"I am a writer," explained the other. "If I may be allowed on board I'll
take a few pictures and--"
"And make fun of me and my bo't by putting a piece in the paper to
tickle city dudes. Fend off!" he commanded, noticing that the tender was
drifting toward the schooner's side and that one of the crew had set a
boat-hook against the main chain-plate.
"Don't bother with the old crab," advised the owner, sourly.
But the other persisted, courteously, even humbly. "I am afraid you do
not understand me, captain. I would as soon make jest of my mother as of
this noble old relic."
"Go ahead! Call it names!"
"I am taking off my hat to it," he declared, whipping his cap from his
head. "My father's grandfather was in the war of eighteen twelve. I want
to honor this old patriot here with the best tribute my pen can pay.
If you will allow me to come on board I shall feel as though I were
stepping upon a sacred spot, and I can assure you that my friends, here,
have just as much respect for this craft as I have."
But this honest appeal did not soften Captain Candage. He did not
understand exactly from what source this general rancor of his flowed.
At the same time he was conscious of the chief reason why he did not
want to allow these visitors to rummage aboard the schooner. They would
meet his daughter, and he was afraid, and he was bitterly ashamed of
himself because he was afraid. Dimly he was aware that this everlasting
fear on her account constituted an insult to her. The finer impulse to
protect her privacy was not actuating him; he knew that, too. He was
merely foolishly afraid to trust her in the company of young men, and
the combination of his emotions produced the simplest product of mental
upheaval--unreasonable wrath.
"Fend off, I say," he commanded.
"Again I beg you, captain, with all respect, please may we come on
board?"
"You get away from here and tend to your own business, if you've got
any, or I'll heave a bunch of shingles at you!" roared the skipper.
"Father!" The voice expressed indignant reproof. "Father, I am ashamed
of you!"
The girl came to the rail, and the yachtsmen stared at her as if she
were Aphrodite risen from the sea instead of a mighty pretty girl
emerging from a dark companion-way. She had appeared so suddenly! She
was so manifestly incongruous in her surroundings.