“Ay, ay, sir!” assented Mr. Speed, giving the resisting Dolph a violent shove.
When Captain Candage began to curse, Captain Mayo showed that he had a voice and vocabulary of his own. He fairly roared down the master of the Polly.
“Now shut up!” he ordered the dumfounded skipper, who faced him, mouth agape. “This is no time for any more foolishness. It's a case of work together to save our lives. Down with 'em, boys!”
“That's right,” declared the mate. “She don't need much of anything on her except a double-reefed mitten with the thumb brailed up.”
The wind had not attained the velocity of a gale, but it did have an ugly growl which suggested further violence. Mayo braced himself, ready to bring the schooner about in order to give the crew an opportunity to shorten sail.
Captain Candage, deposed as autocrat for the moment, seemed to be uncertain as to his duties.
Mayo, understanding mariner nature, felt some contrition and was prompted by saner second thought.
“You'd better take the wheel, Captain Candage. You know her tricks better than I do in a seaway. I'll help the boys take in sail.”
The master obeyed with alacrity. He seemed to be cowed. Anger no longer blinded him to their predicament.
“Just say what you want done, and I'll try to do it,” he told Mayo, in a voice which had become suddenly mild and rather beseeching. Then he called to his daughter, who had come to the foot of the companion steps, “Better blow out that cabin light, Polly girl! She's li'ble to dance bad, and we don't want to run the chance of fire.”