The captain looked his questioner over. There was a doubtful look on his face, and he smiled quizzically.
“Graves is my name.”
“I don’t know, Mr. Graves. This ain’t goin’ to be a pleasure cruise exactly. You might get pretty wet.”
“I don’t care. I can get dry again when I get there. Of course I shall share the expense of the livery. I shall be greatly obliged if I may go with you. If not, I must try for a rig myself.”
“Oh, if you feel that way about it, why, come ahead and welcome. I was only warnin’ you, that’s all. However, with me aboard for ballast, I guess we won’t blow away. Wait a jiffy till I get after Pete.”
He entered the ticket office and raised a big hand to the little crank of the telephone bell.
“Let’s see, Caleb,” he called; “what’s Shattuck’s number?”
“Four long and two short,” answered the station master.
Graves, wondering vaguely what sort of telephone system was in use on Cape Cod, heard his prospective pilot ring the instrument for a full two seconds, repeating the ring four times altogether. This he followed with two sharp tinkles. Then came a series of shouted “Hellos!” and, at last, fragments of one-half of a dialogue.