The windows of the pilot-house were dropped into their casings, so
that all sounds might be admitted; the wet breeze beaded the skipper's
whiskers and dampened the mate's crisp hair. While the mate leaned
from a window, ear cocked for signals, the captain gave him more of the
critical inspection in which he had been indulging when occasion served.
Furthermore, Captain Wass went on pecking around the edges of a topic
which he had been attacking from time to time with clumsy attempt at
artful inquisition.
"As bad as it is on a freighter, I reckon you ain't sorry you're off
that yacht, son?"
"I'm not sorry, sir."
"From what you told me, the owner was around meddling all the time."
"I don't remember that I ever said so, sir."
"Oh, I thought you did," grunted Captain Wass, and he covered his
momentary check by sounding the whistle.
"Now that you are back in the steamboat business, of course you're a
steamboat man. Have the interests of your owners at heart," he resumed.
"Certainly, sir."
"It would be a lot of help to the regular steamboat men--the good old
stand-bys--if they could get some kind of a line on what them Wall
Street cusses are gunning through with Marston leading 'em--or, at
leastways, he's supposed to be leading. He hides away in the middle of
the web and lets the other spiders run and fetch. But it's Marston's
scheme, you can bet on that! What do you think?"
"I haven't thought anything about it, Captain Wass." "But how could
you help thinking, catching a word here and a word there, aboard that
yacht?"
"I never listened--I never heard anything."
"But he had them other spiders aboard--seen 'em myself through my
spy-glass when you passed us one day in June."
"I suppose they talked together aft, but my duty was forward, sir."
"It's too bad you didn't have a flea put into your ear about getting a
line on Marston's scheme, whatever it is. You could have helped the real
boys in this game!"
Mayo did not reply.
Captain Wass showed a resolve to quit pecking at the edges and make a
dab at the center of the subject. He pulled the whistle, released the
knob, and turned back to the window, setting his elbows on the casing.
"Son, you ain't in love with that pirate Marston, are you?"
"No, sir!" replied the young man, with bitterness that could not be
doubted.