Jarrow appeared at the starboard break of the poop, his hands on his hips, a cigar aslant in his mouth. He gave the trio a critical glance, and turned his head toward the island.
"Not much chance to get out to-night," began Locke. "Do you look for a breeze?"
"I don't look for nothin'," said the captain, without looking at Locke. "I been thinkin' this thing over," he said presently, chewing his words with his cigar. "I'm out of pocket on this deal."
"How do you mean?" asked Locke, with a startled glance at Trask. He had detected a belligerent note in the captain's voice.
"Just this," said Jarrow, with sudden vehemence, slapping his hand down on the cabin roof, and turning a savage visage at the three sitting below him: "I come on this trip lookin' to make a piece o' money. I figured there'd be a couple of weeks here at the least—you'd go lookin' for gold, an' maybe find it, an' I'd git a look-in. Now ye want to skip out for Manila again. Where do I git off?"
Trask sprang to his feet, his face scarlet with rage.
"You sit down, young feller," said Jarrow, holding up a hand for attention. "Don't go off half-cocked."
"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Locke. His back was to Jarrow, and he did not get up.
Trask stood glaring at Jarrow with trembling lips and set jaw. The captain pushed his cap back on his head and puffed a couple of times at his cigar before he spoke.
"I mean you can't git out of here, wind or no wind, without me. And what's more, ye won't go when I do but ye'll pay me for my time, and I'll make it fair enough."