“Make a man's try, sir, before I let 'em dump us. We can always go fishing. But there's only one Conomo.”
“I'll stay. It's only fair to you to have your chance ashore. And I've got an almighty good rifle aboard that schooner,” stated the skipper. “Send it to me by one of the men.”
“You may need it,” stated Captain Mayo, with grim set to his jaw. “You come with me. I want to show you a bird that flew aboard here the other day.”
Outside the stateroom door he halted Captain Candage, who was following on his heels, taking Mayo's statement literally, and showing only mild interest.
“Captain Candage, your man, Art Simpson, is in this stateroom. He came out here on a tug with a bag of dynamite, and intended to blow up this wreck.”
“Gawd-a-mighty, ain't they going to stop at anything?” croaked the old skipper.
“It's about time for us to find out how much of this is reckless devilishness on the part of hired men and how much the big men really know of what is being done on this coast, sir. And that's why I'm holding this man Simpson.”
“Let me at him!” pleaded Candage. “I'll crack his shell for him! I'll get at his meat!”
Mayo unlocked the door and walked in.
“Simpson, you—” bawled the old skipper, and then halted in confusion, his mouth wide open.