“Got your luggage in the boat alongside?” he asked, at length.
“No. It's at the station.”
“Then let me send a hand ashore for it. Got three Germans furard. You'll come aboard and see this thing through, I hope.”
“Thank you,” answered Cartoner. He handed Captain Cable the ticket for his luggage.
“Mate's receipt?” inquired the captain.
And Cartoner nodded. The captain pushed the decanter towards his guest as he rose to go and give the necessary orders.
“No stint of the wine,” he said, and went out on deck.
When he came back he laid the whole question aside, and devoted himself to the entertainment of his guest. They both slept in the afternoon. For the captain had been up all night, and fully expected to see no bed the following night.
“If they come down with the tide we'll go to sea on the same ebb,” he said, as he lay down on his state-room locker and composed himself to sleep.
He sent the hands below at ten o'clock, saying he would keep the anchor watch himself. He wanted no forecastle gossip, he said to Cartoner, and did not trouble to explain that he had kept the watch three nights in succession on that account. Cartoner and he walked the deck side by side, treading softly for the sake of the sleepers under deck. For the same reason, perhaps, they were silent.