Dorymates: A Tale of the Fishing BanksMunroe, Kirk
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Dorymates: A Tale of the Fishing Banks
Munroe, Kirk
Newfoundland and Labrador -- Fiction
In spite of all this, he finally succeeded in giving them to understand
that he was the Health Officer of the port, and wished to see the
schooner’s papers. Being shown into the cabin, he carefully inspected
these, though he was evidently unable to make anything from them, except
that the vessel came from the United States.
In return, he handed the captain a long printed paper, of which nobody
on board could read a word, and gravely selected a single silver coin
from the handful that was offered him in payment of the port charges and
his services. He satisfied himself by looking at them, that the crew
were all in good-health; and learning that the schooner was in need of
water, accepted one more dollar as a water fee, and pointed out a place
on shore where they could take all they wanted. Then politely lifting
his cap, he stepped into his boat, and was pulled back to the town.
“Well, boys,” said the skipper, when this official had gone, “I suppose
it’s all right now, and we are free of the city, though I’m blamed if I
can make out who that chap was. He may have been the governor himself
for all I know. However, let’s get our water aboard, have a look at the
place, and get away again as soon as we can, for we’ll all have the
blues if we stay here many hours.”
When Captain Coffin and Breeze went on shore, soon afterwards, they
found the city to consist of about a hundred one-story houses, painted
black, and containing two or three rooms each, half a dozen stores in
two-storied buildings, a comfortable-looking governor’s residence, a
university, a forlorn-looking hotel, a stone church called the
cathedral, and a windmill. These were crowded together, without any
attempt at regularity, on a narrow strip of rocky land between the
harbor and a lagoon.
Drawn up on the beach, in front of a row of rickety old wooden
warehouses, were scores of fishing boats, and the whole place reeked
with the smell of fish, fresh, dried, and decaying. Everywhere were
nets, oars, and piles of fish. Brawny, hard-featured women trudged along
the ill-paved streets carrying great loads of fish on frames like
stretchers; while the men of the town lounged at the corners, with pipes
in their mouths, and watched them. A drove of ponies fastened in a line,
each to the tail of the one ahead of him, bore immense packs of
merchandise on their backs; and between the houses prowled lean,
villanous-looking dogs in search of something to eat or a chance to
fight.
Inside of an hour Breeze and the captain had seen all they wanted to see
of the city, and began to retrace their steps towards the landing. Just
before they reached it they heard a great noise of shouting and
laughter, and upon turning a corner they came upon a most comical sight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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