Will had promised his Sue that this trip, if well ended,
Should coil up his ropes and he'd anchor on shore.
When his pockets were lined, why his life should be mended,
The laws he had broken he'd never break more.
--Will Watch.
They needed food, lease-money for their hired equipment was due, and the
dependents at Maquoit must be looked after.
Pride and hope had inspired the crew at Razee to salvage the Conomo
intact. Material removed from her would immediately become junk to be
valued at junk prices, instead of being a valuable and active asset
on board. But there was no other resource in sight. No word came from
Captain Wass; and Mayo had put little confidence in that possibility,
anyway.
There was nothing else to do--they must sell off something on which they
could realize quickly.
In the estimation of many practical men this procedure would have been
a warrantable makeshift, its sole drawback being a sacrifice of values.
But to the captains on Razee it seemed like the beginning of complete
surrender; it was the first step toward the dismantling of the
steamship. It was making a junk-pile of her, and they confessed to
themselves that they would probably be obliged to keep on in the work of
destruction. In the past their bitterest toil had been spiced with the
hope of big achievement; the work they now set themselves to do was
melancholy drudgery.
They brought the Ethel and May alongside and loaded into her the
anchors, chains, spare cables, and several of the life-boats. Mayo took
charge of the expedition to the main.
The little schooner, sagging low with her burden, wallowed up the harbor
of Limeport just before sunset, one afternoon. Early June was abroad
on the seas and the pioneer yachting cruisers had been coaxed to the
eastward; Mayo saw several fine craft anchored inside the breakwater
and paid little attention to them. He paced the narrow confines of his
quarter-deck and felt the same kind of shame a ruined man feels when he
is on his way to the pawnshop for the first time. He had his head down;
he hated to look forward at the telltale cargo of the schooner.
"By ginger! here's an old friend of yours, this yacht!" called Mr.
Speed, who was at the wheel.
They were making a reach across the harbor to an anchorage well up
toward the wharves, and were passing under the stern of a big yacht.
Mayo looked up. It was the Olenia.
"But excuse me for calling it a friend, Captain Mayo," bawled the mate,
with open-water disregard of the possibilities of revelation in his
far-carrying voice.