“There ain’t money enough in the world to make me do that.”––Page 242.
The Captain strode from the room and down the stair. Mr. Fox called feebly, begging him to return. But the seaman was deaf with rage, and he left the house without hearing the mumbled petition of an apparently penitent Elder.
Captain Pott half ran, half stumbled, down to the wharf. He hurriedly untied his dory, and rowed out to the Jennie P. A little later he anchored his power-boat in the harbor of 244 Little River where the railroad station was located. He rowed ashore, secured his dory, and ran to the depot. He climbed aboard the city-bound train just as it began to move.
CHAPTER XIII
Daylight was beginning to peep through the morning darkness when the Captain threaded his way along the crooked path to the rear of his house. He drew off his boots outside the kitchen door, and tiptoed to his room. Without removing his clothing he threw himself on the bed. The sunlight was streaming through the eastern windows when he awoke. He stretched himself off the bed, and threw back the covers so that Miss Pipkin would think he had slept there the night through. He went down to the kitchen.
“Anything special to tell me this morning, Josiah?” whispered the housekeeper as he entered. “How pale you look! Ain’t been seeing ghosts, have you? You look like one yourself.”
“Maybe ’twas ghosts I see, but they looked purty tolerable real to me. Yes, Clemmie, I’ve sartin been looking on things what ain’t good for a healthy man to see. One of ’em is 246 that I’m a ruined man, and there ain’t no help for it.”