"Who said he was master of the Kenilworth?" spoke up Jerry Pringle. "You seem to be taking a whole lot of things for granted. He's in no shape to deny it, so call him what you please."
Mr. Pringle looked unhappy and not all at ease, nor had he any thanks to spare for his rescue. Even Dan could perceive how thoroughly disgusted he was over this unlucky meeting with Captain Wetherly who replied:
"Oh, yes, it is Captain Bruce of the Kenilworth, that big English cargo steamer in the stream loaded with naval stores for London. He was pointed out to me in the broker's office this afternoon. Were you coming ashore from his ship when you ran under my bows?"
Hearing his name spoken, the man with the bandaged head tried to raise himself in the bunk and muttered, as if his senses were still confused:
"Malcolm Bruce, if you please, bound home to London, then out to Vera Cruz with a general cargo. Lost at sea, all stove up, and a black, wet night. But I get well paid for losing the rotten old ship. How much is it worth, Pringle? Ha, ha!"
Jerry Pringle's tanned cheek turned a shade or two paler and he forced a hot drink between the other man's lips as if to shut off his speech. The master of the Kenilworth subsided and put his hands to his head while Pringle explained to Captain Wetherly with nervous haste:
"He's jabbering about the loss of his boat that you made hash of. It was nothing but a skiff. It was my fault, I guess. We were busy talking and I kept no lookout. I'll pay him the cost of the boat, Captain Wetherly. So forget it, won't you. If you'll send ashore for a hack I can lug Captain Bruce up to a hotel right away."
"No hurry, is there? Let him rest," said Captain Jim. "Dan here will sit up with him if you want to turn in. Of course you know Dan Frazier, your boy's chum."
Mr. Pringle glanced up at the doorway and looked even more downcast and sullen at recognizing Dan. He nodded at the interested lad and returned: