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one Duxbury, and three Provincetown men.

There was a general sorting out among the Fleet next day; and
though no one said anything, all ate with better appetites when
boat after boat reported full crews aboard. Only a couple of
Portuguese and an old man from Gloucester were drowned, but many
were cut or bruised; and two schooners had parted their tackle and
been blown to the southward, three days' sail. A man died on a
Frenchman - it was the same bark that had traded tobacco with the
"We're Heres". She slipped away quite quietly one wet, white
morning, moved to a patch of deep water, her sails all hanging
anyhow, and Harvey saw the funeral through Disko's spy-glass. It
was only an oblong bundle slid overside. They did not seem to have
any form of service, but in the night, at anchor, Harvey heard
them across the star-powdered black water, singing something that
sounded like a hymn. It went to a very slow tune.

La brigantine
Qui va tourner,
Roule et s'incline
Pour m'entrainer.
Oh, Vierge Marie,
Pour moi priez Dieu!
Adieu, patrie;
Québec, adieu!

Tom Platt visited her, because, he said, the dead man was his
brother as a Freemason. It came out that a wave had doubled the
poor fellow over the heel of the bowsprit and broken his back. The
news spread like a flash, for, contrary to general custom, the
Frenchman held an auction of the dead man's kit, - he had no
friends at St. Malo or Miquelon, - and everything was spread out
on the top of the house, from his red knitted cap to the leather
belt with the sheath-knife at the back. Dan and Harvey were out on
twenty-fathom water in the Hattie S., and naturally rowed over to
join the crowd. It was a long pull, and they stayed some little
time while Dan bought the knife, which had a curious brass handle.
When they dropped overside and pushed off into a drizzle of rain
and a lop of sea, it occurred to them that they might get into
trouble for neglecting the lines.
"Guess 'twon't hurt us any to be warmed up," said Dan, shivering
under his oilskins, and they rowed on into the heart of a white
fog, which, as usual, dropped on them without warning.

"There's too much blame tide hereabouts to trust to your
instinks," he said. "Heave over the anchor, Harve, and we'll fish
a piece till the thing lifts. Bend on your biggest lead. Three
pound ain't any too much in this water. See how she's tightened on
her rodin' already."

There was quite a little bubble at the bows, where some
irresponsible Bank current held the dory full stretch on her rope;
but they could not see a boat's length in any direction. Harvey
turned up his collar and bunched himself over his reel with the
air of a wearied navigator. Fog had no special terrors for him
now. They fished awhile in silence, and found the cod struck on
well. Then Dan drew the sheath-knife and tested the edge of it on
the gunwale.

"That's a daisy," said Harvey. "How did you get it so cheap?"

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