But Pete could not cast any light on the subject.
It was certainly true that the catch from the trawl-line was small enough to be remarkable, but the men were helpless to explain the reason.
For two hours they worked along the great line.
“There’s a bare chance that the message from the unknown schooner might be a fake, although I can’t imagine why,” said Code as they were returning. “But if it is not, and the Canadian gunboat comes after me, she’ll find me here, willing to go back to St. Andrew’s and answer all charges. No escape and no dodging this time! And let me tell you something, Pete. If nothing comes out of this except ugly rumor that I have to suffer for, I’m going to quit minding my own business; and I’ll dig up something that will drive Nat Burns out of Freekirk Head forever.
“A man of his character and nature has certainly got something he doesn’t want known, and I shall bring it to light and make it so public that he’ll wish he had never heard the name Schofield. 149 By Heaven, I’ve reached the end of my patience!”
If there was anything Pete Ellinwood loved it was a fight, and at this declaration of war he roared encouragement.
“You’ll do, skipper––you’ll do! Get after him! Climb his frame! Put him out of business. An’ let me help you. That’s all I want.”
“Everything in good time, Pete,” grinned Code. “First we’ve got to find out how much of this is in the wind and how much is not.”
Arrived at the schooner, they pitched their fish into the pen for the first watch to dress and rolled aft for the night. Code took off his coat and drew forth the packet that Elsa had given him, looked at it for a moment, and threw it upon the table.
“Why in time did she send me that?” he asked himself, his voice very near disgust. “It must have looked mighty strange to Nell for me to be getting money from Elsa Mallaby.”