For a moment Hans was wistful, as though he had gone back in memory to
the first _Spray_.
Tom Nedley brought another set of wheels, rolled them into place, and
covered the bare axle with a soft blanket. He used another blanket to
pad the axle to which the horse was hitched, and Hans steered the horse
into position. Hans, Tom and Ramsay lifted one end of the oaken beam
onto the rear wheels. Ramsay helped lift the other end onto the other
set of wheels, and stood aside while Hans lashed both with ropes.
Ramsay watched interestedly. Hans used his ropes to permit flexibility,
while at the same time he took no chances on their chafing or breaking.
Apparently fishermen could do anything with ropes. Ramsay tied the
unbolted seat and body to the top of the oaken beam. Hans took the
little horse's bridle and led him carefully back to the road. Mounted on
its four wheels, the long oaken beam swayed and turned.
Leading the little horse, careful of everything that lay in front,
behind and on both sides, Hans set a very slow pace. It was as though
the beam were a very fragile thing that might break should it brush even
the smallest tree. Actually, if it hit one hard, it would have broken
any small tree in its path and rocked the larger ones. Hans continued to
treat it as though it were a very delicate thing.
Destined to be the keel of the _Spray II_, when they reached Pieter's
house the beam was lovingly set up on three scaffoldings made of
four-by-sixes and arranged near the lake. Hans patted it as lovingly as
he would have stroked a favorite dog. "We have a start!" he said
happily.
"Why do we need another boat?" Ramsay queried.
"For setting gill nets," Hans replied. "You are not a fisherman unless
you know how to set a gill net, and you cannot set a gill net unless you
have a proper Mackinaw boat." He petted the oaken beam again. "As
responsive as a canoe it shall be, but as strong as a pound boat! This
one shall not break no matter what happens. The lake will not breed a
storm that it will be unable to ride out."
That night Ramsay's was the first watch. He rowed the pound boat from
one to another of their three pound nets. No strange vessel disturbed
the lake, no hostile creature approached. Ramsay gave his watch over to
Hans, and slept until dawn. They fished, processed their catch and
loaded thirty thousand pounds of whitefish onto the _Jackson_ when she
nosed into their pier.
Ramsay went with Hans and Pieter to a place where some mighty cedar
trees, that had grown for centuries, had been cut when the snow was
deep. Their weathered stumps thrust six feet or more above the green
foliage that surrounded them, and Hans chose very carefully. He wanted
only those stumps with a fine, closely knit grain, those which, even in
death, showed no cracks or flaws. He found three of which he approved,
and Ramsay and Pieter used a cross-cut saw to cut them off very close to
the earth. Ramsay began to understand the project in Hans' mind.
Because of weather conditions, pound nets, at the very most, could be
used for only about three to four months out of every year. The seine,
though under no circumstances would Hans fish in the spawning season,
could be dragged in until the bay froze. But gill nets could be used
for seven or eight months if one had a proper boat, and Hans wanted to
build one that would ride out any storm.
It was not to be an ordinary Mackinaw boat, but one such as Lake
Michigan had never seen. Its oaken keel had been chosen with an eye to
the heaviest seas and the ice that speckled those seas in spring or
fall. Though some fishermen used cedar planking for the ribbing of their
boats, and steamed it until it could be bent into the desired shape,
Hans intended to cut his directly from cedar stumps that had already
endured five hundred years and ten thousand storms. Then the _Spray II_
would be sheathed with the best possible cedar planking and calked with
the best obtainable oakum, or rope soaked in tar.
They would not float her this season. Neither effort nor expense were to
be spared in the building of the _Spray II_, and constructing her
properly would be a winter's job. But as soon as the ice broke next year
she would be ready to float, and they would be ready to set their gill
nets.
Ramsay grinned fleetingly as he tossed bushels of ground corn into the
pond so that the numerous sturgeon he had imprisoned there would have
enough to eat. It seemed so very long ago that he had thrown in with
Hans and Pieter and decided to become a fisherman, and he still hadn't
two silver dollars to jingle in his pocket. Not one day, scarcely one
hour had been free of grueling labor. But they had two pound boats,
three pound nets, had bought another seine, and with spring they would
have the _Spray II_. In addition, there was enough of the season left,
so that they should be able to catch plenty of fish before either ice
or the spawning period curtailed operations. That would give them enough
money to buy gill nets, as well as anything else they needed. None of
the four partners would come out of this season with money in their
pockets. They would own a sufficient amount of equipment for next year,
and much of what they earned then would be profit.
That night Ramsay took the third watch. He rowed softly from one pound
net to the other, always keeping in the shadows so that there was small
danger of his being noticed. He had been out about an hour, and had two
more to go, when he saw a boat approaching.
It came from the north, Three Points, and its row locks were so well
greased that not the faintest sound came from them. The oarsman was
expert; he dipped and raised his oars so that there was no splashing.
Ramsay raised the shot gun. He leveled it.
Unseen by the other boatmen, he lurked in the shadows and let them pass.
Ramsay was somewhat surprised to see them give a pound net a wide berth
and head into the bay. He followed, rowing his own boat silently while
he tried to discern the others' intentions. There were at least four,
and perhaps five, men in the other boat and they were going toward the
pier. Ramsay let them draw ahead, then circled around them and as fast
as he could without making any noise, he rowed straight toward the
beach. Grounding his boat, he stepped out. He was aware of the other
boat being drawn up cautiously.
He walked toward the nocturnal visitors until he was within a
half-dozen rods. He could see them now, clustered about the pier. Two
started for the barrels and the barreled fish. There was a faint
whispering. Ramsay waited to hear no more.
Had these people been well-intentioned, they would not be so secretive.
Plainly they were up to no good.
Ramsay pointed the shotgun toward the sky--he had no wish to kill
anyone--braced the stock against his shoulder, and pressed the trigger.
The gun belched its load of leaden pellets, and red flame flashed from
the muzzle. Ramsay shouted as loudly as he could. "Pieter! Hans!"
Dropping the shotgun on the sand beach, he rushed forward. The two men
who had started toward the barrels and barreled fish came running back.
Ramsay glared his anger.
Though he could not be positive because it was too dark to identify
anything or anyone positively, he thought that the man who stood just a
little to one side of the rest was Joe Mannis, the body-watcher. Ramsay
swerved toward him, sent his doubled fist into the other's stomach, and
heard a mighty '_whoosh_' as he knocked the wind out of his enemy. Up at
the house a door slammed.
Then a club or blackjack collided soddenly with the side of Ramsay's
head and set him reeling. He stumbled forward, feeling a little foolish
because all the strength had left him. Without being sure that he did
so, he sat down on the sand and blinked owlishly at the night visitors.
Dimly he was aware of the fact that they were launching their boat and
that he must stop them, but he did not know how to do so.
A nightgown flapping about his legs and a tasseled red cap on his head,
Hans Van Doorst appeared on the beach. A pair of trousers hastily
strapped about his own nightgown, Pieter followed. Both men looked
quietly at the retreating boat, which they might have followed and would
have followed had not Ramsay needed help. They lifted him to his feet.
"What happened?" Hans asked quietly.
"I ... They came while I was out on the lake, but they didn't bother
the nets. They rowed right into the pier, and I don't know what they
wanted."
"Did you recognize any of them?"
"I think Joe Mannis was one."
"Devil Chad?"
Ramsay said positively, "He was not among them. I would have recognized
him."
"Did you shoot at them?"
"No, I shot to attract you and Pieter."
"Well, that's all right, too. They won't be back tonight, or likely any
other night. Come on."
They helped Ramsay into the house, bathed his head and put him to bed.
He awoke to a mist-filled morning.
No breath of air stirred. Visibility was almost non-existent; the mist
was so heavy that it almost hid the lake. Ramsay, with all the
elasticity of youth, had recovered quickly from last night's incident
and he had a good appetite for the breakfast Marta had prepared.
Then Marta tossed her head defiantly. "All of you have been away," she
announced, "and you have done many things. I have been nowhere and I
have not done anything. But today I go to Three Points to shop."
"Sure," Pieter said. "I'll hitch the horse for you."
They cheered Marta on her way and went down to cast the seine. The pound
nets, having been visited within the past two days, would not again be
visited today. Aside from that, they had seined tons of whitefish and
sturgeon out of the bay in front of Pieter's house. Naturally the
catches were growing smaller. If they didn't take the seine too far out,
and set it shallow, three men could work the windlasses.
Then, just as they were ready to fish, and just about when Marta should
have reached Three Points, a man on a lathered horse came pounding down
the sand beach. He drew his tired mount up. "Quick!" he gasped. "An
accident! Marta is badly hurt!"