The squire tried to reply, but could only choke and sputter.
“Nothing of any consequence, eh?” he groaned. “Oh, my head! O-h-h! If I die I hope they’ll indict John Hart for murder, and hang Ed Sanders for criminal negligence. Nothing of any consequence—but I know I’ll never live to see the end of this voyage.”
The squire’s agitation was not abated with the rounding of the head of the island; for, with this, what slight sea was running was soon broadside on, so that it rolled the Viking from side to side—not roughly, but enough to cause him untold misery.
Finally, at John Hart’s solicitation, he was induced to return to the outer air, where he sat, wrapped up in two heavy blankets, shivering, and with his teeth chattering, although the day was exceedingly hot.
When, at the close of the afternoon, they had arrived at Mayville, the squire had had enough yachting. He staggered ashore and took a carriage to the hotel, rather than spend the night aboard the Viking.
“Well, sir,” said John Hart, some time the next forenoon, when the squire, improved in appearance and temper, had come down to the dock, “when do you expect that yachting party to arrive?”
“What yacht—” began the squire. He had forgotten for the moment the alleged object of the trip to Mayville. “Oh, you mean my party?” he said. “Why, they won’t be here until night. I won’t need you two at all to-day. You can have the day off. Here’s fifty cents to buy both of you your dinners. You needn’t come back until night.”
“Well,” said Ed Sanders as he and John Hart departed from the dock and went on up the main street of Mayville, “I thought the squire wasn’t hurt much by that bump he got yesterday in the cabin, but I declare if I don’t think it injured his brain. Did you ever know of his giving anybody fifty cents before?”
“No, never did,” answered John Hart; “but if getting seasick has that effect on him, we’ll make him sick every time he goes out. Next southerly we get, with the tide running out, we’ll sail into the worst chop-sea we can find and give him a dollar’s worth.”
Squire Brackett, however, watched them disappear with a satisfaction equal to theirs. He rubbed his hands like a money-changer, and stepped from the wharf aboard the Viking with the assurance of a buccaneer. He almost imagined he was a sailor when a man on the wharf accosted him.