Joe would go aft, and call, "Kittee, Kittee--come, Kittee!" Then
with superb curves the lovely gulls swept round, and remained delicately
poised over the stern. Joe flung pieces of fish into the air, and kept
chatting volubly as his pets swooped and squabbled. "Go and tell them
we're coming, Kittee, my prittee. Only twenty days more and round she
goes. Tell them we're all well, you sluts, and you'll have plenty of
fish when we run out again." The gulls are the fisherman's friends, and
the men insist on crediting the beautiful, rapacious birds with an
accurate knowledge of human affairs.
So the days flew by, and the time came when sugar--the seaman's luxury
in winter--began to run short. That was enough to make the fellows sick
for home, and they were ready to dance for joy when the gay flag was
hoisted at last. Gaily the Esperanza rattled through the fleet, and
envious men cried "What cheer!" in a doleful manner. After a twelve
hours' run the wind fell away, and the sky began to look funny.
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