“Aye, aye, sir,” returned Ned, pleasantly.
“I’ll hev the law, remember! You can’t sail from the harbor till you’ve given up my property!” roared the exasperated Mexican.
“Mebbe,” repeated my father, again, as he turned indifferently away.
But I saw trouble brewing and resolved to head it off.
“Captain Marrow,” I said, politely, with a motion to Ned to delay his intention, for the mate’s hand was lifted to seize the fellow in his terrible grip, “please allow me to explain this case. A boy—perhaps it was your runaway—did indeed board us at Chelsea, as you say; but my father, Captain Steele, did not discover his presence until we were at sea. Then we were obliged to carry him on here, where he was put upon the dock. I assure you I saw him bolt for the land as fast as he could go.”
This was true in fact, as I had sent Joe on an errand. I did not relate, of course, that the boy had quickly returned, but my tale seemed to impress Marrow and explain why Captain Steele had so recklessly sneered at his demands, as if wilfully defying the marine law. “If you make haste, sir,” I continued, very courteously, “you may still be able to lay hands on the boy, who I am sure has no money to take him any distance from Philadelphia.”
Marrow looked at me shrewdly.
“Did Joe say anything about me, or about money?” he asked.
“Not a word, sir,” answering the last question. “But I advise you to make haste. And you must forgive Captain Steele for his abrupt answers, caused by what he considered the insolence of your demand and the knowledge that you are in the wrong in threatening to hold his ship. You know, sir, it would cost you heavily to do this, when the court found you were unable to prove your case.”
This argument decided the man. He swore a nasty oath and stamped his foot in futile rage; but he at once left the ship to be rowed ashore, and that was the last we saw of him.