Just at daylight the mornin’ after that we knocked at the door of Montague’s bedroom. When he woke up enough to open the door—it took some time, ’cause eatin’ and sleepin’ was his mainstay—we told him that we was plannin’ an early-mornin’ fishin’ trip, and if he wanted to go with the folks he must come down to the landin’ quick. He promised to hurry, and I stayed by the door to see that he didn’t git away. In about ten minutes we had him in the skiff rowin’ off to the Patience M.
“Where’s the rest of the crowd?” says he, when he stepped aboard.
“They’ll be along when we’re ready for ’em,” says I. “You go below there, will you, and stow away the coats and things.”
So he crawled into the cabin, and I helped Jonadab git up sail. We intended towin’ the skiff, so I made her fast astern. In ha’f a shake we was under way and headed out of the cove. When that British poet stuck his nose out of the companion we was abreast the p’int.
“Hi!” says he, scramblin’ into the cockpit. “What’s this mean?”
I was steerin’ and feelin’ toler’ble happy over the way things had worked out.
“Nice sailin’ breeze, ain’t it?” says I, smilin’.
“Where’s Mau—Miss Stumpton?” he says, wild like.
“She’s abed, I cal’late,” says I, “gittin’ her beauty sleep. Why don’t you turn in? Or are you pretty enough now?”
He looked fust at me and then at Jonadab, and his face turned a little yellower than usual.