“What was he afraid of? That we might shoot ourselves?”
“I don’t think that was it,” replied George. “He’s afraid one of us might blaze away at the first person who came on board, and make an awful mess of the wrong party.”
“That would be awkward, for the wrong party. After all, I’d rather depend on this stick. I’d pity any one who got a real crack from it. I was thinking just now, though, George, it mightn’t be a bad idea to tell the police what’s happened.”
“Oh, they’d only laugh at us.”
“Why?”
“Well, because. We’ve got nothing to tell them, really. A man came aboard one night and tore his clothes on a nail. What about it? They’d tell you nobody could be arrested for that.”
Jack drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the top of the table.
“I don’t care whether they laugh or not,” he said at length. “I’m going to report what happened. Maybe they can see further through a brick wall than I can. That’s what they’re for. I’m going now. Coming up with me?”
George reached for his shoes, and three minutes later the boys were on their way to the police station. In the grim and unfamiliar surroundings of the chief’s office, where the boys were received, Jack felt a little less sure of himself.
“What can I do for you?” asked the officer.