“I say again it’s your duty. And I hope the sense of duty comes from my training of you.”
“Sense of duty was sufficiently well pounded in by you, sir.” The cutter commander pressed the button of a buzzer.
Promptly a lieutenant appeared.
“Mr. Blaise, return Captain Coombs aboard his ship.”
The officer saluted smartly, swung about and held the door open for the veteran skipper.
The latter shuffled his rubber boots backward for a few steps, bowed, then went on his way.
Each skipper, by a sly side glance, noted that the other was avoiding a direct meeting of the eyes. It was mariner method of the old school hard-shelled stuff.
Treading along behind the lieutenant, Captain Coombs whistled softly a chantey tune, his visage serene. His manner suggested that he was going from what had been an entirely satisfactory interview.
Executive Officer Todd tapped on Captain Bent’s door and entered. “May I ask orders, sir?”
“When ready, make a tow of it to Portland, Mr. Todd. When inside the cape, drop alongside the tow, make fast to her with breastlines, and take her to our dock. I’ll be on the bridge before we enter harbor.”