“And I say, heave to and let that motor-boat take me off,” insisted Mayo.
Captain Candage leaned close enough to note the yacht skipper's uniform coat. “Who do you think you're ordering around, you gilt-striped, monkey-doodle dandy?”
“That motor-boat is coming after me.”
“Think you're of all that importance, hey? No, sir! It's a pack of 'em chasing me to make me go back into port and be sued and libeled and attached by cheap lawyers.”
“You ought to be seized and libeled! You had no business ratching out of that harbor in the dark.”
“Ought to have taken a rising vote of dudes, hey, to find out whether I had the right to h'ist my mudhook or not?”
“I'm not here to argue. You can do that in court. I tell you to come into the wind and wait for that boat.”
“You'd better, Cap Candage,” bleated Oakum Otie. “This is—”
“Shut up! I'm running my own schooner, Mr. Speed.”
“But he is one of the—”