“I reckon that you and I as gents and master mariners are going to keep mum about her being aboard the Alden?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“The coast-guard crew don't know who she is, and they can't find out. So she can go home and mind her business from this time out. 'Most every woman does one infernal fool thing in her life—and then is all right ever after. But now a word on some subject that's sensible! What are you going to do?”
“Stick my head into the noose. It's about the only thing I can do.”
“But you'll talk up to 'em, of course?”
“I'll play what few cards I hold as best I know, sir. The most I can hope for is to make 'em drop that manslaughter case. Perhaps I can say enough so that they'll be afraid to bring me to trial. As to getting my papers back, I'm afraid that's out of the question. I'll have to start life over in something else.”
“Mayo, why don't you go to the captain's office?” He promptly answered the young man's glance of inquiry. “Julius Marston himself is the supreme boss of that steamship-consolidation business. Bradish gave all that part away, telling about those checks; though, of course, we all knew about Marston before. It is probably likely that Marston gives true courses to his understrappers. If they take fisherman's cuts between buoys in order to get there quick, I'll bet he doesn't know about it. Go to him and tell him, man to man, what has happened to you.”
“There are two reasons why I shall probably never see Mr. Marston,” returned Mayo, grimly. “First, I'll be arrested before I can get across New York to his office; second, I'll never get farther than the outer office. He's guarded like the Czar of Russia, so they tell me.”
“Does his girl know anything about your case?”
“I blabbed it to her—like a fool—when we were in the boat. Why is it that when a man is drunk or excited or in trouble, he'll blow the whole story of his life to a woman?” growled Mayo.