"Don't want him, Jones. Got to have men who know the game round Diablo in a fog. Take Sorenson."
The fisherman nodded and lumbered up the gangway followed by others. Dickie Lang jammed her hands deep down into her pockets and shrugged her shoulders as she turned to Gregory.
"If it isn't one thing, it's another," she said quietly. "Can you beat it? Manuel saying he was run down?
He was scared to death. I don't believe a thing touched him. He just went to sleep and drifted in on the rocks and made up that story to save his job. Well, we'll know when I see the hull."
Gregory listened, scarcely hearing the girl's words. At her announcement of going to the island he began to make tentative plans to accompany her. There might be a lot he could do. And she sure needed help. He wondered if he could offer his assistance without again antagonizing her.
"I'd like to go with you," he said bluntly. "I don't know much about the sea yet, but maybe I can do some of the strong-arm stuff and learn something. Besides, I want to have a look at Diablo."
Dickie regarded him approvingly.
"How about the cannery?" she asked. "My boats will go on fishing just the same."
"McCoy can take care of things all right until I get back. I'll learn a lot more over there than sticking around here."
"You're the boss of that," she replied. Then she added as an afterthought. "I'd be glad to have you."