“Hi! Hi-i! Where be ye?”
“He'll wear his lungs out, screamin' that way,” snapped Thankful. “Can't he see the light, for goodness sakes?”
Captain Obed answered. “He couldn't see nothin' unless 'twas hung on the end of his nose,” he said. “That boy's eyes and brains ain't connected. Here, Kenelm,” turning to Mr. Parker, “you go out and tell Win to shut down on his fog whistle; he's wastin' steam. Tell him the women-folks are in here. Look alive, now!”
Kenelm looked alive, but not much more than that.
“All right, Cap'n,” he stammered. “A—a—all right. What—what—shall I say—what shall I—had I better—”
“Thunderation! Do you need a chart and compass? Stay where you are. I'll say it myself.”
He strode to the window, threw it open, and shouted in a voice which had been trained to carry above worse gales than the present one:
“Ahoy! Ahoy! Win! Fetch her around aft here. Lay alongside the kitchen door! D'you hear? Ahoy! Win! d'you hear?”
Silence. Then, after a moment, came the reply. “Yup, I hear ye. Be right there.”
The captain turned from the window.