“No, Jack, no. I ain’t saying Barker had anything to do with it, because, to give him his due, he wasn’t never convicted o’ theft. I b’lieve he’s honest, and if he is, it’s only because he’s too mean to give his time to the Government, in prison.”
The conversation was interrupted by the approach of a stranger, who, after looking across the harbor, addressed the watchman.
“Pardon me,” he said, “but will you tell me where I can find the ferry to East Greenport?”
“There ain’t no ferry, and there ain’t never been one,” replied the watchman, “though ’tain’t for the want o’ customers. Sometimes in the summer I’ve been asked that same question a dozen times a day.”
“How can I get over there?” the stranger asked, looking dubiously at the intervening mile of water. “There is no trolley and it is rather a long way to walk with this grip.”
“A little ways round that corner,” replied the watchman, pointing off the wharf, “you’ll find Hinkley’s stable, and you’ll get a carriage there.”
Cap’n Crumbie watched the man speculatively until he had disappeared, but Jack was looking out at the stretch of water between the wharf and the distant hotel, with a puzzled expression.
“I say, Cap’n,” he said a few moments later, “did you mean it when you said lots of people want to be ferried across to the Point during the summer?”
“Why, yes, son,” replied the watchman. “You never heard me say anything that wasn’t the truth, did you?”
Jack smiled and almost made some reference to the Indian Ocean; but other thoughts were buzzing at the back of his brain.