The captain bit his lip, but said no more, and the party stepped into the boat. They soon reached the Bertha Hamilton, and all climbed aboard. The first officer was standing near the rail.
"Come aft and report to me after supper, Mr. Ditty," ordered the captain brusquely.
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the mate.
As soon as supper was over and Ruth had gone to her stateroom the captain started to go on deck, but Tyke put his hand on his arm.
"Going to give Ditty a dressing down, I suppose," he remarked.
"He's got it coming to him," snapped Captain Hamilton.
"He surely has," agreed Tyke. "But have you thought that perhaps that's jest what he wants you to do?"
The captain sat down heavily.
"Get it off your chest, Tyke," he said. "Tell me what you mean."
"I mean jest this," said Tyke. "Often there's trouble in the wind that never comes to anything because the feller that's brewing it don't git a chance to start it. He fiddles 'round waiting for an opening; but if he don't find it the trouble jest dies a natural death.