The man, who shouted something to his companion, seized the halliards; and the sloop drove on again furiously; with an increased spread of canvas, while Carroll stood holding on by the coaming while the boat dropped back.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he informed the new helmsman. “It’s twenty-four hours since I’ve had more than a bite or two of food, and some weeks since I had a decent meal.”
“You look like it,” the other informed him. “Been up against it somewhere?”
Carroll, who did not reply, crawled below and managed to light the stove and make a kettleful of tea. He drank a good deal of it, and nearly emptied the remaining small meat-can, which he presently held out for his companion’s inspection, standing beneath the hatch.
“There’s some tea left, but this is all there is to eat on board the craft,” he said. “You’re hired to take her to Vancouver—and you’d better get there as soon as you can.”
The bronzed helmsman nodded. “She won’t be long on the way if the mast holds up.”
“Have you seen any papers lately?” Carroll inquired. “I’ve been up in the bush and I’m interested in the Clermont mine. It looked as if there might be some changes in the company’s prospects when I went away.”
“I noticed a bit about it in the Colonist a while back,” was the answer. “They sold out to another concern, or amalgamated with it; I don’t remember which.”
Carroll was not astonished. The news, which implied that he must be prepared to face a more or less serious financial reverse struck him as a fitting climax to his misadventures.
“It’s pretty much what I expected, and I’m going to sleep,” he said. “I don’t want to be wakened before it’s necessary.”