"But he said some things about getting ten thousand dollars for losing his ship and so on, Uncle Jim, and I heard more than you did. He was worried to death for fear he had talked too much. The wrecking business in Key West is square and honest as far as I know, but ship captains have put their vessels on the Reef on purpose in the old days and the wreckers helped plan it beforehand. And I can't help wondering if Jerry Pringle came to Pensacola to fix up a deal with this captain of the Kenilworth to lose his ship on the next voyage out from London to Vera Cruz. There would be rich salvage and loot in a general cargo, wouldn't there? She's a mighty big steamer."
Captain Jim stroked his chin and was so long silent that Dan began to fidget. Then, as if rousing himself from some very interesting reflections, the elder man drawled in a tone of mild reproof:
"There isn't a bit of evidence that would hold water, Dan. I may have my suspicions, but perhaps they are all wrong, and if we said a word it might ruin a good ship-master with his owners. Jerry Pringle and he must have been up to their ears in conversation when they let us run 'em under, and I wish the big Englishman could prove an alibi for the time we had him, aboard. Better forget it."
Dan bit his lip and appeared so gloomy and forlorn that his uncle was moved to ask what troubled him.
"It's Bart Pringle," said Dan, and his voice was not quite steady. "When I meet him in Key West I'll have a secret to hold back from him, and it's about his own father. Oh, I can't believe there's anything to it. And there's Bart's mother! Well, I think I'll turn in, Uncle Jim. Good-night."
Late in the next afternoon the Resolute cast off from the coal wharf and swiftly picked up headway as her powerful engines began to urge her, with tireless, throbbing cadence, toward her distant home port of Key West. Presently she surged past a long, deep-laden cargo steamer from whose stern rippled the flaming British ensign. It was the Kenilworth, and Captain Jim and Dan Frazier stared at her with curious interest.
A tall, broad-shouldered, brown-bearded figure was leaning against the railing of her bridge. A strip of bandage gleamed white beneath the visor of his cap. He flourished an arm in farewell to the Resolute whose deep-toned whistle returned a salute of three blasts.
Dan passed by the wheel-house door on an errand for the mate and could not help saying aloud to himself: