“Close your hatch, Bella,” he ordered.
“Close your hatch!” repeated the parrot.
“Yes, sir, I’m lost,” Jim said, as the fisherman looked once more at him. And feeling that the truth would serve him more than half a story, he told the man everything. The old man’s face took on a look of great interest as he listened, and his eyes danced.
“I want to know!” he roared, when Jim had finished. “I always mistrusted that gang up there. I can’t figure out what they’re doing on this island. The miserable dogs!” He jumped to his feet and took down a battered blue hat which he clapped on his head. “Come on, Jim Mercer, we’ll put a spoke in them fellows’ wheel, or my name ain’t Captain Blow.”
“Do you think you can locate the Lassie?” Jim asked.
“Sure thing. I got a power dory out front that’ll chase up anything on the water.” He leveled his finger at the parrot. “Keep your eye on the ship ’till I get back, Bella Donna.”
“Oh, my! Mind your eye!” croaked the parrot, blinking.
The captain and Jim went out, and the captain closed the door after him but did not lock it.
“Don’t you lock your door?” Jim asked, in surprise.
The captain chuckled. “No, I don’t. I got Bella trained so that if anybody that don’t belong comes cruisin’ around she starts to groan like someone was dead inside. That keeps ’em out.”