"Your tongue's hung in the middle and wags both ends, Horry,"
growled the young skipper. "You trying to scare Miss Bostwick out of
her wits? What you poor, weak-minded, misguided fellows heard that
time in the snow squall was a flock of black gulls coming down
with the wind. And somebody aboard of the _Marlin B._ was a
ventriloquist. Your whole crew weren't ignorant of the accident that
happened on her first trip. Somebody had it in for Sutro Brothers,
and made much of little, same as usual."
"Oh, they _did_?" muttered Horry.
"Anyway," said Captain Latham, "that's neither here nor there. We
aren't sailing the _Marlin B._, for she's in Chilean waters, owned
by a South American millionaire. You can stow that kind of talk,
Horry--anyway, while Miss Bostwick is aboard."
They were until late in the evening beating into Paulmouth Harbor,
but the heavens were starlit and the air as soft as spring. The
tolling of the bell buoy over Bitter Reef was mellow and soothing;
they heard it for a long time before the _Seamew_ made the short leg
of the final tack and went rushing in past the danger mark under
the urge of a sudden puff of the fitful breeze.
"The old bell is welcoming us, Ida May," Captain Latham said to the
girl who reclined in a canvas chair which the cook had raked out of
the lazaret for her use.
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