All this time the mate had said nothing. Big and burly as he was, there were tears in his eyes; he had a kind heart, for there were many little ones to feed and clothe in his own household. He thought it was time to settle the dispute.
For he heard the Strathcona's whistle blowing impatiently, warning the men ashore that the sea was rising and the rocks in the uncertain weather meant danger. The little steamer, while the palaver went on, had been following alongshore as they went round the island. The snow was getting thicker, and the wind was tipping the waves with whitecaps. They must be off without further parley.
So the mate, not wasting words, suddenly grabbed Billy under one long, strong arm.
Billy kicked and howled and struggled. Billy had no idea of that delightful home for the children at St. Anthony. He would have cried to go there, if he had known what playmates he would have, what diverting games to play.
Billy was captured "for good and all." But Dr. Grenfell knew that it wouldn't do for Billy to be toted off alone.
He was bound he'd get another child,—for he knew he was right, not merely because of the good he could do the children, but because of the hopeless situation of the whole family if they all remained on this miserable shelf of rock in the open Atlantic.
"Now, Mrs. Mitchell," he coaxed, "you're going to let Jimmy come too, to keep Billy company."
She shook her head in defiance. Her mind was made up. Billy could go—but he was the only one. That was flat and final.
Then Tom broke his silence once more: "I says he knows what's for t' best."
The Strathcona's whistle was petulantly crying: "Come on! We really must be starting! If you don't come aboard right away, we may be wrecked. Really, you must think of your crew. It isn't fair to let us run this risk, with the barometer falling, and the wind like this."