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Tunis stared from the old mare to the old mariner, especially at the c.o.c.ked revolver in the captain's hand. He pointed at the tightly gripped weapon.
"What's that for, Cap'n Ira?" he asked.
"I--I--well, I swan!" stammered Cap'n Ira, now looking, himself, at the old seven-chambered revolver as though he had never seen it before. "I cal'late it does look sort o' funny to you, Tunis, to see me come sailing down this way, armed like a pirate."
"I wouldn't call it exactly funny. But it is surprising," admitted Tunis. "And Queenie looks as surprised as anybody."
"Yes, she does, for a fact," agreed Cap'n Ira, squinting across the heap of loose sand at the gray mare. "I kind o' wonder what she's thinking about."
"I'm wondering hard enough myself," put in Tunis pointedly.
"I swan!" murmured Cap'n Ira reflectively.
He carefully lowered the hammer of the pistol, his cane stuck upright in the sand before him. Then he put the weapon back in the inside pocket of his coat. He tapped the k.n.o.b of his cane for a pinch of snuff before he said another word. His mighty "A-choon!"
startled the Queen of Sheba almost as it startled Prudence.
"Avast!" exclaimed Cap'n Ira. "Did you ever see such a scary old lubber, Tunis?"
"But what's it all about?" again demanded the younger man, seizing the rope halter and aiding the mare to flounder out upon the firmer sand below high-water mark. "What are you doing up so early? And what were you going to do with Queenie?"
"I swan!" groaned Cap'n Ira again. "I don't wonder that you ask me that. It don't really seem reasonable that a sane man would get in such a jam, does it? Me and the Queen of Sheby sailin' down that sand pile. Tunis! We'll never be able to get up it in this world."
"No. You must come along to our road, and get up that way," his young friend told him. "It is longer, but easier. But tell me how you came down that gully, you and Queenie?"
"I'm sort of ashamed to tell you, Tunis, and that's a fact," the old captain said, wagging his head. "And don't you ever tell Prudence."
"I'll not say a word to Aunt Prue," promised the captain of the _Seamew_.
"Yet," grumbled the old man, "that dratted Queen of Sheby is too much for Prudence. You see yourself only yesterday how she is like to come to her death because of the mare."
"I know that you should have somebody living with you, Cap'n Ira,"
urged Tunis. "But what does _this_ mean?"
"I--I can't scurcely tell you, Tunis. I swan! I was goin' to murder the old critter."
"What do you mean?" gasped Tunis in apparent horror. "Not Aunt Prue?"
"What's the matter with you?" snapped Cap'n Ira. "I mean that old mare. I was going to murder her in cold blood, only the sand slide wrecked my plans."
"If you had killed her, Aunt Prue would have had hard work to forgive you. Come on now. I'll lead Queenie up to our barn. Let her stay there for a spell. I tell you, Cap'n Ira, you and Aunt Prue must have somebody to live with you."
"Who?"
"Get a girl from the port."
"Huh! One o' them Portygees? They're as dirty and useless in the kitchen as their men folks are aboard ship."
"Oh, they are not all like that!" objected the captain of the _Seamew_. "I've got a good crew of 'em aboard my schooner."
"You think so. Wait till you get in a jam. And the men ain't so bad as the gals. All hussies."
"I don't know, then, what you'll do."
"I do," interrupted the old man, hobbling along the hard sand beside Tunis and the horse. "It's just like I told Prudence yesterday. I know just what we've got to do whether you or Prue or anybody else knows," and he was very emphatic.
"Let's hear your plan, Cap'n," said Tunis.
"It's like this," went on Cap'n Ira. "Prudence ain't got but one living relative, a grandniece, that's kin to her. That Ida May Bostwick we must have come and live with us, and that's all there is about it."
Tunis stared. He said:
"Never heard of her. She doesn't live anywhere around here, does she?"
"No, no! Lives to Boston."
"Boston!"
Why was it Tunis Latham felt that his heart skipped a beat? Memory of that pale, violet-eyed girl who worked in the restaurant on Scollay Square flashed across his mind like a shooting star. Indeed, he was so confused that he heard only a little at first of Cap'n Ira's rambling explanation. Then he caught:
"And if you will go to that address--Prue's got the street and number--and see Ida May Bostwick and tell her about us, you'd be doing us a kindness, Tunis."
"Me?" exclaimed the startled captain of the _Seamew_.
"Yes, you. The gal won't bite you. You're going to Boston next week, you say. Will you do it?"
"Sure I will, Cap'n Ira," said the young man heartily. "It's a good move, and I'll say all I can to get the girl to come down here."
"That's the boy! You're going on an errand of mercy; that's as sure as sure. Prue and me need that gal. And maybe she needs us. I don't know what sort of a place she works at, but no city job for a gal can be the equal of living down here on the Cape, with her own folks, as you might say. Yes, Tunis, you'll be doing an errand of mercy mebbe both ways."
CHAPTER V
LOOKING FOR IDA MAY
The _Seamew_ was put in commission in a very few days. Tunis Latham had many friends in and about Big Wreck Cove, and he had little difficulty in picking up a cargo, which was loaded right at the port.
As for the schooner's crew, Tunis could have filled every billet four times over had he so desired. But he had already picked his crew with some care. Mason Chapin was mate, a perfectly capable navigator who might have used his ticket to get a berth on a much larger craft than the _Seamew_. But he had an invalid wife and wished only to leave home on brief voyages. Johnny Lark was shipped as cook, with a Portygee boy, Tony, to help him.
Forward, Horace Newbegin served as boatswain and Orion Latham was a sort of supercargo and general handy man. He was Tunis' cousin, several times removed. There were four Portygees to make up the company, a full crew for a sailing vessel of the tonnage of the _Seamew_. Yet every man was needed in handling her lofty canvas and in loading and unloading freight.
With a well-stowed cargo below deck the schooner sailed even better than she had in ballast. She slipped out of the cove through the rather tortuous channel like an eel through the meshes of a broken trap. In the dawn, and with a fresh outside breeze just ruffling the sea into whitecaps, they broke out her upper sails and caught the very last breath of the gale the canvas would draw.
Cap'n Ira, and even Prudence, had got up before daybreak to see the schooner pa.s.s. They watched her, turn and turn about at the spygla.s.s, till she was blotted out by the distant fog bank.
"I swan," said the old man, "when she heaves into view again I hope she'll have Ida May Bostwick aboard! That is what _I_ hope."