to the neighboring cove, as has
already been said, while Ferris and John Packer stood together talking
in the yard. In this fishing-boat were two other men, younger and
lighter-hearted, if it were only for the reason that neither of them
had such a store of petty ill deeds and unkindnesses to remember in
dark moments. They were in an old dory, and there was much ice
clinging to her, inside and out, as if the fishers had been out for
many hours. There were only a few cod lying around in the bottom,
already stiffened in the icy air. The wind was light, and one of the
men was rowing with short, jerky strokes, to help the sail, while the
other held the sheet and steered with a spare oar that had lost most
of its blade. The wind came in flaws, chilling, and mischievous in its
freaks. "I ain't goin' out any more this year," said the younger man,
who rowed, giving a great shudder. "I ain't goin' to perish myself for
a pinch o' fish like this"--pushing them with his heavy boot.
"Generally it's some warmer than we are gittin' it now, 'way into
January. I've got a good chance to go into Otis's shoe-shop; Bill Otis
was tellin' me he didn't know but he should go out West to see his
uncle's folks,--he done well this last season, lobsterin',--an' I can
have his bench if I want it. I do' know but I may make up some
lobster-pots myself, evenin's an' odd times, and take to lobsterin'
another season. I know a few good places that Bill Otis ain't struck;
and then the scarcer lobsters git to be, the more you git for 'em, so
now a poor ketch's 'most better 'n a good one."

"Le' me take the oars," said Joe Banks, without attempting a reply to
such deep economical wisdom.

"You hold that sheet light," grumbled the other man, "or these
gusts'll have us over. An' don't let that old oar o' yourn range about
so. I can't git no hold o' the water." The boat lifted suddenly on a
wave and sank again in the trough, the sail flapped, and a great cold
splash of salt water came aboard, floating the fish to the stern,
against Banks's feet. Chauncey, grumbling heartily, began to bail with
a square-built wooden scoop for which he reached far behind him in the
bow.

"They say the sea holds its heat longer than the land, but I guess
summer's about over out here." He shivered again as he spoke. "Come,
le' 's say this is the last trip, Joe."

Joe looked up at the sky, quite unconcerned. "We may have it warmer
after we git more snow," he said. "I'd like to