Turning away, Stowell walked slowly to the further end of the bay, and as slowly back again. A new scheme had occurred to him—something better than a fishing-boat, far better. He was now more sure than ever that the Almighty was using him for His righteous ends since even his failures of memory were helping him.
By the time he returned the auction was over. The pier was empty and nobody was in sight except the Irish Captain who was standing on the deck of his ship by the side of the cabin companion. After looking to right and left, Stowell saluted him.
"Where are you going to when you leave Peel, Captain?"
"To Castletown, Sir."
"And from there?"
"To wherever the dust" (the money) "looks brightest."
"May I come aboard, Captain? I have something to say to you."
"Shure!"
After another look to right and left, Stowell stepped on to the steamer and followed the Captain to his cabin.
When he came on deck, half-an-hour later, his face was flushed.