Nevertheless, Dave Baldwin passed that night in a prison cell and appeared before the judge next morning with the certainty confronting him that he would be remanded to appear before the higher court on the grave charge of being an incendiary.
And it seemed improbable that bail would be offered for the prisoner, so that he would be allowed out of jail in the mean time.
Yet bail was forthcoming. A massive, weatherbeaten figure, well known in this part of Essex County, stood up in court declaring that he was ready and willing to sign the prisoner’s bail bonds. It was Captain Andy Davis.
And when all formalities had been gone through, when the prisoner was liberated until such time as his case should come up for trial, Captain Andy took him in tow.
“You come along home with me, Dave!” he commanded. “I’m going to put it up to you straight whether you want to live a man’s life, or not.”
And so he did that evening.
“I’ve been wanting to get hold of you for some time, Dave Baldwin,” said the sea-captain. “Your father an’ I were shipmates together on more’n one trip. He was a white man, brave an’ hard-working; it’s hard for me to believe that there isn’t some o’ the same stuff in his son.”
The youthful ne’er-do-weel was silent. Captain Andy slowly went on: —
“As for the matter of this fire, I don’t believe you started it on purpose. I doubt if the policemen who arrested you do! It’s your past record that’s against you. Now! if I see the district attorney, Dave Baldwin,” Captain Andy’s eyes narrowed meditatively under the heavy lids, “and succeed in getting this case against you nol prossed—I guess that’s the term the lawyer used—it means squashed, anyhow, do you want to start over again an’ head for some port worth while?”
“Nobody would give me the chance,” muttered the younger man huskily.