“I wish your nerves did get the upper hand once in a while,” groaned the smaller man. “Then you’d know what I feel. I tell you, Frank, the immediate future looks dark—dark!”
Mr. Delavan laughed jovially.
“Something fearfully unfortunate is going to happen,” insisted the man of nerves.
“Something very unfortunate,” assented Delavan. “We’re going to add something in the way of millions to our fortunes, and those millions will have to be looked after. Eben, a rich man’s lot isn’t a happy one, is it?”
“Happy?” groaned Moddridge. “I should say not.”
“Then I’ll tell you what to do,” proposed Mr. Delavan. “Turn your miserable fortune over to Halstead, and then sit by to watch him going to pieces with worry.”
Mr. Moddridge, however, refused to be comforted, or to take a humorous view of anything.
“Halstead,” said Mr. Delavan, going over and resting a hand on the young captain’s shoulder, “I don’t expect to need the ‘Rocket’ for any purpose to-morrow, but I can’t tell definitely yet. Go back on board. To-morrow keep all hands on board or close by, so that you can take the boat out if needed. Enjoy yourselves all you can. Eat the best that you can find aboard. Don’t bother about to-night’s happenings—my friend, Moddridge, will attend to all of that. If it happens that you, or Dawson, are approached again by strangers, let them think that you might be induced to fall in with their plans, after all, and then you can let me know what follows. Moddridge and I are playing a peculiar and big game with the money market, and I’ve no doubt that others would like to steal or bribe their way into it. But I trust you. Good night, my boy.”
So Captain Tom strolled back to the pier, thinking over a good many things. As he came in sight of the “Rocket” at her berth he noted that the only lights showing were one deck light, aft, and the gleam that came through the port-holes of the crew’s quarters forward. It looked as though Joe Dawson and Jed Prentiss had turned in for the night, or were about to do so.