All hands and the skipper tailed on to the sheets and got her canvas
spread. Then the skipper went below to the galley and prepared
supper. Tunis Latham could be no stickler for quarter-deck etiquette
on this voyage, that was sure.
But although the hands growled, and even Horry looked sour, Tunis
seemed strangely excited; indeed, he looked less woebegone than he
had for many a day. Something seemed to have given him a new zest in
life. He even spoke to the hands cheerfully, and they were a trio of
as surly dogs as ever quarreled with their food and a ship's
officers.
"I'll lay up at the cove until I get a decent crew this time, if I
lose all my existing contracts," Tunis said to Zebedee. "I'll find a
bunch of men who are not afraid of their shadows. Huh! Hoodooed, is
she? I'll show 'em that she can sail, even if Davy Jones himself
sits on her bowsprit!"
There was wind enough, in all good conscience. They discovered that
before they were out of the bay. It had shifted into the northeast,
and the _Seamew_ went roaring away on her course under reefed
canvas, heeling over to it like a racing yacht.
But the long tacks to seaward which the gale enforced made it
impossible for the schooner to beat back to Hollis where the first
of her freight must be discharged until after breakfast the next
morning.
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