Chapter 6

‘Somebody’s going to get wet,’ rumbled Simon. ‘That old bucket must leak at every seam.’ He chuckled disdainfully, remembering the sign that Japheth had nailed on her prow when abandoning her: ‘To Sell or Rent,’ under which announcement some clown had scrawled, ‘Or Rot.’ He turned to Thad. ‘Who—do you suppose—has been fool enough to float her?’

‘Why—don’t you know, sir? I thought you must have heard. The Zebedee boys have leased her.’ Thad’s bright enthusiasm over the amazing project was quickly dimmed by the Big Fisherman’s surly scowl.

‘They’re fools!’ growled Simon. ‘That old vessel is not seaworthy. Even if she stays afloat, she’s unmanageable. First little puff of wind—over she goes.’

‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Thad obediently. ‘But Johnny is pretty good with the sticks. He’ll ride out a gale if anyone can!’

‘How much of a crew have they—or do you know?’ queried Simon. ‘I suppose they have their old man with them.’

‘No, sir; they picked up three or four boys in Capernaum, but they didn’t want to take Zebedee away from us.’ Thad risked a tongue-in-cheek grin, but Simon, not being in a jocular mood, only frowned bitterly and spat in the water as he swung about and returned to his seat on The Abigail. Thad, bored and unhappy, tagged along.

‘You may go now, my boy,’ said Simon. ‘I’ll stand watch.’

‘But how about tonight, sir?’

‘I expect to remain here.’

‘I don’t like to leave you alone, sir.’

Simon made no reply to that, and Thad lingered until the master called out impatiently, ‘Go! Do as I tell you! I prefer to be alone!’

Crestfallen, the dismayed youngster slipped quietly away under this unearned rebuff and dropped into one of the rocking dories. When he was safely gone, Simon—sick and wretched in body and spirit—plodded feebly forward to the little cabin, eased himself down on the bare bunk that nobody before had ever had occasion to use, and reeled dizzily off into a troubled sleep.