“The launch was there, made fast alongside the little wharf.  Nice, slick-lookin’ craft she was, too, all varnish and gilt gorgeousness.  I’d liked her better if she’d carried a sail, for it’s my experience that canvas is a handy thing to have aboard in case of need; but she looked seaworthy enough and built for speed.

“While I was standin’ on the pier lookin’ down at her I heard footsteps and brisk remarks from behind the bushes on the bank, and here comes Williams, puffin’ and blowin’, followed by a sulky-lookin’ hired man totin’ a deckload of sweaters and ileskins, with a lunch basket on top.  Williams himself wan’t carryin’ anything but his temper, but he hadn’t forgot none of that.

“‘Hello, Berry,’ says he to me.  ’You are on time, ain’t you.  Blessed if it ain’t a comfort to find somebody who’ll do what I tell ’em.  Now you,’ he says to the servant, ’put them things aboard and clear out as quick as you’ve a mind to.  You and I are through; understand?  Don’t let me find you hangin’ around the place when I get back.  Cast off, Sol.’

“The man dumped the dunnage into the launch, pretty average ugly, and me and the boss climbed aboard.  I cast off.

“‘Mr. Williams,’ says the man, kind of pleadin’, ‘ain’t you goin’ to pay me the rest of my month’s wages?’

“Williams told him he wa’n’t, and added trimmin’s to make it emphatic.

“I started the engine and we moved out at a good clip.  All at once that hired man runs to the end of the wharf and calls after us.

“‘All right for you, you fat-head!’ he yells.  ’You’ll be sorry for what you done to me.’

“I cal’late the boss would have liked to go back and lick him, but I was hired to go a-fishin’, not to watch a one-sided prize fight, and I thought ’twas high time we started.

“The name of that launch was the Shootin’ Star, and she certainly lived up to it.  ’Twas one of them slick, greasy days, with no sea worth mentionin’ and we biled along fine.  We had to, because the cod ledge is a good many mile away, ‘round Sandy P’int out to sea, and, judgin’ by what I’d seen of Fatty so fur, I wa’n’t hankerin’ to spend more time with him than was necessary.  More’n that, there was fog signs showin’.

“‘When was you figgerin’ on gettin’ back, Mr. Williams?’ I asked him.

“‘When I’ve caught as many fish as I want to,’ he says.  ’I told that housekeeper of mine that I’d be back when I got good and ready; it might be to-night and it might be ten days from now.  “If I ain’t back in a week you can hunt me up,” I told her; “but not before.  And that goes.”  I’ve got her trained all right.  She knows me.  It’s a pity if a man can’t be independent of females.’

“I knew consider’ble many men that was subjects for pity, ‘cordin’ to that rule.  But I wa’n’t in for no week’s cruise, and I told him so.  He said of course not; we’d be home that evenin’.

“The Shootin’ Star kept slippin’ along.  ‘Twas a beautiful mornin’ and, after a spell, it had its effect, even on a crippled disposition like that banker man’s.  He lit up a cigar and begun to get more sociable, in his way.  Commenced to ask me questions about myself.