“McGlory? What were you thinking of? Where'd he go?” Beveridge was on his feet.
“No use, Bill; sit down. It 'll take a steamer to catch him.”
“You didn't stand there and let him sail off.”
“Wait 'll I tell you. I was back a little way, where the pier narrows, so's he couldn't slip by through the lumber. The schooner he was on, the—the—”
“Schmidt,” put in Pink.
“The Schmidt was on the south side, the—the—”
“Merry Anne” said Pink, “—was on the north. There's a south wind, you see. And the first thing I knew I heard the tackle creaking off to the left. Thinks I, that's from the Merry Anne, only there ain't a soul aboard her. I ran out and looked, and sure enough, there she was, with two or three men hauling away on the sails.”
“And you didn't stop 'em?”
“How could I, Bill? You see, they'd cut the ropes and let her drift off down the wind. She was a hundred feet out before they made a move.”
“But what were they doing on the Merry Anne?”