“Collected it in advance!” curtly returned the other. “Made sure of it, seeing as how I didn’t know the man who chartered me, claiming he bought up the cannery output! After this I’m taking no chances. I’ll be loading lime and bricks, taking damnation good pains to be sartain the bricks ain’t hollow. But what in time-mighty did you tell the prohibition feller? I take it you turned the stuff over to him.”
“I told him nothing which hitches you and your schooner up with the case. If anybody says anything to you on guesswork or hearsay, merely chew a toothpick and look innocent.”
“Aye! And stupid. That’ll be easy for a coaster skipper.”
“Captain Coombs, I did not tell him I had salvaged something very important—something outside a booze cargo. No hint to him about what the special salvage was. He wouldn’t understand, anyway. As for you, I needn’t waste talk on what it was.”
Captain Coombs leaned forward and plucked a strand from the frayed end of a halyard. His movement concealed his countenance. He mumbled, twisting the yarns, “Deep-water fellers best not blow long-winded speeches to cool off nice, warm porridge.”
“Where’s your next lading port, sir?” asked Captain Bent.
“Dumbo lime quarry, captain.”
“I am headed that way. I’ll tow you.”
“But it’ll be putting you out, and then⸺”
“I’m heading for Dumbo, I tell you, sir,” said Captain Bent. “I’m going ashore with that woman and her children and I’ll be putting matters shipshape and A-1. Canner Wallace needs a good story to account for his name on canned hooch. Also, perhaps I can do something sensible in the case of those Crusaders.”