“It ain’t our place to give that blamed Seamew the whole ocean.”
“But if the Seamew won’t give way?” I repeated, vainly.
“What! Not give way! That’d be foolish,” growled old Tom. “A man can go bullying his way ashore, pushin’ folks inter the gutter and all that, if he’s big enough—like Bob yonder. But a captain can’t do that at sea. He’d only git what’s due him. He’ll have to give way.”
Yet no order was given from the Seamew’s quarter; nor did our skipper say a word. I could not believe that Captain Bowditch, even with the sea-law on his side, would risk his beautiful ship and the lives of her crew. Yet if the Seamew continued to run in on us much longer we would have to fall off, or collide with her.
Little Phillis was sitting calmly under her awning, busied with some pieces of sewing—for she was a housewifely little thing. It struck me that an awful death was threatening the innocent child, and I moved toward her. Thankful Polk was working his way along the deck in the same direction, too.
Captain Bowditch glanced at the child under the awning. If he had had any desperate intention of keeping on, whether or no, so as to pick up his tug ahead of the Seamew, I believe the presence of Phillis Duane restrained him. His hard old face changed.
The Seamew was holding on. She was going to force us. The old man jumped to the rail and motioned with his arm for the helmsman of the Seamew to keep off. But Mr. Alf Barney’s gaze rested only on the face of his brother at our wheel; and Captain Somes never gave an order.
Captain Bowditch turned and yelled:
“Keep off! keep off, I say! D’ye wanter wreck us?”
He started for the wheel. I do not know whether our Mr. Barney obeyed the order—or tried to obey it. The two great ships, their canvas bellied with the strong gale, seemed to sweep together as though they were magnetized!