“The man who brought them on board.”
“That was me. I said nothing.”
He remembered how Tommie had put the things on and how the two Chinks had seen her. They had rowed him off with the package and might have given the news to the others. However, it didn’t matter much and he was inclined for no more talk with B. C. He felt he had lowered himself already by speaking of the matter at all to the fellow.
Then they put the dunnage on deck and transshipped it in two journeys to the Heart. Tommie was on deck again when Candon came on board. She just nodded to him, and then turned to help getting the things down to the cabin. Candon’s lot went into the foc’sle. Then he, Jake and George set to on the windlass, getting the anchor chain in.
It was the queerest and weirdest business, for B. C. showed neither shame nor irritation nor anger. A tremendous placidity seemed to have fallen upon him, almost a mild cheerfulness. He worked away and spoke to no one, he might have been an absolute stranger, a new hand just signed on.
When the Heart was under way, Hank and George picked watches. Hank had first call and picked Jake. George said nothing. Candon had fallen to him automatically.
Then Candon went down into the foc’sle to arrange his things and see after his bunk and with Hank at the wheel, the schooner lay again on her old course, the far-off crying of the gulls round Santander rock following them like the voice of mockery.