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Ebook has 1513 lines and 49018 words, and 31 pages
CATTY ATKINS, SAILORMAN
Books by CLARENCE BUDINGTON KELLAND
CATTY ATKINS, SAILORMAN CONFLICT SCATTERGOOD BAINES YOUTH CHALLENGES EFFICIENCY EDGAR CATTY ATKINS CATTY ATKINS, RIVERMAN THE HIDDEN SPRING THE HIGHFLYERS THE LITTLE MOMENT OF HAPPINESS MARK TIDD MARK TIDD IN BUSINESS MARK TIDD'S CITADEL MARK TIDD, EDITOR MARK TIDD, MANUFACTURER MARK TIDD IN THE BACKWOODS THE SOURCE SUDDEN JIM THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER
HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK Established 1817
CATTY ATKINS, SAILORMAN
Illustrated
Catty Atkins, Sailorman
D-W
Next I Knew, Somebody Was Feeling Along the Wall
When We Got Just Under Her Tail We Could Hear a Murmur of Voices
We Cranked Until We Wore the Skin Off Our Hands, and Until Our Backs Were 'Most Busted
There Was Excitement for a Minute and Everybody Came Running
CATTY ATKINS--SAILORMAN
It seems as if Catty and I have a lot of luck, and this summer we had more than usual, for Mr. Browning, who lived in New York, and was interested in all kinds of businesses, invited us to go for a cruise on his yacht. He was out to our town to see Mr. Atkins on some sort of business, and before we knew it Catty and I were friends with him, and took him fishing, and went around with him--and the day he left he said we were to come for the cruise.
Mr. Browning met us and we went to a big hotel, the biggest I ever saw, and after breakfast we got into his automobile and drove out into the country on Long Island. In about an hour we got to the town where Mr. Browning kept his yacht anchored off a club. We didn't know what kind of a boat it was going to be, but you can bet we were anxious to find out. There were about a hundred yachts anchored there--all kinds, from great steam yachts and enormous sailing yachts to little thirty-foot launches.
"Ready as human hands kin git it--considerin'," says Naboth.
"Help get the baggage aboard. Here's the rest of our crew, Naboth. Catty Atkins and Wee-wee Moore."
"Huh. Eat more 'n they'll work," said Naboth.
"We'll set them polishing brass," says Mr. Browning.
"Make 'em git rubber soles on quick, so's they won't scratch up my deck," says he.
I began to wonder who owned the yacht--whether it was Mr. Browning or Naboth, but I didn't say anything, and neither did Catty. As Catty says, "You never make a fool of yourself by keeping your mouth shut and your eyes open."
We climbed up to the deck, and then Mr. Browning took us down into the cabin. You'd be surprised how big that room was. Why it was almost as big as the parlor at home! Behind it was Mr. Browning's stateroom, with two berths in it, and forward of the cabin was a bath room and the galley, and then came the engine room with the biggest six-cylinder engine I ever saw, and still ahead of that was the crew's quarters. The boat was seventy feet long! And clean! And shining!
In the main cabin were four Pullman berths that folded into the wall, and Mr. Browning said Catty and I were to sleep there. He showed us how to take them down, and there they were, with the bed clothes all strapped on, and behind them some shelves for our clothes. He told us to fix things up and then to come on deck, for we would be getting under way in a few minutes.
We hustled and then went up on the bridge where we found Mr. Atkins talking to a young man who was introduced to us as Mr. Topper. He looked as if he was about twenty-six or seven, and was so long and thin and sad looking we didn't know what to make of him. He hardly said a word, but just sat on the leather cushion looking off at the water and wiggling his fingers.
"He's a king of a cook. No, that's his name. Rameses Third. Comes from Cape Cod some place. Always fighting with Naboth," said Mr. Browning.
Pretty soon the crew cast off the mooring, and we were on our way. Mr. Browning was at the wheel, and we started out of the harbor for Long Island Sound. It was a lovely day, and the water was as smooth as glass. Lots of small boats were all around us, and everybody seemed happy except Mr. Topper, and he was about the gloomiest looking man I ever saw.
Just as we came out of the harbor we saw a black yacht, almost as big as we were. It was going along slow, and I saw somebody on deck watching us through glasses. Mr. Topper sat up and made a face and says, "What boat's that?"
"Never saw her before," says Mr. Browning. "Why?"
"I don't like her looks," says Mr. Topper. "There's something about that boat that goes against my grain."
"Fiddlesticks," says Mr. Browning.
"She'll follow us," says Mr. Topper.
"Nonsense. Nobody knows you're here. Nobody knows anything about what we're up to."
"But it won't," says Mr. Browning.
I looked at Catty and Catty looked at me. That was funny kind of talk, and I wondered what we were getting into.
We turned up the sound, and, sure enough, the black yacht circled and turned and came right along in our wake, about half a mile behind us. Topper pointed. "There," says he, "what did I tell you?"
"You're seeing things," says Mr. Browning. "Black boat, isn't there?"
"Yes."
"Turned and followed us, didn't she?"
"She turned, but not to follow us. Why, Topper, what in the world would anybody follow us for?"
"You know that as well as I do," said Mr. Topper.
"Can't ever tell. You can't keep anything secret in this world."
"We've kept this secret. Nobody knows what you know, and nobody knows what I know."
"But somebody may know I've been there, and somebody may suspect--what I know."
"You've got the shivers," says Mr. Browning.
"I don't want to lose out now, after all the trouble I've been through."
"And you won't," says Mr. Browning. "Forget it."
"You will go monkeyin' with my brass, will ye?" Naboth hollered. "You hip-shouldered, bow-legged, cow-eyed wampus! Hain't I told you time and again that I'd chaw ye up if I ketched you layin' a rag to that rail? Eh? What d'you know about polishin' brass, you soup-stirrin', apple-stewin' whang-doodle?"
"You hit me with that there rag, and I calc'late to show you. I was polishin' brass when you was cuttin' eye teeth. I know more about brass polishin' in a minute than you do in a year. I got a right to shine brass if I want to. Hain't I part of this here crew, you leather-necked ol' turtle?"
"They're at it again," says Mr. Browning. "Been at it just like that ever since anybody ever heard of them. They always ship on the same yacht. You can't separate them, but they never do a thing but fight. Next row'll be because Naboth pokes his nose into the galley. Rameses thinks he's a sailorman, and Naboth believes he's a cook."
"Why not let them swap jobs," says Catty.
Catty motioned to me and jerked his head aft. I saw he wanted to say something to me, so I got up and went to the after deck and he came along in a minute.
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