“Pity we left the cat-o’-nine-tails out on the boat,” said the second man.
“Three of them came to the cove,” said the man on David’s back. “The other two went away; but this fellow had to go nosing around into other people’s business. I told him to make himself scarce. But not he! Oh no, he had to find out what I was doing. And now I’m going to take him out on the boat and watch me do some fishing.”
There was a laugh at this. “You’ll let him bait your hook, won’t you, Sam?” asked one.
“I’ll let him take the fish off,” Sam retorted. “You fellows row us out, will you?”
The others agreed. The man on David’s back eased his position. “Now,” said he, “you can come along without any fuss or trouble, or you can come with a black eye. Suit yourself; it doesn’t make any difference to me.”
Three to one was greater odds than David cared to tackle. “I’ll go along,” he grunted.
The man got up. David followed. Assuming a care-free manner he walked to the boat and climbed over the high side. A man sat at the oars, and Sam and the two others took seats on the thwarts. The oars dipped in the water, and the dory was rowed out to the smack.
David and Sam went aboard, and the dory with her crew of three rowed away again in the direction of the cove.
“Now,” said Sam, “make yourself comfortable. You’ve found out my business. I’m going to fish for flounders.” And he walked aft and down into the cabin.
David was puzzled. He could understand that this man might have had a grudge against him, even that he might have lost his temper and attacked him as he had; but why should he carry a grudge so far as to make him a prisoner on his fishing-boat?