Rock's face purpled, then grew white. His beady eyes shifted nervously from one person to another, and focused at last on Kenneth Gregory.
"I'll take the check," he said thickly in a voice that shook with emotion.
It was some time later when the business of the day came to a satisfactory close. Winfield & Camby's representative had departed with his signed contract which McCoy had designated as a "gilt-edge proposition." The fish were all unloaded and the night-shift had already started to work on them. The events of the past two days were beginning to bear fruit.
Mascola had been beaten. Rock had been beaten. The sea itself had been beaten by Dickie Lang and the Richard. All of these things had been gone over again and again. Weak from the reaction of the continued strain under which they had labored, the quartette of principals in the cannery drama slouched deep in their chairs and conversation began to lag.
Then Dickie Lang broke the silence.
"We've all forgotten to eat," she exclaimed. "If you'll all come up to the house I know Aunt Mary will do her best for you."
Gregory, Hawkins and McCoy accepted the invitation in unison. As they followed the girl out, Gregory observed to McCoy:
"I can't understand why Winfield & Camby faced
about so suddenly. Why, they saved our lives. Who would have thought it?"
"I would," Hawkins cut in. "Anybody would who stopped to think." He slapped Gregory affectionately on the shoulder. "Didn't I tell you, Cap, that I'd have old Dupont eating out of your hand in less than a week?" he challenged. "Old leather-face has an ear to the ground. He's heard the rumble of my thunder and he wants to get to cover."