got--Humph! All right, Mr. Ellery; I'm much obliged."

CHAPTER XVII

IN WHICH EBENEZER CAPEN IS SURPRISED

Before sunset that afternoon the San Jose was anchored behind the point
by the inlet. The fishing boats changed moorings and moved farther
up, for not a single one of their owners would trust himself within a
hundred yards of the stricken brigantine. As soon as the anchors were
dropped, the volunteer crew was over side and away, each of its members
to receive a scolding from his family for taking such a risk and to have
his garments sulphur-smoked or buried. Charlie Burgess, whose wife was
something of a Tartar, observed ruefully that he "didn't take no comfort
'round home nowadays; between the smell of brimstone and the jawin's
'twas the hereafter ahead of time."

The largest of the beach shanties, one which stood by itself a quarter
of a mile from the light, was hurriedly prepared for use as a pesthouse
and the sick sailor was carried there on an improvised stretcher.
Dr. Parker and Ellery lifted him from his berth and, assisted by old
Ebenezer Capen, got him up to the deck and lowered him into the dory.
Ebenezer rowed the trio to the beach and the rest of the journey was
comparatively easy.

The shanty had three rooms, one of which was given up to the patient,
one used as a living room, and, in the third, Capen and the minister
were to sleep. Mattresses were procured, kind-hearted and sympathizing
townspeople donated cast-off tables and chairs, and the building was
made as comfortable as it could be, under the circumstances. Sign
boards, warning strangers to keep away, were erected, and in addition
to them, the Trumet selectmen ordered ropes stretched across the lane on
both sides of the shanty. But ropes and signs were superfluous. Trumet
in general was in a blue funk and had no desire to approach within a
mile of the locality. Even the driver of the grocery cart, when he left
the day's supply of provisions, pushed the packages under the ropes,
yelled a hurried "Here you be!" and, whipping up his horse, departed at
a rattling gallop.

The village sat up nights to discuss the affair and every day brought
a new sensation. The survivors of the San Jose's crew, a wretched,
panic-stricken quartette of mulattos and Portuguese, were apprehended
on the outskirts of Denboro, the town below Trumet on the bay side,
and were promptly sequestered and fumigated, pending shipment to the
hospital at Boston. Their s