"Why—why, yes, I suppose so. But I have seen all that. Mr. Phillips——"
"We aren't helpin' out Phillips now. He isn't askin' help, at least I gather he's satisfied to wait. You get this statement on your own hook, and don't tell him you're gettin' it. Will you?"
"I'll write for it to-night."
"Good! That'll get things started, anyhow. Now is there anything else you want to tell me?"
"No—no, I guess not. But, Cap'n Kendrick, do you honestly think there is a chance for me?"
For an instant his companion lost patience. "Don't ask that again," he ordered. "There is a chance—yes. How much of a chance we can't tell yet. You go home and stop worryin'. You've turned the wheel over to me, haven't you? Yes; well, then let me do the steerin' for a spell."
Kent rose from his chair. He drew a long breath. He looked at the captain, who had risen also, and it was evident that there was still something on his mind. He fidgeted, hesitated, and then hurried forth a labored apology.
"I—I am awfully ashamed of myself, Cap'n Kendrick," he began.
"That's all right, George. We all make mistakes—business mistakes especially. If I hadn't made one, and a bad one, I might not be stranded here in Judah's galley to-night."
"I didn't mean business. I meant I was ashamed of treating you as I have. Ever since that time when—when Elizabeth was here and I came over and—and said all those fool things to you, I—I've been ashamed. I was a fool. I am a fool most of the time, I guess."