"Poor fellow," said Mr. Driver, as the marshal led away his protesting captive. "I expect it happened just as he says—an open mutiny, compelling him to shoot—but every Greek in his crew will go on the stand and swear that it was a case of cold-blooded murder. Fortunately, the judge is wise to Greek methods and the law deals gently with commanders."
"He looked mighty young to be a captain," said Captain Westfield.
"It's this way," Mr. Driver explained, "the law compels the Greeks to have an American captain for each schooner and diving boat, and they hire the youngest and, therefore, cheapest man that they can get. It's a dog's life, out alone for months with a gang that doesn't speak a word of English. As long as the captain is content to be a mere figurehead he can get along without serious trouble, but the minute he runs counter to their wishes there is a row. But time is flying, and I must get back to the store. If you will come back with me I'll introduce you to a man who knows more about sponging than another American in the country."
"Just a moment, lads," said the Captain, as they turned to go. "Which of those schooners do you like the best?"
The two chums unhesitatingly indicated a beautiful two-masted, snow-white schooner that seemed to rest as loftily on the water as a floating swan. The grace and beauty of exquisite lines marked her out from the many shapely schooners surrounding her. In large gilt letters on either side of her bow was her name "Beauty".
"She's my choice too," declared the Captain. "I wish we owned her. I ain't never seen a prettier model."