“Well, how’s business?” Martin asked, addressing Jack the moment he got on board. He spoke in a tone which Jack regarded as a shade too free and easy, considering the length of time they had known each other.
“Very good, thanks,” he replied quietly.
“How much is the fare?” asked Hegan, pulling a handful of coins out of his pocket. “Ten cents? Here’s fifty for you.”
Jack accepted the half-dollar, and handed back the change.
“Only ten cents a head,” he said. “If you want to go for a sail in the harbor you can pay more, of course.”
“That’s a good idea,” declared Hegan. “What d’you say, Martin? A little run round the bay, huh? You won’t be seasick? Go to it, son,” he added, addressing the captain. “We’ll have a full dollar’s worth.”
And as the Sea-Lark sped away, Cap’n Crumbie, standing on the edge of the wharf, with his hands jammed down into his pockets, and his eyes on the little craft slipping into the distance, shook his head slowly and soberly.
“Now, I wonder where I’ve seen that chap Hegan afore,” he muttered. “Maybe it was a long time ago, and maybe it wasn’t such a long time. But I’ve seen him afore, somewhere.”
Meanwhile, with exaggerated friendliness, Hegan was endeavoring to gain a friendly footing with the crew of the sloop.
“Nothing like a sail on the briny for your health,” he declared. “My friend Martin talked about buying a boat some time since, but he’s changed his mind now. Says he might be going back to New York before long, and he couldn’t take it along with him. I’d like to see him trying to navigate a sloop o’ this size up Broadway. Ha, ha! Well, well, you boys certainly are three good sailors! And a very nice boat you have here, too. We must come for a sail in her again. We’ve nothing to do just now—on a vacation, you know. This boat must be thirty feet long. A good broad beam, too. And I’ll bet she has a nice little cabin. Come down and have a peek below deck, Martin.”