The tug dropped them off the Tail of the Horseshoe; a smashing
sou'wester was serving them.
With all her washing set, the schooner went plowing out past the capes,
and Mayo was given his welcome watch below; he was so sleepy that his
head swam.
When he turned out he was ordered to take his trick at the wheel. The
schooner had made her offing and was headed for her northward run along
the coast, which showed as a thin thread of white along the flashing
blue of the sea.
Mayo took the course from the gaunt, sooty Jamaican who stepped away
from the wheel; he set his gaze on the compass and had plenty to occupy
his hands and his mind, for a big schooner which is logging off six
or eight knots in a following sea is somewhat of a proposition for a
steersman. Occasionally he was obliged to climb bodily upon the wheel in
order to hold the vessel up to her course.
Captain Downs was pacing steadily from rail to rail between the wheel
and the house. At each turn he glanced up for a squint at the sails. It
was the regular patrol of a schooner captain.
In spite of his absorption in his task, Mayo could not resist taking
an occasional swift peep at the passenger. The young man's demeanor had
become so peculiar that it attracted attention. He looked worried, ill
at ease, smoked his cigarettes nervously, flung over the rail one which
he had just lighted, and started for the captain, his mouth open. Then
he turned away, shielded a match under the hood of the companionway, and
touched off another cigarette. He was plainly wrestling with a problem
that distressed him very much.
At last he hurried below. He came up almost immediately. He had the air
of a man who had made up his mind to have a disagreeable matter over
with.
"Captain Downs," he blurted, stepping in front of Old Mull and halting
that astonished skipper, "will you please step down into the cabin with
me for a few moments? I've something to tell you."
"Well, tell it--tell it here!" barked the captain.
"It's very private, sir!"
"I don't know of any privater place than this quarterdeck, fifteen miles
offshore."
"But the--the man at the wheel!"
"Good Josephus! That ain't a man! That's a nigger sailor steering my
schooner. Tell your tale, Mr. Bradish. Tell it right here. That fellow
don't count any more 'n that rudder-head counts."
"If you could step down into the cabin, I--"