It was by then close to midnight. Once the fire had been put out, there had remained the task of clearing away the debris and cleaning up. This had occupied the crew for a few more hours, and Sandy and Jerry had not been happy to hear the grumbles about burned suppers and lost sleep or to see the glances of hostility that were directed their way. Mr. Briggs, it seemed, had been as expert in spreading his falsehoods among the crew as he had been in taking them to Captain West.
Only Sam had remained friendly, and it had been Sam who had brought the order.
“Captain says you two are to report to him right away,” Sam said. He shook his head sadly. “Too bad, boys,” he went on. “If I can read storm signals right, I’d say you were in for it.”
“In for it!” Jerry burst out hotly. “Is that what we get for putting out the fire?”
“Hold it, Jerry,” Sandy said gently, calming his friend down. “That won’t do any good.” He looked at Sam. “I suppose Mr. Briggs is with him?”
Sam seemed surprised. “Now, how do you know that?”
Sandy’s answer was a grim tightening of his lips. On the subject of Mr. Briggs, he did not trust himself to speak. Sandy wondered how much longer he was going to be able to control his temper. It seemed to him that every time either he or Jerry did something they were supposed to do, even something they really needn’t have done, their only reward was some penalty or a leer from Mr. Briggs or an insult from the skipper. What had begun as a high school boy’s dream of a splendid way to spend the summer seemed to be turning into a nightmare. Sandy let out his breath in a deep sigh. He looked at Jerry and was startled to see the sulky expression on his friend’s normally cheerful countenance.
“I’m not going,” Jerry said sullenly.
“Wha-a-at?” Sam said, as though he couldn’t believe his ears. “What did you say, young fellow?”
Before Jerry could reply, Sandy had propelled him up the passageway and out of earshot. He didn’t want their friend Sam to get the notion that they were mutinous.