The captain fetched out a bundle of bills and a handful of loose silver, laid them on the table, and divided the money into three piles. One he pushed over to his mate and the rest he stowed into his own pocket.
“What’ll I do with all this?” asked George.
“How do I know? Found a college or something. Anyway, drop it into your pocket now. By the way, don’t forget to report on Sunday, in your best uniform, the one with the gold braid on it that I didn’t buy you. The Farnhams are coming out for a sail, and I’ll need your help, Mr. Mate.”
The sloop was tied up each night at Garnett and Sayer’s wharf, where Cap’n Crumbie could see her during his nightly peregrinations. Not that Jack was afraid of her being stolen, for such a thing was unlikely, but there was always the possibility of the youthful element of Greenport scrambling over her and doing damage.
On the morning following Rodney Farnham’s rescue, however, the watchman reported something to the captain of the Sea-Lark which aroused vague misgivings in him.
“What time did you go to bed last night?” asked the Cap’n, eyeing Jack suspiciously.
“About ten o’clock. Why?”
“Umph!” snorted the watchman. “I thought maybe it was you prowling around, having some sort of a joke; and yet I knew it was too late for you to be up to any pranks.”
“Not a prank!” replied Jack. “I was tired and went straight to sleep. You went to bed early too, didn’t you, George?”