“And what do you get for all this?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she smiled back at him. “That is, no money—just satisfaction—heaps and heaps of satisfaction.”
“Then,” he looked at her in a puzzling manner, “after you’ve done these acts of kindness, you might run us round to McCargo’s Cove and pick up our small boat. We left it there. You shall be paid in cash for this service,” he added with a laugh.
“And then?” she queried.
“Do you return to the mainland?”
“We must, for fuel and possible passengers.”
“Then we’ll ride there with you. More money!” he laughed happily. “Why, you’ll be rolling in wealth!”
“At least,” she agreed, “we can pay for our fuel, and that’s something!”
As they made the rounds of fishing villages and lodges that day, it was the same old story—worried, anxious faces and whispered rumors of disaster for all of them in the near future. This brought the Wanderer’s crew a harvest of a sort. Lodge guests were anxious to leave the island. It became evident that when the boat headed for Houghton its decks would be lined with paying passengers. This brought a happy smile to the big girl’s face. “Perhaps,” she was thinking, “things will not be so bad after all.”
As for Jeanne, she was the life of the party. Donning a pair of coveralls miles too large for her, she staged a ludicrous dance she called “The Deckhands Promenade.”