174 FOLLOW THE WHALE 



Open water when the wind blows from this quarter. It is sheer mad- 

 ness. Look at that old heathen, Makatoqua!" he added, pointing 

 scornfully. "He would launch his leaky canoe upon the weather side 

 of the jetty." 



And it was true, for the old Indian headman, aided only by one 

 small boy, was shoving his rickety canoe down the rocky beach 

 straight into the foaming breakers. Meanwhile, all other able-bodied 

 Indian men and boys had also come running down from the settle- 

 ment, and likewise made haste to launch their canoes. Master Pom- 

 feroy continued to deplore their actions and to ridicule their lack 

 of wisdom in tones that defied the elements, until another voice 

 broke in. It was Goodman Masterson. 



Now, Ned Masterson was a God-fearing man, as everyone could 

 attest. He was also an able seaman, having been born to the fishing 

 trade in the old country, and when he spoke of things maritime, all 

 would respect his word, although he was but a goodman and illiter- 

 ate. And what he now said caused even Joshua Pomferoy to stop 

 talking and listen. 



"Be we men or landlubbers?" he called out suddenly. "By the 

 ghost of Saint David, I would try my luck with the Indians, for 

 whatever thou sayest, Master Pomferoy, they be both men and fine 

 boatsmen. Begging your wishes, gentlemen, would there be aught 

 among ye goodmen present who would launch the oaken gig with 

 me and ply an oar in aid of Makatoqua? It is my belief that, abiding 

 by the will of the Almighty, we still have a mite to learn from our 

 heathen brethren. Methinks also that this fishery may, betimes, bring 

 us goodly profit to boot." 



The entire group turned to gaze upon Goodman Masterson, 

 and quickly recovering from their surprise, one by one, led by old 

 Etienne Quimpery, the Breton sailor, the men stepped forward, 

 each raising his hand and saying simply, "Aye." It took eight men 

 to man the oars of the gig and in addition there was space for a 

 helmsman and three others in the little open vessel. Seven men had 

 stepped forward when Joshua Pomferoy let out a bellow. 



"Odds balls and barrels," he boomed. "No man in this commu- 

 nity is taking the helm of that gig whilst I stand upon the shore 

 like a craven sheepherder. Fetch you Will Harvey from his forges 

 and tell him to bring with him his hardest filing tools. Bring ye also 



