We were out of Newport Harbor before daybreak of next morning, and
cruised inside Block Island all that day. We all thought the skipper
would be in to Newport that night--it was no more than a two hours'
run the way the wind was--and we waited.
The test came after supper. We had supper as usual, at three o'clock.
Breakfast at four, dinner at ten, supper at three--mug-ups before and
after and in between. Along about four o'clock the skipper, standing
on the break, stood looking back toward where Newport lay. Had we
turned then we'd have been in nicely by dark. It was a fine
afternoon--the finest kind of an afternoon--a clear blue sky, and a
smooth blue sea with the surface just rippling beautifully. All fire
was the sun and the sails of every vessel in sight looked white as
could be. Several yachts passed us--steam and sail--all bright and
handsome and all bound into Newport, and the skipper's eyes rested
long on them--on one of them particularly with music aboard.
The skipper looked back a long time--looked back, and looked back. He
began walking the quarter--back and forth, back and forth, back and
forth. The sun got lower and lower, the sea lost some of its blue, and
the air grew fresher, and still he kept looking back.
"It'll be a grand sunset to-night, Tommie."
"The finest kind. But one thing wrong with it."
"What's that?"
"We're not seeing it astern of us."
The skipper stopped. "Astern? That's so, too--it _is_ a fine westerly,
isn't it?"
Clancy said nothing, only leaned against the rigging, not a move out
of him--puffing his pipe and looking away.
Nobody spoke till the skipper spoke again.
"Who's to the wheel--you, Steve? How's she heading now?"
"No'the by west."
"No'the by west? Put her east by no'the--ease off your mainsheet. Let
it go to the knot. Call the gang and make sail--stays'l and
balloon--everything--we'll go home, I guess."
Clancy snapped the pipe out of his mouth and hove it over the rail.
Then he went for the forec's'le gangway. In two jumps he was there.
"Up, you loafers--on deck and make sail. 'To the east'ard,' says the
skipper, and over the shoals we'll put her to-night."
"Home! Home--good enough--and hurroo!" we could hear from below.
The skipper said nothing more--only all night long he walked the
quarter.
Next day when we were almost abreast of Cape Cod Clancy began to
instruct me. "Here's a tip for any girl friends you got, Joe. See the
skipper last night? Tell them if they're after a man--a real man--even
if he's a bit shy--tell them--" Oh, the advice that Clancy could
give!
About the time that we left Cape Cod light astern and squared away for
Thatcher's--with Gloucester Harbor almost in sight--with the rocks of
Eastern Point dead ahead--Clancy began to sing again:
"Oh, a deep blue sky and a deep blue sea
And a blue-eyed girl awaiting me--
Too-roo-roo and a too-roo-ree--
Who wouldn't a Gloucester seiner be?
Ha, Joey-boy?" and gave me a slap on the shoulder that sent me
half-way to the break.
That was all right, but I went aloft so I could see the rocks of Cape
Ann a mite sooner. I was just beginning to discover that I had been
almost homesick.