Tier upon tier of barrels
of clams were stored under the open sheds, ready to be packed away
in the _Seamew's_ hold. Orion loudly acclaimed against a malign
fate.
"Hi golly! Ain't we goin' to have no spare time at all? This running
in a coasting packet is plain slavery; that's what it is! A man
don't have a chance even to go home and change his socks 'tween
trips."
"Have a clean pair in your duffel bag; then you won't have to go
home for 'em, 'Rion," advised Tunis. "We've got to make hay while
the sun shines. There'll be loafing enough to cut into the profits
by and by when bad weather breaks."
Orion grunted pessimistically. Little in this world ever just suited
Orion.
"She's a hoodooed packet. I said it from the first," he muttered to
Horry. "You know well enough what she was before they gave her a
lick of paint and a new name. We'll all pay high yet for sailin' in
her."
"I wouldn't let Cap'n Tunis hear me say that 'nless I was seekin' a
new berth," rejoined the old mariner.
Tunis left the mate and Horry to carry on while he took the
passenger ashore, meaning to spend the night himself at home with
Aunt Lucretia. He stopped to get Eunez Pareta's father to harness up
his old horse and transfer Miss Bostwick's trunk and bag to the Ball
homestead.
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