“Why? Too thick to make the harbor to-night.”
“Ask him, Charlie,” said Wesley, “what kind of a man he holds himself that he’s afraid to make a harbor to-night?” Which Charlie did, in a tone that Wesley could never have achieved.
“Who in the devil are you that’s so all-fired smart?” queried Glover. “Who’re you, anyway?”
“Give him your own name, Charlie,” said Wesley, and Charlie did. “Lord, but you do put up a pert twist with your voice, Charlie. If a man was to talk to me like that, I’d run him down.”
“Charlie Green? I never heard of you afore—nor nobody else aboard here. What vessel is that?” came from Glover.
“Never mind what vessel. Whatever vessel’s here I’m not too frightened to put her into Canso to-night.”
“That so? You’re the devil and all, ain’t you? And when are you goin’ in?”
“Right away.”
“That so? And maybe you’ll show me the way?”
“Yes, if you ain’t too scared to follow. And I’ll have a good story to tell when we get to Gloucester—not alone being scared to go in, but too scared even to follow behind when another man shows you the way.”