"Do you go to the village, Jem!" said Lloyd, quietly. He was in dreadful doubt himself as to whether he was right. But a captain, he knew, never should let his crew see that he was in doubt; and Lloyd knew he must be captain in this case. Jem had legs to run and a tongue to give a message, but he had no head to plan or execute.
"All right!" said Jem, good-naturedly. "I'm off."
When he was gone on the full run, Lloyd stood thinking. There were no men nearer than the village. Whatever he did, he must do alone. He was tired of acting a man's part and doing a man's work, though the other boys often envied him. His head and bones ached most of the time, and he was getting a sober, old, wizened face.
He wished often that he could have a month of downright play and idleness; and no doubt it would have been the very best thing for him. However, now he had to manage all alone.
"I'll go up to supper, or mother will be uneasy," he said at last. He would be back in half an hour, and before that he could do nothing. The wind drove the schooner back, so that she could not reach the rocks under an hour. Lloyd's eyes were sharper than Jem's.
He did not tell his mother about the schooner. She was a little woman, not strong, and she was easily frightened.
Lloyd tried to keep all trouble from her, as he knew his brother John had done when he was living.
She was waiting for him. "Come, sonny, boy. Here's fish for supper, and good corn bread."
Lloyd laughed, and washed his hands. He joked and talked all the time he was eating, though he was terribly anxious about the schooner. He would have liked, too, to have some nourishing tea for his mother, or a warmer dress than the thin one she wore. But John had been a hearty, cheerful fellow, keeping up everybody's heart.
"There's no use shoving trouble on to mother," thought Lloyd.