He sat on the bunk in Mr. Briggs’s cabin, with the mate leering at him from a corner chair, and miserably considered his own plight. There didn’t seem to be any way out. Jerry James could not move from his bed for another day or two, so there was no help there. And here he was, a prisoner!
There wasn’t any way in the world for him to reach Mr. Kennedy.
Sandy shook his blond head mournfully. Seeing his gesture, the mate read the feeling behind it and said, “If you had the brains you were born with, you’d forget about everything and go to sleep.”
Sandy’s face went cold. He pretended not to have heard, but the mate was not to be denied his favorite pleasure of gloating.
“Ma Kennedy’s little chick’s lost its tongue, eh?” he sneered. “Too bad you ain’t going to see Ma Kennedy before tomorrow night. And by that time, the skipper’ll be the chief captain of the Chadwick-Kennedy Line, and yours truly’ll be a full master.”
Oho, Sandy thought to himself, so that’s the mate’s reward for his treachery. He decided to remain quiet. The talkative Mr. Briggs might give away some more secrets.
“Don’t think you can outwait me,” Mr. Briggs went on. “You’re the one who needs the sleep—not me. While you heroes was battling the storm this afternoon, I was having myself a little rest. So I’m fresh as a daisy.”
Sandy still said nothing.
“And furthermore,” the mate snapped, plainly nettled, “even if I did doze off, it wouldn’t help you.” He tapped his breast pocket. “The key to that there door is tucked away in here. You’d have to kill me to get it.”
Sandy smiled, and the mate lost his temper.