"That was something strange—what?" said the mate.
"'Twas a bit out of the ordinary," said Smart, thinking of the strangeness of the scene, the dark night, the disturbed water, and the sudden appearance of a giant negro hauled on deck feet foremost by a bowline run over a whale-iron. "You better keep an anchor-watch to-night. Some of those fellows might steal half our brasswork before morning. I'm going to turn in. Good night."
II
In the brisk wind of the failing norther, the Sayonara hoisted her snowy canvas. The mainsail, taut as a board and white as the coral-beach, stood with luff cutting the wind and leach cracking gently while the boom-tackles held it like a hound in leash. The foresail was run up, and the word was passed aft that the ship was ready.
Mr. Dunn stood near the companion and chatted to Miss Harsha, while Mrs. Dunn entertained two marine officers from the yard with tales of the yacht. The reception aboard the day before had been a success, and these remaining guests were to spend a week cruising to the northward as far as Boca Grande.
Dunn was a keen fisherman, and would try for tarpon, the giant herring of the reef.
"I tell you, Miss Marion," said he, "it's a great sport. It takes skill to land one of those fellows, skill to hook him, skill to play him, and skill to kill 'em—are you a good fisherman?"
Miss Marion, pug-nosed, fat, and not entirely good-natured, thought a moment. Not upon fish, but concerning certain officers she had known lately.
"I—er—I really don't quite know, you know. I never tried it. It must be something grand. It appeals to me, the idea of fishing. It must be awfully exciting when you've hooked him." And her eyes roved just for a moment in the direction of Mrs. Dunn and her friends.
"She's hove short, sir," said Smart, coming near. "Shall we break her out and let her go? The tide is just right, and the wind a close reach up the Hawk's Channel."