Captain Jim Martel’s anger at being outmanœuvred was not lessened by the figure of Jack Harvey standing up astern and grinning at him derisively. He glared back angrily at the young yachtsmen.
But Harvey’s blood was up, too.
“Why don’t you learn to sail that old tub of yours?” he called out, sneeringly.
Martel’s answer was to put his helm hard down, bring his boat about, and stand up on the track of the Viking.
“Come on, we’ll give you a tow out to sea again,” cried Harvey.
“Go easy, Jack,” said Henry Burns. “He’s the pepperiest skipper I’ve seen in all Samoset Bay. Better let him alone. He’s angry enough already.”
“Yes, but he’s to blame,” said Harvey. “When anybody hits me, I hit back.” And forthwith he made gestures toward the other boat, as of urging it to hurry, by beckoning; and he coiled a bit of the free end of the main-sheet and threw it back over the stern, indicating that it was for the other craft to pick up, so as to be towed by the Viking.
The effect on Skipper Martel was, indeed, amusing. He sprang up from his seat, handed the tiller to one of his boys and rushed forward, where he stood, shaking a fist at the crew of the Viking and calling out angrily.
He made a comical figure, with his black, shaggy head wagging, and with his angry sputtering and his pretence of pursuit, whereas the Viking was leaving the pinkey rapidly astern. Henry Burns joined in the laughter, but he repeated his warning: “Better let him alone, Jack.”
Which warning, now that the skipper of the pinkey strode aft again, Jack Harvey finally heeded.