He went back to question the captain of the tug for information in regard to the Ethel and May.
“She's in Limeport,” reported the captain, elbows on his window-sill. “Came past her in the inner harbor this morning. You've bit off quite a chunk here, haven't you? We all thought this storm had sluiced her. Made quite a stir up and down the water-front when old Can-dage blew along and reported that she had lived it out.”
“Reckon some of the panic boys are talking in another key about the prospects out here, about now, aren't they?”
“Ain't so sure about that, sir,” stated the towboat man, loafing into an easier attitude.
“Isn't there a feeling on shore that we are likely to make good on this proposition?” There was solicitude in Mayo's voice. He was acutely anxious. On the sentiment ashore depended Captain Candage's success.
“Can't say that I hear of any!”
“But the talk must—”
“There ain't very much talk—not now. It's generally reckoned that this packet is a gone goose and folks are talking about something else.”
“But she is here—she is upright and fast! She is—”
The towboat man was not enough interested to listen to statements concerning the Conomo's condition. “Look-a-here, son,” he broke in, “do you think for a minute that this thing wouldn't have been grabbed up by the real people if there had been any show of a make? I know there isn't a show!”