Glover, ever wide awake, was on deck in an instant. It was a man in a boat and looking tired. “Captain Marrs, did you say?” asked Glover.
“Yes, sir— Captain Wesley Marrs.”
“Why, he was here, but he’s gone.”
“Been gone long?”
“Oh, two days now.”
The messenger looked discouraged. “Did he say where he was going to, sir?”
“Why, yes—but you look froze up. Come aboard. You don’t never take a little touch of anything—something nice and warm from Saint Peer—something that’ll melt the frost inside your chest afore you know you got it down—or do you? On a cold day like this,” insinuated Captain Glover, “with frost in the air and maybe a long row ahead of you.”
“It is more than a common cold day,” assented the messenger.
“Cold day! I should say! Why, I don’t know how you ever stood it comin’ as far away as you did—ten miles, did you say you came?”
“Ten mile? Ten mile?” snorted the messenger.