For landing at
Port Gorey was at times a matter requiring both nerve and muscle.
A man, however, had just leaped ashore from the brig, and was now
standing looking somewhat anxiously after the landing of his baggage,
which consisted of a wooden chest and an old carpet-bag.
When at last it stood safely on the platform, he cast a comprehensive
look at his surroundings and then turned to the group of men who had
come down to watch the boat come in, and four pairs of eyes on the
opposite side of the gulf watched him curiously, with little thought of
the tremendous part he was to play in all their lives.
"Where's he stop?" asked Peter.
"Our house."
"Nay!"
"Ouaie, I tell you. He's to stop at our house."
"Why doesn't he go to Barracks?"
"Old Captain's there and they might not agree. Oh ouaie, he'll have his
hands full, I'm thinking. And if he's not careful it's a crack on the
head and a drop over the Coupee he'll be getting."
"Ah!" said Peter Mauger.
"Come you along and see what kind of chap he is."
"Aw well, I don't mind," and they strolled away to inspect the new Mine
Captain, who was to brace up the slackened ropes and bring the
enterprise to a successful issue.
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