Blow The Man Down: A Romance Of The CoastDay, Holman
General
Blow The Man Down: A Romance Of The Coast
Day, Holman
Love stories; Ship captains -- Fiction; Yachts -- Fiction
“And another thing,” went on the spokesman. “We 'ain't had much time to
talk this over; we rushed aft here as soon as we heard and had cleaned
out our pockets. But we've said enough to each other so that we can
tell you that all of us will turn to on that wreck with you and work for
nothing till--till--well, whatever happens. Don't want wages! Don't need
promises! And if she sinks, we'll sing a song and go back to fishing
again.”
The man at the wheel let go the spokes and came forward and deposited
a handful of money beside the rest. “There's mine. I wisht it was a
million; it would go just as free.”
“Boys, I'd make a speech to you--but my throat is too full,” choked
Mayo. “I know better, now, why something called me over to Hue and
Cry last summer. Hard over with that wheel! Jockey her down toward the
wreck!”
When they were within hailing distance of the lighter Mayo raised his
megaphone. “Will you take fifteen hundred dollars--cash--now--for that
wreck, as you leave her when you've loaded those lighters?” he shouted.
There was a long period of silence. Then the man in the fur coat
replied, through his hollowed hands: “Yes--and blast the fools in Boston
who are making me sell!”
XXVII ~ THE TEMPEST TURNS ITS CARD
And one thing which we have to crave,
Is that he may have a watery grave.
So well heave him down into some dark hole,
Where the sharks 'll have his body and the devil have his soul.
With a big bow wow!
Tow row row!
Pal de, rai de, ri do day!
--Boston.
After the man in the fur coat had placed a hastily executed bill of sale
in Mayo's hands, he frankly declared that his interest in the fortune of
the wrecked steamer had ceased.
“The Resolute reports that storm signals are displayed. I'll simply make
sure of what I've got. I'll play the game as those quitters in Boston
seem to want me to play it.”
The tugs, departing with their tows, squalled salutes to the little
schooner hove to under the counter of the _Conomo_.
“Sounds like they was making fun of us,” growled Candage. He scowled
into the gray skies and across the lonely sea.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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