"You are right, Captain Candage. That's why I almost hate to go out to
the Conomo. Those infernal ghouls of junkmen will be tearing her into
bits instead of trying to put the breath of life back into her."
The helpless steamer seemed more lonely than when they had visited her
before. The mosquito fleet that had surrounded her, hoping for some
stray pickings, had dispersed. A tug and a couple of lighters were stuck
against her icy sides, and, like leeches, were sucking from her what
they could. They were prosecuting their work industriously, for the
sea was calm in one of those lulls between storms, a wintry truce that
Atlantic coastwise toilers understand and depend on.
Mayo, his curiosity prompting him, determined to go on board one of the
lighters and discover to what extremes the junk jackals were proceeding.
Two of his dorymen ferried him after the schooner had been hove to near
the wreck.
"What's your business?" inquired a man who was bundled in a fur coat and
seemed to be bossing operations.
"Nothing much," confessed the young man from his dory, which was tossing
alongside the lighter. "I'm only a fisherman."
The swinging cranes of the lighters, winches purring, the little
lifting-engines puffing in breathless staccato, were hoisting and
dropping cargo--potatoes in sacks, and huge rolls of print paper. Mayo
was a bit astonished to note that they were not stripping the steamer;
not even her anchors and chains had been disturbed.
"Fend off!" commanded the boss.
Captain Dodge dropped one of the windows of his pilot-house and leaned
on his elbows, thrusting his head out. The tug Seba J. Ransom was
still on the job. She was tied up alongside the wreck, chafing her
fenders against the ice-sheathed hull.
"Hello, Captain Mayo!" he called, a welcoming grin splitting his
features. "Come aboard and have a cigar, and this time I'll keep the
conversation on fish-scales and gurry-butts."
The man in the fur coat glanced from one to the other, and was promptly
placated. "Oh, this is a friend of yours, is he, Captain Dodge?"
"You bet he is. He's been my boss before now."
"If that's the case make yourself at home anywhere. But you know what
some of these fellows alongcoast who call themselves fishermen will do
around a wreck when your back is turned!"
Mayo nodded amicably.
"Step on board," invited the boss.
"I'm all right here in the dory, and I'm out from underfoot, sir. We're
going along to the fishing-grounds in a jiffy. I'm only satisfying
a sailor's curiosity. Wondered what you intended to do with this
proposition."