“How do you mean?” he asked.
“I watched ’em, watched ’em close, too, when they heard you’d been blown out to sea,” said Cap’n Crumbie. “An’ if I ever seed a case of genooine sorrow in a feller’s face, it was then.”
“Really!” said Jack, a little puzzled. He still had a painfully vivid memory of having been held down to the floor of the cabin by the throat and almost choked to death. “You can’t always go much by looks, though.”
“It wasn’t only their looks,” said the Cap’n, shaking his head solemnly. “It was Hegan’s idea to start a subscription to pay Barker for the hire of his old tug to go and save you. And Martin offered to chip in, too. They meant it, all right. In another minute or two we’d ha’ been handing that shark Barker the thirty dollars he asked for before he’d send the tug out. But just then Tony came along and paid Barker out of his own pocket.”
“How funny!” said Jack, with a perplexed frown. “I’m glad you told me. Next time they come along I must thank them for it. They were both down on the wharf yesterday, but I was pretty busy and they didn’t speak.”
“It just shows you,” observed the watchman, “how you can be mistaken in folks.”
“Ye-es,” said Jack, a trifle doubtfully. Then, “Hello, here they come,” he added.
Hegan and Martin strolled to the edge of the wharf and looked down on the deck of the Sea-Lark.
“Good morning,” said Jack. “Cap’n Crumbie has been telling me about your being kind enough to start a subscription for the tug when we were blown out to sea. It was awfully kind of you.”