saved my life. I'm sorry he's a Portuguee. He can't talk much, but he's
an everlasting musician. He found me struck adrift and drifting, and
hauled me in."

"I wonder your nervous system isn't completely wrecked," said Mrs.
Cheyne.

"What for, Mama? I worked like a horse and I ate like a hog and I slept
like a dead man."

That was too much for Mrs. Cheyne, who began to think of her visions of
a corpse rocking on the salty seas. She went to her stateroom, and
Harvey curled up beside his father, explaining his indebtedness.

"You can depend upon me to do everything I can for the crowd, Harve.
They seem to be good men on your showing."

"Best in the Fleet, sir. Ask at Gloucester," said Harvey. "But Disko
believes still he's cured me of being crazy. Dan's the only one I've
let on to about you, and our private cars and all the rest of it, and
I'm not quite sure Dan believes. I want to paralyze 'em to-morrow. Say,
can't they run the 'Constance' over to Gloucester? Mama don't look fit
to be moved, anyway, and we're bound to finish cleaning out by
tomorrow. Wouverman takes our fish. You see, we're the first off the
Banks this season, and it's four twenty-five a quintal. We held out
till he paid it. They want it quick."

"You mean you'll have to work to-morrow, then?"

"I told Troop I would. I'm on the scales. I've brought the tallies with
me." He looked at the greasy notebook with an air of importance that
made his father choke. "There isn't but three--no--two ninety-four or
five quintal more by my reckoning."

"Hire a substitute," suggested Cheyne, to see what Harvey would say.

"Can't, sir. I'm tally-man for the schooner. Troop says I've a better
head for figures than Dan. Troop's a mighty just man."

"Well, suppose I don't move the 'Constance' to-night, how'll you fix
it?"

Harvey looked at the clock, which marked twenty past eleven.

"Then I'll sleep here till three and catch the four o'clock freight.
They let us men from the Fleet ride free as a rule."

"That's a notion. But I think we can get the 'Constance' around about
as soon as your men's freight. Better go to bed now."

Harvey spread himself on the sofa, kicked off his boots, and was asleep
before his father could shade the electrics. Cheyne sat watching the
young face under the shadow of the arm thrown over the forehead, and
among many things that occurred to him was the notion that he might
perhaps have been neglectful as a father.

"One never k