"Hearty welcome aboard the Reuben and Esther," he called out when the
tender swung to the foot of the ladder. "What schooner is she, there?"
"Poor old Polly," stated the master, first up the ladder. In his haste
to greet the fishing-skipper he left his daughter to the care of Captain
Mayo.
"That's too bad--too bad!" clucked the fishing-skipper, full measure of
sympathy in his demeanor. "She was old, but she was able, sir!"
"And here's another poor Polly," stated Captain Candage. "I was fool
enough to take her out of a good home for a trip to sea."
The skipper ducked salute. "Make yourself to home, miss. Go below. House
is yours!"
Then the schooner lurched away on her shoreward tack, and the insolent
yacht marched off down across the shimmering waves.
Mayo shook hands with the solicitous fisherman in rather dreamy and
indifferent fashion. He realized that he was faint with hunger, but he
refused to eat. Fatigue and grief demanded their toll in more imperious
fashion than hunger. He lay down in the sun in the lee alley, put his
head on his crossed arms, and blessed sleep blotted out his bitter
thoughts.