ABOUT LOBSTERS 



holds two stinking baskets of bait, and several lobster 

 pots standing on end. 



And Hen-ray. 



It is Hen-ray who dominates the picture. He isn't 

 tall, perhaps five and a half feet, and he isn't young- 

 he might be fifty, but his two-day growth of grey 

 stubble may add to his age. He wears faded dungarees 

 tucked into knee-length rubber boots, a gaudy flannel 

 shirt, and a long-visored Portegee fisherman's cap. He 

 chews tobacco slowly and monotonously. 



Hen-ray has a strong face, seamed and tanned, and 

 piercing blue eyes which impel one to look back with 

 equal concentration. He is not the smiling type, and 

 gravely greets the two brothers with " Mornin', boys." 



The brothers make the introduction, and the sales- 

 man tells the story of the plugs. Hen-ray listens impas- 

 sively, not quite antagonistic, but rather holding him- 

 self coldly aloof from this city slicker in store clothing 

 who is brash enough to tell him about plugging lob- 

 sters. The sales talk ends with " Here's a handful. You 

 try em. 



There is no response in Hen-ray's face as he re- 

 ceives the plugs in a big knuckled hand. He doesn't 

 even look at them, but continues to coldly and silently 

 appraise this stranger. His jaws chomp on and the ten- 

 sion grows. Then he does examine the pile of plugs. He 

 doesn't take one up singly to test its sharp point or 

 scrutinize its shape. He is deliberate, and one can feel 

 his unspoken contempt for them. Finally, he tosses the 

 handful over his shoulder into the water, leans to the 

 rail to spit overside, and says " Them plugs ain't wuth 

 a good Goddam." He looks up with an icy glare to 

 show that he isn't to be taken in by any lubber who 

 doesn't know lobstering. 



Of course, the salesman is angry. And he's also 

 aware that Hen-ray expects him to be angry. The city 

 feller swallows a couple of times to absorb the shock, 

 and keeps glaring back just as piercingly as Hen-ray is 



