id Long
Jack. "I wondher what mischief he's been at ashore."

"He's a trawler," Dan explained to Harvey, "an' he runs in fer bait all
along the coast. Oh, no, not home, he don't go. He deals along the
south an' east shore up yonder." He nodded in the direction of the
pitiless Newfoundland beaches. "Dad won't never take me ashore there.
They're a mighty tough crowd--an' Abishai's the toughest. You saw his
boat? Well, she's nigh seventy year old, they say; the last o' the old
Marblehead heel-tappers. They don't make them quarterdecks any more.
Abishai don't use Marblehead, though. He ain't wanted there. He jes'
drif's araound, in debt, trawlin' an' cussin' like you've heard. Bin a
Jonah fer years an' years, he hez. 'Gits liquor frum the Feecamp boats
fer makin' spells an' selling winds an' such truck. Crazy, I guess."

"'Twon't be any use underrunnin' the trawl to-night," said Tom Platt,
with quiet despair. "He come alongside special to cuss us. I'd give my
wage an' share to see him at the gangway o' the old Ohio 'fore we quit
floggin'. Jest abaout six dozen, an' Sam Mocatta layin' 'em on
criss-cross!"

The disheveled "heel-tapper" danced drunkenly down wind, and all eyes
followed her. Suddenly the cook cried in his phonograph voice: "It wass
his own death made him speak so! He iss fey--fey, I tell you! Look!"
She sailed into a patch of watery sunshine three or four miles distant.
The patch dulled and faded out, and even as the light passed so did the
schooner. She dropped into a hollow and--was not.

"Run under, by the Great Hook-Block!" shouted Disko, jumping aft.
"Drunk or sober, we've got to help 'em. Heave short and break her out!
Smart!"

Harvey was thrown on the deck by the shock that followed the setting of
the jib and foresail, for they hove short on the cable, and to save
time, jerked the anchor bodily from the bottom, heaving in as they
moved away. This is a bit of brute force seldom resorted to except in
matters of life and death, and the little _We're Here_ complained like
a human. They ran down to where Abishai's craft had vanished; found two
or three trawl-tubs, a gin-bottle, and a stove-in dory, but nothing
more. "Let 'em go," said Disko, though no one had hinted at picking
them up. "I wouldn't hev a match that belonged to Abishai aboard. Guess
she run clear under. Must ha' been spewin' her oakum fer a week, an'
they never thought to pump her. That's one more boat gone along o'
leavin' port all hands