They had not had a regular cook for two trips now.
But a new complication had arisen. Mason Chapin stood at the rail
waiting his return, and a taxicab had been summoned. The mate
carried a bag.
"A telegram from Doctor Norris. My wife's worse, Mr. Latham. I've
got to go back just as fast as steam will get me there," was his
greeting to the skipper of the _Seamew_.
This was according to the agreement Mason Chapin had made in the
beginning. His wife was sorely ill, and surely Tunis would not stand
between a man and his sick wife!
But it left a very serious situation upon the schooner when the mate
drove away in the taxicab. Six men, forward and aft, to handle a
suit of sails which equaled those of any seagoing racing yacht. If
it had not been for the freight--some of which was perishable--the
master of the _Seamew_ would have laid up until he could have got
together a more numerous crew at least.
But instead of going to the seamen's employment offices, Tunis had
to turn to himself, while the heavier pieces of freight were lowered
down the hatchway of the schooner. It was near evening when the
hatch was battened down and a small tug snaked them out of the dock
and from among the greater shipping, and gave them a whistled
blessing in midstream.
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