"Yas. You can't get ashore before morning, and by that time the White Squall will be miles and miles at sea. It'll be two years, mebbe three, before she makes this port again, and like as not there won't be a single man in her crew that she took away with her. Then where'll your witnesses be to prove that you was shanghaied, and that the mate knocked you down and beat you with a rope's end?"
Roy backed toward the nearest bunk, sat down upon it and took a long and hearty drink of the hot coffee before he made any reply. He had comforted himself with the mental assurance that it would be an easy matter for him to bring the master of the White Squall to justice, but now he discovered that there were difficulties in the way.
"Law ain't made for the poor chaps that sail the high seas, but for landsmen," said the one who gave him the coffee. "Sailor-men ain't got no use for it, for nobody cares for them. I've heard enough about that ship and her cap'n to know that I shouldn't like to sail on her, and I tell you that you was mighty lucky to get away with a whole skin. The mate knocked you over while you was trying to cast off your boat; then what happened?"
"I made a dash for the other side of the ship and went overboard," answered Roy. "The mate made a grab for me, and besides tearing the sleeve out of my shirt he must have given my arm an awful wrench, for I can hardly lift that pot of coffee with it. There isn't any danger that she will stop and take me off this boat, is there?"
The light-ship men chuckled and winked at each other as though they thought Roy had said something amusing.
"Bless your simple heart! She's hull down before this time," one of them remarked. "You don't think that a ship that has been loaded and waiting for two or three weeks would stop to pick up a deserter, do you? and him a landsman that don't know one side of the deck from t'other? You'll never see the White Squall again less'n you stay here and look for her. What sort of clothes is them, any way, that you just took off? Looks something like a rowing rig, but 'tain't."
Roy replied that it was a bicycle uniform, and then went on to tell his story, hoping that the mention of Rowe Shelly's name might lead the men to give him some information concerning the runaway. They lived but a short distance from his island home, and Roy thought it possible they might know him; but he very soon became satisfied that they didn't. They held little communication with the people on the neighboring islands, all their supplies, as well as the limited number of papers they read, being received from the mainland, and they did not act as though they had ever heard of Rowe Shelly before; but they showed Roy very plainly that there were some portions of his narrative they found it hard to believe. One of them turned on his heel with the remark that the wind didn't "blow to do any hurt," that there was no need of anybody "going aboard a ship for shelter on such a night" as that one was, and went on deck to see how things were going there; while the other, with the suspicion of a smile about his mouth, said to Roy:
"You're getting kinder white around the gills. Hadn't you better lay down in that there bunk before it gets worse on you? That's my advice."
"I do feel rather queer, that's a fact," answered the boy. "I suppose the pounding and swim together were too much for me."
"Yas; I reckon they were. But you'll be all right after a while."