The two descended into the cabin.
A moment later, Captain Bill’s mate quietly drew the anchor off bottom, took a turn with the rope about the bitts, then stepped to the halyards and raised the foresail a little. The bug-eye drifted out into the current, caught the tide and was carried a way up-stream. The foresail was run up till it was all set. Sam Black had crept cautiously aft to the wheel, and the craft now turned, under headway, and began creeping downstream, slowly.
“Here’s the money,” said Captain Bill, fumbling about in a wallet that he had produced. ”Sit down. Make yourself at home. You’ve had a long walk—”
Artie Jenkins suddenly sprang to his feet.
“You’re drifting, aren’t you, Captain Bill?” he said. “You’re dragging your anchor, I think.”
“No, I guess not,” replied the other. “Sit down. I’ll ask the mate, anyway.”
He stepped to the companion and called out.
“Give her a bit more scope, mate,” he cried. “Guess she is dragging a bit.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” responded the mate, and went on cautiously and quietly raising the foresail. The bug-eye was nearly in mid-stream.
Artie Jenkins suddenly sprang from his seat again, and started for the companion. A powerful hand on his shoulder restrained him.