Ben’s face brightened, but he hesitated. “I’ve sure been lost without a machine,” he declared. “But I hate to take yours. You know what happened to my watch. This shack isn’t safe. Anyone might come in here and steal it.”
“It’s only an old typewriter, Ben. I’m willing to take a chance. I’ll see that you get the machine within a day or so.”
The former reporter stepped to the stove to turn the bacon. He kept his face averted as he said: “Penny, you’ve been a real friend—the only one. That day when you met me—well, I didn’t give a darn. I was only one step from walking off a dock.”
“Don’t say such things, Ben!” Penny warned. “You’ve had a run of hard luck, but it’s changing now. Suppose you tell me what you learned about the Snark.”
“Nothing too startling, so don’t get your hopes up,” Ben grinned.
He set out two cracked plates on the battered table, two cups for coffee, and then dished up the bacon and a few fried potatoes. It was a meagre supper, but not for the world would Penny have offended Ben by refusing to share it.
“Now tell me about the Snark,” she urged again, as Ben poured the coffee.
“I’ve been watching the boat at night, Penny. Queer things go on there.”
“We suspected that after seeing Webb pitched overboard.”
“I’ve seen a lot of men come and go from that vessel,” Ben resumed. “It’s a cinch they couldn’t all be employed on her, because the Snark has been out of service for months.”