Mr. Barker put down the pen with which he had been writing, and stared at the watchman in frank astonishment.
“Say, what d’you take me for? A nursemaid?” he demanded when the power of speech returned.
Cap’n Crumbie swallowed his anger, swallowed his pride, and swallowed his desire to tell Barker just what he did take him for.
“P’raps you haven’t noticed,” said the watchman, “there’s quite a bit of a gale coming up. You don’t want them two lads—”
“Get out of here! I’m busy,” snapped Mr. Barker, rudely. And Cap’n Crumbie had no choice but to retire. His face, however, was full of wrath. He could have taken the ship-owner in his gnarled hands and half shaken the life out of him; only that would not have helped matters any.
“Ain’t there some way of sending off help to those kids?” Martin asked when the watchman returned.
“Aye, there would be,” retorted Cap’n Crumbie, boiling over with rage, “if some people had as much feelin’ as a cockroach. That man Barker—” He shook his fist at the little office in which the ship-owner was writing.
“What’s Barker got to do with it?” Hegan asked.
“That’s his tug,” said the Cap’n, bitterly. “I just been across and told him about the sloop, and he’s too dratted mean to send her out.”