Sometimes Jack had to be not only skipper but mate also of the good ship Sea-Lark, when his “crew” was otherwise engaged. Now and then Tony Santo needed his son’s assistance in the boat-yard. On one such occasion—it was the day following the rescue of Rodney Farnham—a man entered the shed and addressed the boat-builder.
“Do you rent boats here?” he asked.
“I can let you have a dory if you want to go down the creek,” replied Tony.
The man shook his head impatiently.
“Something larger than that,” he answered. “A sailing-boat, for instance.”
“You can’t do much sailing on the creek,” said the boat-builder. “Why don’t you inquire along the wharves?”
“Why, I was wondering,” was the hesitating reply, “whether you happened to have a little sloop—something I could handle by myself.”
George observed the man curiously. He did not look like a person who would go in for sailing, and, by the same token, he was not particularly prepossessing. He was a little above the average height, and his clothes, though new, did not fit him well. His manner seemed nervous, and he fidgeted with one of the buttons on his coat while talking.
“Nothing just now,” replied Tony.