“Curses on it!” Weeks exclaimed as he took in the situation and recognized the steamer, whose smoke they had beheld in the distance, before boarding the brig.
But Leroyd kept on after the fleeing Milly. He believed that she knew something about the missing gems, or had them in her possession, and he was determined to get them.
Milly ran to the bows of the brig, with Leroyd close behind her.
“Let that gal alone!” roared a voice from the approaching boat. “Give way, boys! I won’t leave a whole bone in that scoundrel’s body, once I get my paws on him.”
In an instant the small boat was under the brig’s rail, and Caleb Wetherbee himself was upon her deck with an agility quite surprising. Mr. Coffin and two of the boat’s crew were right behind him.
A moment later the panting girl, having eluded the clumsier sailor, was behind the shelter of Caleb’s towering form and those of his companions.
Weeks stopped Leroyd in his mad rush for the girl, and whispered a few swift sentences in his ear. Then he stepped forward.
“By what right do you board this brig, Mr. Wetherbee?” he asked. “This is a derelict. We have seized her and propose to tow her to port for salvage. I command you to leave her.”
“How long since you boarded her for that purpose?” Mr. Coffin demanded, for Caleb was fairly purple with rage and surprise.
“Since half an hour ago,” replied Weeks calmly.