CHAPTER VII
YOU'LL HAVE TO SHOW ME
The sky was reddening in the east when the last of the nets were pulled aboard. Rounding Long Point, the Petrel took up the homeward track as the sun peeped over the low brown hills and caressed the sea. Dickie Lang looked back at the wreck of the Roma and the light of victory died slowly from her eyes.
"I'm not sorry for Mascola," she exclaimed. "He got only what was coming to him. But I am sorry for the little boat. She was a good little scout and she was game to the end. You'll find that boats are a good deal like people," she went on, "when you know them as well as I do. Some of them are cranky and have to be coaxed along. Others are just plain lazy and must be pounded on the back. And there are some that are treacherous and the minute they get you in a tight place, they will lay down cold."
Her last words gave her the cue to continue: "And the ocean is full of tight places. Mascola found himself in one this morning. He had the sense to realize it and act before it was too late. It went against his grain to be beaten by a girl. But by cashing in when he did, he saved a boat perhaps. So he put
his pride in his pocket. Sometimes you've got to do that," she concluded seriously. "It hurts. But it's business."
Gregory's face showed his surprise at her annunciation of the business principle and, sensing that her admission might become embarrassing at some future time, the girl changed the subject abruptly.
"Did you see McCoy yesterday?" she asked.
"Yes. We had a long talk last night. He's coming to work for me as house-foreman."
"That's fine," Dickie commended. "You'll like him. He'll be just the man for you."