“There it is,” replied Jack, pointing off on the port bow to a blur on the coast which was rendered vague by the slight haze.
“All right. You don’t mind going up as far as that, do you?”
Jack hesitated a moment. The wind was so light now that it would barely be sufficient to carry them back over the tide, and Greenport harbor was fully seven or eight miles off.
“This is no power-boat, you know,” he said, endeavoring to meet the wishes of the men in good part. “And I don’t like that haze, either. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if there was a regular fog soon. I think we’ll turn back.”
Hegan walked aft with his companion at his heels.
“Nothing doing!” he said in a tone which astounded the skipper. “Keep her going just as she is till you get orders from me.”
“Orders!” Jack repeated. “If you talk like that I’ll dump you both out on the nearest beach and leave you to get back as well as you can.”
“No you won’t,” said Hegan with an ugly expression, drawing a small but wicked-looking revolver from his coat pocket and pointing it at Jack.
“[Put that thing down and stop your nonsense!]” said Jack, furious at such a liberty being taken. Rodney, taken aback for a moment by the suddenness of the men’s change of front, recovered his self-possession and quietly reached down to the mast rail for one of the belaying-pins.
