"Never touched me! I'm no servant."

"What will you do, then?" inquired Jim, pointedly.

"Just what I please, and not a thing besides," replied Percy, with equal directness.

The others exchanged looks, but Jim said no more.

The greater part of the afternoon was devoted to setting the lobster-traps. They were loaded on the sloop, dory, and pea-pod, taken out, and dropped overboard around the island, brown bottles, of which there was a generous supply in the shed, being fastened to the warps for "toggles," to hold them off the bottom, so that they might not catch on the rocks. By five all the traps were set.

"You and Throppy can pull these to-morrow morning, Budge," said Jim, and he gave them brief directions. "I'll make a trip with you myself the next day. But to-morrow Whittington and I are going to see what we can get on the trawl."

After an early supper they climbed the eastern point. The sheep, which were feeding on its top, scampered off at their approach, their retreat covered by the ram, with shaking head. Nemo rushed, barking, after the flock, only to be b.u.t.ted ignominiously head over heels and to retreat, yelping, to the beach.

"Bully for Aries!" laughed Throppy.

"Who's Aries?" asked Percy.

"The ram, of course! Where's your Latin?"

"Never heard the word. Where do these sheep drink, anyway? Out of the spring?"

"No," replied Jim. "The dew on the gra.s.s gives them all the moisture they need."

Sandpeeps were teetering along the ledges below. Two seals bobbed their round, black heads in the surf at the promontory's foot. A mile to the south rose the spout of a whale.

"Many craft go by here?" inquired Budge.

"Plenty. Fishing-schooners, tugs with their tows, yachts, tramp steamers, sailing-vessels from the Bay of Fundy for Boston, and every little while a smack or power-boat. The ocean liners to Portland pa.s.s about fifteen miles south. So we oughtn't to be lonesome."

On the highest part of the point Throppy found a dead spruce about twenty feet tall, which he picked as a mast for his wireless. Its top would be at least sixty feet above the cabin, so he could talk over twenty-five miles. He had brought with him four hundred feet of copper bell-wire and a dozen or so cleat insulators. He cut two spruce spreaders, and strung his antennae. Then he made a hole through the cabin wall, improvised an insulator out of a broken bottle, and a rough table out of a spare box, and was ready to install his batteries and instruments as soon as they should arrive.

The boys returned to the cabin.

"How about those conditions, Whittington?" asked Budge. "Going to begin making 'em up?"

"No hurry about that," responded Percy, indifferently.

He went outside to smoke a cigarette. The bull-frogs were singing in the marsh. Inside, Roger was making a start on teaching Filippo English, and learning a little Italian in return. Throppy was tuning his violin.

He played a short selection, and then the boys turned in.

"To-morrow we start fishing in dead earnest," said Jim. "Whittington and I'll get up at midnight, and Filippo'll have to give us breakfast. You other fellows won't need to turn out till four. Here's hoping for good luck all round!"

Percy made a wry face. The hour for rising did not sound good to him, but there was no harm in trying it once. After that he would see. Soon all were sound asleep, lulled by the murmur of the surf.

VI

TRAWLING FOR HAKE

"Turn out, Whittington! All aboard for the fishing-grounds!"

Spurling's voice, reinforcing the last echoes of the alarm-clock, dispelled Percy's inclination to roll over for another nap. Jim's strong tones carried a suggestion of authority which the younger lad was half minded to resent. He swallowed his pride, however, rolled out, and dressed. It was only a half-hour after midnight when he sat down with Jim to a breakfast of warmed-over beans, corn-bread, and coffee, prepared by Filippo. Budge and Throppy were sleeping soundly. They would not get up until three hours later. Percy envied them, but he ate a good meal.

"Now," directed Jim, "pull on those rubber boots and get into your oil-clothes. You'll see before long why they're useful. Trawling's a cold, wet, dirty business, and you want to be well prepared for it. And don't forget those nippers! They'll protect your hands from the chafe of the line."

Taking buoys, anchors, and other gear from the fish-house, they got into the dory and rowed out to the _Barracouta_. The six tubs of trawl, baited two afternoons before, were already on board. They stowed everything in its place, then headed out of the cove, towing the dory.

It was a clear, cool night. A light wind was blowing from the north, but the sea was fairly smooth.

"Guess we'll run down to Clay Bank," said Spurling. "It's only six miles to the southward. We ought to get a good set there."

Steadily they plowed on. It was Percy's first experience in a small boat on the midnight ocean, and he felt something akin to awe as they breasted the long swells, heaving in slowly and gently, yet resistlessly. Down to the horizon all around arched the deep blue firmament, spangled with stars. Matinicus Rock glittered in the west, while just beyond the shoulder of Brimstone Point, Saddleback Light, almost level with the sea, kept vanishing and reappearing.

As the _Barracouta_ forged forward her prow started two diverging lines of phosph.o.r.escent bubbles and her wake resembled a trail of boiling flame. Percy called Jim's attention to the display.

"Yes," remarked the latter, "the water's firing in good shape to-night."

There was a sudden splash to starboard. A gleaming body several feet long rolled up above the surface; a grunting sigh broke the silence; and the apparition disappeared.

"What's that?" demanded the startled Percy.

"Porpoise! 'Puffing pig.'"

For over an hour Jim held the sloop to an exact course by means of his compa.s.s. At half past two he stopped the engine.

"Well, I guess we're here!"

"We're here, fast enough!" a.s.sented Percy, staring about. "But where's here? Doesn't look any different to me from anywhere else."

"Clay Bank."

With his sounding-lead Jim tried the depth of the water.

"Thought so! Fifty fathoms!"

He prepared at once to set the trawl. Dropping the outer jib and mainsail, he jogged slowly before the wind under the jumbo, or inner jib.

"Now let her go!"

Over splashed the buoy, an empty pickle-keg, painted red, and drifted astern. Next, down went the light anchor. As soon as it reached bottom Jim lifted the first tub of trawl to the wash-board. Then with the heaving-stick, eighteen inches long and whittled to a point, he began to flirt overboard the coils lying in the tub.

Percy, holding the lantern, watched the steady stream of gangings and herring-baited hooks follow one another over the side and sink astern.

In a surprisingly short time the tub was empty, and the five hundred fathoms of trawl, with more than a hook to a fathom, lay in a long, straight line on the muddy bottom, three hundred feet below.

A second tub trailed after the first, its trawl being attached to the end of the other. The four remaining tubs followed in order. At the junction of the second and third a buoy was fastened, and another between the fourth and fifth. To the end of the trawl from the sixth and last tub was tied another anchor, and as soon as it had reached bottom the last buoy was cast over. They had set almost three and a half miles of trawl, bearing more than thirty-one hundred short, baited lines.