The Trawler

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C. Scribner's Sons, 1914 - 68 pages
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Page 51 - and a fair, fair wind' — Though you cried, as if to die Was all there was ahead of you, When we put out to sea; But now, sweetheart, we're headed home To the west'ard and to thee. So blow, ye devils, and walk her home — For she's the able Lucy Foster. The woman I love is waiting me, So drive the Lucy home to Gloucester. O ho ho for this heaven-sent breeze, Straight from the east and all you please! Come along now, ye whistling gales, The harder ye blow the faster she sails — O my soul, there's...
Page 61 - The full gale was on us now — a living gale; and before the gale Roding line: anchor rope. the sea ran higher than ever, and before the high seas the flying dory. Mountains of slate-blue water rolled down into valleys, and the valleys rolled up into mountains again, and all shifting so fast that no man might point a finger and say, "Here's one: there's one!
Page 6 - I remember how Hugh Glynn stepped within the door of John Snow's kitchen that night, and how he bent his head to step within; and, bending his head, took off his cap; and how he bowed to John Snow, Mrs. Snow, and Mary Snow in turn, and, facing John Snow, made as if to speak; but how his voice would not come, not until he had lifted his head yet higher and cleared his throat. And beginning again, he took a step nearer the middle of the floor, to where...
Page 8 - A living gale it was, a November no'wester — you know what that is, John Snow — but I'd all night been telling the crew to be careful, for a sea there was to sweep to eternity whoever it could 've caught loose around deck. I could 've hove her to and let her lay, but I was never one to heave to my vessel — not once I'd swung her off for home. And there, God help me, is maybe my weakness. "She was under her gaff tops'l, but I see she couldn't stand it. 'Boys,' says I, 'clew up that tops'l.
Page 10 - I made to meet it. A better vessel than the Arbiter the hand o' man never turned out — all Gloucester knows that — but, her best and my best, there was no lifting her out of it. Like great pipe-organs aroaring, this sea came, and over we went. Over we went, and I heard myself saying: 'God in heaven! You great old wagon, but are you gone at last?' And said it again when maybe there was a fathom of water over my head — her quarter was buried that deep and she that long coming up. Slow coming...
Page 14 - em I've known to find his grave under the green-white ocean, but never a smarter, never an abler fisherman than your boy Arthur. Boy and man I knew him, and, boy and man, he did his work. I thought you might like to hear that from me, John Snow. And not much more than that can I say now, except to add, maybe, that when the Lord calls, John Snow, we must go, all of us. The Lord called and Arthur went. He had a good life before him — if he'd lived. He'd 've had his own vessel soon — could 've had...
Page 67 - naught but peace before us. But lie down you, boy." "And you'll call me, skipper," I said, "when my watch comes?" "I'll call you when I've stood my full watch. Lie down now.
Page 34 - ... never a neighbor to hail us, nor a sound from any living thing whatever. The very gulls themselves were asleep; only the fores'l, swaying to a short sheet, would roll part way to wind'ard and back to loo'ard, but quiet as could be even then, except for the little tapping noises of the reef -points when in and out the belly of the canvas would puff full up and let down again to what little wind was stirring. It was a perfect, calm night, but no calm day was to follow. "Wicked weather ahead," said...
Page 9 - clew up that tops'l.' Which they did, and put it in gaskets, and your Arthur, I mind, was one of the four men to go aloft to clew it up. Never a lad to shirk was Arthur. Well, a stouter craft of her tonnage than the Arbiter may be never lived, nor no gear any sounder, but there are things o' God's that the things o' man were never meant to hold out against.

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