“Oh, I’m not going to leave you thrown down,” retorted young Prentiss. “Cap, this is my friend, Hank Butts. Hank is right out of sea-faring stock for a hundred years back. And he can cook, too. Say, Tom, he was down at Nantucket, two years ago, on the Life Saving Service cutter. Even then he could cook, eh, Hank?”
“Some,” laconically responded the freckle-faced youth. “And I can handle boats—some—though I don’t know much about motors.”
“I just ran into him on the way up here, Tom,” confided Jed. “But say, I know all about him, from two years ago. Can you give him the job until I show up back again, anyway?”
“Yes,” agreed Halstead at once. “Of course, subject to Mr. Delavan’s approval.”
“Then good-bye, and good luck to you all,” cried Jed Prentiss, after hastily looking at his watch. “I’ve got to run. I’ve said good-bye to Joe already. Tom, I’ve left my uniforms on board—if you can squeeze Hank into ’em.”
With a hasty hand pressure for both youths Jed Prentiss scurried away, intent on reaching his Nantucket home at the earliest possible moment.
Captain Tom had stepped around so that the bush was between himself and the hotel entrance. Hank followed.
“Shall I go on board and look about at the new job?” queried Hank Butts.
“Yes,” nodded Tom, instantly adding: “By hokey—no!”