"But I wonder what was the matter with the expert who predicted that,"
mused Mayo. "He doesn't know the old jaw teeth of Razee Reef as well as
I do."
When the Ethel and May set forth from Maquoit on her next trip to
Cashes Banks, Mayo suggested--and he was a bit shamefaced when he did
so--that they might as well go out of their way a little and see what
the junkers were doing at Razee.
Captain Candage eyed his associate with rather quizzical expression.
"Great minds travel, et cetry!" he chuckled. "I was just going to say
that same thing to you. On your mind a little, is it?"
"Yes, and only a little. Of course, there can't be anything in it for
us. Those junkers will stick to her till she ducks for deep water. But
I've been wondering why they think she's going to duck. I seined around
Razee for a while, and the old chap has teeth like a hyena--regular
fangs."
"Maybe they took Art Simpson's say-so," remarked the old man, wrinkling
his nose. "Art would be very encouraging about the prospects of saving
her--that is to say, he would be so in case losing that steamer has
turned his brain."
"Guess there wasn't very much interest by the underwriters," suggested
Mayo. "They weren't stuck very hard, so I've found out. She was mostly
owned in sixty-fourths, and with marine risks up to where they are,
small owners don't insure. It's a wicked thing all through, Candage!
That great, new steamer piled up there by somebody's devilishness! I
believe as you do about the affair! I've been to sea so long that a boat
means something to me besides iron and wood. There's something about
'em--something--"
"Almost human," put in the old man. "I sorrowed over the Polly, but
I didn't feel as bad as if she'd been new. It was sort of like when old
folks die of natural causes--you know they have lived about as long
as they can. It's sorrowful to have 'em go, but you have to feel
reconciled. But I know just how it is with you in the case of that
steamer, for I'm a sailor like you. It's just like getting a fine boy
through college, seeing him start out full of life, and courage, and
hopes, and prospects, and then seeing him drop dead at your feet."
There was a quaver in the old man's tones. But Mayo, who knew the souls
of mariners, understood. Under their hard shells there is imagination
that has been nurtured in long, long thoughts. In the calms under
starlit skies, in the black darkness when tossing surges swing beneath
the keel, in the glimmering vistas of sun-lighted seas, sailors ponder
while their more stolid brothers on land allow their souls to doze.