A LETTER FOR ALEC
So it came about that when the _Bertha B_ sailed for the oyster grounds
next morning, Alec was not aboard of her. He passed a restless night in
his bunk, and was astir the moment Dick arrived to start breakfast. He
pulled on his clothes and set about helping the cook, who knew nothing
whatever about Alec's adventure. He raked the fire, put on fresh coal,
filled the coffee-pot with water from the cask on deck, and tried to
make himself unobtrusively helpful. His head still ached, and he did not
feel very well. In his secret heart he was glad enough that the captain
would not allow him to go out to the oyster grounds.
When he had eaten his breakfast, Alec went ashore with the skipper,
while the boats moored outside the _Bertha B_ were casting loose.
Captain Bagley opened the office and stirred the fire.
"Keep it warm in here," he said to Alec. "You can set and sleep in this
easy chair, or you can lay down on a bunk in the other room. Now take
care of yourself." And the captain was off.
For a time Alec sat by the fire, thinking over the events of the past
few days. Then he fell to meditating on what he ought to do with
himself. He had never had a consuming desire to do any one thing in life
in preference to all other tasks, as some boys have. Always he had cared
more for boats and the water than for any other form of sport; but it
had never occurred to him that boating might in some sense become his
life-work. Now the possibility seemed very real, and not at all
distasteful. But if he became an oysterman, he wanted to be more than
merely a deck-hand. He wanted to climb up, to be at the top of the
business instead of the bottom. When he remembered what he had been told
as to the difficulties of becoming an oyster-planter and of the large
amount of money required, he could see no way to achieve such an end. He
did not see how he could ever earn and save enough money to buy an
oyster-boat. Alec was a lad of good sense, however, and after
speculating about the matter for a time, he suddenly said to himself,
"This is all foolishness. You don't even know yet whether or not you
want to be an oysterman. If you do, the best way to succeed is to learn
all about the business you can. So you had better get out and make use
of your time, instead of loafing here."
He left the office and went down to the pier shed. Practically all the
oyster-boats had cast off and were on their way to the Bay. Alec could
see their lights twinkling in the darkness over a long stretch of river.
It was still too early for those who worked about the piers to be on
hand, so Alec had the pier shed pretty much to himself. He walked up and
down, looking at everything that interested him.
Presently the night-watchman came along, lantern in hand, and looked at
him pretty sharply. "Looking for somebody?" he asked; and Alec saw the
man was suspicious of him.
"Just waiting for Captain Rumford or some of his scow men," said Alec.
"I'm working for the captain. Went out on the _Bertha B_ yesterday, but
I'm going to work here to-day."
The watchman seemed satisfied. "You're working for a fine man," he said.
"There ain't none better than Captain Rumford."
Together they strolled along until they came to Captain Rumford's pier.
In the slip were four oyster scows, their bottoms littered with old
shells. All the other scows about had been cleaned and put in order.
"The captain won't like that," said the watchman. "That's twice lately
that nobody got his shells. He's the very deuce for having things
orderly."
"What do you mean?" asked Alec. "Was somebody supposed to take those
shells away?" And he thought of the old man he had been following when
he was thrown overboard.
"Sure. There are several fellows that collect 'em, and the captain
always gives 'em to the first fellow that asks for 'em, though old Pete
usually gets 'em. But the captain don't care who takes 'em, so his
scows are clean."
"What does anybody want old oyster shells for?" demanded Alec. "Why, I
saw an old man with a whole boat load of them."
"They want 'em to sell," explained the watchman. "Guess you don't know
much about the oyster business yet."
"Don't know a thing," said Alec. "Never saw an oyster-boat before
yesterday. I can't imagine how anybody could sell all the shells that
old fellow had in his boat."
"A fellow could sell a million bushels of 'em if he had 'em," said the
watchman. "You know the oyster-planters put these shells back in the
oyster-beds in spring. They buy 'em back from these fellows at five
cents a bushel."
"What!" exclaimed Alec. "The planters sow oyster shells in their beds!
Surely you can't grow little oysters from old shells!"
The watchman laughed heartily at Alec. "Of course you can't grow little
oysters _from_ old shells. But you can grow 'em _on_ old shells."
"I don't understand."
"Why, the little oysters--spats we calls 'em--just floats about in the
water after they are born, and if they didn't have anything to fasten
to, they'd all die and be lost. There ain't nothin' they can fasten to
on the mud bottoms, so the oystermen puts down old shells and the spats
makes fast to 'em."
"Well, I never!" exclaimed Alec. "There's a whole lot more to oystering
than I ever dreamed. I reckon what you say accounts for the way oysters
grow in clusters. We dredged up lots of clusters of oysters with four or
five oysters stuck together. And now that I think of it, I remember that
there were usually one or two old shells in each cluster."
"I reckon Captain Rumford will be right mad when he sees them shells in
the scows," said the watchman. "I heard him giving Pete--that's the old
fellow you spoke of--the deuce only last week for not getting the scows
clean on time. You see, it's the rush season. Help is short, and it's
all the captain can do to keep up with his orders. Now these scows will
have to be cleaned before any more oysters can be fetched."
"Then I'll clean them," said Alec, and getting some baskets, he dropped
into the nearest scow. The watchman moved on about his work.
In no time Alec had the scow clean and her burlap sacks piled neatly in
the centre. He hoisted his baskets of shells to the pier and tackled the
next scow.
Captain Rumford was on hand before any of his men came. "Who put those
shells there?" he demanded, noticing the baskets Alec had placed along
the edge of the pier.
"I did, sir," said Alec, somewhat fearfully.
"You did! Where did you get them, and what did you do it for?"
"I got them out of the scows, sir. They hadn't been cleaned."
"The deuce they hadn't. That's twice Pete has left my scows full of
shells within two weeks. We've got to have some better method of getting
rid of old shells. Can't stand this. Busy as all fiddlesticks and our
scows full of shells when we come to work.
"Say, boy," said Captain Rumford after a moment's pause, "who told you
to clean out those scows?"
"Nobody, sir. I thought it would help along with the day's work and I
did it. I didn't know what else to do with them, so I put them in the
baskets I found here."
"You've got some sense, lad. Keep on that way and you'll be an oyster
shipper before you can vote."
Zipp and his two scow men soon arrived. The captain lent Alec his boots,
which were far too large for Alec, and one of the scow men gave him a
reefing-jacket. A motor-boat lay in the slip. Zipp started the engine,
while the other men made fast the scows, and soon the little party was
chugging off to an oyster-float. The four scow men sat in the motor-boat
and the scows were towed behind. With great oyster-forks, somewhat like
enlarged spading forks, the gang shoveled the oysters from the float
into the scows. It was hard work, for the forks were large and the
oysters heavy. When the oysters were all taken up, the scows were towed
back to the shipping pier and made fast in the slip again. Then the
counting began.
Zipp showed Alec how to count his oysters, two at a cast. The four
counters dropped to their knees and began work. But Alec paused for a
moment to watch his companions. He saw that Zipp could count oysters
faster than either of the two other scow men, just as Sailor Bishop
could cull them faster than either Joe or Dick. Alec watched Zipp
closely, to see how he worked. Then he set himself to the task of
learning how to count fast. He still had the finger-stalls he had worn
the day before and the sharp shells did not hurt his fingers in the
least. In a little while he was making the oysters fairly fly.
Basket after basket, the oysters were shoved up on the pier, where other
workers emptied them into sacks. Captain Rumford himself sewed the sacks
up and kept a watchful eye on things. In no time, there was a long row
of sacks standing ready for shipment.
"Just keep track of the number of baskets that lad hands up," whispered
the shipper to an assistant. "We'll time him for an hour." Thus Alec
underwent another test, though he was altogether in ignorance of the
fact that his work was being watched.
At every pier men were counting oysters, while other men filled the
sacks and trundled them off to the waiting freight-cars. The place was
as busy as a beehive, yet there was no noise or confusion. No swearing,
no loud talk, disturbed the general quiet. Only the rumble of the
trucks, as men trundled the sacked oysters over the plank floor, rose
above the subdued hum.
"Hour's up!" said Captain Rumford, glancing at his watch, after a time.
"How many baskets did the kid count?"
"Seventy-seven."
"The deuce he did! Why, that's ten thousand oysters. Of course Zipp's
crew average about 11,000 an hour, but they're the best crew here. The
average counter won't handle more than 8,000 to 9,000 an hour. The kid's
quick."
Presently the skipper got his shipping tags and tied them on the sacks.
Then a man with a truck began to wheel the sacks away to the cars.
Dinner time came. All hands went up to the office to eat their lunches,
about the warm stove.
"Here," said Zipp, seeing that Alec had nothing to eat, "have a
sandwich."
"No. Thanks," said Alec, rather diffidently. "I am not very hungry." But
his eyes belied his tongue.
"That won't do at all," said the skipper. "Take this and run over to the
hotel and get a good square meal."
Alec protested. The oyster shipper shoved a dollar into his hand.
"Now run along, quick," he said, "for we've got to get right back to
work as soon as we can. And none of us can work without food."
Alec was glad enough when Captain Rumford insisted, and taking the
money, he hurried away to get his dinner. The long table fairly groaned
under the array of good things, and every diner was free to eat as much
as he liked. For the first time in his life, Alec ate oyster potpie; and
wished he could hold more. His dinner cost him seventy-five cents, and
Alec began to understand how fortunate he was to be eating aboard the
_Bertha B_. Even if his pay should prove to be small, he could still
save something, and he needed money desperately.
Alec intended to give back to Captain Rumford the twenty-five cents left
from his dollar. But the men were already in the scows when he got back
and Captain Rumford was up in his office. Alec went to work, and forgot
about the quarter.
All the afternoon Alec worked as fast as he could make his fingers fly.
He was working alongside of Zipp, one of the most expert oyster counters
at Bivalve; and it provoked Alec that he could not hand up the baskets
as fast as his fellow. But try as he would, he could not fill the basket
as rapidly as Zipp did. The oysters were all counted and sacked before
the _Bertha B_ came chugging up to her pier. Alec went aboard her as
soon as she made fast, and the cook considerately gave him his supper.
Then Dick went off to buy supplies for the next day. Alec asked if he
might go along. They got a roast of meat, some sausage, canned beans,
butter, bread, condensed milk, and other articles.
Captain Bagley, meantime, had gone to the office to make his daily
report to Captain Rumford. That done, he started for a store to buy a
cigar, when the postmaster hailed him. "Say, Cap'n," he said, "you don't
know anything about a party named Cunningham, do you? I've got a letter
addressed to an Alec Cunningham, care of Thomas Robinson. You and
Robinson used to be such pals I thought you might know something about
it."
"You've come to just the right place. That's Robinson's nephew. He's a
member of my crew now. I'll just get that letter and give it to the
kid."
When Captain Bagley returned to the _Bertha B_ Alec was sitting alone in
the cabin.
"Here's a letter for you, Alec," said the skipper.
Alec tore the letter open and ran his eye over it. Tears came into his
eyes, and he bowed his head on his chest.
"What's wrong, lad?" asked the skipper, kindly.
Alec could not trust himself to reply. He merely thrust the letter into
the skipper's hand.
Captain Bagley read the communication and frowned. "He's pretty much of
a skunk," he said.
The letter was an imperative demand for the balance due on the tombstone
Alec had ordered for his father. Unless this were first received, the
letter said, the stone would not be set up.
"I judge you paid him something?" said the captain questioningly.
"Paid him half the price. It took every cent I had. That's why I landed
here without a penny. And that's why I need money so bad. Oh! I must
get it somehow. I must! I must!"
"Now, don't you worry about this," said the kindly oysterman. "We can
fix it up for you somehow."
But Alec refused to be comforted.