“The wish does you credit, Tommy,” answered Dan, as he followed Spencer below. “I’ll be right up again, fellows,” he added.
Nelson, on the floor beside the engine, was toiling desperately, the perspiration trickling down his nose. About him lay sections of the brass vaporizer, wrenches, screwdrivers, and nippers. He looked up inquiringly as Dan went by toward the stateroom.
“Oh, she’s about a couple of hundred yards away,” said Dan lightly.
“I’m almost through,” said Nelson. “Keep them off two minutes more, Dan, and I’ll try the engine again.”
“Oh, we’ll keep them off! That’s right, Spencer, my lad, you lie down there and be comfortable. And don’t you worry; old Bluebeard hasn’t got you yet!”
As he went up the steps he turned and called down softly to Nelson:
“Here they are, Nel, coming alongside. But I’ll see that you get your two minutes, so keep agoing.”
The tug’s engine had stopped and she was sliding slowly forward through the water with her bow set for the Vagabond’s port rail. On the forward deck stood the captain of the Henry Nellis, the tugboat captain, and another man, possibly a mate. The cook, a long and much-soiled apron enveloping his portly form, looked on interestedly from the door of the galley. In the wheelhouse was a third hand. On the face of Captain Sauder was a smile of triumph which struck those on the launch as being far more disagreeable than his scowl.
“Pretty smart, weren’t yer?” greeted the captain as the tug floated up. There was no reply, and the captain concluded to attempt sarcasm.
“Real nice of you to stop and wait for us,” he said with a chuckle; “real friendly, I call it.”