“Decidedly,” answered Havens with a slight shiver.
The man, who appeared to be master of the vessel, which was a small coast-wise trading schooner, walked to the rail and looked out over the street Havens had so recently crossed.
While standing there he took a foul old briar pipe from his pocket, filled it with cut plug tobacco, and touched a match to the ill-smelling heap. Havens noticed that as he did so he shook the match viciously in the air, as if trying to extinguish the flame.
Again the millionaire was entirely deceived by the apparently innocent action. Feeling comparatively at peace with himself, he stood waiting for the captain’s decision.
Presently the squat of a man returned to where the millionaire was standing and pointed toward the hatchway.
“I wouldn’t send a cat ashore if he was wet and thirsty,” commented the captain. “If you’ll step down the hatchway, I’ll give you something to offset the chill of the water.”
Havens followed the pointing finger, and soon stood in a small cabin which lay completely under the one deck of the schooner. It was a large room, evidently long used for the storage of such goods as the vessel carried, but one corner was partitioned off by a screen, and here a faded and worn rug, a broken couch, a table, and a couple of chairs proclaimed the home of the master of the craft. Havens took one of the chairs and waited for his host to speak. A clock on the wall showed the hour of half-past two.
Directly the captain opened a cupboard and brought forth a bottle of spirits and two glasses.
“Help yourself!” he said to Havens.
Now Havens had not the slightest notion of taking a drink of liquor. He was a total abstainer, and even had he been in the habit of using intoxicating liquors, he would never have indulged under such circumstances. His watch and money had been taken from him before he had regained consciousness, but his general appearance was that of a man who would be apt to pay roundly for his release in case he was temporarily removed from the society of his friends.