Tom quivered, but said nothing. Lifelong self-control was again in the ascendency. He knew the other was right, and he already repented his fury of a moment before.
“All right, Bill!” he said, almost calmly. “You’re right. Only don’t say nothing against her to me. I’m too plumb sore to stand it just now. We’ll go as soon as you say.”
“I say now. The Haakon—she’s the steamer I’ve chartered—won’t be along till about dawn, but we’ve got to get out in the bay and wait for her. That little h—— —that is, them policeoffskis may be down on us any bloomin’ minute. The water’s quiet, and I guess we won’t swamp. Wait! Let’s look.”
The man broke off and ran up the ladder that led to the deck and poked his head above the combings. In a moment he turned, and Tom could see that his face was pale under its tan.
“—— —— ——!” he raged. “They’re coming now. A dozen boats are starting out. Quick! We ain’t got a minute to lose.”
He vaulted up on the deck, followed by the plainsman.
“Here!” he yelled. “Get that anchor up. Quick! Then help me with the mainsail.”
He darted forward and grasped the jib halliards. The weight was almost too much for one man, but necessity lent strength, and by the time the anchor was on board the jib was up. Then the two men tailed on to the mainsail halliards and the big sail rose slowly to the peak.
“Make fast! Hurry! Them boats are getting near.”
Leaving the halliards to his brother, Bill sprang to the sheet, and drew aft the flapping sail, holding it with one hand against the bits, and grasping the helm with the other.