"Feared?"—with a sneer.
"Feared o' what?" asked the black man.
"Oh, I dunno. I reckon the captain, or the owner—hey?"
Bahama Bill spat disdainfully over the side into the dark water where the phosphorus shone in the ripples. He sat for an hour upon the rail, and the rest of the crew watched him, for they knew pretty well what was coming.
After supper the big mate went on deck. Heldron brought him a hook, a powerful instrument with a long tooth that would reach well into the seams of a vessel and pull out any calking that might be there. Sanders took out a fine steel bar, a regular jimmy, and joined them. The rest of the crew remained below and played checkers or cards, making no comment whatever.
The giant mate took the bar and hook and slid gently over the side, and the next instant they saw a thin line of fire, his wake, leading toward the yacht.
Aboard the yacht the incident of the afternoon was almost forgotten. Miss Harsha played the piano and Mrs. Dunn sang sea songs, while Dunn smoked and applauded alternately. The men were all below, and only Smart and his mate, a tall Yankee sailor from Maine, sat on deck, for the air was chill.
"Looks like we'll have a bit o' weather coming along soon," said the mate to Smart; "heavy bank makin' to th' north'ard."
The captain smoked in silence. He thought of the scene on deck that day, and he felt more than ever that Miss Harsha had reason to feel displeased at his attentions. He remembered the nights upon the liner when he had taken the girl for walks against the rules of the company, the usual ending of such affairs, and the cold-blooded manner in which she had sent him off. He was occupied intensely with his thoughts and keenly disgusted. In the dark water alongside a large fish seemed to make considerable disturbance and attracted his attention. He went to the rail and looked over, and instantly the creature, whatever it was, sank below the surface. Then he went back and smoked.