was no smoke rising from the galley chimney.
"What's the matter with cooky?" demanded Tunis briskly.
"The dratted Portygee's gone off to Paulmouth. He left word that he
couldn't sail with us this trip."
"Then he'll never sail on the _Seamew_ again," declared the skipper
"And _that_ won't bother him none," said the boatswain gloomily.
"I'll get breakfast for all hands," said Tunis. "I'm not above that.
Where are the hands?"
"As far as I know, Cap'n Tunis, they are where Johnny Lark is.
Haven't shown up, and don't mean to," said Horry doggedly.
Tunis Latham cursed his delinquent crew soundly. The rage which
flamed into his eyes, added to the pallor of his face, made an ugly
mask indeed. It was not often that he gave way to such an outburst,
but Horry had seen the same deadly anger displayed on occasion by
Captain Randall Latham.
"Where's Mr. Chapin?"
"He was here before you, Cap'n Tunis. He's gone up to town to see if
he can drum up some hands."
"He says he'll be here by the time you get ready to wheel the stuff
aboard." And the old man pointed with his pipe-stem toward the open
door of the shed.
"Ha!" ejaculated Tunis. "Feared I'd set him to work, eh? Well,
they're all dogs together--the whole litter of 'em.