The mate nodded glumly. “Don’t I get nothin’ to eat?” he whined.
“Stop bleating about your blasted belly,” the captain snapped. “I’ll send Cookie in to you. Now, now, hold on! Whoa! What about the other brat? Where’s he?”
“In bed,” the mate said. “He sprained his ankle during the storm.”
“Bad?”
Mr. Briggs grinned evilly.
“Bad enough to keep him in bed.”
“Good,” Captain West said. “Now, get out of here—and don’t let me see your ugly face until we dock in Buffalo. And as for him,” he went on, jerking his head toward Sandy, “I don’t ever want to see his face again!”
Sadly assuring himself that the feeling was mutual, Sandy Steele preceded the mate down the passageway to his cabin.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cookie to the Rescue
Sandy Steele was not a quitter, yet it seemed to him that the game was over and he had lost.