PAUL COOKS HIS OWN BREAKFAST, AND GOES A-FISHING.
About six miles east of Bayville was a rocky island, around which perch
were abundant. Paul had often been there with his father, and was
familiar with the locality. He knew just where to moor his boat to have
good luck in fishing; and was acquainted with all the channels,
currents, and bars in the bay. He was not only a skilful seaman, but a
good pilot, and felt as much at home on the bay as in the streets of
Bayville.
It would be low tide in the bay at seven o'clock, and Paul made his
calculations accordingly. The best time to fish was on the "young
flood," or soon after the tide had turned to come in; and, if the wind
should happen to be light or contrary, it would take him a long time to
run down to Rock Island, as the place was called; therefore he must go
down with the tide. To accomplish his purpose it was necessary that he
should start by five o'clock in the morning, which was an hour before
his usual breakfast time.
He did not sleep very well that night, for the great idea to which we
have alluded was creating an immense commotion in his mind. He had
reasoned out the certainty of his being able to support the family, and
he felt as proud of his great resolution as though he had achieved its
full fruits. When, at last, he dropped asleep, it was only to dream of
great speculations, and of the satisfaction he should have in giving his
mother money enough on Saturday night to pay all the expenses of the
family for a week.
He woke very early in the morning, and as he jumped out of bed he heard
the clock on the Town Hall strike four. He did not mean to disturb his
mother, and therefore cautioned John not to make any noise. He was not
like some boys, who growl and grumble at their mothers if their meals
are not ready when they want them. Stealing softly down stairs, he went
to the back kitchen, and made a fire in the stove.
"Now, John, you go down to the boat, and bale her out," said he to his
brother, as the latter joined him.
"Are you going without any breakfast?" asked John.
"No; breakfast will be ready by the time you have baled out the boat."
"You haven't called mother yet?"
"I don't mean to do so."
"Where will you get your breakfast, then?"
"I will get it myself."
"You don't know how to cook," replied John, incredulously.
"You see if I don't; now go ahead, and don't make a noise, or you will
wake mother."
Paul then went down cellar, and brought up a few potatoes, which he
washed and put into the kettle. A piece of pork and a slice of veal were
deposited in the frying pan, ready to be cooked at the proper time. The
coffee, not omitting the important bit of fish skin, was put in the
coffee-pot, and operations in that quarter were suspended till the water
in the tea-kettle should boil. Though our hero had never actually
performed these manoeuvres with his own hands, he had seen them
executed so many times that he was perfectly familiar with the routine.
Everything upon the stove was doing very well, and he pulled out the
table, which he proceeded to cover with the proper articles for the
morning meal. Each article was carefully disposed in its proper place,
for Paul had already learned that food tastes better in the midst of
order and neatness, than when taken in dirt and confusion. It is true,
he made some mistakes for the want of experience, and was frequently
obliged to stop and think what articles were required; but when the
table was set, he was satisfied with its cheerful and neat appearance.
By this time the tea-kettle was spouting out long jets of steam, and the
lid was rattling under the influence of the commotion beneath it. Paul
poured a little of the boiling water into the coffee-pot, and then came
an appalling difficulty--he did not know how much to put in, and was not
sure that he had taken the proper quantity of coffee. At a venture he
filled the pot half full, and then proceeded to cook the meat. After the
coffee had boiled ten or fifteen minutes, he tested its strength, and
added more water. He was delighted with his success, and when John
returned from the beach, he was putting the breakfast upon the table.
"Breakfast is ready," said Paul.
"Did you cook it, though?"
"I did; I told you I could."
"I'll give up now. Why don't you hire out for a cook?"
"Perhaps I shall, one of these days."
"Wouldn't mother's eyes stick out if she should happen in about this
time!"
"I guess not much."
But they did, for just as the boys were seating themselves at the table,
Mrs. Duncan entered the room.
"Why, boys! what have you been doing?" exclaimed she, astonished at the
regularity with which everything seemed to be proceeding in her absence.
"Only getting something to eat before we go," replied Paul.
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I thought I wouldn't get you up so early; besides, I could get
breakfast just as well myself."
"I declare you are a good cook, Paul. Your potatoes and meat look as
nice as can be. How is your coffee? Did you put a piece of fish-skin in
the pot?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Did you put any salt on the meat?"
"I did; come, mother, sit down and eat your breakfast."
Mrs. Duncan accepted this polite invitation, and seating herself in her
accustomed place, began to pour out the coffee. It was clear, and of the
right strength, and she liberally praised Paul for his culinary skill,
and declared that her son was a jewel about the house. The breakfast
seemed even better than usual that morning, and our hero was as proud as
though he had built a meeting house.
"Come, John, we must bear a hand; there isn't a breath of wind, and it
will take us some time to make Rock Island," said Paul, as he rose from
the table. "Have you filled the jug with water?"
"No, but I will."
"Here is some gingerbread and cheese for luncheon," added Mrs. Duncan,
as she handed Paul a basket she had filled for their use. "Now, be very
careful, and don't run any risk. Look out for squalls, and don't carry
sail too long."
"I'll be very careful, mother. You may trust me to go round the world,"
replied Paul.
"But I wish you had a better boat."
"She'll do very well, mother, though I hope to have a better one some
time or other."
The jug was filled at the pump, and with their provisions and water the
boys set off with light hearts for the work of the day.
Paul felt the responsibility of the trust which Captain Littleton had
imposed upon him. He was going to make some money by the operation, and
upon this day's success depended the hopes which he had been cherishing
in regard to his new scheme.
There are always some drawbacks to disturb the best-laid plans, and when
Paul reached the bluff, he discovered the boat adrift at some distance
from the shore.
"You are a careless fellow, John," he cried. "You didn't make fast the
boat."
"That's too bad, Paul; I didn't mean to do that," replied John, vexed at
the accident.
"I don't suppose you did; but you are careless."
"I thought I made her fast. What shall we do, Paul? I would rather given
anything than had this happen."
"So would I; but there is no use of crying about it. There isn't a skiff
within half a mile of here."
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Paul," said John, putting down the jug and
throwing off his jacket. "I'll swim out to her and scull her in."
Paul made no objection to this plan, and in half a minute more, John
had stripped and was swimming with all his might after the boat, which
was perhaps fifty rods from the shore. He was a vigorous swimmer, as
self-possessed in the water as on the land, and his brother had no fears
in regard to his safety, or his ability to reach the boat.
It did not take the little fellow long to catch the boat, and the
accident did not make more than half an hour's delay. The stores were
taken on board, and before John had time to dress himself, the boat was
under sail, and working slowly down the bay. A light breeze from the
west had sprung up, and a gentle ripple at the bow assured the young
fisherman that everything was progressing in a satisfactory manner.
"I should like to be a fisherman, Paul," said John, who sat on the
bottom of the boat opening clams for bait.
"Perhaps you may be one of these days," replied Paul, moodily. "I think
I shall do something in that line right off."
"You, Paul?"
"Yes, but don't you say a word about it to anybody, above all, not to
mother. I have been thinking about it all night."
"What do you mean, Paul?"
The ambitious youth had a great idea in his mind, which was struggling
to be actualized. More than twenty times since the preceding evening had
the words of Captain Littleton crossed his imagination, and kindled up
a great blaze of possibilities and probabilities. "I will give you
twenty cents a dozen for them," the captain had said. If he would buy
perch others would buy them. He had a boat, and there would not be many
days when he could not catch as many as five or six dozen. Even at a
shilling a dozen he could make a dollar a day.
This was his scheme--to supply Bayville with fresh fish. He had as good
a chance to sell them as the men who went through the place blowing
their tin horns. He should have an advantage over them, for his fish
were certain to be fresh, and he was sure the people would be willing to
patronize him. The plan promised exceedingly well, and he wished to talk
it over with some one, though he was not quite ready to have it made
public. It was true, John was only ten years old, and didn't know much;
but he wanted to talk with somebody about it, and so he concluded to
take his brother into his confidence.
"What do I mean, John?" said he. "Why can't I catch perch every day, and
sell them in town?"
"Sure enough, why can't you?" replied John, delighted with the idea, and
perhaps bringing some selfish motives to bear upon it.
"We can haul 'em in as fast as we can throw over the line off the rocks,
and there are rich folks enough in Bayville to buy them."
"It's a first-rate idea," exclaimed John, with enthusiasm. "You might
go down farther, and catch cod and haddock."
"I would if I had a good boat."
"Father used to go out after cod and haddock in this boat."
"I know, but she is getting rather shaky."
The great idea was discussed in all its bearings till they reached Rock
Island, when Paul carefully selected his position, and let go the
anchor. The hooks were baited and the lines thrown over, and never
before had Paul taken his fishing apparatus when so much seemed to
depend upon the success of his efforts. His heart beat as the sinker
touched the bottom, and he pulled it up the proper distance. All his
fortunes for the future appeared to hang upon the result.
"Hurrah! I've got one!" shouted John, as with childish eagerness he
pulled in his line.
It was a sculpin!
Was this a type of his own success? Was he to watch his chance on the
great sea of life, and finally, after all his anxious watching and toil,
was he to pull in only a sculpin? These were painful thoughts to Paul,
and his heart almost sunk within him, as he considered the possible
failure of his favorite scheme. If he failed in this, he must accept the
paltry two dollars and a half a week, and let his mother drudge like a
slave. He could not tolerate the thought of failure, and----
A bite!
Paul did not whistle till he got out of the woods, and announced his
success to John by slapping a monster perch upon the bottom of the boat.
If that was a type of his success he was satisfied. Before he had time
to follow out the reflections suggested by the event, John hauled in the
mate to the big fish, and another had taken hold of his own hook.
By ten o'clock there were six dozen perch in the basket, besides three
handsome tautog and half a dozen sea flounders. The young fisherman was
satisfied, hauled up killock, and made sail for home. His heart was as
light as the upper air, and he was confident of the success of his grand
scheme.