CHAPTER XII
FIGHTING A GALE
That night a policeman was placed on Garnett and Sayer’s wharf, in accordance with the chief’s promise, and when Jack and his mate turned in, it was with easier minds. Mr. Holden, after hearing of the attack, endeavored to dissuade Jack from again sleeping on the sloop, but the boy pointed out that, with the regular watchman and a policeman on duty, there was small likelihood of further molestation. Mr. Holden at length agreed, and, as Jack anticipated, they were not disturbed. The captain awoke soon after four o’clock in the morning and, going up on deck, saw the watchman and police officer standing at the edge of the wharf, yarning.
“Well, you haven’t had any more ghosts prowling around, eh?” the policeman laughed as he caught sight of the lad.
“No, and there aren’t likely to be any if we keep tabs on them this way,” replied the boy. “Say, Cap’n Crumbie, I hear that the bluefish have been biting. Where’s the best place to get them?”
“You’re liable to get ’em anywheres outside the breakwater,” the watchman replied. “A chap came in with a big catch yesterday. He said he had to go a good ways out, though. You going fishing?”
“I’d love to,” replied Jack. “And George wants to. I’ve half a mind to slip out for an hour or two before it’s time to begin running the ferry.”
“Don’t go too far,” warned Cap’n Crumbie, craning his neck as he stared upward at the sky. “It’s all right at present, but I shouldn’t be surprised if it came on to blow a mite harder.”
“There’s no wind now, to speak of,” said Jack.
“Not down here,” replied the watchman. “But look at them clouds a mile or so up. ’Tain’t blowing hard, even there, but I’m just telling you to keep your eyes open; see?”