a trap boat is often greater than a whole season's catch of fish.

So Abel lost no time in hauling in and coiling his jigger line, in
adjusting his oars, and in pulling away toward the derelict with all the
strength his strong arms and sinewy body could muster.

Abel had wished for a good sea boat all his life. When the fishing
schooners now and again of a foggy night anchored behind Itigailit
Island he never failed to examine the fine big trap boats which they
carried. Sometimes he had ventured to inquire how much salt fish they
would accept in exchange for one. But he had never had enough fish, and
his desire to possess a boat seemed little less likely of fulfilment
than that of a boy with a dime in his pocket, covetously contemplating a
gold watch in the shop window.

But here, at last, drifting directly toward him, as though Old Ocean
meant it as a gift, propelled by a gentle breeze and an incoming tide,
came a boat that would cost him nothing but the getting. Fortune was
smiling upon Abel Zachariah this fine August morning.

Now and again as he approached the derelict, Abel rested upon his oars,
that he might turn about for a moment and feast his eyes upon his
prospective prize, and revel in the pleasure of anticipation about to be
realized.

And so, presently, he discovered that the boat was not a trap boat after
all, but a much finer craft than any trap boat he had ever seen. Its
lines were much more graceful, it had recently been painted, and, as it
rose and fell with the swell, a varnished gunwale glistened in the
sunlight. It was fully four fathoms and a half in length, and was