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Authors: Max Brand, Frederick Faust
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which it extracts some of the salt from the sea water while taking its food. Look here!”
He held up a shell and indicated a blue-green spot on the inside.
“You see that color? That’s what gives these clams their name and this is also the place where the salt deposit forms. This clam has a high percentage of salt—more than any other.”
Harrigan, sending a bitter side glance at McTee, rose to bring some more wood, for it was imperative that they should keep the fire burning always.
“I’m so glad,” said Kate, “that we have both the eggs and the clams to rely on. At least they will keep us from starving in this terrible place.”
“H’m. I’m not so sure about the eggs.”
He eyed them with a watering mouth, for his raging hunger had not been in the least appeased by the shellfish.
“But I’ll try one just to keep you company.”
He peeled away the shell and swallowed the egg hastily, lest Harrigan, returning, should see that he had changed his mind.
“Maybe the eggs are all right,” he admitted as soon as he could speak, and he picked up another, “but between you and me, I’ll confess that I shall not pay much attention to what Harrigan has to say. He’s never been to sea before. You can’t expect a landlubber to understand all the conditions of a life like this.”
But a new thought which was gradually forming in her brain made Kate reserve judgment. Harrigan came back and placed a few more sticks of wood on the fire.
“I can’t understand,” said Kate, “how you could make a fire without a sign of a match.”
“That’s simple,” said McTee easily. “When a man has traveled about as much as I have, he has to pick up all sorts of unusual ways of doing things. The way we made that fire was to—”
“The way we made it?” interjected Harrigan with bitter emphasis.
Kate frowned as she glanced from one to the other. There was the same deep hostility in their eyes which she had noticed when they faced each other in the captain’s cabin aboard the Mary Rogers .
“An’ why were ye sittin’ prayin’ for fire with the gir-rl thremblin’ and freezin’ to death in yer ar-rms if ye knew so well how to be makin’ one?”
“Hush—Dan,” said Kate; for the fire of anger blew high.
McTee started.
“You know each other pretty well, eh?”
“Tut, tut!” said Harrigan airily. “You can’t expect a slip of a girl to be calling a black man like you by the front name?”
McTee moistened his white lips. He rose.
“I’m going for a walk—I always do after eating.”
And he strode off down the beach. Harrigan instantly secured a handful of the shellfish.
“Speakin’ of salt,” he said apologetically, “I’ll have to try a couple of these to be sure that the captain’s right. I can tell by a taste or two.”
He pried open one of the shells and ate the contents hastily, keeping one eye askance against the return of McTee.
“Maybe he’s right about these shellfish,” he pronounced judicially, “but it’s a hard thing an’ a dangerous thing to take the word of a man like McTee—he’s that hasty. We must go easy on believin’ what he says, Kate.”
CHAPTER 12
Then understanding flooded Kate’s mind like waves of light in a dark room. She tilted back her head and laughed, laughed heartily, laughed till the tears brimmed her eyes. The gloomy scowl of Harrigan stopped her at last. As her mirth died out, the tall form of McTee appeared suddenly before them with his arms crossed. Where they touched his breast, the muscles spread out to a giant size. He was turned toward her, but the gleam of his eye fell full upon Harrigan.
“I suppose,” said McTee, and his teeth clicked after each word like the bolt of a rifle shot home, “I suppose that you were laughing at me?”
The Irishman rose and faced the Scotchman, his head thrust forward and a devil in his eyes.
“An’ what if we were, Misther McTee?” he purred. “An’ what if we wer-r-re, I’m
He held up a shell and indicated a blue-green spot on the inside.
“You see that color? That’s what gives these clams their name and this is also the place where the salt deposit forms. This clam has a high percentage of salt—more than any other.”
Harrigan, sending a bitter side glance at McTee, rose to bring some more wood, for it was imperative that they should keep the fire burning always.
“I’m so glad,” said Kate, “that we have both the eggs and the clams to rely on. At least they will keep us from starving in this terrible place.”
“H’m. I’m not so sure about the eggs.”
He eyed them with a watering mouth, for his raging hunger had not been in the least appeased by the shellfish.
“But I’ll try one just to keep you company.”
He peeled away the shell and swallowed the egg hastily, lest Harrigan, returning, should see that he had changed his mind.
“Maybe the eggs are all right,” he admitted as soon as he could speak, and he picked up another, “but between you and me, I’ll confess that I shall not pay much attention to what Harrigan has to say. He’s never been to sea before. You can’t expect a landlubber to understand all the conditions of a life like this.”
But a new thought which was gradually forming in her brain made Kate reserve judgment. Harrigan came back and placed a few more sticks of wood on the fire.
“I can’t understand,” said Kate, “how you could make a fire without a sign of a match.”
“That’s simple,” said McTee easily. “When a man has traveled about as much as I have, he has to pick up all sorts of unusual ways of doing things. The way we made that fire was to—”
“The way we made it?” interjected Harrigan with bitter emphasis.
Kate frowned as she glanced from one to the other. There was the same deep hostility in their eyes which she had noticed when they faced each other in the captain’s cabin aboard the Mary Rogers .
“An’ why were ye sittin’ prayin’ for fire with the gir-rl thremblin’ and freezin’ to death in yer ar-rms if ye knew so well how to be makin’ one?”
“Hush—Dan,” said Kate; for the fire of anger blew high.
McTee started.
“You know each other pretty well, eh?”
“Tut, tut!” said Harrigan airily. “You can’t expect a slip of a girl to be calling a black man like you by the front name?”
McTee moistened his white lips. He rose.
“I’m going for a walk—I always do after eating.”
And he strode off down the beach. Harrigan instantly secured a handful of the shellfish.
“Speakin’ of salt,” he said apologetically, “I’ll have to try a couple of these to be sure that the captain’s right. I can tell by a taste or two.”
He pried open one of the shells and ate the contents hastily, keeping one eye askance against the return of McTee.
“Maybe he’s right about these shellfish,” he pronounced judicially, “but it’s a hard thing an’ a dangerous thing to take the word of a man like McTee—he’s that hasty. We must go easy on believin’ what he says, Kate.”
CHAPTER 12
Then understanding flooded Kate’s mind like waves of light in a dark room. She tilted back her head and laughed, laughed heartily, laughed till the tears brimmed her eyes. The gloomy scowl of Harrigan stopped her at last. As her mirth died out, the tall form of McTee appeared suddenly before them with his arms crossed. Where they touched his breast, the muscles spread out to a giant size. He was turned toward her, but the gleam of his eye fell full upon Harrigan.
“I suppose,” said McTee, and his teeth clicked after each word like the bolt of a rifle shot home, “I suppose that you were laughing at me?”
The Irishman rose and faced the Scotchman, his head thrust forward and a devil in his eyes.
“An’ what if we were, Misther McTee?” he purred. “An’ what if we wer-r-re, I’m
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