“Be you?” said Captain Hap. His small, dark, soft eyes twinkled gently; but they took on lustre of metal across the iris; as if a spark of iron or flint had hit them.
“It is time,” said Bayard, “that I knew all about it.”
“Meaning”—began the captain softly.
“Meaning everything,” said Bayard impatiently. “The whole story. It’s the best thing for me. I dream about it so.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed your dreams was bad,” replied the nurse soothingly.
“Captain, where’s the Clara Em?”
“To the bottom,” responded the fisherman cheerfully.
“And the men? The crew? Her captain? Job Slip? How many were drowned? Out with it, Cap’n! I’m not very easy to deceive, when I’m in my senses. You may as well tell me everything.”
“Mebbe I mought,” observed the captain. “Sometimes it’s the best way. There wasn’t but one of ’em drowned, sir,—more’s the pity.”