Peter T., he said they'd got to be quieted
somehow, or he'd do some shooting on his own hook; said too much Toddy
was going to his head. Then I suggested taking 'em down the
beach somewheres on the chance of seeing a stray coot or loon or
something--ANYTHING that could be shot at. Jonadab and Peter agreed
'twas a good plan, and we matched to see who'd be guide. And I got
stuck, of course; my luck again.

So the next morning we started, me and the Reverend James and Clarissa
in the Greased Lightning, Peter's new motor launch. First part of the
trip that Todd man done nothing but ask questions about the launch; I
had to show him how to start it and steer it, and the land knows what
all. Clarissa set around doing the heavy contemptuous and turning up her
nose at creation generally. It must have its drawbacks, this roosting so
fur above the common flock; seems to me I'd be thinking all the time of
the bump that was due me if I got shoved off the perch.

Well, by and by Lonesome Huckleberries' shanty hove in sight, and I
was glad to see it, although I had to answer a million questions about
Lonesome and his history.

I told the Todds that, so fur as nationality was concerned he was a
little of everything, like a picked-up dinner; principally Eyetalian and
Portugee, I cal'late, with a streak of Gay Head Injun. His real name's
long enough to touch bottom in the ship channel at high tide, so folks
got to calling him "Huckleberries" because he peddles them kind of fruit
in summer. Then he mopes around so with nary a smile on his face, that
it seemed right to tack on the "Lonesome." So "Lonesome Huckleberries"
he's been for ten years. He lives in the patchwork shanty on the beach
down there, he is deaf and dumb, drives a liver-colored, balky mare that
no one but himself and his daughter Becky can handle, and he has a love
for bad rum and a temper that's landed him in the Wellmouth lock-up more
than once or twice. He's one of the best gunners alongshore and at
this time he owned a flock of live decoys that he'd refused as high as
fifteen dollars apiece for. I told all this and a lot more.

When we struck the beach, Clarissa, she took her paint box and umbrella
and mosquito 'intment, and the rest of her cargo, and went off by
herself to "sketch." She was great on "sketching," and the way she'd use
up good paint and spile nice clean paper was a sinful waste. Afore she
went, she give me three fathom of sailing orders concerning t