“She will wait for you, sir. It's the nature of women to wait—when they love.”
“But I cannot ask her to wait forever. That's why I must go away and try to make good.” He set his teeth, and his jaw muscles were ridged. “I believe a man can get what he goes after in the right spirit, Miss Polly.” He swing off the porch and left her.
The fog was heavy on shore and sea that day, holding the Ethel and May in port. He disappeared into the stifling mist, and the girl sat and stared into that vacancy for a long time.
Mayo rowed out to the schooner, which was anchored in the harbor roads. He was carrying his accounts to Captain Candage.
Standing and facing forward as he rowed, he came suddenly upon a big steam-yacht which had stolen into the cove through the fog and was anchored in his course. She was the Sprite, and he had formed a 'longshore acquaintance with her skipper that summer, meeting him in harbors where the Sprite and Olenia had been neighbors in the anchorage. He stopped rowing and allowed the dory to drift. He noted that the blue flag was flying at the main starboard spreader, announcing the absence of the owner, and he understood that he could call for the skipper without embarrassing that gentleman. One of the crew was putting covers on the brasswork forward.
“Compliments to Captain Trott, and tell him that Captain Mayo is at the gangway.”
The skipper appeared promptly, replying to the hail before the sailor had stirred. “Come aboard, sir.”
“I'll not bother you that much, captain. I can ask my question just as well from here. Do you know of any good opening for a man of my size?”
The captain of the Sprite came to the rail and did not reply promptly.
“I have left the Olenia and I'm looking for something.”