Page:The Cannery Boat.pdf/57

Rh juice from the crabs and stayed like that for days on end, so that it was no wonder lice and bugs began to swarm.

“These fleas will be the death of us, I tell you.”

“Oh, well, it’ll be a nice end.”

And as there was nothing else to do they laughed.

Two or three excited fishermen rushed along the deck. When they reached the end they reeled and grasped hold of the railing. The carpenter, who was doing some repairing on the saloon deck, looked over in the direction the men had gone. The cutting wind brought tears to his eyes, so that at first he could not see clearly. He turned his head aside and blew his nose vigorously.

The port-quarter winch was rattling. As all were out fishing now there was no reason to be working it. Something was dangling from it, and that something was shaking. The wire, which hung down vertically, was swinging round, describing circles. “What is it?”—his heart gave a leap.

“He’s at it again.” Wiping his tears on his sleeve again and again, he assured himself that it was so. From where he stood he could see, against a background of livery-grey sea, the jutting-out derrick of the winch, and hanging from it one of the workers, completely bound, defined in clear black. The winch was raised up as far as it would go and he was left hanging there like that for a long while—twenty minutes at least. After that it