Merrick, Ferral and Carl got aboard the Christina, the Swede cast off the bow moorings, the skipper hauled up the mainsail and jib, and then the Swede threw on the stern rope and jumped aboard. There was a fine breeze, and the little boat tripped out through the harbor in the direction of the government pier.
Ferral and Carl went forward and seated themselves on the top of the cabin. Merrick lingered in the cockpit to talk with Erickson, who had the wheel. The Swede was farther forward, setting another of the jibs.
"How long you knowed dot Merrick feller, Tick?" queried Carl.
"About a day and a half. Why?"
"His looks don'd make some hits mit me; und I don'd like der Norvegian or der Svede, neider."
Ferral laughed.
"Why, Carl," said he, "you can't smoke a fellow's roll on such a short acquaintance."
"I ged some hunches ven I see vat I don'd like, und I got all kindts oof hunches, righdt now, dot somet'ing is crooked. Meppy dot Merrick feller shmokes your roll—der vone vat you got in your bocket."
"Belay, Carl! You'll like Merrick after you know him a little better. I'll admit he's not exactly my style, but he's no beachcomber. If anything happened, why, there's two of us to three of them, and we could put up a pretty stiff set-to. But South Chicago and the Hawk loom pretty large in my glass, just now, and I haven't got time to think of much of anything else."
Just at that moment a doubled-up form pushed out of the cuddy into the cockpit. As the form straightened, and turned around so as to face forward, Carl went off the cabin at a jump and gave a yell.