'Wall, it's Dave
Rollin,' says he; 'in the purtiest little craft, that runs jest like a
picter,' and he said they couldn't see but two men aboard of her then; he
guessed they wan't many. It was jest like Dave Rollin to take a run from
Wallen down this way to show what he could do alone, for he was always
braggin' about bein' so stiddy on his sea-legs, and how't he understood
this shore better'n any o' the old uns.
"My man said they didn't know who 'twas out there, at first, for it ain't
the kind o' vessel often seen, and it skimmed along on the edge o' the
water, Sim said, like a bird, in and out amongst the rocks, so't
anybody'd a thought, not knowin' who they was--and them, maybe, not
knowin' the shore--that they was drunk or gone crazy; and Sim said they
hollered to 'em to look out for the rocks, and they heered a kind of a
laugh on the water, and somebody shouted back:
"'Stow your gab, land lubbers!' and they knew from the voice it was Dave
Rollin.
"He was probably meanin' to put in there, and might 'a' come ashore may
be,--he was wild enough--but he seen our men and that kind o' hindered
him; he didn't want to turn round and put right back neither, lookin'
as though he was scared, so he kep' on, and Sim said they watched 'em
clean out o' sight; 'but,' says he, 'I never seen a man turn whiter'n
George Olver did for a minute, and then he onclinched his fist and went
to work ag'in, harder than ever, for you can allays depend on Jim,
somehow--George Olver--but he's a dreadful close-mouthed fellow!"
During the recital of this narrative, recalling so much to my mind, I
experienced more than anything else a feeling of annoyance, almost of
resentment, that the fisherman should appear, however remotely, to
disturb the serenity of these last few days in which I had to live out
my Wallencamp idyl.
Pages:
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360