He was waiting for the tiny sail to swing around and point northward. He was disappointed. He reached for the glass and took a long look—then lowered it, and smiled bitterly. There were two figures seated in the stern of the Captain.
The Schmidt was lying on the south side of the pier; and the wind enabled Dick to come easily up on the opposite side and make fast. It was late in the afternoon, and Dick released the two Swedes, both of whom had families on shore. Then he crossed the pier, between the high piles of lumber, and found Henry sitting quietly, as usual, in his cabin.
To the older man's greeting Dick responded moodily. “I want to talk to you, Henry. What's my reputation, anyhow, among the boys? Do they call me mean, or a driver, or hard to get along with?”
Henry looked at him curiously, and shook his head. “I never heard anything of that sort. Your row with Roche was the only thing, and I guess he was a poor stick.”
“Well, I'm through with McGlory, too.”
“Through with him?” Henry was startled. “You haven't discharged him?”
“No, but I'm going to to-night. I've brought him back here, and he wants to stay, but I won't have him aboard another minute.”
“What's the trouble?”
Dick gave him the whole story, including the conversation between McGlory and Harper up in the straits.
“I don't like the sound of it very well,” said Henry, when he had finished. “Couldn't you get on with him a little longer?”