"Any one of you may be called on to handle this boat alone some time in the next three months, and you can't begin learning how any too early."

Percy's experience with automobiles stood him in good stead. He was naturally interested in machinery, and soon mastered the details of the _Barracouta's_ engine. The others also showed themselves apt pupils.

At half past seven the high cliffs of Seal Island lay to the north.

Pa.s.sing for a mile along its rocky sh.o.r.es, they kept on toward Matinicus, now rising into view. Jim pointed to a breaker a little south of their course.

"Malcolm's Ledges! A bad bunch of rocks. Years ago a fishing-schooner struck there in the night. Crew thought at first they'd reached safety, but they soon found it was only a half-tide ledge. The vessel heaved over it when the water rose, and sunk, so that only her topmast stuck out. One man, the sole survivor, hung to that. He was taken off in the morning, but his arm was worn almost to the bone by the swaying of the mast."

Farther on they pa.s.sed the long, treeless, granite hump of Wooden Ball, with its few lobstering-shacks, and sheep grazing in its gra.s.sy valleys.

Ledge after ledge went by, until at last they entered the little rocky haven of Matinicus, crammed with moored sloops and power-boats, and ran in beside the high, granite fish-pier at its head.

Percy found everything new and strange--the stilted wharves on the ledges, heaped with lobster-traps and festooned with buoys of all shapes and colors; the fish-pier with its open shed, sheltering the dark, discolored hogsheads rounded up with salted fish; the men in oilskin "petticoats," busy with splitting-knives on hake and cod and pollock and haddock, brought in by the noisy power-boats; the lighthouse-keepers from Matinicus Rock, five miles south, in military caps, oilskins, and red rubber boots, towing a dory to be dumped full of slimy hake heads for lobster bait; the post-office and general store above the cove, and the spruce-crowned rocks beyond it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE CAMP AT SPROWL'S COVE]

Jim pointed out a bronze tablet on a slanting ledge.

"In memory of Ebenezer Hall, first English settler on Matinicus. He lived with his family in a log house at the head of this cove. In 1757 some Indians were camped on one of the Green Islands, six miles or so northwest, living on the eggs of seabirds. Hall went over to the island one day and set fire to the gra.s.s, destroying the nests and eggs. Next morning five Indians in two canoes came over to Matinicus to take revenge. They landed on this beach, built a fire, and began cooking their breakfast. Hall had barricaded himself indoors, but he could put his head up through a little lookout in the top of his cabin. He wanted to shoot the Indians, but his wife wouldn't let him. After they had eaten they scattered and opened fire on the house from different points.

Hall replied. Finally the Indians were reduced to their last half-bullet. One of them lay flat in that little hollow, while the others pretended to launch their canoes. Hall stuck his head up through the lookout to see what was going on, and the ambushed Indian sent the half-bullet through his brain. He dropped back inside. They wouldn't have known he was. .h.i.t if his wife hadn't cried out for quarter. They burst open the door and carried her off, with her daughter and one son.

Another boy escaped out of a back window and hid in the swamp, and they couldn't find him. Afterward he settled on an island close to Vinalhaven, where Heron's Neck Light is now."

"Hall had better not have burned that gra.s.s," said Percy.

"Yes," replied Jim. "If he had minded his own business and let the Indians alone he wouldn't have stopped that last half-bullet."

The fish-pier was in charge of a superintendent, employed by a large Gloucester concern. Jim arranged to sell here whatever fish they might catch during the summer. He also bought several bushels of salt, as well as two barrels of hake heads to start them in lobstering. The _Barracouta's_ tank was filled with twenty-five gallons of gasolene, and six five-gallon cans were purchased besides. The boat would require about seven gallons a day for ordinary fishing, so this would supply them for more than a week.

"How often do you get the mail?" asked Jim of the storekeeper, who was also postmaster.

"Three times a week by steamer from Rockland--Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays."

As Spurling had decided to bring his fish over every Friday, they would thus be enabled to keep in fairly close touch with the outside world.

Percy, however, was somewhat disgusted. He had gotten into the habit of thinking he could not live without a daily paper. While the others were purchasing various supplies, including some mosquito netting, he replenished his stock of cigarettes.

"Anybody here got a wireless?" inquired Throppy.

"No, but there's one on Criehaven, three miles south."

Throppy had planned to install an outfit on Tarpaulin, and had already written home to have his plant there dismantled by his brother, and its parts forwarded by express to Matinicus. For an amateur he was an expert operator.

The _Barracouta_ was already well loaded when, with the dory towing behind, she rounded the granite breakwater and started for Vinalhaven, twelve miles away. At noon they ran in alongside Hardy's weir on the eastern sh.o.r.e of the island. Several bushels of glittering herring were dipped aboard, and the heavily freighted sloop at once swung away on her fifteen-mile jaunt to Tarpaulin.

"Now," said Jim, as soon as they were well clear of the island, "I'll teach you how to bait up. Take the tiller, Filippo."

Emptying out the ground-line from one of the tubs, he took a small herring in his left hand, and with his right grasped the shank of the hook on the first ganging; he forced the sharp point into the fish until the barb had gone clean through and the herring was impaled firmly. Then he dropped the hook into the empty tub, giving the ganging a deft swing, so that it fell in a smooth coil. He repeated the process swiftly, while the others watched him with interest.

"How many hooks can you bait in a minute?" asked Budge.

"Time me."

Budge followed the second-hand of his watch while the coil in the tub grew larger.

"Better than ten a minute," he announced. "That's going some."

"It's slow to what some fishermen can do. It means about an hour to a tub. Catch hold, you fellows, and see how fast you can do it. Might as well make a beginning. You'll have plenty of experience before the summer's ended. I'll take her awhile, Filippo."

The other boys, Percy included, were soon hard at work, each on his own tub. At first they made a slow, awkward business of it. Impatient exclamations rose as the sharp hooks were stuck into clumsy fingers.

Finally Percy threw down his trawl in a fit of anger.

"I've had enough of this! I didn't come out here to butcher myself."

"You can steer," said Jim, quietly. "I'll take your place."

Percy stepped to the helm, and Jim began baiting again. The others stuck to their unfamiliar task, despite its discouragements, and were soon making fair headway. Percy eyed them sulkily. His p.r.i.c.ked fingers smarted. The boat rolled and pitched on the old swell, making him a trifle seasick. A wave of disgust swept over him. This was no place for the son of a millionaire. He wished himself back on the land.

By the time they reached Tarpaulin, at about half past four, all the six trawls were baited.

"We won't set them till day after to-morrow," determined Jim. "Guess we can find enough work to keep us busy ash.o.r.e till then."

There was no doubt about that. Until supper-time various odd jobs kept everybody occupied. Most important of all, the mosquito netting was cut and tacked over the three windows.

"Now we can have plenty of fresh air with the mosquitoes strained out of it," said Jim.

Boughs of spruce and fir were brought from the woods and strewn in the bunks under the blankets. That night the boys turned in early and slept like the dead. Even Percy could find little fault with his pillow and mattress of fragrant needles.

In the morning he took a swim. The water was too cold for comfort, and inadvertently he ran into a school of jellyfish, from which he emerged feeling as if he were on fire all over. He dressed hurriedly, shivering and disgruntled. The novelty of Tarpaulin was wearing off, and he hoped heartily that he would soon be in a more interesting place. A month there would drag horribly.

That forenoon the inside of the cabin was put to rights. The spring was cleaned out and stoned up. Under Jim's direction the boys gathered a heap of driftwood and dragged it up to the highest part of Brimstone Point. There a beacon was built, and kindling placed beneath it.

"That'll serve as a lighthouse in case any of us get caught out at night and lose our way," said Jim.

The remainder of the morning was spent in fitting up the lobster-traps with warps, toggles, and buoys.

During dinner the summer's work was discussed and the boys were allotted their respective duties. To Jim fell naturally the oversight of the fishing and lobstering. Lane was to receive and disburse all moneys, and have general charge of the business matters of the concern. Throppy, because of his mechanical and inventive turn of mind, was intrusted with the duty of seeing that the cabin, the boats, and all the gear were kept in first-cla.s.s shape.

"Now," concluded Jim, "so far the most important position of all has gone begging. Who'll be cook? Whittington, it lies between you and Filippo."

"You can strike my name from the ballot at the go-off," stated Percy, promptly. "I never even boiled an egg in my life, and I don't intend to begin now."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"That narrows it down to Filippo," said Jim. "What do you say? Will you cook for us?"

The Italian's melancholy olive face lighted up with pleasure.

"_Si, si!_" he exclaimed, gladly. "I will cook."

"Good enough! You're elected, then! We'll all tell you everything we know. Here's an old cook-book on the shelf, and well teach you the recipes. That leaves Whittington for general-utility man. He'll be our hewer of wood and drawer of water, to say nothing of washing the dishes.

We'll all feel free to call on him whenever any of us gets into a tight place. How does that hit you, Whittington?"