“Do you believe that codfish swallow stones before a storm?” asked Kate.  I had been thinking about the lonely fisherman in a sentimental way, and so irrelevant a question shocked me.  “I saw he felt slightly embarrassed at having talked about his affairs so much,” Kate told me afterward, “and I thought we should leave him feeling more at his ease if we talked about fish for a while.”  And sure enough he did seem relieved, and gave us his opinion about the codfish at once, adding that he never cared much for cod any way; folks up country bought ’em a good deal, he heard.  Give him a haddock right out of the water for his dinner!

“I never can remember,” said Kate, “whether it is cod or haddock that have a black stripe along their sides—­”

“O, those are haddock,” said I; “they say that the Devil caught a haddock once, and it slipped through his fingers and got scorched; so all the haddock had the same mark afterward.”

“Well, now, how did you know that old story?” said Danny, laughing heartily; “ye mustn’t believe all the old stories ye hear, mind ye!”

“O, no,” said we.

“Hullo!  There’s Jim Toggerson’s boat close in shore.  She sets low in the water, so he’s done well.  He and Skipper Scudder have been out deep-sea fishing since yesterday.”

Our friend pushed the porgies back into a corner, stuck his knife into a beam, and we hurried down to the shore.  Kate and I sat on the pebbles, and he went out to the moorings in a dirty dory to help unload the fish.

We afterward saw a great deal of Danny, as all the men called him.  But though Kate and I tried our best and used our utmost skill and tact to make him tell us more about himself, he never did.  But perhaps there was nothing more to be told.

The day we left Deephaven we went down to the shore to say good by to him and to some other friends, and he said, “Goin’, are ye?  Well, I’m sorry; ye’ve treated me first-rate; the Lord bless ye!” and then was so much mortified at the way he had said farewell that he turned and fled round the corner of the fish-house.

Captain Sands

Old Captain Sands was one of the most prominent citizens of Deephaven, and a very good friend of Kate’s and mine.  We often met him, and grew much interested in him before we knew him well.  He had a reputation in town for being peculiar and somewhat visionary; but every one seemed to like him, and at last one morning, when we happened to be on our way to the wharves, we stopped at the door of an old warehouse which we had never seen opened before.  Captain Sands sat just inside, smoking his pipe, and we said good morning, and asked him if he did not think there was a fog coming in by and by.  We had thought a little of going out to the lighthouse.  The cap’n rose slowly, and came out so that he could see farther round to the east.  “There’s some scud coming in a’ready,” said he.  “None to speak of yet, I don’t know’s you can see it,—­yes, you’re right; there’s a heavy bank of fog lyin’ off, but it won’t be in under two or three hours yet, unless the wind backs round more and freshens up.  Weren’t thinking of going out, were ye?”