He went aboard the ship, putting all hands to the work of clearing and reloading the sloop. Mr. Cottrill met him at the gangway with word that two of their best men had deserted from the trading-booth, taking with them about fifty pounds’ worth of goods; that they had gone off at sunset, just as the sloops cast off; and that one of the men aboard had heard that they were going for a run with a gang of Indian-snatchers. Worse still. The foretopmast was sprung at the heel, and the new spar couldn’t be ready for a week. Cammock had been at a driving strain for a couple of days; but, like most hard cases, he found the second day a day of exaltation, of nervous excitement. The news pleased him; it occupied his mind. He bade his men get out trade from all three hatches as fast as the winches could sway it out, while he with a dozen men went ashore in the sloop, still half full of tobacco.
As soon as he got ashore he struck the booth, crammed all the goods into the sloop, lock, stock, and barrel, and carried them back aboard. As they were thrust into the sloop he made a rough inventory.
“Now, Mr. Cottrill,” he said, “just take this list and check it as soon as you’ve got a chance. Then check it with the trade-book, and find out what’s missing. Then check that with the clerk’s list. Rig up an awning from the break of the poop to the mast there. That’ll be your trade booth. Call the trade clerk. Call Mrs. Inigo. Mr. Harthop, you’ll keep your trade booth here in future. Mrs. Inigo, you’ll have to give up your berth in the sail-locker. See to that, Mr. Cottrill. Mrs. Inigo’ll sleep in the steward’s room. The steward’ll have to go into the round-house. Mr. Harthop, you’ll use the sail-room, where Mrs. Inigo’s been sleeping, as your sample-room. See that no one goes up the alleyway to the cabin. Keep a clear gangway from the alley to the companion there. Mr. Cottrill, give Mr. Harthop three hands and let him arrange his shop. He’d better stone out the sail-room after breakfast. Shift your things, Mrs. Inigo. You, too, steward. Mr. Cottrill, pick out three good hands to be under Mr. Harthop. Quiet, steady men. Pick one or two of the boys. Mr. Harthop, what were you doing to let those men away?”
Mr. Harthop, a little, bald jocular man with a pale face and long drooping moustaches, which gave him a sad, Chinese expression, rolled slowly forward, peering under his spectacles.
“I’d gone up to the Governor’s house, sir, with some velvets.”
“Why didn’t you send one of the men? Or wait till trade was over for the day?”
“The Governor’s lady asked me to come, Captain Cammock.”
“Women’ll be the death of this cruise,” said Cammock to himself. “Who was in charge while you were gone?”
“Smale, the boy, Captain Cammock, sir. I was only gone twenty minutes.”
“There it is,” said Cammock. “Smale, how did this happen?”