Mr. Holdfast walked on beside them.
“The captain seems disposed to make trouble,” he said. “He fancies that he is captain of this island, as he was chief officer of the Nantucket. I shall convince him of his mistake.”
“I hope you won’t get into any trouble on my account, Mr. Holdfast,” said Harry, considerately.
“Thank you, my lad; but Tom Holdfast doesn’t propose to let any man walk over him, even if it is his old skipper. Now that the ship is gone, Captain Hill has no more authority here than I have.”
As the captain fell, his head came in contact with a timber with such violence that, combined with his condition, he was forced to lie where he fell for over an hour.
As the boys emerged upon the bluff with the trunk, Clinton, who had just got up, recognized it, and ran up to them, his face beaming with delight.
“Oh, Mr. Vane!” he said, “have you really brought my trunk? You are awfully kind.”
Then they had breakfast—a very plain meal, as might be supposed. Some of the sailors came over from the other camp, and one of them asked Mr. Holdfast if he had seen the captain.
“You will find him on the beach,” answered the mate. “He has been carrying too much sail, I think,” he added, dryly.
After a while the captain picked himself up, and gazed moodily at the wreck, of which so little remained. Then, the events of the morning recurring to him, he frowned savagely, and, turning toward the bluff, he shook his fist angrily in the direction of the mate’s encampment.