“Not much there, was there?” said the fisherman as he took up his oars. “You come over to the next one and I’ll show you some lobsters.”
So Tom rowed after him a hundred yards or so and awaited with interest the appearance of the next pot. The prediction proved true, for when the pot came to the surface it looked to be swarming with lobsters. To Tom’s surprise, the first two or three that were taken out were tossed back into the water.
“Best eatin’ there is,” was the reply, “but they’re ‘shorts.’”
“Young ’uns under ten inches long. Law don’t allow us to keep ’em.”
There were a good many shorts in the trap, but there were also four good-sized lobsters, and the lobsterman seemed well pleased.
“Do you sell them?” asked Tom. The man glanced across at him shrewdly.
“If you could let me have a couple, I’d like it.”
“All right.” Tom dived into his pocket, brought up the money and pulled up to the dory, where the exchange was made.
“Guess you never see no hens like them afore,” chuckled the lobsterman as he rowed away. “An’, say, don’t pet ’em much; they might peck yer!”
The lobsters were in the bottom of the tender, and as he rowed back to the launch Tom was careful to keep his feet out of their reach. When he had made fast and carefully lifted the lobsters on board, he put his head into the engine room and listened. Not a sound reached him save the peaceful breathing of his companions. That appeared to put an idea into Tom’s head. With a malicious smile, he tiptoed across to the lobsters, took one gingerly in each hand, and descended to the stateroom. There he placed the lobsters in the middle of the space between the berths, where they would each show to the best advantage, kicked off his sneakers, carefully closed the hatch and the doors, and finally crept back to bed. Once under the covers, he threw his arms out and yawned loudly. That not having the desired effect, he called sleepily to Dan:
“Time to get up, Dan! It’s most half-past seven! _Da-a-an!_”
“Wha-what time is it?” asked Dan fretfully.
“Oh, it’s late; most half-past seven,” answered Tom.
“Is it?” There was quiet for a moment. Then Dan sat up resolutely, stared drowsily about him and tumbled out of bed. As luck would have it, one bare foot landed plump on the cold, slippery back of the nearest lobster. The lobster rolled over, and so did Dan. There was a shriek, and Dan, staring in horrified dismay at the cause of his upset, tried to retreat into Bob’s berth.