“There’s more suspected than these words tell,” the skipper declared.
“’Tis by sheer good luck, Skipper George,” said the clerk, “that we’ve a vessel t’ take home. I tell you, b’y,” said he, flushing with suspicion and rage, “I don’t trust Tom Tulk. He’d sell his mother for a slave for a thousand dollars.”
“Tom Tulk!” Skipper George exclaimed. “By thunder!” he roared, “Tom Tulk has blowed!” 264
For the second time that day the rat-like little clerk of the Black Eagle bared his teeth––now with a little snarl.
“They’ve no proof,” said the skipper.
“True,” the clerk agreed; “but they’s as many as two lost jobs aboard this vessel. They’ll be two able-bodied seamen lookin’ for a berth when the Black Eagle makes St. John’s.”
“Well, Tommy Bull,” said the skipper, with a shrug, “’tis the clerk that makes prices aboard a tradin’ schooner; and ’twill be the clerk that will explain in this particular case.”
“Huh!” Tommy Bull sneered.
Next day the Black Eagle, with her fish again aboard, put to sea and sped off on a straight course for St. John’s. Notwithstanding the difficulties in store, clerk and skipper were in good humour with all the world (except Tom Tulk); and the crew was never so light-hearted since the voyage began. But as the day drew along––and as day by day passed––and as the home port and Sir Archibald’s level eyes came ever nearer––the skipper grew troubled. Why should the Black Eagle have been ordered home? Why had Sir Archibald used that mysterious and unusual word “forthwith” with such emphasis? 265 What lay behind the brusque order? Had Tom Tulk played false? Would there be a constable on the wharf? With what would Sir Archibald charge the skipper? Altogether, the skipper of the Black Eagle had never sailed a more disquieting voyage. And when the Black Eagle slipped through the narrows to St. John’s harbour he was like a dog come home for a thrashing.