"Say," he observed, "that thing looks like the critter we see last week at Hampton Roads. We was in there ketchin' crabs...." "I was there, too," said Applebo. "I sneaked back up here inside in that easter." The men looked at him with interest. The captain--a lean, lanky citizen of the State of Maine--shifted his tobacco. He was politely dressed in a nautical costume befitting his rank and consisting of a derby hat with a dint in the left side, a rather tired-looking "biled shirt," a black vest ... for he wore no coat despite the drizzle ... a heavy gold-plated watch-chain, black trousers, and patent-leather shoes, whereof the "patent" was putting up a losing fight against the salt water. This costume would have identified him anywhere along the coast as the captain of something; at first guess, a coasting schooner. The men called him "Dave," despite the fact that he was captain and old enough to have fathered any of them. "That boat o' yourn looks like a sword-fisher," said he. "She was built for that," said Applebo. "She won't never drowned ye. Might starve ye, though." "She won't do that either," said Applebo. "You will find a lot of yachts that are duller than that yawl of mine." "I know one that's duller," said the skipper, "'n that's the old _Shark_. We come in abaout daylight this mornin'. It was blowin' toll'ble fresh. M'yeah ... not so peart as what it is now, but there was wind a-plenty. Jibin' raound the Stellwagen Bank we nigh pitched onto that 'ere old wagon...." "The _Shark_?" cried Applebo. "It was her. They wa'ant much light, but I seen that behind o' hern wallowin' off into the muck. There ain't no mistakin' that critter! She's been bangin' 'round this coast most as long as what I hev ... 'n' that's consid'able time." One of the crew, an Irishman, spoke up. "'Twas the _Shark_," said he. "She was waddlin' out around the Cape like an ould duck. Phwat she was doin' in shwill like this I dunno!" "We wa'ant lookin' fer nothin' goin' that way," said the captain. "Mercy o' hell we didn't spile her paint! Tearin' chunks off'n the sea, we was!" "Funny that the _Shark_ should have been out there," said Applebo. "I left her in Marblehead yesterday noon." "'Twas her," said the Irishman. "There's no mistakin' the nose-pole av her. 'Tis like a pug-nosed girl wid a slate-pencil in her mout'. She was flounderin' to sea like a cow in a bog ... just as graceful, sor. There was a big man wid whuskers a-shtandin' be the wheel. I knaw him. 'Tis ould Heldstrom." "Who's the owner o' the _Shark_?" asked one of the men. "'Tis a navy man ... wan Bell...."