"Well, I guess maybe I can ask the captain to. He's boss here. I'm only one of the crew."
"Regular ship rules you have around here; eh?" asked the man.
"Something like that—yes," answered Sig. "In winter we all live here at the station, and the captain is in charge. In the summer I live inland, and come on duty at night. But the full crew is here now and—well, I'll see if I can get you anything. Sit down."
The ragged man sat down on the bench outside the coast guard station, while Sig went to find the captain.
Besides the house in which the captain, his wife and the crew lived at the Belemere life-saving station, there was another building in which was stored the motor life-boat, and other things, by means of which passengers and crews were taken off vessels that might go ashore on the beach.
Some of the crew were working about the boat now—painting her and others were looking over the ropes and the bomb-gun by which a line is shot out to a vessel when it is too rough to use the boat. The captain was in the cottage writing out some reports he had to send to Washington.
"There's a man outside who wants something to eat," said Sig to Captain White.
"What sort of a man is he?"
"Looks like a tramp, but I guess he's been a sailor to judge by his walk."
"Oh, well, we can't turn anyone away hungry; eh, Mother?" he asked his wife, who was busy in the kitchen.