“The divil she will.” They put the dory over. Coleman and Jerry got in it, rowed alongside, and climbed up the sea-ladder. Half-way up the Skipper looked back--there was a good bit of water in the dory. “Jerry, you’ll have to go down again and bail her out.” Which Jerry did, while the Skipper kept on to the steamer’s deck to negotiate. “And what can I help you to?” “Well, we’ll need a little coal.” “All right. How much?” “Oh, maybe half or three-quarters of a ton.” “Three-quarters of a ton? And where’ll you carry It?” “In the dory.” “In this sea?” “I’ve carried twenty-five hundred of fish in a dory in more sea than this.” “All right--in it goes. What else?” “Oh, some wood.” “Wood all gone, too?” “We burned the last of our bunk-boards this morning.” “Gracious! How much wood?” “Oh, two or three barrels.” “All right. But won’t it overbalance your dory?” “L’ave that to me. And have you some vegetables, say a barrel of potatoes----” “Sure. And where’ll you put _them_?” “In the dory. And a barrel of odds and ends--turnips and cabbage and----” “And that in the dory, too?” “In the dory--where else? And a tub of butter, and a case or two of canned beef, and a bit of fresh beef, and some coffee and tea, and a box of hard bread----” “And all in the----” “In the dory, yes.” “All right. Stand by and over they go.” And the Skipper and Jerry stood by and took them as they came down and piled them all in the dory, to the wonder of all who saw. “And send the bill to the man I told you--he’s the owner. And ’twould be servin’ him no more than right if you charged him good and high, for a man that would ask men to go to sea in a circus vessel like this--sure he deserves no better.” As they were about to push off, the steamer captain lowered down another case. “Of bouillon,” he said, “for yourself, Captain--for the nerve of you. And here’s for the boys to have a drink,” and tossed down a quart of whiskey. “Thank ye kindly,” said Coleman, and he and Jerry pulled off. From the steamer they watched them anxiously, expecting to see them swamped and lost. But not so. There is an art in managing a loaded dory in a heavy sea. Their shipmates greeted them affectionately. “And I’ll begin with the bully soup, Skipper,” said the cook. “’Twill be the quickest made.” And the cook did that, putting the twenty-four quarts into one immense boiler, and they finished it in the first rush. Then the Skipper drew the cork out of the bottle of whiskey. “A nice man, that steamer captain,” said Coleman, “but not much judgment. ‘Tell the boys to have a drink on me,’ he says, and that same was good of him. But one quart among twenty-two men! Oh, Lord!” “Lord forgive him,” said Jerry, “’tisn’t enough for an aggravation.”