew he would achieve them.
Many a man among them would have risked his money on Alec as confidently
as Alec had done himself and would have done so gladly. For all money
and wealth in the world is won through the efforts of human beings. And
far-seeing business men are ever looking for dependable lads to invest
in, just as much as they are on the watch for other good bargains to
buy. But of all this Alec as yet had little realization. All he
understood was that he was keeping faith with himself and other men and
that he was slowly but surely forging ahead.




CHAPTER XXV

THE CRISIS


During the two years that followed, matters went from bad to worse for
the shipper. Even as Captain Hawley had predicted, the dearth of oysters
continued. Day after day the fleet came back from the oyster grounds
with the lightest of loads. But expenses were as heavy as ever. Gloomy,
indeed, were these days at Bivalve. Credit was strained to the utmost.
Ship-chandlers, merchants, supply houses, and banks were carrying
accounts long overdue, and lending still more money to men unable to pay
what they already owed. The lenders' only hope of getting out what they
had already put into the oyster business lay in putting in still more,
in carrying the shippers until the oyster business became prosperous
again. Yet there was a limit even here, and now one, and then another
shipper went to the wall.

Though nobody guessed it, Captain Rumford was in worse shape than any
other planter in the business. His loans were so widely scattered,
however, that not even the bankers suspected his actual condition.
Bravely he fought to stave off a smash. Finally he came to the point
where he had to sacrifice something or lose all. He sold a large
oyster-bed. Three years previously it would have brought him double the
price he now got for it. But now the oyster business was in the worst
sort of a depression. Nobody wanted oyster-beds at any price. Shippers
could not work what they already had. So for a time the captain's offer
went begging. Then finally some one who had money picked up the bargain.

Alec alone of the shipper's forces saw the oyster ground change hands
without sorrow. It was one of the beds that Alec had condemned. He
believed the shipper had benefited rather than harmed himself by the
sale. In his opinion Captain Rumford would have been wise to sell his
poor beds and work his good beds more intensively. He tried to tell the
shipper something of this, but it was cold comfort to the captain.

Weeks passed. Things grew steadily worse in the oyster business. Yet
there were exceptions to the general rule. More than one shipper was
making money. Anybody who had oysters would have made money, for as
oysters became scarcer the price rose higher. And some shippers had
them. Day after day their boats came in well laden. Day after day their
slips were occupied by well filled oyster scows, their piers encumbered
with long rows of bulging oyster sacks waiting to be trundled aboard the
trains. With his eyes open to all that was doing, Alec noted who these
fortunate shippers were. He was much about the piers now, for sometimes
for days on end the shipper kept him in the office to look after
things, while the shipper himself was absent on business. Daily Alec
made it a point to note who was shipping oysters in quantity. Now he
dropped a casual question here, now a joking inquiry there, until he
amassed an amount of information that was amazing. For he was finding
out far more than the mere matter of what planters had oysters. He was
ascertaining where each man's oysters came from, and whether they were
principally planted oysters or oysters that had set themselves in the
various beds. Alec even tabulated the information he got, and when his
table was complete, he examined his charts of the oyster-beds in the
light of it.

He now possessed the most complete data about the oyster grounds that
any one had probably ever collected. For his chart showed him, not only
the contour of the Bay and the location and ownership of the various
oyster-beds, but to a large extent the contour of the bottom of the Bay,
the depth of water at different points, the nature of the bottom,
whether muddy or sandy, while every principal slick and swirl and eddy
was plainly indicated. Now, as he studied these data, he wanted to shout
for very joy; for again and again he found proof of his own beliefs
about oysters, and confirmation of the facts he had gotten from his
little book. Here were planters with beds located much like the deep
water beds of Captain Rumford, who were getting next to nothing. Here
were others, with beds bordering a slick, like Captain Hardy's, who
were bringing in good catches of oysters, while still others whose
grounds lay in some great eddy, like Captain Rumford's inshore beds,
were coining money through their good hauls. Only where heavy plantings
had been made were there good crops in those areas that Alec considered
poor locations. Here was confirmation, indeed, here was proof, in very
truth, of the convictions that had formed in Alec's mind. He believed
that the truth about oyster grounds could be learned by any one who
would study diligently, as he had, and with an open mind. For Alec never
doubted that to him the truth was now an open secret.

All that he learned only convinced him the more that Captain Rumford's
enforced sale of his deep water beds was not the calamity the shipper
considered it. So he felt little distress when Captain Rumford was
compelled to sacrifice still another of his deep water holdings. But he
was frankly puzzled. He could not understand why this sale was
necessary. Although he knew that the shipper was losing money steadily,
he had a very fair idea as to the extent of these losses. To Alec it
seemed as though the sale of the first bed should have enabled the
captain to come through the season safely; for, though the bed had gone
at a sacrifice, nevertheless, the sum actually received for it was
large. That, with the money the captain did have, Alec thought, should
have carried him through the season. Yet it was no time at all before
the shipper was again in desperate straits. When the shipper parted
with still another of his holdings, Alec was dumfounded.

He went to Elsa with the matter. "Do you know," he asked, "why your
father found it necessary to sell his third oyster ground?"

Elsa looked at him searchingly. Alec misunderstood the look. "I am not
trying to pry into your father's affairs, Elsa," he said, "but you
know----"

"Of course you aren't, Alec," she replied. "Did you really think I
believed you were? You ought to know me better by this time, Alec. I
would never suspect you of doing anything dishonorable or discreditable.
But your question startled me. I didn't even know that father had sold
another oyster-bed. But I know he's deeply in trouble. Night after night
I hear him talking to mother about things, though I don't know what they
are saying, and mother looks so worried. And we have to be so careful
about expenses, Alec. Father has always given me almost everything I
asked for. Now he says he can't afford to spend a cent that he doesn't
just have to. I don't know what it all means, but I know he's in
trouble."

"Well, Elsa, you know I help keep his books, and I can't help knowing
something about his business. He lost money last year and he's losing
money this year. But the loss isn't so terrible that it should cause all
this distress. At least I don't see how it can be. Yet your father is
terribly worried. I can see it in a thousand ways. And he has sold
three oyster grounds now, and yet seems as hard pressed for money as
ever. You do know that I don't want to pry into his business, Elsa, but
I'd like to know more about it in a perfectly honest, friendly way.
Likely there isn't a thing in the world I can do to help him. But if
there is, I want to do it. That's why I'm asking you the present
question."

"Thank you, Alec," said Elsa. "That is very fine of you. I know you mean
every word of it. And I know it would give you pleasure to help father.
But I am as much puzzled as you are. And what you say worries me. Come
to me to-morrow night, and, meantime, I will see if I can learn what is
the matter."

A very sober-faced Elsa it was who greeted Alec on the next night.
"Come," she said. "Let us take a walk. I have lots to tell you, but I
cannot tell it here."

They left the house and walked in the moonlight along the cool country
road. On his arm Alec could feel Elsa's hand tremble. "Oh, Alec!" she
almost sobbed, when they had walked a little distance. "It's terrible,
just terrible. Father thinks he's going to lose everything he has--his
oyster grounds, his boats, all his stocks and bonds and money, and even
our very home. He says he doesn't know what is to become of us. He's too
old to make another fortune and we may have to go to the poorhouse." She
broke down and stopped in a flood of tears.

"Elsa, Elsa--dear," said Alec, "don't cry. Surely it cannot be so bad
as that. I cannot see how his indebtedness can be so great. He isn't
losing so terribly much."

She laid her head on his breast and Alec passed his arm protectingly
around her shoulders. "It isn't the oyster business at all, Alec. He has
some other debts we never even suspected. I asked him what was the
trouble and he told me everything. He said it would come easier if I
could prepare myself for the crash."

"But tell me about it, Elsa. What are these debts? Has your father been
speculating?"

"No, Alec. But he has made large investments on the partial payment
plan. If the oyster business had kept up the way it was going for two or
three years, he could have met his obligations nicely and canceled his
indebtedness. Now he not only has no revenue from his oysters to meet
the payments, but he is getting in debt deeper every day he runs his
boats."

"Why doesn't he stop running them?"

"Oh! He can't, Alec, he can't. He doesn't dare let anybody know the
situation, for nobody suspects it yet."

"But surely the banks will help him out. Why, if he has an equity in a
valuable property, even if it isn't fully paid for, the banks will
gladly lend him money."

"Oh, Alec! That's just where the trouble is. He's borrowed every cent
that anybody will lend him. He's tried and tried, and he can't borrow
another penny."

"But surely he can't be so desperately off as you think, Elsa."

"I'm afraid it's worse than I think. Mother has been crying all day.
Father said flatly that he didn't think there was a particle of hope.
He'll hang on as long as he can, in the hope that something may save
him. By selling more oyster-beds and his boats, he says he can keep his
head above water for a little while, but if he sells his grounds and his
boats, how is he ever to pay the debts he owes? Oh, Alec! It's
terrible!"

"Little girl," said Alec, "if I were to tell you that what you have just
told me makes me almost happy, I suppose you'd never speak to me again."

"Oh, Alec!" cried Elsa springing away from him. "Whatever do you mean?
You can't mean what you say."

"No, Elsa. I don't. I am distressed beyond measure about your father.
But if your father is in such bad condition financially, you wouldn't
call him rich any longer, would you?"

"Rich! Why, Alec, we'll soon be paupers. That's the very word father
used."

"Then if you are a pauper, Elsa, you wouldn't think me a fortune-hunter
if I asked you a question that's been in my heart for months, would
you?"

"I--I--I don't know," faltered Elsa. "How can I know when you haven't
even asked me?" But her tone showed very plainly that she knew.

"Are you sure you want me to ask you?" said Alec, raising her face with
his hand and looking straight into her eyes. "I'll wait--if you wish
it."

"Please--ask me," she said.

Alec bent his head and whispered in her ear.

"Are you asking because you really don't know, or just because you want
to hear me say yes?" asked Elsa, archly.

"How could I know, when you haven't told me?" retorted Alec. "And
anyway, I _do_ want to hear you say yes."

"Then I'll say it. Yes."

"Thank you, Elsa," said Alec, pressing her hand. "Now that I know, I
shall not bother you any more. What I must do, what we all must do, is
to try to save your father."

"Oh! If only he could get oysters, he'd pull through sound enough. I'm
sure of it. Prices were never higher. The shippers that have them are
coining money. If only father's beds would yield as they sometimes do,
he could meet all his interest charges and gradually pay off his debts."

"Then there's just one thing for me to do--find those oysters for him."




CHAPTER XXVI

VICTORY


Far into the night Alec lay awake, turning the situation over and over
in his mind. Where could he find the oysters for Captain Rumford? Find
them he must. Never could he see his friend and benefactor, the man who
had given him a start and who was helping him up the ladder--never could
he see him go to the wall if by any possibility he could prevent it. And
now, if he could only find the oysters, he could prevent it. But where
could he find the oysters? Where could they be had at a reasonable
figure?

He got up and lighted the lamp. Then he got his charts. Carefully he
examined his notes. He had marked down every bed in the Cove that was
producing well. One by one he examined the beds he had listed. Not one
of them offered the slightest solution to his problem. The men who owned
them were working them to capacity. He could hope for no help there.
Again and again he went over his list, only to become more and more
certain that no oysters were to be had.

In despair he turned to his chart itself. Bed after bed he examined,
still without success. Then he came to Hardy's bed. Why hadn't he
thought of it before, he asked himself. There must be oysters there. If
what he had read about oysters was true, there _must_ be oysters in
Hardy's bed. There must be quantities of them. Hardy had had plenty of
shells down. Alec knew about the shells. He didn't know whether Hardy
had planted many oysters or not. But if the shells were there, even if
Hardy hadn't planted any seed, the bed must be loaded with oysters, Alec
felt sure. Alec had examined the water in the bed. He knew it was
swarming with spat. There _must_ be oysters there. For the bed had lain
untouched since Hardy went to prison. During the hard times that had
come upon the oyster business these few years, almost nobody had bought
oyster-beds or wanted to buy any. And when they did buy, they wanted to
secure grounds from shippers known as careful oystermen, men like
Captain Rumford, who took care of their grounds and worked them; not men
like Captain Hardy, who was known to be reckless and careless, and who
never took care of his beds. So there they had lain, untouched through
all these months. There Alec could find oysters. There he _must_ find
them. For if he could not get them there, he could not get them at all.
It was Hardy's bed or nothing.

Now he got out his bank-book and counted to the last cent the money he
had on deposit, in his clothes, and owing him. Then he got his shell
records. His shell boy kept track of the number of bushels he gathered
from day to day, and each week Alec posted the record in his shell book.
So he knew almost to a basket what he had. The season was well along,
his pile of shells was large, though not so huge as it would have been
in a good year. But it was large enough. The shells in it were worth
hundreds of dollars.

Next day, his shell book in his hand, Alec went to the bank where the
captain had his account. He was well known there. He often made deposits
for the shipper, or drew the pay-roll for him. He was listened to
attentively. He wanted the bank to lend him a sum equal to the present
value of the shells. The bank could have the shell pile as security. The
pile would grow larger day by day.

"What do you want of the money?" the cashier asked him.

"I know where there is an unworked oyster-bed that I believe has oysters
in it. I want to lease it and work it."

"Suppose there are no oysters in it. What then?"

"But there are."

"How do you know? Have you been dredging in it?"

"No, sir; but I know. I've been studying the waters of the oyster
grounds for three years. I know every bed in the Cove. I know every
slick and swirl and eddy. I know where the oyster larvæ are thick and
where they are few. I know where you will get rich yields of oysters by
shelling and where you will get hardly any. And I know there are oysters
in this bed."

"See here, young man," said the banker, "I don't understand all this.
Nobody else ever talked to me this way about oysters and oyster-beds
before. And I've been dealing with oystermen all my life. Are you trying
to stuff me?"

"Of course you never heard anything like it," said Alec, "for nobody
ever did these things at Bivalve before. I am the first oysterman here
of the new type. There will be scientific oystermen aplenty in a little
while."

"I want to know more about this. Just come back into the directors' room
and tell me more about it."

Half an hour later Alec walked out of the directors' room, his face
shining. He signed a note and shoved it through the window to the
cashier.

"That's all right, Mr. Cunningham," said the cashier. "I'll put this sum
to your credit. And remember, if you need more we shall be glad to help
you out."

Alec thanked the banker and walked hastily out. "Now who'd have thought
that the mere story of what I've been doing would make him lend me the
money?" he said to himself. What Alec did not understand was that it was
his own character and not his story of scientific oyster methods that
got him the money. Like Captain Rumford and other men, the banker, too,
had been watching Alec through the years.

Straight to a lawyer Alec now hurried, with instructions to lease
Hardy's oyster grounds. "Lease them on a royalty basis, if you can, at
so much per bushel," said Alec. "If you can't get them that way, pay a
flat sum. I can give you so much now in cash, and the remainder from
month to month as we dredge the oysters."

In a few days the lease was secured. Hardy wanted a lump sum. Alec
signed the agreement and drew his check for all he had in the bank.
"Now," he said to himself, "everything I've got in the world is at
stake. I've backed my judgment to the limit. If I lose, I'll have to go
in debt to pay what I still owe Hardy. If I win, the shipper is saved."

From the lawyer's office Alec went to the shipper's home. He found Elsa,
as he had hoped he would, and told her what he had done.

"Oh, Alec!" she said. "I can't begin to tell you how fine you have been.
If only you do get the oysters--won't it be wonderful!"

He sought out the shipper. "Captain Rumford," he said, "I wish you would
lend me the _Bertha B_ for a day."

The shipper looked at him in astonishment. "What do you want of the
_Bertha B_?" he asked curiously.

"I've leased Hardy's oyster-beds," said Alec quietly. "I borrowed the
worth of my shell pile and added all my savings to that and paid it down
on a lease, and I still owe money on it. I want to see if there are any
oysters in the bed."

Captain Rumford looked at his assistant as though the latter had
suddenly gone crazy. "You're joking," he said.

"I'm telling the simple truth," replied Alec. "I very much want to know
whether there are any oysters in that bed. Wouldn't you, if you had
leased it?"

"Alec! Alec!" cried the shipper sternly. "Have you lost every bit of
sense you ever had? You won't get a dollar's worth of oysters out of
that bed. I've told you time and again those deep water beds are no
place for oysters."

"You have, indeed, Captain Rumford," said Alec. "I know exactly what you
think of them. What I want to know now is whether you'll lend me the
_Bertha B_ for a day."

"You might as well know the truth first as last," said the shipper.
"There is nothing so terrible as suspense. Take the boat and welcome."
And the shipper turned away with his face so haggard that it made Alec's
heart ache.

Twenty-four hours later the _Bertha B_ came plowing up to her pier. Alec
leaped ashore and ran to the shipper's office. "Captain Rumford!" he
called, his eyes shining, his voice vibrant with emotion, "Will you
please come out on the pier?"

The captain came slowly down the stairs. In looks he had aged ten years.
His face was drawn and haggard. His brow was deeply furrowed. Dark
circles were about his eyes. His step was uncertain, almost shambling.
His shoulders were stooped. Alec was shocked when he looked at him.

"What is it?" asked the shipper in a dull, lifeless tone.

"Please come look at the _Bertha B_. I just wanted you to see her before
we go to the float."

The shipper followed Alec down the pier. Half-way he stopped dead in his
tracks, paralyzed with astonishment. The _Bertha B_ sat so low in the
water her decks were almost awash. Her cabin, her hatches, her deck, her
forepeak, all were covered with oysters. The boat was fairly swamped
with them.

"Oysters!" gasped the astonished shipper. "How many have you? Where did
you get them? What are you going to do with them?"

"There's more than a thousand dollars' worth," said Alec. "We are going
to put them on your big float up the river."

"But where did you get them?"

"In the bed I just leased--Tom Hardy's bed. Come into the office and
I'll tell you all about it. I don't want to do it here."

Alec waved his hand to Skipper Hawley, then took the shipper by the arm
and led him up to his office.

"Captain Rumford," he said, "there are oysters and oysters and oysters
out there. I can bring you in a thousand dollars' worth a day. While we
were at it, we just looked at my grounds and they're simply covered with
oysters, too. There are tons and tons of them in my beds. They are a
little too small to dredge yet, but they'll be all right next fall. And
your own shallow beds will be ready to dredge then, too."

The shipper fairly gasped. "You got those oysters out in that deep
water?" he said. Then he asked, "What are you going to do with them now
that you have them?"

"That's just what I want to talk about, Captain," said Alec. "I've got
the oysters. You've got the boats. If we could just make some sort of
agreement--if we could somehow combine forces--why, Captain, if you'll
just go ahead and dredge oysters for yourself until you get on your feet
again, and then dredge a few for me----" Alec stopped, embarrassed. He
did not know how to say what he wanted to say, now that the time had
come to say it.

The shipper looked at him with the old piercing glance that had seemed
to bore through Alec so long ago. "Boy," he said, "what are you trying
to do--give me those oysters after the way you've toiled and studied and
saved to get them?"

"Oh! Captain, if you'll only take them," said Alec, "I'll be the
happiest fellow in the world. They are yours--every one you need, even
if you need them all."

"God bless you, lad," cried the shipper, blowing his nose violently, and
beginning to pace the floor. "How I would like to take them. Why, they'd
save me, lad. They'd save me."

"Then take them. That's why I got them, Captain Rumford,--to save you."

The captain turned and faced his assistant. "I will take them," he
said. "I will take them. But I'll take them on one condition. I take
them as your partner." He hesitated a moment. His face paled a bit.
"Maybe you wouldn't want a broken-down old man as a partner," he said,
"an old man already behind the times."

"Captain Rumford," said Alec, "you are jesting. Surely you don't mean
that you want me as your partner in business. Why, I have no money now,
and I have nothing, sir, but a little oyster-bed to put up against your
great oyster grounds and your boats. It's a wonderful opportunity, sir,
but it wouldn't be fair to you to take it."

"Humph!" said the shipper. "Not fair, when I shall owe to you everything
I have in the world. I am the one who is penniless; for without these
oysters you offer I am a pauper. Now will you become my partner?"

"Oh, Captain!" said Alec. "Of course I will, but I never dreamed of such
a thing."

"Likely not," said the captain. "But I have known for a long time that
it was coming."

"What!" gasped Alec.

"Certainly," said the shipper. "I rather suspected it the first time I
set eyes on you. I knew it the night you went overboard after Hawley."

"What do you mean?" asked Alec. "I don't understand it at all, sir."

"It's plain enough, lad. A man of my age can't carry on a business
forever. I've needed somebody to help me for a long time back and I've
been looking for some one, too. Yet I never could find just the man I
wanted as a partner. But when I found how clean and true and fine you
were, young man, and when I came to know you well enough to understand
that I could trust you as I can my own wife, my mind was made up. What
do you think I've had you in the office for, anyway? What do you think
I've put my business more and more in your hands for? Didn't you ever
suspect that I was training you up to carry on the work when I couldn't
do it any longer?"

"Captain!" gasped Alec. "I can hardly believe it. To think of my being
an oyster shipper--now--when I was only this morning a deck-hand. It
just doesn't seem possible."

"Are you sure that you're satisfied with the bargain? Don't you want to
draw out before it's too late?"

An idea came to Alec and he stepped quickly toward the shipper. "There
is one thing more I'd like," he said, "something I want more than
anything else in the world."

The shipper looked at him uncertainly, questioningly, as though
displeased. "Name it," he said brusquely.

"Your daughter, sir."

"God bless me!" said the shipper. "You want a lot."

"Hadn't you foreseen that, too?" asked Alec, smiling.

"I wouldn't be truthful if I said no," said the shipper.

"Your answer?" said Alec.

"_My_ answer?" said the shipper. "What about the girl? Don't you think
it would be a good thing to ask her?"

"I have," said Alec, blushing. "She's like that man I told you of once."

"That man?" said the shipper, puzzled. "What man? What was his name?"

"Barkis," said Alec.

The shipper laughed and held out his hand. "Take her, son," he said.
"You deserve her. And take an old man's blessing. You have saved a gray
head from disgrace. Now God bless you."







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